Chimes at Midnight

Chapter 11 - - Chimes at Midnight

- - -

"How was your week?" Elizabeth Granger asked her daughter as the two of them stood in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Hermione hands were in water up to her elbows, scrubbing a pot. "Lovely," she said, much the way she usually said it. Then images from the week, all staring Draco, flashed through her mind and she smiled. "Really good."

"Yeah?" said Elizabeth. "I want to hear about your date last week with ... what was his name again? Unusual ... Draco! That's it."

Hermione continued scrubbing. "I'll just end up telling the story twice, so let's wait until Dad is here. Where is he, anyway?"

"He had to run out for a few things."

"On a Saturday morning?" Hermione asked.

"When you need something, you need it," her mother replied. "He'll be back soon."

Hermione finished the pot and dried it, then handed it to her mother.

"Thank you, dear." Elizabeth took it and put it away. "Tell me what's going on with school, then."

"I gave out the first big assignment yesterday. Oh, I haven't told you this yet." Hermione began slicing a melon. "I decided to put my Gryffindor and Slytherin in the same group."

"The boy and girl you suspect like each other?" Elizabeth asked.

"Right. At least, I suspect the boy likes the girl. After seeing how well Draco and I got on, I decided it couldn't hurt to put them in closer proximity. If nothing happens, that's fine, too."

Elizabeth stirred a pan filled with onions and peppers. "How did they take it?"

Hermione shrugged. "Fine. I haven't had any complaints so far. But it's only been a week."

The front door opened then, and Thomas Granger entered with a bag in one hand and a bottle of champagne and a loaf of fresh bread in the other. He set the bag by the stairs and went into the kitchen.

"Hello, ladies," he said, kissing Hermione on the forehead and his wife on the lips. He handed the bread to Hermione and put the bottle on the table. "The food smells great. Let me run my purchases upstairs and I'll be right back."

Thomas returned after a few minutes, as Hermione was setting the table.

Elizabeth removed the orange juice from the refrigerator and set it on the table beside a bottle of champagne. She prepared a mimosa for herself and, as she did each week, asked if either Hermione or Thomas would like one. As usual, Thomas declined; however, Hermione accepted, to the amusement of both her parents.

"We're going to hear about her date," Elizabeth remarked while preparing Hermione's drink.

Hermione rolled her eyes, nervous about what she would say. Certainly, there would be no need to lie. All three dates that week had been incredible, and she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. Talking about them, however, might make it more difficult to remember they were for show, might cement them in her mind as the real thing. She didn't want to get too caught up in the typical new-love euphoria, but as she was supposed to pretend their relationship was genuine, she had to discuss it.

The trouble was, she found it a little too easy to become swept up in thinking and talking about Draco...and thinking too much often got her in trouble. When Draco had left her the night before to meet his guest, she'd looked around his room and realized she knew nothing about him beyond what he'd carefully revealed. When the thought had occurred to her that he was accustomed to female companionship, she'd suddenly wanted to leave immediately. The room seemed too small, too warm, and even though he'd only been gone a few minutes, it had been far too long.

"Excellent," said Thomas cheerfully.

Elizabeth set the bowl of fruit on the table and sat down beside her husband. "Go on, then," she pressed, giving her daughter an expectant look.

Hermione chuckled. "Have you been waiting so patiently all week for my report?"

Her parents exchanged a look and then Thomas spoke. "There was something about the way you spoke about it last week that has had us curious."

"Oh." Hermione took a sip from her drink. Normally she stuck with plain juice, but this morning she wanted a little extra something to help her nerves. "Well, I'm sure it was nothing."

"How did the date go?" Elizabeth asked.

Her voice betrayed only mild interest, but Hermione knew her mother better; she was quite anxious to hear the details. Hermione sighed. "It went really well."

"Yeah?" Her mother smiled.

"Yeah. We had a lovely time at tea, and then he went with me while I ran a few errands." Hermione took another sip.

"That's wonderful to hear, my dear," Elizabeth said.

"Do you have plans to see him again?" her father asked.

"Well," Hermione said slowly. "Actually, I saw him for lunch on Wednesday and last night for dinner." Her parents' eyes widened simultaneously. "And yes, I do plan to see him again."

Thomas cleared his throat. "It would be safe to say you like him, then."

Here it was, the part that was too easy, the lie she didn't have to tell. "Yes, I do like him." The words were so simple, but their implication complex. That she liked him at all was a problem, but after last night, she feared she could easily fall in love with him if she let herself. Him! Of all people!

At least she didn't have possession of her whole heart to unwittingly devote to the matter.

"Tell us about him, Hermione," her mother pressed. "What's he like? What does he do?"

