Reluctant Promises

A/N: Sorry it's been so long; my life got pretty crappy for a while, so I just wasn't in a writing mood.  Thank you for all of the reviews that I've received so far!  I try to respond to them, but if I don't, please know that I am reading them and your words are very encouraging for me to continue writing.  This chapter was supposed to be the last half of chapter 3, but given how long the first half of the covered day wound up, I had to split it up.  Oh, another reminder that I'm American; I'm trying my best with the Britisms, but I'm not British so I'll probably miss some.  Please read and review!  Thanks!

Two hours after lunch, Hermione and Malfoy climbed out of yet another taxi, this time at Malfoy's house.  The blonde wizard was shaking from the ride and Hermione couldn't blame him.  She was trembling slightly herself.  Their driver hadn't been particularly careful, resulting in a couple of very near misses. 

When Malfoy unlocked the front door (he must have found the keys that had been left behind by the Ministry), Hermione followed him inside.  She took a seat on the center cushion of the sofa, dropping her purse on the coffee table, while he carried his parcels into the bedroom.  She sighed, glad to have a few moments alone.

The afternoon had been quite odd.  The tension and the anger that always seemed to hover right below the surface between the two of them had eased some after their shared embarrassment in the restaurant.  Thanks to this, Hermione had been able to relax a bit more.  She hadn't been hating her time spent with Malfoy and that was the oddest thing of all.

Hermione was actually looking forward to starting his Muggle lessons in a few minutes, but not for any typical reason.  No, she was happy about it because she knew that Malfoy would get mad at her and start calling her names again.  Then things would go back to normal between them, and she was anxious for that feeling of normalcy.

Glancing at the bedroom door and wishing he would hurry up, she checked her watch.  It was already nearly three and she still had to teach him how to use his mobile and she wanted to teach him at least the basics of cooking.  At this rate she wouldn't even get home until well after dinner, especially if it took him as long to understand the mobile as it had Ron.

At the thought of Ron, she felt another stab of guilt.  She had been relaxed with Malfoy and she knew that Ron wouldn't be happy if he knew that.  He didn't trust Malfoy, and, to be honest, neither did she, but Ron wouldn't like the thought that she had settled on an unspoken truce with the other wizard.  She felt as if she had betrayed her boyfriend, even if her conversation with Malfoy had never drifted beyond the bounds of her plans for the day's lessons and his shopping.  Most of their time that afternoon had been spent in silence, just like that morning, only without the tension.

"Cooking or mobile first?" Malfoy questioned, coming out of his room.

Hermione stood.  "Mobile first, I think.  Unless you're hungry?"  She knew Ron would want at least a snack by now.

He shook his head.  "I'll be good for a couple more hours."  He flopped down on the sofa next to the cushion that she'd abandoned and eyed her.  "Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to sit down?"

Hermione dithered for a couple of moments before finally settling primly on the edge of her previous seat.  She leaned over, reached into her purse, and pulled out the phone that Harry had given her that morning.  Pulling back, her spine straight, she took a deep calming breath as she held the mobile out to Malfoy.  She immediately wished she hadn't because his warm, masculine scent washed over her.  How had she not noticed how good he smelled?

Shaking her head briefly to clear this extremely odd thought, she settled into the comfortable role of professor.  "That's a mobile phone.  It's a Muggle device that is used to contact, or call, other people who own telephones."

He turned the mobile in his hands over, examining the exterior and then flipping it open, a tiny piece of paper fluttering out.  He held the phone to his ear.

"I don't hear anything.  I think it's broken," he announced, shutting it again.

Hermione shook her head and fought not to grin.  "You have to actually dial the number of the person you want to talk to.  Otherwise you won't hear anything."

He frowned.  "Oh.  How do I dial someone?  How do I get other people's numbers?"

Surprised at his apparent interest in learning how to use his mobile, Hermione felt a slight disappointment that the lessons weren't going how she had intended.  They were both supposed to be annoyed and calling each other names by now.  Instead, Malfoy was actually paying attention to her explanations and Hermione was trying not to breathe through her nose because his scent disturbed her.  She had to fix this.  The truce was nice, but she couldn't handle what it was doing to her nerves now that they were no longer in public.  Shoving aside her discomfort, Hermione reached out and took the mobile from him.

