Of what is the spirit made

by diagonfloo

H/D SLASH. This is the story of the infamous Lord Draco Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, the world's greatest lover. Or it's the story of accomplished psychiatrist Dr Hermione Granger and her latest patient.

Author/Artist LJ Name: diagonfloo
Title: Of what is the spirit made
Prompt Number: M66
Original Work Name: Don Juan DeMarco
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron
Summary: This is the story of the infamous Lord Draco Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, the world's greatest lover. Or it's the story of accomplished psychiatrist Dr Hermione Granger and her latest patient.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury/Scholastic and New Line Cinema. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Erm… perhaps that things are not what they seem in this fic. Or are they?
Epilogue compliant? No
Word Count: 28.500
Author's Notes: Dear prompter, this is me reading your lovely prompt: Ooooooh, I love the film Don Juan DeMarco! But how could that story possibly work for Harry/Draco? Let me think… Aha! Now I MUST claim this prompt. And this is what I did with it…

Many thanks to my beta A who has helped me make this story better. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Also many thanks of course to the mods who were kind enough to allow me extra time to finish this story

The title comes from this quote from the film:

"There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love"

xxx

My name is Lord Draco Malfoy of Malfoy Manor. I am the world's greatest lover. No man or woman has ever left my arms unsatisfied. Only one has rejected me. And as fortune would have it, he is the only one who has ever mattered.

So it is, on the eve of my 29th birthday, that I find myself on top of the East Tower of Peverell Castle, waiting for death to come and claim me. It must come to me by the hands of my great adversary, Duchess Ginevra Weasley, which is why I have challenged her to a Wizarding duel.

xxx

Dr Hermione Granger was catching up on paperwork in between patients when her Muggle phone rang. Truthfully, she'd been bored out of her mind while listening to Justin Finch-Fletchley's story the first time, let alone going over it again in order to update his file. The ringing phone offered some welcome respite, especially when she saw who was calling.

'Dr Brown, Amelia, hello. Good to hear from you,' Hermione said.

'Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it,' the friendly voice at the other side of the line said. 'And now that we are speaking, I'm afraid to say it's business I'm calling for'.

Hermione smiled.

'Alright, let's get the business part over with first then, shall we? What is it I can do for you?'

'This man who's been admitted to St Mary's last night, I think he's one of your lot,' Amelia started, straight to the point as always, which was one of many things Hermione liked about her.

Amelia was the daughter of a Squib. Seeing as her father had been shunned by his family, Amelia had been living among Muggles all her life. Understandably, she held no great love for the world of magic, but she made an exception for Hermione. They'd met at Muggle university where they'd both studied psychiatry and had kept in touch ever since.

'He keeps calling everyone Muggles and complains about the lack of proper House Elves and such. I thought it'd be best if he was transferred to your facility as soon as possible, if that's alright with you?'

'Of course,' Hermione confirmed. 'I suppose that's one good thing about working in a psychiatric institution, isn't it. People will just think he's mad, no need to worry about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy at least'.

'Quite. Thank you Hermione,' Amelia said, sounding relieved. 'Although he was starting to raise too many questions over here. With what he said, the way he looks and… well, you'll see'.

'Care to elaborate on that?' Hermione asked, sitting up straight. She wasn't looking forward to inviting trouble into her relatively peaceful life. Everything was running smoothly at Octavio House, and Hermione didn't look forward to someone disrupting that.

Amelia laughed.

'Oh, it's nothing like that, he's harmless enough I suppose. It's not like it's his intension to be disruptive. He just sort of… is. You'll understand once he gets there, trust me. I think it's best you make up your own mind about this one'.

Hermione stared at her phone dubiously for a moment. She did trust her friend, of course she did. But she also valued the calm and tranquillity that was so characteristic of Octavio House, an atmosphere that much benefited her patients' troubled minds. Then again, if this wizard really needed her help, of course she wasn't going to withhold it. She'd taken both the wizarding and the Muggle oath to help any patient to the best of her ability.

'Alright,' Hermione said, 'just give me the important details now and then email me his complete file please'.

'Of course, thank you Hermione', Dr Brown said. 'I haven't had much contact with him myself, just when they first brought him in. They had to talk him down from Big Ben of all places. He claims he wasn't planning on jumping, but it certainly looked like it. Here, I'm sending you the file now. It's all in there'.

'Alright,' Hermione said while opening her email. 'I can look over the details at my leisure later. Now tell me what's been going on in your life lately. Or better yet, tell me you'll escort this mystery patient of yours over here and we can catch up in person?'

Amelia chuckled and said: 'You know how I detest travelling by floo. But tell you what, I'll come over this Friday and we'll catch up over dinner and drinks. How does that sound?'

'In that case I'll not take up any more of your time. Ron and I will look forward to seeing you and Simon then. Bye for now,' Hermione said, ending the call with a fond smile.

She put her phone down and focused on her computer screen. Finch-Fletchley's file could wait. Hermione was far too curious about this new patient to bother with that bore right now. She clicked on Amelia's message. The smile froze on her face when she read the name on the attached file. It couldn't be…

Draco Malfoy.

xxx

It most certainly was Draco Malfoy, entering her office at nine sharp the very next day. He was escorted in by Abigail Cattermole, one of her most competent nurses. One of her most competent nurses, who was now giggling while looking very flustered indeed. She also seemed disinclined to leave.

'Yes thank you Nurse Cattermole. I believe I can take it from here,' Hermione said pointedly.

'Oh. Erm… right, of course Dr Granger. Excuse me,' Abigail said, blushing heavily. 'I'll be here to pick you up at the end of your session Sir'.

Abigail quickly excited the office, but not before… was that a curtsey she directed at Malfoy?

Her mind still reeling, Hermione turned and fully faced Malfoy for the first time in about twelve years, not having seen him since the Battle of Hogwarts. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sight of him made her speechless for a moment.

It was undoubtedly Draco Malfoy standing in front of her, the same pale blond hair, aristocratic features and lean frame. It was the same man, yet she might as well have been looking at a stranger.

This man was dressed as a gentleman in full Regency style, from the cravat around his neck to the tailcoat and pantaloons. He looked like he could have walked off the set of one of those Jane Austen adaptions Hermione liked to watch whenever Ron was out at some Quidditch match or other.

If that wasn't startling enough, there was also this… aura of stunning beauty surrounding him. What was it about him? Hermione couldn't put her finger on it. She did however see now what had flustered Abigail, and what Dr Brown had referred to. The man was a vision. And wherever he went, he was sure to cause a disruption.

'Dr Granger?' Malfoy said, disturbing her train of thought. 'I wonder… you wouldn't be the Dr Granger per chance, Dr Hermione Granger? War heroine and great friend of the Honourable Harry Potter?'

Hermione didn't grant herself the luxury of surprise for more than half a second before she pulled herself together. She had no idea of the state of mind Malfoy was in, so she took his hand with a neutral face and addressed him as the professional she prided herself on to be.

'Mr Malfoy, welcome to Octavio House. I am indeed that Dr Granger, yes. Pleasure to meet you,' she said.

Malfoy's face practically lit up at her words. If she had thought him beautiful before, smiling at her like this was… mesmerising. Oh, she was sensible enough to keep her head, she was Hermione Granger after all. But even she wasn't totally immune to this amount of charm, especially when he turned her hand over and kissed it instead of shaking it as she had expected him to do.

'I assure you Dr Granger, the pleasure is entirely my own'.

'Er… right,' Hermione said. 'Now, won't you sit down? The view from over there is lovely'.

She indicated the two comfortable leather armchairs she habitually used for her sessions. They were half turned to face the large floor to ceiling window that did indeed have a lovely view of the park surrounding Octavio House.

'After you Milady,' Malfoy said, inclining his head in a polite bow.

xxx

Hermione's head was reeling. At first, they exchanged some pleasantries, which seemed normal enough. But then she asked him about jumping off Big Ben, with the utmost caution of course.

'Big Ben?' Malfoy asked, looking curious. 'Pray tell dear Lady, who would that be? I have never heard of anyone referred to in that way'.

Hermione explained that Big Ben wasn't in fact a person, but the tower Malfoy had been found on.

'Ah,' Malfoy said, nodding sagely. 'I have not been to Peverell Castle in many years and had no idea the East Tower had its own name. I was simply there because it is meant to be a significant place for my mortal enemy. I had hoped she would find me there, but alas…'

Now this, Hermione had read about in Dr Brown's file.

'Your mortal enemy you say? Is that Ginny, I mean, Ginevra Weasley?'

Malfoy's features darkened and he gave a curt nod.

'Why don't you tell me some more about that? How is it that you came to be adversaries?' she asked, trying for a neutral tone. She still didn't know what to make of this Malfoy.

Malfoy grimaced.

'Is it not obvious?' he asked. 'She was and is my greatest rival for the love and affection of the best man I have ever known'.

'Who would be…' Hermione prompted carefully.

Malfoy gave her an incredulous look.

'Who else could it be but my dearest Harry,' he proclaimed with a touch of drama.

Harry? He couldn't mean… Could he?

'Do you… that is to say… are you talking about Harry Potter', she asked, trying her best to keep the astonishment out of her voice.

Malfoy beamed at her.

'But of course. Surely, there can be but one Harry. My Harry,' he said.

Hermione was shocked. Even her inert professionalism couldn't prevent her from sitting there for much longer than was polite, simply blinking and gaping at Malfoy.

Finally, she closed her mouth, sat up straight and observed the man sitting across from her. Could Malfoy be faking this? She held eye contact with the man for several moments before deciding. No. No she really didn't think so. Malfoy seemed absolutely sincere, convinced of the truth of his words.

'Why don't you tell me about erm… your Harry,' she asked gently.

Malfoy smiled serenely and said: 'Well, I could do that if it pleases you. But for you to truly understand my plight, I shall have to start at the beginning'.

Hermione tried for a reassuring smile. Malfoy was her only scheduled patient for the day, so she could afford to take her time. Lavender could take over the midday group session, she often did that anyway.

'Please,' she said. 'Go ahead'.

xxx

I recline in my fine leather chair, place the tips of my fingers together and begin my tale. It is not that I would bare my soul to whomever begged it from me, but this is Lady Hermione Granger, as close as I can come to my Harry these days.

'I was born on the 5th of June, 29 years ago this week, as the last of the male Veela lineage of Malfoys, Son to Lord Lucius Malfoy and Lady Narcissa Malfoy, née Black,' I start.

'Both Father and Mother doted on me as a child, because I was their much beloved son, but also because it was foretold that I would play a crucial part in the future of Wizarding England'.

I sigh and shift slightly in my seat. That was the simple part of my tale, now I ready myself to tell the more difficult parts. I glance at Lady Granger for just a moment but decide I would feel more comfortable looking at the serene scene outside, the voluptuous garden with the charming pond that reminds me so much of the pond on our grounds in Wiltshire. It is both comforting and painful, since I've not had a chance to visit Malfoy Manor for such a long time.

'My childhood was happy, uncomplicated, wonderful. Until my eleventh birthday that is'.

I close my eyes and pause.

'What happened on your eleventh birthday?' Lady Granger prompts me, as I knew she would.

I hide a small smile by covering my mouth with my hand for a moment and then continue.

'Well, my letter for Hogwarts arrived of course,' I explain. 'It broke my heart when Father told me I would not be able to attend'.

'That was when he told me about the prophecy. Not many people know there was another prophecy, it was a family secret. You see, my Aunt Baroness Bellatrix Lestrange used to be a gifted Seer, before… well…'

I cough to hide my embarrassment at the memory of Aunt Bellatrix's later madness. It simply doesn't do to talk about these things. The exact wording of the prophecy was lost along with her mind, but I can give Lady Granger the gist.

'She spoke of the Dark Lord, announced his arising and the joy I should feel at being the object of his desire once I was of age. She declared that I would stand at the Dark Lord's side at the final battle, the one that would determine the fate of the wizarding world. I never heard her say these words of course, they were spoken before I was even born. My eleventh birthday was the first time Father spoke of them to me'.

'He told me it would be too dangerous for me to attend Hogwarts, I needed to stay in the Manor, behind the ancient blood wards where I would be safest. I had never been allowed outside the wards much, but I'd never minded. The Manor and the grounds were big enough to entertain a small child. But lately I had been getting restless, as any almost eleven year old boy would. I wanted to explore the world outside our grounds, see what new and exciting things awaited me'.

I pause a moment, reluctant to admit to the next part, it embarrasses me to think of it even now. But I am committed to telling my tale and this is a part of it. So I resolve to get through it quickly and quietly, lowering my voice so Lady Granger has to lean slightly forward in her chair in her attempt to hear my words.

'I am ashamed to admit I did not react well,' I admit quietly, a slight flush colouring my cheeks. I resolutely ignore this and carry on.

'I behaved appallingly. I cried, I stamped my feet, I shouted at my parents who had been nothing but good to me and who had only ever had my best interests at heart. Even then I knew that. But I was unable to stop, even as I became aware of how very unbecoming my behaviour was for a boy my age, and a Malfoy heir at that'.

'My poor parents had no notion of what to do with me. They had never known me to act in such an undignified manner. Mother started weeping softly, wringing her hands and looking between Father and I anxiously. Father went very still. His eyes remained dry, but I could see him swallowing and blinking profusely. Neither of them spoke'.

'I cried and cried until I had no tears left to shed, no voice left to utter recriminations, no energy to do anything but curl up in a miserable heap on the floor. I knew that if my obvious distress was unable to move them, it was hopeless for me to plead with them on this subject ever again. But it was only when Father cast a lightening spell on me, cradled me in his arms and carried me up to my room as he used to do when I was much younger, that I came to accept my fate. I resolved that from then on I was allowed to ask questions, to learn more about what the future had in store for me, but only to be better prepared for it. Never to escape it'.

'And did you? Ask questions I mean?' comes Lady Grangers voice, as if from a great distance.

Only then do I realise my mind had drifted off and I'd been looking at a swan swimming across the pond for I do not know how long.

'My apologies Milady,' I am quick to say. 'Please know that I am aware of how very valuable your time is and I regret having wasted part of it. It shall not happen again'.

I go on to tell her about the endless questions I asked and the many answers my parents gave me. Some devastatingly simple and clear. No I would not be allowed to go to Hogwarts or any other Magical school, not for first year, not for later years. Yes I would still be able to see some of my friends, but only on Manor grounds and after their parents had agreed to swear an unbreakable vow to never speak about me outside Malfoy Manor. Those parents who had not agreed, had been obliviated along with their children. It broke my heart to learn that Theodore Nott's parents had been among the last group. But I did not cry. A Malfoy never cries, I had learned that lesson never to forget it.

'Some of the answers were not given as easily or as willingly. But I would not relent. So Father answered as best he could. I did not understand back then why he could not be more open with me, was unable to speak to me in plain words I could understand'.

I smile wryly and continue: 'I do now of course. Some things an eleven year old just cannot comprehend. So when I asked Father what it meant to be the object of the Dark Lord's desire he said it meant nothing good. When I kept pushing, he said it meant the Dark Lord would want to touch me, to lay with me, to be the centre of my world. I still did not understand. When I admitted that, Father looked at me for a very long time, his eyes full of sorrow and regret. "It means he wishes to possess you Son. To own you, to be your Master. And that I will never allow", is what he finally told me. And even though I still could not comprehend exactly what that would mean, I did realise that this was something that should be avoided at any cost'.

'I asked no more questions after that. I told myself it was because I knew enough, but deep down I knew it was because I could bear to hear no more'.

I sigh heavily, composing myself. I look Lady Granger in the eyes for a brief moment. Her look of gentle encouragement braces me enough to continue.

'Of course I learnt more as the years went by. My life was sheltered all through my youth, with a private tutor teaching me everything that was part of the Hogwarts' curriculum, except for potions of course. For that, I had my Godfather, Baron Severus Snape. You will have heard of him I am sure, since he was also the Potions Master at Hogwarts during the time you and my Harry attended'.