More of the truth. "He's ... very charming," she began, still hesitant. She needed to think negatively about him to counteract the positive things she said. Yes, he was charming, but it had almost been too perfect. No man could always react so well to everything she said or did.

"Well, I'm sold," her father said, smiling.

"Now, Thomas," Elizabeth scolded lightly. "Let Hermione tell us the way she wants to."

"He's funny too; he makes me laugh," Hermione continued. She searched her mind for something bad about this trait, but couldn't find one. "He's very intelligent. Surprisingly so. He doesn't flaunt it, but it's obvious from the way he talks." Nope, nothing wrong with that, either.

"What does he do?" Thomas asked.

"That's such a father question," Hermione teased. "It's another way of asking, 'Can this bloke take care of you? Is he good enough for my daughter?'"

He grinned. "I see nothing wrong with such questions. What's the answer?"

The latter made her nervous; she didn't have an answer to it. She hoped her answer to the first would sufficiently distract them.

"Draco is definitely able to take care of me," she said, finishing her mimosa. Her glass hadn't rested on the table for five seconds before her mother picked it up and prepared her a fresh drink. Hermione continued. "To make the story simple, he comes from a wealthy family, and he is currently running his family's business."

"What is the family business?" Thomas asked with a frown. "Nothing like 'Sanitation Engineer,' right?"

Hermione laughed nervously. The image of Draco collecting rubbish bins was funny enough, but it was clear her father had been watching too many mob movies lately. "No, Dad, he's not in the mafia." Still, with Draco's family, it wasn't that bad a guess.

"Good to know." He visibly relaxed and looked at her, still waiting for an answer.

"Honestly ... I don't know what the family business is." At her father's disapproving expression, she added, "But I do know it involves investment. His company is investing in Ron's brother's shop. I'm sure I've mentioned it before. They're expanding into Europe, and Malfoy, Inc. will be a part of it."

"That certainly sounds better," Thomas said.

"The company is huge, from what I gather. I also know Draco has a few research firms under his control. Two are small, from what he said, but one is a respectable size."

"You like research, don't you, dear?" Elizabeth asked.

Hermione was happy at the direction of the conversation. "Yes, very much."

"Is he attractive?" her mother asked.

"Mum!" Hermione blushed and took a large gulp from her drink.

Elizabeth laughed. "It's a very important question, Hermione. There has to be a connection between you that goes beyond your heart and mind."

Again, this would be no lie. "Yes, Mum, I find him attractive," she mumbled. "Very much."

"Well. Since you'll be seeing him again, I think you should bring him for breakfast sometime," said Thomas. "Soon."

"Dad! It's only been a week!" Hermione cried, her chest clenching at the thought.

"Fine, then. Give it a few more, and then we'd like to meet him."

"It's only fair," Elizabeth added. "We like to meet all the men you date seriously. It's important to us that we establish a good relationship with the man our daughter is dating, for all dates have the potential to lead to more."

Hermione smiled weakly. But this is different! she wanted to shout. It's not real! "Of course," she said instead.

ooo

Usually, Hermione looked forward to big Sunday meals at the Burrow. It was such a contrast to her quiet Saturday breakfasts with her parents. There was always someone unexpected at the meal...friends, co-workers, family of the Weasleys... not enough seating, and mounds of food. Someone would inevitably get hurt; the children would fight. Hermione always had a great time, but a part of her was secretly thankful that when she went home, none of the Weasleys went with her. Being part of such a large family could be exhausting at times.

Hermione knocked on the door of the Burrow, her arms full of baked goods. It was her assigned role to bring bread for the meal, and with the guest list flexible, she always tried to bring more than enough.

"Hey, Hermione!" said Harry, opening the door. "Come on in." He looked past her, a puzzled frown crossing his face.

"There you are, Hermione, dear," said Molly, sweeping into the room and taking the load out of her arms. "I'll set these to slicing on the table in the dining room."

"Great," she said with a warm smile.

"Where's...?" Harry began, only to be interrupted by Ron's loud arrival in the room.

"Oi! Hermione's here!" he called and wrapped his long arms around her and squeezed her, lifting her off the floor.

"Nice to see you too, Ron. It's only been a week, you realize."

He set her down, his huge grin lopsided. "I know. I guess I'm happy to see you. You look the same ... no outward signs that you're dating that rodent."

"Ron!" she cried. "You're to be nice, remember?"

"What?" He shrugged. "He isn't here; I can say whatever I want."

"Yeah, where is he?" Harry asked.

"Draco?" Hermione quickly ran through all the conversations she had with Harry, Ginny and Ron over the last week. "Was he invited?"

