Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling.

I seldom think about my limitations, and they never make me sad.
Perhaps there is just a touch of yearning at times; but it is vague, like a breeze among flowers.
-Helen Keller

Draco paced at the front of the conference room. Every time the door opened, he looked up once, quickly, and looked back down to the floor. He continued to pace.

"Malfoy, please stop that. You're making my people nervous."

He cast a scowl at George. "This isn't my fault, Weasley. We should have started fifteen minutes ago. It's your meeting, after all. Why aren't you more upset?"

"Because I trust Hermione. She'll show up- I told you, I asked her to run a special errand this morning. She's probably on her way as we speak." The redhead stared at him calmly and Draco went back to his pacing with a derisive snort. If he'd looked closer, the nervous twitching of exactly one of George's thumbs might have tipped him off that the other man was lying. Fortunately for George, Draco was mightily distracted.

Whatever George said, it wasn't entirely untrue. He did trust Hermione to pull through and he knew perfectly well that she would probably come bursting in with coffee and a box of some kind of breakfast bread- or fruit- to make up for it. She wasn't late often, but he understood, unlike some men, that having a child often put more strain on the wife than the husband. Little Viola was what- four, now? And probably a little tartar like her father had been. Although, he reminisced, she was always perfectly sweet to her Uncle George. In fact, she was generally well behaved. He decided he was being unfair to Harry. Most of the trouble Harry had gotten into as a boy had occurred because, well, it was his bleeding destiny. Trouble couldn't really be helped when that was the case.

He looked back to his fellow department Head and frowned lightly.

"Malfoy, if you don't stop pacing, I will personally tie you up."

The other man flashed him a wicked grin. "I'd like to see you try," he said glibly, but sat down anyway. Smith came up to him and handed him some papers. They spoke softly for some minutes and George wished desperately that Hermione would come bursting in. If anyone made him nervous, it was Malfoy. He'd worked with the man more than once, of course, and they always made a good job of it; but he had to admit that it was unseemly for the man to so easily take over any situation. True, he didn't make biting remarks or start unnecessary arguments anymore; he really was most professional about his work and almost everyone who didn't hate his guts- and even some who did- thought he was generally, if not a pleasure to work with, competent and efficient. Not unlike his own second in command, Hermione Potter.

Thinking of her name made him pause and review his conversation with Malfoy the past night- dawn. Whatever. The man had mistakenly called her Granger. It amused him, to a certain degree. It was perfectly natural, he presumed, that it would be difficult to remember to call someone one had known as one name for so long by her married name, but it still niggled in his mind. Wasn't Hermione always barging into his own office, complaining about Malfoy? He knew the fellow called her that to her face: he got an earful about Malfoy's mistakes every time she came back from some delivery or meeting with him. Not that he didn't return the favor every time Smith came to visit him. Ugh, the man simply creeped him out. Then again, cowards generally did. And whatever horrid things Malfoy had done in the war, turning into a regular Benedict Arnold midway through the war was not cowardly. Stupid, perhaps, but not cowardly.

He was about to try the motherhood explanation to soften Malfoy up a bit when Hermione came walking in the door, a box of fruits hovering in before her and several coffees balanced in her still tiny hands. He stifled a laugh and stood up to retrieve some of the packages. A bag of what could only be breakfast breads floated in after her and she kicked the door shut before depositing the remaining packages on a side table. George cast a surreptitious glance backwards at Malfoy, who was still deep in conversation with Smith. He sidled up to Hermione.

"Trouble getting out of the house this morning?" he murmured out of the side of his mouth as he helped hand out donuts and plates to various people from both departments.

