Sapere Aude Professor Malfoy

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41723757.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley,
Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Neville
Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott, Narcissa
Black Malfoy, Minerva McGonagall
Additional Tags: Hogwarts, Hogwarts Library, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn,
Angst, Unrequited Love, Daydreaming, Sexual Fantasy, Oral Sex, Past
Torture, Ballroom Dancing, Obliviate | Memory Charm (Harry Potter),
Legilimens Draco Malfoy, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Occlumency
(Harry Potter), Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draco Malfoy Speaks
French, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Minor Original
Character(s)
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-09-15 Completed: 2022-10-10 Words: 65,222 Chapters:
36/36
 Sapere Aude Professor Malfoy
by aCanadianMuggle

Summary

Professor Malfoy has been teaching at Hogwarts for almost a decade when his life is
upended. He has always been grateful to Harry Potter for keeping his secrets from the war but
his resolve is tested when Hermione reappears.

Works within canon but ignores the epilogue & cursed child.
 Prologue
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

May 4th, 1998

Draco sat crosslegged in his Azkaban cell awaiting trial. His body ached and throbbed from
the battle. She’d been magnificent, hurling hexes the whole way. A slight shiver passed over
his arms and his thoughts wandered. The Dark Lord had lost at Hogwarts. Thanks to Harry
Potter and his friends. Draco began to sort through his memories of the last two years,
shelving, reorganizing and getting ready for whatever fate the victorious would give him.
Every wall inside his mind was glowing red, oozing on the edges. As an accomplished
occlumens he should be able to bury the memories he needed to - he just had to concentrate.
He forced his brain, trying to trick it into again burying that which he needed it to. The
shouting outside the cell was distracting.

Let them shout. Draco closed his eyes, building walls, filing the memories away. Burying
them. Even as he pushed the thoughts rushed out as though he’d stacked a pile of paper
together and then thrown it up like a handful of leaves. He couldn’t figure out what was
wrong. It had worked yesterday. He tried to fall through himself so he could organize.
Nothing was where it belonged.

The riotous noise outside of his cell kept getting louder. Closer. Then right outside.

Into his cell stepped the boy who had lived. Twice.

"What are you doing here Potter? Come to gloat?" A sneer creased his face staring up into
Harry's eyes.

Harry started. Then stared down at Draco. A turn.

Muffiato.

Then sat down across from Malfoy.

"I know."

Draco closed his eyes again. "No you don't Potter." Draco was so tired. There almost hadn't
been a hint of a sneer in his voice.

"No. Draco. I know. Severus gave me his memories."

Draco's eyes popped open. No.

"Draco, I know what you did for me. For... Hermione."

Draco pushed himself away from Harry with his heels until he could feel the wall of the cell
behind himself. He leaned his head back.

"You can't tell her. You can't, Potter."

Harry drew in a quick breath. "Why?"

"She loves Weasley. I saw them in the Great Hall... afterwards." Draco could feel his heart
beating frantically.

Harry looked at Draco and Draco could feel himself being measured. Measured against his
memories. Measured against his actions. Measured against the losses they'd all suffered.
Measured against his friendships.

Harry sighed. "Your mother saved my life. Did you know that?"

Draco grimaced. "I did not - and it doesn't change anything."

"I think we could be friends."

Draco glared across the cell at Harry.

"I really do. You put your whole life on the line to help me. To defeat Voldemort." Draco
couldn't help the shiver that went through him hearing Harry say the name so casually.
"Unlike me, however, you were raised to support him. Snape joined for himself before he
ever switched sides. You switched sides before you even took the dark mark."

"Stop." Forceful.

"No. I will be helping you out of this Malfoy, whether you like it or not."

"No."

Harry deflated. "You're an occlumens but I can share my memories of your actions."

"I'll say they're all lies. That Snape was mistaken. That your memories were corrupted.
They'll believe me. I'm a Death Eater. I belong here - in Azkaban." Draco felt breathless.
Dizzy. This wasn't going according to plan. "I'm supposed to be kissed by a Dementor. It'll all
be over soon. I’ll make sure I never have to say anything." He closed his eyes. "I don't want
to live with this." A whisper.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What could I do to convince you to leave here with me today?"
The question hung in the air. "Your mother is waiting at the manor for you. She's already
been pardoned. I owe her a life debt and she's asked for you. I would be here without her
asking - because, again, I've seen Snape's memories. I will not allow them to take you away
from your mother. I will not allow you to be kissed by a Dementor. You will be leaving here.
I'm just asking what your price will be."

Draco waited. Staring into Harry's eyes and seeing a reflection of his own face. "She can
never know."
 Harry paused.

Draco continued. "She can't know. It would make her question. It would make her wonder.
She never lets anything go, Potter. She ... " his throat closed. His voice deepened. "I don't
want to stand in the way of her happiness. Even if it is with Weasley." His eyes swam. He
wouldn't cry.

Harry stared at Draco.

Draco continued "She survived the war, Potter. That's all I wanted."

"Fine." Harry sighed. "But I think it's a mistake. We will need to get our story straight for the
Wizengamot. We will need to find a reason you switched sides without bringing that in. I
suggest that your first order was to kill Dumbledore and you couldn't reconcile that with
pureblood supremacy."

Draco nodded tersely.

"Good. Stand up. We are leaving now."

"Must be nice to be the chosen one, Potter, and take any prisoner you'd like." A hint of a
sneer.

"That's right mate. I'm going to capitalize on my current fame and get you out of here."

"Mate?" Draco spat out.

An arm was slung across Draco's shoulders. "Your mother saved my life and with the
memories I've seen... we are going to be friends. I've decided." A sly grin spread across
Harry's face as he led Draco towards the door. "Let's go get your wand. Hawthorn, wasn’t it?”

Chapter End Notes

This is the list of update notes. I’m always looking for polishing in this story, so below
are updates (dates and chapters) that I’ve fiddled with. If this is your first time through,
feel free to ignore this, if not - well - at least you’ll know where I’ve messed with it.

I’m not tracking changes I’ve made for Britpicking (though please comment so I can
catch them), grammar or spelling, just story.
-aCanadianMuggle

23Oct22 - 17. Expecto Patronum

 The Interview

June, 2002

Draco stared up at Hogwarts castle through a curtain of rain. A briefcase in one hand and an
umbrella in the other, his wand tucked away up his sleeve. It was difficult to look at the
battlements and not see the scars left after the Battle of Hogwarts. Many of the students safe
behind the walls had been there before the battle - sent away as their parents, older siblings,
relatives, teachers and friends fought and died within. But Draco was here because of his
friend, Harry Potter. Potter, who had kept him from Azkaban prison with the other death
eaters. Harry Potter, who had defended him in the Daily Prophet for nearly a year. Harry
Potter, who vouched for him to McGonagall and had gotten him this interview. Draco felt
more than a sense of kinship to Snape at this moment - how he must have felt coming back to
Hogwarts with the support of Dumbledore.

A short exhalation and Draco took the steps up to the main doors quickly and found himself
in the great hall. Shifting from one foot to another in unease he took off his overcoat, stowed
it in the briefcase and started towards the headmistress' office. McGonagall would be waiting
for him.

Facing the gargoyle on the seventh floor and quietly choking out the password of "sugar
quills" took its own measure of courage. Passing the places where friends and foes alike had
fallen, as well as the corridor to the room of requirement had sent his thoughts scattering
about him. The sole group of students he'd seen - Hufflepuffs of all things - had gasped to see
him and run - run - in the opposite direction. Was he fooling himself by thinking he could
teach here? But Potter had gotten him this interview. He'd helped Draco with preparing his
references from both his university education and his potions mastery at the Sorbonne.

The reference from Professor Laurent from the Sorbonne had been remarkably easy to get in
comparison to those from Oxford. He'd finally simply told his professors that he would like
to teach and requested a reference for that, simply omitting the part where they'd be contacted
by a magical institution - so long as that institution could see past his history.

McGonagall was seated behind her desk and her eyes flicked up as he entered.

"Good afternoon Mr. Malfoy."

"Good afternoon Headmistress" said Malfoy. There was a long pause as McGonagall swept
her eyes across his form. "May I be seated?"

"Of course, Malfoy. When Potter insisted that I see you for this interview I was not certain
that you would come." She pressed her lips together. "Malfoy, are you certain that you
understand what you are asking for? The parents will complain, but they would complain
about any choice I made. Potter trusts you, and that would be good enough for me except I
remember how you treated muggleborn and halfblood students when you were here in
school." A long pause. Then a sigh. "Take a biscuit, Malfoy." She pushed the tin across the
desk towards him.
Draco held out a hand towards the tin, then hesitated.

"I haven't poisoned them, Malfoy." She stared at him over her glasses. "If we are going to
have this conversation it will not be with you and your empty stomach. I can hear it growling
from here."

Draco took a biscuit. Then a bite. Then another.

"Headmistress, I ... I ... " Draco couldn't quite get the words out. "I ... completed both a
Bachelor's and Master's degree in Chemistry from Oxford while getting my potions mastery. I
intend to continue at Oxford in the summers to complete my PhD in Theoretical Chemistry. I
... work ... study ... live with muggles for months at a time. Never breaking the statute of
secrecy and learning about their world. They ... are fascinating." His voice began to waver. "I
can tell you that the prejudices I held as a young student here were wrong. Muggles... are
brilliant. I want to find bridges within their science and our magic." Quietly now. "My
relationships with students will be based on their aptitudes and needs ... not ... blood status."
He took another bite of his biscuit. Staring down into his hands. "Please... headmistress... this
castle seems to be the only place for renounced death eaters to find a fresh start. I'd like one,
though I know I don't deserve it." He looked up through fringe and lashes at the formidable
witch across the desk.

The portraits of former headmasters whispered behind him, too softly for him to make out
what they were saying.

McGonagall had reclined in her chair, tenting her fingers in front of her. "Potter has told me
you can produce a corporeal patronus. From what Shaklebolt told me you used it to defend
the lake side of the castle during the battle. I'd like to see it."

Malfoy swallowed, and pulled his wand out. "You won't tell anyone what it is, will you
Headmistress?"

A nod.

Expecto Patronum

His patronus slipped out of the end of his wand and began swimming about the room.

"Malfoy, is that..."

"Yes," he whispered.

"All this time?"

"Always."

"You start the first of September."

 Going Home

July 24, 2009 - Sydney, Australia

Hermione sipped coffee and bundled up against the winter's chill as she gazed into a bright
and sunny morning in Sydney's harbour district. A quick trip during winter break was exactly
what she and Rose needed. She looked across the hotel room, into the second bed and smiled
as she contemplated the bushy head just peeking out of the sheets. Rose always looked so
peaceful when sleeping, rather than the incessant questions that tumbled out of her mouth
every waking moment of the day. She snorted slightly and reminded herself for the
thousandth time that she had asked far more questions of her parents at eleven than Rose ever
did.

Her parents. A bolt of anxiety passed through her quickly and left just as fast. The grief
counsellor she'd seen had been right. Never forgotten - but the sharp edges of her pain had
smoothed over the years. At least she'd had a chance to reconnect with them before they'd
died. Rose had been able to see a regular therapist - Hermione had had to find a mindhealer
because of the complex emotions she'd felt by saving them from the war but losing them in a
car crash only a few years later. The memory charms had been permanent. Wendell and
Monica Wilkins, though, had been thrilled to discover that their "cousin" Hermione had also
immigrated to Australia. The surprise on Hermione's face when she'd discovered that Monica
was pregnant and expecting had been far too real. Rose Jennifer Wilkins had been born only
a month after the Battle of Hogwarts. Knowing where her parents were and with a new baby
sister to watch grow up, Hermione had made the difficult decision to remain with her parents
in Australia - a decision that had fractured her relationship with Ron. Ron would never leave
England, his family, and his mother - especially after losing Fred so recently. He had raged
but settled after a few months. That he had found new love and had started a family right
away with Pansy Parkinson had been shocking.

Hermione was pretty sure they have five children now. Five. One was enough for her while
on her own. Children were such wonderful things but incredibly difficult to raise on your
own, far away from help and friends.

"Mione, you don't know what the Slytherins did in that castle while we were out hunting
horcruxes," he'd explained. "They found ways around the curses they were forced to use and
kept the Carrows in the dark about the food and supplies they were smuggling in to the Room
of Requirement. You should come visit. You'll love her." Hermione's mouth thinned slightly.
Ron and Pansy had five children and lived in the Burrow. All the other Weasleys had moved
out and Molly used them as a base of operations to visit and spoil her grandchildren. Though
she'd been able to go back to England a few times during the first few years in Australia,
Rose didn't like to leave and after their parents' deaths had clung to Hermione all the more. A
decade of excuses and stalling had led her here. Almost no one in Australia connected
Hermione Wilkins with Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio.

Even better that they didn't recognize her. Perhaps no one would recognize her when she
returned to England. She barely recognized herself now. She had become Rose's guardian
halfway through uni at Western Australia in Perth, and it had taken her six years to finish the
last two. Eight years to finish a four year degree. She snorted. She'd always hated publicity.

Harry had been even more difficult to understand. She'd left the country the day after the
battle to head to Australia and find her parents. Harry had gone to visit with Narcissa. Then
the letter the next day from Harry casually telling her about his new friend, Draco. Hermione
hadn't been sure she'd read the words correctly in the first place. She wasn't sure that Harry
had every even used Malfoy's first name before. Every letter thereafter had a mention of his
friend. Having him over for dinner. That he'd started working at Hogwarts of all places. How
Harry had quit being an Auror to teach as well. About long walks down to the Three
Broomsticks and how Malfoy was helping Harry with his renovations on the family home in
Hogsmead.

She shook her head and stared down into the bottom of her coffee cup. She'd have to wake
Rose soon or the girl would sleep through breakfast.

Hermione turned her head back to the window as she heard a hard rapping against the
balcony door. There was an owl. A Hogwarts owl.

A shudder of fear.

Could she do it? Could she send Rose into that castle? Knowing what she did about the
dangers that could be lurking down every corridor?
 Oxford

August 29, 2009

Draco opened his trunk with a self-satisfied smile to add the last few items. The summer term
at Jesus College at Oxford was always so diverse. Each two-week session was well attended
and students were specifically asking for him as they enrolled. Though the weather was hot
and sticky a few well-placed cooling charms in his office and room always kept him
reasonably cool. The sunlight was pouring in through the window and across the floor. Time
to return to Hogwarts. Every year since starting his teaching career at Hogwarts he'd returned
to Oxford each summer while working on his doctorate. He carefully folded the gown and
hood, patting and smoothing them, wondering again at the similarities between these robes
and his wizarding ones. He chucked to himself. He'd graduated just this July - perhaps he
would wear these ones to the opening feast at Hogwarts and confuse the older students. He
pressed down on the lid until it clicked and, after checking that the door behind him was still
shut, quickly cast a lightening spell. It wouldn't do to make the trunk too light - he'd made
that mistake his first year as an undergraduate - but at least light enough that once he left the
cooling charms he wouldn't be boiling on the way to the train station.

Just as he was lashing his bag onto the top of the trunk there was a sharp knock at the door.
"Come in!" Draco grunted.

Martina - Dr. Wallace he reminded himself - opened the door and stepped through quickly.
"All set to go, Doctor Malfoy?" Her grin was infectious. "Ready to run back to that posh
school you always leave us for?"

"I hate to remind you, Martina, but we are at Oxford University, one of the poshest Unis in
England." He smirked back at her and checked the trunk's balance.

Martina laughed easily. "Whatever, you prat. We've got to go - I'm double parked!" She led
the way down the hallway, down the steps, out the Porter's Gate and onto the street where,
indeed, her car was double parked.

******

Martina had invited Draco out with her and her friends his first week at Oxford. He'd still
been raw from the Battle of Hogwarts and had intended to hide in his dorm room forever
when she had burst in and declared that he was coming out, whether he liked it or not, and
that aristocratic assholes who hide from the real world are a real problem. Her dusky skin,
bushy hair and know-it-all attitude had reminded him strongly of the witch who had saved
him from Azkaban. Brash, inquisitive and breathtakingly intelligent she'd shepherded him
into her friend group and forward throughout his education at Oxford.

It was at the end of his second week where she'd pulled him down into a kiss. He can still
remember the hurt that had flashed across her face as he'd raised his hands to her shoulders
and pulled away. She had looked up at him with more courage than Draco had every
displayed and said, with only a slight quiver in her voice, "I can tell you're a toff. Are you
only pulling away because your parents wouldn't approve?" Of course not. She'd narrowed
her eyes, staring deeply and waiting for an answer. "Martina, you are wonderful, but I ... I'm
already in love with someone else."

At that Martina had nodded before asking when Draco would bring "whatever wunderkind
had bagged him" to visit.

"She will never come here." Pain had rippled across him and he'd been a hair's breadth away
from a panic attack when Martina had grabbed him into a fierce hug and dragged him down
onto a bench. He had sobbed into her shoulder until he'd felt wrung out, drawing away and
then falling over himself to apologize.

Martina surprised him again. "Tell me about her." The words had tumbled out faster than
every before. About how they'd been at boarding school together. How he'd been an absolute
prat to her from day one, believing that his family and money made him better than her. How
she'd proven beyond any doubt that she was the brightest, most intelligent and fiercely kind
person in their entire school. How she'd beaten him in every class except for... he'd stumbled
a bit... Chemistry.

He could tell that she was digesting this. Martina herself was at Oxford on a full scholarship.
She'd told him so their first night out. She'd pushed and worked her entire life to get where
she'd gotten. A quiet question broke the silence between them. "Was she a charity student?"

Draco thought for a moment. "No. Her parents were able to pay for the school. But, most of
the people there were... toffs. She stood out. You... remind me of her... quite a lot actually.
But I ... can't get her out of my head. It's not you, Martina. It's me."

He could almost hear her brain ticking over before the next question came. "Do you think
she'll ever forgive you for being a prat?"

Prat, Martina? Try forgiving me for being tortured on my manor floor. Draco shook his head.

Martina nodded. "Unrequited love is the worst, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

The cool September evening had hovered over them as they sat, side by side, in the Pucey
Quad and staring up at the college's facade.

"At least I know you'll be ok being second in Chem here at Oxford." A bright grin shone
Draco's way before she bumped his shoulder with her fist and then dragged him back to the
pub.

******

"Earth to Draco! I said put your trunk in the boot!" Martina snapped her fingers in front of his
face. "I certainly can't lift it with all your textbooks in there!" Draco blinked away the
memories and mechanically lifted the trunk into the hatchback's boot. Thank Merlin she'd
already put the seat down before coming to get him. He readjusted his Jesus College Hoodie,
making sure his wand was hidden away up his sleeve and then popped open the passenger
side door.

"Thanks for taking me to the station, Martina."

"Really, Draco. You're doing me the favour. I was able to get out the door before Joey woke
up so Pierre was left to do all the childcare this morning."

"And my trunk isn't that heavy."

Martina snorted and darted a sharp glance his way.

"Truly! I got one of those new Kindles. It's amazing." Draco insisted.

Martina huffed a little at him. "For someone who didn't know how to use a microwave their
first year of uni you've come a long way."

It was a quick drive to the train station.

"Martina, you don't have to keep driving me. I could always take the bus."

Martina looked over at him with a shocked look on her face. "The bus? With the peasants?"
A laugh. "And how else would I drive one of my oldest friends crazy before he has to go
back to school? I still can't believe you left after our master's year. It's taken you forEVER to
get your doctorate. You could have finished with me and gone into the soulless corporate
world like me. We barely ever have time to hang out any more. If this is what it takes to get
fifteen minutes of one of my oldest friend's undivided attention during the summer hols that
is exactly what I'm going to do."

They pulled up to the train station and unloaded Draco's trunk onto the sidewalk.

Martina pulled him into a full-bodied hug. "Have a good year, Draco. Don't forget that you
promised to come stay with Pierre and me over the Christmas break."

Draco smiled down at her head. "I'd never forget. Make sure that Pierre is all ready for your
house to get taken over by toys again. They should start arriving around the first of
November."

Martina laughed and pushed him gently towards the station. "Hurry up or you'll miss your
train. Make sure to write you prat."

"You too." He stared after her affectionately as she jumped back in the car and manoeuvred
out of the drop off area.

Draco waved until the car was out of sight, then pulled his trunk behind him into the station.
This was going to be a great year.
 Hogwarts Castle

Harry sat less than patiently on a bench in downtown Hogsmead, staring apprehensively at
the apparation point. Draco was late. He was almost never late. So that meant that either his
train was late (possible, especially with British railways delivering him to Edinburgh and not
the Hogwarts Express) or someone had tipped him off that Hermione was coming back and
he'd run off. Harry had never been good at waiting. Ron would have been fine waiting, with
five young children at home (all highly magical and with twins who seemed to be ready to
give the memory of Fred and George a run for their Galleons) he would have been napping
within seconds. Hermione, and at this Harrys lips twisted upwards into a smile, would have
simply extracted a book from her expandable bag.

Harry glanced up and down the street, just in case Draco had decided to walk from Edinburgh
to Hogsmeade. The town was nearly the same as it'd been when Harry was a student at
Hogwarts. Small, charming, and with a higher-than-average number of sweet shops for the
number of citizens. Everyone was gearing up for the return of students. Honeyduke's had had
a giant delivery of sugar the day before. Off the Shelf Bookshop had run its final summer sale
and stocking all the latest in teen romances, romances that Filch hated and would be
confiscating as soon as he were able. Even the Three Broomsticks was getting a makeover.
Madame Rosmerta was standing outside and washing the walls with her wand. Noticing
Harry she raised one hand to wave. Harry waved back and then dragged his eyes back to the
apparition point. "Come on Draco," he thought, "hurry up!."

Perhaps he should just be glad that Ginny had been able to delay her return to the Hollyhead
Harpies by a day so she could watch the children tonight. He was so lucky. When Ginny had
first gotten pregnant with James he'd been on an Auror raid that had ended badly, with
scarring now marring his left chest and arm down to the wrist. Waking up in St. Mungo's had
been a painful experience. Made worse when Ginny arrived and punched him on his
uninjured side. "I'm pregnant you git! You can't be putting yourself in risky situations!" He'd
felt as though someone had rapped him upside the back of his head with a concussive spell.
Spinning and in an intense amount of pain he'd passed out again.

When he'd awoken, there was Draco. Long legs crossed over the end of the bed and a floating
stack of potions essays to be graded next to him a red ink quill scratching away in the silence.

"Where do the graded essays go?"

Draco started, staring at Harry over the tops of his rectangular glasses, then breaking out into
a wide grin. "The floor. The absolutely worst ones go further than that. Where would your
essays go, I wonder?"

Harry sighed "To the sewer system if Snape had had any say in the matter. I still can't believe
he set my essay in fourth year on fire."

Draco smirked. "You did say that powdered Moonstone worked as well as granulated." Draco
quickly stretched his arms over his head and wandlessly combined the stacks of potions
essays by his chair. Standing up gracefully he motioned to Harry. "I guess I should tell Ginny
you've survived. If she knows I kept that from her I'd be looking over my shoulders for hexes
for the rest of my days. That witch of yours is deadly, Potter. I just came to remind you that
you've promised that when you die I get to be the one to do it, and it should be from far too
much firewhiskey." His face smirked down at Harry. " Don't scare us like this Potter."

Harry raised a hand. "Wait." Draco paused, tilting his head to one side. "Ginny's pregnant.
What am I going to do?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Well, when a witch and a wizard love each other
vary much - as you bloody well know - it's a possibility you need to live with.
Congratulations, Potter." Another wicked grin. "Wait until you see what the Weaselette is
going to to when she realizes you shared her news. Can I be there for it?" His grin slowly
faded as he sat back down. "You don't look happy. Why aren't you happy, Potter?"

Harry felt the world spinning around him. "I have to quit."

"Quit what?" Came the response.

"The Aurors." It was so quiet in the hospital room.

"Why?"

"Draco - I need to be there. I need to be there as my child... my children... as they grow up. I
can't leave them." Harry breathed deeply and pushed his head back into the pillows.

Draco snorted. "You're seeing visions of cupboards under the stairs and horrendous muggles,
aren't you? Do you think the Weasleys would ever let something like that happen to a
Weasley kit? They'd have that baby bundled away before you could say garden gnome."

"But I wouldn't be there. I want to be a father."

"Like mine?" Harry glanced over at the serious face staring at him.

"No. Like how I imagine mine would have been, if not for." Harry gestured at his scar.

Draco leaned back in the chair again, raising his feet and crossing them on the foot of the
bed. "Mate, do I have a solution for you. That curse on the defense against the dark arts class
seems to still be going strong at Hogwarts. McGonagall would hire you. Far less money than
the Boy Who Lived's job with the Aurors, but you could live in Hogsmead, be a teacher at
Hogwarts and be home every night to tuck in however many half Weasel children Ginny sees
fit to let you have." A long pause. "I mean, if you could teach for two years in a row, that is. I
still can't believe that Atticus only lasted five months. The rest of us have had to cover his
classes this year. Still don't know how he managed to fit himself into that old lamp. I mean,
didn't you wonder why Ron moved to a position at George's joke shop after Kieran was
born?"

And it had been the solution.

Ginny still flew with the Harpies, taking time off for a few months each time they'd added to
their family, and Harry had been home changing diapers and enjoying every minute of it. The
fact that he was about to start his sixth year as the defense against the dark arts teacher was a
huge bonus. Children were starting to leave Hogwarts well and truly prepared to protect
themselves against the dark arts. Next year his first class would be looking to take on their
NEWTS. This would be the year to start truly testing their abilities.

*crack*

Harry's eyes jumped back to the apparition point.

Draco spun into existance. Trunk with a strapped on bag and... a stack of books. "Potter! Nice
of you to come down and walk me back up to the castle. Any chance you could hold these for
me while I shrink them? There was a line at the apparition point and I couldn't exactly shrink
down my books in front of muggles."

Harry hurried over and took the stack as Draco pulled his wand out of his sleeve.

"Your Inner Fish?" asked Harry.

"Yes, they've found some sort of new fossil in the arctic. The author is talking about all the
different ways people still have carryovers from earlier species. It's fascinating." A quick
wave of his wand and the books shrunk down to the size of a deck of playing cards and
Draco quickly added them to the outside of his overnight bag. A quick locomotor trunk and
they were off towards Hogwarts.

"So, Potter, have you decided between patronuses or salvia hexia for your sixth years?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Patronuses, they take more time to be able to cast successfully. It
gives them something to work on if they master hexes the rest of the year."

Draco smirked. "So I was right then."

Harry rolled his eyes at the sky. "You were right."

They walked in companiable silence for a few minutes down the path and into the forest
between Hogsmead and Hogwards before Draco finally broke. "Alright, Potter, what are you
doing picking me up in Hogsmeade? You never pick me up in Hogsmeade. We have a
routine. I come in on the Saturday before term, you make an excuse as to why you can't walk
with me because of the children -even though I haven't asked you to walk with me in the first
place - and I see you at the feast. You added a new child since last year. So, Potter, what's
wrong? Tell me you're not leaving the school. McGonagall will kill me. Finally found a
DADA teacher who won't get pulled underwater by the squid in the black lake or get sucked
into a mirror and..."

Harry cut him off. "Nothing like that."

Draco exhaled loudly and stopped in the middle of the path to the school. "So what is it then?
I refuse to take another step until you tell me." He drawled, every inch the aristocrat.
Harry looked at his friend. Tall, still slightly gangly and pointey, but with wide shoulders
from rowing crew and Quiddich. Shiny shoes, impeccably tailored pants and a bright green
Oxford hoodie. So stubborn. Harry took a deep breath in.

"Hermione is coming back to England."

Draco closed his eyes.

"Her... daughter... is starting Hogwarts this autumn."

Draco stopped breathing.

"And she's been hired to teach Ancient Runes. You know Babbling's been trying to retire for
years but finding someone who can teach runes is bloodly difficult."

Draco felt the world spin around him. With an air of practiced patience he sat cross legged,
head between his knees, eyes closed. A deep breath in. A deep breath out.

Harry was still talking.

Draco couldn't make out the words. He broke out in sweat. Tapping his fingers of his left
hand against his knee he forced himself to breath in for five. Tap the fingers of his right hand.
Out for five. In for five, out for five. The Dark Lord isn't here. No one is dying. Feel the
wind. Feel the branches and leaves beneath. Head between his knees. Deep in. Deep out.

He didn't know how long it took but eventually he croaked out. "Remind me again why
Occluding isn't a good idea any more?"

"Because with the amount you did during the war your mind is at risk of burning out and
leaving you a drooling vegetable in St. Mungo's."

"Right."

Only a few more minutes and Draco was able to open his eyes, looking at Harry who was
seated on Draco's trunk and waiting for him to come back.

"That took a while."

"Just because you have a ridiculous need to be constantly on the move doesn't mean that the
rest of the world is required to keep up." Replied Draco, slowly leveraging himself off the
ground. "Everything hurts now."

"The Cruciatus curse is a bitch." Harry replied, concerned.

"Very true." Draco said wryly. A long pause. "Is she in the castle now?"

"No. She decided to take the Hogwarts express. With Rose."

Draco chuckled softly. "Another flower." He turned to gaze back at the castle. "The
classroom for Ancient Runes is about as far from the dungeons as you can get."
Harry stared at him. "I guess. But Draco, don't you want..."

Draco whirled at him swiftly his eyes growing fierce. "Nothing about this year is going to be
about what I want. Absolutely nothing. She doesn't owe me anything, Potter. Do you
understand me?" He stalked towards his friend. "She deserves a life free of death eaters,
death threats and curses. That includes myself." Suddenly he grabbed Potter into a tight hug.
"Do you hear me? I will be ok. She will be amazing for she always is. Remember your
promise, Potter." Harry felt Draco release him and stared up into his silver eyes.

"I remember, Draco."

Draco nodded curtly. "Then I need to get back into the castle and start brewing potions. My
NEWT students going to be doing potion identification first class." Draco's eyes unfocussed
slightly. "Get home to Ginny. That daughter of yours is smarter and sneakier than James and
Albus combined." locomotor trunk "If you try and follow me right now I'll hex you."

Harry stood and watched Draco stalk towards the castle. With the sun setting behind the
turrets it made for an impressive sight, which he was sure that Draco could not appreciate
right at this moment.
 Diagon Alley

August 30, 2009

Hermione ducked slightly as she led Rose into Flourish and Blotts. She glaced down and
smiled slightly as the mouth of the young girl next to her slowly dropped open and her eyes
grew wider.

"Mimum - you weren't kidding, were you?" Rose gasped as she walked over to the shelves of
books.

"I wasn't. Do you want to browse while I find your textbooks and we can meet by the front
counter?" asked Hermione.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "How many extras can I get?"

"Three."

Rose countered with ten and they hotly debated back and forth before settling on five.

"Don't forget - you're going to have access to the Hogwarts library at school too. Concentrate
on novels, not non-fiction. Non-fiction they have a lot of in the library, but less of everything
else." Hermione's lips curved up in an indulgent smile as Rose dissapeared into the rows of
books. Rose loved to read too. The number of times they were finishing a series together and
Hermione got to read the book first Rose would be dancing around whatever chair she was in
waiting for her turn. A second bookmark in some of them had been the only solution, with
both getting to read a book at the same time.

Tearing her gaze away from where her daughter had disappeared she ran her eyes down the
list of first year textbooks. Many were the same as when she herself was a student at
Hogwarts. Standard book of spells Grade 1, A History of Magic, 1001 Magical Herbs and
Fungi, though Hermione had never gotten rid of her own books she still intended to buy Rose
her own copies. There was only one change to the reading list - Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenious Jigger (revised, 2007). Revised by whom she wondered as she walked into the
school section, Jigger had been dead for decades. The shelves were bulging with required
texts and Hermione grinned when she saw that The Monster Book of Monsters was still the
required text for Magical Creatures. Down the shelves, at the end, were the potions
textbooks. Next to Advanced Potions Making were the copies of the revised Jigger text. Her
heart nearly stopped as she read across the cover "revised by Potions Master D. Malfoy,
PhD." A woman with an armoad of Hogwarts textbooks and a child in tow looked over at
Hermione and chirped happily that the book was so much better now and continued on to the
counter.

Hermione cautiously opened the book. Instead of the text she'd come to memorize by the end
of her first year of potions this book was laid out with easy to follow instructions,
demonstrations of knife skills, explainations of the history and understandings of different
magical ingredients and well-laid out potions with space to write observations and aids for
memorization. She reached over without looking up from the book and took a second copy
off the shelf. Rose would have her own set of textbooks but this book required more reading.
She quickly gathered the other books on the list then moved up to the counter where Rose
could find her when she'd finished browsing.

There was a cozy familiarity to being in Flourish and Blotts with a stack of textbooks,
waiting by the counter and reading from the book at the top of the stack. The writing in this
book, though. The potions, the recipes, they were all Jigger, but the instructions, the
interesting factoids about the ingredients. Those spoke of a writer who was interested not
only in the product of these instructions but also the why and the how. An interested mind.
How different this book felt from the boy she'd known.

Interesting.

"Hermione!" Followed by a pouncing hug from a willowly blonde with radish earrings.

"Luna!" Hermione pulled away slightly while readjusting her stack of textbooks. "What are
you doing here? I thought you'd be up at Hogwarts!"

"Neville asked me to pick up some books for him, and I was in London anyways. Since
tomorrow is the first of September I'll be taking the express back to the castle. What have you
been doing? You have nargles all over you!" Luna batted around Hermione's head, narrowing
her eyes, nodding and then readjusting her cork necklace. "You'll need to tell me all about
Australia. I hear there's a wonderful colony of blibbering humdingers outside of Canberra, it's
supposed to be such a romantic place. I'd like to go during next summer, but it's so hard to get
Neville to leave the greenhouses then."

Rose shyly came up behind Luna. "Mimum I know you said five but I couldn't choose
between two of them. Can I use my pocket money to pay for the sixth... please?"

Luna turned around. "Why, who is this?"

Hermione gazed adoringly down at Rose. "Rose is technically my sister, but when our
parents died I adopted her. So she's my sister child." Rose blushed.

Luna looked pleased. "You'll have my husband for herbology. He's such a gentle soul and so
good with plants. Do you like gardening?"

Rose contemplated the question. "I don't have much experience with magical plants. But I do
like the cactuses I kept back home."

"An excellent answer!" Luna beamed. "I'm sure we are going to get on. You and Hermione
should come visit down at our cottage when you're at Hogwarts. I expect you'll be busy with
your friends and your house, but we do a dinner for all the other teachers and their families
the last Sunday every month except for June and we'd love to see the both of you."

"I'll be there, Luna. But who knows what Rose is going to get up to. I remember all the
scrapes I got into with my friends when I was at Hogwarts." Hermione smiled fondly. "We're
just on our way to the Apothecary and then to Fortescue's for lunch before getting everything
together for Rose's trunk. Would you like to join us?"

Luna gave a knowing smile. "No, I have other errands for the wracksprouts before I catch the
train tomorrow. But once you've gotten Rose settled with some of the other first years on
their way to Hogwarts you're welcome to join us in the teacher's carriage."

Hermione felt her breath catch. "Will... Professor Malfoy be there?"

"Never. He always catches the train up from Oxford after classes are finished there for the
summer. He's probably already in the potions room getting ready for the next school year."
Luna stared at Hermione expectantly.

"Then, sure. As long as that's ok with Rose?"

Both women turned their eyes at the eleven year old who had grown bored with their
conversation, sat down and started reading a book, oblivious to the rest of the bookshop.

"Have you seen him yet?" asked Luna.

"Who?"

"Draco. He's always such a great guest. He's excellent at party games."

Hermione grimaced and lowered her voice. "He tortured you in his family's dungeon for
months, Luna."

Luna patted Hermione's shoulder. "Not really, and he's apologized to me for what he had to
do. In any case, the war's been over for a long time and the Dark Lord lost. What's the point
of plodding over the same old hurts?"

Hermione swallowed.

Luna smiled brightly at Hermione. "See you tomorrow then?"

Hermione tried to smile back. "Tomorrow." Luna hugged Hermione again and danced out of
the store and into the bright sunlight.

******

Hermione and Rose had the books sent back to the Leaky Cauldron and walked through the
crowds of Diagon Alley. The ebb and flow of people swirled around them, almost pushing
them towards the wandmaker's shop. Just before they entered Hermione turned to Rose.
"Ollivander is... an eccentric and confusing wizard sometimes. But his wands are the best.
You may have to try quite a few before you find your wand. As I remember it took over
twenty to find my own." She pulled one arm across Rose's shoulders and used the other to
push open the heavy door.

"Miss... Granger.... " came the wheezing voice. "Ten and three quarter inches, vinewood with
a... dragon's heartstring core. And who is this?"
"This is Rose. She's going in to her first year of Hogwarts tomorrow, and will need a want to
suit." replied Hermione with pride.

Ollivander nodded. "Ah, but the wand chooses the witch, Miss Granger. We will see which
chooses young Miss Granger. Perhaps we can start here, with one nine and a half inches long,
beech with a phoenix feather. Rather bendy."

Rose gripped the wand, looking at Hermione for reasurrance. "Go on, Rose, give it a wave."

Rose moved the wand in a small circle. Sparks flew off the back and onto her robes. She
dropped the wand back onto the counter, using both hands to rub out the embers before they
burnt her new school robes.

Ollivander started. "No, not that one. But close. Perhaps..." he started for the shelves at the
back of the store and Rose cast a worried glance in Hermione's direction.

Hermione tried to be reassuring. "Ollivander is a great wand maker. We served in the war
together."

Rose whispered back "But what if a wand doesn't choose me?"

"There is a wand for every wizard. If there was a wand for the Dark Lord there will be a
wand for you."

Ollivander came back to the front of the store holding a box. "Veela feather, eleven inches,
rosewood."

When Rose took up this wand and gave it a tentative wave a small rainbow appeared in front
of her. She smiled brilliantly up at Mr. Ollivander.

******

Hermione and Rose came out of Ollivander's nine galleons lighter but with Rose aglow with
her new wand.

"Just the Apothacary left. Ready?" Rose nodded happily. They crossed the street and made
their way into the crowded apothacary, which was filled with returning students. Instead of
finding the store filled with students worryingly measuring out powdered unicorn horn and
orc tears students were simply picking up either a cauldron with scales inside of it under a
sign labelled first year, Hogwarts or simply going up to the counter to pay.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked the employee who was restocking mandrake leaves.

"Hogwarts? Right. So their potions master has a deal with this shop, if you're going you pay a
small fee and all the supplies are brought to Hogwarts for all your potions for the year, with
no left overs. It's a bit cheaper than buying all the supplies by themselves. First year?"

Hermione felt like she'd swallowed her tongue. She'd had this same idea in fifth year. Ron
had told her that wizarding traditions and rituals were important things and he could never
see something like that changing. Ever. Malfoy was a pureblood traditionalist. A lord. How,
no - why - had he changed it? This was not the time. She turned to Rose.

"Ready to pick out your cauldron?"