"Well, yeah," said Harry. "Ron was supposed to mention it."

When Harry and Hermione turned to their friend, he was staring hard at something on the wall. Harry cleared his throat, and Ron looked at him. "What? Oh, that. Oops. Ah well, more's the pity. Maybe next time." He practically skipped out of the room, either in an attempt to get out of reach of Hermione's wand or in excitement over Draco's absence.

"I'm glad you came," Harry said, walking to the door and going through it.

Hermione followed, and they headed for the outer path around the garden. "Who's here today?" she asked.

"Let's see ... Ginny, myself and James, Ron, Molly and Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Violet, and Manech, you, Percy and Penelope, George and his recent girlfriend ... Pam, I think her name is ... Oh, and two of Arthur's assistants, plus Fleur's sister Gabrielle and her husband. Don't remember his name."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know how Molly does it. She makes it look so easy! Never gets flustered when Arthur invites someone from work, or George brings six friends with him."

"It certainly gets a little chaotic at times," Harry said.

"That's a slight understatement! I don't know how you handle it so well. I am glad for these monthly meals, but I couldn't be in the middle of it, all the time."

"You nearly were," Harry pointed out. "Twice."

"No," Hermione said, waving a finger. "I would not have let myself be dragged into every Weasley drama. I would have stayed neutral and pleasant."

"Just like the time when George was dating two women at the same time, right?" Harry asked with a grin.

"That was an exception! I had a very strong opinion about that issue," Hermione said sternly.

"You have a very strong opinion on most things." He chuckled. "I doubt you could remain on the outside for too long."

She sighed. "Maybe you're right. I reckon it's a good thing it never worked out with Ron or Charlie."

Harry stopped walking. When she noticed and turned around, he was eyeing her strangely. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, catching up to her.

"It isn't nothing, Harry Potter. What?"

"I've just never heard you say that about Charlie. You either don't talk about him, or you go on about how one day, things will be righted, and you and he can..."

"Stop," Hermione whispered, pain etched on her face. She hadn't thought about Charlie, about their future or lack thereof, in a couple of weeks, and the realization surprised her. She was used to thinking about him almost daily, and since she and Draco had started their faux-relationship, Charlie had only crossed her mind once, when she'd tried to decide which dress she would wear to dinner with Draco.

Harry was speaking, but Hermione wasn't listening. She started back to the house without a word to her friend.

"Hey, I'm sorry!" he called, falling into step beside her once again. "Really. It was nice to hear you talk like it was okay again. That's all."

"It's all right, Harry. I'm not mad." Was it okay though, like Harry had said? Why hadn't her thoughts been filled with Charlie all week? She had dated since breaking up with him, but always her thoughts would return to him. The fact that they hadn't, even though the relationship with Draco wasn't real, frightened her, and she was more convinced than ever that she had to be careful.

After the meal, Hermione found Bill playing with his son.

"Hey," he said, smiling at her as she approached.

"Hi, Manech," she said, grinning at the toddler. He grinned back at her and continued walking, his hands clenched around his father's fingers. "Bill, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Not at all," he said, swinging his long in the air. "What can I help you with?"

"I have a few questions about the banking system, and I would rather you not asked me why I'm inquiring."

Bill looked at her suspiciously, one eyebrow raised. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Hermione?"

"Oh! No!" she reassured, chuckling. "I'm just curious about the procedures. In particular, opening accounts with a large initial deposit. How does that work?"

"All right." He let Manech swing his arm as they walked. "The client makes an appointment, papers are signed, and the client accompanies his or her money to the vault assigned."

"Is it possible to get an account opened without a personal meeting?" she asked. "Say, by using a proxy, or corresponding via letter?"

He shook his head. "No. For most accounts, especially the larger ones, we must see the clients in person. Usually the client wants to put additional wards on his assigned vault because he is too paranoid to let the money out of his sight to trust it to anyone else. Even goblins."

"I see." She paused and Bill swung Manech in a circle a few times, the boy laughing wildly. "Are there other banks, besides Gringotts, in the wizarding world?"

"A few," he replied. "They're smaller, less reputable. People use them when they don't want to have to answer too many questions. Gringotts has the goblins, and most of the wizarding world trusts them to run the bank efficiently and correctly, even if they don't exactly trust them." He chuckled. "That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"No," Hermione said. "It does, if you understand the nature of goblins. They can be trusted to be meticulous in keeping records and figures, but you wouldn't want to leave them alone in your home."

Bill grinned. "Precisely."

"Can you give me a list of the other, less reputable wizarding banks in Europe?"

"Hermione," he said sternly. "I know you don't want to answer any questions, but..."