"I think even you are smart enough to figure out how to get others' numbers; you just ask.  As to dialing, once you have a number, you can actually enter it in the built-in address book in the phone."

While she hit the correct button, Malfoy scooted closer to her on the couch and leaned over so that he could see what she was doing.  Hermione moved to put some distance between them and he immediately followed.  Scooting away again, and ignoring the way he followed her, Hermione continued with her lesson.

"All of the numbers that you enter into the phone and save for your future use show up on this list.  Right now, three numbers are saved in your mobile.  See?"

Her side hit the arm of the sofa and she couldn't move any further.

"No," Malfoy announced, annoyance in his tone.  "I can't see because you won't stop moving.  Now quit it."

He moved closer to her again (much too close, her mind screamed at her) and again leaned over to see the mobile in her hand.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled. 

She felt ridiculous; he was just trying to see the phone and she was acting like he was trying to steal her virtue or something.  Hermione moved the phone closer to him so that he could see this time.

"Could you show me how you got to the list again?" he asked, peering down at the mobile.

"Right."  She hit the button to back out to the main display.  "See, you just push this button right here," she demonstrated, "and your address book pops up.  You can just select a name from the menu, hit the call button, and that'll dial the person."

She selected her own name from the list, pushed the proper button, and then listened as her ring tone came from her purse.

"To answer the phone, you simply have to flip it open when it rings and it will connect you automatically to the person calling."

She pulled her own phone out of her purse and opened it to stop the ringing before shutting it and dropping it back on the coffee table.  While she was distracted, Malfoy snatched his mobile from her and pushed one of the buttons.  Hermione leaned back and observed him in silence for a moment.  When his brow furrowed in disgust at something on the display, she fought not to laugh.  She guessed that he had just seen Harry's name in the list.

"Potter?  Why in the name of Merlin is Potter's name in my mobile?" he questioned, his revulsion clear.

"I have a life outside of my job, Malfoy," Hermione reminded him.  "I may not always be able to answer my mobile when you call.  If you have an emergency and can't reach me, you can call Harry and he'll help you.  He's in charge of your family's rehabilitation, so he can take care of anything that comes up if you can't reach me."

Malfoy sneered.  "Duly noted.  Call Saint Potter if you're too busy shagging the Weasel to answer your phone."

Hermione blushed.  She really didn't want to talk about her sex life with Malfoy, but she couldn't just let his attitude about Ron stand.

"Ron and I live together, so, yes, there will be times when I can't answer the phone because I'm focused on him," she confirmed as calmly as she could, her cheeks a bright red.  "I don't know that this will be a huge problem for you though, because I don't see you calling unless it's an absolute emergency."

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner.  "I doubt I'll have to call Potter at all.  If I call and you don't answer, I'll assume you're shagging Weasley.  I'll just wait two minutes and call again.  I can't imagine Weasley lasts much longer than that."

Hermione was completely mortified at Malfoy's words; he was talking about her love life with Ron as if it were an appropriate topic of conversation.  She could also feel her anger at Malfoy rising again and she welcomed the feeling.  It meant things were normal again between them.

"My relationship with Ron is completely off limits.  I'm not here to discuss my love life with you, Malfoy.  I'm here to teach you how to survive in the Muggle world, so I suggest we get back to that," she declared in a strained voice.  Reaching over, she plucked the slip of paper that had fallen from his mobile off his thigh.  As she suspected, it was his number, so she quickly put it into her phone and stood up.  "You stay here.  I'm going into the kitchen and you can try calling me."

Face still the color of a tomato, Hermione scurried into the kitchen, eager to be away from Malfoy's irritating self.

ooooo

Draco watched with great amusement as Granger practically fled from the room.  That was why he loved torturing her; she made it only too easy for him.  Once she had disappeared from sight, he looked back down at his mobile.  He couldn't believe Potter's number was there (and he was never going to use it), but he was happy to see that he had a number for his mother. 

Granger's instructions were pretty simple, so he decided to give it a try.  Selecting her name from the list, he hit the button she had indicated.  He almost immediately heard the now familiar song ring out from the other room.  Holding the mobile to his ear, he listened to a ringing sound until it ended and her voice floated to him over the line.

"Great, Malfoy.  Now that I know you can make a call, let's try receiving one.  Close your phone, and it'll disconnect automatically.  Do it now."