 Occlumency

September 1st, 2009, morning

Draco shivered as he took the steps down into the dungeon-level potions classroom. He
entered and nodded in satisfaction. He'd made many changes to potions classes over the last
few years. The latest was the addition of bunsen burners to the marble desks. No more
children falling into fires or failing to stoke the flames correctly. Every change had made it
easier for him to be in the dungeons without being haunted by Hermione. He'd spent the most
time around her within these four walls. It was hard for her to suddenly appear, sitting in the
supplies alcove. Hermione twirling her curls around her wand while reading. Hermione (he
closed his eyes) bending forward to add an ingredient. Shuddering, he ripped his eyes open
again. She'd be back in the castle by nightfall.

And he couldn't occlude.

Snape had been an excellent teacher.

"Occlumency will allow you to shut down your feelings and contain your memories. Only
with occlumency will you survive the coming war."

Bellatrix had been better. Because he was learning more while practising what he already
knew.

Voldemort had been the hardest teacher. Hiding inside of his own mind as the Dark Lord had
sauntered through his memories and poked at painful ones, trying to get him to react. Then
irreversibly shredding his mind just before the battle of Hogwarts while trying to slither out
every last piece of information about Harry, Dumbledore, Snape and... Hermione. He'd
managed to protect them all. Keeping the diadem away. Burying the memories of brewing
polyjuice for the order. Forcing every memory of Snape and their collusion under his nose
into dark corners. And then the manor…

Snape hadn't warned him that repeated torture under the cruciatus curse with directed
legilimency interrogation would shred one's mind, eventually making occlumency dangerous.
Idly, Draco wondered if he'd ever be able to safely occlude again. Perhaps he should schedule
a trip to that mindhealer Potter had recommended. Apparently having to share one's thoughts
with the Dark Lord was nearly as hard on the mind as not doing so.

Chuckling darkly to himself he made his way over to the NEWT level demonstration he was
setting up for class the following day. Only students with an exceeding expectations or
outstanding could find their way onto the rolls. Polyjuice, amortentia and hiccuping solution
were bubbling away under his watchful eye. A small flask of felis felicis held in a clamp for
the winner of the first day potions making contest. He had combined his two years of NEWT
level students into one class, and the winner’s choice of lucky day was always an interesting
one.
Draco paused next to the amortentia and wafted a section of the steam towards himself. There
it was. Just as it always was. Ancient paper, spearmint toothpaste and English rose with just a
hint of myrrh. Hermione. He’d first smelt amortentia near the beginning of fourth year, when
Snape had brewed it for his NEWT classes. Draco had wandered into potions, ready to ask
about how to brew an age potion that would get him over that stupid age line that
Dumbledore had drawn around the goblet of fire. As he’d entered he’d seen Snape looking
sorrowfully into the depths of the cauldron. It had only been for a moment because the
second that Snape had seen a student in the room, steel had fallen back over his features and
they were as calm and placid as they ever were.

“Professor, what were you smelling?”

Snape gazed back at him expressionless and replied: “Amortentia.”

“Isn’t that a love potion? Why are you smelling it?”

Snape languidly replied, “Because it gives off the smell of the person you love, or are
attracted to. Have you never wondered who it is that your soul desires?”

Draco had cautiously approached the cauldron, leaning over and taking a huge sniff. “Ancient
paper, spearmint, roses… and… something else.” Another sniff. “I don’t know. I can’t place
it.”

A slight smile curved Snape’s lips. “Perhaps you simply have to pay better attention.”

“What do you smell, professor?”

Snape’s face became impassable again. “Love.”

It was only that summer, on a date with a French heiress that his mother had set up that Draco
finally found out what that last smell was.

Claire had led him around her family’s garden, known for their roses and with them all in
bloom they’d spent ages identifying the different roses by smell alone. One would close their
eyes and be led to a bush, where they would have a bud brought to their nose. Claire had
taken the opportunity to kiss him several times when he was wrong and Draco was looking
forward to being quite wrong on this last bush. He’d already decided to respond with “daisy”,
hoping that Claire would kiss him again by way of punishment.

She’d pushed his hair behind his ear and pulled him down close to the bush when the scent
had floored him. English rose… and something else. His eyes flew open and he gaped at
Claire. “What is this?”

Claire laughed, her eyes lighting up. “I knew you’d like it. It’s so pretty, isn’t it?”

He stared down at the flower. It was a double rose. Dark pink on the inside, with a slow
gradient to almost white on the outside. Clustered together on the ends of branches. It was
four feet tall and bordered a bench in the garden. The smell… it was incredible. English Rose
with a hint of… myrrh. That was it. Myrrh.
Claire yammered on. “It’s one of mum’s favourites. She had the gardeners put in six of them
so that you can sit on the bench and be surrounded by them all summer.”

Draco stared at her. “What are they called?”

Claire looked up at him innocently, batting her eyes. “Gentle Hermione.”

It had almost felt as though a gong had gone off inside of him. He’d always noticed
Hermione before. One couldn’t help but do so. The person who had bested him time and time
again in classes. Who had hit him for being a prat about that blasted hippogryph. The only
reason Harry Potter was still on this side of the sunshine and continued to pull him out of
dangerous situations. Hermione.

He had no idea how he’d gotten back to the manor. His mother had been disappointed in
him. Apparently Claire had said he’d disappeared inside of himself after the rose garden and
was uninterested in another date. Draco was fine with this.

His thoughts hadn’t strayed far from her for the rest of the summer. He’d heard that Harry
Potter had been attacked by Dementors at his muggle summer home and been granted leave
to return to Hogwarts in the fall, magic in front of muggles notwithstanding.

The most confusing part of the summer had been questioning his own parents on what they
smelled when they smelled amortentia. His father had only replied with “galleons”. His
mother had smiled sadly and replied that Draco was what she smelled.

It was that summer that the Dark Lord had returned. He was in hiding with Pettigrew as a
servant. Draco felt unsteady as he had returned to Hogwarts that fall. If he was in love with
Hermione and she was with Harry Potter, what did that make them? Draco knew that
Hermione did not like him, let alone love him.

He’d gone to the prefect’s meeting and been internally thrilled to have been seated next to
Hermione. He’s spent an hour trying to get her attention. Finally resorting to sneering at her
as they’d left and questioning why they’d let such a little swot become a prefect. “What are
you going to do to rulebreakers, Granger, bore them to death?” At least she’d looked at him
before storming off down the train to go back to her boyfriend, with Ron trailing behind and
shooting nasty glances backwards.

Draco had regretted needling her the moment she’d stomped out of sight. He’d followed
behind, like a kite on a string, as she’d slammed closed the compartment door. It had taken
him a few moments to decide to look in, and by then Crabbe and Goyle had caught up to him.

“Just a minute lads,” he’d drawled. “Just have to make Potter’s life worse before we go back
to our compartment.” With that he’d stepped forward and jerked open the door. Every
occupant of the compartment had looked up at him, filling the doorway. He’d felt himself
hesitate a moment before Potter had stood up. He’d been seated next to Hermione, who had
rolled her eyes at his appearance.

“What?” he’d said aggressively.

At least Draco had had something on him.

“Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention,” he’d replied. “You see I, unlike you,
have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out
punishments.”

His arrogance had cost him with her.

Harry had responded with “Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.”

Then she’d laughed at him.

He could feel himself break a little as he bit back “Tell me, how does it feel to being second
best to Weasley, Potter?”

Then she’d finally said something to him. Possibly the first thing she’d said directly to him in
over a year.

“Shut up Malfoy.”

His head had filled with a buzzing. Not even hearing what he’d said back to her. It couldn’t
have been good because she’d rounded on him.

“Get out.”

Weasley was unconcerned. Potter was glaring and there was Hermione. Brilliant, baffling and
brave Hermione. At the centre of the chaos and looking at him with loathing. He’d smirked
and left. He’d gotten a reaction.

As an adult, looking back over his memory he felt a deep sense of shame. Watching himself
attack her for years in classes, putting down her looks and intelligence. Calling her
mudblood. Mudblood. Those that the Dark Lord was going to purge off the Earth.

It had taken him weeks to approach Snape. It was almost Hallowe’en when he’d finally
gathered up his courage and stayed behind after potions. He’d deliberately spilled his frog
eggs, the signal he’d set up with his godfather and Snape had eviscerated him for his
clumsiness and tasked him with cleaning cauldrons after class.

“Professor… godfather…”

Snape had cleared his throat. “If you wished to speak with me I’d appreciate it if you
wouldn’t waste my time with triflings or half sentences. Spit it out boy.”

“The Dark Lord will be coming for mudbloods, won’t he?”

Snape looked down his nose at Draco. “The Dark Lord has said it is his wish to do so, and we
would be wise not to oppose him.”

“All… mudbloods?”
Snape hesitated. “That is what he had expressed.”

Draco gathered up his courage. “I want to help you.”

“What do you mean by ‘you’?” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “I have only ever been the Dark
Lord’s faithful servant.”

“I don’t believe that.” His voice rose higher but softer. “I think you switched sides during the
last war. I think that whatever you did made the Order win. I can’t imagine that this won’t be
happening again now that the Dark Lord has returned. I want to help you take him down.”

“Why?”

At this Draco paused. “Because I…” no. Not yet. “Because I don’t think the mudbloods
shouldn’t be here.”

Snape rose off his stool and stalked towards Draco, who retreated until his back hit the wall.

Legilimens

And Draco was back in the garden, smelling the Gentle Hermione. No. Draco shut down the
memory. That was his and his alone. He drew it back into himself, like a turtle’s head into its
shell. Suddenly he was thinking of nothing but that Snape had missed a spot when shaving
that morning, down by his jaw. Next to his ear. There were three stray hairs pricked out
against the pale skin. Draco wondered if the same was true on the other side.

Snape lowered his wand.

“You’re a natural at occlumency. If you can continue this path and shield your mind you may
be of use yet.” A slight smile graced the potion master’s face. “I was quite a bit older before I
allowed love to guide my path. You will need to be steadfast. She won’t survive if you
proceed by half-measures.”

******

Draco had never given half measures. They’d both survived. Now she was coming back. It
was time to remind himself of why she would never consider him. He snorted to himself and
stepped towards the pensieve Snape had left to him after his death. A dose of her screams and
pleas would remind him of his place - or lack thereof - in her life.
 The Hogwarts Express

Hermione and Rose passed through the wall onto platform nine and three quarters together.
Their trunks rumbled on top of their trolley and their bags rested on top with well-placed
sticking charms. Rose’s eyes widened at the sight of the chugging engine and crowd of
children and parents jostling about it. Hermione was brought back to the moment where her
parents had first brought her through the barrier and her heart broke a little for Rose.

Now wasn’t the time to get sucked back into her memories. Now was the time to stoke that
sense of wonder.

“Teddy! It’s Teddy!” Rose shouted and raced off into the crowd.

Just down the platform Hermione caught sight of Andromeda Tonks and an oddly green-
headed boy standing next to her. Next to Teddy stood a tall, statuesque woman with long
silver hair with a daughter next to her that looked like a twin. Hermione waved “Victoire!
Fleur!” Both silver heads swivelled to stare at her then broke out into identical smiles.

Hermione navigated her overloaded trolley over to where Rose was standing, chatting
excitedly to Teddy and Victoire. If Hermione was correct, she thought, this would be Teddy’s
second year at Hogwarts, and Victoire’s first. Fleur rushed over and pulled her into a hug.

“I can not beeleeve you are here! C’est fantastique! Fleur, viens ici! Hermione, may I
introduce you to my daughter? Victoire, put out your hand!” With a well-placed jab to the
ribs, Fleur nudged her daughter forward.

“Pleasure to meet you Victoire! I won’t be teaching you this year, but if you have any interest
in Ancient Runes later…” It was only then that Hermione looked around and saw that many
of the other families and commuters had stopped and were staring at their little group. She
could just catch the edges of whispers.

Hermione nudged Rose. “Why don’t you stay with Victoire and Teddy and get yourselves set
up in a compartment? I’ll handle the trunks, then find the teacher’s car. Pleasure to see you
Fleur, Mrs. Tonks.” With a quick smile Hermione passed Rose her bag and pressed forward
again. She found the porter to leave their trunks with and stepped aboard the Hogwarts
Express.

Thankfully it was easy to find the teacher’s lounge on the train. It was still at the very front,
with large squishy armchairs all over and a table near the door to the rest of the train for the
prefect and head of house meetings that took place during the ride. She chose a squishy
burgundy chair that had a good view both out the window and of the door and dropped her
bag.

She collapsed into the chair and thanked each and every one of her lucky stars that Daily
Prophet reporters were banned from the Hogwarts platform. They’d been lucky in Diagon
Alley. A well placed ballcap and sunglasses, along with the fact she hadn’t been seen in
England for near a decade had kept them off the press’ radar. The crowd that had noticed that
Hermione Granger was back would be far less discreet than her friends had been these last
two weeks. Staying at muggle hotels outside of Diagon Alley, spending time at muggle
museums and only venturing in to magical London on the last few days to get Rose supplies
had been a wise choice.

She’d tried to explain to Rose why her sister/mom was well known in England, finally
resorting to simply getting her a book on the second wizarding war. Rose had been shocked,
and run through the thick book on the flight to England. Both by the fact that Hermione was
famous as well as by the fact that she had helped win a war. Sometime soon Hermione would
have to tell Rose about why their parents had been in Australia in the first place.

She’d read through it once but needed more information. She ignored the calaphony from the
platform and opened the book to her mark. Chapter seven: Traitors to the Dark Mark. As
she’d expected, this chapter had mostly revolved around Snape and his personal sacrifices for
Harry throughout his years at Hogwarts. Harry himself had been interviewed for this book,
one of the reasons that she’d bought it in the first place. For all the in-depth speculation and
fact about Snape’s contributions to the end of the war there was only one brief mention of
Malfoy.

“Malfoy was never truly part of Lord Voldemort’s army. He was placed in a bad position but
fought with courage. I trust him now more than Dumbledore ever trusted Snape.”

From there the rest of the chapter covered Narcissa Black Malfoy’s lie to Voldemort. The lie
that saved Harry Potter. The lie that had saved the House of Malfoy. Lucius had been taken to
Azkaban.

Between the final battle, his wife’s lie to Voldemort and what must have been a stressful year
of having Lord Voldemort as a houseguest he had died at St. Mungo’s within six months.
That meant that Malfoy was now Lord Malfoy. So what was he doing teaching of all things at
Hogwarts?

Hermione gritted her teeth. Occam’s razor would tell her that the simplest answer was
obviously the truth. But how was one to find out the answer without all the data?

A flurry of movement burst into the compartment. The rest of the teachers came in, chatting,
laughing and ready to give the coming school year their all. Hermione quickly made her
excuses and went to check on Rose. She found her under a mountain of sweets from the cart
and surrounded by friends. Unnoticed by Rose, Hermione backed away slowly. Rose
deserved a wonderful time on the train and suddenly having a teacher in the compartment
would have disrupted the children.

******

That evening Hermione was nearly hanging out the window watching Hogwarts castle
approach out of the sunset. She and Luna had played exploding snap for most of the ride and
answering quizzes in the Quibbler. As the engine rushed up to Hogsmead she saw Hagrid
standing on the platform with a lantern held above his head, ready to take the first year
students across the lakes by boat.
Hermione was just glad the weather was fair that evening, with a mild breeze. The first years
were in no danger of drowning in rainwater on the way to the castle. As the students boarded
their boats and thestral-drawn carriages the professors boarded the first carriage out of the
station and were on their way ahead of the first batch of children.

Luna knew where they were going, at least. She and Neville lived in a small cottage by the
greenhouses, but the rest of the professors lived in a dormitory very like the houses the
students would be assigned to. Hermione gazed around the common room, filled with
squishy chairs, cosy fireplaces and a small kitchenette available for professors to use and
wondered how on earth, during all their scrapes at Hogwarts as students, they’d never once
ended up in the professor’s area. Complete with tea pots and a full Italian espresso machine.

“Where’d the espresso machine come from?” Hermione wondered aloud.

Luna smiled at Hermione “From Draco, of course. Apparently he fell in love with them at
university and he simply brought one in and installed it before he even told Minerva it was
coming. The house elves had a field day with it. Did you know you can make drawings on
the milk? They’ve gotten so good with it that you can ask them for dragons and fairies and
they actually move as you drink them.”

That at least sounded more like the Malfoy she remembered from school.

“I’ll see you at the feast, yea? Neville needs me in the greenhouses. He always has such a
hard time with his dress robes. I’m pretty sure your rooms are down that hallway. See you at
the feast!” With a last hug Luna skipped back over to the door and slipped out.

Hermione cast another look around the professor’s common room and tentatively headed
down the corridor. Each room had a nameplate on it. H. Potter - for when Harry had to
supervise overnight. S. Trelawney. D. Malfoy. C. Binns. Before finally coming to the door
marked H. Granger. Hermione reached out a hand and turned the knob.

Unlike the little tower room she’d shared with five other girls in Gryffindor this opened up
into a small sitting room that had a bedroom and bathroom leading off of it. The bathroom
was amazing with a deep clawfoot tub in the centre.

Hermione took a moment to appreciate the house elves as she started to quickly unpack her
trunk, looking for her dress robes.

Coming down to the great hall was a bit like coming home. The house tables set down the
middle of the room, the high table for the professors. This time she headed for the high table,
headed towards Harry Potter himself, who seemed to be deep in conversation with Flitwick.

She’d nearly managed to sneak up to him unnoticed when Flitwick’s eyes lit up and he
squeaked out “Hermione!”

Harry’s head whipped around and his arms came up to hug her.

“Hermione! I can’t believe you’re here! We’re going to have such a great time this year!”
Harry looked older than the last time she’d seen him which, admittedly, had been almost six
years and two children ago. Harry gestured down at the seat next to him. “Please, sit down.”
He brought his face conspiratorially next to hers. “It makes the students nervous if we keep
standing up here.”

Hermione stifled a giggle and looked out at the Great Hall spread in front of them. Just as
she’d leaned back to ask Harry about his classes the doors creaked open and Hagrid led the
first years down the middle aisle and towards the front of the room, where McGonagall and
the sorting hat were waiting for them.

The rest of the teachers smiled politely through the Sorting Hat’s song while Hermione
caught Rose’s eye.

McGonagall lifted the hat, and stared at the first years. “When I call your name, please come
forward to be sorted! Andrew Johnson!” The roar from Slytherin house after Andrew was
sorted was deafening. “Althenia Whipplesnoot!” Until finally it was Rose’s turn.

“Rose Granger!” Rose looked so nervous and small climbing up the steps towards the sorting
hat while the rest of the student body began to murmur and point towards her famous sister.
“Ravenclaw!” Hermione clapped. Perhaps Rose wasn’t a Gryffindor, but it seemed to be a
safer house to belong to.

The Ravenclaw table erupted into cheers and dragged poor Rose into their centre. Harry
leaned over and whispered “I don’t think even James is going to get half that reception when
it’s finally his turn. The Ravenclaws were always so upset you hadn’t been sorted into their
house.”

Soon enough the final students had been sorted and the feast began. Hermione looked down
the long table of teachers and support staff. “Harry, where’s Malfoy? I thought he was
teaching here this year?”

Harry looked down the table and his eyebrows drew together with concern. “I don’t see him.
I’ll have to check after him. Might have lost track of time in the dungeons.” He refocused on
Hermione and grinned widely. “Tell me all about Australia.”

******

When the final plates had been cleared away Malfoy still hadn’t appeared. Harry gave her
one last hug and insisted that she come down the next morning for breakfast. Ginny hadn’t
seen her yet and was leaving by midday to go back to the Harpies and training for the
upcoming Quidditch year.

Harry walked her back to the professor’s lounge and dashed off as he might still have time to
put James and Albus to bed. Hermione walked into her room and fell asleep on top of the
covers.
 The Pensieve

After Harry left Hermione upstairs in the professor’s dorms he nearly sprinted downstairs to
the dungeons. Clearing the doorway he saw a tea tray sitting on Draco’s desk next to the
pensieve. The pensieve was glowing. Harry called out, hoping that Draco was just in the
supplies cupboard and would pop out of nowhere. No Draco. Harry quickly searched the
classroom and ended up back near the pensieve. He groaned and reached out a finger towards
the glowing surface.

The memories were bright, polished, as if they were brought out and remembered on a
regular basis. Harry groaned. He raced past Malfoy tripping Hermione and her stack of
books. The first time he'd called her mudblood, spitting the word out and watching her face
crumple. The terror on her face in Umbridge's office. Harry passed them all, turning down a
corner.

Then Harry found himself in Malfoy manor as it had been during the war. Dark, gloomy and
with a wreathing of evil in every room. A sound echoed from far away and down the
corridor. It was Ron. Harry had fallen just outside the drawing room. The door was open and
he could see Hermione lying on the ground covered over by Bellatrix. Hermione was
pleading to be let go. “Don’t hurt me any more. I don’t know what you want. I never took
anything from your vault.”

Malfoy stood over in a corner, his mother’s arms crossed and wand pointed discreetly at him.
Under the Imperious Curse.

Bellatrix cackled again. crucio Hermione writhed on the ground. Her screams being pulled
out of her by the full force of Bellatrix’s curse.

And there was Draco. Yelling at himself again. “Going to do anything this time? No? Fuck !”

Hermione screamed again, her cries filling the space then pulling back like a tide.

Harry cleared his throat and Draco turned. His eyes widened in surprise as the memory
evaporated around them.

******

Both men gasped as they arrived back at the desk.

Harry gazed over at Draco. “I’m more than half tempted to confiscate this memory from
you.”

Draco shrugged. “It wouldn’t change anything.”

Harry frowned. “No. No it wouldn’t. But don’t you think you’ve tortured yourself enough for
what happened? You haven’t even told her what you did in there. Wandless legilimency is
quite an impressive bit of magic. It kept Bellatrix busy and gave us a chance to get
upstairs…”

Draco cut him off with a gesture. “It will never be enough, Potter. I saw into her mind while
she was being tortured. Do you remember what she was thinking? Because quite a lot of it
was about what a horrible, nasty, selfish person I am. Next to screaming pain the thing she
was thinking of most was how much she hates me. ‘Anyone but him.’ Even the Dark Lord’s
torture after this was easier than hearing that. No, Potter. Je refuse.”

Draco collapsed over his desk, his forehead resting against the smooth marble. “I can’t not
love her, Potter.” He mumbled, trying not to think too hard. “I refuse to make this any harder
for her than it already is.” Draco turned his head to stare into Potter’s bottle-green eyes. “I
saw her on her way in, you know.”

Harry waited. He’d gotten so much better at waiting since starting to teach.

Draco continued, his voice softer. “She’s even more beautiful now. She’s steady. She’s saved
your life several times over and she hates me. How could she ever get over that? You barely
did and it’s only because you have a soft spot for hopeless causes.” Draco gave Harry a
heartbreaking smile and pushed himself up from his seat, starting the process of securing the
memory and putting the pensieve away. “I can’t forget that, Potter.”

Harry mentally started preparing himself for the argument they’d had several times before.
“Hermione can be a very forgiving person, Draco. No one knows this better than me. I’ve
pissed her off so many times over the last twenty years and she’s always been a good friend
to me, even when I wasn’t the best to her.”

Draco gave a cutting laugh. “Potter I was cruel to her and, by extension you, for years. Even
after I switched sides I specifically sought her out to be cruel so I could have those memories
ready to save my own skin and because it was the only way I could get her to look at me
without Snape breathing down my neck about exposing her. She should never forgive me.”
There was a deep silence.

Harry reached out across the silence with a simple. “You have changed, Draco.”

Draco bitterly chuckled and smirked back across to Harry. “It doesn’t matter, Potter. I can’t
occulde. I can’t imagine she’d like to be around my charming personality. I can take
breakfast early, spend more time grading essays and ask the house elves to bring tea down
every evening. I owe her, Potter. Without her I’d have kept going with my father’s guidance
and we both know where that could have led.”

Harry grimaced. “We are simply lucky that your mother knew you well enough to save us
both.”

Draco nodded curtly, pouring out the pensieve and securing it back in the locking cabinet.
“I’m truly the lucky one, Potter. I get to be around her this year.”

Harry hesitated. “Draco…”

“That Irish squib had it right, Potter. To never give all the heart. ‘He that made this knows all
of the cost,/For he gave all his heart and lost.’”

“Draco you either have to put down the torch or come clean to Hermione. This isn’t healthy.”
Harry started toying with the edge of the desk. “Hermione is a whole person. She isn’t perfect
and she’s flawed in her own way.”

Draco nodded. “I know, Potter. I’ll get over myself eventually.” He gave a sneer that was
undercut by the pain in his eyes. “Where did that daughter of hers get sorted into?”

“Ravenclaw.”

“That makes sense. I always figured the only reason the hat sorted Granger the way he did
was because you needed babysitting.”

Harry mimed a cuff at Draco’s shoulder. Draco then asked a wholly strange question. “Does
she look like Weasley?”

Harry blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, should I be expecting that distinctive shock of red hair tomorrow when the first
years show up or does she take more after Hermione?” Draco stared at Harry expectantly.

Harry broke into a wide grin. “She can’t look like Ron.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Let’s have it, Potter. Who’s the father? If not Weasley, who?”

“Wendell Wilkins.”

Draco blinked.

“Rose is Hermione’s sister, Draco. After her parents died in that car crash she adopted Rose.”

Draco blinked again. “I’m not sure what to say, Potter.”

Harry grinned at Draco’s confusion. “Had you thought all these years that…”

Draco gave Harry a soft smile. “Well, I had just assumed. I mean, they were so close before
the battle and afterwards…”

Harry stood up and started to push Draco out of the dungeons. “Come on, mate. You need to
get upstairs and to bed. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow. You’re getting a Granger in the
classroom and if she’s anything like her older sister you’re going to be answering so many
questions.” He ignored Draco’s protests and continued. “Don’t you think Ron would have
had her some of the time if he were the father? I mean, really, Draco. Just because you had a
family of ice people doesn’t mean the rest of us did.”
 Rose

Rose skidded to a halt and nearly fell over as the staircase she was on decided that they were
going to go in a different direction. She huffed out her cheeks and tapped her foot in
impatience. She was on her way to potions class and she couldn’t wait to start. The other girls
in Ravenclaw tower loved potions class. The older girls not only loved their NEWTS class
(Yelena had won the luck potion that morning) but at least half the seventh year girls would
also wax on about how good-looking he was.

Apparently there were multiple conversations every year over the first few weeks of class
where the girls would speculate on who, if anyone, Professor Malfoy was dating. Rose
snorted. At lunch not an hour before most of the student body was talking about the new
Professor Granger and dissecting her love life or, as Rose thought haughtily, her lack thereof.

Mimum hadn’t dated anyone for as long as Rose had known. Apparently she’d dated a friend
back during her Hogwarts years, and been on a date with a famous Quidditch player, but that
was about it. What her sister needed, Rose decided, dashing off the landing towards the door
she had to tickle to get through, was a date. Perhaps that would get her interested in her own
life rather than trying to organise Rose’s.

Four more stories down she rounded the corner into the potions room and stopped short,
causing the Hufflepuff boy behind her to crash into her, sending her cauldron bouncing across
the flagstones, landing at Professor Malfoy’s feet.

Professor Malfoy cocked one eyebrow at her. “Miss Granger, Mr. Pincher, thank you for
joining us. I can only assume that the staircases were having their usual first day of school
fun, but you should always leave for potions earlier than the rest of your classes.” A wan
smile graced his face. Professor Malfoy was tall, as Rose had expected. She scuttled forward
to grab her cauldron and set it up at an empty desk. He had broad shoulders and the strangest
silver-grey eyes. He looked rich, too. Standing in a fitted waistcoat and white coat.

The Professor moved towards the front of the classroom, speaking with practised good
humour. “As I was saying, you are here to learn the subtle science and exacting art of potion-
making. There is little wand-waving and few incantations in this class - some of you might
not truly believe that this is magic. There is beauty in the softly simmering cauldron with its
shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that can creep through human veins,
bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory,
even stopper death. None of these things will be possible, however, if you blow up your
cauldron or sniff too deeply of something that will send you to the hospital wing. These first
few weeks will be spent almost wholly on knife skills, the safety equipment that has been
installed for our use and ingredient identification.” Professor Malfoy smiled again at the
class. “The first thing that I would like you all to do is use 1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi to
start creating your own notebook of observations of the ingredients we will be using often
this first year. There are five tables set up with grasses, stones, fungi, herbs and magical
plants. You will identify and draw each one in your notebooks, using your textbook to guide
you in their identification. Use your eyes, nose, fingers but not the tongue. I have no desire
that anyone spend their first class with Madame Pomfrey and not with me.” A soft chuckle
came from the back row of Hufflepuffs. “Is everyone ready? Begin.”

Rose picked up her notebook and headed straight for the table covered in different types of
magical plants, determined to impress.

Twenty minutes before the end of class Rose had finished her notebook assignment and
approached Professor Malfoy to hand it in. He was currently trying to extract fluxweed from
around Jeremy’s hand. “I’m still not sure exactly how you were able to do this Mugword, but
at least it’s off now.” He gave the boy’s hand a last pat. “You may be able to finish this today.
I suggest sticking with the gemstones.” The Professor’s eyes landed on Rose.

“Ah. Miss Granger. I’m not surprised that you have finished first, with your older sister being
who she is.” He gave her a measured smile. “It is truly a pleasure to have you in class.”

Rose got excited. Most of her other teachers had also taught her older sister. But Professor
Malfoy was too young for that. “Did you know her when she was here in school?”

He hesitated, then replied softly. “I did indeed.”

Rose beamed. “Were you friends?”

“No, sadly not. More from my actions than hers. That does not mean that I couldn’t
appreciate the only person in school with higher marks than I, though I always beat her in
potions.” His eyes twinkled a bit. “If you’d like to get a leg up on the other students you
could always start the reading for the next class.” He waved his wand at the board and the
reading assignment appeared. Professor Malfoy nodded and walked off to rescue another
student from the fluxweed.

Rose chewed over this new information. Mimum had given her that book about the second
wizarding war. She’d thought that the Malfoys were like how Snape had been. Working with
the Order of the Phoenix to bring down Voldemort. But Mimum hadn’t talked about
Professor Malfoy at all.

Just as class was ending and the other students were either quickly dashing off their last
identifications or arranging time with friends to come back and complete their work
Professor Malfoy appeared next to her desk.

“I just wanted to say, Granger, that I’m sorry about your parents.” He looked pained. “I only
had occasion to meet them once and they seemed like wonderful people. I was sad to hear of
their passing.” He patted her shoulder as she stared at him, agape, and swept away into the
swirl of students at his desk.

Rose didn’t remember her parents. They’d died when she was only two. She’d been lucky
that Hermione had come to stay with them in Australia and had been designated her guardian.
It had taken another three years before the muggle government had certified the adoption and
by then Rose had been starting Kindergarten. And here was this adult who had known them
before they even left England.
Rose left class as though in a daze and headed straight for the library. Who was this
Professor, and how did Hermione fit into this?

It was there in the library many hours later that Hermione found her.

“I noticed you weren’t at dinner. You can’t skip meals and just live off of books. I know. I’ve
tried.” Hermione smiled down at Rose.

Rose looked back up at Hermione with a determined expression. “Mimum, how do you know
Professor Malfoy?” Rose was almost pleased to see her sister on the back foot. It so very
rarely happened. Hermione almost always knew the answer to the questions she was asking
and it was satisfying to see her have to organise her thoughts before answering.

Hermione’s face stilled. “We were both students at Hogwarts at the same time. We were not
in the same house. We were not friends.”

Rose considered this. “But then how did he know Mum and Dad?”

Hermione sat down as though she’d been stunned. “He didn’t.”

“But Professor Malfoy…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Rose. He didn’t know our parents.” Hermione’s voice had gotten low
and dangerous. “He didn’t like muggleborns like us and he certainly would never have
interacted with them. Ever.”

Rose learned back in her chair. Hermione had gotten… taunt. Like a bowstring before an
arrow gets released. Both girls took a calming breath in and out.

Hermione glanced over at Rose. “Let me help you put these books away and then I’ll show
you how to ask the house elves for some extra dinner. They make so much food and are
wonderful cooks.”

******

Hermione was incensed. How dare Malfoy bring up her parents to Rose? She stomped down
towards the dungeons. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Malfoy since she’d gotten to the
castle but it had taken just one day for him to needle her just like he’d done for so many years
at school. She stormed into the dungeons.

“Malfoy!” she yelled out, causing the man on the opposite side of the dungeons to drop the
flask he was holding which set off a small explosion, sending him backwards into a desk and
crumpled into a heap.

She rushed over as Malfoy groggily started to sit up, batting away the smoke from the
explosion as she went.

“Granger.” he drawled, giving her a perfunctory nod.

“Malfoy.” she glared down at him. “How dare you upset Rose?”
He shook his head, reaching up one arm to the table next to him to help him pull himself back
up. Hermione took a moment to look at him. Still tall, somewhat gangly and well-muscled
across the shoulders, Malfoy had gotten even more handsome since they’d been in school.
His hair, rather than being slicked back, was somewhat long and brushed his ears, with a
fringe that nearly touched his eyebrows. Heavens help her he’d also started wearing glasses
with rectangular frames now somewhat askew on his nose from the explosion. He glared
back. “What do you mean, upset?”

She got right in his space, noting his nostrils flaring as he retreated in the face of her anger.
“She says you asked about our parents. She doesn’t even remember them. After the war their
house was just a pile of ash. You can’t say you knew them after you destroyed it.”

Malfoy nodded curtly. “Is there anything else you’d like?” A sneer graced his features.
“Perhaps me on my knees begging for forgiveness?”

She snorted. “That wouldn’t even be sincere. You may have Harry wrapped around your
fingers, but I will be damned if you hurt Rose along the way.” He nodded stiffly. “I’m glad
we understand one another.” He looked like he was holding his breath. “Goodbye, Malfoy.”
and then she whisked herself away.
 Night Patrol

Draco felt his knees buckle underneath him as Granger swept out of the classroom. She’d
been so close. If he’d just reached out he could have tousled his hand into her curls and
pulled her in. He closed his eyes. She’d smelled incredible. Draco wasn’t sure if she’d ever
been so close to him since he and Goyle had been rescued from Crabbe’s fiendfyre in the
Room of Requirement. Merlin. Had her eyes always sparked like fire or was he just noticing
it now?

He shook himself and waved his wand over the remains of the explosion and grimaced at the
pain in his back. He needed to finish cleaning up quickly and head down to Hogsmead. Harry
would be waiting for him.

******

Harry was, indeed, waiting for him. James and Albus had been easy to get down to sleep that
night, but Lily was, again, proving that her tenacity knew no bounds. He opened the door
with one hand holding Lily onto his chest and gave Draco a wide grin.

“Thanks for looking after the kids tonight so I can do the castle patrol.” Harry transferred the
baby quickly over to Draco who moved her up onto his shoulder, with an arm snug under her.
“I swear she knows which nights you’re coming down because she’s a right terror and I can
never get her to go to sleep. I’ll be back just after midnight. Good luck!” Harry ducked
around Draco’s lanky frame and dashed back towards the castle.

Draco looked across to Lily and smiled. Such a lovely baby. Grey eyes stared into bottle
green until Lily grinned back showing her two new teeth then puked onto his shoulder. “And
your daddy didn’t put a cloth on me before leaving. Bugger.”

It had only taken six renditions of Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump and four of Au
Clair de la Lune to get Lily to finally close her eyes and accept sleep as an eventuality. By
that point Draco’s back had really begun to hurt. He stretched it several times between
responding to Martina’s letter where she’d referred to him as a luddite and catching up on
manor correspondence but it was still bothering him.

As the hour passed to eleven he started to brew a small pain potion, with the intention of
taking it before heading back to the castle. As he watched it bubble he used a second scouring
spell on the spit up on his shoulder. Amazing how babies had found a secretion that would
defy even the harshest spell. He sniffed at the spot and then shrugged. He’d ask an elf to look
at it once he was back to the castle. He looked down into the potion again. Perhaps he’d add
some yarrow to help him sleep, too.

******

As Draco was starting on the first of many repetitions of Babbity Rabbity Harry had reached
the castle and bounded up the steps to greet his patrol partner. Hermione had given him a
short smile and told him to lead the way. All teachers had patrol four times a month. Harry
and Draco had arranged it so that they would never patrol together and Draco would always
be available to watch the youngest Potters. Hermione, however, was a bundle of nervous
energy. Harry could almost see the sparks coming off of her.

It took a bit of cajoling for her to start opening up to Harry.

“I know he’s your friend now, Harry, but he lied to Rose. I just can’t believe he’d stoop to
lying to her just to get to me.”

Harry stared at her blankly. “What do you mean by lying?”

Hermione huffed. “He said he met with my parents during the war. I went to their house the
day after the battle before I went to find them in Australia. All that was left of that house was
a smoking crater. If the Death Eaters had gotten to them before they’d left they would never
have made it to Perth in the first place.” She sounded as though she were on the verge of
crying. “And Malfoy told her he knew them.”

Harry quickly pulled Hermione into an alcove and hugged her tight as she broke into sobs. It
took several minutes for her to get back ahold of herself and pull away, her eyes red.

Hermione gave him a watery smile. “Thanks Harry. I know it’s been a long time but it still
hurts. That obliviate I used on them….”

Harry chuckled and pulled out a handkerchief. “It’s ok. I never really even knew my parents
and thinking of them still hurts, even all these years later.” Hermione sniffed and blew her
nose. “But… if Draco says he talked to your parents, he probably did.”

Hermione looked at Harry in shock.

“I promised him that I’d keep his secrets from the war, Hermione. His experiences… were
not pleasant.”

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. “I mean, disarming Dumbledore wouldn’t be ‘pleasant’ would
it?”

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes serious as he stared back at her. “And yet, with it being part of
Dumbledore’s plan he went along with it. Just as I did he had to watch Snape cast that Avada
Kedavra, with only faith that it would eventually bring about the end of the war. He sacrificed
a lot, Hermione. More than you can imagine.” Harry took a deep breath in and held out his
elbow. “Come on, let’s get on patrol. Let’s get some of that energy out, hmmm?”

With a sigh Hermione took the elbow and Harry led them back out of the alcove and down
the corridor.

“Your choice for what we talk about. Quidditch season? That starts up next week. Or how
about your birthday? A bird tells me that Luna is planning a get together in Greenhouse C for
the faculty and no one can stop Luna once she’s planned a party - I mean, unless the
hurdandies come out to play during the full moon. Took her six months to decide that we
could gather again without upsetting the garden gnomes.”
Harry and Hermione eventually broke up two pairs of lovebirds who were happily ignoring
curfew in the courtyard and were only followed by Mrs. Norris for a half hour. Harry had
made it his mission to keep her mind occupied with the trivialities of teaching and the
students she’d be seeing starting tomorrow (no ancient runes classes on the first day of term).
Finally, at half eleven he let her to the base of the astronomy tower and took his leave.