"I'm just asking for information, Bill. I promise I'm not in any kind of trouble, nor have I come into a large sum of illicit money recently." She gave him her most innocent smile.

He stared at her pensively, clearly not convinced. Then he shrugged. "There aren't many because of the nature of the clientele. People who go to these banks aren't the most trustworthy people. These banks take a gamble by accepting high-risk clients, and they generally work by taking a large percentage of the initial deposit, to cover expenses they might incur as a result of granting the account. If there are subsequent deposits, they again take a large percentage. The clients accept it, because the banks don't ask who they are, what they've done, where they got the money. Gringotts is painstaking in its research."

"That's good though," she said.

"Yes, it is. It's one reason Gringotts has been so successful over the centuries. Goblins are so obsessive that they want to know everything they can about their clients."

"So these other banks ..." she prompted.

He gave her a patient look. "As I said, there aren't many. There's one in Paris, one in Finland, two in Poland, one in the Ukraine, and four in Switzerland."

"Thank you, Bill," she said. "As for Gringotts, there are locations in every country, right?"

"Yeah," he replied. "In the big cities that have a sizeable wizarding population. Paris, Rome, Barcelona, Madrid, Berlin, Prague ... the list is quite long."

"I really appreciate this," Hermione said.

They had reached the house, and Fleur came to Bill's side with Violet on her hip. "Bill, we must be going," she said, her English much improved from when she and Bill had first met.

"Sure thing," he said and then turned back to Hermione. "You are welcome. Any time. Just ... be smart. Not that I have to tell you that." He grinned and led his family into the house.

ooo

"Do you see this?" Pansy asked, holding the magazine up to his face. "Do you see your eyes?"

Annoyed, he pushed her arm away. "What do you want me to say? I like her."

She sat and examined the pictures again. "Those aren't 'I like you' eyes. You look like you're in love with her already! Merlin, it's been what, three dates? A week?"

He scowled. "I'm not in love with her."

"Well, you could have fooled me. When are you seeing her again?" Pansy asked.

"Tomorrow night," he said with a sigh. He really didn't like the way the week felt interminable without any contact from Hermione; it wasn't a good sign.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "What are you planning?"

"I'm not sure yet," he replied. "I think I'll invite her over to the Manor and cook for her."

"You can cook?" Pansy gasped dramatically.

He tried to keep scowling, but he couldn't help but chuckle. "I can prepare one thing. I learned while on a business outing. I've made it a few times since."

"Well," said Pansy haughtily. "You know that's code for sex, don't you?"

Draco nearly dropped his fork at the unexpected turn in conversation. "What?"

"You invite a woman over to your home, prepare her a gourmet meal ... How else do you think the evening is going to end?" She smirked at his expression. "Although ... are you sure Granger's a four-date kind of woman?"

He didn't need to be thinking about this right now. It was definitely not a good path for his thoughts to be on. "Maybe I'm not a four-date bloke."

Pansy laughed so hard she nearly choked on the bite she'd just taken. After drinking half her glass of wine, she looked at him, her eyes still alight with mirth. "Merlin, that's the truth. You're positively a first-date bloke. Though, it begs the question, have you even been on four dates with the same woman?"

Draco's scowl deepened, which he hadn't thought possible. "And you wonder why we don't get together more often," he growled, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"You are certainly a 'shag her and move on' kind of man." Her smile turned a bit sour. "Relationship sex is different than a one-off, Draco."

"How silly of me!" he quipped. "After all, you are the expert on relationship sex."

She glowered at him. "I have been in far more relationships than you. At least I know something about it."

"Month-long shag-fests don't count, Pansy," he bit out.

Her face turned red as she stared daggers at him. "You would know," she spat.

They glared at each other for a few moments, and then Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. You struck a raw nerve, and I attacked you." He watched his hand as he turned his spoon on its long axis. "The truth is ..." He was beginning to realize it was the truth, beyond the fake relationship. "I want more than just getting her into bed. I want ... the rest, too. And I've no idea how to accomplish it."

Pansy's anger dissipated. "I'm sorry too. But I do know that there's a difference, and you should take care with her. She won't be like all the others."

Draco chuckled wryly. "You have no idea."

"I have a little bit of one," Pansy said. "It's Granger. I don't know what you see in her."

"She makes me happy," he stated simply, and he meant it. "In a way I've never been happy before."

"Merlin knows it's about time," Pansy remarked, rummaging through her purse and taking out a cigarette and her wand.

Draco watched her light up and take a long drag. "I hate that you do that."

"I know. I'm quitting. It's harder than you'd think, you know." She looked at the thin, white stick between her fingers. "I get these headaches, and want one, and when I smoke it, the headache goes away."