Draco frowned at the phone; he didn't feel like taking orders from Granger.  He knew that the sooner they moved onto cooking the sooner she'd leave though, so he flipped the phone shut.  A few seconds later, the mobile let out an shrill tone.  He flipped it open immediately to end the noise and put it to his ear.

"Granger, you better tell me how to change the noise the mobile makes," he answered.

"Why?  Do you not like it?" her voice came back.

He grimaced; she sounded awfully amused.  "No, I don't."

"That's good," she replied.

She had clearly been pleased with his answer, so Draco stood from his spot still on the sofa and made his way into the kitchen.  She had her back to him and her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.  She clearly didn't hear him coming.  Happy to have the advantage, he sneaked up on her and poked her as hard as he could between the shoulder blades.  She let out a squeak and jumped, spinning around to face him.

"Malfoy!" she shouted.

He smirked at her.  "Teach you to laugh at me.  Now teach me how to change the tone of my mobile."

"Oh, no.  I taught you how to both make and receive calls, and that's all I'm teaching you.  If you want to change the ring tone, you can figure it out yourself," she declared with a straight face.

Draco could see that she was biting back a grin and figured out that she was teasing him.  His world seemed to fall out of sync at the realization.  Yeah, he could definitely get used to having a truce with her.  Not that he'd stop torturing her; he loved the way she got embarrassed so easily too much to stop.  Still, there was no denying that Granger wasn't as much of a bint when she relaxed a little.

"I'll remember this," Draco threatened.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Malfoy," she stated in a bored voice.  "Are you ready to move onto the cooking lesson?"

Grimacing in distaste, Draco nodded.  He still couldn't believe he actually had to cook for himself.

Five minutes later, Draco decided that Granger was having entirely too much fun bossing him around.  She hadn't even asked him what he wanted for dinner.  Instead, she had decided that she was going to teach him how to make a simple cheese and egg.  She was perched on top of the counter (so she could keep an eye on what he was doing) with a glass of water, instructing him on how to complete the recipe, which she apparently had memorized.  He had already gathered the ingredients and utensils she had told him to and was currently pouring a bit of oil in a pan on top of the thing that she called a stove.

"Now, add some butter to that," she directed.

He stared down at the stick of the yellow substance in confusion.  How much was some?

"Just guess at it," Granger explained.  "There's not really a precise amount of butter for this dish, but it shouldn't be too much."

Taking the butter knife that he had gotten from the drawer, he sliced one end off and added it to the pan.  He watched the butter for a bit, expecting it to melt, but nothing was happening.

"There's something wrong with the stove.  It's not melting," he proclaimed authoritatively.

Granger snickered.  "Of course not.  You haven't turned the heat on."  She reached over and pointed to a knob below the surface of the range.  "This knob controls the flame for the burner you're using.  Turn it all the way until the flame lights and then turn it back down until you have a low flame.  While you wait for the butter to melt, you can slice up the mushrooms."

Draco followed her directions.  When the fire popped up under the pan, he managed not to jump.  He hadn't expected it to happen so suddenly, but then again, he never would have thought that Muggles would have a way to make fire without wood.  Using a slightly sharper knife, he began to slice the mushrooms, dropping them all into the skillet when the butter had melted.

"Good, now slice the cheese thinly and put it at the bottom of that pan."  She pointed at the small baking pan she had pulled from one of the cabinets earlier.  "Put it in the oven and let the cheese bubble.  Then, beat the eggs.  You can use salt and pepper in them if you want."

Draco glared at her.  She was ordering him around but not doing a single thing to help him.  She should be doing the work, not him.  He definitely shouldn't be cooking while she just sat there giving him directions and looking way too amused by the whole thing.  After he got the cheese in the oven and followed her instructions to turn it on, he took his frustration out on the two eggs that she had shown him how to break into a bowl without getting shell in them too.  Once his eggs were thoroughly massacred, he reached down to pull the now bubbling cheese from the oven.

"Wait, Malfoy!" Granger called quickly.  "You need oven gloves!"

Her warning came too late and Draco picked up the dish by the tips of his fingers, only to drop it on the counter with a curse as they burned.

ooooo

Hermione set her water down and jumped off the counter as soon as Malfoy cursed.  The stupid boy!  He had to know the dish would be hot if the cheese was melted.  Malfoy immediately stuck his fingers under the faucet, the cold water running over them.  Hermione, however, knew that would only make the burning worse once he removed his fingers from the water, so she went to the fridge and grabbed the jar of pickle slices before joining him.  After opening the jar, she reached over and turned off the water, pulling his hands to her.