“I’ve got to be getting home, my babysitter is only available until midnight. The last half
hour is just escorting the first year astronomy students back to their houses anyway.” Harry
gave Hermione a squeeze across her shoulders. “You’re going to be a great teacher.”

He waved behind himself and left her as the first students began to descend.

******

Hermione watched Harry go with some trepidation. At least after the students were safely
tucked back into their houses she could go to sleep. Her brain felt as though it were jangling
inside of her skull. She escorted the students back to their dormitories and headed back to her
own quarters.

She wrestled her hair back into a plait, considered and rejected a bath. Her head was killing
her. Perhaps she should stop by the infirmary tomorrow and get some headache potion from
Madame Pomfrey. Hermione only had enough energy to change into her pyjamas and crawl
under the covers before sleep overtook her.

******

Draco was wrecked by his back pain by the time Harry got home. He downed the potion he’d
brewed and bid Harry goodnight. His head was ringing, his back was knotted, and he wasn’t
quite sure how he’d gotten back into his quarters at Hogwarts. He’d barely made it to his bed
and crawled under the covers. Perhaps that yarrow hadn’t been a good idea he mused as he
was pulled under and into sleep.

******

Hermione opened her eyes in a quiet forest. Her head didn’t hurt at all any more and she
could just barely hear a familiar melody floating over the breeze. She looked down and found
that her feet were bare, she was clad in wisps of fabric and there was a mossy path in front of
her and led through the trees ahead. Bowing to the logic that governed dreams, she carefully
followed the path until she found herself in a little sun-dappled glade next to a stream.

There was another person there, standing on a smooth rock next to the stream. A man who
turned and smiled as he saw her approach. He took a step towards her and held out a hand, an
encouraging half-smile on his face. He was wreathed in wispy fabric as well and she couldn't
quite make out his features.

“Ah, a good dream.” he murmured, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it.
“How I’ve missed these.” His hand ran up her arm until it tangled in her hair near the back of
her neck and his face descended onto hers. He lightly brushed his lips to her jawline, causing
her to gasp. He chuckled, closing the distance between their two bodies and wrapping his arm
around her waist. With one hand in her hair and the other on her hip he held her in place as he
peppered her lips with kisses and left her breathless.

She felt his hair brush against her cheek and she moaned as his kisses moved down and
across her collarbone while the wispy fabric melted away.

“Anything for you.” he whispered against her chest just before his lips closed around her
nipple. The feeling was electric and she arched her back towards him. He growled deep in his
chest as he sucked her deeper into his mouth as his fingers moved to mirror the movements
of his tongue on her other breast. "I love you, Hermione."

She felt her legs give way underneath her and he controlled their fall together. She could feel
him kissing down her belly and gasped and tried to sit up as he lifted one leg over his
shoulder. He looked up through hooded eyes and said pleadingly “may I?” She bit her lip and
nodded as he ducked down, dragging his tongue slowly over her clit.

******

Hermione started awake at her alarm, sitting bolt upright in bed and incredibly turned on.
What kind of a dream was that? She’d had dreams where she’d woken up horny but never
so… explicit. She leaned back into the pillows with a groan. How was she supposed to face
the day like… this? Perhaps a cold shower. A very cold shower. She rolled out of bed and her
knees nearly buckled. No. What she needed was to come, and quickly. She scrambled back
into bed and slipped her fingers down, closing her eyes, and turned her thoughts to the
mystery man with the talented tongue who had gotten her worked up in the first place.

******

Draco started awake at nearly the exact same moment. He’d had dreams about Hermione
before, but never anything as intense as this. His hand drifted down to find himself as stiff as
he’d been as a teenager. He groaned. How was he expected to concentrate on work when his
nose was filled with her scent and he knew that she was just down the hall? He leavered
himself out of bed and padded towards the shower. A cold shower, he thought to himself. A
very cold shower.

He quickly stripped off yesterday’s clothes and stood under the cold shower until all thoughts
of sex had finally left his head. He needed to get to the library. The yarrow should have just
made it easier to sleep, not force his fantasies into his dreams.
 A picnic at the lake

Hermione hadn’t gotten a restful night’s sleep since her confrontation with Malfoy in the
potions classroom. Every night she found herself back in the forest glade. Sometimes she and
the man waiting for her would walk together through the forest, sometimes they would
cuddle, his hands roaming freely, but usually they would have mindblowing sex. He would
praise her, tell her how beautiful she was, nibbling his way around her body. Mindblowing
sex that would end the dream before either one of them could climax. It was highly
frustrating. Hermione had never truly been a highly sexual person but she found her thoughts
drifting towards sex in general on a regular basis.

She’d been teaching at Hogwarts for nearly three weeks now. She’d thrown herself back into
the routine of classes, timetables and assignments. Her students were, in general, interested in
runes and only a few third years had decided to take the class after hearing who was teaching
it rather than any aptitude or aspiration for the subject.

Hermione hadn’t caught sight of Malfoy since she’d told him off about Rose. Rose, however,
had taken her to task about threatening one of her teachers. “How am I supposed to learn
anything interesting if they feel like they can’t talk to me?” She’d complained at dinner
during her second week of classes. “Professor Malfoy won’t even really look at me. He still
calls on me but he looks terrible, all rumpled and keeps almost falling asleep in class. The
older girls say he’s never been like that before. I think he might be ill.” Rose grumbled. “At
least my cure for boils went well. All those knife skills we learned really did help, even for
me, but especially for the muggleborn who haven’t made a potion before.”

But now it was Friday. The sun was setting over the forbidden forest and she’d been strictly
warned off from going anywhere near the greenhouses before her party began tomorrow.
Luna had been quite clear about that. Apparently all of her friends were invited. Even Ron
would be there. George had sent a giant box of fireworks up ahead of himself and Seamus
was installing them.

Her lips curved up, taking in a huge breath of fresh air. Rose was studying with the other
Ravenclaw first years tonight. Her eyes moved over to the shore of the Black Lake. Yes, a
walk was just what she needed. She tripped down the stairs quickly to the kitchens and asked
elves for a picnic basket to take with her. They loaded the basket quickly with what seemed
like far too much food, and when she’d laughingly protested they cheerfully chirped to her
that she could always feed the leftovers to the giant squid.

It was a fine autumn evening outside. The trees were just starting to show their changes and
the walk down to the lake was quiet but for birdsong. She walked down the path, feeling the
soft loam underfoot and thinking of nothing but the next week’s lesson plans when she heard
a quiet splashing ahead of her.

She rounded the corner curiously and was just in time to watch a tall man with a shock of
platinum hair fall off a boulder and into the water in front of her. Malfoy’s head broke the
water’s surface with a gasp. “Fuck! It’s freezing.” As he set his wand between his teeth and
paddled to an outcropping of rock, pulling himself out of the water and carefully pulling a
flask from his robes. She stared. His robes were waterlogged and clung to his body. She
watched him with fascination as he used his wand to cut some of the creeping vine attached
to the rock and shoved it deep inside the flask. With a nod he stepped back towards the edge
of the rock and his eyes met hers. “ Granger ?” He jerked in surprise and lost his footing,
falling back into the water. “Fuck.”

Hermione quickly dropped the basket and transfigured the reeds next to her into rope and
threw the end of the line towards Malfoy’s struggling body. He grabbed the end and
Hermione towed him back to shore. As he left the lake sheets of water sluiced off of him. He
stared at her for a moment, and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then closed it
again. He sighed.

“Thank you Granger.” He waved his wand over his head.

sharakus

In moments he was nearly dry. He shook out his sleeves and gestured again.

calidum ventum

A hot wind blew out from the tip of his wand and he moved it over his hair and chest.
Hermione couldn’t help but notice the body under the clothes. Even clothed as he was in light
robes and tailored pants he seemed … stretched thin, paler than he was in the dungeons and
with deep purple circles underneath his eyes.

He again seemed to almost start a sentence before sighing, and nodding towards her before
beginning to trudge back to the castle.

“Malfoy, you looked better in sixth year. What’s wrong with you?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy paused next to her and seemed tense. With a low and quiet voice he answered her
simply. “I haven’t been able to sleep well, Granger.” He took her in with his eyes, eventually
landing on the basket near her feet. “My apologies for crashing your picnic. Do try the
maple-glazed salmon if you’ve got it. I’m not sure what the elves do to it, but it’s wonderful.”

Hermione looked up into his stormy eyes and shuddered. Malfoy noticed and stepped
backwards, tearing his eyes away from her and back to the pebbled shoreline. “I should be
going. I’m hoping that this vine will help me with my… issue.” He gave a pained smile.

She nearly let him leave then, headed up to the potions room to brew whatever he was
planning when she said, surprising herself more than anyone else but perhaps Malfoy.
“Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?”

His gaze wretched back to her and he felt nearly pinned under his eyes.

“You’ve probably missed dinner. And the elves packed so much food for me…” She trailed
off as his expression didn’t change a hair. “Or you have plans already.” She nodded towards
the lake.
“I can stay for a cup of tea.” He drawled softly. She could feel his eyes on her.

“Well that’s good then.” She busied herself quickly, tapping the basket and watching it
magically unpack itself. The tea service steamed next to plates of food. “How do you take it,
then?”

“That depends.” He stepped towards the teapot, with a thoughtful expression. “Is it Earl
Grey?”

Hermione giggled.

Draco looked at her seriously. “And only if you have a slice of lemon.” His face broke into a
wry grin.

Hermione shrugged. “I think it’s just black but I’m sure you could transfigure it into
something more drinkable.”

A shrug from her companion. “Drinkability is a spectrum, Granger.” He deftly poured a cup,
added one sugar and a cream and handed it over to her. “But at least I can try.” He reached
into the basket for a slice of lemon and poured the tea over it.

potabilis

He took a small sip, winced slightly, and settled himself on a rock facing the lake. The silence
grew up between them as she fixed herself a plate, making sure to take some of the salmon
he’d recommended. Draco was simply at rest. Not a single movement was wasted as his hand
held the saucer and his eyes roved across the surface of the loch, following the giant squid
which seemed to be doing a rather complicated backstroke.

Why had she invited him to stay? There he was, simply raising the teacup to his lips, pinky
extended, like an extra in a comedy of manners from the Victorian Era.

“So what was so important that you had to nearly drown yourself to get?” she asked.

Draco looked across at her, his eyes clouding over. “I’ve been… having some difficulty
sleeping. This vine should work in a more concentrated potion than the dreamless sleep,
which has not been working.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. That sounded familiar. “I find myself waking as well, but after
the first wakening I can get back to sleep. Have you tried just going back to bed.”

His expression grew tight. “No, Granger. Just going back doesn’t help because I find myself
in the same place as when I woke the first time.” He took another sip of tea and snorted
slightly.

“Not to your liking, Malfoy?” He raised an eyebrow as a question. “The tea, is it not to your
liking?”

His face softened and she could see a smile under the surface. “It’s fine, Granger.”
Another moment was spent just listening to the trees rustle and the waves lap the shore.
“Granger, I… I’m really quite sorry.” Hermione’s eyes snapped towards Malfoy, who was
staring down at his teacup trembling in the saucer. “For your parents, for the war, for my
bloody aunt. I might have changed sides but the hurt I did was real.” He continued quickly. “I
don’t expect you to believe that I’ve changed, but I do work on it. Only took Longbottom
three years to start to forgive me.”

Hermione grew thoughtful. “We should probably call each other by our first names,
especially if we are teaching here together.”

Draco stared at her. The silence stretched between them. “I’m not sure that would be such a
good idea.” That ghost of a smile was back. “Someone might even believe we could be
friends.” He set down his empty teacup. “Good evening, Granger.”

Hermione’s eyes followed him as he walked back towards the castle, moving swiftly in the
indolent, unhurried way of the aristocracy. How… frustrating. She finished her picnic, threw
the remains of the bread to the squid and trudged back up to the castle.

That night Hermione took her time getting ready for bed. She drew herself a hot bath, and lay
back in her sheets, waiting for the comforting arms of sleep and her nightly lover to come for
her. Instead she woke up late the next morning, on the day she turned thirty, tangled in her
blankets and entirely unsatisfied.
 Before the Party

Hermione was curled up in a wingback chair in the teacher’s common room the morning of
her birthday when Pansy Weasley, nee Parkinson, stepped out of the flames in front of her,
lugging a couple of duffle bags, with Narcissa Malfoy on her heels. Both witches were
artfully put together for ten o’clock on a Saturday morning, without a rumple in their dresses
or a hair out of place. Hermione gaped at them, putting one hand up to try and smooth the
frizzy curls that had already escaped from her ponytail.

Pansy looked down at her, her bright red lips curving up. “Good morning Hermione.” she
turned to Narcissa and gestured down the hallway. “Draco’s room is that way. I’ll be right
back.” Pansy swept away, leaving Hermione pinned in the chair by Narcissa’s gaze.
Hermione almost felt her thoughts dancing in front of her eyes as Narcissa contemplated her.

levicorpus

A shout echoed down the hallway. “Pansy, what the fuck are you doing here?” Hermione
watched as Pansy marched back in with a self satisfied smirk and Draco dangling in front of
her as though from an invisible hook. He still looked tired, but not as bad as he’d been the
night before by the lake. Malfoy was, apparently, a man who slept in a long-sleeved t-shirt
and flannel trousers. His struggles against the spell had caused his shirt to ride down, almost
covering his face and Hermione was treated to a glimpse of lean muscles all the way up his
back and abdomen, criss-crossed with scars. Pansy spelled him over the fireplace rug and
then dropped him at his mother’s feet.

“Really, Draco.” said Narcissa with forced sweetness. “One should really respond to one’s
mother’s letters. It’s rude not to.”

A pained groan came from the heap. Narcissa reached down, grabbed Draco by the ear and
threw floo powder into the fireplace. “It was lovely to see you, Hermione dear, you must
come for tea one of these days. Malfoy Manor!” At the mention of Hermione’s name
Malfoy’s eyes flew open and he stared at her in a panic. Hermione watched her step through,
dragging Malfoy behind herself.

Pansy grinned at Hermione. “Can’t tell you how many times I wanted to do that to him when
he was at university and refusing to answer our letters. I nearly frightened his muggle
roommate to death when I finally just showed up to drag him to my wedding.” Pansy rubbed
her arms in glee. “Couldn’t use a wand, of course, but then, I’ve never had to to frighten
people.”

Hermione just stared at Pansy in shock. Her ex-boyfriend’s wife was standing in front of her
after kidnapping a member of the Hogwarts staff and Hermione hadn’t moved a muscle.
Pansy narrowed her eyes and sat down in the matching chair by the fireplace. “Luna sent
me.”

Hermione blinked at Pansy, who nodded. “Yup. That Luna. She wants you all dolled up for
your party tonight, so much so that she has all five of my children at the Burrow right now so
I not only get an afternoon off, but I get to style someone. Bonus points that it’s you.”

Hermione took a fortifying sip of her coffee and settled on the first polite thing she could
think of to say. “I hear the wedding was beautiful. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

Pansy sat back in the wingback chair, crossing her legs at the ankle and resting her chin on
her palm. “It was. But it was the same week your parents died, so your excuse was
acceptable. I’m sorry to say that before Charlie explained to me the reason I thought you’d
just not want to come because you still had a torch lit for Ronald.” A sly grin crossed the
girl’s face. “I may have said some unkind things, but I was in a wedding dress and had just
found out that my soon-to-be-husband’s famous ex-girlfriend hadn’t bothered to show up.”

Her eyes drilled into Hermione to the point where she felt like squirming and forcibly
stopped herself from doing so. “You aren’t carrying a torch for my husband, are you
Granger?” Pansy’s head tilted to the side and her voice seemed just on the edge of dangerous.

Hermione shook her head and Pansy responded with a conspiratorial grin. “I understand.
That man was a project .” She sniffed haughtily. “He’s always enjoyed a firm hand, and he’s
so terribly good with children.”

Hermione raised her hand. “Yes, Granger?”

“What are you planning to do to me?”

Pansy’s smile grew predatory. “I’m here to make you beautiful.”

******

Draco’s feet hit the marble of the library floor and he tore his head away from his mother’s
fingers. “What do you think you’re doing? How dare you sic Pansy on me?”

Narcissa looked coldly at her son. “How dare I? Why did I have to hear that Miss Granger
was back from - of all people - Aquilia Greengrass?”

Draco shrivelled under his mother’s glare.

“She invited me to tea Thursday afternoon. What a coup for her, don’t you think?
McGonagall has kept it nicely under wraps and the Prophet couldn’t get ahold of anything
but rumours at the train station but the students have started to write home about the war hero
who’s now living in the castle.” Narcissa advanced on Draco step by step, forcing him to
retreat to the wall until she was directly in his face. “How dare you put me in such a
position?” She raised a hand to his face. “This may hurt, Draco. But I have to know.”

legilimens

It felt like his mother was falling into his mind, dumping it out, then picking up memories
like discarded socks and helpfully categorising them and stacking them together. He fought
against putting up occlumency barriers against her. He could feel how gentle she was being
across the destroyed sections of his walls. When she started to look into the dreams he began
to flail against her. “Please… no…” She merely looked in on the first and then began sorting
the memories of the day before for him. “Concentrate, Draco.” She whispered into him, then
brought up the explosion. “There. That is it.”

Draco blinked down at his mother. “What’s it?”

“That’s what’s caused the dreams. Why were you mucking around with amortentia?”
Narcissa’s lip curled back. “Especially when on the same continent as Miss Granger?”

“It’s for research, mother. For the revised Advanced Potion Making book.” Draco pulled
away from her. “The publisher requested more testing on it. I… I didn’t think she’d… why
she’d have ever…” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

Narcissa sighed. “Have you found a way to deactivate the dreams?”

“Yes.” he whispered.

Narcissa patted his hand. “You’ll need to dose her too. She had a dream last night.”

The two Malfoys stared at each other as Draco grew pale.

“Does she… know it was me?”

Narcissa smiled sadly. “No, Draco. She does not. You should, however, at least try to be
honest with the girl. She’s starting to put two and two together, and with you having made
friends with all of her friends…” She snorted. “I mean, you could have been more careful if
you never wanted her to know you. You need to figure out where you’re going, Dragon.” She
clipped off in the direction of the solarium. “Come have tea before you go back to school.”

Draco padded after her on bare feet. Bare feet in the manor, indeed.

The tea service was sitting under a stasis charm that his mother dissipated with a wave of her
hand, expertly pouring two cups and adding lemon slices. Draco picked up his saucer and
folded himself into the chair across from his mother’s rattan chair.

“Is it even worth having the argument about marriage with you again?” Narcissa glowered at
him over the rim of her teacup.

“No. It’s her or no one.” Draco replied quietly. “I don’t think she would ever want me.”

Narcissa snorted. “I don’t think you’re correct, darling, and shouldn't you know whether or
she would before making up her mind for her? She, at least, very much enjoyed your dreams
together.”

Draco started, then groaned. “How much did you see, mother?”

“Enough.” A faint smile crossed Narcissa’s face as she contemplated her son. The deep
circles under his eyes and the weight he’d lost over the past few weeks. “You may need to
take it slow with Miss Granger, but she has more empathy than you give her credit for. I, for
one, would prefer if you actually did something about it rather than wallow.”
“Well what would you suggest?” He replied with overarching snarkiness. Narcissa smiled,
and Draco nearly rescinded the offer. He’d forgotten just how resourceful, clever and
determined his mother was when there was something she desperately wanted. And she
wanted legitimate grandchildren.

******

Pansy was nothing if not prepared. Hermione had found herself bundled into her quarters
quickly and handed a bag of dresses. How deep the bag went was anyone's guess and
Hermione suspected a expanding charm. With each dress Pansy demanded that she come out,
turn, and repeat when Pansy wrinkled her nose and said with simple derision: "No". Pansy
finally settled on a periwinkle dress that fell just over her knees and showed far more
shoulder than Hermione was comfortable with.

It was as Pansy was showing Hermione how to do a basic skincare routine before makeup
application that Hermione finally plucked up the courage to ask Pansy why she'd come.

Pansy gave Hermione a measured look. "My family was quite insistant that I marry. Ron took
me as I was, and lets me control almost every aspect of our lives together. He loves me. If
you had stayed you would have ended up together. I'm entirely in your debt that you ran off
to Australia. I love him, Hermione. Even his prickly, jealous, pratty bits. Every bit that would
have eventually driven a bright, career-oriented clever witch like you absolutely bonkers."

Hermione blinked. It was more truth than she had been expected from Pansy. It must have
showed because Pansy continued. "Ron is good for me, too. I'm far more honest about what I
need and what I want. He's got bull in a china shop energy where emotions are concerned."
Pansy gave Hermione a little squeeze across the shoulders, and Hermione responded with a
grin.

"I'm glad to hear that you're happy with Ron. Up to five children so far?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "He promised me we'd stop at four. And then twins! Now he says we
need enough for our own Quidditch team." A quick grin. "I could see you wanting a few
children, Hermione. But not a Quidditch team's worth... And I love Ron enough that he might
just get me tying Molly's brood."

Hermione giggled, which set Pansy off and they collapsed onto the couch. It took them nearly
ten minutes to get back in charge of themselves.

Pansy waved a hand at Hermione's head. "I still can't believe that the brightest witch of our
age hasn't figured out basic curling and smoothing charms. Let me at that head of yours."

As Pansy worked over her hair, Hermione felt herself relax. It was quite odd to be sitting
while Pansy's hands ran through her hair with her wand, taking time every second or third
pass to pin different parts of her hair up in a complicated arrangement she was sure she could
never recreate.

"Pansy..." Hermione started, but stopped herself short. She could feel the other girl pause.
"What is it Hermione?"

"I..."

"Come on, spit it out, Granger. We haven't all day for you to wait to ask me about seventh
year at Hogwarts."

Hermione twisted in her seat to stare open-mouthed at Pansy, who smiled back at her
confusion. "Narcissa warned me you'd probably want to know." Pansy took in a deep and
controlled breath. "I think the important points are how often Draco was coordinating the
torture here at school. He'd figured out a way around the cruciatus curse, you see. If you
changed the pronunciation just slightly, cruci- ay -tus rather than cruci - ah -tus you could
almost make it pain free. He was always zipping back and forth between the manor and
school so that he could use legilimency to convince whatever first year they'd chosen for us
to torture that it had actually happened." Pansy shuddered. "It was truly awful here. Some of
the time the Carrows decided that they would be the ones using the curses - we couldn't do
anything then, and those were normally on the older Gryffindors. You, Ron and Harry were
off on your camping adventure and the rest of us were stuck here with the Carrows until
you'd finally destroyed those Horcruxes and were ready to take on Hogwarts."

Hermione turned and stared at Pansy, who she remembered as cool and aloof and had come
across as highly capable and organized as an adult.

"All I could think about when Harry finally got here was to get the hell out. I just couldn't
take any more."

Hermione brought her arms up and swept Pansy into a hug. "I never knew."

Pansy stared up. "I need to not cry right now. It'll ruin my mascara. Knew I should have gone
for a waterproof one, but this brand doesn't come in waterproof. Pass me a tissue."

Hermione grabbed a tissue from the box and Pansy carefully wiped her eyes. "But now we're
all here, together, and I'm going to do your makeup. You've got great skin for a thirty year
old. Let's try and convince it you're still twenty-five."
 Birthday
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Hermione stared into the greenhouse, wide-eyed. Luna had transformed it into an incredible
party space. Silvery hangings covered every wall, with fairy fairy lights hung in clumps and
strings around the outside. There was a giant rectangular table down the centre with
comfortable chairs clustered around it. It looked like Luna had lit and charmed a hundred
candles to float over the table in a rainbow of colours. Each candle sparked into the air,
dripping multicoloured sparks that disappeared three feet off the table.

Pansy had left quickly in the middle of the afternoon to hurry home and check on her
children and pick up Ron. Hermione’s hair had been tamed into soft curls that fell nearly to
her waist, with natural looking makeup and that gorgeous periwinkle tea dress. Her only win
against Pansy had been her instance in wearing silver flats over the five inch stilettos Pansy
had tried to insist on.

What was even better than any decoration or her makeover was the crowd of people she
could see inside. Red haired Weasleys, Luna’s bright blond, the raven-haired Patil twins and
Harry’s messy hair were all aswirl together.

Checking her memory, she wondered aloud if this was really the greenhouse they’d repotted
mandrakes in in second year.

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Said Neville. Hermione started because she hadn’t heard him walk up
behind her. “Don’t remember much of that lesson, but I’ve gotten us better ear protection for
the students since.” He grinned at her. Neville, Hermione decided, was distinctly more
handsome than he’d been in sixth year. He gave her a quick hug.

“Are you ready for all the people? I know that I can barely stand the troops of students who
bend all my plants every day.” His smile was warm and genuine. Gone was the excessively
nervous boy who had grown into a fighter. The man beside her was genuinely at peace in the
world, and it showed. From the way he left his hands in his pockets and his quiet
contemplation of both Hermione and the laughter that was currently drifting out of the
greenhouse. “I’m sure if I were more sociable Luna would be throwing these kinds of dos all
the time.”

Hermione bumped her shoulder into Neville’s arm. “I think you’re exactly as sociable as she
needs you to be. Are you ready to go in with me?”

“Sure.” She smiled up brightly and took his elbow.

Her appearance set up a cry from the crowd and she found herself in a giant group hug. Luna
organised the chaos into chairs and they settled in for a lively party. Ron and Pansy snagged
chairs just on Hermione’s left and Harry and Ginny next to Rose on Hermione’s right. Harry
raised a glass: “To the first of the three of us turning thirty!” Ron and Hermione clinked their
glasses against his.

Ron and Pansy regaled her with stories of their herd of children, who were growing and
getting into things at the Burrow at the same rate but in different ways than Molly’s brood
had done. Harry and Ginny then dominated the conversation with Quidditch, talking about
how well Ginny’s season was going so far. Just before dessert was served Luna called out
over the table to Pansy. “When do you think Draco will come by?”

Pansy giggled back. “He promised to show up by the end tonight. I’d hate to have to wake
him up again tomorrow and drag him back to the manor for another chat with his mother.”

Hermione sat back in her chair, wondering about that, I mean, why would Narcissa Malfoy
care if he missed her birthday party? But then Harry caught sight of someone rounding the
corner of the greenhouse and called out to Draco. Hermione glanced over and caught her
breath. Unlike in the dungeons when she’d caught him unaware or the lake where he’d
looked half drowned, Draco was well put together tonight. He was wearing soft-looking
charcoal tailored pants that hugged his hips, a dark waistcoat that emphasised both his slim
build and wide shoulders and a crisp white shirt with no tie and the first few buttons undone.
His white-blond hair was soft looking, just brushing his collar and falling down over one eye
and he was wearing his glasses, bringing more attention to his stormy grey eyes.

“My apologies for being late. Happy Birthday Granger.” He nodded in her direction, kissed
the air near both of Luna’s cheeks then seated himself on the same side of the table but at the
other end, so she couldn’t stare at him without being obvious about it.

Rose, however, had no such reservations and immediately switched sides of the table to
pepper Professor Malfoy with potions questions.

Conversation picked back up again after Luna wheeled out her birthday cake. Hermione may
not have been able to see Draco, but she could hear the hum of his low voice under other
conversations happening around her, and could watch as former enemies reacted to him with
love, support and laughter. How Rose lit up asking him questions. The Patil twins who were
directly across from him kept giggling at whatever it was that he was saying.

Rose left just before nine o’clock so she could be back in the Ravenclaw common room
before curfew.

Just as the evening was winding down Luna appeared with a guitar. Hermione nearly
groaned. Luna herself was not the most musical of people, and at nearly every party she’d
been to where a guitar was brought out the person singing and playing had not been as good
as they thought they were. But everyone else at the table reacted happily, Ron even whistling
as Luna moved forward, down the table, finally handing the instrument to a blushing Draco.

“All right then.” He sighed. “But you lot need to sing because I could barely teach my classes
last time.” He quickly tuned the strings and looked over at the Padma. “Let me guess, with
Oasis just breaking up you want anything by them?”

Padma nodded and Draco started the chords to Wonderwall.

Hermione sang along with the rest of the table as Draco went through song after song,
touching on classics both from the muggle world and magical. Finally he took his long
fingers off the strings, stretching them and leaned his chair back to look at Pansy.

“Since you got me here and stole my guitar off the wall for Luna, my mother said you get a
request. But only one.” He smirked at Pansy, who leered back and responded with “Cabrel.
The one you played at our wedding.”

Draco chuckled as Pansy dragged Ron up to dance, with many of the other couples following
suit. This left Hermione sitting where she could see Draco bent over and ready to begin the
song. She hadn’t yet had a chance to hear him sing, but Draco didn’t disappoint. As he began
to sing she was distracted by the rich way his voice seemed to fill the greenhouse, but then
she started to listen. Hermione didn’t speak French fluently, but had taken a few years of the
language at primary school before leaving for Hogwarts. As he started the chorus he looked
over at her and she felt pinned to her chair.

“Le monde a tellement de regrets/Tellement de choses qu'on promet./Une seule pour laquelle
je suis fait/Je t'aimais, je t'aime et je t'aimerai.”

Aimer - that was love, wasn’t it? Hermione looked over to where Pansy and Ron were
dancing around in a circle, her feet on his as he used his larger frame to move her around.
Ginny and Harry were clinging to each other and Neville spun Luna out and back in.

“Que seule la lumière pourrait.../Et mes doigts pris sur tes poignets,/Je t'aimais, je t'aime et je
t'aimerai…”

Malfoy pulled the guitar behind his back and sauntered down to her end of the table. He
nodded at her. “Granger.” He pulled a flask out from inside his waistcoat. “You’ve been
having difficulty sleeping since the explosion in the potions lab?” He continued quietly. She
nodded dumbly. “I think this might help.” He quickly snagged her glass of wine off the table
in front of her. “You’ll want this afterwards, it’s not a pleasant taste.” She brought the flask to
her lips and quickly took a swig, coughing at the taste, and grabbed for the glass of wine. His
eyes crinkled at the edges as he took back the flask. “Have a good night, Granger.” She
watched him move over to Luna and make his goodbyes and stared as he exited the
greenhouse and into the night.

She didn’t know how long she stared after Malfoy but she was brought back by a quick snort
from Pansy, who had appeared over her shoulder. Hermione looked up at her and Pansy
smiled down. “Did you just accept a potion from Draco without asking what was in it?”

Hermione nodded, stunned.

Pansy smiled. “Excellent.”

Hermione choked. “How is that excellent? I might grow a second nose.”

Pansy wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug. “It
means you’re seeing him more as Draco.”
 That night, after another hour in the greenhouse, Hermione made her way back to bed and a
dreamless sleep.

Chapter End Notes

Translation -

The world has so many regrets. So many things that we promise. Only one thing am I
made for. I have loved you, I love you, I will love you.

****

Only the light could. My fingers on your wrist. I have loved you, I love you, I will love
you.

-Francis Cabrel, Je t'aimais, je t'aime, je t'aimerai

 Hallowe'en

Draco stared deep into the cauldron in front of him. Modelling the wafting rather than
outright sniffing he wanted his students to use he smelled it. “An interesting attempt,
Wandkins, but I think you may have added too much foxglove.” Moving on to the last
cauldron he gave Rose a soft smile as he ducked his head to waft the potion’s steam in front
of his nose. “Perfect, Granger. I saw you washing out your mortar with distilled water before
grinding your bouncing bulb. Excellent work indeed.” Turning to the rest of the class he
called out. “Make sure your potion is labelled with your name, house, and today’s date and
leave it in the stand on my desk. If you’d like to use the pompion potion in preparation for the
feast tomorrow for Hallowe’en, you’re welcome to come back just before dinner tonight and
pick it up.”

He found himself humming as he supervised cauldron cleanup and racking of sample vials.

Draco was still going out of his way to avoid Hermione. He woke early, spent the majority of
his lunch hours grading papers in the dungeons and normally asking for a tea tray in either
his room or the classroom in the evenings. What he wasn’t doing was curtailing his social life
with his friends. He still went down to the greenhouses on a regular basis to ask Neville about
the status of some of the fresh ingredients his students would be using in potions. He showed
up at Harry’s home to babysit the children, sometimes startling Hermione when she arrived to
pick up Harry for a walk over to the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had even walked in on
him teaching Ron Weasley how to waltz in an abandoned classroom so he could take Pansy
out dancing.

His mother had been right, of course. Hermione looked at him like an ill-fitting puzzle piece.
The sooner she accepted that he fit the sooner she would leave him to his own devices. His
mother had had some pointed suggestions on how to attract Hermione’s attention, so Draco
was carefully making sure to do the exact opposite of that. His mantra had been unfailingly
polite, but distant.

The younger Granger, however, was a wonderful addition to the potions classroom. She
seemed to have better insight in how to not ask so many questions that her fellow classmates
wanted to strangle her (as her older sister had not) and her care over her practice potions was
impressive. He wondered idly if she might continue into the NEWT level of potions, but that
was a conversation for after OWLs. He carefully tidied, readying potions ingredients for the
next week and testing the contents of the students’ flasks so that they could be picked up
later.

It was in this happy space that Harry walked into his classroom in a bit of a rush.

“Draco, you have to do something.”

Draco turned around in confusion. “About… what, exactly?”

“Hermione.” Harry looked at him seriously.

Draco blinked. “I don’t know what you mean. What have I done? Is she alright?”

Harry crossed his arms. “Ginny set her up on a date with Oliver Wood.” Draco felt his heart
crush inside of him. “They’re going out tomorrow, for Hallowe’en.” Draco paled and sat
down on a stool.

“Well,” said Draco, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “That’s that then.”

“What do you mean that’s that then?” Harry exploded. “You need to get out there and talk to
her.”

“I don’t.” Draco said firmly. “If she is happy then I am happy for her.” His voice cracked at
the end of his sentence.

Harry started pacing up and down the classroom. He was going to talk to Ginny. Get Ginny to
cancel the date. Perhaps he could hex or stun Oliver. He’d always been pants at defence
against the dark arts. Finally Harry came up short and stared at Draco. “Aren’t you going to
say anything?”

Draco shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Harry sighed, all the fight leaving him. “You’re not going to interfere, are you?”

Draco just looked into those honest bottle green eyes and shrugged. “She’s an attractive
woman, Potter. Of course there are going to be men asking her out. She’s warm, intuitive and
intelligent. She should have a free choice. I’m still shackled by the past. I’m a Death Eater for
heavens sake!”

Harry deflated. “I would like to remind you that you took the mark under duress.”

A statement that made Draco snort. “Not enough, apparently.”

Harry chuckled and sank onto a stool next to Draco’s. “So what do you want to do for
Hallowe’en?”

Draco raked his fingers through his hair. “I think I’m going to visit some of my friends from
uni. A few of them have ended up in Edinburgh.” He took off his glasses and rubbed the
heels of his hands into his eyes. “Or I’ll end up working here until all hours. The publisher
for the revised Advanced Potion Making is getting demanding.” That was an understatement.
Apparently the orders for the revised Magical Drafts and Potions was keeping the presses
running full tilt and Jones, his editor, was getting bombarded on a daily basis from schools
that were just chomping at the bit at getting their hands on the Advanced textbook. He stared
pleadingly at Harry. “I have quite a lot of work to do.”

Harry nudged him with his shoulder. “Don’t forget you’re coming to help me with my NEWT
class next week. Patronuses. Not many of the teachers here can produce a corporeal one”

Draco nodded.
He’d first seen Hermione’s patronus when she was practising at the edge of the Forbidden
Forest. Hermione was a creature of habit. Same table in the library, same practice area for
difficult spells by the Forbidden Forest. That way she could yell out her frustration when a
spell went awry into the trees. She talked to herself quite a bit while studying. His own table
at the library was just around the corner from Hermione’s. Draco, if he raised his head just
enough, could see through the shelf of books and stare at her bushy head and hear her
whispering to herself over the scratch of her quill. That was how he’d known she needed the
protean charm. She’d been looking for some way of communication with lots of people, over
distance, and in some clever way to get around Umbridge. When she’d fallen asleep he’d
spelled the thin manual about protean charms over to her stack of books, slipping it between
two thick volumes, but sticking out far enough that she wouldn’t help but notice it when she
woke up.

He’d taken to following her around the castle discreetly on Wednesday afternoons when she
disappeared for a few hours and came back with reddened cheeks and a determinedly pleased
expression on her face. That was how he’d found her practice arena. Just inside the border of
the trees she had spelled a sandy pit with a rope edge. It was there that she worked on her
own. Draco cast warming charms and hid in a tree to watch her work. It had only taken her
two sessions to produce that patronus. Her silvery otter slipped in between the trees, hiding in
branches and dashing down to knock off her knit cap.

Hermione had been lucky that he’d seen Umbridge before she had. Casting a quick diffindo
into the trees that faced the castle had called her attention to the pink dress robes marching
towards the forest. Umbridge had destroyed that section of the forest completely, and set the
inquisitorial squad to patrol the edge of the forest in the new year to try and catch
Dumbledore’s Army.

That his own patronus' shape had been entirely surprising. Snape had spent Christmas break
trying to teach him how to cast the charm. Finally a memory of Hermione smiling at Harry,
though for a split second he’d thought it had been for him, had sent his own into the world.

Coming back to himself he murmured to Harry “I guess I’m still lucky I was able to cast a
Patronus at all. Came in handy later.”

Harry nodded seriously.

“I’m going to be fine, Harry.”

“You’ll floo me if you’re not, right?”

“I promise.”

******

Draco had meant to keep that promise. He’d stayed behind instead of participating in any of
the pre-Hallowe’en festivities, citing the immense amount of work he had to do on the new
book. He snagged a seat in the teacher’s common room that didn’t face the flames of the fire
when Wood showed up to pick Hermione up for their date. They were going to go to Zabini’s
Hogsmeade restaurant.
Lovely.

He had to admit that Oliver Wood was handsome. Tall, lean and in fine Quidditch form,
wearing a tight maroon jumper and beige slacks. He held his breath as they greeted each
other, throwing floo powder into the fireplace and heading off into the night.

Excellent.

Really really excellent.

Draco needed a drink.

He burst off the chair, moved towards the fireplace and called out “Hog’s Head”. No chance
of Harry finding him there on Hallowe’en night. The Potter family would be headed to the
Three Broomsticks, and Harry had said that they were planning a family costume from
something called Star Wars for the family costume prize. Perhaps firewhiskey would drown
out the tinkling laugh Granger had directed Wood’s way.

******

Hermione had a good time with Oliver Wood. It’s too bad that he only talked about
Quidditch. He was definitely handsome in a tall dark way but she needed more from a date
than the latest Thistles bludger statistics. At least they’d had a nice time, she thought as they
made their way through Hogsmeade. Oliver had suggested a drink before dropping her off,
and she had agreed, but the line at the Three Broomsticks was out the door. She saw Ginny
and Harry as Leia and Han Solo with the youngest Potters as Droids through the window, but
Oliver had gestured up the street.

“Wha abo’ the Hog’s Heed? Naught go’in on thar.”