I look at her expectantly. She simply nods and then motions for me to carry on. I can see I have intrigued her. It feels good to be able to converse with someone like Lady Granger. She is interested, really interested, and not in the way that most men and women around me tend to be. Which is a good thing I suppose, as however much I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, I would never indulge in such matters with one of my Harry's dearest friends. Of course, if it was my choice, I would be with no one but my Harry.

The sorrow that is always close, ready to drown me whenever I stop and linger on what might have been, is upon me again in an instant. But I am strong and determined not to fall into its grip for long. Stoically, I move on with my tale.

'As closed off as I was from the outside world, we did take The Daily Prophet. I used to sneak into the library after tea and spell out every single word. That is how I learned about who exactly the Dark Lord was and all of his evil deeds of the past'.

'Of course the library was useful in the acquisition of knowledge of any kind. With my physical world as limited as it was, I explored the rich worlds of books whenever I had a chance. My favourite books were the travel journals of my Great Aunt Cassandra. Her tales were full of wondrous things, exotic and enticing enough to keep me occupied for many evenings'.

'But perhaps most educational were the books hidden away on the top shelf in the farthest corner, hidden beneath several privacy spells. They taught me about the world of physical pleasure, of lust and desire. They were as enticing as they were frightening. For now I understood what Father meant when he spoke of the Dark Lord's desire for me'.

I shudder at the memory. I will not share with Lady Granger how I felt reading those words, looking over the illustrations. It does not do to speak of these things in civilised company. The thought of sharing such intimate things with such a wicked man was repugnant to me. But at the same time, to share these things with someone worthy, someone I could love, filled me with a joy I was yet too young to understand.

'But it was not until Father decided I needed lessons in Pureblood etiquette and brought in my new tutor Mrs Fedwich, that I learned the true power of desire'.

I smile fondly as I recall Father's error in judgement. I am not certain if he thought me too young to fall prey to such an adult emotion, or if he underestimated the force of my Veela instincts. It is forgivable of course, as I was but fifteen years old at the time.

'She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, much younger than any of the adults I had been in contact with before, yet so much more mature than my childhood friends,' I tell Lady Granger. 'She was what Mother would call a simple woman, married to one of the lower officials from the Ministry. An older wizard, an arranged marriage as was the custom among Purebloods, even among the less prominent families such as the Fedwichs.

'I listened to every word she spoke, my eyes following her every move, my heart fluttering whenever she praised me, for giving a correct answer or demonstrating perfect skill in handling cutlery. I made sure she had ample cause to praise me of course. My eyes used to feast on the delicate curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts beneath her robes, her plump lips… Ah, she was a treasure to behold'.

I bemusedly shake my head as I recall the innocence of that time, the way Father left us alone to study, never for a moment considering the consequences of such foolish acts.

'It was not long before I found excuses to touch her. When I handed her her morning tea I made sure to brush my hand against hers for just a moment. I requested that she guide me with her hands whenever I had the opportunity, show me the proper movements for sipping one's tea at official functions, letting her correct small details by guiding my fingers with hers. But it wasn't until dancing lessons that things spiralled out of control and my innocence was lost forever'.

I tell Lady Granger about that first day of dancing lessons, just the wizarding Waltz. It is not so different from the Muggle variety of course, just more elegant and graceful, courtesy of a discreet floating charm on the lady. I was greatly looking forward to that first dance, anticipating the hoped for but never expected feeling of having Mrs Fedwich in my arms at last.

'Alas, it was nothing like I expected. There was this initial moment of joy on first contact, the happiness of feeling her hand slip on my shoulder, the other in my hand. Her nearness making it possible for the very first time to inhale her scent. I was lost, delirious almost, and I pressed my body closer to hers and guided her those first, tentative steps on the dance floor. She tensed immediately, and pulled away from me. I did not understand, asked her what was wrong, had I offended her somehow? She just shook her head, muttered an apology, abandoned me on the dance floor and fled'.

'I was distraught. I was convinced I had gravely insulted her, pushed her away unwittingly when I longed for nothing but to hold her close. I feared I would never see her again, but in actuality, she came back the very next morning, a large trunk floating along behind her'.

I remember how she refused to look me in the eye. Mother asked her what was wrong, but all Mrs Fedwich would say was that her husband had told her to leave and she had done so. Mother nodded sagely and asked no more. Instead, she clapped her hands and ordered Flimsey, one of the eldest Malfoy House Elves, to install Mrs Fedwich in the second guest suite. I thought I would never be happier.

I describe to Lady Granger, in the most delicate of terms, what happened next. I admit that it was but a short while before I stole my first kiss. That first time, Mrs Fedwich held herself stiff, pushed me away and chastised me. But despite my inexperience, I could see it in her eyes even then. She was mine for the taking, only held back by the morals and rules of Pureblood culture that we had both been raised with.

'It was within the week that Mrs Fedwich surrendered herself to me. We'd been dancing all morning, turning circles over and over again, our heads spinning with dizziness and desire. She let me touch her, pull her to the floor, unfasten her robes with merely a token protest. I revelled in the feeling of touching the exposed skin, tracing lines from her face down her delicate neck to the part of her breasts that I had had the courage to reveal by pulling her robes further apart. She was perfect. I kissed her, kissed the lips that had been such a temptation to me, kissed her in other places, everywhere I dared to reach. I shall not shock you by going into detail Milady, but allow me to say that within a few weeks, there was not a secret I had not learned about her body or mine'.

'She confided in me that she had never loved her husband, a cruel man who was more in need of a House Elf than a wife. She told me how she had been shocked and ashamed at her own reaction to that first dance of ours. Full of remorse, she had confessed all to Mr Fedwich, who threw her out without pardon. She had wished to stay away from me, determined not to take advantage of my youth and presumed innocence, but she had little choice but to come to the Manor for shelter'.

'Poor Mrs Fedwich. She could not help herself, drawn to me by the Veela allure, as much a victim as she took me to be. I in turn was ecstatic of course, sure I had found the love of my life, as sure as only a teenage boy can be. Of course it would not last. It was Father who walked in on us, found us in flagrante delicto one day, the very last day of Mrs Fedwich's employment at Malfoy Manor'.

I tell Lady Granger about the despair I felt at being separated from the woman I had convinced myself I was in love with and would be for all eternity. It is strange to think that I was ever that young. I considered begging Father to let Mrs Fedwich stay. Considered it and dismissed it almost instantly after one glance at Father's livid expression. Instead, I vowed I would suffer in silence and die of a broken heart without complaint.

I cannot help but laugh when I think back to that week. A week is all it was, since at the end of that week, Mother had a visit from Mrs Parkinson.

'Now, the Parkinsons were an oddity among our acquaintances. Not a Pureblood family, but far too rich and influential to be ignored by Pureblood society. Besides, Mother had a weakness for Mrs Parkinson, an intelligent woman with a ready wit and a fiery spirit. Sure enough, they were laughing together when I entered the Morning Room to greet Mother's visitor. Mrs Parkinson had brought her daughter Pansy along, a silly girl just a couple of months older than I, insignificant in both looks and conversation. Or so I remembered her'.

'It had been almost a year since I had seen Pansy last and she seemed like a completely different person. Dark, almost black hair, falling in soft curls around her face. Her eyes were nearly as dark, but sparkling with a wicked wit, her mouth curved in an amused smile. The moment she quirked her eyebrow at me, poor Mrs Fedwich was gone from my mind and heart, to be replaced with this enchanting creature'.

'I made polite conversation with both my Mother and hers, nodding and laughing in appropriate places. When I asked Pansy and I to be excused in order for us to take a stroll around the grounds, I timed my request perfectly. Mother waved us off absently while busily discussing the latest fashion in dress robes. We made our escape without much of a fuss'.

I use a minimum of words to describe to Lady Granger what happened in the secluded White Garden. Suffice it to say that I was seduced that day by a girl wise for her age and I was her willing victim. We made love on the blanket I conjured and laid out on the soft grass. There was a lot of laughter and breathless kissing, such a different experience than I had had with dear Mrs Fedwich. I admit to Lady Granger that in that moment I realised I may have known about the desires of the flesh, but I knew nothing of love. For how could it have been love, this emotion I felt for Mrs Fedwich, if I was so easily persuaded to lay with another? It could not.

'It was a valuable lesson Pansy taught me that day, one I never forgot. I found myself in many similar situations, I blame my Veela heritage for making me susceptible to the desire of another, that and the allure. But never again did I fancy myself in love. After Pansy, there was dear Blaise, a revelation all of its own. He was the first man I lay with, but by no means was he the last. My resources were limited, being cooped up in the Manor as I was, but both Pansy and Blaise visited me during Holidays, usually separately, though there was that memorable day in late August… Well, best not dwell on that'.

I can see Lady Granger's eyes widening at my implication and choose to quickly move on.

'With this new diversion, life at the Manor had certainly become more… interesting for me. I should have realised then that it could never last'.

I sigh and rub my eyes. Fifteen or not, I find it difficult to forgive myself for such foolish blindness. In hindsight, I should have noticed Father's retreat into himself, the worry lines furrowing his brow and the pensive looks he directed at me across the dinner table. I tell Lady Granger as much.

'I had the arrogant presumption that his moods were caused by nothing more than my escapades which, although I was discreet enough, he may have guessed at. It was not until Father took me aside one night after dinner, showed me the ugly mark that marred his skin and told me in urgent, quiet words that the time we feared had finally arrived that I knew that nothing would be the same again'.

I take a shaky breath and continue: 'He told me that the Dark Lord had arisen that Summer and that Father had been summoned to his side once again. Only now did I recall the many evenings when Father had been absent these weeks and how Mother had been conspicuously silent about the dinners we had shared without him. The simple truth is that I had been too absorbed with my own life, my mind clouded by Veela hormones, made infinitely worse by my youth'.

'Father told me how my Harry, though of course he was not my Harry then, had been forced to play a crucial role in the resurrection of the Dark Lord. From that moment on I read each word the Prophet printed about my Harry religiously, even though Father warned me not to believe a word of it. It made no difference to me. Because above all, what I looked at were the pictures they published of him. They told me everything I needed to know. It was not something I could put words to at the time, not something I understood on any conscious level. But the Harry in the pictures always seemed to look right at me, to see me, see through me. I felt a connection to this young man I saw, a significant connection, one to be feared and coveted at the same time'.

'From that moment on I started collecting photos of him, clipping them out of the Prophet and making an album, always keeping them close. I admit the album has helped me through some dark and difficult times. I will treasure it always, more so as it is all that is left to me of my dearest Harry'.

I do not cry as I admit this to Lady Granger. I do not. But I cannot mask the tremor in my voice as I speak my Harry's name. Merlin I miss him so. Even though I have long accepted the way things are, I cannot help feel the deep regret and sorrow at what might have been.

xxx

Hermione shifted restlessly in her chair, unsure what to do. She couldn't deny Malfoy's story had touched her somehow, moved her. He'd been quiet for a while now, staring out the window, seeming lost in thought.

What was she supposed to do now? This was so confusing, beyond anything that she'd encountered before. As much as she knew for a fact that Malfoy's story couldn't be real, it felt real somehow. It certainly was for Malfoy. This was not some known mental illness, of that Hermione was convinced. Could it be an unknown effect of a potion gone awry? Or some kind of spell damage? She couldn't be sure. She'd have to…

Hermione's train of thought was abruptly disturbed by first a curt knock and then the entering of Nurse Cattermole, come to take Malfoy back to his rooms.

'Forgive me Milady, I have taken up enough of your time it appears,' Malfoy said, rising from his chair.

Hermione quickly composed herself and gave Malfoy her most professional smile.

'That's quite alright Mr Malfoy, we'll continue our conversation tomorrow. Nurse Cattermole will be overjoyed to show you to your accommodation I am sure,' Hermione said, smiling bemusedly as she watched the nurse nod vehemently, place a tentative hand on Malfoy's arm and lead him out her office. She'd have to keep an eye on this situation she absently noted to herself while she packed up her stuff and headed to the floo. Time to head home.

xxx

'Hello 'Mione. How was work?' Ron asked between yawns.

Hermione leaned over the sofa to press a quick kiss on her husband's lips.

'It was good. What's up with the Auror Department? Caught any criminals today?'

'Not as such,' Ron answered, frowning. 'Blasted buggers keep getting away, one step ahead of us at all times'.

'How inconsiderate of them,' Hermione deadpanned.

Ron grinned.

'Yeah. Should be a law against that really. We're getting closer though. I expect we'll have their arses in Azkaban before the weekend'.

'Excellent,' Hermione said absently, while heading to the kitchen.

'Dinner is in the oven. Mum sent over enough food to feed a small army, bless her,' Ron called after her.

'I thought as much. Nothing you've cooked has ever smelled this good,' Hermione called back. She opened the oven door and sniffed appreciatively.

'Oi, I resent that!' Ron cried in mock outrage.

Hermione laughed and started setting the table.

'Just get your arse in here you lazy sod!'

They shared a comfortable meal together while Ron filled her in on his latest case. Hermione was dying to discuss Malfoy with Ron, but that would be a huge breach of privilege, something she'd never done before. Well, she'd discussed cases with Ron, but never about anyone he was acquainted with and certainly never mentioning names.

Then again, she really could use an Auror's insight and knowledge in this. Maybe if she just…

'So…' she began, 'I was talking to a patient today and he reminded me of Draco Malfoy. It got me thinking, I haven't heard anything about him or his family for such a long time. Do you know what's happened to them?'

She gave Ron her best neutral look and smiled encouragingly.

The question obviously took Ron by surprise. He put his fork down and considered her for a moment.

'A patient that reminded you of Draco Malfoy? What, was he the blond, aristocratic, obnoxious type?' Ron asked, snickering.

'Seriously though, I haven't heard the name Malfoy in ages. I remember hearing something about him while Harry and I were still in training, but I can't remember what it was. Aw, this is going to annoy me now,' Ron complained.

Hermione felt bad, but only for about a minute. She knew her husband, knew he'd get to the bottom of this Malfoy business. And Hermione really did need to know what happened to Malfoy between the Battle of Hogwarts and now. In fact, she decided, she'd start her own bit of research this evening. She'd start by going through back editions of the Prophet.

xxx

When her first patient walked in the next morning, Hermione needed all her professionalism to stop thinking about Malfoy and focus on the patient in front of her instead. It wasn't easy, her research last night had been baffling to say the least. It was no wonder she didn't remember much, as all the articles she could find were small, often without a single photo and always hidden away somewhere on the bottom of one of the last pages. She'd only found them as easily as she had because she used a spell that would lit up the Malfoy name and flip the Prophet to the page in question.

The way the articles seemed hidden away in itself may have been explained, if the information in the articles wasn't particularly newsworthy or interesting. But neither of those were true. Hermione had grown increasingly astonished as she read about the whole Malfoy family disappearing soon after the Battle of Hogwarts. After that, the articles were mainly speculation, interspaced with some sightings all over Britain and Europe. Some of these had pictures, like the one of Lucius and Narcissa, taken somewhere in the Italian countryside. They looked weary, older than Hermione remembered them, but otherwise well.

A whole series of articles was dedicated to the strange and unexplainable field of magic that had somehow enclosed the whole of the Malfoy grounds. It protected the area from sight and no one had been able to penetrate it so far, though a few had tried. Strangest of all perhaps was that the shield hadn't appeared at the same time as the Malfoys had abandoned the Manor, but a couple of months later. Something or someone must have triggered it.

There was also much speculation on what had happened to the Malfoy fortune, but Hermione doubted any of those rumours were true. She knew Gringotts and the way the Goblins worked. The Malfoy vaults were perfectly safe in their hands and no doubt the Malfoy family retained full access whenever needed. She wagered that some of that money went into the pocket of the editor of the Prophet, thereby ensuring the Malfoys' lack of appearance on the front page.

When she got to the edition of the 20th of December 1999, Hermione had been stunned. There, right there, was the first picture of Draco Malfoy she found. He looked younger, much more like the Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts, dressed in simple but elegant black robes. That wasn't all that extraordinary in itself, but what did make it extraordinary was the person Malfoy was looking at, talking with, laughing with in the picture. None other than Harry Potter. The headline read: "Son of Death Eater befriends Saviour".