"It's called addiction, Pansy. Your body is chemically dependent on those things," Draco took the bill the waiter had inconspicuously placed on their table and started counting his half. "Your part is two Galleons."

She tossed the coins on the table and remained in her seat. "You and Granger. I never would have guessed."

"Me either. What about you and Mr. Fiji?" Draco asked.

Pansy frowned. "Who?"

He chuckled. "Never mind. I've got to go...meeting in twenty minutes."

"You work too much," Pansy scolded, putting her cigarette out on the ashtray. "Granger won't stand for it. She ... well, any woman, deserves better than that."

Draco shrugged on his cloak and helped Pansy into hers. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

"She'd better not hurt you."

"I know. You'll cause her physical pain. We've been over this."

Outside the café, Pansy stopped him and turned to face him. "I'm serious. I've never seen you like this. You're still you, of course, but it's as though there's a weight that's been lifted off your shoulders. You are happy, and if she's the reason, then I hope she continues to be the reason. I've watched you, too closely, for the past seven years. Year after year, you seemed to withdraw into yourself a little more, despite gaining knowledge and business prowess. When you thought no one was watching, I would see it."

He was touched by the genuine concern in her eyes and voice.

"Don't worry, most people wouldn't have noticed. You are a very good actor, Draco." Then she smiled, indicating that the serious part of the conversation was over. "Maybe you should consider trying out for one of those Muggle films."

"Thanks for that. If my need is ever dire, I will head directly to a casting agency."

"See you when I see you," she sing-songed. Then she smirked. "Have fun tomorrow night."

With those parting words, she kissed his cheek and left him standing in the street, in mental agony over the path his mind unabashedly wandered and the images it conjured.

ooo

ooo

Hermione was in her classroom on Friday from eleven until noon, just as she had told her seventh-year students she would be. She didn't expect anyone to come to her with questions so early in the year, and so she was surprised when Evan Turner sat down in the seat across from her desk.

"Evan," she greeted, putting away the issue of Witch Weekly that contained the pictures from her dinner date with Draco. "How can I help you?"

He didn't look at her and scratched at something nonexistent on the desk. "I don't have a question about the assignment," he told her. "I ... I'm having trouble working with Sheetal."

"Oh!" Hermione tried to hide her surprise. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Our group has met twice since last Friday, and ... well .... The thing is, Professor, I kind of fancy her."

His voice was so low at this point that it took a moment for his words to sink in. "I see," she said, inwardly cheering that her observations had been correct. "I take it she doesn't reciprocate your feelings and is making things uncomfortable." Hermione didn't think a little roundabout prying would cause any harm. She had learned a thing or two from being the head of Slytherin House.

Panic flashed on Evan's face at Hermione's words. "No! I mean, I don't know. I ... haven't exactly asked."

"All right. Why are you having trouble working with her then?" she asked.

"Being around her ... it's a little ... distracting."

Hermione smiled in understanding. "I see. I'm sorry, Evan. I'm not going to change the groups around."

"No, no!" Evan said hastily. "I don't want to switch, I just thought you might be able to tell me what to do about it."

"Have you considered telling her how you feel?" Hermione asked.

"Um ... a little," he muttered.

"Why haven't you?"

"There are a few reasons," he admitted. "One being her house. But after your speech last week, that one doesn't seem so important anymore."

"In my experience, it's good to confess your feelings. Either way, you can move ahead instead of being stuck in the limbo of not knowing." Hermione folded her hands. "If she returns your feelings, you can move forward together; if not, you can see about moving on."

Evan pondered her words for a few minutes. "Hogsmeade is coming up in a few weeks."

"Oh, you're right. I had forgotten." The trip was scheduled for the third Saturday in October, and she had agreed to Blaise's suggestion about the Shrieking Shack. She'd have to discuss it with him again soon.

"Maybe I'll ask her to meet me for lunch," he said uncertainly.

"That's a good idea!" Hermione encouraged. "Lunch can lead to an afternoon stroll."

He looked terrified at the thought of spending so much time alone with Sheetal, but Hermione knew that once he got used to it, he would be glad he did.

"Thanks, Professor," Evan said, standing.

"You're very welcome," she said with a smile. "Have a good weekend!"

ooo

At five minutes to seven that night, Hermione stood before her fireplace, going over the notes she had made that week about the various banks Bill had mentioned. She was nervous, and she found herself looking forward to seeing Draco again. However, she planned to go in with her guard up. She would think about Charlie and would only discuss the task at hand. Somehow, she had managed to convince herself that her plan to protect her heart would work.

At precisely seven, she stepped into the green flames after announcing her destination, "Draco's closet," as he had instructed.

