A/N- UPDATES SHOULD COME EVERY SUNDAY. UNLESS I CHANGE MY MIND. OR DON'T FEEL LIKE IT. OR HAVE AN EXAM. OR ONE OF MY FRIENDS HAVE DRAMA AND DECIDES TO SOB ON MY SHOULDER (S?) OR I GET SICK- IF I GET SICK FORGET IT. MAYBE (?) NOT SURE. COLD, OK, BUT SINUS INFECTION, THERE IS NO CHANCE. THAT SAID, BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY, EVEN THOUGH I DON'T KNOW YOU, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NEVER AND WILL NEVER MEET YOU- I LOVE YOU.

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Hermione closed the door very softly, and smiled to herself when she checked the hallway and found that it was Mint free. 17, 16- the man had finally stopped his flow of polite meaningless words, 15, 14- the woman was still screaming at a sleeping god, 13, 12- elevator.

Do I take the elevator? Is it safe? Is the voice still- you know… in there?

In retrospect, it was one of those moments, when you could either take control of your life, or you could hide. Hide and become a coward, a craven parasite on life, the old cow.

Hermione saw a Minty look-alike eyeing her curiously and she screwed her courage to the sticking place.

'Hi could you please show where the stairs are?' And she silently raised her arm, finger pointing incontrovertibly to the Exit sign. It was all I needed.

Harry Potter, Lord of All He Surveys, looked only slightly discomfited at my appearance at his table, where he sat with the Weasel- Mr. Weasley and Ms. Weaseley- or was it Mrs. Potter yet? Wait- it must be, they had a son, I think, yes. A son, I saw him, just as Potter saw my own.

'Mr. Potter, felicitations are due.' I tried to be informal. I failed.

Potter smirked a little, but not maliciously- it was with something I didn't want to define, something close to pity.

'Hello, Draco. How are you?'

I was a little shocked, and saw the same emotion in Weaseley's face, or rather his hands, which had just know clenched around his knife and fork. Heathen.

'Fine, thank you. I came on behalf of my escort this evening, Ms. Sophia Laurent, who is the owner of this establishment and wishes to convey her warmest welcomes. She is at my table, but slightly indisposed- thus I am your messenger.' A lie. I just needed to talk long enough for someone to take a photograph, which would surely end up in tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

Wait for it, wait for it- and good. A small blonde at a table near the kitchen had gotten a camera out of her ridiculously large purse (sack?) and sure enough a flash went off. Mission Accomplished.

'As I do not wish to detain you, I bid you adieu.' I reached my hand toward Potter. He stared.

Slowly his hand met mine and we shook. A second flash went off. Excellent. Mother would be pleased.

'Goodbye Malfoy.' There was a small strangled hop in the back of Potter's eyes. I smiled in a most genuine fashion and turned on my heel, striding back to the table.

Mother's eyes met mine, and I nodded. She let a small, quick smile slip out for a second.

Father only gazed at the tablecloth. It was as much as we could expect, for now.

Of course Sophia was first to speak. I hated the way she rolled her R's. 'Drrraco! What was that all about? What was he like? Can you maybe introduce us?' Idiot.

'Sophia, darling, he's a trifle indisposed at the moment.'

I was going to drop her before the night was through.

I made quick steps to a convenient clump of trees near the facility. Supposedly, these were the 'woods' that put the woods in Woody Brooks Facility for the Clinically Unwell. The brochure was much nicer.

I apparated back to my flat, a flat a convenient distance from the Weasley's. A flat that Ron once inhabited. I couldn't think about this , couldn't think about-Ronald, you mean? How he was your one chance of being worthwhile, of being normal, and how the two of you just faded away, like a memory, like a pipedream. Or is it that you don't want to think of Harry anymore, how he never calls?

It's not his fault, he's busy, he has a job, a wife, he has-

Children.

It hurt so bad. They were something I never even knew I wanted. But eleven years later, I knew the sharp empty ache of the childless woman. I would give so much to feel a child inside me, to watch it grow, to give birth. I would give so much for every nasty nappie, every stain, every muddy footprint, every weird and unidentifiable crayon drawing. Every argument. But there was no one. It was just me, alone, by myself. Me and one thousand old,old memories that had no substance, bleached out and worn with reuse.

I was alone.

I know you are. For once the voice was sympathetic.

I am always sympathetic. I just tell you what you don't want to hear.

It was too much. My flat was still an embodiment of Ron, and my stomach was so very flat and empty.

If you want to add to that list, you also need to be at Hogwarts with a Speech for the commemoration of the last Battle within the hour, Hermione. Holy shit!

And I know you haven't started.