"Don't just stand there you stupid bint -- cast a cooling charm!" he cried out in a pained voice.

Hermione shook her head and ignored his foul language.  She knew that it was just the pain talking (this time at least).  Reaching into the jar, she plucked one of the pickles from the very top.  As she started to place it on the tip of his index and middle fingers, Malfoy pulled his hands away.

"What are you doing?!  Use your wand!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, the pickle slice dangling limply from her fingers.  "I'm not using my wand.  How will you learn to take care of any future burns the Muggle way if I do?"

He eyed her warily.  "You're going to help me with pickles?"

"Yes.  My mom worked at a restaurant while she was at university.  Burns were a frequent issue there and they quickly learned that pickles soothed them better than anything else.  Now, are you going to let me help you?" she asked patiently --  after all, she wasn't the one with the burnt fingers.

Beneath the discomfort on his face, she could see his skepticism, so she figured he needed a little more convincing.

"Come on, Malfoy.  What do you have to lose by trying the pickles?" she prodded.

"They could make the pain worse," he stated, almost accusingly.

Hermione sighed; she should have known.  "You'll just have to trust me when I tell you that they won't."

He snorted, and Hermione couldn't really blame him.  They may have come to an unspoken understanding, but there was still no trust between them.  She knew that if their roles were reversed she certainly wouldn't have trusted him -- at least, not easily.  So, she waited.

Finally, Malfoy held his hands back out to her.  She cradled his right one against her stomach and silently pressed the pickles to his fingers and thumb.  She couldn't help but wish that he would say something typically irritating because tending his burns felt entirely too intimate.  After she had repeated the same process on his left hand, she stepped back awkwardly and screwed the lid back onto the pickles.  When she looked up and noticed him watching her, she avoided his gaze by placing the pickles back in the refrigerator.

"This doesn't feel any different from the water, and now I'm going to smell like pickles," Malfoy complained breaking the quiet.

Hermione was so relieved to hear him acting bratty that she could have kissed him (although that would probably lead right back to the awkwardness). 

"Yes, they feel the same right now," she admitted, reaching over and flipping the burner under the mushrooms off, "but when you take the pickles off in a minute, the burning will stay gone, unlike with the water."

He still clearly didn't believe her, but she wasn't worried.  She knew she was right, having used the trick every time she burned herself while she was at home (not that Malfoy was likely to admit it).  She removed the pan of mushrooms from the heat.

"I'm running to the loo.  I expect you to be ready to resume the lesson when I get back," she announced.

"Dammit woman!  I'm injured!" he called after her.

Hermione couldn't help but grin.

When she arrived back a couple of minutes later, Malfoy was washing the pickle juice from his hands.  Hopping back up onto the counter, she resumed her (rather enjoyable) task of directing him around the room to finish his egg and cheese dish.  Bossing Malfoy about was definitely another perk to her new job.  Once he had placed the dish back into the oven for the eggs to cook, she clapped her hands lightly together.

"Okay.  While we wait on that -- you'll have to keep an eye on it, by the way, to make sure it doesn't burn -- do you have any questions for me?"  She thought they should use their wait wisely.

"Yeah.  How can you stand shagging Weasley?" he asked, his face the picture of innocence even as his silver eyes sparkled with mirth.

Hermione felt herself flushing lightly.  "I meant about the Muggle world or what's expected of you over the next year."

His expression grew contemplative.  "You mentioned something earlier that I'm a little confused about.  You said that Potter's in charge of my family.  So why are you my liaison?  Why not him, like with my mum?"

A little surprised that he'd actually been listening to her, Hermione thought back to her conversation with Harry the day before. 

"He recently received a promotion to Head of Auror Training.  The Ministry is completely overhauling the training program since the war demonstrated a severe lack in the department.  Harry's in charge of creating the new program, so he's really busy with that.  He doesn't have time to teach you about the Muggle world since, as you can see, it's a rather time-consuming endeavor."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully.  A thought struck Hermione and she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling.

"Why?  Wishing it was Harry here with you instead of me?"

His jaw dropped in disbelief before he exclaimed, "Ew, no!  Merlin!"  He shuddered.  "One Malfoy on speaking terms with Potty is quite enough, thanks."

