It was a Saturday morning. Since Thursday, when Carson and his true identity had been revealed, she had been jittery and on edge. She only just managed to turn in her paperwork on time, causing Penelope to look her over carefully. Harry had noticed the change as well. He had asked her several times if she was alright, and Hermione always replied saying that she had a terrible cold and headache. When she would return from work, she would check Malfoy's arm for any signs of self afflicted harm. The gash on his torso had healed well, and was now only faintly pink. Hermione made sure to check his arm every morning and every evening.

Today, finally, she was free from people giving her curious glances and asking if she was alright.

Hermione dragged herself out of bed. She pulled the curtain aside to get a view of the outside, and was hit in the face with a gust of crisp, autumn smelling wind, and she inhaled deeply. The leaves were all yellow and brown and red now, and the ground below was scattered with them. She spotted a store downstairs in front of which a man was stringing up a garland of fake bats. A little confused at his choice of decoration, Hermione let her eyes travel down the rest of the street that she could see. There were a few large pumpkins placed in front of the local library which Hermione and Carson - no, Malfoy - frequented.

Pumpkins. Autumn.

Halloween.

There were nearly three weeks left until Halloween. But everyone outside was enthusiastically putting up decorations and getting into spirit. Hermione had loved going trick or treating until the age of six. Her parents would make sure to dress her up well, and she would skip from house to house shouting "trick or treat!" with the other kids. In the year of her seventh birthday, there had been an incident in her primary school. Miles, the class bully, had chosen to torment her that day. Hermione was angered beyond explanation, and soon Miles was covered from head to toe in large, painful blisters. Hermione, thoroughly surprised, had begun crying, and was sent home. Since then, none of the other children came near her for fear of ending up the same way as Miles. So, naturally, she had been alone until Hogwarts. She took to books and learning. She read and observed things. Trick or treating hardly seemed exciting anymore.

Hermione sighed at the memory, and wondered whether Miles had been scarred for life by that event. She hoped he had. Atleast he wouldn't be a bully anymore.

"Granger?"

Hermione huffed. Could she not have one peaceful moment to herself and simply do what she wanted?

"Granger, are you even listening?"

"No, go away."

"Fine, I'll just let the kitchen burn down then?"

Hermione was across the room in two strides. She pulled the door open.

"Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly nice day," Hermione said through gritted teeth as she stalked her way to the kitchen. On arriving, she found everything in a perfect state. Not a single particle of dust was out of place. She placed her hands on her hips and turned to face him, livid, "Where is the supposed flaming object?"

"It was just a way to get you to leave your room," Malfoy smirked.

"What for?" Hermione gasped dramatically, "Don't tell me you're bored without me?"

"Shut it, Granger," Malfoy gave her a half-hearted glare.

"Your arm," Hermione walked to him, and stood in front of him with a foot of space seperating them. She reached out and took hold of his left arm, pushing his sleeve up.

The Dark Mark was dull now, and faded like an old photograph. It was scarred right down the middle, and smaller cuts peppered all around it. She didn't know since when he'd been hurting himself, he wouldn't tell her. His skin was pale, and surprisingly warm. Hermione traced her wand along the most recent cuts, making the skin look less pink.

"Well, what was your reason for getting me out here?" Hermione let go of his arm and shook her head disbelievingly, turning to open the kitchen window so as to let in some fresh air. On second thoughts, she pulled the mesh curtain across it as a precaution.

"It's nearly noon," Malfoy said, crossing his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow at her.

Hermione's jaw dropped open. She had overslept. She never overslept. No, no, this simply couldn't be right.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, blinking and looking around for some hint that he was lying.

"Of course I am," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "I gave you a dose of sleeping potion, I didn't know it would be this-"

"You gave me a dose of sleeping potion?" Hermione shrieked, "Without my permission?"