In the photo, they certainly looked friendly. In fact, friendly might be an altogether too uncomplicated word for the black and white scene portrayed. It wasn't explicit by any means, but for a witch as observant and as knowledgeable about the human psyche as Hermione Granger was, there was something more than friendship to be seen.

It was in the way Harry leaned in a little whenever Malfoy spoke, as if Harry was determined to catch every word. It was in the casual way Malfoy briefly placed a hand on Harry's arm, obviously emphasising some sort of point. But most of all it was in those looks, the intensity and intimacy of them. They were clearly oblivious to their surroundings, unaware of their photograph being taken.

Hermione couldn't be sure where the photo had been taken. It was outside somewhere, but the photo was too small and taken too close up to tell much of the surroundings. Some sort of park she thought, but couldn't be sure. She'd certainly have something to talk about with Harry as far as this was concerned.

Even though she knew Malfoy's take on the events of the past couldn't be right, she bloody well remembered him from Hogwarts after all, it did seem like there might be more truth to this story of Harry and Malfoy together than she had previously thought possible.

At first, she didn't understand how she could have missed this article when it came out, buried in the back of the paper or not. But she quickly realised that this was when she and Ron had gone to Australia to visit her parents during the holidays. Ron had made her promise no books, no studying, no Prophet during their time away.

Mr Gudgeon was her first patient of the day, a kind, elderly gentleman and one of Hermione's favourite patients. She felt for the man, who had lost both his wife and daughter in a potions explosion and had been struggling to cope since. Mr Gudgeon was an outpatient, came in once a week for a while, but had been doing better and coming in only every other week.

Her next two patients were a young witch suffering from severe anxieties caused by spell damage and a wizard who had been heavily traumatised after enduring many Crucios during the war. Hermione needed all her attention for these patients and gave them nothing less. But when her for last patient of the day walked in, Justin Finch-Fletchley, it didn't take long for Hermione's mind to drift off, back to the topic of Draco Malfoy. She'd been trained by now to drone out Justin's whiney voice, complaining of Merlin knows what misjudgements and ill treatments he'd had to endure this week, and just hum encouragingly and nod in appropriate places.

She'd have cut him loose, told him to get over himself and get a life ages ago, if it wasn't for the fact that his very wealthy family were one of the major benefactors of Octavio House. Therefore she indulged their youngest son, gave him the attention he so dearly craved on a weekly basis, and then sent him on his way.

She had time for a quick stroll around the park and a cup of coffee before Malfoy's appointment. It was a bit of a dreary day, but Hermione didn't mind the slight drizzle. She'd taken the precaution of an impervious charm and the temperature was nice enough.

When she walked past the open patio doors of the common room, her attention was drawn by the sound of music and laughter. It was an old fashioned type of music, featuring the characteristic sounds of a pianoforte. She looked in to see Malfoy giving a demonstration of sorts, spinning a flustered looking Lavender Brown around on a makeshift dance floor, while patients and staff alike cheered them on.

Oh sweet Merlin, she should have anticipated this. Lavender was a capable therapist, a pleasant co-worker, but at this moment she looked more like the flaky teenage girl she once was. Hermione sighed. Right. She'd soon put an end to this.

She quickly made her way through the open doors and cleared her throat emphatically. Lavender immediately drew back from Malfoy, her cheeks flaming. The music stopped and their audience looked around awkwardly. The only one that was perfectly composed was of course Draco Malfoy. He inclined his head at Lavender first, at the audience second. Then he turned to face Hermione with a pleasant smile.

'My apologies Lady Granger, is it time for our appointment? I am afraid I have been a bit diverted by some impromptu dancing and pleasant company. I must say, your hospitality is outstanding'.

xxx

As I follow Lady Granger to her office, I notice something is not quite the same. I am unable to determine what precisely has changed, but I am certain something has.

Thinking it may have something to do with the dancing earlier, I ask: 'My apologies Milady, was it inappropriate of me to turn your excellent Dining Room into a Ballroom this afternoon? I have no wish to impose on your hospitality in such a way'.

Lady Granger looks startled, but does not respond until we are both sitting in those fine leather chairs by the window once again. She hesitates before speaking.

'Mr Malfoy…'

She hesitates again as she looks at me searchingly.

'Mr Malfoy, do you know where we are?' she asks me cautiously.

I do not understand her question.

'I beg your pardon?'

Lady Granger looks a little pained as she explains: 'This house I mean? Do you know what it is?'

'Well, I haven't seen the deeds, but I assume this house is yours,' I respond.

Lady Granger shifts in her chair.

'Right,' she says, 'Ok. What would you say to someone that, erm, that said to you, this is a psychiatric hospital, and that you're a patient here, and that I am your psychiatrist?'

I smile indulgently and say: 'I would say that he has a rather limited and uncreative way of looking at the situation. I can assure you, I am perfectly aware of where we are. Now let us waste no more time on semantics and please allow me to continue my tale'.

Lady Granger opens her mouth as if to speak, but then seems to reconsider.

'Of course Mr Malfoy, do continue,' she says, and gives me a warm smile.

'Splendid. Now, where were we…' I ponder aloud. 'Ah, but of course. I was about to tell you about the terrible events that happened shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Of course you remember the battle that took place at the Ministry around that time. In fact, I believe you were there, were you not?'

At Lady Granger's affirmative nod, I continue: 'Father had been forced to accompany the Dark Lord to the site of the ministry. Father had tried to avoid attending, but it was to no avail. Mother feared something would happen to him, as Aunt Bellatrix had joined the Dark Lord's ranks by then and she was at that time unpredictable at best, lethal at worst. Mother implored my Godfather Baron Snape to swear an Unbreakable Oath to take me in and protect me if anything should happen to Father'.

'As you are probably aware Milady, Father in fact survived said Battle, only to be taken to Azkaban, away from the family that needed him so dearly. I thank Merlin for Mother's foresight in enlisting Baron Snape's aid. He removed me from the Manor that very night and hid me in a safe house at Spinner's End in Cokeworth'.

'These were confusing times, dark and dangerous. I did not know what to do with myself, plucked as I was from the safe environment of the Manor, now suddenly placed in a wholly Muggle town. The house was tiny, sparsely decorated, but clean. I was allowed outside occasionally, but only after swallowing a dose of Polyjuice to give me the appearance of one of Baron Snape's distant cousins. The Baron stayed with me through the Summer, but had to leave me to my own devices at the start of the new school year'.

'It was a difficult time for me. Veelas do not take easily to being alone for much of the time. Baron Snape stayed with me as often as his duties at Hogwarts allowed, which was not very often at all. Most of my time was occupied in reading, studying and brewing, the only activities that were readily available to me. Neither Pansy nor Blaise were allowed to visit me at Spinner's End, so in my desperation I confess I resorted to seeking out the company of a Muggle boy or girl whenever I could stand the loneliness no longer. It was not difficult to hide my amorous endeavours from Baron Snape, as he was so rarely in attendance. I disguised myself with several glamours, chose my companion for the night carefully and shamelessly exploited my Veela allure to lure them to the abandoned mill nearby. I knew it was dangerous, knew it was unworthy of me, therefore I held out as long as I possibly could between one encounter and the next.

'I pleaded with Mother whenever she visited me to please let me come home, but she was adamant that I stay away, insisting the Manor was no longer safe. As it turned out, she was correct. It was no more than a year before the Dark Lord moved into the Manor, my childhood home, and claimed it for his own. When Mother sent me an owl to break the news, I was heartbroken. Even the news that Father would be free from Azkaban shortly could not console me. He might be free from a physical prison, but both Mother and Father would hardly be free under the Dark Lord's dominion'.

'I know little of what happened that first month after the Dark Lord took over the Manor. Contact with Mother and Father was impossible during that time, as he kept too close an eye on my poor parents for them to risk it. The only word I received was from Baron Snape, who was a confidant of the Dark Lord, though in reality he was a spy for the Light. His words on the matter were sparse, which I took to mean there was nothing good to be told. He assured me both my parents were as safe as they could be considering the circumstances, but would give me no more than that. I understood without being told that the Dark Lord was displeased with Father because of the reluctant role he had played during the Battle at the Ministry'.

The sound of Lady Granger clearing her throat startles me. She says: 'I wonder, did the erm, Dark Lord know of your existence at that time?'

'Ah. A simple question that has a complicated answer. The Dark Lord knew, and yet he knew nothing at all. You see, my Aunt Baroness Lestrange was not at all times… shall we say coherent? She had hinted at my existence to the Dark Lord, told him a fragmented tale of a Veela heir somewhere in the Black lineage, but her mind was too muddled at that point for her to pinpoint to whom exactly the prophecy referred. The Dark Lord suspected of course, I believe almost from the beginning. As many precautions as my parents had made, there would always be someone, somewhere who remembered that the Malfoys had once had a son. But the Dark Lord was too preoccupied with his resurrection to full power, his attempt to beat death at its own game, his ascent to dominion of the wizarding world, to care much for the ramblings of a disturbed woman or pay attention to idle gossip'.

I smile wryly as I think back to the Dark Lord's single-mindedness that had been my salvation at the time.

'He was obsessed with my Harry, had been since before my Harry had even been born. He was convinced that he could and would defeat this challenger to his power, to what he considered his rights. The Dark Lord never did understand that it was his own actions that forced my Harry to oppose him in order to survive'.

'It wasn't until near the end that I was unfortunate enough to catch the Dark Lord's attention. By that time, more than a year had passed since that night Baron Snape removed me from the Manor. That last year, he was made Headmaster of Hogwarts, as you probably remember, even though neither you, Mr Weasley or my Harry attended that year. I, on the other hand, did'.

I reflect on the mixed emotions I felt when my Godfather told me that it would be unsafe for me to remain by myself at Spinner's End any longer and therefore that I would accompany him to Hogwarts this year. He reminded me that even though I was technically of age, I would not be fully mature until I came into my Veela inheritance, somewhere around my eighteenth or nineteenth year. Baron Snape assured me that the Dark Lord would be unable to touch me while I was staying on Hogwarts' grounds and that I would be as safe there as it was possible for me to be.

'For the first time, I was allowed to attend lessons among my fellow students, communicate with them, interact with them. Baron Snape kept a close eye on me at all times, I was never allowed to leave his sight except during lessons and he gave me a room adjoining his suite instead of allowing me to stay at the Dungeon with the rest of the students of his house'.

'It was difficult for me to adjust to life at Hogwarts. There was a constant tension, fear running through the school, because of the imminent threat of an attack by the Dark Lord and his followers, and because of the direct threat represented by the Carrows. No one but I was safe from their threats. I was thankful for the protection of my Godfather certainly, but it pained me to see my fellow students repressed and terrorised as they were. Some fought back, but mostly in covert ways that were invisible to the eye. Because of my protected status, I was never fully a member of the school community, among them, but separate. The only students I had a more… significant contact with were of course dear Pansy and Blaise. But things between us could never be as they were between us, not in these kinds of circumstances'.

'The year went by excruciatingly slowly at times and incredibly fast at others. It was a strange kind of being, so many people of my own age around me and yet my detached state of mind and my Godfather's attempts to keep me safe, prohibited me from feeling one of them. At times I felt more alone than I ever had. The monotony of studying, eating and sleeping that I had got used to, was brutally disturbed a fortnight before Easter, when I was summoned to visit the Manor for the holiday'.

xxx

Hermione had to struggle to remain silent and still while Malfoy told her his tale. She couldn't figure Malfoy out, felt like she was missing something right in front of her but couldn't quite grasp it. Malfoy seemed perfectly lucid, the answer to her earlier question seemed to indicate that he was aware to some extent of her purpose here. But yet he seemed to ignore it. Chose to ignore it? Hermione wasn't sure, but was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had moved on to the confrontation at the Manor, his first confrontation with the Dark Lord.

'As it turned out, word of my attending Hogwarts had reached the Dark Lord's ears and he felt the time had come for me to present myself to him,' Malfoy said. 'He would no longer be deterred by my parents and demanded that I be shown to him. I suppose he was growing weary at that time, worried that defeating my Harry would be a more difficult task than he could ever imagine. He was grasping at straws, hoping against hope that the ramblings of an insane woman would be the key to his victory. Fortunately for all of us, he was gravely mistaken'.

'Will you tell me what happened when you confronted him for the first time?' Hermione asked. She felt torn, on the one hand she was fascinated and wanted to hear every word of this fantastic tale Malfoy had spun. But on the other end she was impatient, wanted to move the story along, couldn't wait to hear what Malfoy had to say on the matter of the supposed relationship between him and her best friend.

'I could tell the moment it happened,' Malfoy said. He paused a moment, pressed a hand to his mouth as if the memory made him feel physically ill. In fact, Hermione noted that he did look rather paler than usual.

'Are you alright?' she asked, concerned. 'If you don't want to tell me, or if you can't, we can stop at any time you know'.

Malfoy gave her a tired smile and shook his head.

'Thank you Milady, I am fine to continue. If you will permit me, I shall keep this as brief as I can,' Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow in enquiry.

Hermione was quick to nod and urge him to go on.

'As I told you, I could tell the moment it happened. It was in the main dining hall, the most formal room of the Manor. It made sense that the Dark Lord would choose to hold court there. It felt so very wrong, my hapless parents sitting down the table while the Dark Lord presided over the meal from the head of their table. Dinner was nearly finished by the time I arrived, the large platters of cheese, fruit and desserts as good as empty. The Dark Lord was lifting a forkful of something heavy with chocolate and cream to his mouth when he spotted me. At once, he dropped his fork, not caring about it clattering on the plate, spilling creamy chocolate everywhere. He stood up and beckoned me to come near, a request I had no choice but to obey'.

Malfoy hesitated, his face contorted in a look of disgust as he told the next part.

'He… sniffed me. I cannot find another word to accurately describe what it is he did. I was still several feet away, his strange, snake-like slit nostrils flaring as he seemed to breath in my scent. As I approached him, I felt as if I were his prey, even though it was he who had succumbed to my Veela thrall instead of the other way around. I could feel it happening, even if I had no wish for it and tried desperately to halt its progress. I confess, I did not hear much of what he said to me, morbidly fascinated as I was by his wicked appearance and the mad, possessive gleam in his eyes as he looked at me'.

Hermione could easily picture the scene Malfoy described so vividly for her. She couldn't help but shiver as she listened to Malfoy telling her about the quiet of the dining hall, even though the table was filled with Death Eaters. No one spoke, no one ate, everyone was focussed on what was happening between their Master and Malfoy. Voldemort had staked his claim publicly, announced to all his followers present that no one was to touch, speak to, or even approach Malfoy without Voldemort's consent.

Hermione hadn't realised she was actually holding her breath until she began to feel faint. Scolding herself silently, she forced herself to breathe normally and continued to listen in rapt attention as Malfoy told her about the rest of that Easter holiday and what can only be described as Voldemort's attempts at seduction.

'I suppose I was lucky the Dark Lord decided I was in need of seduction as it delayed what I feared at the time to be the inevitable. I did my best to hide my revulsion at his attempts to complement me about the oddest things. He would compare my complexion to that of a ghost and expect me to be pleased by such a statement. He tried to woo me by telling me how he wished he could lay me down and smell every part of my body, savour each part's individual scent and compare each to the other. He would bring me what he saw as gifts and ordered his minions to lay them at my feet, though in reality these gifts were nothing more than some of the Darkest objects among the Malfoy heirlooms'.

'What did you do?' Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking.

Malfoy shrugged helplessly.

'What could I do? I tried to hold myself aloof while still giving him the impression that he was slowly, ever so slowly, managing to woo me. I schooled my features to one of grave attention most of the time, with an occasional smile with what I hoped was just the right amount of restrained encouragement'.

'Did it work?' Hermione asked.

'I suppose it did,' Malfoy replied with a heavy sigh. 'I managed to delay him, without giving the impression that his case was a hopeless one. I had my Malfoy training and a regular dose of Calming Draught to thank for that I believe. At the end of the Easter holiday he let me go with merely a promise to stand by his side when the time came. He told me I would know when that was. I gave him my word, what else could I have done? Nothing, as I was well aware. He would not even allow me a private meeting with Mother and Father, so we had to say a strange, formal goodbye to each other in front of him. Even so, I was immensely grateful to be able to make my escape, though my heart was heavy with sorrow that there would be no such escape for my dear parents'.