Hermione snickered, leading into a snort, at his response.  It was exactly what she had expected from him.

"Don't call him that," she admonished when she had regained her composure.  He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, "You should check your eggs and make sure they're coming along okay."

While he checked them, she started in on some of the facts that he needed to know.  She decided to start with basic information such as the Royal Family and the current Prime Minister, plus the Muggle governmental system.  While she talked, he asked questions where needed.  It was a rather comfortable session, and a good use of time while they waited on his eggs.  At this rate, she would be home in plenty of time for dinner.  By the time Malfoy pulled his cheese and egg out of the oven (using the gloves this time), she had covered the majority of what she had wanted to for that day.

"What do you have to go with this?" he asked.

She frowned.  She hadn't stocked the kitchen, of course, so she wasn't too sure what was available outside of the refrigerator, which she had been into a couple of times.  Sliding back off the counter, she started to rummage through the cupboards.

"I usually have warm toast with butter and strawberry jam when I make a cheese and egg, but I'm not sure what you want, or what's available."  She pulled the cabinet above the microwave open and let out a triumphant cry.  "Aha!  There's all sorts of instant food in here.  It looks like whoever prepared the house provided several different choices of crisps.  Oh, and there are biscuits too.  Not really a dinner side dish," she muttered to herself, pushing them aside.  "Could make an easy snack though.  What do you think?"

She turned around to find Malfoy standing right behind her, his chest nearly touching hers and she let out a surprised gasp.  He wasn't looking at her though; he was surveying the contents of the cupboard.  Reaching over her head, he pulled out a bag of sour cream and onion flavored crisps and carried it to the table.  Recovering from her shock, Hermione picked up her abandoned water glass and set it in the sink.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today.  I'll teach you how to use the dishwasher tomorrow morning.  Make sure you soak your dishes tonight; it'll make things easier," she announced.

Malfoy grunted in understanding, his mouth full of egg, cheese, tomato, and mushroom.  Hermione raised an eyebrow.  He hadn't spoken with his mouth full; perhaps Narcissa had taught him manners. 

"I'm going to head home.  I'll be over around the same time tomorrow morning as I was today," she explained.  "We'll work on some of the basic chores to keep the house up and continue the cooking lessons.  Goodnight."

Hermione turned on the spot and disappeared with a soft pop, missing his return goodnight.

ooooo

Harry apparated into the back garden of his cottage in Godric's Hollow.  It had been a long day of meetings over his ideas for the new training program, and he was thrilled to be home.  Sometimes, he wondered why he ever even left the house, and then he'd remember that he was trying to prevent his child having to live through a war like the one he'd been through and know that it was worth it.

As he started down the garden path toward the door, the delicious scent of beef casserole mixed with treacle tart wafted to him from the open windows.  Luna had clearly decided to cook tonight and that was just what he needed after his difficult day.

"Hi, Harry," Luna said brightly, as he pushed the back door open and entered the kitchen.

"'lo, Luna," he responded wearily, taking a seat at the set kitchen table and watching her move with that unnatural grace that was distinctly hers.

At his tone, she turned around, a concerned frown on her face.  "You had a bad day."  It wasn't a question.  "What happened?"

He sighed as she moved back to the salad she was creating.  "Just running into resistance to my ideas from some of the more traditional wizards.  You know how I want to implement a Muggle training program for all Aurors since we sometimes deal with them in our work?"  He watched the back of her blonde head bob.  "The older wizards don't think it's necessary.  They believe it would be a waste of our trainees' time, adding onto the three years it already takes to qualify."

Pausing as she sliced a cucumber, Luna glanced back at him.  "That makes no sense.  Even when the Muggle Liaison Office gets involved, the Aurors are usually first on the scene and the ones that have to deal with the Muggles while they're most scared and confused.  Right?"

Harry nodded.  "Right.  That's why I think it would be a good idea for them to have a basic understanding."

Dropping the last of the cucumber into the salad, Luna reached for a tomato.  He could tell that she was mulling over his words from the slight narrowing of her eyes even as the rest of her face remained as dreamy as ever.

"It would also weed out anyone with less than noble intentions; anyone who's protection is conditional on blood status," she finally stated insightfully.

He hadn't even thought of that angle, but it did make sense.