"Yes," Malfoy said coolly, "I noticed you haven't been sleeping well since Thursday, so I thought-"

"How did you notice I haven't been sleeping well?" Hermione couldn't believe him. Had he been snooping on her? Why, this little, ferret faced, pathetic-

"You forgot to cast the silencing charm on your room before you went to sleep."

Hermione's train of thoughts came to an abrupt stop. She blinked at him. She always cast silencing charms on her room to prevent any sounds of her crying or pacing from being heard outside. But, how did he know this?

"I heard you pacing," Malfoy said without looking at her, "and crying."

Why did he suddenly care about her? She didn't need anyone to care about her, she could take care of herself perfectly fine. Malfoy at that. Malfoy cared for her.

"Don't mistake this as some kind of affection," Malfoy said, suddenly bitter. His eyes were a shade darker, "all your noise prevented me from getting a decent night's sleep."

Of course.

"I," Hermione knew she had to say something. Scold him, thank him, insult him. Anything. But she couldn't seem to find anything to say. Somehow she felt like she was out of words.

Malfoy sat down at the table quietly, watching as Hermione ate some leftover toast with butter and sugar. The food tasted like tar in her mouth, and swallowing felt like the hardest work in the world. When she had made her way through the two slices of toast without throwing up, she stood and began washing her plate.

"Granger."

Hermione turned around wearily, "What now?"

"We're out of groceries," he said simply, "I was going to go get them, but I wanted to see your shocked expression when you realised you slept till noon, so I stayed behind."

"I'll be here in ten minutes," Hermione placed her plate on the drying rack and walked to her room, loosening her pathetic excuse of a ponytail on the way. What was she supposed to wear to the grocery store? He would probably be all dressed up, shirt and all, looking as though he was going on a first date. Hermione grumbled to herself and changed into some presentable jeans and pulled on a sweater over her night shirt. Her concealment charms had worn off, so she recast them to look slightly more towards a human than a bag of bones.

"Malfoy, are you done yet?" Hermione tugged her overcoat on with some effort, then waited by the door.

"Be careful of what you call me outside," Malfoy strode out of his room, wearing all black, platinum blond replaced by caramel, pale skin replaced by dark skin "it's Carson now."

Hermione nodded curtly. She waited for him to walk out the door before locking it and casting a ward. By the time she was done, Malfoy had already started climbing down the stairs. She half walked, half jogged to catch up with him.

It was chilly outside. So much so that Malfoy shivered. Hermione pulled her coat a little tighter around herself to wry out some warmth, to no avail of course.

"You should have worn a coat," Hermione said to Malfoy, who only had on a black shirt and trousers. He glared at her for the late reminder, then began rubbing his hands together.

Hermione slipped her wand from her sleeve into her hand and discreetly pointed it at him. She watched, amused, as his expression became one of confusion, then realisation.

"Thanks," he muttered without looking at her. He seemed disturbed about something, Hermione noticed, and was constantly fidgeting with his gloves.

"Race you back home," Hermione said when they had reached the front of the store, and darted in without warning.

"Granger, that's not fair!"

Ignoring his cry of indignation, Hermione scooted through the aisles. She'd beat him this time, that little cheating bastard. She mentally ticked off the things in her head like before, then rushed to the counter.

"Oh, it's you again!" the same woman who had billed for Hermione last time said brightly, "I'll hurry up. What happened last time, did you win?"

"No, he cheated," Hermione said with a small laugh as the lady handed the bag to her, "thank you so much!"

She ran out of the store, catching a glimpse of a head of curly brown hair behind her.

"Granger!"

Hermione glanced back. He was running after her with his bag in hand, the contents threatening to spill out onto the pavement, and his hair was jumping around wildly. There was indignation and surprise on his face, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Her surroundings were a blur of red, orange, brown and yellow as she ran full tilt. Hermione entered their apartment building and ran past a very surprised Mrs. Settington. She could hear Malfoy cursing and yelling behind her. She made it to their door and stepped inside, and just before she could close it, Malfoy barreled through it and back kicked the door closed.