He was sitting on the sofa, and he looked up from his book when she exited the fireplace. "Good evening," he greeted formally.

"Hi," she replied, her heart skipping upon taking him in.

"Dinner should be here soon," he said, closing the book and removing his reading glasses. "I told Chippy to deliver it around seven-thirty. If you'd like it sooner, that can be arranged."

"No, that's fine," she reassured, removing her cloak. "I hadn't expected dinner."

Draco frowned and took the garment from her. "I should have mentioned it. I apologize."

Good, she thought. He was behaving very professionally. It would help her in her resolve, though it did sting a bit. With a small smile, she said, "It's all right."

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, going to a bar she hadn't noticed the last time.

"Water, for now, thank you."

While he prepared something for himself, she glanced around the closet-turned-room. It looked more ... cozy was the only word she could think of, though it didn't adequately describe it. He had added touches to make it appear lived in: paintings on the walls, drapes on the new windows, books on shelves. Hermione moved to sit on the sofa and noticed a small box on the coffee table, open, with cards organized by color. She smiled to herself and forgot all about her plan to think of Charlie.

"Here you are," said Draco, handing her a goblet of water. He sat on the other end of the sofa and nodded at the box. "That's my assignment. I hope it earns me an Outstanding."

She smiled and reached for the collection of all the people in Draco's life, personal and professional, but stopped short. "Before we start working, there's something I would like to get out of the way," she said, turning to face him.

"Go on," he said, taking a sip from his short glass.

"My ... parents want to meet you," she said in a rush. "I'm sorry, but this is supposed to look real, and I've told them about you, and they've invited you to breakfast some Saturday."

Draco nodded slowly, once. "All right."

"I see them every week for Saturday breakfast, and I'm very close with them."

"There's no need to apologize, Hermione. Their request shouldn't have come as a surprise." He paused. Merlin, he felt out of place around her! As though he was in someone else's skin, trying to pretend he was that other person. It had taken no small amount of reserve to not smile at her when he saw her.

"I'm afraid I don't have much...any, to be honest...experience with meeting the parents."

"That's fine, it's just breakfast. They know all about ... magic, and this world, but it makes them nervous. You can talk about it, but don't do magic around them."

"Understood." Draco finished his glass, refilled it halfway, and drank all of that. It reminded Hermione of what he had done on their lunch date in Hogsmeade, right before he asked if he could kiss her. "Breakfast with your parents. I can do that."

He stood then and started pacing. "I have ... a subject of my own I would like to get out of the way."

"Okay," she said warily.

"I had lunch with Pansy yesterday, and when she asked me what we would be doing tonight, I told her I wanted to invite you over and cook for you." His eyes met hers. "You know, as a cover, since we hadn't planned on going out anywhere."

"Right," Hermione said, her nerves on fire.

"She ...." He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "She said that it was code for sex."

A jolt of adrenaline shot through her, leaving her slightly numb in its wake. "What?"

He pressed on, pacing quickly and not looking at her. "That inviting you here, like that, would, in most cases, lead to ... that. Now, I know this isn't real, but it got me thinking that, at some point, the issue would have to be addressed. I will respect your wishes in this matter, we'll go at your pace, and if you would prefer to go out tonight, it's fine with me."

She hadn't even thought about kissing until he brought it up, and this had been the farthest thing from her mind. Now that she was forced to think about it, however, she couldn't help but stare at him while he paced. He was wearing a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a black, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. She felt underdressed in a plain grey skirt and red cardigan.

Draco stopped behind the sofa and leaned down, gripping the back so hard his knuckles turned white. "If we don't go out, know that Pansy, at least, will assume ...."

Hermione swallowed hard. The very idea .... The room was suddenly too warm. "This ... issue was inevitable," she began, staring at her water but not drinking any, not wanting him to know how desperately she needed to cool down. "I think the sooner we put it past us, the better. We'll stay in."

His head whipped up, a stunned expression on his face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said resolutely. "I'm certain."

"Okay," he said, releasing his death grip on the back of the sofa. "I'm glad that's settled."

"At least there won't be pictures," she muttered, thinking of the lengths to which someone had gone to get the shots of the two of them at dinner.

Draco's face turned red and his eyes went wide.

Hermione laughed. "Let's get to work before this gets awkward, shall we?"

"Don't you mean, more awkward?" he mumbled, coming around the sofa to sit once more.

"I suppose I do," she said, pulling her notes from her bag. He was right, though; the tension was thicker and more cumbersome. Hermione was eager to escape it so she began by telling him about her conversation with Bill.