Hermione smiled weakly at him. "I'm so sorry, George. Has he been at your throat awfully?" she asked, with a toss of her head in Malfoy's direction. She really didn't want to be discussing him this early in the morning, but she knew there was no way around it. Honestly, why the ministry ever thought it would be a good idea to hire him…

Logically, Hermione knew that he needed a job as well. She knew that he had turned coat during the war and provided valuable information for their side. The winning side. She knew that he had, in spite of the one terrible night she had spent in his manor, that he had, for all intents and purposes, changed. Inexorably, finally. He had grown up and matured into the man she had always wished for him to become. He had also forgotten about her. She'd always known he would…she just hadn't expected him to take a job at the ministry so he could torment her with his presence. Not that it was torture or anything; she didn't have to see him every day. Some weeks passed where she never saw him, aside from the occasional passing in the Ministry cafeteria.

She liked to think she was happy for him, honestly. After all, she had her own life now. A husband, a child, a career. She was content. Well content. If only he'd stop watching her with those cold grey eyes then maybe she'd be more than content, but for now she had to manage as best she could. Hermione was perfectly aware that he didn't know she saw him watching her. Sometimes she wasn't even sure he knew how much he stared. She'd first noticed it during her engagement to Harry.

Draco had only started work at the Ministry two years after she'd started work in her department; her assumption was that he'd been living off his family money for a while, until he needed a job, or, at the least, something to keep him busy. She'd been a little disgruntled to see him working there, but had managed to keep her mouth shut. After all, didn't everyone deserve a chance for rehabilitation? At any rate, she wouldn't have even realized Draco had started working at the Ministry if Harry hadn't mentioned it on a date one evening. He'd casually let drop that, "Malfoy got turned down for Auror today," and she had carefully controlled herself in response. Harry had never mentioned Draco to her, not once, after that time at his manor. Not even when Draco had joined their side and begun feeding them information had he brought him up. Hermione had known who the new source was, but Harry had gallantly been the only one of them to deal with him, to control himself, to take the brunt of Malfoy's dying bitterness against their side, against the choice he'd been forced to make.

Hermione never asked Harry about Draco and he never gave any information. She assumed Draco probably had to explain himself somehow, but she'd never know the story. The point was that he'd finally changed. Without her, the way she'd hoped. Except it was too late for them. She smirked a little at herself. What a ridiculous thought. It had been too late for them the moment they'd been born. At any rate, it wasn't until Harry brought him up that she realized they'd never spoken of him. For some reason it hadn't seemed so unusual. She'd asked him a question about it and Harry had explained the Draco had applied for the training school, but the Ministry didn't feel comfortable offering the job to a former death eater. This revelation had been followed by the second surprise she'd received on that date.

"I recommended him for a position in the new Muggle department they're forming instead."

She hadn't said anything to that, had just sat there in shock, gaping like a fish. Harry ahd smiled a little at her then and spread his hands out wide.

"They need new workers desperately and for as much as everyone now claims to have such love for muggles, they certainly have a hard time stomaching the idea of working in a department that concerns itself with them. I know you're terribly fond of your position, Hermione, but honestly…the bigotry that continues is worse than before in some ways. It's quieter now- there's a kind of reluctant charity at work and it's not very nice." He'd paused and quieted down a bit. "Malfoy seems repentant enough. It will be good for previous purists to work in a department like that. Keep them in line and realistic about the world. After all, we may have magic, but there are more muggles than wizards in the world- and they've invented some rather nasty weapons of their own. We only hurt ourselves by keeping ourselves locked away and operating under deceit and shadows."

It was the most Harry had said on the same subject in a long time and Hermione had sat back, contemplating it. She remembered very well some of the scares from the nineteen eighties…things like nuclear reactors blowing up and new developments in bio-warfare. Things that the wizarding community, for all its supposed greatness, had no protection against. Magic only went so far.

She had eyed him a bit more before pouring some more wine out.

"You know, Harry," she'd said in a grateful rush, "I think you're really quite wonderful."

He'd looked up at her in surprise and then blushed. Her sudden affirmation of her feelings for him had brought about her third surprise of the evening then- Harry had put his hand down in a pocket, fiddling with something, then pulled it back out quickly and set a little box on the table between them.

Hermione had only looked at it when she burst into tears. She'd reached for a napkin and blown her nose and begun laughing and crying at the same, hysterical time.