"That was so bloody unfair!" He said through heaving breaths. His skin was flushed from the run, and his pupils were dilated due to the adrenaline rush.

"But," Hermione said between her panting, "you enjoyed it. Especially because I won."

They both stood for a while, their heavy breathing the only sound to be heard as they tried to catch their breath. Hermione leant against the wall and closed her eyes, working on slowing the pace of her heartbeat. Malfoy walked to the kitchen table and sat down with a huff, summoning a glass of water to himself.

"Revelio," Hermione pointed her wand at him. She watched as his features changed from Carson's to his own.

"No no, turn me back into the other guy," Malfoy shook his head, "it's better that way."

"Why so?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Because when I'm the other guy," he shrugged indifferently, "I feel... different. A good different. I don't feel like the boy who was forced to be a Death Eater."

"You're not just that," Hermione said in a low voice. She took her scarf off and hung it on the hook by the door.

"I beg to differ," Malfoy said with a scoff.

"I don't define you as just that," it was Hermione's turn to shrug now, "to me, you're a ferretface bully, who had no choice, and has a soft spot for Quidditch."

"And I am also the boy who nearly killed Dumbledore," Malfoy insisted, "I'm the one who stood silent and watched you writhing on the floor of my own house. I'm the one that constantly insulted you and made you berate yourself. I am also the one because of who my mother is now alone and worried."

"You should speak to her," Hermione chose to ignore the rest.

"I can't," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, "if she knows where I am, she will be hurt so that whoever it is can reach me."

Hermione pursed her lips tightly. What he was saying was true, of course. If Narcissa knew about his whereabouts, she may end up getting hurt. Hermione didn't want that, and she knew for a fact that Malfoy didn't either.
"I've got enough on my mind as it is," Malfoy continued, "what with the other letters-"

"What other letters?" Hermione's interest in the conversation spiked.
Malfoy sealed his lips.

"Malfoy, what are you talking about?" Hermione walked over to him and waited for an answer.

"Forget I ever said anything," he muttered and stood. Hermione pushed him back down onto his seat by the shoulder.

"If you've been getting letters from the impersonator," Hermione said, "then we can start working on who it is, you dunderhead."

"Dunderhead?" Malfoy said, obviously triggered by the insult, "Bookworm."
"Proud of it," Hermione rolled her eyes, "go on, get the letters, I can try and find out who sent them-"

"I've already tried," he said.

"Why can't you just get them here so that I can examine them as well?" Hermione said frustratedly.

"Fine," he stood and walked to his room. Hermione heard him open and close a drawer, and then he was back in the kitchen holding a small stack of parchment. He placed them on the table.

"Green ink," Hermione said distastefully, "who writes with green ink?"
"This fellow, whoever he or she is," Malfoy drawled, "terrible choice, actually."
"That too it's a bright green," Hermione pulled one of the letters to herself.

  You think we don't know where you are? You filthy traitor scum, helped Potter defeat the Dark Lord. Betrayed your father and let him end up in Azkaban, did you? You are a disgrace to all of wizardkind, and nothing more.

I know where you are, scumbag, and I will kill you whenever I please. Wherever I please. And I will destroy everything and everyone you deem lovable.

You are not deserving of the Mark, boy. You do not even deserve to breathe anymore.

  Live while you can.

Hermione shuddered. She could actually hear the menace in the words.

"I received this one when I was somewhere in Norway," Malfoy explained.

"Revelio," Hermione tapped the parchment with the tip of her wand.

Nothing happened.

"The handwriting isn't false," Malfoy said, "I've tried it and tested it."

"That's a silly thing for someone to do," Hermione was confused, "why would they write something in their own handwriting?"

"Beats me," Malfoy shrugged.

"What about any traces of Dark Magic?" Hermione tapped it with her wand again. Again, nothing happened.