"I hadn't thought of that, but it's a good point.  Maybe I'll try that angle in my meetings tomorrow."  He groaned at the thought of another day of stuffy old wizards.  "At least I have Kingsley on my side."

Luna gave him a gentle smile as she set the salad on the table.  "Something else is bothering you.  What happened with Hermione and Draco today?"

Every time she zeroed in on his unspoken issues like that, it still amazed him that she knew him so well.

"They're having problems.  I can't go into much detail because of confidentiality, but he's already broken the rules set for him.  Hermione doesn't know how he managed it because we didn't pick up anything at the Ministry.  She called me for help this morning.  Hopefully, with the measures we've put in place, we'll catch him in the act if he does it again," he explained, as vaguely as he could.

Luckily, Luna was smart, so she was able to figure out what had happened without the details.

"That's exactly why the two of them are perfect for each other.  He's already keeping her on her toes.  Once they get past their history, it'll only be a matter of time before they realize it too.  I bet, as frustrated as she seemed, she's probably actually having fun with a mystery to solve," she stated surely.

Harry frowned.  He wanted to argue, but then he remembered his phone call with her earlier that day.  It had felt like old times, listening to her piece together her ideas, and her voice had been so full of life, even if the annoyance had been there too.  He could have sworn that she was cheerful when they hung up, and he had actually felt the same himself, hearing it in her voice.  He was still sure that Ron made her happy, but he had to admit that his other best friend couldn't provide the same sort of challenge to her that Malfoy could.  Disturbed to find himself even contemplating that Hermione and Malfoy could be good together, he switched the subject.

"How was your day?" he asked.

Luna set the casserole and then two glasses of milk on the table before taking her seat.  "Ginny stopped by while I was finishing up a new article.  There were two different disappearances that have been contributed to lethifolds.  They took place within ten miles of each other in the States, which is highly unusual because lethifolds live in the tropics.  The disappearances were entirely too far north to be within their natural range.  I suspect that the victims were merely staging their vanishings, but if the lethifolds are migrating to new hunting grounds, it will be a huge story."

"You're probably right, and that close together, the two probably disappeared together -- I'm sure there are precedents of other witches and wizards faking lethifold attacks to run off together," he mused.  Of course, he wasn't very knowledgeable about magical creatures.

"There was the case of Janus Thickey.  He faked an attack so he could desert his family to be with a tavern owner," she confirmed.  "He only moved five miles away though, so he was found very quickly."  She shook her head at the sheer stupidity of that move.  "Like I was saying, Ginny visited as I was finishing the article, so we took tea together."

"What'd she have to say?"

Harry and Ginny hadn't worked out when they had tried dating again after the war.  Their relationship had been great physically in the beginning, but eventually that had faded, leaving them with very little in common.  The year of chasing Horcruxes had changed him, aged him, and he had left her behind.  She simply hadn't been able to comprehend what he had been through.  That wasn't her fault; it was simply that she had spent half the year ensconced at her great-aunt's home with most of her family while he was on the run from Snatchers and Death Eaters, captured by them, and encountered several other near death situations.  Their breakup had been mutual and they had been able to remain friends afterward.

What had driven Ginny and him apart was actually part of why he and Luna understood each other so well.  She had spent several months in the hands of the Death Eaters, working hard to keep her spirits up for Mr. Ollivander.  She had once, very briefly, told him about what she had experienced over those months and it had been worse than what he would have imagined.  He still marveled at the fact that she was as well-adjusted as she was.  If he had been through what she had been...well, what had happened to Hermione during their brief capture paled in comparison.  Needless to say, Luna understood the nightmares that he still had from time to time of that period of his life.

"She and Oliver are fighting again.  He's angry that the Harpies won their last match against Puddlemere.  She's angry that he's blaming his missed saves on her presence," Luna's voice broke his reverie.  "All of us girls have tried to explain that her relationship with Oliver simply isn't going to work.  Quidditch is his life and as long as they're on opposing teams, especially while hers is doing better, he's not going to be able to keep work and romance separate."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes.  He was so tired of hearing about Ginny's relationship with Oliver Wood.  He had thought Ron and Hermione fought all the time, but Ginny and Oliver were like Ron and Hermione in third year all over again.  He couldn't understand why she kept trying with him.  She was his friend, so Harry wanted her happy and that was clearly never going to happen with Wood.