"Yes-!" she mumbled through the napkin over and over. Harry had stared at her in consternation.

"You haven't even opened it! I haven't asked anything yet!"

In response, she had only laughed more and pulled him across the table by the front of his robes to plant a solid kiss on his lips. The other people in the small café had clapped in an embarrassed manner.

Reflecting back on the evening now, she knew it wasn't what either of them had planned or expected. They had dated in school, sure, but after Dumbledore had been killed at the end of sixth year they had agreed that other things needed to be taken care of. After all, searching for Horcruxes was hard to do when you wanted to shag your partner constantly. They had only dated a semester, but it had been a nice semester. There had been no unruly demands (except over Malfoy), no fighting (except over Malfoy), and she had generally had a grand time with Harry. To be honest, she had been a bit hurt when he'd asked to call things off 'just until the war is over.' She'd known things wouldn't last that long. Feelings never did.

But then he'd been there after the war was over and they fell into their old ways- joking, lecturing, spending time together. It wasn't until she received an earful from Neville about Harry sitting on his couch in the middle of the night, bemoaning that Hermione didn't love him anymore, and would she please come to her senses because he had a wife to get back to, honestly!- that she realized what was going on. And so things had gone on- not quite back to normal, because they never could, but almost like the old days. There were some things that war could not change about them.

So they'd gotten engaged and that was when Hermione began to notice Draco more often. He watched her, but it was about all he did, aside from calling her 'Granger' and being insufferably cold to her every time she was forced to go to his office. At first she'd wondered if he still harbored a grudge from all those years ago in school, but the idea was preposterous. She had to give him some credit, though. He never spoke to her unless he had to and never crossed her path unless the other side of the hall was full. Then she'd gotten married and the surveillance had stopped for a while. It didn't frighten her, per se, but it did bother her somewhat, so when he'd stopped she'd been pleased more than anything else. Certainly not disappointed. After all, she'd read in the paper that he'd gotten married two years ago and reportedly already had a bouncing baby boy. She struggled now to remember the name…ah well, it didn't matter. He was married and so was she. That was all that mattered.

Until he'd begun watching her again.

It had been a little unnerving the first time he'd done it; now it was just creepy. He'd started up again when she'd gotten pregnant (so Ginny told her) and the looks had grown increasingly perplexed. It wasn't until she'd seen a look of pure consternation on his face as he sat across from her at a meeting that she'd decided to do something about it. She'd written him a note and left it for him on his desk. A bit cowardly, she knew, but she really had no desire to speak to him ever again if she could help it.

The watching had stopped, she'd thought. Or perhaps it was just that she'd gotten so wrapped up in her life that she'd stopped caring or noticing.

At any rate, she noticed it again now. He was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he spoke with Smith. It was not a very kind look. She furrowed her brow and turned away to finish looking over her notes. George had satiated everyone in the room with food and drink and was standing quietly at the front of the room waiting for people to finish taking their seats.

She hurried over to him and took a seat beside him. Malfoy turned and took the seat on the other side of him and Smith sat one down from that. Though she could tell he was still watching her, she ignored him and stared straight ahead.

George looked down to the right and left of him and sighed. Honestly, was he going to have to keep peace again? They were so much alike- such bright and hard workers, but really. It was infuriating, the way Malfoy made cow eyes at a married woman who went about acting like a hurt puppy all the time. He resolved to speak to them both. After the meeting. Clearing his throat, he began.

"Welcome to our last minute meeting this morning- I trust you all got your owls?" A nod circled the table and he smiled. "Good. I'm afraid we have some mundane business to take care of today and in the following weeks…," he looked about the table at the tired faces and grimaced inwardly. Oh, how he hated Percy then for making him take a soft line with the issue. Still, it was better than a panic, or, worse, ignorance. He chided himself silently and then turned to the board behind him and began hanging up the pictures and reports.

To mofo: Thanks! I love you, too. ;) I have some exciting things planned for this story, so be prepared. :)

To Deanna: Thank you! He is rather adorable, isn't he?