Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not my characters, but I need them to make my friend, and beta for this chapter, happy. Thanks, Soul Bound (she likes this pairing and requested this prompt!).

"I want it in writing, Potter. It's that or nothing," Draco said adamantly, using his napkin to elegantly, and exaggeratedly, wipe the crumbs of his sandwich from the corners of his mouth.

"What good's putting it in writing, you bloody berk!" Ron said heatedly. "Harry's not the Minister of Magic."

"But he's got people everywhere who look up to him, and the Ministry would be swayed if he made a statement," Draco said, hope lacing the words he was obviously trying to keep resolute.

"Great bleeding idiot," Ron said as if he hadn't heard him. "Can you believe this?" he asked in exasperation, looking at Hermione.

"Well," she began, looking towards Harry, "it might help him, and he is going to tell us what we need to know, so long as we at least try this. I don't know that he's asking for much here."

Draco sneered at Ron. "I can't believe it's Granger who's got the right of it before either of you."

Harry nodded slowly. "All right. I'll write up something...here and now...with you all as my witnesses that Draco," he nodded to the other boy, "is working with us to end this war."

"And that I never would have killed anyone had... had I not been forced," Draco admitted, though it was obvious the statement cost him his pride.

"I know," Harry said softly. "I heard you tell Dumbledore that you had no choice, as Voldemort," Draco shuddered upon hearing this name, "would have killed your family." Harry looked over to Ron. "It's what the headmaster wanted to do...help Draco and his family."

"I know that, mate," Ron said. "It's just that we've been dodging the Ministry ourselves lately, and I don't know that they'll take kindly to us throwing this at them. Might start trying to follow us around even more then...if they think he's with us."

"But we won't tell them right now," Hermione said. "We'll all make statements on a parchment about it and record what we're doing. That should at least grant some leniency for Draco. As it is, we won't be able to end this war without him."

Ron nodded in agreement. "All right. And he can use the Invisibility Cloak at all times." His eyes narrowed. "How do we know he won't take off?"

Hermione grinned. "There's charms for that."

"There's my word for that," Draco put in firmly. "I'm not...I'm not my father."

"Thank God for that," Hermione said with what she hoped was a friendly smile.

Draco immediately bristled, annoyed at her comment. "How dare you speak about things you don't understand, Granger! Our life's not been as simple as yours. There are things that you...none of you, not even Weasley...could possibly understand about the pressure the Malfoys have been under for four generations now."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak ill of your father," she said softly, truly feeling guilty. "It's just that... he's tried to kill us all, and that's not something one can easily get over."

Nodding, but remaining silent, Draco brought his glass to his lips to drink the rest of his pumpkin juice. He then closed his eyes and sighed dramatically. "I could use a bath," he said finally.

"Here, I'll show you the way," Hermione said.

"Ron and I are going to put some wards on this place," Harry said, rising from his chair. "After that, we'll set about writing up the statement of Malfoy's help."

"I said I wouldn't take off," Draco retorted heatedly. "I want this to be over as much as you do. Can you imagine running from the Ministry and from Death Eaters for three years? There was only so much Snape could do to help me when..." His eyes clouded over. "Where's the bath?"

"He'll get his," Harry said coldly, leaving the room with Ron following behind him.

"This way, Draco," Hermione said as kindly as she could, though still worrying about Harry's reaction and knowing that he was likely ranting to Ron about Snape. She certainly didn't envy Ron that position, having been on the receiving end of more than one of Harry's tirades in the past years. Snape's name was the one thing that set him off...even more so than Voldemort's!

"What are you smirking at, Granger? Think this is funny, do you?" Draco asked, an expression of distaste lining his features.

"I wasn't thinking about you at all if you must know," she snapped. Pushing the door open forcefully with a grunt, she entered the lav. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd quit making your little snide comments to me. If you haven't bloody well noticed, I'm trying to help you here."

"You lot are still trying to act like you're doing something noble, but the only reason you're helping me out is because you need access to my family's manor," he replied. "You've probably been talking about it for years now." He changed his voice to something deeper and purposely obtuse in imitation of Ron. "Bet we could get a reward for bringing Malfoy in or get Orders of Merlin when Harry lucks up against the Dark Lord!"

"Grow up, Malfoy. We're not in school anymore. We really do want to help you," she said angrily. "Harry's always said that while you're an arse, you're no murderer. Accept our help or not for what it truly is, will you? I don't care, but you will keep your mouth shut."

He remained silent, snapping his mouth closed, and glared at her menacingly.

Satisfied with her words and his reaction to them, she pointed out the items in the room. "It's not as big as what you're used to, I'm sure, but it's big enough to laze about in with a good book," she said, indicating the bath. "In this cabinet are fresh towels, and in that one, just there, right, you can find any toiletries you might need."

"I would like to shave," he said suddenly and smirked immediately after. "I don't expect Potter or Weasley can grow any facial hair just yet, so I doubt there are any razors about, eh?"

"You can always use my pink shaver, Malfoy," Hermione said, flashing a smirk of her own, pleased at his look of horror. "There are unused razors in this drawer, and there's likely a," she opened the drawer, "yeah, a toothbrush here."

"What will I put on? Can't go about starkers, can I?" He arched an eyebrow. "Or would you like that?"

"Please, you've got nothing I want to see." She brushed past him and pulled the door they'd entered through nearly closed and pointed to an old wardrobe. "There are some dressing gowns in there." Frowning, she moved towards it and opened the door. "We don't use them, so it might not be as fresh as you'd like. Here, let me charm the old smell off."

Just as she'd done that and hung it up on a hook nearby, she turned to see Draco leaning casually against the closed door.

"Malfoy! What did you do?"

"Sorry? What are you on about? I was watching you."