Malfoy sat there quietly for a time, his finger tracing circles on the armrest of the leather chair. Hermione gave him a moment before she gently encouraged him to go on.

'When did you see them again?'

'Not until the end of both the worst and the best day of my life, the day of the Battle of Hogwarts,' Malfoy replied. 'But perhaps we should leave that story for our next meeting. I must admit that reliving these times has taken a toll on me Lady Granger. If you would forgive me, I would prefer to retire to my room at this time'.

Hermione readily agreed, summoned a different nurse (best not expose Nurse Cattermole to too much of Malfoy in a short period of time) to escort him back to his room and set herself to work to finish her notes of the day. Within the hour, she was saying her goodbyes to the staff and heading home for the weekend.

xxx

During the whole of the weekend, Malfoy didn't leave Hermione's thoughts for more than five minutes at a time. On Friday there was the dinner with Dr Amelia Brown and her husband Simon. She couldn't bring up the subject of Malfoy in front of Ron of course, but after dinner, when the men were deeply ensconced in a conversation about some sort of Muggle sport, which involved heavy gesticulating and great amounts of alcohol, Hermione managed to pull her friend aside.

They discussed Malfoy's symptoms, looked at his case from different angles, tried to diagnose him as best they could. But nothing seemed quite right. In the end, it was Amelia's parting words that stayed with Hermione, ringing true in a way that couldn't be ignored.

'Haven't you ever wished you could reinvent yourself Hermione? Let's face it, the war messed up all of your generation of witches and wizards' youth and young adulthood. Can you imagine what it must have been like for him? I mean, from what you've told me about the way he grew up, what he had to deal with, is it any wonder he prefers to create his own reality?'

No, Hermione supposed it wasn't. She became even more convinced of that as she heard what Ron had to say on Saturday morning over breakfast.

'It's quite sad really,' her husband said, in between shovelling up his two portions of bacon and eggs, plus a helping of pancakes. Honestly, it was a wonder he wasn't as big as a house by now.

'I mean, don't get me wrong, I still think Malfoy is an utter git, or was anyway. And his father is a right bastard, still can't believe he's not behind bars. Though I do suppose his Mum saved Harry's life, so they can't be all bad eh'.

Hermione barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes at him as he helped himself to more pancakes. She was too interested in hearing what Ron had found out to get into an argument right now.

'Anyway, it seems as though Malfoy's parents split pretty much right after the war, leaving the Manor for Malfoy to start his own family I suppose. They changed the deeds and everything. As far as I can tell, Malfoy stayed at the Manor for only a couple of months or so, leaving it in early January of the year after the war ended. I don't know what prompted him to leave, but I do know he can't come back. Apparently someone cast some sort of spell on the place, locking everyone out. Although, not everyone, the Unspeakables are pretty sure there's one or more persons that could act as some sort of key if you like, someone the wards would respond to and allow to enter. Don't think it's Malfoy himself though, if it was he would have been back there ages ago, don't you think?'

'So where do they think Malfoy is now?' Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged.

'Hell if I know. Seems the bugger disappeared off the face of the earth after leaving the Manor. I've checked up on Malfoy's parents, they're still living in Italy somewhere as far as I can tell, but not Draco. I've contacted the Italian Auror department, but didn't get much information there. D'you know they only speak Italian over there?'

'You don't say?' Hermione said, and added mock seriously, 'One has to wonder how they manage'.

'Well exactly,' Ron grinned, not in the least bit offended. 'Those translation spells are a bloody nightmare to get right. Might give it another go on Monday though. I think Zabini might know some Italian. He's a sucker for an offer of pizza and Muggle beers after work, I think his wife probably doesn't let him have any. Poor sod'.

The look of sympathy on Ron's face for someone denied pizza and beers was priceless and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Ron regularly stated that he couldn't live without at least one dose of greasy Muggle food and alcohol a week and Hermione was tempted to believe it. It was a good thing she enjoyed a nice Quattro Stagioni herself, although personally she preferred a glass of red with her pizza.

Which gave her the brilliant idea to suggest to Ron that he bring Harry back for pizza at their place after the Cannon's match on Sunday.

xxx

'So Harry, do you happen to know anything about what happened to the Malfoys after the war?' Hermione asked in a voice that she hoped sounded casual.

She'd been wracking her brain trying to come up with a legitimate excuse to bring up the subject of Malfoy, but to no avail. In the end, she decided she might as well plunge in.

'What?'

Harry seemed to stiffen, his face clouding over and his shoulders rising all the way up to his ears.

'Oh yeah,' Ron said. 'That's right. I didn't get a chance to tell you. Me and Hermione were talking about Malfoy a couple of days back. Got me thinking, it's been ages since we heard anything about him or his family, hasn't it. So I did a little digging'.

'Did you now,' was Harry's non-committal answer.

Hermione held her breath. Ron seemed to be oblivious to their best friend's sudden change of mood, but Hermione could clearly see the tension dripping off of Harry.

That was just plain odd. Surely, their childhood rivalry was in the past and couldn't have anything to do with Harry's defensive pose right now. No, Hermione decided, it must have something to do with whatever happened between the two of them after the war.

She observed her old friend discreetly, letting Ron do all the talking. She heard Harry's breath catch, saw him dart his eyes around as Ron mentioned the person or persons who would act as a sort of key to unlock the wards on Malfoy Manor.

Finally, it seemed as if Harry couldn't stand it any longer.

'Just shut up about Malfoy, alright?' he bit out.

Ron gaped at him.

'Sure mate. If you want,' he said cautiously. He clearly didn't understand what had riled Harry in such a way, but he was prepared to let it go. Ron was good like that, a great friend. He knew when to push things and when to let something go.

The rest of the evening went by pleasantly enough. Harry let Ron crush him with chess and they all enjoyed a couple of rounds of exploding snap. Malfoy's name wasn't mentioned again.

But when Ron excused himself to use the toilet, Harry said: 'Leave it alone Hermione. I know you want to fix this. You can't. It's not your place'.

Hermione sat there, frozen in her seat. Harry wasn't looking at her. He was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed in front of him, his eyes on his feet.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She so desperately wanted to ask Harry about his relationship with Malfoy. She was now convinced something had happened between them, something significant to both of them. Why would Harry never have told her about this? And did Harry somehow know about Malfoy being a patient at Octavio House? But how?

Finally, Harry looked up at her. Hermione sucked in her breath as she saw his steely expression.

'I mean it Hermione. I know what you're trying to do. Don't drag me into this. I can't…'

Harry's voice trembled for a moment and he swallowed heavily.

'I just can't, that's all,' he finished.

Of course Rom chose that moment to come back in. Soon after, Harry took his leave, leaving Hermione more conflicted than ever.

xxx

It has been a long weekend and I confess that I am relieved to be escorted to Lady Granger's office once again. It heartens me to be so close to one of Harry's dear friends and I am almost looking forward to sharing the story of our first meeting. But first, I turn back to bow and kiss the hand of the lovely nurse who has been kind enough to escort me. Her cheeks turn a pretty pink colour and her eyes sparkle as she mutters a goodbye and leaves Lady Granger and I to our business.

Before long, we are sitting by the window once again and I am sharing with her my experiences during the Battle of Hogwarts.

'I remember it being dark. I do not believe it was yet evening when the Battle began, but there was a darkness surrounding the Castle that made it seem like the sun would never shine again. I heard his call, heard it as sure as if he were standing right beside me. It was a call I could not ignore, not if I cared about my parents, not if I cared about sparing innocent lives. Not if I did not wish him to wreak a terrible revenge on me and those dear to me. So I went'.

'The Battle had been ongoing for quite some time when he called me. I had been aware of it of course, as was everyone else in the Castle. I waited for the call to come, dreading it, expecting it. When it came, I slipped away unnoticed and made my way out of the Castle, into the Forbidden Forrest where I knew he would be'.

'He stood there, just stood there, while the battle went on around him. I approached him, slowly, walking towards the clearing in front of me with dread. As I came nearer, I had to be careful to avoid the spells and curses flying through the air. I used my wand to cast a Protego and kept on walking'.

'The Dark Lord did nothing. He just looked at me, a maniacal gleam in his snake-like eyes and the most horrible grin on his thin lips. I could not repress the shudder that passed through me at the sight of him, but thankfully he did not seem to notice. Or if he did, he did not care'.

As I describe the scene to Lady Granger it is like I am in that moment once more. I can see the Forbidden Forest, smell the scent of crackling magic combined with fire and earthy tones of soil and wet leaves. I hear the noise, the shouting, the screaming, the desperate pleading. I am there, right there, and just as before, I cannot escape. My throat constricts and I have trouble breathing. I fight to control myself, but I am drowning, can feel myself drowning…

'Mr Malfoy?'

It takes a while for me to register the voice anxiously calling my name. I feel a reassuring hand on my arm as the voice continues.

'You're safe. There's nothing that can hurt you now'.

My eyes fly open and I remember myself. Lady Granger talks on, more comforting words, but I cannot tell one from the other. The tone of these words however, is enough. I take a couple of deep breaths and pull myself back from the horrors of the past.

'Thank you,' I say quietly.

I have not permitted myself to think back to those moments in a very long time. I had hoped they would no longer hold power over me as they once had. I am gravely disappointed to discover that in fact, they do.

I clear my throat. Lady Granger looks at me, her eyes are warm and kind. It would appear as though she will allow me to continue as if nothing happened just now. Gratefully, I do.

'Let us continue then. When I arrived at his side, the Dark Lord bared his teeth at me, in what I can only assume was meant to be a smile. He grasped my hand, clasping it possessively, and my heart nearly stopped. It felt wrong in such a profound way that I feared I might never recover. That is when he called for my Harry'.

I remember standing there, knowing there would be no escape for me from this horrible fate. The Dark Lord was calling for my Harry, taunting him, threatening to harm, kill or maim until Harry showed himself. All I could think was, how can a boy, the boy I remembered from those newspaper articles so long ago, how could such a boy defeat this monster and save us all? It was not possible, of that I was certain.

'Then, suddenly, he was there. My Harry,' I tell Lady Granger.

I smile, the darkness of that day disappearing, to be replaced by the sheer joy of remembering that first glimpse I had of him.

'I knew at once that I had been mistaken. This was no boy. To be sure, my Harry was young, not all that tall and quite slender. But no one could mistake the intense thrum of formidable power vibrating off of him. Part of it was his incredible magic, certainly. But most of all, it was the strength of his presence, the person he was, is… It was quite extraordinary'.

I close my eyes, seeing him before me as I did at that moment.

'It was the most beautiful, breath-taking sight I had ever seen'.

I realise Lady Granger must still be here, must still be listening to my words. But she might as well not be. It is not her I am telling this to, I am simply saying the words aloud for the pleasure of hearing them spoken.

'I felt it. Knew the moment he appeared before us, stepping out of the darkness of the forest. This was the person I was meant to be with. I knew that with absolute certainty. He was the one that I belonged to. The one person that belonged to me. I was overwhelmed by this feeling of… rightness. I cannot describe it in any other way. Our eyes locked and in that instant I knew he felt it too'.

'And then he fell'.

Lady Granger gasps, startling me. She quickly composes herself and motions for me to go on.

'I felt him die, felt it as if it were my own heart that stopped beating. Faintly, I was aware that the Dark Lord was cackling somewhere behind me, shouting his triumph while all around us were frozen in silence. I had not realised I had moved until I found myself kneeling besides my Harry's lifeless body'.

I smile wryly.

'That caught the Dark Lord's attention. He called to me, commanding me to return to his side. But I was unable to respond. I could not play games at this time, I was too distraught. Thank Merlin that Mother had her wits about her. I had not even registered that she was there until I heard her speak.

"Excellent idea, Draco darling,' she said, her voice strong and confident. "Best make sure Potter is indeed dead".

'I breathed a sigh of relief, bending over Harry's body as if to do just that. I felt the grief hit me as I touched his lifeless body, the pain so intense that I was unable to straighten up. Instead, I slumped further over his body and begged him to return to me. That is when he stirred'.

'Is the boy dead?' the Dark Lord asked, his voice terse and demanding.

I was shocked. I knew, though I could not yet comprehend how, that Harry had come back to me. I also knew beyond any trace of a doubt, that I could not allow the Dark Lord to know this. Not yet'.

'Yes. Yes he is,' I lied.

As the Dark Lord howled in triumph, I tried to keep my head. I needed to act and act fast, for neither Harry nor I would ever have a better chance'.

'I did the only thing I could think of to do. I quickly slipped my wand out of its holster and pushed it up my Harry's sleeve. I did not know why, but Harry did not carry his wand when he came into the clearing. His need was greater than mine. The wand slid up his arm smoothly and I felt him grasp it as he opened his eyes for just a moment. I forced myself not to react, not to betray a thing. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do'.

I stare out of the window, but instead of the tranquil grounds, I see that clearing in the Forbidden Forest. I see my Harry, lying frighteningly still, as I step back from him. I knew him to be alive, but one would not know it from looking at his body, lying crumpled on the ground. The only thing that was keeping me back, was the awareness of his steady heartbeat, the feel of it somewhere close to my own. I did not understand how this could be, how we could be connected in such a way. But I accepted it, as I would many other things that evening. It felt too true to doubt it for even an instant.

'The Dark Lord ordered the tallest, largest man I have ever seen to carry Harry's body back to the castle. The sight of him might have frightened me at one time, but not now I knew what fear was. Fear was the Dark Lord. Fear was death. But most of all, fear was being separated from the man who I now knew was my Harry. Always my Harry. And that thought strengthened me'.

'I knew that, right there, could not be the end of our story. In that moment I learned to trust my Veela instincts that told me it could not be so. That knowledge was what enabled me to follow the procession silently, not looking at my Harry, not looking at anything but the soil and leaves, covering the ground as I moved one foot in front of the other'.

'The Dark Lord was talking, constantly speaking, chanting almost. I do not believe his words made any kind of sense, or at least they made no sense to me. He had summoned me back to his side as soon as we started moving toward the Castle. I did my best to ignore the little touches to my arm, my back, as he talked on and on about nothing anyone could comprehend'.

'I could feel the uncertainty around me, the terror, the dread. People who had been forced to join the Dark Lord, as my parents had, who had hoped against hope that my Harry would defeat their Lord and free them from his dominion. I sensed the despair of my Harry's allies that had been captured during the Battle, his friends who had clung on to hope until they watched him fall. I could even feel the confusion, the frantic thoughts of escape of those who had once believed in the Dark Lord but had long ago realised their mistake. I could sense them, every single one, but strongest of all I knew my Harry's heart. I recognised his determination not to fail all those depending on him. I heard his doubts, his self-recriminations to be stronger, faster, better, to be that Saviour everyone so fervently wished and needed him to be'.

I remember. I'm there. I feel the calm wash over me as it did then, the conviction that my Harry needed me and that I would be there for him.

'I told him. I made my Harry feel that he was that Saviour, that he could do this. That he would succeed, he would survive, because people needed him to. Because I needed him to. It would not be easy. But I believed. And somehow, I made him believe it too.

xxx

Hermione had been trying desperately not to interrupt, but she could hold her tongue no longer. The story was so compelling, so moving, and Malfoy had managed to take her along and re-live it right alongside him.

'But how? How did you tell him?' she asked. Because she was still Hermione Granger and she needed to know, to understand.

Malfoy looked at her and said: 'Do not ask me to explain. It is not possible for anyone not of Veela blood to comprehend the way a Veela can reach out and connect to someone that is in their heart. I do not have the words. Just trust that I knew how to reach him and I felt it when he heard'.

Hermione swallowed. She didn't interrupt again, not during the whole of Malfoy's description of the final duel between Harry and Voldemort. Had Malfoy been there? Hermione didn't know. But Merlin it sounded like he had been. Hermione's heart ached for Harry, for Malfoy, as she listened to Malfoy's words.