When she finished, he pulled his box of cards closer. "I'm not sure what that accomplishes. The blackmailer probably didn't go to Gringotts with my money, if they ask too many questions. He probably went to one of those other banks, if he even went to a bank at all. Who knows, maybe he's stuck it all in a jar under his bed."

"You've been referring to the blackmailer as a he. Are there no women in that box?" she inquired, mostly teasing, but partly serious.

"There are. It's easier to say he all the time," he replied.

"Ah, makes sense." She smiled and then returned to her notes. "I looked into the other banks. All records are confidential, of course, but, for a fee, certain information can be ... obtained."

Draco sighed. "Because they are less than upstanding institutions."

Hermione nodded fervently. "I was amazed at the level of corruption. With very little effort on my part, I was offered a look at one bank's records from seven years ago, in exchange for a large fee."

"How large?" he asked.

"Draco! I don't want to do that," she reproved. "I want to puzzle this person out without breaking any laws."

He looked at her thoughtfully, held her gaze. "I don't care how we find him."

"If you want my help, you will care," she returned immediately, as though she had known what he would say before he said it.

Draco scowled. "This is my life in the balance, not yours. We will do things my way. I am willing to listen to alternatives, but if a man is willing to accept a bribe, then I am willing to pay."

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Malfoy."

"Yeah?" He was angry now. "Well he's the one blackmailing me. I want my life back, and there are very few things I an unwilling to do in order to achieve that end."

Hermione broke away from his eyes and stared at her notes. She saw his position, but wasn't sure if she could go along with it.

He spoke again before she could respond. "I appreciate you getting the information. What I do with it is no reflection on you."

"But if I know what you're going to do, and I don't try to stop you, I am as guilty as you are," she explained quietly.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and took several deep breaths. "We don't need to have this conversation right now. It might not come to bribes. Please continue with what you found."

Still troubled, she didn't respond immediately. "Though there are four of these banks in Switzerland, all of them require the proper documentation. I doubt the blackmailer would have gone there. That leaves five."

"Good," Draco said. "I will contact them this week, if you'll leave me the information."

She handed him the list. "That's all I was able to do this week."

"It's very helpful, thank you. I had inquired at the bank in Diagon Alley, but the goblins aren't too keen on sharing their procedures. I'm glad you had another contact."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure Bill suspected my questions were related to you."

"Yeah? How?" he asked.

"It's common knowledge now that we're dating, and suddenly I'm inquiring about large bank accounts? Sounds a little suspicious."

Draco smiled then, and her heart jumped. "You're just using me for my money, is that it?"

"Oh dear, you've figured me out," she laughed. "Guess you'll be breaking up with me now."

"Maybe I'm using you," he said with a smirk. "For ... your ...." He faltered.

"My what?" she prodded. "Advice on hair care?"

Draco laughed, clutching his sides, and Hermione started laughing with him. She was amazed at how good-looking he was when he laughed or smiled, and enjoyed being the cause of it.

"It wasn't ... that funny," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I've been under so much stress lately, but you have helped to decrease it. Drastically. I haven't laughed like that in ...." His smile faded as he tried to remember feeling so free and light. He couldn't.

A loud pop! announced the arrival of Chippy. "Dinner is ready, Master," he squeaked.

Draco recovered himself. "Excellent. We'll be dining in here."

Chippy bowed low and disappeared.

Draco took out his wand and raised the coffee table to a more suitable height for dining, then Summoned two chairs from one corner of the room. The food appeared on the table as he and Hermione sat down. They ate in pensive silence for the first fifteen minutes.

Then Hermione spoke. "Where do we go from here?"

"I've been thinking about what happens after we find this person. Do you have access to Veritaserum at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"I'm not sure if Horace keeps any in stock. I'll ask him."

"If not, try Blaise," Draco suggested. "If memory serves, he likes to be prepared for all eventualities. If he doesn't have any, we should consider brewing it ourselves."

"I can start tomorrow, if you'd like," she offered. "I'll pick up the ingredients I don't have at the Apothecary."

"No, I'll brew it here. I don't want there to be any chance that it be tainted by whoever might come across it at the school." He looked around the room. "That corner there should be adequate. We can keep an eye on it that way. I should have all the ingredients here already, so there's no need to make a trip to Diagon Alley."

Hermione nodded. "I'm trying to think of what I can do over the next week."

Draco shrugged. "Something might come up when we go over the cards I made. If not, that's all right."

"I can contact some of those banks for you," she offered.

He stared at her a long moment, as if he was deciding, then he blinked and looked away, his jaw flexing. "We'll see."

After dinner, Draco showed her every card he had made and said something about each person. The green cards were people he didn't suspect, but he had done as she had asked and made a card for everyone he could think of. The stack included Greg and his parents.

