Ginny spent the whole night on the bathroom floor with her, comforting her the best she could, but every time Hermione looked at her, she felt Draco's breath against her face as he told her how much her best friend was worth to the Death Eaters. She wouldn't let her brain focus for too long on that number, or else the number 35,000 would flicker across her eyelids.

On the night in question, she had been "untouched," as Draco called it. She was still untouched. She and Ron had never gotten far enough in their relationship before he took off for Ireland and she left for Hogwarts. So, there would have been some sort of a test to see if she was still a virgin? She clamped down on the gates of her mind before she could imagine a world where the Auction took place.

She always assumed that if Harry lost the war, she would have already died on the battlefield, or else she would have gone down fighting after his death. She never imagined what would have happened to her if she survived the battle.

Ginny had surmised that she was distraught over something to do with Draco pretty early on, but she didn't play her game, digging for information. She just sat with her on the bathroom floor all night, conjuring a blanket and pillow whenever Hermione started nodding off, crying, dreaming. It wasn't until around three in the morning that Hermione could speak to her. She told her about the Wizengamot dungeons. About how cold he was until suddenly he snapped. She told her pieces that she had forgotten by now, pieces that still did not make sense to her – he accused her of wanting to "save" him, he accused her of creating a Life Debt, he...

Ginny watched her stutter. "What?"

"I think he came on to me." Hermione's brows stitched together as she tried to remember.

I never volunteered to be your 'champion.'

Then what is it you are volunteering for?

"Really?" Ginny waited.

"Don't get too excited," Hermione scoffed. She adjusted her position on the floor. "I probably misread it."

Ginny watched her carefully, but asked her to continue. Hermione told her how quickly it all shifted downhill. When she got to the Auction, she left Ginny out of it. She didn't want that to sit on her friend's shoulders. When Ginny heard the amount 30,000 galleons, her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped.

"I—I can't.... Hermione, that can't be real. He has to be messing with you."

"The Auction?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure the Auction was actually discussed, those sick fucks," Ginny said, waving her hand. Hermione thought it odd that Ginny took it so well when she had been up all night vomiting over it. "It's the amount. Who has 30,000 galleons lying around for that kind of thing!"

"Pure-blood aristocrats?" Hermione shrugged, sipping from the water glass Ginny had conjured for her.

"That can't have been the amount. He's exaggerating or made it up on the spot to torture you." Ginny huffed.

"It's an oddly specific amount to 'make up,'" Hermione said. "He also said 5,000 galleons would be added on if I was a virgin."

Ginny pulled her eyes from the bathroom cabinets she was frowning at to look at Hermione with wide eyes. "He said that to you?"

"If it could be proven that I was 'untouched' they would pay more for me." Hermione felt like saying this out loud to her should make her cry or vomit again, but she supposed she was a bit numb to it now.

"What brought this up?" Ginny said. Hermione looked up from her glass of water to see Ginny's eyes sparkling.

"It was... a part of his stream of consciousness, I suppose."

"But he's saying these awful things to you, and you... what?" Ginny searched her eyes for something.

"I was trying to get out. I was about to throw up on him." Hermione laughed a little at that horrible thought.

"Get out?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, he had me pinned. And every time I tried to leave he'd block my path." Hermione shuddered at the memory of his eyes and the hot puff of his breath. Hermione looked up when Ginny said no more. Ginny's face was oddly bright, but she wasn't smiling. "What?"

"So," Ginny began. "He's teasing you about your virginity as he's pressing you up against a wall?"

Hermione frowned. "You make it sound very juvenile."

"It is very juvenile." Ginny nodded. "It sounds like the two of you never left Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head and looked at the rug she was sitting on. It hadn't felt juvenile in the moment. It had felt terrifying.

"I guess it only supports your point that I slapped him, too?" She looked up at Ginny with a shy smile.

This sent Ginny over the moon, and she laughed and begged for more information, and for the first time in twenty-four hours Hermione felt proud of herself.

~*~

She almost called in sick to Cornerstone on Saturday morning, but she was at least grateful that she would not be seeing Draco. She supposed he might be cruel enough to show his face after their conversation yesterday. She really had no idea to what lengths he would go anymore. And she probably had never known.

She checked the reserved requests first thing that morning to make sure there were none under Black or Malfoy. As the shop opened and the hag shuffled in, she was able to put yesterday behind her.

Cornerstone was surprisingly busy that day, with almost always a line of two people at the register, so when a large gentleman with a mustache bid her a good day and moved away from the register, Hermione was completely thrown to see Narcissa Malfoy in the doorway.

Narcissa's eyes roved over the stacks before landing on her. Frozen in place, Hermione's ears started burning. Merlin, she had slapped her son yesterday. Was Narcissa Malfoy here to request that she please keep her filthy Muggle-born hands off her precious pure-blood heir?

Narcissa Malfoy smiled.

Hermione blinked.

"Miss Granger," she said. Her voice dripped like honey out of a bottle. "Good morning."

Hermione watched Narcissa Malfoy ascend the two steps to the main landing, smiling at her.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione croaked. "Good morning."

"Draco did tell me that you had a weekend job here." Narcissa Malfoy floated to the counter and placed a delicate hand on it. "I love this shop. It's so much nicer to be out of the way of the bustle of Diagon Alley, don't you think?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yes, absolutely. I feel the same way."

"I believe Draco spent several of his summers at this shop, reading and escaping the rush of the market." Narcissa waved her hand and shook her head, smiling still. "You must have run into him here before, yes?" Narcissa's eyes flickered for a moment, just as her son's did. She wanted a specific answer...