'Then, suddenly, everything changed. My Harry leaped to the ground and before anyone realised what had happened he had drawn his wand and cast the first curse at the Dark Lord. I hurriedly stepped away, the Dark Lord too stunned for a moment by my Harry's miraculous resurrection to stop me. It was just one moment, just enough for me to make my escape. And then the Dark Lord let out a blood curdling scream and started firing curse after curse my Harry's way'.

'We were so close to the Castle that I could see the faces behind the windows. Too far away to recognise anyone, but I knew what the expressions on their faces would be. The same mixture of hope and fear I could see on those around me. No one was fighting now, everyone was riveted by the sight of two wizards, equal in strength, yet so very different in every other way. The Dark Lord was vicious in his moves, his spells dark and lethal, his movements angular and precise, black robes billowing around him as a cloud of doom'.

'On the opposite side was my Harry, his eyes and hair wild, but his movements fluent as they can be only from talent, not practice. He moved lightning fast, dodging most of the Dark Lord's curses, countering them with complicated wand work and powerful defensive spells. I reached out to him, encouraged him, strengthened him without uttering a single word'.

Hermione felt riveted, pinned to her chair, swept up by the emotions as she listened to Malfoy talk on. She could see it, picture it, she'd seen Harry fight of course and Malfoy described it perfectly. The way he talked about Voldemort made her feel chilled down to her bones, remembering him as he was, thankful that he was well and truly gone.

'When Harry cast that famous last Expelliarmus, the whole world seemed to come to a stop. No one dared believe it when the Dark Lord fell for the final time. No one spoke, no one even dared to breathe during those first moments'.

'And Harry, my Harry, he did not look like a victor. He looked defeated, deflated, exhausted…'

'I went to him and for a brief moment it was like it was just my Harry and I. He smiled at me, a tired smile, and I reached out my hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into it for just a moment and then I knew he had to go. They were calling for him you see, the survivors, the dead, demanding his attention'.

"You have to go," I said, not letting go.

'He handed back my wand and stepped back from me then, but not before he looked at me and said that he would find me. I told him I knew he would'.

There was a knock at the door. Hermione tore her eyes away from Malfoy to glance at the clock. It wasn't time for the end of their session just yet, so why would someone disturb them? Deciding it must be important, Hermione excused herself and went to get the door.

'I'm so sorry Dr Granger, but Mr Malfoy seems to have some visitors,' Nurse Cattermole explained, her voice sounding very apologetic.

'Didn't you tell them to wait?' Hermione asked, feeling confused.

'I did,' Nurse Cattermole assured her, 'but er… they were very determined'.

She gave a subtle motion with her head, indicating Hermione to look over her shoulder.

Ah. That would explain it. There, sitting primly on two of the high-backed chairs in the waiting area, were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

'What do you want me to do?' Nurse Cattermole enquired anxiously.

Hermione thought for a moment. She had no idea what Malfoy's response would be. Then again, they were his parents…

'Show them into the visiting room. I'll talk to Mr Malfoy,' she said.

Hermione returned to Malfoy's side. His mind had clearly drifted off somewhere, his eyes unfocussed and staring.

'Mr Malfoy?' Hermione called softly, waiting until he faced her before continuing. 'You have some visitors. Your parents are here. Shall we continue this tomorrow?'

Hermione did not miss the look of surprise and worry that flashed over Malfoy's face, before he schooled it back into a polite mask.

'Why yes,' he said easily. 'Certainly'.

He quickly raised himself out of his chair, gave his customary bow and briefly kissed her hand before heading for the door. At the threshold, he hesitated. He turned back to face Hermione and asked: 'Pray tell Milady, did you request my parents to come visit me here?'

He looked at her uncertainly.

'I assure you I did not Mr Malfoy. I am as surprised as you are,' Hermione assured him.

'Well,' Malfoy said, still not stepping all the way out of her office.

'Mr Malfoy, you do realise you are under no obligation to speak to your visitors? I could send them away if you'd like?' Hermione suggested kindly.

Malfoy seemed to shake himself.

'Thank you Lady Granger, but that will not be necessary. I shall see you again tomorrow?'

As Hermione gave an affirmative nod, Malfoy left, leaving the door open behind him.

xxx

At the end of her day, Hermione wasn't surprised to find Lucius Malfoy waiting outside her office. She'd walked past the large window of the visiting room several times that day, in between patients when she'd got herself some coffee or needed to use the toilet. She couldn't stop herself from looking in, very curious to see Malfoy interacting with his parents.

She hadn't liked what she'd seen. Every time she passed the window, Lucius seemed to be the one to do the talking. It troubled her to see the way Malfoy was effected by Lucius words. He'd seemed smaller somehow, younger and more vulnerable.

Narcissa was clutching her son's hand, her eyes moist and her face almost tormented. Lucius looked just as Hermione remembered him, stern, unyielding, and even though she couldn't hear his words, she knew them to be condescending.

Every time she'd glanced in, Malfoy seemed to have grown paler, his body slumped down a little further in his chair. She contemplated interrupting them, because this could not be good for Malfoy, surely. But then she noticed a sudden spark of anger in Malfoy's eyes, the now quite determined set of his shoulders, the way he lifted his chin defiantly. No, she decided. Perhaps this was something that needed to happen. So Hermione had stepped back and let it.

And now here was Malfoy senior, standing there in his imperious way, letting her know that he was expecting to be allowed entrance without delay. He didn't say it of course. He didn't say anything at all. Hermione sighed and put on a polite smile.

'Mr Malfoy. Do come in,' she said.

She led the way, not to the chairs by the window that she'd occupied with Draco Malfoy earlier, but to her large mahogany desk instead. She sat down in the leather swivel chair behind it, leaving Lucius no choice but to take the chair in front of it. Hermione hid a smile. Just because she didn't have the patience or the inclination to indulge in power play often, didn't mean she had no understanding of it. The stoic mask Lucius wore as he lowered himself on the chair might have fooled Hermione in thinking he was perfectly indifferent. But the tiny twitch of his mouth and the frosted anger in his eyes told her differently.

Hermione just sat there and waited. She did not have to wait long.

'Mss Granger. I would thank you to stop indulging my Son's little fancies and advise you to find your entertainment elsewhere from now on. I…'

Hermione interrupted him with a polite clearing of her throat.

'It's Dr Granger actually. And I'm not sure I know what you mean,' she said, smiling delicately.

The rage that sparked in Lucius' eyes was no longer cold and restrained. Although he didn't lean over the desk or raise his voice or did anything else to indicate his anger, the measured way he spoke his next words said it all.

'Do not play games with me Dr Granger,' Lucius said. 'I have no patience for them. I will not have you encouraging my son in this Veela nonsense. And you will keep that little half-blood friend of yours away as well'.

Hermione felt her heart speed up. Was she about to find out more about what happened between Harry and Malfoy?

'Will I?' she asked, as neutral as she could make it.

Lucius' face screwed up in anger as he launched himself out of his chair. He splayed both hands on the desk in front of him and leaned forward in what Hermione assumed was meant to be an intimidating manner. Well, she'd not been intimidated by Lucius Malfoy when she was still at Hogwarts and she certainly wasn't going to be intimidated by him now. All she did was raise her eyebrows at him and wait.

'You will let my son leave with his mother and me this instant. You will not speak of anything he told you to anyone in any way. Am I making myself clear?' Lucius barked at her.

'Actually,' Hermione responded, giving Malfoy Senior her most innocent smile, 'it is up to your son to decide if, when and with whom he wishes to leave. And as for Harry, well, I'm afraid he has a mind of his own. So it looks like I won't be able to be of assistance to you at this moment Mr Malfoy. I do apologise. I'm sure you remember the way out'.

She emphasised those last words by purposely pulling the computer keyboard toward her, turned her attention to the screen and ignored Lucius Malfoy completely. She had to bite her lip not to smile when she heard the noise of indignation escape his throat.

'Do not delude yourself into thinking you've won here'.

Hermione forced herself not to react, to just keep typing and not give the bastard the satisfaction of a response.

'I managed to pry them apart ten years ago and I will do it again if I must,' Lucius sneered at her. 'It would be best not to make me. I can assure you that neither you nor your friend will enjoy my methods'.

It took everything Hermione had to keep typing, even when she heard Lucius Malfoy turn on his heels and stalk out of her office. She waited until she was sure the Malfoys had left the premises before she slipped out of her office in search of Draco Malfoy.

She looked for him at the cafeteria and in the games room. But Lavender came to find her and told her he'd retired to his room for the day.

'How did he seem?' she asked anxiously.

Lavender shrugged.

'Like he's just had a visit from his arsehole of a father. Not great. But he'll be ok,' she added, giving Hermione a reassuring smile.

Hermione nodded.

'Thank you,' she said. 'I'll be in my office for about another hour before heading home. Let me know if anything changes?'

xxx

In the end, it was closer to two hours before she locked her office door behind her. Malfoy still hadn't come out of his room. With a sigh, she stepped outside and walked the short distance to the nearest apparition point.

When she got home, the house was quiet. Instead of calling for Ron, she wandered through the house, looking for him. She was glad she did when she spotted her husband dozing on the sofa. Little Dominique, Fleur and Bill's second daughter, was curled up on his chest, sound asleep. Hermione felt her chest constrict at the sight of them together.

He was handsome her husband, somehow she'd almost forgot that. Ron was tall and strong, but he had a tenderness that she'd always been drawn to. That tenderness was only too clear from the way his arm curled protectively around the baby even as he was half asleep.

She couldn't help herself. Not wanting to wake Ron or the baby, she tiptoed over to the sofa and bent down to press a soft kiss on top of Ron's head. He stirred for a moment and Hermione held her breath, but he didn't wake up. She turned her attention to the little blonde baby and kissed the top of her head as well.

'We need to be quiet aunt Hermione. They've been playing all afternoon and now they need their little nap'.

Hermione looked around, startled to see Victoire, Bill and Fleur's eldest daughter, sitting in the winged armchair, looking very solemn indeed.

She smiled at the little girl and walked over to her.

'Playing all afternoon you say? Well that would be exhausting,' Hermione said gravely. 'And what about you then? Don't you need a nap as well?'

Victoire looked scandalised.

'Aunt Hermione, I am seven years old. I do not take naps anymore. I'm not a baby'.

Hermione bit her lip to repress a smile. Somehow, she doubted Victoire would appreciate her laughing right now.

Instead she said: 'Of course, I'm so sorry. My mistake. Why don't we go into the kitchen? I'll make you some lemonade if you like?'

An hour later, Bill had picked up his girls, Ron had woken up and they were working side by side on a simple meal of pasta and salad. Hermione glanced at her husband from time to time, appreciating both the familiarity and the newness of this. Ron hadn't changed. He was still efficient with his dicing, if a bit sloppy, and he hummed and made appreciative noises as he tasted the food and drank the glass of wine Hermione had poured for him, just as he did every other time they cooked together. It wasn't that he had changed, it was just that Hermione hadn't been looking lately. And now she was.

When Ron caught her looking, he asked: 'What?'

Hermione shook her head, blushing lightly.

'Nothing,' she said. 'That new shirt I bought you looks good on you, that's all'.

Ron grinned at her.

'I've always said you had excellent taste,' he said. 'And you're smart. I mean, you picked me, didn't you'.

He winked at her, making her laugh.

xxx

The next morning, Hermione was still smiling. They'd had a lovely evening and night, leaving Hermione happy and sated in a way she hadn't been for ages. She'd come to take her husband for granted these last couple of years, and it had taken Malfoy's story to make her realise just how lucky she actually was. She'd kissed Ron before they both went into work, a soft, lingering kiss that still had her tingling pleasantly when she walked up the path to Octavio House.

It wasn't until she'd almost reached the door that Hermione started to fret a bit, worrying if Malfoy was alright after yesterday's visit from his parents. Well, she'd find out soon enough.

Malfoy was her first patient of the day and when she entered her office, she was startled to find him already there, waiting for her.

Malfoy got up from his chair and met her halfway.

'Forgive me Milady. I confess I requested that the kind nurse open up your office for me so I could wait for you here. I do hope I have not offended you by doing so,' he said

Of course she did, Hermione thought, resigned to the effect Malfoy's charm had on all of her staff.

Hermione looked at him as she told him it was alright, he had not offended her. He looked different today. He still wore the Regency style clothing, but something seemed off. It wasn't anything big, just a crease or two in the crisp white shirt, his cravat not tied as precisely as it had been, that sort of thing. And he looked… yes, he looked a bit nervous.

As they sat down in their respective chairs, Malfoy cleared his throat awkwardly.

'I erm… believe you spoke to my father yesterday', he said, clearly trying for a neutral sounding voice, but not quite pulling it off.

'I did,' she confirmed, smiling encouragingly.

'Yes, well… I er, presume you have noticed we do not share the same views in all things?' Malfoy said.

Hermione thought he meant to say it as in a statement, but in fact it ended up sounding more like a question.

'Do not worry yourself Mr Malfoy,' she started, and then hesitated.

Hermione prided herself on always remaining professional. She knew she had a good head on her shoulders and how to use it. But Hermione had found that sometimes, it was best to go with her gut feelings. And her gut was telling her that this was Draco, sitting in front of her now. Not Malfoy, not Mr Malfoy or Lord Malfoy. No, this was just Draco.

She took a deep breath and said: 'I do apologise if this is inappropriate of me Mr Malfoy, but would it be alright if I called you Draco?'

Draco looked shocked for a moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaping. But Hermione took comfort from the fact that there was no anger mixed in with the shock.

'You see, she quickly explained, 'calling you Mr Malfoy feels wrong now somehow, like I'm talking to your father instead of you. And you're a much better man than he ever was. I do hope you'll always remember that'.

Draco closed his mouth and looked at her thoughtfully.

'Well,' he said, 'I must say this is highly irregular. However, I find that I do not have any real objections to this kind of familiarity between you and I'.

He gave her a hesitant smile. Hermione beamed back at him and said: 'Thank you Draco. And you must call me Hermione of course'.

xxx

I am unsure what to say. I have enjoyed the way we have spoken to each other this past week, no matter how difficult it was to speak about certain subjects. It has been good for me to talk about my experiences, to feel those emotions in a way I had not allowed myself to in a very long while. I understand that now.

I feel closer to Lady Granger as a result, not just as a friend of my dear Harry, but as a wonderful person in her own right. And I must confess, hearing her address me as Draco was not at all unpleasant. So yes, perhaps I should attempt to do as Lady Granger requested and use her given name.

'I will try. Hermione', I try.

Saying the name feels strange to me, but not necessarily in an unpleasant way. Yes, I believe I may grow accustomed to calling Lady Granger so in time.

'Thank you Draco. Now, let me assure you that I have no interest in listening to your father's or anyone else's opinions about you, your life or your choices. I am however very interested in what you yourself have to say'.

A feeling of gratitude washes over me. We understand each other, Hermione and I, without the need to speak every word.

'Of course Milady, Hermione, it will be my pleasure,' I assure her.

'It was two weeks later that I first saw my Harry again,' I begin. 'He had sent me several owls, and I him, but I had not seen him in person since the night of the Battle. I had kept my distance out of respect, allowing him some time to attend the many funerals, talk to his friends, be around the people that needed him. I understood that my time would come. Difficult as it was, I was patient'.

'When the letter came with his request to visit me at the Manor, I was overjoyed. It had been very peculiar staying at the Manor again. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when I was a boy. There were no reminders of the Dark Lord, it was as if he had never existed. To see the Manor restored to how it was meant to be, was a joy to behold. And yet… Even though it looked the same, it could never be the same'.

I look at Lady Granger, Hermione, helplessly. It is so difficult to put words to that feeling of wrongness. Nothing to be explained as easily as a rip in a curtain or a stain in the carpet. These blemishes, if one can call them that, were not the kind visible to the naked eye.

But as I should have realised by now, Lady Granger, Hermione, only nods in understanding. She must have dealt with her own changes after the war, the feeling of nothing ever being the same again. Therefore, I can continue.