"What, I don't get a card?" Hermione joked.

"I think I've ruled you out," he said, smiling sideways at her. "You aren't likely to use Dark Magic, like the curse put on the letters."

"Ah. That's true."

The tan cards were people he didn't think had the resources to pull off the blackmail so spectacularly for so many years.

"Eventually, they would make a mistake," he argued. "They can't be ruled out, but I don't think it's them."

Yellow cards were dedicated to those Draco didn't know as well, including business associates, or people with whom he was barely acquainted. Finally, light grey cards contained the names of people he thought most likely to be the blackmailer. The set included any witch or wizard who had, at some point, used the Dark Arts on a regular basis and anyone who had a strong reason to dislike Draco or his family.

"The thing is," he said in frustration. "If I think long enough, I can convince myself that anyone is capable, and has enough motive, to want to hurt me. However, I'm almost certain that the spell he used limits the field to the grey set of cards."

Hermione flipped through the stack and saw a lot of familiar names. Rabastan and Rodolphus LeStrange, Theodore Nott and his parents, Bradford and Athena Nott, Gregory Goyle's father, Joel, Blaise Zabini and his mother, even Pansy and her mother, Hyacinth. It had to have been the hardest list to compile, second-guessing the people he knew best: his friends and family.

"Do you have a gut feeling?" she asked him quietly.

Draco peered at her through his fringe. "Over the years, I have suspected a lot of people. It did me no good, only made me anxious and even less trusting than I am now. I started to see the blackmailer in everyone I came in contact with, so I forced myself to stop looking for him in people's eyes, faces, and words." He sighed. "No, no gut feeling."

"I can't believe Pansy is on a grey card," Hermione said, reading through the information Draco had written.

"She's been in love with me for years. A few months ago, she came to me with a proposition. Marry her, and I would gain control over the Parkinson estate. Suspicion ran rampant through my mind. Had she been blackmailing all these years, biding her time until she knew my situation was desperate, and then making me an offer that would alleviate the strain?"

"I see." Hermione stared at the card, a ripple of jealousy passing through her. "She's in love with you. You had lunch with her yesterday."

Draco turned his head to look at her reading Pansy's card. Had her tone contained jealousy? Could it possibly have caused the slight hitch to her voice he had heard? Surely not!

She felt him staring, and when their eyes met, he had a very strange expression on his face. "What?" she asked.

When he spoke, his voice was equally strange. "Pansy is an old friend."

"I know," Hermione said, going to the next card.

He decided he must have heard wrong. "I can't believe how long we've been sitting here," he said as she read.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Eleven-thirty." Draco stood to stretch his legs. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Do you have butterbeer?" she asked, glancing up.

"Sure." He handed her a bottle as he started to walk slow circles around the room, his expression pensive.

It took Hermione ten more minutes to finish the cards. She yawned as she returned the grey set to the box. "Wow. I'm tired. I should get going."

Draco returned to the sofa and took the box off the table, placing it on a bookshelf. "I'll contact the banks early in the week and hopefully learn something."

Hermione stood and gathered her things. "I think I'll have a look at that spell, see if anything jumps out at me."

"Here." He pulled a book off the shelf. "I found it on page 427. It's a starting point."

"Thanks." She smiled as she accepted it.

Draco walked with her to the large fireplace.

Hermione clutched a handful of Floo powder, but paused before throwing it into the crackling flames. "I'd like to ... settle one more thing."

"Sure," he said, leaning against the wall.

"So we, um, slept together tonight."

Confusion, desire, amusement and understanding flashed through his eyes. "I ... reckon we did," he said, chuckling lightly and scratching his head.

"Was it ... good?" she asked.

"Course," he exclaimed promptly, as though offended at the suggestion it could be anything but. "Bloody fantastic. We both were."

Hermione smiled. "I thought so. What did we have for dinner?"

"The only thing I know how to prepare: fettuccine alfredo. It's quite good, I assure you."

"Sounds delicious," she said.

"Maybe I'll actually cook it some time."

"That sounds nice. Night, Draco."

"Good night, Hermione."

She hesitated again before engaging the Floo Network.

He answered her unspoken question. "We went one round...amazing...you stayed the night, but left in the morning to go back to Hogwarts in time to meet your parents for breakfast."

This time, her smile made his breath hitch.

"Lovely. See you soon, Draco." She released the handful of powder, stepped into the flames and announced her destination, then disappeared.

ooo

A/N: Thanks for reading! Beta thanks go to Manda, pokeystar, & drcjsnider. Artwork for this chapter was done by melia_eothria. Music is thanks to inadaze22. :)