"I- Um, no, actually. We never saw each other here before... before a few weeks ago." Hermione placed her hands on the counter and immediately brought them back down. "What brings you in to Cornerstone today?" She held her breath, waiting for the ball to drop –

"The book on the Goblin Wars," Narcissa said.

Hermione's brows lifted. A book? Not "the handprint you left on my son's cheek" or "the silly infatuation you have with my son"? A book? She came to a bookstore for the purpose of a book?

"Yes?" Hermione said. "Did you need to return it?"

"I loved it," Narcissa said. She grinned at her. "Draco told me it was a favorite of yours as well?"

Draco... did what?

"I – Well, yes. I do love that author—"

"I was hoping you could point me to another book of hers or a similar title."

"I – Yes, I can absolutely – um," Hermione stammered. She began to move around the counter, then remembered that she had left the ledger open on the counter. "I will... just let me..." She doubled back and tucked the ledger into a drawer. "Yes. Alright. Follow me, please."

Hermione rounded the counter, praying that Narcissa Malfoy did not now think she was ill in the head. She could hear the click of dragon leather heels behind her as she stumbled to the stacks to the left of the entrance, just now remembering that she was wearing trainers, Muggle jeans, and a T-shirt of a Muggle music group. She stopped in front of the M's.

"Alright, so, Mattie McHandry has also written similar non-fictions with regard to the Centaur and Elvish histories, and she should be coming out with a Werewolf book later this year –"

"I'll take both. And please place an order for me for the third when it comes out."

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Narcissa Malfoy. She had a pleasant smile on her lips, and a plan behind her eyes.

"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. Excellent choices." Hermione grabbed the Centaur book and reached for the Elf book. It hit her that Narcissa Malfoy was about to purchase a book about house-elf repression and the role wizards have played. It was like a broomstick collision that you couldn't look away from. "Was there anything else you were looking for today?"

"I think that should satisfy me for a few weeks now. Thank you." Narcissa Malfoy pulled a lock of silky hair behind her ear.

Hermione walked the books back to the register to bag them.

"Shall I put these on the family account, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes, dear. Thank you."

"And I have the pre-order ledger here," Hermione said, pulling a notepad from the bottom drawer. "I will list you for the McHandry Werewolf book."

"Do you work both Saturday and Sunday, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up into Narcissa's clear eyes. They were bluer than Draco's grey, but just as intense.

"Yes, I do. Every weekend. Ten in the morning until six at night." She finished writing Narcissa's order on the list, and placed the notepad back in the bottom drawer.

"And with a Ministry job on the weekdays? You must keep yourself very busy," Narcissa said. She hadn't taken her eyes off Hermione. She began to wonder if she had ink on her face.

"I- Yes, I do. I suppose I've always kept busy." Hermione had the bag ready to hand to Narcissa, but she didn't want to seem like she was dismissing her in the middle of a conversation.

"It must be very hard for you and Mr. Weasley to see each other, with you both having such different schedules." Narcissa's eyes flickered. Hermione couldn't blink.

"I-I guess so. Harry and I do miss him while he's away, but Ron is accomplishing so much for himself in Ireland." Hermione swallowed.

"Do you get to visit him much?" Narcissa twitched her head to the side, examining her.

"Ron?" Hermione felt like there was an answer she was supposed to be giving. "No, I haven't made it out to Ireland yet." And suddenly it became clear. Miss Granger visits her beloved in Ireland every weekend. Narcissa was digging. For whatever reason. Hermione added, "I believe Ron keeps himself... quite busy as well."

Narcissa's lips twitched. "I see." She took a breath. "Well, I thank you very much for your assistance today Miss Granger."

"Not at all." Hermione handed Narcissa the bag. There was something behind her eyes, some sort of approval. "We hope to see you at Cornerstone again very soon, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa's delicate fingers took the bag. "Please, dear, call me Narcissa." She smiled at her. Hermione blinked.

Narcissa turned and glided out, not making a sound.

~*~

That afternoon Morty came downstairs as she was closing up. He was a tall and thin man with a grey mustache that twitched as he talked. Hermione thought he was just the loveliest gentleman.

"Good evening, Morty," she chirped.

"Miss Granger, you are to take the afternoon off tomorrow."

A book slipped from her hands as she was filing it. "I'm sorry?" She turned to look at Morty.

"I received this note this afternoon." He pulled a thick parchment paper from his breast pocket. "It requests that you be given the afternoon off. And I couldn't agree more."

"I- I still don't understand," Hermione said. Was she being let go?

"And a note for you arrived with it." Morty pulled an envelope from his pocket that perfectly matched the parchment he had. It had a slanted and even cursive on the front.

Miss Hermione Granger
c/o Mortimer Hindes
Cornerstone Books
Horizont Alley & Diagon Alley

Hermione opened the thick envelope and found matching script on the note.

Dear Miss Granger,

Please do me the honor of sitting down to afternoon tea with me tomorrow. I would greatly love your company. I have asked Mr. Hindes to cover the shop for you.

Yours,

Narcissa Malfoy

Hermione reread the note four times. She was torn between shock that Narcissa would be bold enough to ask a business owner to alter his schedule for her, and terror that she would be sitting down to tea with Narcissa Malfoy tomorrow. The terror was winning.

"I had no idea you were such close friends with Mrs. Malfoy. She's been a loyal customer for years now." Morty took off his glasses to clean them.

"N-no I'm not." Hermione folded up the note. "We are merely acquaintances."

"Well, that's definitely a good acquaintance to have."

"I suppose so."

Hermione headed to Eeylops Owl Emporium after work to send a response to Narcissa Malfoy. By the time she'd arrived home, a grand grey owl was pecking at her glass. She would be sitting down to tea at Malfoy Manor at 4PM tomorrow.