'It was a Friday morning, quite early, that the wards chimed to announce my Harry's arrival. The sound startled me, as it was different from any other time I had heard them chime. Not the familiar clear ring that announced a member of the family, nor was it the low gong of a family friend. Instead, I heard a sweet tone, that seemed to linger somewhat, like the plucking of a harp's string perhaps. If I was not expecting him already, I would have known it was him from the way the sound touched my heart. It was our most loyal House Elf Fimbley that led my Harry to my private study, where I was waiting for him'.

"Harry", I said, stepping forward and taking both of his hands in mine. "My Harry, it is so good to see you again".

'He smiled at me and flushed, the tension of grief and regret slowly diminishing as I let my touch linger. I had read about the losses, his losses, in the Prophet, but I did not want to tarnish this moment with feelings of sorrow. They could come later, for both of us, but not now'.

'I led him to a small sofa and we sat down beside each other. In those first moments, we did not speak, or not with words that could be heard by anyone but my Harry and I. I had read about this in some of the books in our library, how a Veela can sometimes communicate with his or her mate, by touch, by the sharing of thoughts or feelings. But I had not thought the newly formed bond between Harry and I could have progressed that far already. Harry picked up on my wonder and laughed'.

"I believe the life debt between us might have something to do with that," he said. "And besides, things always seem to go a bit differently whenever I'm involved. And as far as I can tell, there's nothing at all ordinary about you".

I smile as I remember my Harry's words and the way his eyes shone as he spoke them. If he had not captured my heart from the moment I first laid eyes on him already, he would have conquered it then.

I tell Lady G-, no Hermione a little about how we talked for hours that day. I asked him about his life, hungry to learn everything I could about his life before me. He told me about his time at Hogwarts, of how he became friends with first Mr Weasley and later Hermione as well. I tell Hermione what wonderful things my Harry told me about their loyalty to him, their adventures together and how he could not have defeated the Dark Lord without them by his side. Hermione smiles at me as she hears this and tells me how loyalty to my Harry is no chore whatsoever. We share a pleasant moment at those words, for no one knows them to be true more than I.

'He talked about his time at Hogwarts easily, about all his friends there, the teachers, the exploring of the Castle and its grounds. He even talked about the Weasley family, staying with them during school holidays and how wonderful it felt to almost be part of a real family'.

Those words triggered something. Why had my Harry not told me anything about his own family? I knew of course, as did everyone in wizarding England, that his brave parents had perished in their effort to protect him. But what about his other family, the Muggle family that had taken him in?

'I asked my Harry about the Dursley family, the Muggles that had raised him. He tried to distract me, tried to change the subject by giving me no more than saying they were fine. That of course, told me at once that they were anything but fine,' I finish, sharing a meaningful look with Hermione.

There is no need to go into detail, for she knows. If she does not know the particulars, she knows enough to condemn them as I have. I would have done more of course, I was going to do more. But my Harry would not allow it. He told me it was not my battle to fight. Well, he was mistaken about that and I told him so. They had done the unforgivable in hurting my Harry and I wished to destroy them for that. My Harry had simply looked at me, his eyes sad but determined, and told me no. It was not what my Harry wanted. And that, I had to accept.

'He asked me what my life had been like. Why I had not attended Hogwarts with him as we were of the same age. What it was like for me to live behind wards for so long and what exactly it meant to have Veela blood. I tried to answer every question as truthfully as I could, understanding his thirst for knowledge about me as I felt the same about him. The one subject we did not spent much time talking about, was the Dark Lord. There was no need. We both knew what happened there'.

'What he did tell me however, was how sometimes, my Harry had been forced to see through the Dark Lord's eyes and see the horrible acts he performed. The torture, both mental and physical. The destruction, the taunting, the cold blooded murder… He told me it was like being inside the Dark Lord's head, a feeling so hateful and vile that it could not be borne. I was startled to learn that it was through such an experience that my Harry first laid eyes on me'.

"I could see him looking at you, coveting you, his desire to own you," my Harry told me. "It was that which woke me up, made me able to rise to the surface of the visions of my dream. Because I knew you could not be meant for a monster such as him. Fate could not be that cruel. Not when I realised, in that moment between sleep and wakefulness, that I wanted you for myself. Not to own or to possess, but to love you, to hold you, be with you, protect you…"

I remember him shrugging helplessly at that point, as if to say he knew not how to explain himself properly. I assured him I understood, as I had felt the same from the moment I saw him walking toward me in that clearing. That was when he kissed me.

'As our lips touched, the world seemed to kilter for a moment, rearrange itself around us and then everything settled into its rightful place. I had to hold on to his arms, grounding myself by clinging on to him. I felt him slide his arms around my waist and pull me closer, steadying me while deepening our kiss'.

'Where at first it was the world around us that had started spinning, it was now within us that the storm raged. I felt his heart beat fast and hard next to mine, sensed my blood heating up, cascading through me as if in ever increasing coils of heat. As he pressed closer and closer still, our souls seemed to almost melt together, separate yet inseparable, connected and not,' I tell Hermione.

I am grateful now that Lady Granger insisted I call her by her given name. I do not believe I could have spoken this freely with her otherwise. But as frank as I have attempted to be, I cannot tell her what happened next. She is a grown woman, herself married for several years, she must be able to conclude how the evening progressed from that point. To speak of it however, with anyone but my Harry, is simply unthinkable.

Therefore I do not mention to her how I vanished our clothing and lowered my Harry on to the carpet, grateful for its high quality and softness, unable to delay our joining long enough for us to retire to the bedchamber. I do not say a word about my hands and his, each exploring and touching as much skin as we possibly could, feverish in our attempts to get closer, closer… I do not say it, but I remember it.

Oh how I remember it, the feeling of his warm, naked skin against my own, my hands burying themselves in his hair, feeling the silky strands slip through my fingers, so much softer than I thought they would be. His arms and legs, wrapped tightly around me, urging me to move, to take, to claim. Merlin, how I had lost myself then.

This was nothing like my experiences with any of my former lovers. It was far more, more intense, more passionate, more everything.

I could not stop talking, telling him how beautiful he was, how precious, how I loved him and that he would be mine from now on. I said his name, over and over again, Harry, my Harry…

He did not speak as much as I did, but he was far from silent. He moaned when I traced kisses down his neck and chest, cried out when I used my tongue and careful teeth on his sensitive nipples, gasped as I reached down and enclosed him with a warm, firm hand. He cried out when I started stroking him, the angle slightly awkward since he would not release the tight grip of his arms and legs around me. He whimpered, soft and beautiful sounds, interspersed with the breathless calling of my name.

I remember what it felt like to enter him, his body hot and tight around me, the arousal so intense that it came close to blinding me. It did not matter, for I knew it was my Harry pinned beneath me, my Harry that let out those noises of pleasure, sounding close to sobs. My Harry that clung onto my hips so tightly that I could feel the press of his blunt fingernails against my flesh, knew his hold was so firm it would leave bruises. I did not care. In fact, I welcomed it.

I thrust into him, slow and tentative at first, but my movements rapidly grew more feverish and erratic. There was an overwhelming pleasure, curling upwards from my toes and my groin, enhanced by the feeling of being connected with the person I loved, the sense of being whole for the first time in my life.

Our emotions felt thick, almost palpable around us, as we moved faster and faster, riding an unstoppable wave of pleasure before we reached our climax and tumbled over the edge. My magic sparked then, a spark I could both see and feel. It was not without pain, nor was the brightness of it particularly pleasing. But the discomfort lasted only a moment, soon to be replaced by a profound feeling of joy and acceptance.

'I knew our bond had been completed,' I explain to Hermione. 'My Harry felt it too'.

I struggle to control myself. I will not fall apart, I will not allow it.

'Our time together lasted until early in the new year. My Harry and I shared everything, we talked, we laughed, we made love. I showed him every part of the Manor and its grounds, introduced him to the House Elves, shared stories about the Malfoy heirlooms. He in turn confided in me, told me about his Muggle family, about my Cousin Baron Sirius Black who I had never even met and about the other Marauders. We talked about our feelings, something that came easily to my Harry but which I found difficult at the start. We shared a wonderful Christmas together, filled with warmth and tenderness, surrounded by delicate decorations and piles and piles of presents. It was beautiful, that time we had together, so precious to us both'.

'And then Father interrupted his travels around Europe and came back to pay me a visit in early January'.

xxx

Hermione had been swept up by Draco's story once again, seeing the images of Harry and Draco together play before her as in a Muggle film, only to land with a thud at the mention of Lucius Malfoy. Right. Ok then. That would mean they had reached the part of the story where it all fell to pieces.

Hermione almost didn't want Draco to continue. The way Draco had described his feelings for Harry, the passion she could sense from him… Silly as that may be, she just didn't want it to be over.

'Father was not pleased to find Harry and I together,' Draco said, sounding subdued. It was as if he was as reluctant to tell this part of the story as Hermione was to hear it.

'He did not show his displeasure in front of my Harry, who Father had to consider a guest. That would have been inappropriate and Merlin forbid a Malfoy ever be inappropriate'.

There was a bitterness to that last statement that Hermione appreciated. Good. It looked like Draco might not let himself be bullied by his father quite so easily in the future.

'Father was all pleasant hospitality, thanking my Harry for saving us from the Dark Lord, making polite conversation, being the perfect host. But all the while I knew Father was furious with me, even if I did not understand why. He did not enlighten me about that part until teatime the next day'.

Draco sighed, shifted in his seat restlessly before finally getting up. He didn't look at Hermione. Instead, he stepped close to the window, leaned his right hand and his forehead against the cool glass and stared out at the grounds.

'My Harry had excused himself as he was required to attend some sort of public gathering that day. Father barely waited until the Floo had died down behind my Harry before he turned to me and started berating me. He scolded me for not coming to him before involving myself with someone who would never be more than a half blood, hero of the Wizarding World or no. Father said that Mother and he had found the perfect bride for me, from a proper Italian Pureblood family of course, a Principessa no less. He told me that this was why he had come back for a visit to the Manor in fact, to persuade me to join them in Italy and meet the Orsini family. I refused'.

Hermione didn't say anything as Draco pushed himself away from the window and started pacing around her office. She felt for him, could understand his restlessness perfectly. In fact, she wouldn't mind a bit of pacing herself. She looked out the window, noticed the lovely Summer day outside and shrugged to herself. Why not.

'Would you like to continue our talk outside?' she suggested.

Draco smiled at her gratefully.

'What an excellent suggestion Lady Hermione. I do long for some fresh air and a brisk walk. Shall we?' he said, holding out an arm for her.

Hermione was quick to get to her feet and allowed Draco to lead her through the communal room, past the game room and the visiting room, valiantly ignoring all the stares her staff threw at her. So what if she'd never taken a patient outside for a session before? It wasn't as if it was against the rules or anything. And Hermione would know, seeing as she was the one that actually wrote the stupid rulebook.

They were walking along the little stream that flowed from the pond when Draco started speaking again.

'Father was livid. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was expected to abandon my "foolish notions" as he called them and join Mother and he in Italy at once. I could tell that he expected me to obey him without question, as I had in the past. He reminded me that he may no longer be head of the family, seeing as he relinquished that right plus the ownership of the Manor to me before he left for Italy, but he was still my father and therefore was entitled to my respect. I assured him that he would always have my respect. But that my heart and my life belonged to my Harry now'.

'Father tried to reason with me then, attempted to convince me that my Harry did not feel as deeply for me as I him. He told me about your sister in law, Duchess Ginevra Weasley and how she, not I had managed to capture my Harry's heart'.

Draco staggered as he spoke those last word and Hermione quickly reached out her hand to steady him.

'Are you alright?' she asked him.

Draco smiled sadly.

'I do not believe things have truly been right for me since that moment dear Hermione,' he confessed quietly.

'I did not wish to believe Father, truly I did not, but I confess he managed to plant a seed of doubt in me. After all, my Harry had spoken of all the Weasley's, including Duchess Ginevra, so very fondly. I could hear the longing in his voice as he talked about how he had wished he genuinely belonged to that family. And what better way than to marry their youngest daughter?'

'I refused to let Father see the uncertainty he had managed to stir in me. I stood up to him, as I rarely have before or since. I told him that there was but one person for me and that was and always would be my Harry'.

Draco was quiet for a while and they walked along in silence. When they passed the wooden bench by the pond for the second time, Hermione suggested they sit down for a moment. She had noticed Draco grow paler and saw him swallowing several times. He obliged without comment, his posture a bit stiff and his left foot tapping restlessly as he continued talking.

'Father was as angry as I had ever seen him, But he did not shout or even raise his voice at me. He just looked at me, his eyes full of cold anger and disappointment. In that moment, I felt about six years old. Father had a way of making me feel small, still has truth be told'.

Hermione didn't comment. She didn't think Draco was ready to hear her personal opinion on Lucius Malfoy, even if Draco had shown some signs of tentative resistance.

'When my Harry came back that evening, Father was as polite as ever. After dinner, Fimbley came into the dining room and walked up to me. The Elf seemed nervous somehow, not at all his usual self. He told me Mother wished to speak to me by means of the Floo in my private study. I hesitated, reluctant to leave Father and my Harry alone together. But Father insisted I go at once. I gave my Harry an apologetic look and excused myself, determined to come back as quickly as possible'.

Hermione had a feeling she knew where this was going. It seemed highly unlikely that Narcissa just happened to Floo call just at that moment. No, she recognised Lucius' hand in this, as she was sure had Draco.

'I tried to keep our conversation short in order to return to my Harry's side promptly. But the study was quite far from the dining room we were using that evening and the trip back and forth alone took much longer than I had hoped. When I returned to my Harry's side, Father had retired for the night. But I knew he had accomplished what he wanted with my Harry before he left. I could see it in my Harry's eyes. Something had irrevocably changed'.

Hermione pretended not to see the single tear gliding down Draco's cheek.

'What had your father told him?' Hermione asked, as gently as she could.

Draco sighed and swiped the tear away with an angry stroke of his arm.

'I'm not entirely sure. Neither of them told me what exactly had happened between them, no matter how many times I asked'.

'My Harry started to drift away from me from that point. He stayed with me for another week, but it was not the same. We did not talk as we used to, I believe that was the greatest change. My Harry had been so open with me until that moment, and now, it felt as if he was slipping away and I was helpless to stop him'.

'So what happened?' Hermione pried gently.

Draco gave her a sad smile and shook his head.

'I apologise dear Hermione. Might we leave it here for today?'

Hermione sighed. It looked as though Draco wouldn't be able to go on and of course she would have to accept that. But she so wanted to hear the rest of the story. It was her overwhelming curiosity and her thirst to always know more, certainly. But also, something was telling her that they were running out of time. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it seemed as though Draco was drifting away. She searched her brain, trying to decipher what it was that made her feel this way. But it wasn't until Draco had escorted her back to her office when her feelings were confirmed.

Draco hesitated at her door. He looked at his feet, not at her when he almost whispered: 'Do you believe I should let go Hermione?'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Hermione said carefully. She might have her suspicions, but she really needed Draco to say the words.

Draco waited for a while before answering. He didn't move, just kept staring at his feet, his shoulders slumped and his hands clenched into fists by his side.

Finally, he spoke.

'My Harry… He is your friend. I know you must have spoken since I first arrived here. Am I mistaken?' he asked, finally raising his eyes to meet hers.

Hermione hesitated before saying: 'Draco, you do realise that our conversations here are confidential?'

Draco blinked.

Hermione realised at once that true or not, that hadn't been the right thing to say. She watched as Draco's expression became more guarded, his eyes looking at her but not seeming to really see her. Her heart beating fast, she knew she had to fix this, whatever she had just done, she needed to fix it now.

'I mean,' she started, her voice sounding a little breathless in her urge to get the words out, 'I would never discuss anything you've told me with someone else. Not without your permission'.

She held her breath. Would it be enough?

Draco turned away from her, his eyes unfocussed, his expression closed. Hermione felt dread wash over her. But she didn't know what else she could do, not right at that moment. So she waited.

Finally, Draco spoke.

'Lady Hermione, I have loved my Harry from the moment we met. The times we have shared together are precious to me, vital even. And I have never once given up hope'.

When Draco turned back to face her, Hermione winced at the pain she could see in his eyes.