Hermione shrugged. As far as she was concerned Butterbeer was Butterbeer and Zabini’s
restaurant hadn’t served any. Just wine. They slipped in through the door and took in the
slightly rougher clientele. She was pretty sure the wizard hustling pool was at least part troll,
and up at the bar were a few goblins and a very familiar shock of platinum blond hair.

She was having a hard time with Malfoy. Harry trusted him with his children. His children.
She didn’t think Harry valued anything more than their lives. She couldn’t shrug his presence
off. He was always there on the edges, a sardonic smile, witty comment or far-away look in
his eyes drawing her attention in.

As she and Oliver made their way to the bar she saw that he was sitting with both hands
holding up his face, his tie loosened and both sleeves rolled up. She could see the edges of
the dark tattoo that marred the skin of his left forearm and shuddered.

Oliver walked up to the bar and ordered two butterbeers. At the sound of his voice Draco’s
face shot up and looked at them in shock. He quickly stood up from the bar, tossed a few
galleons at his glass, nodded at them, mumbling out a quick “Granger, Wood” and headed out
the door while looking quite unsteady on his feet.
 ******

Draco rushed outside and rushed back towards Hogwarts. He tore through the forest, through
the gates, into the castle and headed directly towards the teacher’s quarters. What had she
been doing there? He felt so unsteady as he entered his room. It was too bad that the castle
had no electricity or he’d have been able to play some of his music.

Tonight needed music. He grabbed two sobering potions, downing them both. Then he
stumbled towards his guitar and started warming up. Scales, chords. Up and down. He started
doing fretboard walkups.

It was only a few minutes later when there was a knock at his door.

“Sybil I’m not even being that loud.” Draco called back.

There was a pause then a harder knock. He stumbled over to the door.

“I swear, Sybil, guitar music can’t disrupt whatever tea reading you’re doing.” He yanked
open the door. “Granger?”
 Legilimens

“Granger.” Draco choked out. “What are you doing here?”

Hermione looked up at him with wide hazelnut coloured eyes and hesitated. “I wanted to
make sure you were ok.”

Draco nodded. “I’m fine.”

Hermione nodded, then gestured to his room. “May I come in?”

“You want to come in?” It was closer to a prayer than a question.

“Yes.” Her curls bobbed as she nodded her head.

Draco moved across the room to place the guitar in its stand and then looked around the
room. It was filled with stacks of paper. Five or six rewrites of different chapters of the
advanced potions making text. Letters to friends and colleagues. He sighed and pulled out his
wand, waving it in a complex pattern.

charta ordinatio

The stacks of paper raised themselves up and moved against the wall, organising themselves
by chapter and pulling all of his notes to the proper positions.

Granger’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “You have got to teach me that one. Where’d
you find it?”

Draco shrugged. He’d invented it during exam week in his second year at university.

Granger was now circling the outside of the room. “Who’s this?”

He looked over at where she was pointing. “That’s Joey.” He smiled. “He’s the son of a
friend of mine from university.” Joey’s photo was in the middle of a collage frame of his
university days. Him with an arm around Martina and finishing off a pint at the pub. Him at
the pub quiz with his team. The rowing crew. Martina and Pierre’s wedding. His doctoral
portrait. None of the pictures were moving. She moved to the sofa and sat down and Draco
collapsed onto the chair, his back ramrod straight, keeping the coffee table between them like
a shield.

He waited. Why wasn’t she saying anything? He looked down and blushed. He started
pulling down the sleeve of his shirt, back down over the Dark Mark. He fumbled with the
cufflink and the French cuffs, finally pulling the sleeve straight. Then he started on his right
arm. “I’m sorry.” He huffed. “It was so warm in Hog’s Head. They don’t mind it there and…
well… I apologise.” He interlaced his fingers and rested them over his knee. He took a deep
breath in. “It’s always there, Granger. Always.”
They sat and stared at each other. Finally Draco stood up. “I don’t know why you’re here but
a cup of tea would do me wonders.” He began the easy routine of making tea. Boiling the
water in the kettle with a quick spell. Measuring the tea. Steeping. Pouring. He splashed a
daub of cream into Hermione’s cup, added a sugar and poured. Then he made a black cup for
himself.

Hermione looked over. “No lemons today?”

He made a gesture to the tea tray, devoid of lemon and busied himself with his saucer.

And they waited. Staring at each other. Draco broke first. “What is it Granger?” He
whispered. “Why are you here when you could be out with someone much more congenial?”

Hermione snorted. “Oliver Wood may be handsome but he hasn’t a thing to say about
anything that isn’t Quidditch.”

Draco broke out into a smile. “Ah.” He turned his cup round the saucer and took a sip. “How
may I be of service then?”

Hermione leaned forward. “What was in that potion you gave me? And why?”

At this Draco sat up even straighter. “Belladonna, rose thorns, moonstone, pearl dust, lentian
vine and powdered bezoar.”

There was a thoughtful expression on Hermione’s face that Draco couldn’t place. “So an
antidote, then?”

“Yes.”

Hermione looked at him. “And why was this antidote necessary?”

He blushed and looked abashed. “When the flask exploded in the lab it linked our dreams.
This severed the connection.” Squirming in his seat he tried to look anywhere but the woman
who was staring at him from the couch.

“Ah.” She took a sip of tea. “Don’t you think you should have talked to me about this first?”

A loud noise escaped his nose. “I don’t think so. I can’t imagine the link was any more
pleasant for you, Granger.”

“Why do you call me that?” asked Hermione. She was looking more serious than he’d ever
seen her. Draco sat still, contemplating the question, which Hermione took as an offer to keep
talking. “I’d much prefer it if we called each other by our first names.”

“Granger, I’m not sure if you know this but the only times we’ve ever touched each other
were in violence.” She looked shocked. “You slapped me in the face for being a git about that
bloody hippogryph, I’ve shoved you, tripped you, insulted you and I grabbed you in
Umbridge’s office. Then while my Aunt had you pinned to the manor floor.” His voice had
risen, and he made a visible effort to calm himself. “I have no illusions about how you feel
about me Hermione .” He finished with a shadow of his natural sneer. His hands were starting
to shake again. He spilt some tea into his saucer as he tried to get the cup down on the table.

Which was when Hermione reached out for the saucer with one hand and gabbed his wrist
with her other and every Occlumency shield he’d ever tried to build sprang up all at once.

******

Hermione wasn’t quite sure what happened. One moment she’d been reaching for the teacup
so it wouldn’t spill and the next Malfoy’s face had calmed to an almost worrying degree right
before his eyes had rolled back in his head and he’d started seizing on the floor. Ugly red
bolts of unintended magic flew off of him, incinerating some of the stacks of paper and
slicing the chair he’d been sitting on in half. His skin seemed to glow from underneath as his
back arched so far she thought it would break. What was worse was the screaming. It just
didn’t seem to stop.

protego

That would at least keep her safe.

introitus

The containment spell around him.

Hermione thought quickly. She needed more help.

expecto patronum

“Harry, something’s wrong with Draco. Meet me in the infirmary”

locomotor Malfoy

Hermione lifted him and rushed him off. Down the corridors sweeping aside students leaving
the Hallowe’en celebrations in the Great Hall. Draco was still seizing and he was beginning
to foam at the mouth, writhing in the air under Hermione’s worried eyes. Just as she reached
the infirmary Harry appeared. His Han Solo costume in disarray he took one look at Malfoy
and summoned his own patronus.

expecto patronum

His stag burst from the end of his wand and waited expectantly. “Narcissa. Hogwarts
infirmary. He’s worse this time.”

Harry cast his own containment spell and nodded towards an unoccupied bed. The red lines
of magic were still radiating off of Draco, shredding his clothes to ribbons. The magic was so
hard to contain. Every time they had pushed back against one tendril another burst forth
trying to escape the confinement spell. Hermione saw a flurry of movement beside her and
saw that McGonagall, housecoat and all, stood beside her helping contain Malfoy above the
bed.
Which was when Narcissa arrived, still in pyjamas and a thick robe, her hair streaming
behind her.

She stood next to where Draco writhed.

legilimens

Narcissa started to glow white and her magic reached out to where Draco strained against
them. It absorbed and pushed back until his head was wreathed in his mother’s light. That, at
least, was when the screaming stopped.

Hermione’s ears rang as she continued to hold the containment spell. It took minutes for
Narcissa to finally signal that they could release the containment and rest. Harry stepped
backwards, pulling McGonagall and Hermione along with him. They left Narcissa sitting in
the chair next to Draco’s head.

Harry rounded on Hermione. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean ‘what did I do?’” Hermione snapped back. “What the hell just
happened?”

McGonagall put up her hands to calm both the younger professors down. “The last time
something like this happened he had finally gone to the top of the Astronomy Tower. We
were quite lucky that Potter was with him at the time and Malfoy himself was able to contain
it.” She nodded in Hermione’s direction. “That was how we got the new telescope. Malfoy
was quite embarrassed about the whole thing and insisted on replacing it.”

Harry sighed. “It’s what happens when he tries to occlude, Hermione. The war wasn’t kind to
him either.”

Hermione blew out her breath. “We were just talking. In his quarters.”

McGonagall and Harry just stared at her. “And what, precisely, were you talking about?”
Sniffed McGonagall.

Hermione thought hard. “I’d asked him to use my first name when we spoke, and he… he
told me that he’d never been kind to me. I… He mentioned his Aunt. The manor. He was
having trouble putting his cup down on the table. I think I touched his wrist.”

Harry nodded. “That would do it then.”

She stared across the ward at Draco. “So he was trying to occlude? Why?”

McGonagall chose that moment to interrupt. “I, for one, am planning to go back to bed. I’m
far too old to be dragged out to the hospital wing in the middle of the night. Potter, I’ll speak
to the heads of houses and the head boy and girl before I go back to bed. Many students were
quite frightened by Malfoy’s appearance in the hallways.” She sniffed and hurried to the
infirmary doors. As she left Hermione could see a crowd of students in the hallway peering
around the doors as they swung shut.
Harry slumped down on a chair and pulled her down on its companion. “Have a seat. This
might take some time.” Harry was staring across the ward at where Narcissa was still
working on Malfoy, concern written over every line. “We wouldn’t have won without him,
you know.”

Hermione nodded. “True. Narcissa made sure to lie to the Dark Lord for him.”

Harry shook his head. “More than that.”

“Will you tell me about it?” Hermione asked with a wheedling tone.

“No. I promised.”

“Harry Potter.” Harry dragged his eyes away from Malfoy to Hermione. “What, exactly, did
Malfoy do? It’s not anywhere in any book on the subject.”

Harry sighed. “You’d do well to ask Malfoy.” He winced. “I made an unbreakable vow.”

Hermione shuddered. “What were you thinking?” She hissed.

Narcissa interrupted them. “He was thinking of the life debt he owed me.” Both sets of eyes
snapped to her. Narcissa looked exhausted. “He definitely won’t wake until morning but his
mind is still intact. Will you watch over him, Harry?” Harry nodded. “Miss Granger. I would
be lying if I said it was nice to see you under these circumstances.” Her expression softened
somewhat. “Perhaps you could pop by the manor for tea sometime soon. Would next
weekend suit?”

Hermione blinked at Narcissa in confusion. “Next weekend.”

A nod. “Three o’clock. We will be in the conservatory. It’s so pleasant there this time of
year.” Then to Harry. “I’ll be going now, Harry. You’ll call me if he needs me when he
wakes?” Narcissa swept away.

Harry and Hermione moved closer to Draco’s bed. The sheet was pulled up over his lower
body but his face seemed pinched, his breathing shallow, and the scars that criss crossed his
shoulders and arms were an angry red. The Dark Mark, which had been a light charcoal at the
Hog’s Head earlier that evening, was now an inky black that stood out horribly on the pale
skin of his arm.

Harry scraped a chair over to the foot of the bed and settled himself in. “It’s late, Hermione.
He won’t wake anytime soon. Why don’t you get some sleep? You look awful.”

Hermione would have argued with him but exhaustion was catching up with her. It was
nearly one in the morning. She dragged herself back to her rooms in a cloud of confusion and
crawled under the blankets, and was almost asleep before her head hit the pillow.
 Expecto Patronum

Hermione awoke Sunday morning to a castle abuzz with rumours and Rose outside the
teacher’s quarters door demanding to be allowed inside. Hermione let her into the teacher’s
common room where Rose, clad in her robe and slippers and hair going off in ten different
directions, glared daggers at her sister.

“Did you kill Professor Malfoy?” Hermione shook her head dumbly. “Because that’s what all
the students were saying. We barely got back to the common room last night when the fourth
years came back from the Great Hall because you were running through the halls torturing
him in a giant red bubble.” Rose shivered. “We could hear the screams everywhere, Mimum.
Even the Slytherins in the dungeons heard.”

Hermione shook her head. “He had some sort of attack. I don’t know why.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Get dressed. Of the two of us only you might be able to get into the
hospital wing so I can find out if he is ok. I have nearly a hundred Ravenclaws breathing
down my neck. No one can get in and those that tried with skiving snackboxes were seen in
the hallway and run straight back to their dormitories.”

Hermione found herself bundled back into her rooms and forced into her bathroom by a very
indignant Rose. She took her time getting herself together and collecting her thoughts
carefully. Why had Malfoy needed to occlude so badly last night that he’d nearly blown up
his rooms with accidental magic?

She found herself slowly piecing thoughts together as she combed out her curls, adding in a
conditioning charm to help them stop frizzing quite so badly. He’d slipped her an antidote
because their dreams had been linked. She dropped her comb into the sink, the fingers feeling
nerveless.

That mystery man in her dreams. Was it Malfoy? The one who had praised her, kissed her
senseless and driven her absolutely mad with… she gasped into the mirror. She saw her eyes
bright and wide staring back at her. He had needed to occlude. Why?

******

Draco woke up feeling as though every nerve in his body were on fire. He carefully tried to
move his pinky finger and nearly wept in pain. He gently opened his right eye, noting the
figure that was asleep and whose arms were flung across half the foot of his bed. Harry’s hair
had always had a life of its own but Draco was sorely tempted in that moment to hold Potter
down and pour sleekeasy’s over his head. If it wouldn’t have been impossible at the moment
that is.

“Potter?” His voice sounded raspy.

Harry started awake, giving Draco a smile and immediately cast a patronus. “Narcissa, he’s
awake.” The stag cantered off down the row of beds and out through the wall. “Don’t try and
move, Draco. It’ll just end badly. I’m under strict orders from your mother to keep you in this
bed until she gets back and, to be perfectly honest, Narcissa sometimes scares me more than
Voldemort ever did.”

Draco gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“You’ll be pleased to know that you are a beloved professor here and there was nearly a riot
outside the doors this morning because a good third of the student body was convinced that
Hermione had murdered you. If you’re worried about her coming to visit she’s already been
and gone this morning. She says she’s very sorry for whatever she did that set you off.”
Harry’s voice got very serious. “She said she just touched your wrist.”

Another nod came from Draco.

Harry snorted. “You blew up your room because a pretty girl touched your wrist, Draco. Your
wrist. You have to start talking to her.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and winced.

“No no no. I’m taking advantage of the fact that you can’t fight back right now. I’m under the
unbreakable vow but your mother is not. She invited Hermione over for tea on Saturday
afternoon. What do you think she’s going to tell her? You need to grow the hell up, Draco.
Hermione doesn’t let anything go. It’s one of her most annoying traits.” He slumped back
into his chair. “She should have been an Auror. Not a single dark wizard would have gotten
past her.”

A faint whoosh came from the fireplace at the end of the ward and Narcissa stepped out.
Unlike the night before she was impeccably dressed head to toe. She moved with purpose to
Draco’s bed and glared down at him. “How dare you?” Her voice was low, venomous.

Harry raised a hand. “He’s in a lot of pain, Narcissa. They’ve given him the maximum doses
of dittany and Pomfrey’s charms still have him lighting up like a Christmas tree.” Harry’s
voice trailed off as Narcissa turned her glare towards him.

“What, exactly, are you dressed up as?” She looked him over head to toe.

Harry grumbled, looking abashed. “A character from a muggle movie. No one knew who we
were at the Three Broomsticks last night either.”

“Perhaps you should go and put yourself together again, Harry. Thank you for watching over
Draco last night. The magic took quite a bit out of me and I’m not as young as I once was.”
She nodded at Harry who wisely took the dismissal for what it was, nodding to Draco and
mouthing “tell her” on his way out the door until he was cut off by the look on Narcissa’s
face.

Turning back to Draco Narcissa sniffed and gracefully sat down where Harry had just so
recently been sprawled. He closed his eyes again. The light, though dim, was still too bright.
“Thank you mother.”
A snort sniff rose from the chair next to his bed. Narcissa’s voice was tight and controlled.
“Every time you do this it becomes not only more dangerous for you but also for me. You
incinerated your room. If Miss Granger hadn’t been there to contain you you could have
seriously hurt either your colleagues or some of your students. We are no longer at war. I
never wanted you to learn occlumency to begin with and yet…” Her voice was ragged. “It’s
just the two of us left, Dragon. I can’t lose you.”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. His mother always knew how to cut right to the heart of the
matter. He could feel her eyes on him. “You are not the only one who was tortured by the
Dark Lord, Draco. It is time to deal with what you experienced rather than bury it. Why are
you so worried about obligating Miss Granger?” Draco sighed as his mother continued. “She
seems to be a witch who knows her own mind. At least you’ll know whether she reciprocates
and if you need to deal with your own love or can find it matched in her.”

Narcissa reached out a hand and stroked his forehead. “Draco, you have made many
mistakes, but loving Miss Granger was never one of them.”

******

It was Thursday before Hermione heard any more about Malfoy. Harry had been to visit him
every day but had asked Hermione to wait until Draco had been ready to talk to her.
Hermione had never been good at waiting. McGonagall had given him the week to rest and
recuperate after his accidental magic so she was surprised to see him pass the Great Hall
doors on his way to the classrooms just after lunch.

He wasn’t moving with the same rapidity that he normally did, and he was paler than normal
which with his natural colouring was distressing. He was also moving stiffly, as though his
muscles were still adjusting. She followed as he passed the charms classroom and headed
down the corridor towards Harry’s classroom. She missed his entrance, but heard the low
cheers from the students as he entered. Hermione lingered outside the door, one eye peeking
around the frame and eavesdropping like a child who was worried about being sent back to
bed.

Draco was at the front of the classroom on a stool with Harry standing next to him. On the
board behind them were the words ‘expecto patronum’. Harry was in his element with his
NEWT students.

“Class, for the NEWT exam a pass is a non-corporeal patronus. That means a misty, vaporous
blah that will shield you from a dementor. However, if you want to be able to drive a
dementor away or counter multiple dark spells at once and save yourself you will need to cast
a corporeal patronus, which is the standard I set for all of my students.” He looked over the
class and read the determination in their eyes. “What is important to remember is that love
and happiness are that which drives a dementor away. What you’re searching for is a truly
happy memory. Something that not only speaks to your mind but to your soul. I’m teaching
this to you now in sixth year so that you will have the maximum amount of time to practise
before you sit for your NEWT. If you can’t think of a truly happy memory you need to think
of a person you love and focus on their happiness.” He set his feet wide and cast the charm.

expecto patronum
The silver stag burst forth from the end of Harry’s wand, happily prancing about the
classroom. The students oohed and aahed and one brave Hufflepuff tried to pet its muzzle.

Harry continued. “A patronus can also take messages to people, speaking in your voice. They
move quicker than an owl and can be relied upon to deliver your message directly to the
person you’re thinking of.” A quick wave of his wand and his stag disappeared. “What’s
really interesting about patronuses is that they take their form from your very soul. You may
think you know what kind of creature will come out but you don’t know until you first cast it.
You might think my mighty stag is amazingly powerful, but Professor Malfoy’s patronus is
actually slightly more powerful than mine. Mine is powered by memories, but Professor
Malfoy’s is only powered through love, which can be more powerful than any forbidden
curse. Can anyone guess the shape of his?”

Hands reached into the air and guesses rained down on the front of the classroom. Dragon
was a popular guess, then a wide variety of snakes and predators. Draco had an odd-looking
smile on his face and Hermione tilted her head to the side.

She thought that the only death eater who could cast a patronus was Snape. He who had left
the Dark Lord for love.

Harry quieted the class down and nodded towards Draco. He closed his eyes and recited the
incantation. Out of the end of his wand came a small, furry, writhing animal, who swam
about the classroom doing loop-de-loops around the students’ heads before finally resting on
the front desk, flipping itself over and worrying it’s nose into the wood. “Yes class, the
mighty otter. Far more effective than my lowly stag." The class burst into laughter while
Hermione gave a strangled gasp.

Draco’s eyes snapped to hers, widening in shock, and the lively otter that had so delighted the
classroom disappeared. “Hermione.” He jumped off the stool, wobbling a little, moving
towards the door on unsteady legs. She stood rooted to the spot, still staring at where the otter
had been. Draco filled the doorway, leaning against the frame for support, paler than he’d
been in the hospital on Sunday morning.

She stared up at him as his face, full of concern, tried to start a sentence several times and
then gave up.

“I will come by your room before dinner tonight. We need to talk.” Hermione said quietly.

He nodded.

Hermione stared at him for a long moment before turning and heading back to her own
classroom, where her third year students would be meeting in less than fifteen minutes.

Behind her she could hear Harry asking Draco if he was alright. His answer floated down the
hallway after her. "See, Potter? I told you I was well enough to cast it."
 Before Dinner

Draco stood in his quarters. He was damned lucky for three reasons: Hogwarts was made of
stone; his mother had been able to send over his old furniture from the manor to refurnish his
sitting room on Monday morning with Neville and Luna helping; and Hermione Granger was
coming over. As an added bonus his publisher had sent over new copies of the galleys with
an admonishment to look after his health. Apparently incinerating your notes with accidental
magic scared editors. He was working himself up into a nervous state.

“Before dinner” was horrendously vague. What time did she actually mean? Harry stood
behind him as he fussed over his hair in the mirror. “You have got to calm down, Draco.”

Draco laughed helplessly. “Calm down? Really? Hermione Granger is coming here to talk
about feelings and you think I’m going to calm down? I’ve already taken the maximum dose
of calming draught for this conversation. Really, Potter?” He gingerly lowered himself into
his armchair. “I’ve never been good at this.” He picked listlessly at his waistcoat.

Harry stared at Draco as though he’d gone mad. “You look fine. Hermione stayed with me in
a tent without running water for a year.”

A short bark of laughter escaped Draco. “I couldn’t have done it.” He looked darkly at Harry
over his glasses. “I mean it, Potter. Running water is a minimum for civilization.”

Harry rolled his eyes back at Draco and set down the tea tray. “At least you have lemon slices
now, like the spoiled arrogant toff you always were.”

A groan was all that Harry got in reply. Draco was still stiff and sore from Hallowe’en night.
Every muscle ached and he could still feel that his magic was jangling in his veins rather than
the smooth flow he normally had. It had taken some convincing and a casting in his quarters
for Potter to agree to have him appear in his defence class earlier that day. “Thank you for
volunteering to stay for this tonight. Remind me later that I owe Ginny a favour.” He arched
an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “Where did you eventually find Lily this morning?”

Harry laughed. “The attic. Still don’t know how she got up there.” Draco smiled in fondness
for the tot. Lily was truly giving her parents a run for their galleons. At least twice a week
they couldn’t find her where they’d put her. Attic, basement, cellar and once in the plum tree
outside. Draco had great hope for that one’s magicality.

The knock on the door was soft but both Harry and Draco’s heads swivelled to stare at it.
Harry gestured to Draco, who shook his head. “I’m still injured, Potter. Unlike the
hippogryph I’m sure you believe this one.” Harry rolled his eyes and answered the door to a
bemused Hermione.

Harry gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be staying out in the common room
in case you guys need me.” Hermione nodded and closed the door.
Draco cleared his throat. “Forgive me for not standing up. I’m still… not doing well
physically.” He gestured to the pot. “Tea?” Hermione nodded and made up his cup and hers,
sitting back on the sofa, and raising the cup to her lips. “If you’d like some calming draught
I’ve made some up, it’s in the vial on the tray.”

Draco watched the cup. It was far safer than staring at her face.

The tension was broken when Hermione began to giggle. Draco whipped his head up and
stared unbelievingly at her as she tried and failed to control herself. It didn’t take Draco very
long to break too, a wide grin cracking across his face. “Please… we have to stop.” Draco
alternated between giggling and holding in his sides so he wouldn’t hurt himself.

Hermione wiped away a tear. “Two smart people and here we are staring at each other. I have
a confession, Draco, I’ve always been abysmal at relationships.”

Draco held his breath, shocked to his core. “Me too Granger.” She’d called him by his first
name. He wasn’t sure she’d ever done that before. “I don’t think I would have gotten even an
N for needs improvement. T for me I think.”

Hermione looked at him seriously. “Hermione, Draco. Hermione.”

He nodded back. “Right. Hermione.”

She looked slightly pleased with herself. “See? We’re doing better than Saturday night
already.”

Draco shoved his glasses further up his nose. “My apologies. I never intended to… well…”

“Blow up your room?” Hermione finished helpfully.

“Right.” Draco stared down into his tea cup. The mood grew chilly.

“If I ask you questions, is it going to happen again?”

Draco shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it won’t. It happens when I try to occlude, and I’m on
calming draught.”

Hermione’s eyes pierced him. “Why does it happen?”

“How much do you know about occlumency?” Her eyes narrowed. “If I know how much you
know I can build on it rather than spending time on things you understand already.”

Hermione nodded tightly. “I know that Snape tried to teach Harry but Harry was dreadful at
it, so much so that Voldemort was able to insert thoughts into Harry’s mind. I know that
Snape was good at it because Voldemort was a legilimens, and a very good one at that. I
know that occlumency requires that you seal away some thoughts but allow others through so
that the legilimens doesn’t realise you’re hiding the truth.”

Draco nodded. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Hermione raised a hand and gestured that he should keep going.

“Dumbledore set up the elder wand as a shell game for Potter. I disarmed him, then Snape
killed him, even though the curse on his hand would have killed him soon. My part was to
engineer a situation where I could lose to Potter somehow, thereby making him the wand’s
master. Harry saying Voldemort’s name and calling the snatchers was actually quite helpful in
the long run as far as that was concerned.” Hermione nodded, and Draco continued quietly.
“After you three escaped the manor the Dark Lord knew something was very wrong. You had
started killing horcruxes, and he was angry. Very very angry. He decided that I knew
something.” Draco’s eyes were becoming slightly unfocused. “I mean, why else would Potter
have gotten that handful of wands? How else could you have escaped? So I became the loci
of his anger. My father was useless and my mother was far too valuable in organising the
other Death Eaters. Have you heard of flaying?” Hermione nodded as Draco got quieter. “He
would torture me with the Cruciatus curse. It’s awful, and hell on an occlumens when
combined with legilimency. But I wouldn’t break and I couldn’t let him win, or he’d then be
the master of the elder wand because Harry hadn't touched it yet, and Potter would lose. I
couldn’t tell him about Potter. About Snape. About the wand. About you and why I turned
against him. So I held.” He shrugged. “Then he started bringing in other Death Eaters - often
my oh-so-lovely Aunt - and he would have them flay me as he used the Cruciatus curse and
went into my mind. They made my mother watch it. Magic healing working with torture to
keep me conscious for as long as possible and rennervating me if I passed out. And I ...”
Hermione went to stand up and Draco held out an arm. “No. Almost done.” She sat back
down.

“That’s why Potter trusts me. Snape was there for one of the … sessions … and when Harry
saw other memories of me helping Snape … But those … that … it broke something inside
of me. I was always good at occlumency.” He said wistfully. “But now… if I try my magic
reacts from the torture and tries to attack whatever made me occlude in the first place. Hence
the destroyed Astronomy tower.” He looked back at Hermione. She looked sick. He tried to
smile and failed. “I’m glad you’re a good duelist. It could have easily…” he trailed off.
“Again, I’m on such a high dose of calming draught right now, so I probably couldn’t
occlude even if I wanted to.” He was trying to be reassuring and was failing miserably.

He took a sip of tea. Hermione mechanically mirrored him.

She stared at him. “Your scars?”

Draco nodded. “Almost every one. Except for the hippogryph claws and sectumsempora ones
from Harry.” Her expression changed to one of sympathy, and Draco cut her off. “Please
don’t.” He winced. “You know, most of our friends didn’t have these details. They just
accepted Harry’s word and measured my behaviour after the war. I don’t want your
sympathy, Hermione. I just…”

Silence filled the room between them.

“You should know…” he said nervously. “I made sure to release Potter from the vow
yesterday. No point any more. Not sure why we kept it after the first year or so. He's a very
trustworthy person you know.”
“Draco…” Hermione’s tone was measured. “How long has your patronus been an otter?”

“Always.”

“How long have you been able to cast one?”

Draco sighed and stared down at his shoes. “Since fifth year.”

“And you’re sure you can’t occlude right now?”

“I shouldn’t be able to… why?” He lifted his head as he saw her step towards him, lean down
and kiss him. For a moment he sat stunned. Hermione Granger was kissing him. Willingly.
Knowing who he was. Then he gripped her elbows, pulling her in and deepening the kiss,
nibbling at her lower lip and gaining entry to her mouth as she gasped. The moment felt
endless and far too brief, and Hermione pulled away, leaving them both short of breath.

“Hermione, what are you doing?”

Hermione blushed and sat back down on the couch. “I… you saved us, didn’t you?”

“You don’t understand, Hermione.” He said as his lips twisted upwards. “ Potter saved us all.
You couldn’t have tortured me long enough to make me walk into the woods and confront the
Dark Lord with nothing. I’m just a stubborn bastard.”

She responded with a shrug. “Harry likes to call it a group effort.” She bit her lip. “Would
you show me the memory of my parents?”

“Anything for you.” replied Draco.

“I’ve missed them.” Whispered Hermione.

“I know you have. I really was sorry to hear of their passing.”

Hermione shook her head. “Not that. I mean, yes. But that wasn’t…” another blush coloured
her cheeks. “I meant the dreams.”

Draco responded as his eyes grew hungry. “Sadly not tonight, for multiple reasons.” He
ticked them up on his fingers. “Far too much calming draught, I’m still in a tremendous
amount of pain, I haven’t yet told you everything that I probably should, and I need to learn
to be around you without instinctually trying to occlude.”

Hermione’s brows knitted together. “How often have you occluded around me?”

A sigh escaped him. “Aside from the last few weeks? Every moment I spent around you
since the beginning of fifth year.”

******

Harry paced up and down in front of the fireplace in the common room. It had been over an
hour. At least nothing had exploded yet. He’d been able to distract himself by playing
wizard’s chess with Flitwick, but the little professor had wiped the floor with him thrice
before he decided that Harry wasn’t a suitable candidate as a chess partner and gone down for
dinner.

At least nothing had exploded yet. He heard a door open softly and saw Hermione quietly
leaving Draco’s rooms. She seemed unsteady. She gave Harry a tired smile.

“Thanks for coming, Harry.”

He looked her up and down. “I take it that he wasn’t able to occlude this time?”

“That’s right. He had to be drugged up to his ears to have a conversation with me. How did I
miss that when we were in school?” Hermione looked stricken and Harry put an arm around
her and led her to a comfortable settee.

“Because Draco had to have been one of the best occlumens of our generation. It’s almost a
pity that he can’t any more.” Harry replied patiently.

Hermione pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “They flayed him, Harry.”

He pulled her head under his chin. “I know. But don't treat him like he's fragile. He hates it
when people look at him like he’s some broken thing. It’s one of the reasons he made me
promise.”
 Narcissa

Hermione woke on Friday with a note from Draco that he’d gotten a reaction headache from
the night before and was going to spend the next few days recuperating. “Don’t worry,
Granger.” Read the note. “I’ve waited a long time just to talk with you, but McGonagall has
made quite specific threats against me attempting to burn down Hogwarts again, so I think it
best that I try and comply with her wishes.” She could almost see the sparkle in his eye as he
wrote the note, sliding it under her door before she’d woken up.

She drifted through the day, teaching her fourth and sixth year classes, then going back to the
common room to read. She was curled up in comfortable sweatpants and an old University of
Western Australia t-shirt and her old copy of Emma when Pansy stepped through the green
flames of the fire with another duffle bag full of clothes.

Hermione looked at her soberly.

“Harry told Ron who told me that you’re going to the manor tomorrow for tea with
Narcissa.” Pansy stated.

“Beg pardon?”

“Harry told Ron who told me that you’re going to the manor tomorrow for tea with
Narcissa.” Pansy said again, but slower.

Hermione nodded. She’d actually forgotten in all of the excitement. “And…?”

Pansy looked at her as though she were the stupidest person on Earth. “Are you planning to
wear teacher’s robes or whatever muggle monstrosities you’re wearing to the ancient manor
house of the heirs of Malfoy?”

Hermione blinked. “I’m guessing that that bag is full of robes you’d rather I wear?”

Pansy grinned ear to ear. “You catch on quick, Hermione.” She looked at her watch then
back. “Chop chop, Granger. I only have about forty-five minutes before I have to get back
home or Ron and the twins will burn it to cinders!”

******

Pansy may have meant well, but her insistence on dressing up Hermione for this visit had
only made her more nervous. She’d never truly met the Malfoy matriarch, but she knew she
was formidable. She was one of the few people who had ever successfully lied to Voldemort.
Yet here she was, standing at the fireplace, throwing in a handful of floo powder and calling
out “Malfoy Manor” and stepping through bravely, as though she hadn’t been tortured there.

Narcissa was waiting, still as a statue, seated in a chair facing the fireplace. She seemed
completely composed, ready to receive muggleborn witches out of her fireplace whenever
they appeared. Not a hair was out of place and her tea-length robes were perfectly pressed
and creased in an icy green that flattered her pale complexion. Hermione was thankful to
Pansy for bringing by the dresses yesterday, having chosen a charcoal wrap dress that didn’t
look completely out of place either in the manor or next to Narcissa.

“Lady Malfoy.” Hermione said, giving a short bob.

Narcissa rose gracefully and closed the distance between them quickly. She took Hermione’s
hand between hers and squeezed it gently. “Narcissa, Hermione. I insist.” Narcissa stepped
back a pace and gestured. “Welcome to our library.”

Hermione looked around. The manor library was huge. At least the size of the Hogwarts
library. Her mind spun and she wondered idly if they had a copy of Richard Crumbley’s
Runic Translations - she’d never held a copy but a lot of footnotes pointed to that book. She
shook her head.

“Lady…” she stopped herself as she saw her companion frown. “Narcissa, I thought the floo
entrance was in the parlour.”

Narcissa’s expression grew tight. “That was the first place Draco had an attack. It no longer
exists as it was when you were brought here. The conservatory is this way.”

Hermione followed Narcissa through the hallways and galleries on the way to the
conservatory. She noticed they were taking a circuitous route, but she could feel the evil
radiating off of that section of the manor. It must be where Voldemort had been. They finally
arrived at the conservatory and Narcissa led them to a pair of rattan chairs with a heavily
laden tea set in between.

“Has the… presence in the manor gotten better over the years since the war?”

Narcissa pinned her to her seat with her gaze. “Yes. I’ve been working at scrubbing his filth
off the manor. It’s the only thing that has kept my son from selling it to muggles.” She
thoughtfully poured the tea. “I’m certain that it will be finished in two to three more years.
You are lucky that you were not here even a few months ago.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing since the war, Narcissa?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Yes.” Replied Narcissa simply. “It also behooved us to make sure there were no final
horcruxes here. And there aren’t any.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s good to know. I have no intention of fighting another war.” She
took a sip of tea. “Narcissa, you asked me to come here. The finger sandwiches look
delicious but I’m not sure why I’m here while you enjoy them.”

“That is an excellent question. Draco did say you were good at cutting straight through when
asking them.” Narcissa gave a faint smile as she took a palmier off the tray. “In the spirit of
forthright questions and answers, I asked you here to talk about blood magic.” Hermione felt
as though she’d swallowed her tongue as Narcissa picked up the plate of palmiers and held it
out to her. “You should try one of these, they’re quite good.”
It took Hermione a short while to compose herself, during which time Narcissa had daintily
eaten her way through almost half the three tiers, adding clotted cream and a richly red jam to
her scone and crunching on a delicate quiche.

“Narcissa, why do we need to talk about blood magic?” Hermione asked cautiously. “Has it
something to do with the manor?”

The older lady considered the question for a moment before replying carefully. “Somewhat.
Finish your tea before we go and have a look.” Her face almost seemed too calm to
Hermione.

“Narcissa, are you occluding right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because what I’m going to show you is upsetting to me, and has been so for a long time.”
The words came out in a measured way, and without emotion. “I appreciate you being here. I
can only assume that you’ve come to at least care for Draco in some small way. At least
enough to come back here, which I’m sure was difficult.”

Hermione felt emotionally rocked. “Why are you being so honest with me?”

A cool gaze met Hermione’s. “Because I love my son, Hermione. He deserves happiness and
he has been quite poor at meeting his needs. If I lie to you now you won’t follow me down
that corridor in a few minutes. Sometimes the best manipulation is straight honesty.” Narcissa
tapped her fingertip against the rim of her saucer, then, bird like, took a sip of tea. “Being
honest with you has piqued your curiosity. Knowing that Mr. Potter trusts me has made you
braver in my presence because you’re sure I won’t hurt you. Legilimency is a weapon,
Hermione, and I have no compunctions when it comes to Draco’s safety.” Her cool blue eyes
met Hermione’s and she felt herself shudder deep in her soul. Narcissa's smile grew slightly
cruel. She pulled a muggle photograph out of an envelope and handed it to Hermione.
Narcissa gestured. “I didn’t find this until after the battle at Hogwarts. If I’d known what he
was planning…”

Hermione squinted. It was a wall that had been painted in blood runes. She started translating
despite herself. “Fidelity, honour, love, sacrifice, all together in a binding spell. Blood,
protection and family. There are hundreds of runes here. What is this Narcissa?"

Narcissa sniffed. “It’s why you three survived the battle.” Then a shudder. “Would you mind
terribly if we moved back to the library? I could take you to see it but... the only way to
capture it is with a muggle camera.” Narcissa reached out for Hermione’s hand. "Can you
help me break it?"

They walked in silence back to the library, Narcissa noticeably sagging. For a woman who
projected quiet strength it was disturbing to think of what she had been through. She settled
into a chair and motioned for Hermione to sit as well. “You have questions, please ask them.”
Hermione quickly started sorting information. “I take it that was in Draco’s room?” A nod
came from Narcissa. “And that he used his own blood to paint those runes and the runes have
something to do with why Harry, Ron and I got through the battle without being seriously
injured or harmed?” Another nod.

“What does that have to do with Draco?”

Narcissa straightened herself in her chair. “He bound himself to you, Hermione. You, Harry
and Ron. Every time they tortured him he added a layer of blood protection to the three of
you. He was desperately worried that he would break, the Dark Lord would succeed in
becoming the master of the elder wand, and that Dumbledore’s plan would fail.”