"Have you told her about the Nigglewumpfs?"  Harry did pay attention to Luna's creatures.

A sad expression on her face, she nodded.  "Of course, but she always laughs when I mention them.  Quite strange, really.  It'd help if the Nigglewumpfs would tell me who her best romantic match is, but they're staying quiet on that for now.  I think the bitterness of her relationship with Oliver is blocking their ability to find the right guy," she elaborated, her voice showing a rare frustration.

Harry really didn't want to get pulled into another plot to play matchmaker, so he quickly distracted Luna by asking about recent Crumple-Horned Snorkack sightings. 

Merlin love her, she never could resist that topic.

ooooo

When Hermione got back to her flat, she was sure that she was in the wrong place.  It looked like her flat, but the wonderful scent of grilled chicken floated toward her from the kitchen.  It almost smelled like Ron had cooked dinner.  Heart beating faster at the thought that he would make her dinner, she hurried into the other room.

Sure enough, Ron stood in front of the small indoor electric grill.  Hermione moved up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back.

"You made dinner?" she asked.

"I was hungry and couldn't wait for you to get home," he responded in a tight tone.

Hermione frowned and pulled away from him.  Stepping to his side, she checked his profile.  Why did he sound so upset?

"Did you have a bad day at work?" she questioned.  Maybe he needed to vent.

"Not really.  It was pretty normal.  How was your day?"

Hermione immediately went on her guard when she heard the edginess in his tone.  She knew that she would have to tread carefully because showing even the slightest sign of softening toward Malfoy would hurt her relationship with Ron.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it wasn't exactly great either," she answered vaguely.

"Oh," he replied.  "What did you do with him?"

She bit back her annoyance over the fact that she had told him just that morning that she was taking Malfoy shopping.  Didn't he ever listen to her?

"I took him shopping for Muggle clothing and then taught him how to use his mobile.  I also started his cooking lessons.  He burnt himself," she added, hoping to lighten Ron's clearly sour mood.

It worked because the corner of Ron's mouth twitched.  "He did?"

Relieved that he was perking up, she elaborated.  "He did.  He didn't use gloves to take the pan out of the oven and burnt his fingers."

"Prat," Ron muttered.  "Any idiot knows not to grab a hot pan with bare hands."

Hermione tried to peek over Ron's shoulder to see what he was cooking, but he was too tall.

"So you're making chicken?" she asked.

"Yeah."

While Ron removed the meat from the grill, Hermione went to the fridge for a can of Sprite.  She couldn't wait to try the very first meal that her boyfriend had ever made for her.  The fact that he would cook dinner even when he was in a bad mood because of her job was extremely touching.

When she turned back around after popping the top on the can, she saw that Ron had already sat down at the table with his plate.  She moved toward the grill, expecting to find her chicken still there (she didn't expect for him to make her plate; she was just happy he had taken a step in the right direction by cooking).  Dismay and a tinge of disappointment ran through her when she realized that there was no chicken waiting for her on the grill.

"Oh, sorry.  Did you want some of the chicken too, Hermione?  I didn't even think to make you some," he apologized.

Fixing a bright smile to her face, Hermione shook her head.  "No, it's okay.  I think I have a can of ravioli in the cabinet."

While Hermione fixed her bowl of pasta, she tried to ignore the sounds of pleasure that Ron made as he ate.  As long as he was in a good mood and their relationship was back to normal, she was happy.

ooooo

Hermione was awoken around midnight by the sound of her mobile ringing.  Struggling out from under Ron's large arm, she tried to reach for her mobile. 

"Shut it up," Ron mumbled, shoving her toward her nightstand as he rolled over.

Grumbling under her breath about Ron's rudeness, she put her hand out and stopped herself from hitting the nightstand.  Yawning, she grabbed her mobile and saw Harry's name on the display.  She became instantly alert.

"Harry, is it Malfoy?" she asked, already climbing out of bed and reaching for her jeans.

"Yeah.  We have a report of elf magic at his house.  If you get over there right now, you should be able to catch him in the act," Harry offered.

"Oh, good."  She moved the phone just long enough to pull her jumper over her head.  "I'm on my way.  I'll file a report about what I find tomorrow morning."

"Meet me at my office at eight."

"Okay."

With that, they disconnected.  Hermione grinned while she tied the laces of her boots.  Oh, she had Malfoy right where she wanted him now.