'I have never given up hope,' Draco repeated. 'But I am not sure if I can hold on any longer. Not without… Perhaps it is time to let go'.

'No,' Hermione said vehemently.

She hadn't meant to say that out loud, especially not so forcefully. But as she watched the spark of mild interest in Draco's eyes, she found herself glad she had.

'No?' he asked, his eyes searching Hermione's face for she didn't know what.

'No,' she confirmed, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at him in challenge.

Though the sadness in Draco's eyes hadn't lifted completely, he did manage to give her a half smile as he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

'Very well,' Draco said. 'Lady Hermione, you have my permission. I have waited to be with my Harry for a very long time. I suppose I can wait a little while longer. Most likely'.

Draco gave her a little helpless shrug, took her hand to kiss it and then left Hermione with her thoughts.

xxx

Hermione brooded all day long, and it certainly was a long day. She had to see Finch-Fletchley again today and he was even more tiresome than usual. Hermione tried to listed to the first two complaints he whinged about, but by the third, she wasn't even pretending to listen. Not that it mattered. The man never really expected a response, just expected someone to sit there and listen to his inane whining.

Her next two clients were new ones, their troubles real enough, but nothing serious enough to truly challenge Hermione. She listened to them, asked questions and gave sympathetic noises at appropriate places, but all the while, her head was filled with Draco.

His last words had rattled her badly. It seemed as though Draco was at the end of his tether and if Hermione were to help him, she would have to act swiftly. Her heart tightened as she remembered reading Draco's file, how the staff as St Mary's had thought he had been about to jump off Big Ben when they found him. What if he had been? What if Hermione couldn't fix him, fix this? He was safe in Octavio House for now, but what if…

By the time she led out her last patient of the day, a plan had formed in her head. Instead of going home, Hermione sent a quick owl to Ron saying she would be late and apparated straight to number 12 Grimmauld Place. She hoped Harry would be home, and let out a sigh of relief as she heard the door click open.

Harry swung the door open and stepped back with a sigh.

'Hermione. Right. Might as well come in then'.

He walked back into the house and Hermione followed him in to the living room. Harry had renovated the whole place after he moved in, taking on a room at a time, starting with this living room. It looked light and inviting, as did the rest of the house. The windows seemed larger somehow, and the pale wooden floors combined with lots of white and soft grey tones gave the whole house a fresh, welcoming feeling. It was unrecognisable from the dark and gloomy Black residence it had once been.

Hermione sat down on the smaller of the two sofas as Harry remained standing. Hermione felt sure his pose was meant to be casual, one elbow resting on the mantelpiece. But even if Hermione hadn't known Harry as well as she did, the anxious tapping of his foot would have been a dead giveaway.

Harry didn't react as Kreacher popped in and out with some tea and biscuits, but Hermione accepted them gratefully and poured them both a cup. She waited, sipping her tea and eyeing her friend patiently. It only took a couple of minutes before Harry gave up with an exasperated sigh and broke the silence.

'Look Hermione, I understand why you're here. I know you've talked to Draco, that he's been staying at Octavio House. I can guess at what he must have told you and I admit that I've been expecting you to come and talk to me before now. Why haven't you by the way?' he asked, temporarily distracted.

'I didn't have his permission before. I do now,' Hermione stated simply.

She looked at her friend and knew she had done the right thing in coming here. As much as he might protest, she could tell at first glance that in fact Harry did want to talk.

'Harry,' she said, trying to make her voice soft and free of reproach, 'why didn't you ever talk to me about Draco?'

Harry looked so wary as he stood there, more so as he raked a hand through his already messy mop of hair. Hermione's heart ached as she watched him, her determination growing that she would resolve this, whatever had gone wrong between Draco and her friend. Not just for Draco's sake, but for Harry's as well. It was plain to see he was suffering from whatever had happened, perhaps as severely as Draco was.

'I wouldn't have known what to say Hermione. Draco and I… it's crazy is what it is,' Harry said, shrugging helplessly.

'Will you try?' Hermione asked. 'I mean, will you try now? Talking to me?'

Harry closed his eyes and sighed.

'Alright. I'll try,' he said softly.

He stepped back from the mantelpiece and collapsed into the sofa opposite Hermione. He kicked off his boots and folded his legs up underneath him.

'So I guess Draco told you about how we got together after the Battle of Hogwarts?' Harry asked. At Hermione's nod he continued: 'It was wonderful, at first. When it was just the two of us. I'm sorry I never said anything back then, but he was such a git to you and Ron… I didn't think you'd understand'.

Hermione thought for a moment. Would she have understood back then? Would Ron have? Harry was right, Draco had been a prat to all of them in the past. Of course, Hermione knew Draco had changed since then, she had got to know him again and grown quite fond of him. But back then, would she have been as forgiving? As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't think so.

She admitted as much to Harry. Harry smiled at her gratefully before continuing.

'I would have told you and Ron eventually Hermione, I promise you I would have. But most of the time Draco and I were together, you and Ron were visiting your parents in Australia. Remember? And by the time the two of you got back, well, Lucius Malfoy had managed to spoil everything with his spiteful lies and innuendo'.

Harry's mouth tightened in an angry line after those last words.

'Yes,' Hermione said, 'Draco said something about that. Tell me, what exactly did Lucius say to you?'

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes wearily. When he pushed his glasses back on, he looked at Hermione and said: 'Lucius Malfoy said a lot of things, I don't think Draco knows the half of it. He's good you know, really good'.

Harry gave a bitter laugh before continuing.

'That bastard has a gift, I'll give him that. Knows just what buttons to push, mine and Draco's. He started by telling me that Draco was used to getting his way, no matter what the cost. I laughed in his face and told him I couldn't have spent six years at Hogwarts with his son and not know that. The smile Lucius gave at that was so smug it was sickening. He wasn't finished with me yet that smile told me. And he wasn't'.

Hermione looked at her friend as he told her the gist of what Lucius had said. That Draco had what Lucius called a more than healthy imagination. That the Veela blood had been diluted along the family line so much, that there was no way that Draco had any of the Veela traits beyond a pleasing physical appearance and a bit of allure.

'"But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you Mr Potter," Lucius said to me. "Isn't that exactly how my son managed to ensnare you in the first place? Don't worry Mr Potter, you weren't the first and you certainly won't be the last. I'm afraid Draco has rather a promiscuous nature".'

'Lucius pretended to look thoughtful for a moment before adding: "Or perhaps you do not object to such things? I know Miss Parkinson and Mr Zabini never minded, but I just assumed you wouldn't want to share. I took you for more of a family man Mr Potter, but perhaps I was mistaken?"'

'He struck a nerve, I can't deny that he did,' Harry admitted. He shifted around on the sofa restlessly, punched at the cushions before settling back.

'I did try and talk about this with Draco, really I did. But you know me Hermione, I'm no good with words'.

'So what happened?' Hermione asked.

Harry sighed.

'As I said, I did try and talk to him. But I couldn't make him understand. He asked me how I could doubt our feelings, the way we were bonded… Didn't I feel it was true? I told him of course I did, I did. But still…'

'Draco didn't understand why it bothered me so much that he'd been with other people. He said that was before, before we got together, that it didn't matter. But it mattered to me'.

Those last words were spoken so softly that Hermione almost didn't catch them.

'We tiptoed around each other for about a week after that. Until things exploded'.

'Exploded? Exploded how?' Hermione asked. She leaned closer, guessing this was the part Draco had been unable to tell.

'We had just had dinner and Draco took my hand to escort me from the table. I enjoyed it at first, enjoyed the care and attention that the little gesture spoke of to me. But then suddenly I pictured him doing the same thing for Zabini, for Parkinson, for Merlin knew how many others. And I snapped'.

'I lashed out at him, threw everything at him that I had stifled before. I demanded to know exactly how many men and women he'd been with, if he tricked any of them into being with him with his allure, if he'd tricked me. I could tell my demands and accusations were painful to him, but instead of trying to make it better, I went ahead and made it worse'.

Harry didn't seem able to remain seated, so he launched himself off the sofa and started pacing in small circles around the room. Hermione let him.

'It wasn't just the things Lucius said to me anymore. I threw Draco's actions at Hogwarts back in his face, called him on hurting you by calling you names, Ron almost dying because of him, and Dumbledore…'

Harry stopped pacing abruptly.

'I shouldn't have done that. I really shouldn't have. I mean, he did do some pretty awful things, but I knew he had just been scared, felt like he had no choice. I also knew he regretted it and had been punishing himself because of it. And then when I mentioned Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets… Draco lost it'.

'He accused me of trying to find excuses to abandon him so I could go and be with Ginny and marry into the Weasley family. Wasn't that what I had always wanted? That struck a chord with me, and I hesitated a moment too long'.

As Harry faced Hermione, she could see the tormented look on his face.

'I swear I wasn't considering going back to Ginny, Hermione, of course I wasn't. It's just that when he put it like that, I think that was the first time I realised that that had been the main reason I had ever taken up with her. I had to think about that. But Merlin was it bad timing'.

'Draco started crying, wouldn't listen to me when I tried to explain. He told me to get away from him, but then pulled me close. Told me that he hated me, but then kissed me and held me and cried on my shoulder'.

'I felt helpless, seeing him go through that whirlwind of mixed emotions as I experienced the same. I wanted to be with him so much I felt like it was stifling me, that I couldn't breathe. I had to get away, simply had to. So I left'.

'That was it? You just left?' Hermione asked, not managing to keep the incredulity from her voice.

'But how could you…' she tried. She had to clear her throat and try again.

'How could you just leave like that and never see him again? I don't understand,' she said.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and blinked.

'What do you mean never see him again?' he asked. 'Is that what Draco told you?'

Hermione looked at her friend in shock. That was what Draco had said, wasn't it? Her thoughts raced, trying to remember every detail of their conversation. Oh. Well.

'I guess he didn't literally say that, no…' Hermione admitted reluctantly. 'But I'm pretty sure that's what he implied. You're not seriously telling me… You've not been with Draco this entire time, have you?'

Even before Harry shook his head, she knew that couldn't be it. Not with how miserable both Draco and Harry seemed, and not without her noticing at least something over the years. It was bad enough, seeing how oblivious she'd been about the history between Harry and Draco. But for them to have been in a relationship all this time… No, that just wasn't possible.

'Not that, no,' Harry was quick to assure her. 'Like I said, this thing between Draco and I, it's hard to put a definition on it, you know? We're not together, not since that time we spent at the Manor. But we've… seen each other on occasion. Draco said we had to, because of the bond, and I… well'.

Harry smiled sheepishly and finished: 'I suppose I never could stay away from Draco Malfoy now could I'.

No, Hermione thought that was pretty accurate. Even when they detested each other back in Hogwarts, Harry had always been drawn to Draco like glue, stalking him all around the Castle and grounds. She shook her head at herself warily. If only she'd had the training then that she had now, she surely would have recognised what the obsession between those two was or what it potentially could grow into.

'So you did keep in contact then?' Hermione asked, wanting to get her facts straight.

Harry nodded.

'Not much, or not as much as I would have liked anyway,' he admitted.

'But didn't you ever try and sort things out, try to resolve your issues and see if you could be together, be happy again?'

Harry moved to the large window and leaned against it, his right hand and forehead pressed against the glass. Hermione's heart gave a little pang as she remembered Draco standing in exactly the same pose earlier that day.

'Of course we did. It hadn't been an hour after I left before regret kicked in. I knew I'd made a mistake, knew this thing between us was much too precious to toss away for anything. I turned on my heels and tried to apparate back. But by then, Draco had already changed the wards and I couldn't get in. Not by floo either, believe me I tried. I only gave up after I received an oddly formal owl from Draco, informing me that if I wouldn't stay with him at the Manor, then he couldn't bear to live there either. The letter said he'd gone to Europe to think, and he'd be in touch soon'.

'He stayed away longer than I'd thought he would. I sent him several owls, but he never replied. When he finally turned up on my doorstep in early March, I was so relieved that I didn't ask many questions at first. I just reached out to him and almost cried in relief when he grasped my hands and pulled me close'.

Hermione could see Harry's mind drifting back, reliving whatever had happened that day.

'It wasn't until we started talking that things turned sour. I asked him why he never returned my owls, but he said he never got them. He said he had sent me an owl every day, but never got any reply. He was confused, didn't understand how none of our owls could have reached the other. I on the other hand understood well enough…'

Hermione snorted. Yeah, that didn't seem like much of a mystery. She could recognise Lucius' hand in this blindfolded. He must have intercepted their owls somehow in the hope of keeping Harry away from his son.

'Draco got defensive when I mentioned the possibility of his father disrupting our correspondence. Said his father wouldn't do that. I pointed out the many, many things Lucius Malfoy had already stooped to. That might not have been the smartest move'.

He pushed himself away from the glass and faced Hermione.

'I mean, you and I know that Lucius Malfoy is a right old bastard. But Draco… well he's his father, isn't he. I guess it's hard to be rational when it comes to family'.

'Anyway, even though I didn't mean to, that led to Draco accusing me of hating Lucius because of what he did to Ginny, with Tom Riddle's diary. I told him he was being ridiculous, that if I wanted to be with Ginny, I'd be with Ginny. Not surprisingly, he didn't take kindly to me calling him ridiculous. We had a huge fight, in the middle of which he stormed off, and it was a month before I heard from him again'.

'He came to see you?' Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head.

'No, he owled me. And this time I got the letter'.

Harry walked over to the large cabinet at the back of the room and pulled open the top drawer.

'These are just a few of his letters,' Harry said, showing Hermione at least a dozen scrolls, carefully tied together with white ribbon. 'He's a wonderful writer you see. I've kept every one of his letters'.

Harry absentmindedly caressed the parchment, apparently lost in thought.

'We don't fight in writing. But in person, well…'

Harry carefully placed the scrolls back in the drawer and pushed it shut.

'We've had some wonderful moments together. When he touches me, when we're together…' Harry sighed. 'I don't know Hermione, but in those moments it feels perfect and I can't for the life of me think of why we aren't together. But then morning comes and it's no longer just the two of us'.

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked.

'Lucius fucking Malfoy, that's who I'm talking about,' Harry said, his voice rising in anger.

Hermione felt confused.

'I'm sorry, are you saying that Lucius Malfoy is there with you and Draco, actually there?' she asked, in hopes of clarifying the situation.

Harry gave her a wry smile and said: 'Well, only that one time. But no, that wasn't what I meant'.

'He floos me sometimes you know, Lucius does,' Harry said. He sat himself down on the sofa next to Hermione and stared at the fireplace. 'Or he did that first year, several times, before I closed the floo on him. He kept telling me how Draco didn't miss me when we were apart. Said Draco flirted with other wizards and witches all the time. That he could have his pick of any one of them, that they all follow him around wherever he goes'.

Hermione could well believe that last part. After all, she had seen how her own staff fawned over Draco and even she herself wasn't completely immune. But had she even once seen Draco crossing the line? Now that she thought about it, she didn't believe Draco was being purposely flirtatious. He just had an effect on people, that was true enough. But she'd not seen him take advantage like he could have if he had been so inclined. She said as much to Harry.

Harry didn't avert his eyes from the fireplace as he replied: 'I know Hermione, I know. But that doesn't mean I have to like it'.

Hermione tried to imagine people drooling over Ron, vying for his attention as she'd seen happening around Draco. No. No she certainly wouldn't appreciate that either.

'Lucius still sends me owls every now and again. In fact, he sent me one last Friday. And even though I've Incendio'd every single message he ever sent me without opening them, they still get to me'.

Harry half turned to face her and said: 'I hate the way I let him get to me'.

Harry looked so conflicted as he said that, that Hermione pulled him into a fierce hug. He stiffened for a moment, but then he allowed it. He let out a shaky breath and Hermione felt him let go of some of the tension he'd been harbouring.

'Have you talked about this with Draco?' Hermione asked.

Harry sighed.

'I've learned not to mention Lucius Malfoy's name around Draco. We only get in an argument if I do. But not talking about him… well that's just like ignoring the big fat Hippogriff in the room, isn't it'.