Hermione grew quiet. “Why do you want to break them? That can rebound on everyone
involved in the spell, and especially the castor.”

Narcissa thought about the question, allowing the moment to stretch between the two women.
“Draco is insistant that the manor be sold. I agree with him on that, in theory. That, however,
can not be left here unchecked. Draco bound himself and our ancestral magic to you three
magically.” She cooly stared across at Hermione. “He bound himself to you especially, dear.
If he hadn’t survived the final battle you would have been heir to the Malfoy estate.” Narcissa
stated it boldly, matter-of-factly, like she was describing the weather outside. “Every ward in
this manor is open to you, the magic recognizes you as family.” Her voice cracked. "I can't
leave something that dangerous without supervision. We need to find a way to move it or
unmake, though all magical and muggle methods so far have failed. Draco can't figure out
what he did either. It was all instinctual, primative magic, made with blood runes."

Narcissa busied herself getting out her handkerchief and putting herself back together while
Hermione sat stunned in the vast library.

“I was quite lucky, you know.” said Narcissa. Hermione looked at her dumbly. “Harry came
to see me the day after the battle. I’d saved his life and that boy never wanted to have a life-
debt hanging over his head. Draco was in Azkaban, all ready to be kissed by a dementor. I
don’t think he really wanted to survive Hogwarts. Harry got him out, brought him back to
me.” She gave a short snort. “We might be more formal, but I love my son, Hermione.”

Narcissa tilted her head to look through Hermione. “Blinkin.” With a crack a house elf
appeared. “Please get Miss Granger a calming draught. She is going to need some processing
time.”

Blinkin bowed so low his ears brushed the floor. “I am always happy to help the young
Mistress.”

Hermione took the calming draught and slumped down on the couch. Just a few moments.
She needed to close her eyes. Just for a moment.

******

Narcissa looked down at Hermione’s sleeping form. She gave orders to Blinkin to watch over
the girl and went to lie down herself. Every joint in her mind ached with the legilimency
she’d performed over the past hour. She wasn’t as young as she once was. Sitting at the desk
in her room she carefully wrote a short note to Draco, to be delivered by owl once Miss
Granger was near to waking from her nap.

She smiled.

They had quite a bit to talk about.

 Catharsis

Draco paced before the library fireplace. He’d been enjoying a leisurely evening with Ginny
and Harry, helping teach the boys how to fly on their little toy broomsticks. Somehow Albus’
broom always seemed to get misplaced only to be found in the bassinet next to an
increasingly upset Lily. Then his mother’s owl had arrived.

Draco read the note, whitened and passed it to Harry. “It’s finally going to happen Harry.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m going to have to raze the manor to the ground.”

Harry grabbed his elbow. “Your mother… she means well. I’m sure Hermione is fine.”

Draco shook his head. He made his apologies to Ginny, and apparated away. It was a three
jump apparition, but still faster than running back to Hogwarts to access the floo.

He spun back into existence in the library, where he found his mother sitting at the desk and
writing.

She stood, extending her arms. “Welcome back Draco.”

Draco glared. “Where is she?”

Narcissa fluttered a hand behind herself. “Somewhere lost in the stacks I imagine. She’s
feeling much better now.”

“Why did you feel the need to show her… that?” spat Draco through gritted teeth, but feeling
the fight run out of him. His mother had that kind of effect on people.

Narcissa looked at him seriously. “Draco. Surely you recognized the state you left that poor
girl in Thursday.” She rubbed her temples as he tersely shook his head no. “Merlin. Sit
down.” She took his elbow and arranged him on the couch. “Draco. You had a burst of
accidental magic that nearly killed Hermione. Then you had to be rescued by your mother of
all people. I don’t think she’s seen me use magic since the Battle of Hogwarts, which brought
up all of those emotions. Then you told her about how you were flayed, tortured and nearly
killed because of herself, Harry and Ron. Then you kissed her. You linked dreams with her
for nearly three weeks doing all sorts of things you’d like me not to know about before you
could finally find an antidote which you got her to take without telling her what she was
taking . You showed her your patronus, practically declaring that you love her to the point
where your soul created something that matched hers. And you’ve had to be drugged to the
gills to have a halfway decent discussion. Did I miss anything?”

Draco shook his head dumbly.

“That poor girl has been stirred about by her emotions for months now because you have an
alarming lack of ability in conversation and the emotional depth of a teaspoon - which I
blame your father for - she needed a release. Especially since you haven’t given her one.”
Narcissa sniffed in disgust as Draco blushed. “You haven’t even told her you love her. She
got to feel your energy in that room. See its purity. She needed to know, Draco, the depths of
your feelings towards her and be able to have a place to start sorting out her feelings. It’s one
of the few good things I can do for her as a legilimens. She’s had a nap, I’ve helped her sort
her emotions and memories into boxes to unpack, and she’s ready to go home. It’s called
catharsis, dear. You might want to try it sometime. She was nearly ready when she showed up
for tea and just needed a push. Now, how about a nightcap before you two go back to
school?”

Draco stared at his mother.

She took pity on him. “Why don’t you go and ask Hermione if you can help her carry her
books out. I think she’s in the Runes section on the third floor. I’ll sort out some drinks and
we will meet back here in say, twenty minutes or so? Go on.” She shooed him towards the
staircase.

He started up the stairs towards the third floor aswirl inside of himself. He’d been so wrapped
up in what he was feeling he’d barely considered what she might have been going through
emotionally all this time. His long legs took him up while he heard his mother chatting with
Blinkin and organising nightcaps. The runes section of the library was off in a corner of the
third floor, almost as far away from the reading couches by the fire as it was possible to go.

“Hermione?” he called as he approached the section.

Her head popped around the corner of a bookcase. “You made me jump, Draco.” She looked
a bit peaked and tired, but more solid than she’d been on Thursday.

“Mother sent me up to help you with your books.” He leaned onto the bookcase in what he
hoped was a casual manner.

Hermione looked like she was biting back a smile. “Well, apparently they’re all my books
anyways, and your mother has given me a project.”

“Could have been your books. I survived the war, you see.” He reached out and tucked a curl
behind her ear. Hermione leaned in to his touch and sighed.

“We have a lot to talk about Draco. You know that, right?” she asked.

He nodded back at her. “I do know that.”

“Your mother was in my head. It was a very weird feeling.” Hermione added another book
onto her stack.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I sometimes feel like she has a guest room already made up
in mine for when she’d like to visit. Which she does, and often without invitation” he replied
with a sigh. With a gesture to the stack of books. “May I?”
Hermione nodded as he picked up the books, holding them on his chest. “Did you know that
the majority of books up here are first editions?”

Draco smiled at her. “I don’t think mother knows how to buy books that aren’t.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’d better not keep her waiting. We could wake up tomorrow
believing we’re plants or something.”

He laughed as he led her down the stairs. “Perhaps. But at least then Neville would tend to us
and we’d be very happy in our pots.”

Narcissa had been correct. It was a quick nightcap. Then back to Hogwarts through the floo.
Draco made sure that he carried Hermione’s books right up to her door. She took the stack
and floated them into her rooms and set them down on a low table and turned back to look at
him. She reached out for a hand, hesitating to touch him.

Which was when Draco reached out, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing the back
of it. He let her go. “Good night, Hermione. Would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow
morning?” She nodded, then pulled away, quickly stepping inside and closing the door.

******

Hermione slumped against the door after she closed it. Her hand felt like it was burning
where he’d kissed it. It tracked, though, that the first voluntary touch Draco had made was a
kiss on the back of her hand.

She rubbed her temples. Narcissa had done an impeccable job. All her emotions seemed to be
sitting in a line of easiest to deal with to hardest with tags attached on how best to deal with
them. It was hard to reconcile the two Dracos in her head.

The pompous git who mocked her, called her mudblood and was cruel to her for the sheer joy
of it.

The man who’d been through as much as she had during the war and who, though still feeling
the reverberations, was working on bettering himself.

The man was winning, and it frightened her at a deep level. She’d never had a true adult
relationship. There had been a few muggles as she went through university. Ron and his
intense mood swings. But nothing longer than a few months. She’d mooned over Ron at
school, more in love with the idea of being in love than understanding the person that she
wanted.

Draco was serious. He noted everything. He remembered how she’d taken her tea in school.
He remembered her birthday. A relationship with him would be more than she’d ever tried to
have with someone before. He’d been so wrapped up in the idea of her. What if the reality
fell short of his expectations?

She shook her head, desperately trying to clean out the cobwebs and sticky thoughts within.
She moved across the sitting room and into the bathroom. A deep bath. That was just what
she needed to scrub away the day. She sighed as she started the water running as she tallied
up all the changes that she’d made in her life the last few months.

She and Rose had moved to England. Rose had started Hogwarts and even though Hermione
got to see her every day Rose was caught up in Quidditch, studying and making new friends.
She’d readjusted to her friends, now adults with careers and, in Harry’s case, three new
humans to deal with. And Draco. She’d had to change a lot of her assumptions about him. So
much of what she knew was wrong. It was time to start truly challenging her preconceptions
to see if she and Draco could really make a go of it.

As she stripped and slipped into the hot water, turning off the tap with her toes she laughed
and started to sing to herself.

“Everything you know is wrong/Black is white, up is down and short is long/And everything
you thought/Was just so important doesn't matter/Everything you know is wrong/Just forget
the words and sing along/All you need to understand is/Everything you know is wrong.”

She giggled, wondering if Draco had lived long enough in the muggle world to have been
introduced to the music of Weird Al.
 Coffee

Hermione felt herself wake up slowly. Her head wasn’t pounding, and the bath had helped
her relax her muscles. She stretched and sat up, opening the curtains around her bed and
blinking at the sunlight streaming in through the window. The floors were like ice under her
feet and she added slippers to her mental shopping list, grumbling to herself about the
draftiness of the castle. Couldn’t they have fixed some of the leaks when they’d renovated
after the battle?

She pulled on a pair of jeans and a warm, worn and comfortable blue jumper, quickly pulled
a comb through her curls and pinning up her hair into a messy bun. Draco had asked her out
for coffee. She put on her wristwatch, noting that it was now eight thirty in the morning on a
Sunday. He’d probably still be asleep. Perhaps she should wait? No. Her stomach growled
and made the decision for her. Breakfast first, then she could track Draco down for coffee.

But as she left her rooms she noticed that there was a figure waiting in the common room.
Pale, seated with his back straight and staring down at a book in his lap was Draco. His hair
was nearly perfect, and dressed nattily in what she’d discovered was his normal - a well-
tailored pair of charcoal trousers, white collared shirt and dark waistcoat. As she approached
he raised his head, took off his glasses and tucked them away in his waistcoat pocket and
stood up, snapping the book shut.

“Hermione.” He nodded his head at her, gesturing to the Italian monstrosity on the counter.
“Might I make you a coffee?”

She nodded, and he smiled faintly, moving over to the small kitchen and pulling out a stool
for her at the breakfast bar.

“I’m afraid I only know what you like in your tea. You didn’t drink coffee at Hogwarts. What
would you like?” asked Draco, starting to arrange cups, saucers and milk.

“Perhaps a latte?” Hermione sat ramrod straight on her stool.

“An excellent choice signorina.” Draco seemed at ease as he ground, pressed and forced
water through the machine. He made a second for himself, swirling the milk into a leaf
pattern. “I’ve never had much luck with making anything more complicated than this. If
you’d like something better we would have to disturb a house elf.” He moved to the stool
next to Hermione, lifting it away and into position before seating himself.

“Have you ever allowed a chair to scrape the floor?” asked Hermione.

“I think once, maybe.” answered Draco distractedly. “If I did, my nanny probably made sure I
never made that mistake again. I remember an entire weekend with a set of magicked dolls so
that I could properly learn when and how to pull out a lady’s chair.”

Hermione nodded, taking a sip. “Did you have many nannies?”

Draco nodded. “At least one new one every year. They also tended to act as a governess as
well, so the lessons would switch up which made things a little more fun. Did you have a
nanny?”

“No. My parents were dentists, not nobility.” Hermione paused. “I went to the local primary
and finished just before my Hogwarts letter arrived. I’d tested into a very good secondary,
though.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Draco cleared his throat. “My apologies, I’m
not very good at this.”

Hermione gave a short chuckle. “And what about my behaviour has you convinced that I
am?” She snorted. “Hogwarts castle isn’t exactly the most teeming dating pool either. It’s you
or Nearly Headless Nick, really.”

Draco’s eyes twinkled at her. “As much as I’d like to start with our childhoods and go from
there, there is one hurdle we should probably jump before we continue.” A raised eyebrow
from Hermione encouraged him to continue. “Though it’s been more than a week since my
use of accidental magic, and though we’ve been seen separately, the student body is still
convinced that you have hexed me or we are now mortal enemies at war with each other.
Much as I’d like to just ignore it, the students will be distracted and distractible until we are
seen in public together. Would it be too much to ask you to join me for breakfast in the Great
Hall this morning? Conversation in front of the students where I am very much alive and we
don’t look displeased with each other could go a long way.”

Hermione nodded, drinking the dregs, and stood up, wincing as the chair made a rude noise.

A long-suffering sigh. “Nanny Health would be so upset with me right now.” He set the cups
and saucers down in a basket for the house elf and held out an elbow to Hermione. “M’lady?”

Draco led her down the hallways to the Great Hall, and up the stairs to the dias where
teachers ate together. They filled their plates and sat down to eat, pulling in Professor Vector
and a sleepy Professor Trelawney. Vector seemed irked by Sybil’s presence, apparently
Vector was the teacher most fated to die that year.

Draco whispered across to Hermione that since Harry had taken the defence against the dark
arts class and stayed for years Trelawney had decided that different subject area teachers
were now her favourite target of death omens. Trelawney stared at Draco. “You were never in
my classes. It does not surprise me that you fail to heed the ripples of the future.”

“That’s quite true, Sybil.” Draco responded between bites of his toast. “Arithmancy and
Ancient Runes were always more at my pace.” He winked at Hermione.

Hermione put down her fork. “I never saw you in either class.”

Draco blushed. “My parents hired tutors so I could do both classes because I couldn’t decide.
Unlike others I couldn’t get my hands on a time-turner. Took the OWL for both though.”
Hermione looked out across the sea of heads in the Great Hall. There were clumps of students
studying, some reading, and a fair number staring up at her and Professor Malfoy having a
conversation at breakfast. A frown creased her face. Had Draco taken any meals in the Great
Hall so far this year?

As they reentered, Hermione picked up the book that Draco had been reading. “Your Inner
Fish?” she asked.

Draco laughed. “It’s written by a muggle palaeontologist. He went looking for late Devonian
rocks to find a link between fish and land-dwelling animals and found tiktaalik. It’s
fascinating. I picked it up over the summer and you’re welcome to borrow it when I’ve
finished reading.”

The floo flared to life in the fireplace behind them, depositing Harry onto the rug. He was
juggling a stack of parchment and nodded at the two of them. “Glad to see you survived
Draco’s mum, Hermione. He was pretty sure last night that she’d fried your brain like an egg
and he’d have to burn the whole manor down.”

“Nice of you to check in on us, Harry.” drawled Draco.

“Not checking in. Desperate for some help grading. With Lily disappearing at all hours of the
night it’s not particularly easy to get anything graded these days. I also figured that if you’d
razed it to the ground I would have been able to see the explosion from Hogsmeade.”
explained Harry. “Any chance old-buddy-old-pal that you can lend me a hand with these?”

Draco sighed. “Again, Potter?”

Hermione stared at Harry. “Did Draco of all people replace me in your life? I’m shocked,
Harry.”

To his credit Harry winced as Draco and Hermione started to laugh. “I still need some help
with these. Come on. What’s a little help for an old friend?” he wheedled.

Draco recovered first. “Fine, I’ll help you. But only between getting things ready for
tomorrow’s classes. The first years are going to attempt the wiggenweld potion and I have
some things to get ready for.”

“I’ll get my grading too. If I finish quickly I’ll help you with whatever you have left.” offered
Hermione.

Draco waited with Harry as Hermione went to retrieve her pile of grading. Harry looked over
his glasses at Draco and whispered. “You’re sure she’s fine, though? The last week has been a
bit… much.”

Draco shrugged his shoulders back. “I think so. My mother says she just needed a release.”

“I bet she does.” Harry shot back, earning himself a hard elbow to the gut.

Hermione returned quickly and the three made their way down to the dungeon classroom.
“I seriously don’t understand why you let Harry get away with this Draco.” she was
complaining. “He’ll never learn if you just do the work for him.”

“And who, exactly, is telling me this, hmmm? I watched you three in the library. If you told
me he’d done half a lick of work in two years I’d be shocked right down to my shoes.” Draco
snorted and Hermione laughed.

“I never knew that you were funny, Draco. It’s a nice surprise.” she smiled at him, her eyes
crinkling.

“A nice surprise would have been the teacher I’d recommended for the job doing his grading
before the very last minute.” he grumbled.

Harry, who was bringing up the rear just sighed.

******

The three professors had a highly productive day. Hermione finished with her work first,
naturally, and then moved on to helping Harry grade papers on grindylow weaknesses and the
properties of boggarts. Draco spent quite a bit of time pressing the horklump juice for his first
year class. He'd normally have had his fifth years do the pressing the week before, but with
being absent from the classroom it was now on him. Neville showed up halfway through the
afternoon with six mandrakes, a box of mint and some gillyweed and they decided to make it
a little party, getting the house elves to bring up an early tea.

“We’re glad to see you out and about again, Draco. Don’t scare us like that.” admonished
Neville. “Luna was quite perturbed. She was off all week until last night. Is everything all
right again?”

Draco gave Neville a nudge with his elbow. “It is, I hope.” and smiled at Hermione.

Neville got a wicked look on his face. “I hope so. Luna is hoping to hear more music from
you, Draco. Or will we have to go down to Oxford to watch you in a musical again?”

Draco looked pained. “Never again. I can’t believe you brought that up.”

His grin widening, Neville turned to Hermione. “His roommate got him into her dramatic
society in his third year. As soon as they found out he could sing they forced him into two
musicals. What were they again, Draco?” Neville looked at Draco with his eyebrows up and a
look of innocence.

Draco groaned and raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember.” he mumbled.

“I can.” crackled Neville. “He was in something called ‘My Fair Lady’ as Freddie and in
‘Rent’ as Roger.” He thought for a moment. “If you asked his flatmate - Martina isn’t it? -
I’m sure she has them on video.”

Draco closed his eyes and rested his head into his hands. “I hate you Neville.”
“Never should have taken my remembrall in first year then.” said Neville with a grin as he
popped his last bit of scone into his mouth and made his leave back to the greenhouse as
Harry burst into giggles.

“I’ve not gotten to see Rent live. Is it any good, Draco?” asked Hermione, batting her
eyelashes.

“No. It’s terrible. Never watch it.” he groaned. He looked up at her. “But it is where I learned
how to play the guitar in the first place. Guess it was worth it.”

“I have, however, seen ‘My Fair Lady’. Isn’t Freddie the guy Eliza doesn’t end up with?”
Hermione was enjoying Draco’s discomfort.

“I’d like to just point out that I had nothing to do with Neville blowing this secret, Draco.
Totally not my fault.” said Harry, packing up his papers. “I’ve got to get back to Ginny,
though, or I’ll be looking for a bat-bogey hex all evening. Thanks for all your help you two.
Ta.”

After Harry swept out of the dungeons, Draco cleared his throat. “That wife of his is quite
formidable. I would be surprised if he doesn’t have to dodge one before tomorrow.”

They’d been left alone. Draco rose and started cleaning flasks and putting them into the
steriliser. Hermione cleared her throat. “So when do I get to meet Martina?” she asked.
“Anyone who could get you to dress up as though it was 1912 is well worth the effort.”

Draco turned to stare at her. “Martina would love to meet you. I generally spend Christmas
with her. In Oxford. She always wondered about you.”

That made Hermione pause. “What do you mean ‘wondered about me’?”

He quickly stripped off the dragonhide gloves he’d been using to wash flasks and sat down.
“She knew that I had blown my chance at an amazing girl at my ‘school for toffs’.” He gave
Hermione a reassuring smile. “She was more than a little curious about who you could be.
The house is always busy on Christmas day between her family and Pierre’s, but I could see
about an invitation to Boxing Day.”

“Will she have video of these performances?” Hermione asked.

Draco closed his eyes. “Probably. I refuse to ask before you get there though. If they’re
buried in the attic so much the better.”
 Dancing

Draco sighed and wound up the phonograph again. “Once more, Weasel. With feeling this
time.” Ron scowled at him and took Draco into his arms. The phonograph burst into life and
Weasley started moving Draco around the dance floor.

“Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes/Snowflakes that stay on my nose and
eyelashes./Silver white winters.”

“Fuck.” Draco pulled away, shaking his foot. “Never on the toes of your dance partner,
Weasel. How Pansy has put up with standing on your feet for years instead of dancing herself
escapes me.”

A snort came from the door and Draco turned to see Hermione gawking at the two of them
from the door. “Perhaps you can’t dance, Draco.”

The last few weeks had been enchanting for him. His fantasies about studying with Hermione
had come true. She was an excellent academic partner. They’d taken to meeting together
either in the common room, his classroom or hers nearly every evening over the past six
weeks. Her constant presence had helped him start to break down his instinct to occlude
around her. They’d moved from sitting across from each other and touching briefly to sitting
next to each other and accidental grazes without incident. It was incredible to be able to
simply push a student’s essay about poisonous tree frogs with a raised eyebrow across to her
and see her snort at the factual inaccuracies. He was getting used to the extraordinary
ordinariness of her presence - quotidien, the French had a better word for it - in his life.

They’d finally started talking about themselves too. He’d been making them coffee every
morning and working through a long list of questions she had for him. Many questions
centred around him and his life over the last decade. Sadly, his musical theatre career was a
specific point of interest. But she’d loved hearing about him splitting his time between the
Sorbonne and Oxford and his life amongst the muggles. She’d told him about her family
growing up, that she hated olives, and her incredible younger sister. A sister who seemed
more composed and, if possible, more academically inclined than Hermione herself had been.

The days had been slipping past him and it was now nearly the winter break. The students
had finished up their mid term exams on Wednesday and everyone was now packing up,
chattering and excited, to leave on the Hogwarts express on Friday. Tomorrow. He was about
to leave to spend the next week with Martina and her family. Hermione would be staying at
the castle with Rose until Boxing Day, when they’d portkey to Oxford.

“Is that a challenge, Granger?” he sneered, stepping towards her.

“It sure is, Malfoy.” out of the shadows of the hallway stepped Harry with Ginny on his arm.
“I mean, if you haven’t been able to teach him in nearly four months… well…”

“His clumsiness is not my fault, Potter.” Ron sighed behind him. “Pansy wants to go dancing
over New Years and if I haven’t gotten this oaf up to speed she will happily kill me.” A
thought struck Draco. “A strong lead is all that’s needed for a waltz.” He flicked his wand to
switch the record. “Let me demonstrate.” He held out a hand to Hermione, grateful to every
god in the universe as she took it.

A moment later the music began, starting with the piano before the vocals began. “Met my
old lover on the street last night.” Draco pulled Hermione to himself as he began to sweep her
across the floor. His back was straight and he stared down at her, only seeing the top of her
head. “Look up, Hermione. You don’t need to watch your feet.” he whispered into her hair.
He led her across the improvised dance floor, enjoying the feel of her body in his arms. Her
eyes raised slowly to his own, widening as she saw him looking down at her.

They spun slowly at the pace of the music. Going into the chorus he turned her to face away
from him, still maintaining eye contact, as they moved closer to their audience. “Still crazy
after all these years.” sang Paul Simon.

The bridge was coming up. Draco moved them backwards, whispering to Hermione. “Ready
to spin?”

“Four in the morning/Crapped out, yawning/Longing my life away.”

Her eyes were getting bigger as she followed his lead. He could lose himself in them
counting the tiny flecks of gold for days. He used his hand at the small of his back to guide
from the spin and back into the waltz. He could hear the song moving into the final lines and
decided to give her a small dip. “Still crazy after all these years.” He pulled her back to
standing, breathing deeply and staring down as her face flushed and her chest moved as
though she were panting. He couldn’t help himself. He raised a hand to tip her chin up and
sank down for a kiss.

Draco would have been happy standing there kissing Hermione for the rest of his life. His
toes curled inside of his shoes from the simple pleasure of touching his lips to hers. But they
were interrupted by applause. He blushed, Hermione paled and they both turned to the Potters
that were now clapping, a sour-looking Ron standing next to them. He gave a short bow and
cursed internally.

Ginny poked her brother. “I think it’s you, not the Ferret.”

******

Hermione stared at Draco as he moved back over to Ron, scolding him for not making his
back square, and organising Ginny and Harry into a second pair and switching the record
back to the Sound of Music.

“I am not - repeat not - dancing with you to Paul Simon, Weasley.” snapped Draco at Ron.
“Now put your hand in the small of my back or so help me I will let your lovely wife know
that you’re not taking these lessons seriously.”

Ron was even taller than Draco and looked as if he’d rather sink into the ground but extended
his arms and Draco stepped into them.
“Now, remember, One two/three. The second and third beats are linked.” he looked over at
Hermione. “Be a dear and start up the phonograph again.”

She watched as Draco straightened Ron’s shoulders again. “Just there. Don’t move your
shoulders. Let’s try this again.”

Hermione watched Harry and Ginny dance next to Ron and Draco. Ron who, to his credit,
seemed to be taking the lesson seriously. Draco constantly pointed out how Harry and Ginny
were moving. With the others distracted she lifted her fingers to her lips where it felt like
Draco’s kiss still burned.

Draco was an extremely complex person. She found herself wondering, and not for the first
time, what would have happened if Voldemort hadn’t returned during the TriWizard
Tournament. She may have taken one more OWL than he had, but he’d swept the board with
Outstandings, including in defence against the dark arts. She’d argued the point until he’d
pointed out that Muggle Studies shouldn’t count because she had grown up Muggle and
therefore it was an undeserved O. His eyes had been a light grey, as they almost always were
when he was teasing. It was only when his eyes filled with desire for her that they grew dark
and dangerous.

Neither of them could forget the accidental magic use that came when he tried to occlude.
Narcissa’s tweaks inside of her brain had allowed her to think about “the incident” as they’d
come to talk about it without the fear that had nearly paralysed her. She’d been right about
Draco’s revelations about his torture at Malfoy Manor too. Narcissa had been able to cushion
them away from her emotions, allowing her to remember without feeling numbed.

He was a handsome, intelligent wizard who loved her, and was doing his best to woo her
within his own limitations. She still wondered if he was going to find something not to like
but he seemed to enjoy asking questions, finding answers and treating the information he got
about her as precious. But he was still holding back. She could sense it.

Finally Ron’s dance lesson had ended after another five repetitions of My Favourite Things.
Draco had only threatened Ron a little bit as he tidied up the records. “If Pansy asks, you
have to remind her that I’ve been working with you every Wednesday this semester.” he’d
admonished Ron. “I have no desire to be levicorpus’d out of my bed again and screamed at
because she’s had to amputate a toe due to your negligence.”

Ron had laughed. “I’d almost pay to see that, Draco. Perhaps I should make sure to do so.”

They’d stared at each other for a beat before laughing together over their shared fear of Ron’s
wife.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. Bloody ‘ell. I know what’s good for me.” wheezed Ron as he
and the Potters left chattering up the stairs.

Hermione turned her eyes to Draco. “How long have you known how to do that?”

She saw him start a little bit. “Ballroom dancing lessons started at five.” He gave a pained
smile. “How else to win the heart of whatever pureblooded maiden my parents picked out for
me.” He gave an exaggerated shudder and gestured for her to climb the stairs ahead of him.

“Why do you do that, Draco?” she asked, stopping a step up and turning to face him, hands
on her hips.

His eyebrows knit. “What, precisely?”

She smiled. “You have me go up first but you insist on going down stairs first. Why not just
walk with me?”

“Ah.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “It’s in case you fall.”

“What?”

“In case you fall.” he repeated. “A lady is always led downstairs and followed upstairs, in
case she trips on her heels or hem and needs to be caught.” He thought for a moment.
“Though it’s quite nice to watch you go upstairs.” His eyes caught hers again.

Hermione may have been up a step from Draco but she only had to look up a little bit with an
extra step below her. She saw his pupils dilate before he averted his eyes, sighing deeply.
“Perhaps m’lady would prefer to take my arm as we climb?” He offered her his elbow and
they made their way up the stairs and back to the common room.
 Martina

Martina sipped coffee, watching Joey run circles around the Christmas tree. Draco’s last
shipment of gifts had arrived Wednesday, causing Pierre to snort and wonder where, exactly,
Father Christmas could leave his present if the parlour was filled with presents from Uncle
Draco. Listening for the distinctive crack of an apparition was still a strange thing for her.

Draco had been remarkably sexy in a deer-in-headlights slightly of balance toff-like way as
he’d started Oxford. Remarkably fit for someone who must’ve been a Chemistry dork in
school. He put forks in the microwave and could barely tie his own laces the first week.
She’d taken pity on him. She’d grown up on a council estate in London and tested into one of
the best secondary schools available.

That he’d rebuffed her in their early days had hurt, but over the next few months she realised
that he wasn’t interested in any of the girls around him. He’d had women falling over
themselves over the tall and handsome aristocrat in their classes, begging him to come to
study groups and the women feeling remarkably upset that all he’d done was study with
them. It was like he hadn’t seen them at all. Martina then thought that perhaps Draco was
gay. But that hadn’t fit either. The whole of their first year he’d been polite to others, but
there was always a wall in between himself and those around him.

Just before he’d left for France for the summer (because what rich nobleman didn’t go to
France in the summer she’d thought bitterly) he’d hesitantly asked her to share a flat with
him the next year. His mother, apparently, was buying him a flat as a gift. A gift. Martina
snorted at the memory. Her mother had nearly fainted when showing up to the luxury
building that her daughter would be sharing in the autumn. Draco had still been in France
when she’d arrived and picked up the key from the office.

“Pick whichever bedroom you want. I’ll take the other one. They’re both the same.” had read
the note left on the counter for her. Her mother had taken one look at the near-calligraphy of
his handwriting and hooted about the rich lad she’d snagged. Martina had known she hadn’t
snagged him though. He’d been snagged already. Part of the world but not was how she’d
described him to her parents who had been uneasy at their daughter living rent free with a
rich bloke.

“He’s lonely, mum. I think he just needs someone hanging around.” If only she’d understood
how alone Draco had been, then.

******

May, 2nd, 2000

Draco had looked pale and wan as she’d left that evening. He’d done a disappearing act the
year before over the May Day weekend the year before, coming back to school unshaven,
very hungover and looking incredibly worn out. This year he seemed to be doing better, but
he refused to leave the apartment. He was sprawled on the sofa, drinking beer, watching MTv
and reading a textbook.
“I’ll be fine later.” he’d assured her. “Just remember to hang a sock on your door if you bring
back that guy you’re out with that you refuse to call your boyfriend.”

Martina had laughed, throwing a couch cushion at Draco’s head which he had caught without
looking up. “Athlete reflexes.” he’d explained.

Pierre had been amazing that night. He was apparently celebrating something. Something
big. But he wouldn’t talk about the why, just how incredibly thankful he’d been to be in
France two years ago. Pierre was a pastry chef. He could make the most amazing desserts and
was gaining quite a reputation at the hotel he worked at for pumping out confections faster
than any other chef. The trouble had started just after she’d brought him home.

He hadn’t been the first man she’d brought home. The first had walked out first thing in the
morning after Draco had offered him tea in the kitchen. One of the many downsides of
having such a handsome flatmate, she guessed.

Pierre had been fine with her telling him she had a male flatmate (she wasn’t making that
mistake again). Pierre had been suitably impressed by the block she lived in. Pierre had
snogged her in the elevator and whispered the things he’d do to her into her ear in French.
But as they entered the flat, Draco had been walking out of the kitchen holding a bowl of
popcorn and looked up, offering Martina some.

Pierre’s face had gone white and he’d whipped out a stick and pointed it at Draco. Draco
threw the bowl at Pierre and dove headlong behind the couch. Buzzing sounds had filled the
apartment as things had been shot at each other, with Draco finally getting the drop on Pierre.

petrificus totalus

Draco grabbed Martina and pulled her behind him. “Did he hurt you? Are you ok?”

Martina’s brain had nearly short-circuited. “What. The. Fuck?”

Draco’s eyes, which had been filled with fear, got suddenly sad and he pointed his stick at her
forehead mouthing the word “sleep”.

Martina had woken up a few hours later with a splitting headache, convinced it had all been a
dream. She’d been put on top of her covers and could hear low male voices talking in the
next room. As she opened the door there was a soft chime sound and the three men in the
sitting room all turned to face her. There was Draco, Pierre, and a shorter man with round
glasses and messy black hair. This third man stepped towards her, held out a hand and
introduced himself. “Hello Martina, I’m Harry Potter.”

Then he’d paused, like he expected Martina to know who he was. Draco snorted behind him.
“She’s a muggle, Potter. She doesn’t know you.”

Pierre had glared at Draco. “She doesn’t know you either, Malfoy.” Draco glared back with a
sulky expression.

Harry had brought up his hands. “Let’s all sit down and explain this to Martina.”
What followed had been one of the strangest nights of her life. Draco was a wizard, like both
Pierre and Harry. Harry had come straight from a victory party because there had been a war
on two years ago against a Dark Wizard and Harry Potter had won.

What had thrown Pierre had been that Draco - Lord Malfoy as she now knew - had been
instrumental in bringing about the victory. It had left her brain ringing. Draco had been
through a war. Where he'd been a double agent. He was her age for God's sake!

“Happily for you, Martina, Draco really values your friendship and has asked me to manage
it so that we don’t have to make you forget that magic exists.” He smiled at her in a friendly
way.

“Could you do that? Just go into my brain?” Harry nodded and Martina shuddered. “I don’t
ever want one of you lot in my head.”

Harry laughed. “But Draco has come up with another way. You’re technically in a
relationship with two wizards right now, so Draco has offered himself as your securer. He’ll
take responsibility to clean up any mess you make by telling anyone else that magic or
wizards exist and I get to file some paperwork at the ministry.”

“Least I can do now that you’re dating my cousin.” Draco snorted.

“Twice removed, and I’d like to remind you it was your aunt that burnt Alphard Black off the
tree when he helped Sirius with some gold.”

It had only been after that that Martina had seen the Dark Mark on Draco’s forearm and his
walls of polite distance had started to come down. She was, he pointed out, the only muggle
he could be honest with. After all, she was still dating his cousin.

******

Martina smiled over the rim of her cup as she heard the crack upstairs. “Joey! Uncle Draco’s
here!” The little boy stopped in his tracks and zoomed upstairs as fast as his chubby legs
would take him. She heard them collide in the upstairs hallway and hopped out of the kitchen
chair.

Draco swooped in with Joey slung over his shoulders. “Afternoon, Martina. You wouldn’t
happen to know where Joey’s gone, have you? I thought I’d found him, but he seems to have
disappeared.” Joey giggled and Martina made a great show of looking for him. "I guess we
are just going to have to sit without finding him at all.” Draco sat and squished Joey between
his back and the sofa. “Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

******

Later that night when Joey had been put to bed and the three adults gathered in the kitchen
for some Black Forest Torte and wine, Martina ran out of patience.

“All right Draco. Who’s this girl you’re bringing round for Boxing Day? We've already said
yes to her coming but it would be nice to have a name for the place settings."
"You've never used place settings, Martina." Draco wiped his lips on the napkin. “And it's
two girls, actually.”

A snort. “I’d more believe one than two. I have never seen you date anyone, and you’ve
never spoken of or brought someone to visit before. Who are they?”

Pierre reached up to rub her back. “Calm down, cherie.”

“I refuse to calm down.” she retorted. “He’s bringing people here. They’re going to meet
Joey. Who could you possibly have met in the past four months that you’d like to bring here
of all places? Is she a wizard too?”

“Witch. Female magic users are referred to as witches.” Draco replied.

That provoked an eye roll from Martina. “So who’s this witch, then?”

“Hermione Granger.” replied Draco softly.

A chair was knocked to the floor. “Hermione Granger?” shouted Pierre? “ THE Hermione
Granger? Merlin’s beard, Martina. Her! She helped beat the Dark Lord Martina. First I get to
meet Harry, then Ron. I’ll have the set!” He was nearly dancing with joy. “I’m going to have
to make croissants.” He jibbered on in French before pointed a stubby finger at Draco.
“Qu’est-ce quelle aime?” He suddenly stilled. “You said two girls?”

Draco nodded stiffly. “She will be bringing her sister, Rose. She’s eleven and a half.”

“What’s she like, this Hermione Granger? You go to school with her?” Martina’s eyes
narrowed as Draco nodded. “Is this the girl, Draco?” Another nod. Draco looked nervous as a
smile started to cross Martina’s face. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
 Boxing Day

Hermione tapped her foot with impatience, staring down at the wicker ornament in her hand.
Rose, standing at her elbow, had her finger pressed against the middle. Hermione hated
waiting. They’d spent the first few days of the holidays at Hogwarts, enjoying the silence and
reconnecting after a busy term.

Christmas Eve was spent at the Burrow, dodging children and watching the excitement of
Pansy and Molly at loggerheads over how best to cook a goose while the rest of the extended
Weasley clan cheered them on. Christmas was spent back in Hogsmeade with the Potter
family, where they’d watched Christmas movies, drunk their weight in eggnog and had
mounds of Christmas cake with sharp cheese.

Now they stared at the ornament that Draco had given her that would act as a portkey to
Martina’s home in Oxford. Hermione had dressed carefully for this trip. Martina was one of
Draco’s greatest friends. He’d promised to leave them alone for a little bit, as Hermione
wanted to meet Martina on her own terms. She’d pulled on some fitted leggings and a
sweater dress and spent time taming not only her own curls but Rose’s too.

Rose looked up at her nervously just as the clock struck one. “Do you think they’ll like us?”
And the portkey took hold of them, with a tugging sensation at their belly buttons they were
pulled away towards Oxford.

******

Draco was by nature a formal person who was, in general, always well pulled together, nicely
dressed and projected an air of relaxation no matter what was happening on the inside.
Martina had jokingly referred to him as a duck. Smooth on the surface and paddling like mad
underneath. Today, though, he was jumpy and distracted.

“Calm down, Draco, before you give yourself an ulcer.” she’d barked at him as they’d eaten
brunch. He’d looked like a jack in a box standing up and peering into the backyard every few
minutes. “It’s not even quarter to one yet.”

“You’re right.” he’d said distractedly, running a hand through his hair which, though usually
immaculate, was now in disarray.

Pierre chuckled, earning himself glares from both Draco and Martina. He’d raised his hands
into the air. “Ce n’est pas ma faute! Both of you should calm.” Pierre took a bite of cake.
“She will get here when she gets here. I am just happy to meet her, yes?”

