When Hermione returned to their shared office twenty minutes later, it was to find Malfoy frantically pacing back and forth, a furious scowl contorting his features. Hermione groaned inwardly, dreading having to deal with another one of his mood swings. She considered whether she should just vacate the premises before his inevitable temper tantrum.

Dealing with Kingsley's annoyance at her skipping work seemed a lot more inviting than dealing with Malfoy when he was like this. She realised it was too late when he span to face her, apparently having heard her enter the room. Hermione cursed her rotten luck.

"Nice lunch Granger?" he asked, his tone sickly sweet. She surveyed him warily as she stepped into the room softly, afraid that the slightest movement might set him off. She set her takeaway coffee cup down on the desk, avoiding his gaze, which was fixed on her like a hawk watching its prey.

"Yes, thank you." She responded, keeping her voice forcibly even. "How was yours?" She enquired politely, risking a glance up at him.

His grey eyes were stormy and fixed on her, looking for the slightest falter. Hermione gulped. The way he was staring at her was very unnerving.

"So, who was the little desperado you were sat with?" Malfoy replied, his voice smooth and equally forced and polite.

"That would be Brian." Hermione kept her tone light, confused as to why he was asking her this and worried about where this was going.

"And how much exactly did you pay him to sit with you?" Malfoy asked snidely.

Hermione turned away from him quickly so he wouldn't see the hurt register in her expression, closed her eyes and counted to five. "I didn't pay him, Malfoy." She sighed, trying to stay calm, "And please, can we not do this? Let's just get back to work."

"Humph, you really expect me to believe that?" Malfoy retorted, "As though anyone would sit with you out of choice. He must be getting something out of it, perhaps a sexual favour."

Hermione shook with rage at what he was suggesting, rising to the insult and rounding on him.

"What, are you upset that I so easily replaced you?" she asked with mock sympathy. "Honestly Malfoy, anyone would think you were jealous!" She spat.

Malfoy's expression didn't shift. "Jealous of what, spotty-swotty? I don't need to get some from some frizzy-haired muggleborn, I have my own infinitely better looking women to do that for me. I'm not desperate enough to stoop that low, as some people seem to be."

Hermione felt like screaming in his face. She turned away from him again and picked up the stack of notes. She began to meticulously organise it in order to quiet her rage. You're an adult now, Hermione, she reminded herself. This isn't Hogwarts. Overgrown schoolboys can't get to you.

In a more controlled tone, she asked, "Tell me, Malfoy, what exactly is your problem? Because you can't expect me to believe you're this angry just because I wasn't sitting by myself at lunch."

"I'll tell you what my problem is." Malfoy growled. He walked round the table, so he was in front of her and she had to look him in his cold grey eyes. "My problem is, you don't trust me, Granger, do you?" Malfoy demanded of her. His mouth was set in a hard line, his teeth clenched in anger. Hermione didn't respond. She didn't know where he was taking this, and decided the best response was to remain silent.

"You're not even denying it." He continued, "How am I supposed to work with someone who doesn't even trust me?" He seethed.

"Tell me, Malfoy, just how am I supposed to trust you?" Hermione responded, keeping her voice as level as she could, "What evidence have I ever been given that you are someone who I should trust?"

Malfoy advanced towards her, until he was standing right in front of her and directing the full force of his gaze on her. Hermione shrank back without even realising it.

"Maybe the fact that the Minister for Magic trusts me with something this important should give you an idea." Malfoy spat.

"Minister's have made mistakes before." Hermione shrugged, remembering Cornelius Fudge. "Kingsley doesn't know you like I do."

"On the contrary, Granger," Malfoy responded, "You know nothing about me."

"Malfoy, how am I supposed to trust someone who bears the mark of Voldemort on their arm?" Hermione snapped. "Especially with something like this. I saw you clutching it in Kingsley's office. You feel the dark lord's apprentice calling his loyal death eaters to him, don't you?"

Malfoy's set expression cracked for just a second, enough for Hermione to see shock register on his face. Then he pulled his mask back into place. "But I'm not one of them." He told her. Then the rage crept back into his expression. "I'm done. I can't work with you. I'll tell Kingsley I'm not doing this. I'm not working with someone who doesn't trust me. Goodbye Granger." With that, Malfoy stormed out, leaving Hermione alone in the office.

She sighed deeply, her heart heavy, and sat down at the nearest desk, spreading the paperwork out in front of her. It looked like she was once again, saving the wizarding world by herself.

Hermione worked late into the evening, her mind running over her fierce argument with Malfoy, despite her attempts to distract herself. It gave her an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Around 10 o'clock at night, she finally threw the towel in and went home to her lonely apartment, to lie awake in bed. She felt most uneasy as she wondered what Malfoy would do. She knew him well enough to know she hadn't seen the last of him.

The next day she entered the office to find Malfoy already in there, seated on a desk, apparently waiting for her. The dark bags under his eyes told her that he too had not benefitted from a good night's sleep. This knowledge improved Hermione's mood immensely. He appraised her as she entered.

Hermione waited for him to speak, and explain his miraculous reappearance but he simply stared at her defiantly.

Finally she broke the silence, curiosity driving her to enquire superciliously, "Come crawling back, have you?"

Malfoy chuckled darkly, and Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to not be working with me any longer?"

"Granger, I've made a decsison." Malfoy disregarded her question entirely. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. His hair was softer than usual, she noticed, falling across his forehead. He must've cut back on the gel she noticed with surprise, and a little glee. Her gaze fell to his mouth, which was set in a thin line, without the hint of mirth and amused arrogance which usually hung about his features.

"What kind of decision?" Hermione asked warily.

"I'm going to get my dark mark removed." Malfoy responded, his voice deadly serious.

Hermione stared at him for a long moment attempting to figure out whether or not he was joking. Then she spluttered out laughing. Malfoy watched her laugh impassively, not a flicker of amusement on his face. A wrinkle of irritation creased his brow, and Hermione's laughter ground to a halt.

"Wait, are you actually serious?" she asked. Malfoy nodded wordlessly.

"Malfoy, don't be ridiculous. That kind of magic isn't even possible." When he opened his mouth, apparently to argue that it was, in fact, possible, Hermione cut over him without waiting to hear his response, "And even if it was possible, it would be incredibly dangerous, and there's no way you would be allowed to go through with it." She said haughtily.

"Oh please, as though you care Granger, "Malfoy replied snottily, "We both know you don't. I thought I told you to drop the Saint Granger act. It makes me very angry."

"Alright, alright, Malfoy," Hermione raised her hands in surrender, "But it's going to be pretty difficult for me to bring down the second dark lord if my partner goes and gets himself killed." Hermione berated him, "And anyway, getting it removed is supposed to be impossible. The spell is designed to be unremovable."

"I have contacts, Granger," Malfoy responded, his tone condescending,"Who have informed me of successful removals of the dark mark. And the person in question is still alive. It will be perfectly safe." He concluded. "Well, mostly safe." He added as an afterthought.

Hermione stared at him in horror. "Malfoy, tell me you're not being serious?" She beseeched him, "This is by far the most idiotic idea I've ever heard. And I know Fred and George Weasley, so that is saying something. Why on earth would you risk your life to get your dark mark removed? There's no need for you to do this."

"Would you ever fully trust me if I still have it?" Malfoy demanded.

"I-" Hermione was caught off guard, and hesitated a moment too long.

Malfoy's face was determined. "Exactly." He said decisively, "I'm getting it removed and that's end of story." Without any warning, he grabbed her arm, and before Hermione even had a chance to process what was happening, he had apparated them away.