"Maybe it is a faked handwriting, but it's warded," Malfoy mused, "why couldn't I think of it before?"

"Because my presence stimulates your intelligence," Hermione said without looking up. Before Malfoy could retaliate, she pointed her wand at the parchment, "finite incantatem."

She groaned frustratedly when the parchment still remained exactly like before.

Malfoy got out his stolen wand, "Aparecium."

They spent their time in casting several revealing spells on the parchment to no result. It was so like the time she had spent with Harry, trying to destroy the Horcrux. The brainstorming, quick spells and jinxes. It was familiar territory for Hermione.
They both sat slumped in their chairs a few hours later, exhausted mentally and physically. They had tried every revealing charm and jinx, every identifying spell, even a few anti-cheating spells to decrypt the handwriting.

"I'll check another one," Hermione reached forward to take the next letter.

"No!" Malfoy yelled and grabbed a hold of her wrist, "This one and a few others are jinxed with the flagrante curse. It'll bu-"

"Burn me if I touch it, I know," Hermione muttered, "nothing's working."

He hastily dropped her wrist. She covered her face in her hands and sighed. She'd get it. She always solved things, no matter how hard.

The sun outside had begun to go down, the sky was slowly turning from blue to purple. They had skipped lunch.

"None of them respond to revelio," Malfoy said, sounding equally exasperated.

"Yea, they don't," Hermione removed her hands from over her face, "but maybe they respond to tr-"

"Tracking charms," his face lit up with the new thought, "I thought about that first."

"We thought about it at the same time," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Avenseguim."

The letter hovered off the table, fluttering in the wind that filtered through the mesh curtain. The letter hovered steadily for a few moments before it made its way to the window. Just before it could exit the kitchen, Malfoy reached out and caught it, muttering the counter jinx.

"It works," Hermione said, feeling an elation at having worked it out.

"All thanks to me," Malfoy smirked playfully.

"All thanks to us," Hermione pointed her wand in between his eyes, "however, we can't possibly run around London following a letter. It would give rise to speculations and is mildly problematic."

"Mildly problematic?" Malfoy shook his head disbelievingly, "It's the most problematic."

Their mood dampened considerably at the new development. They had figured out a way to find their person, but they didn't know how exactly to execute the method. But, progress is progress, no matter how small. Hermione was determined to stay in a good state of mind. Positivity helps in thinking better.

"Crinus muto."

Malfoy swore and tried to swerve away, but too late. His hair turned a violent shade of green.
"You look like a radish," Hermione pressed her hands over her mouth to try and stifle her building urge to laugh.

"Granger, you bimbo!" he ran around the apartment, desperately looking for some surface to act as a mirror for him, "you've ruined my hair!"

He stopped in front of the television and knelt before it. His expression changed to one of absolute horror.

"It's green," he said disbelievingly, "you've turned my beautiful hair green."

"It was hardly beautiful," Hermione scoffed.

"Better than your bird's nest," Malfoy said, "turn it back to how it was before!"

"Do it yourself," Hermione said, "but you can't, because only the caster can counter it. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Turn it back Granger!" Malfoy stood and stalked back to the kitchen.

"Or what?" Hermione said carelessly.

"Rictumsempra."

Hermione was overcome by fits of giggles as she felt the sensation of being tickled spread across her skin.

"Okay, okay," she said between her giggles, "finite incantatem."

His green hair turned back into its natural platinum blond. Malfoy lifted the tickle jinx.

"I hate you," Hermione didn't mean it, of course. She enjoyed having someone to talk to who's speed of thought process was nearly the same as hers.

"I hate you too, Granger," Malfoy said, grinning widely.

Hermione got up to get herself a glass of water, but she froze when she heard flames roar to life in the fireplace. She swivelled around, and stumbled when she caught sight of the emerald flames.

"Someone's coming," she whispered frantically, "quickly, quickly, take these," she shoved the letters into Malfoy's hands, "into your room, go."