Martina smoothed her features into a smile as she looked at her husband. Pierre Black was
slightly shorter than Draco, though still tall, and gangly to a fault. For someone who ate as
many sweets as he did, taste testing new recipes and perfecting old ones, he had no business
being as slender as he was, with slightly stooped shoulders from years of bending over
counters and arranging delicate decorations on desserts. They didn’t spend much time in the
magical world. Martina still found the strangeness of magic unsettling, though she figured
that she would have to get over herself eventually, since Joey was already signed up to go to
Hogwarts when the time came. At least he’d have his Uncle Draco to watch over him.

Draco stood up again.

“So how should I greet the war hero you’re bringing home for dinner?” asked Martina.

He collapsed back on his chair. “She’s uncomfortable with all the fanfare.”

“Reminds me of another wizarding war hero I know of.” she smiled at Draco.

“Yes, but Hermione was on the right side all the way through.” he replied quietly.

“So were you, Draco.” Martina replied, to which Draco snorted. “I still don’t understand why
you aren’t shouting it from the rooftops.”

“It's not for me. My godfather tried that after the first war.” Draco was toying with his slice of
cake, reducing it to crumbs and earning himself a look from Pierre. “Nothing truly helped but
time. Even then when the Dark Lord returned he was looked on with suspicion - and he went
right back to being a double agent. Every year it gets a bit easier when the new students come
in and then go home for the holidays and talk about how they like Professor Malfoy. I am
always going to be tainted by this.”

A strong wind rattled a branch against the side of the house and Draco stood up again.

“It isn’t time yet.” Draco sat back down with a thump and Martina scowled at him. “It should
at least be in the books somewhere.”

“Yes,” said Draco dryly. “But then I’d have to put all of it in a book somewhere. Can’t I just
have my journal published after my death like a normal lord?”

“But then it would just be hundreds of pages about how you mooned over Hermione for years
before saying anything to her directly.” Martina chuckled. “About how you wasted your
youth because you couldn’t get over your own fat head and how you maltreat yourself for
fun. Don’t forget you promised to leave us alone for a while once she gets here. I have to be
able to threaten her. The whole ‘if you hurt Draco yadda yadda yadda.”

“Thanks for putting it in perspective, Martina.” he commented, not really hearing her and
looking at his watch. “It’s almost one. I’ll wait for them in the garden.” He lifted his chair out
from the table and strode quickly outside.

Now Martina stood up, staring at the back of Draco’s head.

“Sit down, cherie.” said Pierre. “Plenty of time to threaten our guests later.”

******

Hermione landed and held Rose’s hair back as she was sick. “I… I hate that.”
“I know Rose, portkeys are not great to travel by but you did really well. I got sick the first
time too.” She looked up and saw Draco walking across the grass. He looked good in a
Slytherin green cable knit sweater and his charcoal trousers.

evanesco

She vanished the sick from the grass and Rose looked slightly less green. Draco looked like
he wanted to hug her, his eyes darting from one Granger to the other. Hermione solved the
problem for him by giving him a chaste hug.

Rose piped up behind her. “Do you think I could have some water?” Hermione turned,
pulling a mint out of her beaded bag. “Thanks Mimum.” said Rose, popping it into her
mouth.

Hermione looked past Draco towards the house and noticed a woman standing at the garden
door looking at them steadily. Draco gestured up to the house. “Are you ready?”

Hermione made a noncommittal shrug. Draco cleared his throat and gestured up to the house.
“Shall we?”

******

Martina’s first impression of Hermione was that she was very small. Draco was quite tall, but
Hermione’s head just barely brushed the top of his shoulder. She didn’t look like someone
who could stare down dark wizards and come out on top. She almost disappeared in her
sweater dress and her curls fell about halfway down her back. The girl with her was adorable,
they looked like sisters. The same button nose graced both faces. Draco led them both up the
walk and towards the house.

“Martina,” he said with an undertone of awe. “May I present Hermione and Rose Granger?”

Hermione smiled shyly, extending a hand. “Dr. Wallace, I presume? From what Draco tells
me you’re about the closest thing he has to a sister.”

“I’d say so.” Martina replied, taking her hand. “And it’s Martina. Won’t you come in?” She
nearly kicked herself. What kind of formal assery was she dealing in? She led Hermione and
Rose into the sitting room where they all sat staring at each other for a few moments, Rose
swinging her feet underneath her chair and Joey deciding that instead of sitting like a normal
person he’d swing his legs over the back of his chair and leave his head hanging off the front.

Rose studied the room while Hermione fiddled with her bag and Pierre arrived with a tea tray.
Draco was too well-bred to squirm but Martina saw his eyes pleading with her to do
something - anything, really - to break the tension. Rose, however, was the one that did it.

“So what am I supposed to call you when we aren’t at Hogwarts?” she asked Draco
curiously.

Martina’s lips quirked. “You could always try his title, Rose. He’s Lord Malfoy, don’t you
know?”
Draco spoke up then. “Absolutely not,” he said with a shudder.

The tension broke right then, with Hermione catching Martina’s eye before dissolving into
giggles. They kept almost catching hold of themselves before one or the other would squeak
out “Lord Malfoy” and giggle again. Draco looked like he wanted the sofa to eat him.

“Thank you for that, Martina.” said Hermione, wiping away a tear. “If you had only seen him
as a child at Hogwarts you’d think that was even funnier.”

Martina perked up with interest. “Are we ready to start telling embarrassing stories about
Draco now?”

Draco stood up. “I have no desire to watch my dignity get torn to shreds,” he said with good
humour. “Rose, would you like to come with Pierre, Joey and I to the park? We can run off a
little energy since I’m sure we will be eating our weight in sugar.” Rose looked to Hermione
for permission and then bounded out the door with Joey and Pierre.

“Aren’t you worried about us?” asked Martina.

He shook his head. “You can both hold your own.” He leaned down and carefully kissed
Hermione’s temple, causing her to blush, then tucked his hands into his trousers and
sauntered off.

Martina looked at Hermione curiously. “Can I offer you some tea?”

“Please,” came the grateful answer.

They one lumped or twoed and settled in with cups of tea to keep their hands busy.

“Thank you for having us, Martina. We’ve only just moved back and it’s been a strange
transition.” Hermione blurted.

“Did I hear an Aussie accent?” asked Martina.

“Yes. Rose was born there. In Perth.”

Martina looked at Hermione. Getting information out of Draco about her had been like
pulling teeth. She sat back in her armchair, tapping her saucer.

“I’m quite fond of Draco, Hermione,” said Martina. “He’s not had an easy go of it, even with
all his family’s money. I thought for a long time as I was growing up that money would solve
all of my problems. Don’t get me wrong - money has solved more than half of them - but
Draco had a whole truckload of new ones added on. He’s hard to get to know, and he doesn’t
let people in very often.”

Both women nodded and took a sip of tea, almost in unison.

“I mean… he’s never introduced me to someone he cared about before. Ever. And we’ve
known each other for more than a decade. I could bet money on him never having gone on a
date that he knew about.” Martina was spinning her cup in her saucer by the handle in a way
she knew would have driven Draco insane. She could almost hear him now, painfully
explaining to her that cups went up and down and did not move in saucers afterwards. “I
mean, and now he shows up with … you.” She lifted her green eyes to meet Hermione’s
brown. “Pierre has always taken me for little forays into magic London or Bath, but Draco
never has. Do you know why?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Pierre went with him last year. He said it was weird how Draco had pulled his collar up and
pulled his hat down when they went to Diagon Alley to find some practice broom for Joey.
People cast hexes at him.” Martina’s voice grew hard. “The magic community doesn’t
deserve him, Hermione. He helped save you all and he’s just gotten kicked for it. He takes the
train up to Scotland before he goes into Hogsmeade because that way he doesn’t have to take
the Hogwarts Express. Did you know someone spat at him on the platform before his second
year teaching?”

With a sigh, Hermione put down her teacup, staring at Martina. “I didn’t know.”

Martina made her voice softer. “I’m just inherently suspicious of all of you. It should come as
no surprise to you, but if you hurt him, I’ll kill you. I’m a Chemistry major with a devious
pastry chef as a co-conspirator. I don’t care that you’re some war heroine. I don’t care if the
rest of your community thinks you poop gold. You’ll never see it coming.” Her voice might
have been soft but her eyes were hard and the threat was quite clear. Martina knew she could
be scary but the witch across from her almost shrugged the threat off.

“Understood.” Hermione looked thoughtful.

With a satisfied nod, Martina smiled. “Have a biscuit. Pierre made them special for your
visit.” As the witch reached out to take one Martina asked another question. “So what exactly
happened where Draco thought you’d never forgive him? He’s always avoided telling me the
specifics. I know he said he was a right git in school, but he’s awfully handsome, fit and
clever.”

“Ah,” said Hermione around her biscuit, quickly swallowing. “His Aunt tortured me in front
of him on the floor at the Manor for near an hour and he didn’t turn a hair.”

Martina choked on her sip of tea.

“Did Pierre use bits of chocolate frog in this?”

******

Draco and Pierre had a good time in the park. Rose got along well with Joey, who was so
happy to have a child to play with that he allowed her to boss him around the whole time,
organising their games and swinging on the tire swing together. He kept looking back in the
direction of the house.

Pierre elbowed him. “They is fine. Pas d’explosion. If something happened, we would see.”
Pierre considered both the look on Draco’s face and the time on his wristwatch. “Per’aps we
could go back?”

With a nod Draco called the children back and they ambled back up the street. Pierre moved
ahead to open the door and Draco heard a rather unpleasant noise. He blanched and ran into
the sitting room.

“Does enchantment pour/Out of every door?/No it’s just on the street where you live.”

He closed his eyes. Hermione had charmed the television to be three dimensional and there
he was, dancing down the stage and singing in Freddie’s light grey suit and a cane. The kids
rushed in after him and Rose started laughing. “Professor, I am never going to forget this.”

Hermione turned with a smirk. “Believe it or not, Draco, this tape was just sitting on
Martina’s bookshelf. I agree with her, though. You did far better at Freddie than Roger. You
looked like a charm school student unimpressed by the wardrobe in Rent. Far too stiff.” She
considered it for a moment. “The singing was good, though.”

******

Draco thought the rest of the afternoon and evening had gone well. He’d packed up the last
few things in his wheeled suitcase, leaving his laptop and kindle in a drawer in the guest
room and sealing it with a charm.

Martina and Hermione had gotten along like a house on fire. They’d read many of the same
books and had well-defended differing opinions. Both were highly competitive board game
players and tried to outthink the game. Martina had cornered him right after dinner, giving
him a big hug. “Don’t let her go, Draco. I like her.” Now he, Rose and Hermione were all
standing around the ornament again, waiting for the clock to strike half nine. Hermione
turned to thank Pierre one last time for the wonderful dinner and dessert when they felt the
pulls at their navels and were whisked back to Hogwarts.

Rose looked a little green when they landed, but didn’t throw up this time, and gave
Hermione a hug before bouncing back to Ravenclaw tower to sleep.

He and Hermione watched her go. Draco could feel his breath hitch as he studied her face.
Hermione reached a hand out, hovering next to his cheek and he leaned in to it, breathing in
her scent and turning slightly to press a kiss onto her palm.
 A visit in the pensieve

Hermione felt pinned under Draco’s stare. The warmth and light of the fireplace behind them
bathed them both in a warm light. He raised his hand to hold hers in place on his cheek and
stepped into her arms. He wrapped one hand around her hip, just as he had while they were
dancing, pulling her closer as he lowered his face into her hair and inhaling deeply.

She nearly stopped breathing.

“Hermione,” it was a whisper against her skin. “The last few weeks have shown that you are
everything I imagined you to be and more. Kind. Clever. Beautiful.” She felt him pull back
just far enough to stare into her eyes. His pupils were blown wide and his eyes looked like
quicksilver. “I will have the pensieve ready tomorrow at six in my classroom. I’ve made you
a promise and I intend to keep it. Before we look into my memories, please, I beg of you, let
me court you.”

He was as still as a statue. His features frozen, crossed both by pain and desire.

“Come dancing with me on New Year’s Eve. If you don’t want me I won’t bother you again
but the possibility of you is driving me mad.”

Hermione heart skipped as Draco took his hand from hers then tousled it into her curls. “You
can always change your mind to no after you see the memories, but I need to know if you
would want me without them.”

Carefully, Hermione nodded her head. “Yes,” she murmured.

Draco made a strangled noise and kissed her forehead. “Then we shall see what tomorrow
brings.” He carefully let her go, picked up his suitcase, and walked away down the corridor,
leaving Hermione feeling decidedly off balance.

******

Hermione was tired as she entered the potions classroom just before six the next day. Raking
her eyes over Draco she accepted that he looked worse than she felt. The bags under his eyes
would have rivalled the ones he’d had at the beginning of the year, his crisp white shirt was
as rumpled as his hair, his waistcoat unbuttoned and without a tie. She could see a thumbprint
on the right lens of his glasses. He was sitting at the teacher’s desk with four vials of
memories at his elbow. Harry was sitting next to him with a sober look on his face.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry and he shrugged. “It’s dangerous to use a pensieve
without someone on the outside. I won’t be there with you, but if something happens I can
pull you both out.”

Draco started pouring memories into the pensieve. Then he reached out a hand for hers and
fell in with her.
They fell next to a teenaged Malfoy, hurrying down one of the halls of the manor. She saw
him slow slightly, look up and down the passageway quickly before slipping behind a
tapestry and down into a priest’s hole beneath . Hermione hurried behind him with an ever
silent Draco behind her. Malfoy closed the hatch, twisting the lever and casting a nonverbal
spell. Draco looked at his younger self with disgust. Malfoy was decidedly underweight. He
dropped the far-away look of an occlumens and spent a moment as a terrified boy before a
crack rent the air and Snape appeared in a swirl of black robes and smoke.

“It will happen tomorrow morning. At one.” Snape’s measured words seemed to strike
Malfoy.

“That’s not near enough time. She’s still in there, for Merlin’s sake,” spat Malfoy, eyes wild.

Snape reached out and grabbed Malfoy by the throat, pushed him against the wall and hissed
in his ear as he struggled. “Boy, I’ve delayed them as long as I can. It happens now with what
you’ve already prepared or they take her. Pick.” Releasing Malfoy, who fell to the ground,
Snape disapparated.

The memory disappeared into mist and they were suddenly in an alleyway Hermione
recognized. She turned to Draco as he watched his teenaged self hiding behind a skip with
loathing. “What day is it?”

He gritted his teeth. “July 20th, 1997. It’s almost six o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Isn’t that…” she started, when he shushed her and pointed across the street, where she saw
her own younger self leaving the house, beaded bag in hand.

Malfoy watched her walk to the end of the street, wait for a public bus and be driven away
without looking back. He marched across the street, wand at the ready, and rang the doorbell.
Her father answered the door on autopilot. His eyes unfocussed. Malfoy was fast, she had to
admit. With nonverbal spells he quickly knocked her parents out, laying them on the rug in
the parlour and pointing his wand at her mother.

legilimens

Malfoy looked confused. He stared around himself. He took out a piece of parchment from
his pocket that had a picture of Hermione’s mother’s driver’s licence and held it up to her
face to compare it. Switching parchments he looked at her father. Malfoy sat back on his
heels, thinking.

legilimens

Now it was her father’s turn. Malfoy spent longer with him.

Then it was done and Malfoy stood up between them, staring down at her parents.

Hermione stared down with him, looking at their peaceful faces.

“Fuck me, Granger.” His face split into a grin and he started to laugh in relief before pulling a
small plastic watering can out of his coat pocket, placing it between them and putting their
hands on it. He pointed at her parents.

obliviate

Then he started going through the rest of the house. He tossed their bedroom, taking their
passports that Hermione had bewitched to read Wilkins. They could hear the portkey activate
in the living room, pulling them who knows where. Malfoy was tugging pictures out of
albums and discarding them in a pile, never finding a trace of her face. Then Malfoy was
standing at the door of her bedroom. He braced himself before going in. Draco pulled her in
with him and they watched the younger Malfoy search through what remained of her library
before he sat down on her bed and cried.

Draco tugged her arm to move towards the next memory but Hermione pulled her elbow out
of his grasp. “It took me until then to realise you’d already anticipated the Dark Lord,” he
explained quietly. “You'd taken your books. You were gone.” They looked at the child on her
bed, crying both from relief and heartbreak. Hermione reminded herself how young they’d all
been while fighting Voldemort.

Draco tugged her again and she fought against him.

”I want to see when you leave,” she hissed.

It took Malfoy some time to pull himself together, finally moving to her closet. He carefully
moved the clothes about until he removed a periwinkle blue dress.

“I had to be sure, you see,” he whispered. “That this was truly the right house.”

Malfoy nodded, hesitated and held the dress to his face for a moment, breathing in. His
shoulders slumped, he dropped the dress in a heap on the floor of her closet and he left her
bedroom.

They followed him back to the parlour where Malfoy pulled yet another contraption out of
his pocket, leaving it ticking on the rug as he walked out the front door. He turned to watch
her childhood home get sucked into itself, leaving a crater behind. Pulling out his wand he
started an incantation to ward off Muggles and then raised his wand in the air.

morsmordre

The dark mark catapulted out of his wand, settling above the foundation just as a crack split
the air and death eaters popped out of existence and into her road. Malfoy turned on his heel
and sneered behind him. “McNair, come to check up on my work?” His face contorted,
mimicking a smile. “They cried for that little mudblood. Wish she’d been here so I could
have bled her out while they watched.”

The smoke of memories eddied around them again, depositing them in the dungeons under
Malfoy Manor, where Malfoy was in an argument with his mother.

“They are going to Australia, mother. That’s final. How else is she supposed to find them
again? I’ve already hired a realtor and they have a house to wake up in. They just need a
memory of getting there so that they don’t panic.” Malfoy was tapping his foot and glaring at
Narcissa.

“Fine. It will have to be quick.” She saw Narcissa lean down over her parents. A soft glow
reached into their heads. “It’s done.”

Malfoy closed his eyes. “Thank you, mother.” He placed the doll he’d been holding between
them, linking their hands over it and backed away. Casting another obliviate at them.

Draco caught Hermione’s hand. “Last one,” and led her through the hallway and into what
she recognised as the Wilkins residence in Perth. At her parents’ door stood Malfoy, looking
quite put out. Hermione looked at Draco. “It’s the seventh of August.” Malfoy had just come
in from the rain, shaking his charcoal pea coat.

“Excellent to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins. I’m from the barrister’s office of Louis,
Crumb and Seawright.” Malfoy held out a card.

Hermione’s dad looked slightly confused, with the crease in his forehead that told Hermione
he had a headache, extending his hand and taking the card from Malfoy.

“Might I have a cup of tea?” he asked.

Hermione’s mum moved around in the kitchen, making Malfoy tea in a chipped mug that
Hermione herself had preferred when she dropped by their home while Draco set up
paperwork at the tiny kitchen table.

“So because of your accident you’re getting a stipend to tide you over for the next year or so.
Please sign where it’s marked and the bank will be able to transfer the funds as soon as
possible.”

Malfoy made polite small talk as her parents signed the documents to authorise the transfers.
As they finished signing, her father looked at him closely. “You seem awfully young to be
working at a barrister’s office.”

With a tight smile, Malfoy thanked him.

The new Wendall Wilkins sat back in his chair. “Have you found yourself in love yet, son?”
Malfoy stared at him in shock.

“Perhaps,” he replied slowly. “I’m not sure she’d want me.”

“You seem like a nice young man,” said Monica, closing the distance between herself and her
husband. “We weren’t much older than you when we…” a cloud passed over her face. “Got
married and were… living in London.”

“That’s where I’m planning to be by next month. Perhaps you could tell me where I ought to
go first,” Draco was mouthing the words along with his younger self.

“Primrose Hill. We’d love to go there for a picnic on Saturdays. It’s excellent at sunset if
you’d like to bring your lady friend with you. Perhaps she’d come along. London is beautiful
this time of year.” At this Hermione started to cry, and Draco pulled her in for a hug.

“I must be off, Mr. Wilkins,” Malfoy was gathering papers roughly and shoving them in a
briefcase. “Enjoy your new lives in Australia.” His face tightened into a smile as he quickly
shook both their hands before obliviating her parents again and making his way back out into
the rain.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, pulling her back out of the pensieve.

******

Hermione heaved for breath as they exited the pensieve. She threw herself into Draco’s arms
and bawled as though her heart had broken.

Draco held her close. "I'm so sorry. Their lost memories are my fault. The extra legilimency.
Three more obliviates to get them to Australia - I couldn't have them remembering anything
about me either. It wasn't safe."

Hermione felt emotionally wrung out. Draco was there, though. Draco, who tapped her
shoulder and gave her a vial of calming draught. Draco, who helped her back upstairs with
Harry, holding her hand until she’d fallen into a deep sleep and then slipping out her door.
 The morning after

Hermione woke up with the dawn the next morning, fully clothed, over her covers, under a
downy-soft cream coloured blanket and with a startling revelation. Draco had saved her
parents from death eaters, but was also the probable reason she hadn’t been able to reverse
their memory charms after the war. At seventeen he’d defied the dark lord. Not overtly like
she, Harry and Ron had done, but like the Slytherin he was. Draco had demonstrated
resourcefulness, determination, cleverness and a flat out disregard for the rules.

She slipped out from underneath the blanket, quickly changed out of yesterday’s clothes and
into a simple dress and pulling on the slippers Rose had gotten her for Christmas, and opened
her bedroom door. In her tiny sitting room she found both Harry and Draco, curled up on her
furniture and deeply asleep. Harry had taken the loveseat, his dark hair mussed and his body
curled up. Draco was in her armchair, his long legs swung over the armrest and and arm
tucked around the back, his face smushed against the back and his glasses askew. She could
still see the thumbprint on the lens.

Hermione stood there a moment, considering the two of them. She could almost hear the
argument they would have had last night. Where Draco would have insisted that he stay, to
wait for Hermione to wake up, to watch over her while she slept. How Harry would have
scoffed and told Draco to shove it, that if he were staying Harry would wait too. There was a
half-finished game of wizard’s chess waiting for them on her coffee table where it looked like
Harry was in a better position. She glanced over at Draco again. He must have been
distracted. Harry was terrible at wizard’s chess.

Finally Hermione made a decision. She lifted her dictionary off her desk, held it out in front
of her and dropped it carefully onto its back from shoulder height. The book landed with a
boom, startling the men. Harry ended up on his feet, scrambling for his wand and pointing it
at her. Draco rolled off her chair and came up with his, pointing at the door that led into the
rest of the castle.

Both were breathing heavily as Draco slowly turned towards her, his lips twitching as he
noted the dictionary on the floor, but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What was that for, Hermione?” asked Harry, pocketing his wand.

“She probably didn’t want me to accidentally blow up her rooms the same way mine went,”
answered Draco. “I’ll go now, if you’re all right Granger.”

He was still looking at the floor. With a sigh he slipped his glasses into his pocket as he
moved towards the door.

“Stop right there, Malfoy,” she ordered, turning to Harry. “I’m fine, Harry, really. Have you
seen those memories?”

Harry shook his head. “Just the one where Snape tells him the death eaters are coming for
your family and then another where Draco and Snape talked about saving families of
muggleborns ‘like the Granger people’.” He looked chagrined. “Draco doesn’t share them
with just anybody. I got them from Snape.”

Draco was staring down at his toes. It was amazing how small he could make himself.

She reached over to give Harry a hug. “It’s amazing that the boy who lived doesn’t count as
anybody. I’ll come down to the Pines and see you guys tomorrow. I’ll bring Rose. Would
after lunch work?” Harry nodded, whispering good luck to Draco as he went.

As the door closed softly behind Harry Hermione turned to Draco. “Please sit down.”

“Shan’t,” he muttered. “Please let me go.”

She thought for a moment. “I don’t think I will.”

He lifted his gaze to her. “Why not, Granger?” the question floated faintly to her.

“Because I want to thank the person who saved my parents from death eaters,” she said
simply.

“You never have to thank me for that. You didn’t get them back,” the statement came out
harsh and he winced.

“I got more years with them, though, and Rose,” Hermione started to close the distance
between the two of them. “I don’t have to live with the truth that with all my planning and
preparation the second I left they would have been brutally murdered.”

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Except perhaps your poor word choice. Who says courting any
more?” she lifted her face to stare into his silver eyes just before he sank down and kissed
her. Draco took her into his arms, groaning at the contact. His hands grazed her body as he
raised them to her hair, tangling them into the locks and pulling her close.

“It figures, Granger,” he moaned between kisses. “That you’d be thinking of vocabulary at a
moment like this.”

She smiled. “You also said you’d call me Hermione.”

Draco sighed, stepped over to the loveseat and pulled Hermione onto his lap.

“If I stopped annoying you though, how would I get you to talk to me?” He wrapped her in
his arms, kissing her pulse point at her neck and causing her to gasp.

Unlike Ron and the few muggles she’d dated in university, Draco’s hands didn’t wander. He
nibbled around her ear, placed kisses down her jaw and savoured the taste of her lips, gently
pushing for entry, deepening the kiss. One arm snaked around her shoulders with the other at
her hip. She could feel him against her thigh, growing harder as Draco moved his mouth back
towards her ear.
“Hermione, you are indelible,” he murmured, pulling her even closer.

She whimpered, twisting in his lap until her knees were on either side of his thighs and
ground down against him. He stilled for a moment, then used one hand to hold her in place as
he gently moved the other up her thigh and under her skirt, starting at the knee and peering
into her eyes.

“Please say yes, Hermione.” His hand had moved to the zipper at the back of her dress,
playing with the slider and ghosting his fingers over the nape of her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed and he quickly pulled down the zip, lifting the dress off with the other
hand, burying his face in her neck as Hermione rocked her hips against his. His right arm to
hold her hips firmly as his left hand dragged slowly up her abdomen and towards her breasts.
Draco moved his mouth lower, placing love bites across her chest. He carefully sucked and
kissed across her breasts where he could access with her bra on. His teeth grazed along one
and down the other, with his mouth moving tortuously over the cups until Hermione reached
behind herself and released the clasp.

Draco trembled as he watched her bra descend, dancing down her body and tumbling to the
side.

“You are so beautiful,” he purred, his lips tracing a slow line down from her collarbone to her
dusky nipples. She gasped, thrusting a hand down his collar as his lips closed over her nipple
and his left hand began to mimic the motions of his tongue on her right breast. She lost
herself as he pinched, gently tugged and sucked his way from one breast to the other and
back again. She scratched at his scalp and neck as she felt wetness pool in her knickers,
making it more and more difficult to concentrate.

Draco chuckled darkly as her pleading got more insistent and she was struck by the fact that
he was still fully clothed, holding her nearly naked in his arms with only her knickers and a
pair of reindeer slippers left on her. Hermione whined, pushing herself at him and arching her
back. He held her hips in place as he sucked one breast, using his teeth to nip at the
underside. At this Hermione started to beg. “Please Draco. I … need …” She struggled to
buck against him. “Please.”

Draco looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. “Since you asked so nicely.” He moved her off
his lap, onto the loveseat and went to the floor. Sitting at the edge of the cushion she reached
out to grab his collar and moved in to kiss him again. She wrapped her legs around his hips,
pushing her tongue into his mouth. Draco pulled away, breathing heavily.

“You’re sure, Hermione?” he begged. She nodded, curls tumbling down over her breasts. “Sit
up a bit.” He pressed another kiss onto her lips as he pulled down her knickers. Kneeling in
front of her he stared into her eyes as he lifted her right knee over his shoulder and dipped
down to taste her. She wailed as his nose nudged her clit and his delicate lips closed around
it, sucking gently. Her hands raked through his hair as he chuckled and swirled his tongue
again.

Hermione nearly lost herself right there, mewling and desperately trying to buck her hips
against his lips but he had her pinned to the loveseat. He stopped for a moment and she
nearly hexed him before he started to suck gently on her again. She looked down at him,
nestled between her thighs, his silver eyes fixed on her face and tumbled over the edge.

She came back to herself a moment later as Draco kissed her thigh and stood up. He pulled a
mint out of his pocket and quickly walked into the bedroom, reappearing a moment later with
that soft blanket she’d woken up in. Sitting next to her on the loveseat he pulled her back into
his lap, snuggling down and cuddling into her shoulder.

“Don’t you…” she began, but he shook his head, blushing down to the roots of his hair.

“Already did,” he said lightly. “You have no idea how much you being turned on affects me.”
Her eyes bore into him until and he continued. “Every teenaged wizard learns to cast a
wandless scourgify.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m also hoping that that isn’t the first,
last or only time that Hermione Granger comes for me.” He leaned in for another kiss and
Hermione breathed in his scent. New parchment, new mown grass, spearmint and
sandalwood. She paused, then started giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, leaning back.

“You’re what I smelled in the amortentia in fifth year,” she explained.

His lips quirked. “I’ve always smelled you.” His face disappeared into her curls, nibbling at
her ear.

A knock came suddenly at the door.

“Mimum? Do you want to have breakfast with me?” asked Rose from the other side.

Draco stood up quickly, gently placing Hermione on her feet and started to put himself back
together.

“Just a moment, Rose,” Hermione hesitated. “I’ve got to get dressed.” Draco shooed her
towards the bedroom as he started casting quiet spells to iron out his rumpled clothing. She
quickly threw on jeans and a thick jumper and raced back out to the sitting room. Draco had
his glasses in his hands, cleaning them efficiently.

At her appearance he moved to her side, balanced his glasses on his nose, catching her wrist
and pulling her ear close to his mouth. “Would you like me to stay in the bedroom until
you’ve left? I mean, if you don’t want to explain what I’m doing here.” He was tripping on
his words.

The door rattled a bit and they both turned to stare at it. “Come on, Mimum! I’m hungrier
than a hippogryph.”

Hermione turned to smile at Draco. “I can’t see why we’d need to hide us from Rose. Come
on,” and tugged him over to the door, opening it with one hand firmly nestled into his.
 A First Time for Everything

Draco could hardly believe it. He’d held a quivering Hermione in his arms. The look on her
face as she’d come undone under him. He’d never dreamed that he would get to watch that
happen - ever. Here he was now, hand in hand with Hermione, opening up a door. It felt like
an out of body experience.

Rose narrowed her eyes at them. She held up a single finger, forestalling anything either of
them could have said. He could almost hear the gears grinding inside of her head. No wonder
she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw. He saw her eyes move between Hermione, himself, their
hands together and the ceiling.

Her gaze dropped back to Hermione and she sniffed. “I approve. Breakfast?”

Draco laughed at Hermione’s dumbfounded expression. “Brightest witch of our age, but
you’ve never seen a Ravenclaw put together information like that, have you? Didn’t you ever
see Luna make connections like that? How else did Harry figure out where to find the
diadem? No wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor.” Hermione gave him a sour look as his
attention moved back to Rose. “As for you - how, exactly, did you get in here? From what I
understand, not even Hermione figured out how to enter the teacher’s quarters when she was
at school.”

“Wouldn’t that be telling?” responded Rose cheekily.

“With great power comes great responsibility, Rose. I wouldn’t let the headmistress know
that you’ve found a way in here or she will plug whatever niche you’ve discovered,” he
replied, smothering a smile as Hermione huffed.

They made their way down to the Great Hall. There were only a few students who stayed
during the holidays, so the long tables had been magicked to the sides of the hall, with a few
oval tables left for those who remained. Hermione and Rose had been taking breakfast
together at one of the tables all week, and today Draco joined them.

Rose kept the conversation going at breakfast, detailing the intricacies of her holiday study
planning and how she was interviewing ghosts with the rest of Ravenclaw House for a
research project for Professor Binns.

Draco took advantage of the time Rose was chattering to stare at Hermione. It was easy to
keep a surreptitious eye on her, as she was between himself and Rose . The sunlight that
filtered into the Great Hall bounced off the curls that kept escaping her plait. The smattering
of freckles across the bridge of her nose kept appearing and disappearing as her nose crinkled
with good humour while Rose stood up to do an impression of one of her classmates.

After Rose went scurrying back to the library to do some extra herbology reading Draco
greedily escorted Hermione back to the teacher’s quarters, intent on getting her alone again.
Draco watched her hungrily as she opened the door to her sitting room and invited him in.
She turned and put her arms around his neck. “Where did you learn to do that this morning?”

Dipping his head down, Draco captured her lips again. “Our dreams.”

She pulled back with a grin. “How many others do I have to be jealous of, Draco? It’s only
three on my end.” She thought for a moment. “And two of the three were muggles.”

Draco moved his mouth along her jawline. “I don’t think you can get jealous when it was a
team effort between linked dreams with you , books and the Internet.”

Hermione raised a hand to his chest and pushed him away slightly. “The Internet and our
dreams?” she repeated.

He nodded. “You’d be amazed how much you can learn between books and the Internet. I
thought you liked reading,” he teased.

“That was your first time, outside of dreams?” she seemed stunned.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’m generally a quick learner, if I wasn’t any good I’m sure it
could be better with feedback, but you seemed to be enjoying what I was doing so…”

“Why hadn’t you before?” she whispered.

“You mean the life I’ve lived where any sensible woman should reject me?” he said softly. “I
can’t help being drawn to you, Hermione. But if you wanted me to, I would go.” He raised
her hand to his lips.

Hermione gulped, moving her hands to his waistcoat buttons and started to undo them. “I will
not be the only naked person in the room this time, Draco.”

Draco felt his breath catch as she moved from his waistcoat buttons to his shirt buttons. As
she began to pull the fabric apart he caught both her hands in his. Leaning down he kissed
them. “There are a lot of scars, Hermione. It’s not… pleasant.”

She kissed his chest over their clasped hands. “I know.”

He let go of her hands and took off his cufflinks, tucking them away inside of his pocket,
removing his wand and casting a contraceptive spell on himself and tucking the wand away
again. Draco skimmed his hands up her arms and into her hair, pulling her head towards
himself and kissing her bruisingly.

She kept unbuttoning his shirt, finally pushing it and the waistcoat off his shoulders. She
growled in the back of her throat, casting her eyes upwards to stare into his. “Another layer,
Malfoy? How many do you wear?”

“Just one more more,” he said nervously as his shirt dropped to the floor. He saw her look
down and gasp at his dark mark. “I can glamour it if you want.” he said quickly, fishing in his
pocket for his wand. It had faded over the years, from a midnight black to a dark charcoal,
but it stood out horribly against his pale skin.
She stopped him. “If I saw another, perhaps, but this dark mark saved my parents.” She
moved her gaze to his shoulders, tracking the paths of the crisscrossing scars. Some were
white, others raised and puffy. Still others were still bright red and purple. His undershirt
covered most of them, so she raised it by its hem and pulled it off over his head.

He waited, panting, for her to move. He closed his eyes as she started to trace the scars with
her fingertips, then with her kisses. He shivered.

She took his hand and led him backwards into her bedroom, where he skimmed his fingers up
and under the jumper, pulling it over her head. She moaned a little as he unhooked her bra
and began to kiss and nibble across her chest. “What else did those books say?” she said
breathlessly.

He smiled against her stomach, dropping to his knees in front of her, raising his hands to
release the button on her jeans and pull them and her knickers down to the floor. “They talked
quite a bit about how to be good to your partner,” he kissed her thigh and lifted one of her
feet, pulling her foot up and her jeans off. Hermione whimpered. “They said that women
need more stimulation than men do.” He repeated the process with her other foot. He pushed
her back a little so her bum rested on the bed behind her. “They said to make it about her at
the start, rather than rushing in headlong like a Gryffindor.” He nuzzled into her hip, slowly
running his fingers from her ankle up, across her calf, knee and thigh. “I imagine they meant
that you had to be more… ambitions… like a Slytherin, if you wanted to be any good in bed
with a witch.” His fingers walked up her inner thigh, which trembled under his touch. He
moved her knee to the side, taking advantage of her shift in position to move his mouth to her
folds and reach up through her wetness to find her entrance with his finger.

She mewled, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance and he felt her walls flutter against
him as he added a second, slowly moving them in and out. He looked up at her face, passion
and pleasure writ across it and surrendered himself to watching her lose control. As she
panted her way back from her orgasm Draco stood and laid her back on the bed, shucking his
trousers and climbing in next to her, pulling her close and kissing her neck along her pulse
point.

Hermione took control then, nudging him back on the bed and reaching into his pants. He felt
her hand encircle him and forgot how to breathe for a moment as she gently tugged her hand
down his length. “Hermione,” he croaked out, grabbing her round the shoulders and crushing
her into his chest. She repeated the motion and Draco felt himself grow even harder under
her.

She stretched against his arms, layering kisses across his jaw as he struggled to gain some
control, then pushed his pants down. He stared up at her as she rose up and straddled his hips,
reaching out to hold her hips. She leaned down and kissed him sensually as she lined them up
and sank down onto him. She tried to rise up again but he held her in place with his hands,
his eyes slamming shut. “Are you ok?” she whispered into his ear. He could only nod. How
was he supposed to last at all seeing a naked Hermione jiggling above him and riding his
cock?

Only a few seconds had passed before he opened his eyes again. There was Hermione. A
mild look of concern on her face, impaled on him. He nodded, raising his hand and pulling
her down for a kiss. It was only moments before he came inside her.

A quick scourgify and Draco pulled Hermione down and into his arms, pulling the blanket
over them both. “Now that is going to take some getting used to,” he murmured.

“What?” she asked sleepily.

He grew quite serious. “Trying not to come was dangerously close to occlusion. I’m going to
have to be careful. I definitely don’t want to get carried through the halls while we’re both
naked. Far too many awkward questions.”

Hermione sobered quickly. “I think that would definitely go against McGonagall’s ‘don’t
burn Hogwarts down’ edict.” Draco sighed and cuddled Hermione back onto his left shoulder
so she didn’t have to see his dark mark.

He kissed her temple and asked quietly. “What would you like to do today? I mean, it’s not
even lunch yet.”

******

The rest of the day had gone well, reflected Draco. They’d worked on lesson plans in the
afternoon, sitting side by side in the library. Then they’d eaten supper with Rose and played
three raucous games of Settlers of Catan in a row. Rose had gone back to Ravenclaw tower to
sleep and Hermione had turned to him and come in for a long hug. He rested his chin on her
head and closed his eyes in contentment.

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?” Hermione asked softly.

“I’d love to.”

 New Year's Ball

When Hermione woke up on the morning of December 31st she was alone. This was, she was
discovering, not unusual with Draco. He’d be up an hour ahead of her, showered, shaved and
nattily dressed as he came back with coffee so she could take her time waking up. She could
easily get used to this. Today, however, there was a large golden box wrapped with red ribbon
sitting on the foot of the bed. Draco was leaning in the doorway, sipping on his coffee and
watching her wake.

“Good morning, Granger,” he drawled. “Happy New Year’s Eve. You’ve agreed to go
dancing with me tonight, but I’ve noticed that your wardrobe would be… lacking for a white
tie event. A gentleman to the last, I’ve bought you a dress, should you wish to wear it, though
I would be thrilled to whisk you around a ballroom in sweatpants too.” His eyes crinkled as
he lifted his coffee to his mouth to take a sip, extending the second cup to her.