"The door, you idiot! It doesn't open from this side!" she said, pushing him aside to try to move it anyway. "Blast!"

"Use your wand then."

"I can't. The original owners of this house has it charmed so it can only be opened from the outside...manually...and you saw the push I had to give it when we came in! I expect the arse used to lock his family in here."

"Pound on the door then. I'm sure Weasley and Potter will come running," Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly.

"It's soundproof," Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"Well, your watchdogs will be along shortly regardless."

"Not if Harry's on another diatribe again," she said, pulling herself up to sit on the sink's counter. "You'll just have to wait until they come along."

"I'm not going to wait. You can go over to the corner and close your eyes for all I care, but it's been nearly three weeks since I've had a proper bath, and I wouldn't mind a shave." He went about setting things up to do just that. "Do you mind?"

Angry with him for closing the door, though she knew he didn't know any better, she decided to give him a hard time. "I was here first. You can shave while I sit here."

He shrugged and began pulling his jumper over his head.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply. "I thought you were shaving!"

"I am, but I want to get out of this dirty jumper and not have to pull it over my clean face when I'm done." He sneered at her for a moment, lip curling hatefully. "I'd appreciate it if you'd mind your own business, or you can do as you told me to do...keep your mouth shut."

Saying nothing, she inched over slightly, as if being near a shirtless Malfoy would harm her. She watched him as he lathered his face with her shaving foam for sensitive skin and began slowly ridding his face of his whiskers.

"It didn't look all that bad like that," she blurted without thinking. He continued on, ignoring her. Her eyes drifted down from his face to his pale shoulders. They seemed quite bony, and his chest and waist were fairly slender as well...too much so. With a sudden pang, she realized that he was probably so skinny because he hadn't been eating regular meals. How would she like it if she had to forgo meals, baths, and sleep God knows where? She slid down from the countertop and moved over to sit near the corner...exactly where he'd pointed out earlier. He deserved his privacy.

Minutes passed and the water was turned on. She heard a few splashes, and then, nearly inaudibly, she heard him speak.

"Granger?"

She turned to face him and felt her breath catch in her throat. He looked nearly like the old Malfoy she remembered. "Yes?"

"Would you be able to cut my hair?"

"Oh, Malfoy, I'm not very good with that," she said honestly. "I wouldn't want to mess it up." She smirked. "Then you'd have something other than my terrible Muggle upbringing to throw in my face." Pleased that he took her words playfully, as she'd intended, she continued, "I mean, I could try."

"I would... appreciate that."

Quickly going about the business of helping him wash and rinse his hair in the sink, she began to comb it out and realized that it was indeed a bit jagged in places, sometimes thinner, sometimes longer, but it was mostly in good shape. "It'd be a shame to cut too much," she mused aloud.

"Liking my stubble? Not wanting to cut off my locks? Next thing you know, you'll be asking me into your knickers, Granger," he said with a deep chuckle, not meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She felt her cheeks heat, and she chose not to answer his jibe, assuming he was just toying with her as she had toyed with him. Using the sharp pair of scissors from Ron's small pouch, she began snipping off the strands of hair that were longer than the others, hoping she wasn't making it worse as she did so. While cutting his hair, she wondered how long it had been since he'd had his hair cut. He used to keep it much shorter and brushed back against his scalp, locked into place by some stiffening gel or hex. How long has it been since he's been in someone's knickers? She paused as that thought occurred to her. Where did that come from? she wondered, surprised with herself. That wasn't any of her business...nor did she care.

Once it was mostly even, she ran her fingers through the length, enjoying the silken feel of it. "Looks like you might only need an inch or so trimmed off," she said. "I don't know if I'm comfortable doing that, but it looks all right like this. Maybe later?" He nodded, and she took that as her cue to step away, which she did so thankfully, as her hands were beginning to tremble for reasons unknown.

Her eyes lifted to look into the mirror and found his silvery-grey eyes gazing into hers with a fierce intensity. Swallowing thickly, unable to look away but wanting to break the trance, she asked, "How did you get that scar... just there... on your chin?"

The gaze softened with sadness as he whispered, "A Death Eater... Pansy, she was..."

"She's been missing for two years now," Hermione said when words failed him. "Her father reported her as having fled England, but no one's ever heard from her."

Draco shook his head and hoarsely said, "She came with me after I went to her for help. She left it all for me, and then... and then she was killed for it." He turned his face away so that she couldn't see his expression. "Snape was able to help me, but I couldn't help her. Neither of us could. It was too late."

"There are so many things I want to ask you," she stated quietly, feeling terribly sorry for him and how guilty he must feel about Pansy's death.

He snorted. "At least you're not sitting at the edge of your desk, waving your hand in the air like an idiot."

Closing her mouth, she turned away from him, annoyed that he'd reverted back to his childish ways. She'd thought that for a moment he'd appreciated her company and truly wanted to confide in her. She was simply mistaken.

Luckily, the door opened forcefully with Ron tumbling inside. "Hate this door," he groused, looking at them suspiciously from the floor before getting up. "All right?"

Hermione nodded. "Draco didn't know about the hex on the door and closed it while I was getting a dressing gown out."

"Why's he undressed?"

"I'm missing my shirt because I shaved and washed my hair. Didn't know how long it would be before one of you came round," Draco said with a shrug.

Appreciating that he'd mentioned nothing else, Hermione hurriedly left the room, wanting to distance herself from Draco and the compassion she felt for him and his situation. Pansy's impish face flitted through her mind, and she even felt sorry for the girl, though they'd never been friends. Nobody deserved to be murdered... or to have the one they loved murdered.

Southern's Notes: Another chapter here, and I hoped my "few" followers have read and enjoyed it. There are only a few more. Thank you so much for reading. Cheers.