Harry pulled back from their embrace and eyed her warily.

'I'm fucked if I do, fucked if I don't really. I know this can't go on, have known it for a while now. But what am I supposed to do? I can't make Draco choose between his father and me. It wouldn't be right. But I can't accept the way things are right now either, I really can't. And I don't think Draco can either'.

'I think you're right,' Hermione said softly.

They both took a moment to let things sink in. Hermione remembered what Draco had said to her earlier today. She was worried about him, genuinely afraid of what Draco might do if Harry pulled back from him permanently. And Harry, well, he didn't seem much better. She'd always known her friend wasn't truly happy, that something was missing from his life. Of course she'd had no idea that that something was actually one Draco Malfoy.

Merlin it all made sense to her now. She had often wondered about Harry's love life, thought perhaps he was involved with a married man, someone afraid to come out as gay maybe. She had tried to talk to her friend about it, but he had never allowed it.

'Thank you for talking to me now,' Hermione said, meaning it.

Harry laughed.

'Well yeah,' he said. 'It's hard for me Hermione, you know that. I'm sorry for not talking to you before. Truth be told, I'm only talking to you now because I don't know what to do and I need you to tell me. Please Hermione, tell me what to do?'

Hermione felt her throat constrict. She had to struggle to get the words out.

'I… I can't do that Harry. Not that. You must understand that'.

Harry seemed to deflate in front of her eyes. Hermione's heart ached for him as she continued: 'You'll have to make up your own mind. This is not a decision anyone can make for you'.

Harry gave her a sharp look.

'You think I should confront Draco with what Lucius has been doing behind his back, don't you', he stated.

Hermione didn't reply.

'You think I should talk to him, as long as it takes, until he accepts the truth, force him to make a decision one way or the other,' he continued, looking at her accusingly. 'You believe that father or not, Draco would be better off without him around. That Draco isn't well and that his father has a lot to do with that. That's what you think, isn't it?'

Harry glared at her, his words tumbling out one after the other.

Hermione cleared her throat.

'Is that what I think?' she asked. 'Or is that what you think?'

Harry looked at her as if she had struck him in the face.

'You should probably think about that,' she continued, her voice painstakingly neutral.

Deciding that was as much as she could do for the moment, Hermione got up and made to leave the house. She turned back one more time to say: 'Only don't take too long eh?'

Then she made her way out of the door and apparated straight home.

xxx

'Our Harry and Draco Malfoy? That's seriously what you're telling me? Sodding Malfoy?'

Hermione rolled her eyes at her husband.

'Yes Ron, still talking about our Harry and Draco Malfoy. Well, Draco's Harry really. But close enough,' she said.

Honestly, this was quite amusing. Exasperating, but still amusing. She'd told Ron the whole story, how Draco became her patient and everything she'd found out since then. She wasn't sure if Ron had heard half of it, seeing as how the fact that Harry and Draco had been in this weird kind of relationship over the last ten years had him so baffled that she feared his mind had gone blank.

'Malfoy. And Harry. Our Harry. Who Draco calls his Harry…' Ron muttered. 'Blimey'.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and asked: 'Are you alright with this?'

'Blimey,' was all the response she got.

Hermione sighed and started to clear away their plates. They'd had dinner, or she had at least. Ron hadn't touched much of his food, a clear indication of just how rattled he was. She left his plate under a heating charm on the kitchen worktop and got herself a cup of coffee. She knew he'd get his appetite back later, just as soon as he had calmed down a bit.

It must have been at least fifteen minutes later that she heard the sound of footsteps heading toward the kitchen, followed by the noise of utensils being scraped over a plate. About ten minutes after that, Ron made his way into the living room clutching a cup of coffee and still looking a bit pale.

'Hey,' he said, giving her a lopsided smile as he sank down on the sofa beside her.

'Hey yourself,' Hermione gave back. She eyed her husband critically.

'So. Are you alright?' she asked.

'Yeah. Yeah I am now,' Ron answered. 'It was just a bit of a shock, that's all. So Harry likes Malfoy… I suppose that's ok'.

Hermione snorted.

Ron threw her a wounded look and said: 'Oi, none of that. You've had a lot longer to get used to this than I have. I think I'm doing alright actually'.

Hermione gave Ron a warm smile and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

'Yes you are,' she said. 'Come to bed?'

Ron gave her a puzzled look.

'But it's only nine. Don't you have some work to finish or something?'

'No work tonight,' she said, sounding determined. 'In fact, no more working nights at all from now on'.

'Reaaaally…' Ron said, looking pleased. 'Good for you. I think you're wasted on that place anyway. You could do that job with your eyes closed'.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment. What Ron had just said, she only now realised that that was exactly how she felt about Octavio House. The place had been good for her and she for it. But yes, perhaps it was time to make a clean break. Try her hand at something new. Find a fresh challenge to dig herself into. But first…

'You can be very perceptive at times, you know that?' she said, crawling closer to her husband as she spoke. 'But then at other times… not so much'.

She wrapped her arms around Ron and kissed him, slowly, deeply. When he pulled back, he looked flushed, his eyes wide and his mouth soft from their kiss.

'I think I'm getting the picture now,' he said thoughtfully. 'What do you think about going to bed early tonight?'

Hermione laughed while she stood up and pulled Ron up by his hand.

'I'd say that's an excellent thought Ronald. I only wish I had thought of it'.

xxx

For the third time that night, Hermione checked the alarm clock on the bedside table. Nearly half past three. Excellent. Hermione sighed, turned on her back and closed her eyes.

Going to bed early had seemed like such a good idea. Now, not so much. She'd managed a couple of hours of sleep at least, but for the last hour or so, she'd been wide awake. And of course, she couldn't stop racking her brain about what to do about the "Harry and Draco situation". Because let's face it, if Harry and Draco hadn't been able to figure this thing out so far, what were the chances of them achieving it without her help now? They'd had ten years for Merlin's sake…

She'd been thinking so hard, she was almost surprised her rattling brain hadn't managed to disturb Ron in his near comatose state. But no, the snoring next to her went on without interruption.

She kept going over everything both Draco and Harry had told her, about Lucius, about Ginny, about the Manor…

All of a sudden, a thought struck her. What if… She bolted upright and held her breath. Could this work? It had to, she decided.

Within minutes, she had shaken Ron awake, shouting his name in his ear until she felt sure he wouldn't just drift off to sleep again.

'What?' Ron complained, sounding very disgruntled.

'Get up,' she said in her "don't mess with me" tone. 'I need you to go and see Harry'.

'What, now? But it's the middle of the night!' Ron complained.

'Nonsense,' she scoffed. 'The sun will be up in a little over an hour. Now get your lazy arse out of bed and into the shower. I'll use the one in the guest room'.

'You've gone mad, you have,' Ron muttered. 'I think that Malfoy's rubbed off on you'.

Hermione laughed happily.

'Yeah,' she admitted freely. 'I think perhaps he has'

xxx

'Draco? Come on Draco, wake up,' Hermione urged quietly.

She hadn't permitted herself to think too much of what she was about to do, but as she was kneeling beside Draco's bed, trying to rouse him, she had to fight down her doubts.

Was she doing the right thing? Perhaps she'd only make things worse, and then where would they all be…

'Hermione?' Draco asked sleepily. 'What is going on? Have I missed our appointment?'

Hermione swallowed. She'd come this far, might as well see it through now. And how much worse could it get anyway. No, she thought, scratch that. I definitely don't want to find out the answer to that one.

'Draco… What are your feelings toward your father?' she asked, not giving herself any more time to think about it and start doubting herself again.

Draco sat up and blinked at her.

'I say, this is highly irregular. Is this meant to be some sort of bedside session?'

He looked at her uncertainly.

Hermione shook her head and said: 'No, no it's not. But will you answer my question? Please, it's very important'.

Draco carefully pushed his sheets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Hermione marvelled at how different he looked, in very fancy but still quite ordinary striped pyjamas. She had got used to seeing him dressed in his formal Regency style clothes, and to see him dressed so casually now just seemed odd to her. And bare feet. She couldn't get over the bare feet. She only managed to tear her eyes away from those feet when Draco started speaking again.

'He is my father. He was always so good to me when I was a boy', Draco said, looking wistful. 'I loved him very much and I felt certain that he loved me equally. I do not know what changed. But something has Hermione. Something has irrevocably changed between us'.

Draco sighed heavily.

'I do not understand him. But perhaps more importantly, he does not understand me, nor does he try to. I feel I should not blame him for that, he was raised as a Malfoy to behave a certain way. To follow the rules of Pureblood history and society. He raised me to be the same. But I find that I cannot'.

Hermione didn't interrupt. She just gave an encouraging little smile and a nod, urging Draco to continue. Draco smiled back gratefully and continued: 'I attempted to be the man Father wanted me to be. But I fear I can never be that man. And lately, I have found that perhaps I do not wish to be'.

'I cannot forgive Father for making me doubt the depth of my Harry's feelings for me. I do not deny I have been vulnerable to his insinuations about Duchess Ginevra and my Harry in the past. I confess that it still troubles me to think of my Harry sharing any kind of significant past with her. But I have come to understand that it is not she that stands between my Harry and I'.

'Good. Good,' Hermione said, scrambling to her feet. 'I need you to get up now Draco, we need to go'.

'Go? Now? But where?' Draco asked, sounding very puzzled indeed.

'To the Manor of course. Come on, up you get!' she said, pulling Draco up as she had her husband earlier that morning.

'What? No Hermione…' Draco said, shaking his head as he stepped back from her. He looked so pale and vulnerable, frightened almost. 'I have vowed never to enter that place without my Harry ever again'.

He had looked pained as he had spoken those last words, but Hermione wasn't to be deterred.

'Then let's get you dressed and we'll be off to Wiltshire', she said firmly.

'Are you saying… that is to say… Lady Hermione, please do not toy with me. Are you implying that my Harry will be there?'

'Yes he will,' she said decisively.

Don't let me down Harry, she prayed silently. Don't you dare let us down.

xxx

I can feel the fast, erratic beat of my heart so loudly that it drowns out every other sound as I walk up the familiar lane. It has been so long since I walked these lands, almost ten years ago now. So much time has passed, so many things have changed. But not here. Here, all remains the same.

I can see the gates looming up in the distance, to me perfectly visible, but I know to Lady Hermione they will be no more than a blur. I remember how I stood here all those years ago, speaking the words of the vow that would seal up the Manor for as long as it would take for me and Harry to reunite permanently. I had not thought then, that it would be this long.

Now, as I stand here, I am afraid to believe. Lady Hermione swore to me that my Harry would be there and as fervently as I wish this to be true, I dare not quite believe it.

'Go on,' Lady Hermione says, nudging me in the direction of the gates. 'He'll be there. I'm sure of it'.

I take a deep breath and start walking, afraid to look at anything but the gates. When I am a mere five feet away, I halt. If possible, my heart starts beating even faster, even louder. It feels as if my body is shaking with its force. I close my eyes and try to control my panting breaths, try to calm my heart and my mind, but it is to no avail.

'I am here,' I hear suddenly.

My eyes fly open and I look next to me.

Nothing. There is nothing. And just as I fear my heart will break one final time, I hear it again.

'I am here'.

I whip my head around, because I know now where the words are coming from. My Harry, he is here. I can feel him. I can hear him. And now, now I can see him.

He is walking down the hill, coming toward me as Lady Hermione and what must be her Mr Weasley watch him go. I take a moment, only one moment, to note that the tall, redheaded man standing on top of the hill has a protective arm wrapped around her shoulders. After that, I have eyes for no one but my Harry.

As he comes closer, he picks up his pace and I cannot stand still any longer. I go to him, open my arms to him, embrace him, welcome him.

'I'm here,' he says again, this time softly and close to my ear. 'I'll always come for you Draco. Always'.

I pull back, just a little, just far enough so I can look at him. His eyes are wet, but he smiles at me, a beautiful, beautiful smile. I had not realised that I was crying as well until he reaches out a hand and wipes a tear away from my cheek. I laugh, but I think maybe it comes out more like a sob. It does not matter. All that matters is that my Harry is here, that I am holding him as he holds me, that I kiss him and kiss him again, and again and…

I am breathless as I finally release him, still holding on to his hand. I will not let go. Not now. Not ever again.

I have to ask. I have to know.

'What changed your mind?'

'You did,' he says. 'And they did'.

He gestures toward where Lady Hermione and her husband must still be. I do not look to ascertain if that is so. Neither does he. Instead, he looks at me as if he will never look away from me again.

'What we have between us, that is what's real. And it's so much more than most people ever have. So much more than I ever thought I'd have. No one, not your father nor anyone else, is ever going to make me doubt that again '.

He hesitates a moment before he continues: 'I was afraid before. I was afraid to believe. I thought maybe there was no bond, that it was all in my head. Or that if there was a bond, that was why I felt so strongly for you, that the bond was like an artificial thing, keeping us together'.

'But now you believe'.

It is not a question. I can sense it, sense the change in him, the faith, the strength of his trust. My heart constricts painfully as I think of what we almost lost. I squeeze his hand, in need of the solid reassurance of his presence here, with me.

'When Ron came for me this morning, I asked him about Hermione. How he knew that she was the one for him'.

'What did he say?' I ask, finding myself intrigued to know what Mr Weasley's answer had been.

'He said he just knew. That he felt it. That he knew it,' Harry says. 'That things, life, everything would always be better with her around. And he asked me if I felt the same about you'.

'What did you tell him?' I ask, my heart once again beating in my throat.

'I told him to hurry up and make me some coffee. I told him that I needed to get ready promptly because I couldn't stand to be away from the man I love for one moment longer'.

I have to wait for any further explanations, as he leans in and kisses me once more. I do not mind the wait. I do not mind at all.

When our lips separate, I do not step back. Instead, I lean my forehead against his and whisper: 'Shall we go in?'

'Yes. Please,' is his simple reply.

I take his right hand and press a kiss against his palm. I then press both our hands on the Malfoy crest, the one just above the second bolt from the top, and the gates swing open. He makes to pull away his hand, but I keep it pressed against the crest for a moment longer.

I wait for him to look at me and say: 'These gates will open for no one but you and I from now on. They will not allow entrance to anyone who bears either of us ill will. Not if they are our enemies, friends or even family. As head of the Malfoy family, I say it will be so'.

The Malfoy crest glows for a moment, recognising and accepting the vow of the current head of the Malfoy family.

I find my heartbeat has sped up in my anxiety. Does my Harry understand? Did he hear me lay emphasis on the word family just now? Does he realise that, as much as I have been raised to respect family, he is my family now? And that if it is a choice between Father or my Harry, it will always, always be my Harry that I choose? That I have made that choice by coming here today, irrevocably so?

He laughs breathlessly and I join him. I can feel his wonder, his acceptance, the love he feels for me and I know he can feel mine.

We do not speak as we take those first steps on the Malfoy grounds. I feel the ancient magic reach out to me and I embrace it. I laugh again as I see my Harry's eyes widen in wonder as the magic reaches out to him as well.

'This is our home now. Yours as well as mine,' I explain to him. 'Or one of our homes if you like?'

I look at him searchingly. This is my home, it always has been, but I have found that to be meaningless if he is not with me. My home is with him now and I tell him as much.

He smiles at me and says: 'Give it time. We'll figure it out. We'll figure all of it out. We have time now'.

No more words are needed. Not right now. He knows that I will no longer allow Father to have any influence over me whatsoever. I know he is mine now as I am his. And all the rest… well, we have the rest of our lives to find every answer we will ever need.

I take my Harry by the shoulders and slowly turn him until we are both facing east. I stand behind him and slide my arms around his waist. He leans into the embrace, pressing his back against my chest.

We watch as the sun rises, illuminating the Manor and its grounds as if bringing them back to life. Later, we will go into the house and make it our own. I will take him to bed, will love him, make love to him until he cries with pleasure.

Afterwards, I will hold him. I will talk to him, really talk to him, as he will to me.

But not right now. Right now, we watch as night becomes day. We witness the sun chase away the darkness around us and allow it to envelop us in warmth and light.

This is a good day. And there will be many good days after this one.

xxx