“How sure are you of the fit?” she asked, taking a quick sip.

“It’s a magicked dress. It will fit, and if there are any adjustments you’d like I’d be happy to
help you with the spells,” he responded softly, tugging a curl playfully.

“What if I don’t like the colour?” she said petulantly.

His lip quirked. I’m nearly certain you will like it, but if not, again, it’s a magicked dress and
we can change its shade. Would you please open the box?” he asked plaintively.

“Fine.” Hermione rolled her eyes and set her coffee down on the nightstand. She reached out
for the ribbon, then lifted the top off the box. “Oh.” She turned to Draco, her eyes wide. She
stood up, lifting the dress carefully out of the box. It was periwinkle, with lots of flirty floaty
layers from a deep periwinkle over the bodice to an almost clear white at the floor. “It’s
gorgeous.” She looked up at Draco who licked his lips and looked like he wanted to shove
her straight into the dress so he could rip her out of it. “What would you have done if I hadn’t
wanted to go dancing tonight?”

His lips twisted up with an echo of the sneer he’d worn so often as a student. “I had grand
plans of either presenting it as a gift myself, giving it to Potter to give to you on the sly, or
passing it to Pansy, who would have forced you into it.” He tipped his head to one side
contemplatively, “Pansy asked to get changed here at Hogwarts before the party so she didn’t
have five different sets of children’s fingerprints up her gown before she left. Would you be
comfortable with that?” At Hermione’s nod he smiled. “I’ll let her know. I’ll be back from
the owlery soon.”

Hermione rolled out of bed, intent on a bath.

******

Pansy arrived just after lunch, hauling a rollercase of makeup and two dress bags. “I still
haven’t decided what I’m going to wear. I’m so excited! A night out without the kids, without
the joke shop gags, with Ron dressed in something that isn’t Chudley Cannon orange. It’s
going to be wonderful,” she gave Hermione a predatory smile. “If he can’t dance I get to kill
Draco. Just win-win-win-win.” She led the way down to Hermione’s rooms chattering the
whole way. Once they got inside, though, she turned to Hermione with a serious expression.
“Has Martina threatened you yet?”

Hermione nodded.

“Excellent. Know I’m next in line. He’s been through a lot, Granger.”

Another nod from Hermione.

“Now,” said Pansy, back to a bubbling young woman sprung from her mob of children.
“What shall we do about your hair? The ball starts at 9, we don’t have a lot of time.”

******

At just before nine, Pansy declared they were done. When Hermione had shown her the dress
Draco had gotten for her she gave a low whistle, walking around the hem. “Blow to the ego,
Granger, that dress. Not a great feeling to know the boy who took you to the Yule Ball
wanted someone else the whole time.” She looked up with a grin. “But I got Ron. That man
loves me more than anything else.”

Then they dissolved into laughter. Children had been good for Pansy. They’d sanded down
her rough edges, bringing out a lustre that had not been there at school. Ron, the devoted
person he was, made Pansy feel safe and secure while she pushed him to be better than he
was.

Pansy looked like a movie star from the 1940s, all cut angles, strong shoulders and a hairstyle
that could have stepped out of a historical docuseries. Hermione’s hair was just as she’d
styled it for the Yule Ball so many years ago. Her curls had been tamed and defrizzed to an
inch of its life. Her curls coiled down her back, bouncing and swinging.

Hermione and Pansy moved out into the common room. There was Draco, fixing Ron’s tie.
They turned almost as one, with near identical expressions of wonder on their faces. Pansy’s
gown touched the floor with matching gloves in Slytherin green with silver piping and black
lace along the bottom. Ron couldn’t take his eyes off of her as Draco elbowed him in the ribs,
reminding him to extend an elbow for his wife. They moved smoothly to the floo, calling out
“Nott Manor” and stepping through the green flames.

Draco’s manners, thumped into him from birth, needed no reminder to extend an elbow.
Though Hermione would swear later that his mouth had gaped open for almost ten seconds
before he’d remembered to close it. Draco, as always, made wearing white tie and tails look
as easy and natural as breathing without a hair out of place. “You look exquisite, Hermione,”
he said, eyes fixed on hers. “I asked mother to stop by my vault earlier today and pick
something up for me.” Draco picked up a hard jewellery box from a side table and presented
it to her. “They should match the dress.” He opened the box, showing a bracelet, necklace
and earrings that matched each other in a beautiful shade of tanzanite with hammered gold
linking the jewels. They were nestled on midnight blue velvet that made the jewellery sparkle
as though it were unreal.

“They’re gorgeous, Draco,” stuttered Hermione. She put on the earrings, watching Draco’s
hands tremble as he clasped the bracelet around her wrist, almost holding his breath as she
swept her curls away from her neck so he could put the necklace on, settling it over her
collarbone and stealing a kiss on her nape at the same time. Draco shook out his hands once
and held out an elbow to her again and leading her through the floo.

******

Nott Manor was garlanded in lights, and she and Draco joined the line of attendees behind
Ron and Pansy. They reached the front of the line and were announced as Lord Malfoy and
Miss Granger. It caused quite a stir around the ballroom and Malfoy steered her towards their
friends and away from prying eyes. There were, Hermione mused, about a hundred and fifty,
maybe two hundred people crammed into the Nott estate. Harry and Ginny were standing
with Ron and Pansy, Bill and Fleur, Percy and Penelope and Blaise Zambini.

Blaise looked ecstatic to see Draco. “You never come to these things.”

Draco, for his part, simply replied, “I’ve found someone worth coming for.”

The other Slytherin pouted. “Aren’t Theo and I great company?”

Draco considered that. “You both are, but I’m not a great one for crowds anymore. Got
caught running with a bad one in school.”

His comment caught Blaise off guard, and he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll have to
find my husband and tell him that. Who’s seen Theo last?” Blaise disappeared back into the
crowd just as the music started to swirl up around the room.

Draco stared down at Hermione. “Dance with me?” He held out his hand and Hermione took
it shyly, allowing him to pull her into his arms, readying himself. As the waltz began she felt
him move steadily around the ballroom, guiding her around the other couples, causing her
skirt to flair around her ankles. His eyes were steady and deep as he stared down at her. “Do
you know how often I wish I’d cut in at the Yule Ball?” he asked her. “There are many people
who get more than they deserve in life, and with you on my arm I can tell you I have gotten
far more than I ever could imagine.”

Hermione spun around the ballroom, conducted to and fro in Draco’s arms. He was so light
on his feet. The band was in good form. Like the covetous person he was he jealously
guarded her between dances to prevent others from cutting in. The only dance another got
with her was when Harry persuaded him to trade partners for a dance halfway through the
night, and Draco and Ginny were at their side the moment the music stopped.

The last night she’d spent in a hot ballroom like this was during the Yule Ball in fourth year.
How much had changed since then. She giggled to herself, losing herself in the dancing and
Draco. After almost an hour the band had a break. Couples broke out through the doors to
walk on the terraces and through the gardens, where a containment field and warming charms
had been set along the pathways. Draco and Hermione wandered the paths set out in the
garden, ending on a bench where Draco pulled her in for a quick kiss.

“Granger, I don’t think I could have ever imagined how good you look in that dress. What
was I thinking?” he murmured into her hair. “I want to drag you back to Hogwarts without
stopping so I can tear off that dress in private, and yet I can’t help but want to pull you back
in to dance with the same fervour. So I ask,” he said, his eyes dark and mercurial, “What
would the brightest witch of our age like to do right now?”

She pretended to think about it. “Well, Draco, since we have the rest of our lives to have sex,
why don’t we go back inside to dance, then go back to Hogwarts?” He looked stunned, and
Hermione took the opportunity to tuck herself into his arms and under his chin.

That was when the flashbulb went off and Hermione spotted a dark figure who stood up and
immediately disapparated with a crack. Draco’s face lost what little colour it possessed and
he dropped his forehead to hers. “We need to go in and find Theo.”

The rest of the night had been chaos for Hermione, Draco and the rest of their friends. Pansy
was apocalyptic with fury that her fancy night out had been ruined by a photographer, and not
by the three times Ron had stepped on her toes that night. Harry and Ginny were worried
about how Draco and Hermione were feeling, constantly asking if they were fine. Hermione
felt the furthest away from fine. She felt numb. What was it about periwinkle that seemed to
cause a night to implode?

Theo and Blaise were beside themselves. They’d never expected paparazzi to infiltrate the
party. Eventually Draco and Hermione made their way back to Hogwarts. Draco left her at
the door of her room with a distracted peck on the cheek and a promise to check in on her the
next morning. “Happy New Year, Hermione,” he’d smiled awkwardly before whisking away
to his own rooms to change and start sending out an army of owls.

Though she really didn’t want to, Hermione carefully hung up the periwinkle dress, put the
jewellry back in the case for Draco to pick up again in the morning, and showered before
tumbling into bed.
 The Howlers

Draco took only a short catnap on New Year’s Eve in between owls to his agents, the Daily
Prophet, the Quibbler and Witch Weekly. None of his agents could get the photograph that
had been taken of Hermione snuggling up under his chin in the gardens. This could be awful,
not just for himself - he was used to bad press - but for Hermione. The press had been hateful
for the first year after the Dark Lord’s fall. He’d refused to engage with them and stories
about him had been sporadic after the first anniversary. That first anniversary. The Prophet
had run the mug shots of every Death Eater that had been captured on May 2nd, with Draco’s
taking centre stage on the front page. He’d looked sick and defeated. The speculative column
about how he’d slithered out of any responsibility because of his family’s position and money
was now a common theme in the “where are they now?” column that appeared every month
on the second.

Dennis Creevey hated him. More than any other person involved with the Death Eaters.
Draco would bet good money on Dennis hating him more than any of Voldemort’s other
victims. Colin, his older brother, had been lost fighting on the lake side of the castle during
the battle. Harry had run off to confront Snape for his memories and the Dementors
descended on the castle, ready to feed.

Colin had originally thought it had been Hermione in the small clearing by the lake, being too
far away to see anything but the otter patronus chasing away Dementors. He’d been calling
her name when he’d burst into the clearing, then made the snap decision to trust Draco,
sending his own basilisk to help clear the sky. Creevey’s patronus had not been strong enough
to keep him safe and Draco had not been able to save him from their kiss.

Draco had carried his body back into the castle after Voldemort gave his ultimatum, laying
him down in the Great Hall and slipping away again. He’d fought bravely, but Dennis,
excellent journalist that he was, had found out that Draco had been the one to return his body
from the grounds and made it his personal mission to take him down, believing that Draco
was the one responsible.

He’d gone to visit the Creeveys on the last day in April, just before the first anniversary, to
tell them about how their son had died bravely, defending the castle with him. He’d instead
been beaten to within an inch of his life by Dennis and his father, and thrown out of their
home. It was just after that, arriving home to the parlour and staring at the spot on the tiles
where Hermione had once lain that his first occlumency-related attack had happened.

Whenever he found himself in the press Dennis took every pot-shot he could at him from his
desk at the Daily Prophet. The editorials after he’d gotten the job at Hogwarts about how he
was corrupting a new generation of Death Eaters. Witch Weekly dubbing him an eligible
bachelor. Any time he set a toe into the wizarding world and was photographed Dennis
Creevey was there.

He sighed, and decided to make Hermione her coffee a little early, set it under a statis spell,
then wait for the paper and whatever howlers came with it in the dungeons.
 ******

Hermione’s eyes opened and landed on a cup of coffee waiting for her, steam held still in the
air above it. She neutralised the statis spell, sat up a bit, and took a long drink. Sure, Draco
was a morning person, but if it meant fresh coffee before her feet hit the floor every day she
would accept it. She smiled at herself for a moment, remembering the dancing and then
shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose and fighting away the headache that
threatened. Why had Draco been so upset about one photograph? She slowly woke up,
draining her coffee and getting herself ready for the day. Looking at the clock it was only
eight o’clock. She tried Draco’s rooms but he wasn’t in, so she started to cross the common
room, expecting to find him either at breakfast or in the dungeons when the fire flared up,
depositing Harry and Ginny onto the carpet. Both of them holding copies of the Daily
Prophet.

She stared at them stupidly. “What?”

Ginny gave her a hug. “Don’t worry. Ron and Pansy are going to the Daily Prophet offices.
We are going to get this cleared up.”

Hermione knit her brows together. “What are you talking about?”

Harry held up the front page.

Member of the Golden Trio Imperius’d!

Her face paled and she grabbed the section out of Harry’s hands.

Hermione Granger, who recently moved back to England to teach at the illustrious
Hogwarts Academy, may have been imperius’d by Death Eater Draco Malfoy. “Lord”
Malfoy dragged her to the Nott Manor New Year’s Eve party last night clearly against
her will, forcing her to dance and drape herself over him. Multiple requests for
information from Hogwarts have been denied to this reporter. As our loyal readers
know, “Lord” Malfoy has been training a new generation of Slytherin Death Eaters at
Hogwarts for almost a decade. What plans does he have for Ms. Granger? We agonise
here at the Prophet, knowing of this Death Eater’s horrific actions during the war.
What fate awaits Ms. Granger at this Death Eater’s whim?

How many other young women has this Death Eater seduced through the Dark Arts? Is
any witch safe in his presence? Won’t someone think of the children he’s in a position to
influence every day?

If you have information about this vile crime, have a story to share about your own
imperius’d romance with him or have other concerns about “Lord” Malfoy’s Death
Eater past, contact Dennis Creevey or Romilda Vane-Creevey in Investigative
Journalism by owl.

More to come!

She looked up at Harry in horror.

Harry was tapping his foot. “Where’s Draco? Has he seen it yet?”

She could only shake her head. I haven’t seen him yet this morning. “I think he’s in the
dungeons or at breakfast.”

Ginny snorted. “I’d bet on the dungeons over the breakfast table. He doesn’t eat enough as it
is.”

They rushed down to the dungeons together, hearing a vile cacophony of voices in the
hallways starting on the first step down from the first floor hallway. A disgusted-looking
Draco was sitting on a stool, with three quick-notes quills at the ready taking dictation and
then sorting the howlers into piles.

silencio

“Don’t do that, Hermione,” he snapped at her. “If you do that and there are this many…” his
next words were drowned out as the howlers broke through the spell and got louder than
they’d been before. Draco pulled off his glasses and held them in his palm as he pinched the
bridge of his nose. He gestured for them to sit at the table the notes were piling up on and
snatched a completed message from the air. He mumbled something to the note and it scooted
over to a pile and settled itself on top. Draco took another. “This is probably going to go on
all morning and I won’t get a break. Either help sort or I’ll see you at lunch.”

Hermione, Ginny and Harry all summoned their own quills, though they could each only
handle one at a time, and got started. Draco had set up baskets for the threats: stupid threats;
actual threats; harmless nutters; and the heartbroken. It was amazing to Hermione how
quickly he sorted out the heartbroken. With a practised eye he would quickly scan the
message and sort. According to his system the heartbroken was a pile that vastly exceeded
the rest. It took almost two hours for them to be able to stop writing the howler messages and
the dungeon descended into ear-ringing silence.

Hermione picked up a random message from the top of the heartbroken pile. Draco looked
over her shoulder. “Ah, yes. The Livermores. Spencer, their eldest, decided that the Dark
Lord’s army was the place to be. Voldemort killed him so that his blood could be used in a
spell and then Nagini ate him. They write to me every time I’m in the papers because I
should have been the sacrifice instead of their son. You see, according to them,I knew what I
was doing when I signed up and Spencer didn’t. I hope they’re doing well. Spencer, aside
from his views about muggles, wasn’t bad compared to some of the other Death Eaters. I
know every single one of the stories in the heartbroken pile.”

“You seem remarkably calm about this,” she sputtered.

He shrugged defensively. “This happens every time there’s a big story about my post war life
in the Prophet. Worse this time I think because it also involves me seducing and using the
imperius curse against a witch who could eat me for breakfast and I’m hoping actually likes
me.”

Harry came over and bumped his shoulder into Draco’s. “Do you want to hide out at Pines
Cottage with us for the next few days, until things calm down again?” Ginny nodded beside
Harry as Draco deflated a bit.

“I’ll be ok,” replied Draco. “I’ll pass the actual threats over to the aurors. I’m sure they’re
tired of hearing from me by now. My solicitor is working on the Daily Prophet. Perhaps this
time they can convince someone to crack down on their provocative prose.” Draco looked at
Hermione. “I’m so sorry. I tried to buy the photo but Dennis took it himself. I offered him a
hundred thousand galleons and even still…” he trailed off. “It will never bring back his
brother.”

Hermione hugged him impulsively, breathing in and settling her head under his chin again.

******

Draco stood frozen for a moment before his hands came up to hug her back. Her breathing
evened out, calm and content against him.

“It will be ok, Draco,” she told him.

“I can only hope you’re right,” he replied.

Harry, who had been going through the pile of papers labelled ‘actual threats’ lifted up one of
the howler messages. “This is the third real threat in a row from the Niles-Price family. Have
the Aurors told you when they’re going to do a follow up with them?”

Ginny nudged Harry, pointing to where Draco stood with Hermione.

“What?” he asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes, then locked on to Hermione where they both dissolved into giggles.

Draco looked over at Harry. “What are they on about?”

Harry just shrugged back. “Molly has the kids. Do you two want to grab lunch together in the
Great Hall?” He looked over at Draco with raised eyebrows. “Do you know what’s on
today?”

“Welsh rarebit,” replied Draco.

The four went to lunch together, where they talked about anything but the paparazzi, the Ball
at the Nott Estate or the mound of Howler threats that lay down in the dungeons. Just as they
were finishing Hermione turned to Draco. “How do you do that?” she asked him.

“Do what, exactly?” he asked cautiously.

Hermione turned to Ginny for support. “He is eating toast. He eats toast for breakfast every
morning. Do you see any crumbs?” she waved her hand in his direction.

Draco snorted. “Let me tell you about Nanny Christine.”

 Competing Research Projects

Hermione wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told Draco about breaking the blood runes for his
mother. The books she’d taken from the Malfoy family library were very helpful, at least in
that regard. She kept bringing out the photograph of the runes and working with translation
guides - but only when Draco was teaching classes and she wasn’t. January had slipped away
from them, and February was taking over the castle.

Draco had mentioned that he’d taken the OWL in fifth year, receiving an O for outstanding.
Hermione had written to and received his written papers and tests from the exams he’d taken.
He hadn’t taken any NEWTS, having spent his seventh year as the Order of the Phoenix's
double agent. The only NEWT he’d taken was for potions, and only because the Sorbonne
had insisted on it. Hermione brought out all the runes assignments and texts they’d used up to
the end of sixth year. Draco’s tutors had also brought several extra texts in to teach him, and
she’s ploughed through those as well.

She tipped back her chair a bit, enjoying the feeling of balance and weightlessness it afforded
her.

This was the sum of knowledge that Draco had been taught of runes. Now to figure out how
the blood magic had interacted with the runes. She had borrowed every book on blood magic
from the Hogwarts library and had popped through the floo to the Manor several times to get
dark magic books on the subject, the last visit she’d had she went to Draco’s childhood
bedroom to get a better look at the runes in person.

The desperation that Draco must have felt shook her. It was through this lens that she’d
started compiling aspects of the magic that must have been pushed together to form the
binding and protection spells.

So far she’d teased out that Draco had first bound his protection to herself, and then to Harry
and Ron through her. The multiple layers of runes were like the strands of a rope. Undoing
the bindings could only happen one layer at a time, peeling back carefully, like the layers of
an onion, working towards the core. There might be something in using time spells to
separate the various layers off the wall like sheets of paper, that might also give her a clue as
to which runes had the most coats.

She chewed on the end of her quill wondering, for at least the hundredth time in this project,
how powerful was Draco’s magical core? He’d worked blood magic with drops that had been
left behind after their escape in the manor, over a huge distance, without the subjects’
awareness. His mother could prevaricate and say that he was driven to do so, but the sheer
force of magical power that must have not only been used, but hidden from Lord Voldemort
himself while being beaten and tortured on a regular basis was nothing short of singular. It
had taken three of them to contain Draco’s unintended magic while Narcissa worked on him,
and none of the three who’d been doing the containing were slouches at magic. Harry had
shared a picture he’d taken of the destroyed Astronomy tower before it had been rebuilt after
Draco’s attack up there. It had not just been the telescope that had been destroyed but eight
floors down had been reduced to rubble.

He was almost wasted at potions. She snorted to herself. He loved potions. He was good at
them. However, if he’d chosen combat as an adult she wasn’t sure there could be anyone who
could take him in single combat. Between his ability to do wandless magic, his inventiveness
in new spell creation and his past magic use Hermione could not help but be impressed.

If only he weren’t so stubborn about the whole reformed Death Eater thing. I mean, it was
good how stubborn he’d been during the war, but Hermione wanted to bang her head against
something hard when they argued about how best to confront Dennis Creevey. She had three
or four good ideas about how to neutralise his influence at the Daily Prophet, how to tap into
the goodwill that Draco had created with past students and their parents, even how to write a
tell-all book advertised by Harry. He’d dismissed them all.

“Their families were torn apart in that war, and I’m still here and an easy target for their hate.
They will, eventually, wear themselves down over the rock of my indifference and learn to
live with their grief,” he’d explained to her patiently. “I know it’s taken longer than Snape
ever took, but he wasn’t part of a battle here at Hogwarts. This school is part of the common
shared experience of magical families and many young people died somewhere they should
have been safe.”

She’d nearly screamed at how blase he’d been over the death threats.

“Don’t worry, minx. I’ve been getting death threats since the Battle of Hogwarts and I’m still
here,” he’d said with a twinkle in his grey eyes. “A few howlers keep my ego in check.”

And Dennis was still writing editorials about how Draco had (supposedly) slept his way
through the Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw female populations throughout his time as a
student at Hogwarts. The howlers that came in were now fewer and farther between. They
grated at Hermione. How dare they take issue with him after he’d done so much?

She sighed and glanced at the clock, she had two hours before Draco would come looking for
her. Wednesday was an odd day for them. She taught in the morning and he taught in the
afternoon. They barely had a chance to say hello over lunch, which made it the perfect day to
go to head into the manor without him coming after her. She’d try the time spells. It should
be perfectly safe, and Narcissa would be there anyway.

******

Draco wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Hermione about the MindHealer Harry had set him up
with just after Hallowe’en. Dr. Augustus White was a prominent and esteemed member of the
mindhealing community and was incredibly discreet. With the distance between Hogwarts
and his offices in Munich, he communicated with him over a two-way mirror. Almost
annihilating Hermione and being a danger to his students was an anathema to him. He
shuddered as he packed up potions supplies that Wednesday afternoon.

His third years had been dismissed early to write essays about the dangers of inhaling potions
fumes after two Hufflepuffs had gotten their noses too close to shrinking solution and had to
be unshrunk quickly as they’d almost been stepped on by their fellow students.

His thoughts wandered back to this morning’s session. Gus, as Dr. White had insisted he be
called, had walked him through the occlumency he’d had to do between Hermione’s escape
from the Manor and the Battle at Hogwarts. Dr. Gus, as Draco insisted on calling him, had
some interesting theories about exposure therapy, but that would require Draco going to
Munich for weeks inpatient, and Draco was, at this point, unwilling to give up time with
Hermione or his students at Hogwarts and Oxford to go inpatient for who knows how long.

The good news was that he had made great strides against his own occlusion instincts when it
came to Hermione. Talk amongst the students had swirled in early January when they’d
returned. They’d read the article, featuring his mug shot, dancing with Hermione and their
chaste but photographed moment in the garden and waves of support at the start of every
class had awaited him the first week back.

Student reactions ranged from incredulous distress at the ‘awful people’ who were being
mean to their professor to Gryffindors who wanted to track down Creevey in the same
manner as Hermione. He appreciated that at least this next generation wouldn’t hate him so
much, and wondered if his students had stopped some from sending howlers in the first place.

Hermione, though, had gotten onto the idea of confronting Creevey somehow. He was totally
against the idea. Snape had tried for the first five years after the first war to reform his image
and nothing had worked, even with Dumbledore’s support. Sure it had been just over a
decade, but so many more families had been torn apart by the second one. Families needed
someone to hate and Draco was fine being hated. It saved him from having to hate himself in
the years following the war as he got his education in France and Oxford.

Dr. Gus wanted him to start acknowledging his own feelings. He’d started a gratitude journal
which was really more like a list of all the things he loved about Hermione. She slept like a
starfish, but was always reaching out to grab him in the night and burrow into his side. The
way her eyes always lit up when he passed her a coffee in the morning before she’d even
gotten out of bed. Those sounds she made when he did something she truly liked in bed. That
she’d allowed him access into her life was incredible and though she drove him crazy with
her tenacity on this whole former Death Eater thing he could admire the refusal to sweep
away a problem or accept a situation without reaching out to try and fix it.

Last night she’d surprised him again with the gift of a new guitar to replace the old one he’d
immolated during his accidental magic. Then to make it even more incredible she’d opened
up a piano and started playing with him. Though her voice was untrained it was breathy and
full of emotion. She knew an incredible number of muggle songs he didn’t. Weird Al, it
seemed, was especially beloved. He had sent away for some of his albums on vinyl as a
Valentine’s present for her. It really was too bad that nothing past a phonograph could really
work inside of the castle with its layers of residual magic.

As he was going up the steps from the dungeon he missed a step and fell. It felt like his
magical core had been picked up and thrown down onto the ground. He scrambled up the
stairs, face going white. What had happened? Where was Hermione? He ran down the
corridor towards the teacher’s quarters when he realised that there was screaming coming
from the defence against the dark arts classroom. He stopped in the doorway and his heart
stopped. Harry was lying on the floor, white as a sheet. Ignoring the OWL students who were
having kittens at their desks he pressed his fingers into Harry’s neck to check his pulse and
started casting diagnostic spells. As he was casting he felt his magic depleting. The falling
sensation was back and he collapsed but forced his eyes open again. He narrowed his eyes,
willing his vision to stop doubling and studied the diagnostics then looked over at the
students. They looked terrified.

“Josephs, Vinetaller and Pierce, use locomotor and take Professor Potter to the hospital wing.
I don’t know what’s happened, but he’s still breathing. The rest of you - go to the
headmistress’ office, tell her what’s happened. I’m going to get more help.” They stared at
him until he raised his voice. “Move!”

expecto patronum

“Ginny. There’s something wrong with Harry. He’s in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.”

He closed his eyes and cast his eyes inside. Though shaken, his magic was coming back.
What had happened? This shouldn’t happen. He didn’t have any drains on him and… his eyes
snapped open. The blood runes. Where was Hermione? He rushed to the teacher’s quarters
and burst into Hermione’s rooms. She wasn't there but there were stacks of books on runes
and blood magic. Back to the common room, he cast the visions of the past spell, something
he did if potions ingredients went missing from the stores. There would be no second years
making polyjuice in the bathroom on his watch.

visiones praeterita

Forcing his wand against the past he ticked back the minutes and hours, as if watching a sped
up rewind of reality. He could do nothing about what happened, but at least he would know
when Hermione left. There. She’d thrown powder into the floo and was headed… to the
manor? He released the spell and followed her into the Malfoy library.

He hit the ground running on the other side. He could feel the pulses of magic resonating
with him as he sprinted through the manor, heading for his old bedroom. As he burst through
the door his mother stood up, ready to defend Hermione and lowered it only when she
realised who had burst in. He looked over where Hermione was working and blanched.

She’d tranched the runes, pulling out all the layers to see what had been written first and was
making notes, the layers stretched from one wall all the way to the opposite one. She looked
nearly done, but hadn’t looked up as he’d burst in. He rounded on his mother.

“We need to shut this down. Now,” he barked.

“She’s almost done, Draco. I know you’re angry but…” she sputtered.

“We have to shut it down now. Potter is in a coma,” with that he turned.

finite incantatum
He pushed back on the time spell, pressing it back into the wall until the layers of runes
melded back together. Hermione stood in the centre of the room, looking put out.

Draco was in a rage as he cut her off. “What the fuck were you doing, Granger? Potter went
into a coma. I have no idea what’s happened to the Weasel. For fucks sake do NOT fuck with
those again without us here. I’m going to make sure the other two are ok.” He turned without
another word and ran back to the floo. Where would Ron have been at this time in the
afternoon? He needed to find Pansy, and fast.
 Sigils

Hermione felt stunned. Something was definitely wrong. Harry was in a coma? Really? He
had to be. Draco looked furious with her. She exchanged a worried look with Narcissa. Draco
had bludgeoned her spell through sheer force and she needed to clean up so she could leave it
safely. She and Narcissa took down the shields and wards Draco had gone through like paper
and carefully put away the spell ingredients she’d used to set the tranching.

When they’d finished she turned to Narcissa. “Do you think he’ll forgive me? I really thought
this spell would be safe.”

Narcissa smiled at her reassuringly. “I’m going to suggest you two really start being honest
with each other. You’ve swept over the surface questions, but have you started digging any
deeper?” She swept a curl behind Hermione’s ear. “Every couple has their first fight and
either chooses honesty or lies. Lucius never gave me much of a choice when we had ours. I
chose to protect Draco.” Her smile was tight.

On the window behind them there was a quick staccato of pecking and they turned and let in
an owl from St. Mungo’s. There was a short message in Draco’s handwriting.

They’ll both be fine. Room A113.

Narcissa gave her a little push towards the library.

She nervously traversed the floo into St. Mungo’s, making her way to the accidental magic
ward, room 113. As she approached the room she was spotted by both Ginny and Pansy, who
rushed towards her. Pansy looked like she’d been crying and Ginny looked like she wanted to
murder her.

“What were you thinking, Hermione?” hissed Ginny. “You fucked around with blood magic
and didn’t tell anyone? Warn anyone? This has to be one of the most reckless things you’ve
ever done in your life and I’m counting riding the dragon out of Gringotts as less reckless.”

Pansy rounded on her sister-in-law. “Hermione was trying to break that blasted thing that
Draco put together. This is the Dark Lord’s fault and no one else’s. Who has that much
experience with blood magic these days? The last person who studied them effectively was
Dumbledore and he burned everything to protect Harry to begin with!”

Ginny gave Pansy a brittle grimace. “Hogwarts was supposed to be safer for Harry.”

“It is. Ron ended up with some frostbite because he collapsed outside. Harry not only had
Draco there within minutes but Pomfrey was able to alert us quickly. Can you imagine if he
hadn’t been there?” Pansy asked softly.

Turning towards Hermione Ginny started crying and they ended up in a three way hug of
relieved women. A healer stuck their head out of the ward. Hermione looked into the friendly
eyes of Susan Bones. “Hermione! I didn’t know you’d be coming. Ginny, Pansy, come on in,
they’ve woken up and want to see you.”

Ginny and Pansy looped their arms into Hermione’s and brought her in with them. There was
Harry in one bed and Ron in the other, eating chocolate pudding with single-minded
determination.

Ron pointed in her direction with his spoon. “Why did you not get to feel that? That was
bloody awful.” He looked into the corner where a recliner was set up.

Draco’s voice floated into the rest of the room. “Probably because she was actually inside the
spell when I got to her. She’d tranched it so she could find out what the bottom layers were.
An interesting strategy if it hadn’t pulled power out of the subjects of the spell in the first
place.” Hermione thought he sounded tired. She didn’t have the courage to look into his
corner. Draco made a gagging noise. “God I hate chocolate.”

“So, what did we learn, Hermione?” asked Harry.

“To talk to people whose protection runes I’m messing with before I start messing with
them?” she replied meekly. “I’m so sorry. I thought the tranching was safe because I wasn’t
doing anything to change the spell, just learn about it more.”

“They’re going to be alright though,” said Susan cheerfully. “It shook their magical cores but
no lasting damage. Lord Malfoy, you’re going to want a second chocolate pudding. The
others are on their thirds and you’ve still not finished one.” Susan moved over to the corner
Hermione was trying to avoid and handed another to Draco. “I’m quite surprised you were on
your feet when you got here.”

Hermione snuck a glance in Draco’s direction. He was glaring in her direction. “I’ll eat it,
Bones, just leave it with me.” She flushed and looked away.

They stayed with Ron and Harry for another hour while their condition was being monitored.
Draco slowly ate the chocolate pudding that had been left for him. As much as he said he
hated it, the little colour he normally had in his cheeks was coming back. Ron had them all in
stitches by the end with stories from the Weasley joke shop he helped manage in Diagon
Alley. Soon after they’d been discharged Pansy and Ginny took their husbands home to sleep
it off and Hermione was left alone with Draco.

She still refused to look at him, and he extended a hand with a sigh, pulling them through the
fireplace and into the common room.

“Your rooms or mine?” he asked with gritted teeth. “If we’re going to have it out it shouldn’t
be in public.”

“Yours,” she whispered. At least this way she could keep her memories of lovemaking and
domestic life with Draco separate from whatever was going to come next. They crossed to his
door in silence and she followed him in.
The door had no sooner closed behind her when Draco spun around and got right in her face.
“I am not the Weasel, Granger.”

“I know that, Malfoy,” she spat back at him.

“I am not Harry. I don’t need you to do my homework for me. I am an intelligent person who
can help you. I know you’re independent but for fuck’s sake.” He huffed out of his nose.
“What about me makes you think that I’m not a worthy partner for you?” His voice was
unyielding.

“I’ve never had someone I could work with before. Harry and Ron always needed me to
figure it out for them most of the time. When your mother asked me to break the runes it
didn’t even occur to me to ask you for help. I’ve been alone so long looking after myself and
Rose together I…”

Hermione raised her eyes to his. He’d definitely been angry. Now, though, she could see the
tension bubbling under the surface smoothing away.

He closed his eyes. “I’ve been doing the same fucking thing. I have been seeing a mindhealer
every Wednesday morning in the hopes of never occluding around you again.” He took a
deep breath and opened his eyes, speaking rapidly. “Hermione. I know I’m not very
approachable but I’m always here for you. We could have - we should be - tackling this
together, not apart. Gods, Hermione. I could have lost you again.” His voice had started to
crack. “I can help you, watch your back. With whatever you need. But you can’t shut me out
of fixing problems I caused in the first place.”

She stared deeply into his eyes, honeyed chocolate meeting silvery grey. She nodded, and
Draco let out a sigh, grabbing her into a tight hug. “I thought I’d find you like I found Potter.
It was bad, Hermione. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Hermione hiccuped. “I really thought the tranching wouldn’t affect you three. You weave
tight blood runes, Draco.”

He gave a relieved sigh, kissing the top of her head and moving them against the
bookshelves. “You’re a frustrating witch sometimes.” His kisses continued down the side of
her head and she tilted to give him better access. “You’re so impulsive.” His mouth came
down on her pulse point behind her jaw and he sucked gently on it. “I swear by Slytherin
himself that I can be as active a partner as you need in magic. You won’t only have to use
one-syllable words like you had to with the wonder twins.” Her body bumped into the shelf,
rattling it a bit against the wall. His eyes started to twinkle a bit. “Will you walk me through
your research tomorrow?” Hermione nodded.

Draco pulled her in for a blistering kiss. They moved together languidly against the shelves.
Draco’s hand had come up under her shirt to tease her breast as the other held them close
together, pressed up against the books. Hermione held onto Draco as though he were a life
preserver in the middle of the ocean, scraping her fingers down his back and feeling the
bumpy skin under his many layers.
“Don’t think you’re getting away with this,” he panted as he broke away from her. “I’m still
pissed you didn’t talk to me about this.”

“I know,” she replied, feeling his heart beat faster, and pushing him into the bedroom. They
twisted around each other, kissing while ripping off their clothes and tumbling into Draco’s
bed. “Those wards you put up are really strong.”

He nodded, moving a hand down to press against her and run circles around her clit. “Thank
you for noticing. I worked hard on them.” She bucked against his fingers and keened. It felt
like he was everywhere at once. “I’m not sure I would’ve thought to tranche them. That was
genius,” he murmured against her breast, nipping and sucking as her back arched towards
him.

“I got the idea from one of your essays on runes from fifth year,” she panted, moving him
above her and clasping his hips with her thighs. He groaned as he entered her.

“Clever girl, pulling my OWL papers,” he growled into her neck. “Did I have a higher score
than you?”

It was later, when the sweat was cooling on their bodies when Hermione looked at the
carvings just above the curtains around Draco’s bed. She sat up suddenly, startling Draco who
was nodding off, cuddling into her side. “What?” he mumbled sleepily.

“How long have you had this bed?” she asked.

“It was my several times great grandfather’s, why?” he raised himself up on his elbows.

She pointed up to the runes. “Fidelity, honour, love, sacrifice and a binding sigil.” They
repeated over and over on the inside of this bed. She stared at him. “Was this in your
bedroom at the manor?”

“Yes? I just took the furniture when I started teaching here…” He looked dumbstruck at
Hermione. “I mean, how often do you really look at furniture you’ve slept on your whole
life?”

Hermione raised a finger to trace over the binding sigil. “I’ve never seen something like this
before. It has to be really really old." She turned to grin at Draco. "This is where I’m going to
start. Still ready to help?”
 Nostros Malfoy
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It had taken almost a month, but as February slipped away into March, Hermione had finally
broken the sigil with Draco’s help. They’d scoured every old French text that mentioned
sigils or runes. Draco and Hermione had searched the Malfoy library, the Hogwarts library,
and Draco had used his connections to get them into the Sorbonne’s collections and the
Oxford magical library. Martina had been a great help there. They’d left a copy of the sigil
with her and she’d gone through nearly fifty texts over one weekend and come up dry.
Hermione had felt useless in the Sorbonne, as translation spells, while effective, were not
nearly as quick as reading in the language they were printed in, which Draco had been able to
do.

The Malfoy family, as Hermione was learning, was quite ancient. Draco could trace his roots
to just before the Roman invasion of England, when the Malfoi family lived in the area in
France where Rouen would eventually be. Noble and ancient house of Malfoy indeed. There
were even married-in Veela ancestors in almost every other generation until the 1800s. The
bed itself dated from a hundred years before Shakespeare. That generation had had two heirs,
a rarity in the line. One heir had married and produced their own son, continuing the line, but
the second son had commissioned the bed. Nostros Malfoy, she understood, had died early,
only 19, during the Battle of Bosworth Field on the wizarding side of the War of the Roses,
fighting for King Henry VII.

Nostros had been deeply in love with Elizabeth of York, the king’s future wife. He protected
her through the invalidation of her parent’s marriage, the deaths of her two little brothers by
Richard III, and kept her safe through court politics. She had married the king almost a year
after Nostros’ death, but they found the sigil buried deep in the Bodleian library in his
journal, which Hermione had copied, leaving the original in the drawer. Pour protection de
l’amour.

It was a wand movement, writ out in graceful flowing curves.

“That was why we couldn’t find it in any Rune dictionary,” she crowed triumphantly at
Draco. “It’s a wand movement. Fidelity, honour, love, sacrifice and then cast the binding by
copying the movement that the sigil represents.” Her cheeks flushed with happiness as she
hugged him.

He smiled down at her and kissed her nose. “I knew we would find something eventually.”

“Draco.” Hermione got very serious. “Do you still have the blood you used to cast the first
layer?”

Draco nodded, walked into his bedroom and reemerged with a square of cloth that he put in
her hand. “Be careful with this.”
Hermione looked at the crumpled handkerchief in her hand in disbelief. The monogram in the
corner denoted its owner, who was standing across from her. On it were five tiny red spots
and a smeared thumbprint. “That’s it?” she asked, incredulous.

“That’s it,” he nodded, taking a sip of tea. “I wiped it up off the floor after Potter and Weasley
spirited you out of there. You know that most of the blood got on your clothes, not the floor,
right? The thumbprint is my blood.” He wouldn’t look at her. Talking about her torture in the
manor always made him shut down.

“Draco, you know I need to see you cast the first layer at least, right?” her eyes bored holes
into the back of his head.

His shoulders tensed and she could see his knuckles whiten around the saucer.

“I need to see it. Everything else you did built on that foundational layer. Did you say
anything? Which way did you do the wand movement? How did the blood runes react after? I
have a lot of questions.”

His laugh at that was short and barking.

“Always more questions with you…” he said, his voice faltering. “Let me talk to Dr. Gus
about it. We will also need observers. Just in case.” He swung his eyes over to her, looking at
her over his lenses. “You know, I’ve never asked to see your painful memories, Hermione.
This one will be far worse than seeing me obliviate your parents. Are you certain? Because
Potter could come in with me and take notes and bring them back for you. You don’t have to
see this.”

Hermione shivered, riveted by him. “I’m certain.”

It had taken them a week to gather the people they needed to access the memory. Draco had
extracted it by making a special visit to Munich to get Dr. Gus’ help. It had taken both of
them to bring it out. Dr. Gus called it unstable, and he’s had to put Draco out under
anaesthesia to take it. Unlike the other memories she’d seen that were clear with wisps of
white this one had jagged flashes of crimson that would flow over it whenever you stared
deeply. On it Draco had written his mantra “I’ve already survived this once.”

They’d spent the first Saturday in March cheering in the Hogwarts stands as Gryffindor took
on Slytherin in Quidditch. Harry looked put out as the Slytherin seeker grabbed the snitch
while the opposing seeker had been busy on the opposite side of the pitch.

“What do you expect, Potter, they keep trying to replace you rather than going for talent,”
Draco had drawled with a twinkle at Harry, his naturally sardonic personality shining straight
through. His arm had been resting easily over her shoulder for the majority of the match,
cuddling her into his side between leaping and shouting at the players. He’d refused to stay
over that night, though, begging off by stating that he’d be taking a double dose of dreamless
sleep because otherwise he’d be too tired the next day to properly sift through the memory.

“Remember what I looked like last time?” But still promising to have her coffee ready bright
and early when Harry and Narcissa would arrive to supervise their deep dive into Draco’s
memory.

The mood in the dungeons Sunday morning was decidedly sober. Narcissa was dressed in a
creaseless gown in a deep hibiscus colour. She sat at a tea table that had been spirited in by
the Hogwarts house elves. Harry sat across the tea table from her, shuffling between drinking
his tea noisily and looking at the pensieve nervously, which had been filled, ready for their
excursion. Harry stared Draco down. “You’re going in after what Voldemort did to you, not
during, right?”

Draco nodded. He looked awful again. Almost as bad as he had when he’d shown her his
memories of her parents the day after Boxing Day.

Hermione reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed the back.

“You don’t have to go in with me,” she said quietly.

“I’m not letting you go in alone.” He snorted. “We are going to April 14, 1998.” He took her
hand and they fell together.

They fell into Draco’s bedroom, and this time the bed that had been moved into Hogwarts
still stood against the wall. The door opened and Snape swept in, Malfoy in his wake. As
soon as they closed the door behind themselves Malfoy sagged, Snape sweeping in
underneath his shoulder holding him up.

“Come along, Malfoy, he’s leaving now, let’s get some salve on those.” Malfoy collapsed into
an armchair, wincing as he started unbuttoning his shirt. It was black, and adequately hid the
blood that was oozing out of the weeping slices across his back. “It would be easier, boy, if
you let me obliviate you. You wouldn’t remember the things you’re hiding.”

Malfoy flinched back from the hands now rubbing salve into his back. “Never. Would you let
me take your memories of yours?” They glared at each other.

“You may not want to live with them later. They hurt, especially if she doesn’t survive this
war. We both know that a battle will be coming, and she will be in the very thick of it. Mine
was hidden away and was still taken.” Snape bit the words out.

The younger man stood, rolling his back. “My witch will survive Snape. She’s not weighed
down by a baby.”

“I thought the same.” Snape sneered. “And yet another Potter let him through.”

“I am strong enough. I can keep her safe.” Malfoy refused to look at Snape.

“You’re going to have to do better than enough, Malfoy.” His sneer cut the room. “This is not
going to be the last time he brings you into that room and carves his frustrations out on your
flesh.”

Draco hugged Hermione from behind, stooping to rest his head on her shoulder. “Have you
seen this since then?” she whispered, feeling him shake his head no.
Malfoy indolently dropped his ruined shirt next to the wall and pulled on another from a
drawer. “I don’t care. I will keep her safe. You will not take my memories.” He turned to
Snape, buttoning from top to bottom. “Now get out. Leave the salve.”

“I hope for your sake you’re right, Malfoy. You won’t want to live past the coming battle if
she is killed.” Snape pulled a small black and familiar journal out of his sleeve and moved
closer. Hermione elbowed Draco and pointed - the Nostros journal. “There are those who can
keep their loved ones safe from everything. Your ancestor...”

The younger Malfoy scoffed. "She loves Potter, Snape, remember? I'm never going to live
with her. She just needs to survive." Malfoy seemed to buckle under the pressure he was
under and started pick up up whatever he could get his hands on and throwing it in Snape’s
direction. Books, paperweights, a side table. “Get out. Get the fuck out. Don’t come back.
You don’t know her. She’ll outlive us all. I’ll make sure of it.” Snape dodged, ducked and
then grabbed him by the wrist.

“Don’t even think about it. Calm. Pull your thoughts back in.” Snape struck Malfoy across
the face. Malfoy seemed to grab total control over himself, slamming down steel over his
thoughts. There was now no expression on his face.

Hermione shivvered. That was creepy.

Malfoy’s tone was now languid and unhurried, reeking of the upper crust. “I’ll be fine,
godfather. I’d give that mudblood anything she needs.”

Snape nodded. “Better.”

imperio

The memory grew fuzzy and stretched out, fraying at the edges and popping back. The whole
room rattled around them, and the shadows snapped forward. Snape nodded to himself and
left in a swirl of his cape. Almost an hour had passed and been wiped out.

He reached around himself and when he brought his hand back it was stained with blood.
“Fuck.” It was quiet and echoed around the room. He ripped off his shirt, where the wounds
had started weeping again, and threw it against the wall. Where Snape was standing. But
hadn’t he left?

Draco stepped around Hermione and the memory went sideways under their feet.

Their attention was caught by the wall. Malfoy was standing at the wall by himself but Snape
was also crouched next to him where he was propped up on it, painting the runes on the wall
while Draco’s head lolled to the side.

“Amare, familia, honor, sacrificium, pietas.” Snape moved the kerchief around the circle,
moving it in time with the words following the path of the sigil. He repeated it over and over
again. The Nostros journal sat by Snape’s knee.
 That was when she noticed the glow. She and Draco moved around so they could see his
chest better. Coming from just under his collarbone was a white glow. It was slowly growing
between him and what would become the middlemost part of the collage of blood runes.

Just as the light touched the runes it looked like Malfoy had been struck. His eyes opened,
unseeing, words pulled out of him by the light.

anima mea pro salute vestra

And Malfoy was left gasping on the floor. “It will be easier than living without her boy.
Merlin knows I have enough experience of that.” Snape levitated him into his bed and
quickly glamoured the wall.

Draco grabbed for Hermione as the memory vanished around them, throwing them back into
the dungeons.

Harry and Narcissa stood up as they came back. Draco stumbled to a wastepaper basket and
threw up, going down to his hands and knees. Hermione rushed and tried to rub his back.

“He cut off some of my soul and used it to power long-distance blood-magic based protection
spells for you, Harry and Ron,” whispered Draco. “If you’d had a killing curse it would have
killed me instead. Snape knew. He must have figured out how to prevent something like that
after…” his eyes lit on Harry. Harry looked horrified.

Narcissa looked murderous. “If Snape hadn’t died I would track him down and kill him for
this.”

Hermione’s words were measured. “This spell was powered by love. It’s a splitting for
someone else’s benefit with nothing for the caster themselves. It’s like the opposite of a
Horcrux.”

Draco gave a semi-hysterical laugh.

She sighed, hugging him to her. “At least now we know how to unmake it."

Chapter End Notes

Latin translation -
amare, familia, honor, sacrificium, pietas - love, family, honour, sacrifice, duty

anima mea pro salute vestra - my soul for your safety

 Souls

Harry felt sick. Snape had cut off a portion of Draco’s soul to power a protection spell. He’d
been a vessel for a sliver of Voldemort’s soul, but the idea of fracturing an unwilling whole
soul for his benefit was revolting. That it was Draco’s nearly made it ten times worse. Draco
had been reluctant to talk about anything he’d done during the war after Harry had sprung
him from Azkaban. Snape had included memories in his tears that showed Draco working
with Snape and passing information back and forth between the manor and Hogwarts, he’d
shown Draco refusing to break under torture, talking about plans to save other muggleborn
families like the ‘Granger people’, his otter patronus, and rushing off to the seventh floor on
Snape’s orders to keep Nagini away from the room of requirement.

He’d known Draco loved Hermione, and had for years. Watching him sitting on the floor,
with Hermione’s arms wrapped around him, their foreheads touching each other in a moment
of tenderness, he knew his friend had finally gotten at least some of the happiness he
deserved after the war. Those first few years after Voldemert’s fall Draco had been stretched
incredibly thin. Learning to live with muggles was its own set of challenges, but the total
rejection of him by wizarding society was fierce. Then his accidental magic attacks had
started and Draco had withdrawn even further.

Harry paled. “Hermione. Draco. Do you think the accidental magic is because Snape pulled a
piece of your soul off? I mean, I had a little extra soul for a long while and it affected me
badly. Voldemort split his through murder and it damaged him irreparably. I mean, it’s been
gone for years, but what if the attacks and the soul cutting are connected?”

Draco and Hermione levered themselves off the floor. Hermione looked impressed. “That’s
brilliant, Harry.”

“Always that tone of surprise,” responded Harry, doing his best Ron impression. Hermione
giggled.

“I’m not sure that fits, Harry, my first attack wasn’t until a year and a month later.” Draco’s
mouth thinned, but his hand came up to hold Hermione’s shoulder. “Though I wonder. If I’d
known what he was about to do, I might have said yes to what Snape was planning.”

Narcissa looked shocked. Draco looked steadily into his mother’s eyes. “I wanted Hermione
to survive the Dark Lord, mother. If Snape had told me that I could keep her safe from a
killing curse by fracturing off a part of my soul but it might result in my death - I can’t say
for certain I would have refused.” Draco looked thoughtful. “Snape had to live with the pain
of losing Lily for the rest of his life. He never moved on. He could easily be tapped to help
deal with her son.” A vague gesture went Harry’s way. “Thinking about it - if I could have
taken a killing curse for Hermione during the battle I would have done so without a second’s
hesitation. This spell simply assured her survival. I really didn’t remember how the spell was
set. I just truly remembered adding to it every day until the end. Sometime after the original
casting I expanded it to include Harry and Ron. Did you notice the incantation, though?”
Hermione shook her head.

“I think Snape figured out how Lily kept Harry safe and added that in too.” Draco sat on a
stool, pulling Hermione closer. “I was desperate.”

She hugged him back. “I can’t believe you added Harry and Ron.”

Draco shrugged back at her. “They were close to you and could keep you safe. What’s a
daring girl to do without her knights?” His lips curved up.

Narcissa sighed loudly, looking over at Harry. “I’m sure these two have a lot of research
ahead of them, perhaps we should get out of their way?”

“I’m not sure we do.” Hermione replied. “I already have the scrub spell ready to start taking
off outside layers. As long as we are all inside the spell as we start taking down layers it
shouldn’t affect those outside of it. The soul wasn’t torn in violence, but made into a shield.
From everything else we’ve learned I think it’ll just go back in once the blood runes are
gone.”

“I’d rather we were more than certain, especially since it’s my soul we’re talking about,
minx,” said Draco wryly.

Harry snorted, drawing the eyes of Draco and Hermione. “What? You two are good
together.”

Draco blushed, Hermione looked at the ceiling and Narcissa seized the opportunity. “You’ve
been courting for several months now, have you two made your final decision?” she asked
with a smile. “If you make a decision soon we could have an autumn wedding.”

Draco groaned into Hermione’s shoulder. “ Mother .” He looked up into Hermione’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry. She won’t change, and I can’t get rid of her.” He shot a pleading glance at
Harry.

Harry started laughing, earning himself a disgusted look from the other three. “You two can
handle the research, but Ron and I want Pansy and Ginny guarding us as you start scrubbing
away rune layers. Lady Malfoy?” he pompously extended an elbow, leaving the couple
behind in the dungeon.

******

Draco got up and started putting supplies away and Hermione hurried to help him. He racked
the memory with his other ones. Hermione came up behind him and had a look at the racks of
memories. “Draco, what did your mother mean by final decision?” Hermione brushed her
lips over the shell of his ear. He spun in her arms, catching her and pulling her in.

“We’re courting. My mother is just interested to see how far along we’ve come.” Draco put
his head on hers.

“What do you mean, ‘how far along we’ve come’.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him
suspiciously.
He sighed. “We’re courting, so we need to talk about future things, and if we can agree on at
least most of them I can propose and we can move on to wedding planning.”

She looked at him, stunned.

With a light chuckle be brought her back into his arms, kissing her nose and then bumping
their foreheads together gently. “Did you not think I’m a man who knows not to let a good
thing like you get away? I mean, most of our time has been spent making sure I don’t blow
things up accidentally, and I’m sure that nothing can go forward until we’ve unmade the
blood runes, and courting usually doesn’t end up in the bedroom but…” he crinkled his eyes.
“Dating is something you do without strings attached. Courting states my intentions - I intend
to marry you, Hermione Granger, there has never been anything else in my life I’ve been
surer about,” he brought his lips to hers. She melted into him for a moment and then jerked
away.

Hermione stared at him. “You intend to marry me.”

He nodded. “Already have the ring picked out and everything.” He thought for a moment. “I
probably need to send it to a cursebreaker though, the old Malfoy rings from the vault can
sometimes be a little tricky.”

“You have a ring picked out,” she repeated.

“Again, yes.” He broke out into a grin. “I’m sure you’ll like it, but if you don’t there are more
options available, and we could always have something new forged.”

She seemed dumbstruck. “What kinds of future questions?”

“Oh, say, how many children would you like to have?” he looked at her softly, and then his
eyes unfocused a bit and he leaned down and said between kisses. “I mean, I’d like at least
one, or we’d never hear the end of it from my mother, but if you’d like to have a Weasley-
sized litter I could be happy with that too.” Hermione made a noise that sounded suspiciously
like a squeak. “I mean… seven is a lot but it’s a lucky number magically. Perhaps we should
see how the first one goes?”

“Definitely fewer than seven.” Hermione responded.

“Where would you like to live, Hermione? I’m selling the manor and I don’t think you’re
opposed to that plan, since you're helping scrub the blood runes out. We could have a few
flats in different cities, or perhaps a townhouse and vacation flats, a house in the country with
floo capacity for Hogwarts, London and Oxford? I currently live out of trunks between
Hogwarts and Oxford, but we could always buy a house in Hogsmeade if you’d rather stay
here. I’ve plenty of money. We should probably talk about exactly how much and how it’s
handled.” His lips twitched.

Hermione sighed. “I’m not sure I’m ready for these conversations yet Draco. Last year this
time I still thought you were a not-so-reformed Death Eater and a giant prat.”
Draco nodded. “I know. That’s why I’ve been putting my mother off. The hints will get
bigger as the months pass by, and you should be aware of that, it’s what’s done in mother’s
set. Please know this, though. I will wait forever until you’re ready to have me ask you to
marry me. I am willing to wait as long as it takes, as long as you need.” He kissed her deeply,
burying both hands in her hair.

They were interrupted by Rose’s wolf whistle from the doorway and broke away quickly,
with a quick grin as they turned to the puckish eleven year old who was just thrilled to have
found them snogging in the classroom.
 New Beginnings

McGonagall had given them all permission to take the 14th of April off from work. Ron had
cleared his schedule at work, Pansy and Harry leaving the children with Molly, and Ginny
missing a Harpies game to be there. Draco had pointed out, and Hermione had agreed, that
with the way the lunar map looked as compared to when the first spell had been cast, it was
important to unmake the blood runes on an anniversary of the first runes being cast.

All their research had led them to the conclusion that the original layer of blood runes acted
like a cage for the snippet of Draco’s soul inside the spell. If they peeled back the outside
layers, they should be able to reach the interior cage and let the fragment out, where it should
(in theory) snap back into place.

Hermione, for her part, was nervous. They didn’t know how scrubbing the tranched blood
runes would affect Draco. Draco, from her observations, was quite concerned about what the
scrubbed runes would be doing. He had started asking her those harder questions too. At
coffee in the morning, if he thought she was feeling up for it, he would ask her about her
opinion on tutors, public or private school before their children would enter Hogwarts. He
might kiss her on the temple as they got back to her rooms and wonder if she had any debt
remaining from taking her Bachelor and Master’s degrees in ancient writings. If she would be
open to house elves if they got a house (well-compensated and free). He even set her up for
an all-day-on-Saturday session with Mr. Lewis, the estate’s manager, because just managing
Malfoy’s money was a full time job, and Mr. Lewis had two assistants that worked flat out
with him. The size of his fortune was dizzying, and that was with the sheer volume of
charities that Malfoy had been whittling down his fortune with.

It was after that session with Mr. Lewis, when she’d gotten back, lightheaded with the runs of
numbers she’d gone through that day when she asked him a question that she’d wondered
about since she’d heard he had the job at Hogwarts.

“Draco, why do you work at all?” she asked, feet propped up on the table where he was going
over final galleys for the advanced potions textbook. He’d raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you
don’t need to work, but you have to work harder than most other people I know.”

He gave a chuckle. “What else would I have done with my time? Beaten myself up more for
taking the Dark Mark in the first place, replayed the moment I tripped you while you were
carrying a large pile of books over and over again? No. Best to keep the hands busy.
Speaking of keeping my hands busy…” His eyes had gotten dark then and they’d had sex on
the coffee table.

Hermione had to give Draco credit. He was proving to be a calm, caring and predictable part
of her life. Rose loved him. With the questions he was asking she was starting to see a shared
future with him. Every once in a while she’d catch him looking at her with contemplation and
her heart would flutter.

Then it was the fourteenth of April.

They gathered at the manor in the morning. Pansy and Ginny were nervous, standing outside
of the range of the tranching spell with Narcissa. Draco was standing next to where the runes
were painted, with Hermione in the centre and Ron and Harry near the far wall. Ron and
Harry would be moving to stand with Ginny and Pansy as soon as they were released from
the protection spell.

Hermione cast the tranching spell. Each layer separated, running from Draco to Harry and
Ron. Hermione had counted just over two dozen layers the last time she’d cast the spell. They
paused. No one fell. At least the prediction of having to be inside the protection spell was a
good one.

Pointing her wand at the very last rune Draco had drawn she cast.

scourgify

She heard a grunt from Draco. Turning she saw that he’d bit his lip, but made a motion for
her to continue.

She cast again, and again. The top layer was gone. As the runes disappeared they floated back
towards Draco. She turned and noticed he was taking off his waistcoat.

“I’ll be ok. Keep going. They’re just going back in me.” His voice was remarkably steady as
he peeled off the waistcoat and shirt, then pulled the undershirt over his head. “It’ll be easier
without layers on top.”

“If we need to stop, you need to tell me,” she ordered.

“I promise.” Draco’s eyes were light grey and twinkling again. “Keep going.”

She cast the scouring spell again and again, taking down another layer, then another. Every
once in a while she’d look back at Draco and see him meditating against the wall. At the
halfway point Ron and Harry were released. She could almost see the elastic bonds of the
protection spell pull back and away from them. It was then Draco whimpered behind her.

She turned and saw that there were light trails of blood coming down his shoulders and
across his chest. He smiled tightly up at her. “I can take it, Hermione. They’re just coming
back in. I want my soul back. Keep going.”

Hermione glanced at a horrified-looking Narcissa and then back at Harry and Ron. “Help me.
We will go fast until the last one, and then we will release his soul back to him.”

With Harry and Ron helping they quickly scoured the runes down layer by layer, moving
closer and closer to the nexus. Every rune opened up another scar on Draco. His eyes were
glazing over in pain, but every time they asked if he’d like to stop he would shake his head.
Finally Hermione came to the last rune. Draco was trembling next to her, eyes closed. The
level of self-control he must have had to neither be screaming or occluding must have been
unreal.
She studied the last set of runes, then, while touching the centre with her wand she drew the
sigil backwards, The sigil was almost an infinity loop in that the beginning and end of the
wand movement was in the same position.

A glow emerged from the wall, pulling away from the runes, pulsing as it was drawn down to
Draco. It touched his shoulders and drew down into him in a blinding flash of light. The
feeling that rippied out from him was the same as the sensation of a dislocated joint popping
back into place. The original four runes sank into the wall and disappeared.

Hermione gave a shout of triumph, looking at where Draco had been sitting. He’d been
blasted back a few feet and she scrambled to him. “Draco!”

She pulled him over onto his side. He felt different. She ran her hands over his back and
abdomen. The scars were all gone. Well, most of them. It looked like the scars Harry gave
him in the bathroom in sixth year and the faded Hippogryph scars were still there. She patted
his cheek. “It’s over, Draco. Wake up.”

With a light groan he cracked open an eye. “That was highly uncomfortable. If I ever try
anything as stupid as blood magic again, hex me.” He stretched. “I feel… overfull inside, too.
Quite strange.” He closed his eyes again. “I think I need a nap.”

“You might want to take a look at yourself in the mirror, mate.” Harry added.

Ron’s voice had gotten a full octave higher. “Bloody ‘ell.”

Draco looked confused as his eyes burst open. “Why? Am I purple?”

With a chuckle, Hermione ran her finger down his back. “Most of your scars are gone.”

With a quick yelp Draco dragged himself up and onto his knees and Hermione readjusted
herself onto hers, marvelling at the smooth skin under his fingers. He stared at Hermione for
a long second before digging into his pocket and taking out a ring.

“Marry me.”

It was quite a plain band. Made from warm vinewood, with engraved leaves that matched her
wand and a square cut diamond on the top.

“Please Hermione, make me the luckiest man alive for at least the fourth time so far in my
lifetime. Hermione Jean Granger, be my wife.”

"Like I could say no after I just blasted you with your own soul," she said quietly.

"I'm a Slytherin. Had to wait for a moment where you'd want to say yes." His grey eyes were
locked on hers with intensity. She nodded and his hand came up and slipped it onto her finger
while his lips met hers. From beside them they heard a great whoop from Narcissa.

“Congratulations! How do you feel about October 9th as a wedding date? I pre booked the
caterer already, but we could always choose another day.”
 The Prophet

Dennis Creevey held his messenger bag to his hip as he dodged muggles on his way to work.
The twelfth anniversary of the fall of the Dark Lord was coming up. He growled a little in
frustration in the back of his throat. Every one of his inquiries about Draco sleeping around
Hogwarts had come up empty. Nothing. The only girl he could even get confirmation of
having dated him was married to Ronald Weasley, and when he’d shown up to ask about their
relationship she’d tried to hex him before running in the opposite direction to keep one of her
children from tormenting a garden gnome.

None of the past or former students of Hogwarts had anything to say to him either. He’d
visited his cousin Perla over Christmas, trying to pump her daughter for information. She had
just graduated the previous summer, in Ravenclaw and she’d given him the worst look over
her slice of Christmas cake. “Professor Malfoy is awesome, I learned a lot and he says that
when he finished his new edition of advanced potions we are all getting a free copy for
helping him with the practical side of the classroom for it. He’s helping with my application
for the ministry Uncle Den, you’ve got to let this go.”

He’d had an interview with one of Malfoy’s current NEWT students in the spring in
Hogsmeade. That had gone even worse. The student had tricked him into drinking some sort
of vile potion, called their friends to help him and had left Dennis spelled facefirst to a tree,
stripped down to his boxer shorts. One of the girls had written “leave Prof. Malfoy alone” in
lipstick across his back. He’d just been lucky that Rosmerta had heard him calling for help
and cast him down.

This year’s edition, though, would be special. He’d tracked down a halfblood family that had
had to flee with Malfoy firing curses behind them. Their memories were terrifying and
Dennis was headed straight into magical photography to see if they could take a still frame of
Malfoy, the house on fire behind him, firing curses at the fleeing family. It would be a
triumph.

He ducked into the offices, weaving around pool reporters and headed straight for his offices.
He entered straight, heading for his desk chair and was hit with the body-bind curse. He
raised his eyes and saw Malfoy sitting on his couch, casual as you please, with a cup of tea in
his hands. He was dressed in natty slacks, white Oxford with the sleeves rolled up to his
elbows and a dark waistcoat.

“Finally going to kill me and prove me right? Wipe out the Creeveys, Malfoy?” he spat.

Malfoy’s mouth just twitched. “Shan’t. If nothing else you have a son with Rodmilla who
will be in my potions class in three years. I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t hurt you.
She’s nearly Slytherin with her ability to get around semantics,” he raised his eyes to
someone standing behind him. “You did promise, minx.”

“I dunno,” came Hermione’s calm voice over his shoulder. “Could be a good idea.”
Malfoy snorted, and Hermione levicorpus’d Dennis into a standing position, still bound. “Hi
Dennis, we haven’t talked since I came back from Australia. How’s life been treating you?”
She walked around him until she was fully in his line of sight. Her hair was plaited and hung
heavily over one shoulder and was dressed in a charcoal sweater and Muggle jeans. Dennis
was distracted for a moment, watching Malfoy raise his cup to his lips, looking at Hermione
with a soft expression on his pointed features.

“Let me go, Hermione.” Dennis’ voice was low.

“I don’t think I will. See, my future husband is fine with you attacking him in the press every
time you get a knot in your wand but I’m really not.” Hermione looked at him
contemplatively. “Sapere aude, Dennis. You’ve made a lot of assumptions about Draco and
I’m here to make sure that you stop acting like an idiot in the paper. Eventually they will fire
you for being such a stubborn ass.”

“I have a memory from the Tangletrees. They fled with you casting behind them, Malfoy.”
Dennis sneered in triumph. “It’s going on the front page for the anniversary edition. You
won’t be able to paper over your involvement.”

Hermione turned to Malfoy, who had pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Tangletrees.”

“Tangletrees,” said Malfoy. “Halfblood family. The Dark Lord sent me out with three other
Death Eaters for that one. Levitating them out of the attic where they’d hidden was difficult.
Obliviating them discreetly was worse. What was harder still was blowing up the trees to
create enough cover so that Dawlish couldn’t cast an Avada into their backs.” Malfoy sighed,
swirling tea around in his cup. “I suppose you have their memory. It’ll make a good picture,
even if it’s not the truth. Their eldest, Justin, was killed three months later by snatchers. They
send me a howler every time you print a story about me.”

“Good.” Dennis sniffed at Malfoy. “You deserve it.”

Hermione stepped between them. “He doesn’t.”

Dennis started struggling against the magic that held him. “He does. He killed my brother.”

“The dementors did that, Dennis.” Hermione’s voice was steady. “Colin was brave but it was
glass courage. He didn’t have the skill to get out of situations he found himself in due to his
recklessness. We’ve brought Draco’s memory of his last battle. Would you want to see it?”

Malfoy dug a small vial out of his waistcoat pocket and set it on the table in front of him,
where a pensieve began to glow.

“Your brother cast his patronus that night. Do you know what it was?” Hermione whispered.

Dennis shook his head. “He hadn’t been able to do so before. Not even in the DA.”

Hermione brought up her wand and released the body bind, pushed his bag off his shoulder,
then lead him over to the pensieve and dove in.
They landed on the shores of the Black Lake. Dementors were descending on Malfoy, who
was holding them off with his patronus. Dennis gaped at the little otter who was making
headway against them. From behind they heard crashing in the bushes and a tenor voice
calling out for Hermione. Colin burst into the clearing, causing Malfoy to start, losing control
of his patronus who disappeared in a puff of silvery light.

Colin looked at Malfoy incredulously, then his eyes snapped to the lake behind Malfoy.
“They’re coming.” Both boys turned just in time to watch the wave of dementors break
against the shore, with many surrounding the clearing and the rest headed towards the castle.

With a determined expression, Colin called to Malfoy. “Get the ones going for the castle. I’ll
watch your back.”

expecto patronum

The otter was back, swimming towards the castle at breakneck speed. From the tip of Colin’s
wand came a blurry basilisk, whose coils looped around the clearing, cutting off the
dementors that tried to swoop down on them. Dennis was incredulous. His brother had fought
with Malfoy? The loops of the basilisk kept flinging themselves up in the air, jaws opening to
snap at dementors that tested descending. The otter was rounding up dementors that were
trying to get into the castle, herding them back towards the lake. Malfoy was ignoring Colin,
trusting him.

Dennis was drawn towards where his brother was fighting. They’d never been the greatest at
defence against the dark arts. Holding the patronus charm was wearing on him. As Malfoy’s
patronus continued to swerve and dance, bringing back the dementors who had escaped
towards Hogwarts, Dennis could see Colin tiring, his basilisk fading in and out of existence.
The dementors broke through and surrounded Dennis’ brother.

“Just a few more moments, Creevey.” Malfoy gritted through his teeth.

“I can hold them off.” Colin’s response was brash, especially for a boy surrounded by
dementors and barely holding them away with a faltering patronus. His patronus was
shrinking back, barely visible and the dementors were circling. “I’ve got this.” His patronus
blinked out. “Keep going Draco.”

Young Malfoy, with an outstretched wand, continued to force the dementors back from
Hogwarts as Colin was swarmed. Colin stared at Malfoy’s back. He kept shaking his wand,
trying to force out a patronus but refusing to call out for help. Malfoy had the dementors on
the run back over the lake as he turned and went white, seeing Colin in the dementor’s hands,
his soul leaving his body. “No!” The otter broke off from the chase, streaking through the
night and exploding into the ground at Colin’s feet.

Malfoy was there in an instant, cradling his brother’s body as he collapsed towards the
ground. Over the wind whispered Voldemort’s ultimatum. Draco lifted the smaller boy into
his arms and started to trudge towards the castle.

They landed back in Dennis’ office. He lifted a hand to his cheek and found them covered in
tears. Malfoy was still sitting comfortably on Dennis’ couch, his Dark Mark exposed, lifting
his cup for another sip of tea. “I was a double agent, Dennis. Always. That you believed me
only means that I gave a strong performance. Your brother was not the first I lost as I tried to
work against the Dark Lord.”

Hermione nodded and turned towards him. “Draco fought bravely, Dennis. So did Colin. I’m
here to tell you to lay off Malfoy. Get yourself some help.”

Malfoy lifted a finger. “I’ve confiscated that memory you had in your satchel.” He stood and
started putting the pensieve in the case and tidying up. From his pocket he produced an
envelope and left it in the pensieve’s place. “The wedding’s on the ninth of October. Hope
you can make it.”

Malfoy took a quick step towards his fiancee. “Ready to go, minx?” Then he nodded soberly
at Dennis and the pair disapparated.
 Je t'aimerai
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Draco elbowed Harry in the ribs as he fidgeted again next to him. They’d decided to hold the
wedding at Hogwarts. His mother had an impressive list of six hundred people they had to
invite but he and Hermione had whittled it down to only fifty guests, along with the entire
staff and student body. Shaklebolt, the minister of magic himself stood next to Draco, ready
to complete the binding rituals.

It was a gorgeous and warm autumn day. The forbidden forest was putting on quite a show
with leaves swirling down in an impressive rainbow of colours. They’d set up the chairs
outside, and Narcissa’s catering staff were deep within the bowels of the Hogwarts kitchens
putting together a school feast that would rival their most prestigious displays.

The string quartet his mother had hired sprang to life, playing a version of Bob Dylan’s Make
you feel my love, as Hermione and Rose stepped around the corner of the castle and made
their way down the aisle. A sigh went up from the assembled.

Rose was in a bright periwinkle dress, her elbows linked with her big sister. Hermione had a
bouquet of Gentle Hermione that nearly touched the ground. Draco wouldn’t be surprised if
she’d added a lightening charm to it before picking it up. Her dress was near white with a
periwinkle undertone, and floated out behind her. His eyes drifted up to hers and saw them
crinkle.

Both of them could have done without a huge ceremony. Far too many people, far too much
fanfare. Draco wanted peace with his writing and teaching, and Hermione was taking courses
at Oxford so she could go for her own PhD in ancient runes. The feeling of Hermione’s hands
in his as they joined their magic together, however, was not something that could be
quantified. The golden loops of magic that bound their hands together glowed and sank in as
they finished their vows, releasing a shower of sparks that fell down around them.

It was over dinner that Draco approached Dennis Creevey. Alone and standing apart next to
the dance floor he looked out over the assemblage of students and friends of the couple with
confusion written across his brow. From just behind his elbow, Draco watched his new wife
dance the macarena with her sister. “Thank you for coming, Dennis.”

Dennis started, jerking to the side. He smoothed out his face. “Lord Malfoy.” Then gave a
quick nod.

Draco felt his lips twitch. “Just Draco, please.” He brought the glass of firewhiskey up to his
lips and took a small sip. “I hear you’ve been asking my former students for interviews, and
have even gone into the muggle world to ask my classmates from university to talk to you
about me.”

“Are you going to ask me to stop?” Dennis asked cautiously.

“No. I believe a free press is quite important, a reason I saw as important enough not to
interfere with you until Hermione demanded we do so.” Draco replied wryly. “I would,
however, like to know your intentions because from what I understand my university flatmate
literally pitched you off her front steps when you showed up at her door.”

“It’s a good story.” Dennis replied.

“It might be,” said Draco, swirling his drink. “I’ll be interested to see where it goes.”

Dennis nodded tightly, and Draco moved off through the crowd, back down to the dance floor
and to his wife’s side. Draco snaked an arm around her waist and drew Hermione in, burying
his face in her curls.

Just after sunset, when the band packed up and the students returned to the Great Hall Draco
and Hermione scampered back into the teacher’s lounge and into their new quarters in the
castle. They were just as they’d been the year before, just slightly larger. Their books were
intermingled on the shelves. Hermione had been the most nervous about that aspect of their
comingling of things. “You realise that once this is done and we can’t tell whose copy of Jane
Eyre it is it’s going to be permanent?” He’d swept her into his arms and offered to magically
combine the two so there would be no possible way she’d get away from him.

His guitar sat next to a small upright piano for Hermione. His Chemistry books next to her
dusty tomes of Ancient Runes. They’d kept the Malfoy bed though. They sped through their
sitting room, intent on the bedroom. Hermione had reached behind herself to unzip and he’d
grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Hermione, you chose a periwinkle wedding dress. If you think I’m not going to be the one
to peel it off of you myself you’re daft.” He leaned in to capture her lips, pulled her body
flush to his. “And you’re the furthest thing from daft.”

She mewed quietly, folding her tongue against his and pushing herself closer to him. He
chuckled against her and looked down into her eyes as he drew down the zipper. “Thank you
Lady Malfoy.” Hermione stood stiffly and Draco paused. “What?”

“Lady Malfoy?” she whispered.

“Well, the title was transferred to you upon marriage, and that’s what we were doing at one
o’clock this afternoon.” He fiddled with the pull to her zipper. “I mean, we could always do
Lady Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy, would that be better?” His eyes twinkled at her and
she kissed him again. The zip continued to descend, as did Draco’s lips across her shoulder
blade. “Did the vastly clever Hermione miss the whole ‘marrying a lord’ thing?” He pulled
the straps of her dress off her shoulders and the dress pooled around her feet. He paused, then
stared into her eyes. “You’re not wearing any underwear, Granger.” With a wicked smile he
loosened his tie and started taking off his cufflinks. “Some lady I married.”

Hermione just giggled back at him and started on his buttons, laughing as she counted layers
off of him. “Jacket, waistcoat, shirt, undershirt. How did I end up in a relationship with an
armoire?” She popped the top button off his trousers and reached down to stroke him and he
groaned lustily in her ear. Bending slightly he scooped Hermione up into his arms and tossed
 her into the centre of the bed, quickly taking off his trousers and leaving them tossed over the
crumpled periwinkle dress.

Starting at Hermione’s feet Draco kissed his way up her body, backing off kissing up her
thighs three times before she breathlessly threatened him and moved his mouth over her core.
He could feel her trembling under him as he slowly stroked her with his tongue, swirling it
around her clit and then softly sucking. As soon as she felt her thighs begin to quiver he
backed off and started kissing his way up her torso.

A detour around her breasts and Draco found his way up to her mouth again. He gave her a
chaste kiss, gave her a devilish smile and flipped them quickly so she found herself atop him.
She giggled and sank down on him, controlling this first time as man and wife the same way
she’d sunk down on him his first time.

Draco could feel himself getting closer as Hermione rocked down over him over and over
again. As he lifted his hand to squeeze a breast, propping himself up on an arm so he could
take the nipple in his mouth he noticed the gold loops of their vows start to glow under the
skin of their forearms and hands. Hermione’s eyes were closed, and hand resting on his
shoulder as she lost herself in the sensation. Draco could feel a tightening and reached down
to rub circles around her clit as she came apart.

Draco released at the same time, prompting the magic to spread out in a golden halo around
them. Hermione’s eyes opened wide as the bonds snapped back on them. Draco draped his
arms around her shoulders, pulling her down and cuddling her under his arm.

“What was that?” she asked breathlessly.

Draco chuckled, earning himself a glare from Hermione. “You really didn’t research the
differences between magical marriages and muggle ones, did you?” He booped her nose with
his. “That was just the consummation tying us. It updates the paperwork at the ministry.”

“Doesn’t happen every time, does it?” she asked sleepily.

“No. Just the first one.” He snuggled into Hermione’s side, hardly believing that they’d come
to this point. “You know, a year ago I was still trying to avoid you so you didn’t feel
uncomfortable at the castle.”

“I love you, Lord Malfoy,” smiled Hermione, her nose crinkling at him.

“Je t’aimais, je t’aime et je t’aimerai.” Draco said, kissing her eyelids and pulling the blanket
over them.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading my first fanfiction. I had a great time writing it and I hope you
enjoyed it.
Please leave a comment or kudos!

If you would like to track your reading on Goodreads, this fic is available there.

Yours
-aCanadianMuggle
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