A/N: If you've been following this tale from the beginning, please be advised that I've revised the entire story, added about 6k words to previous chapters and fixed several grammatical errors. No major changes to the plot, however! As such, this story is not beta-ed, so there are probably a few errors floating about.
….
Narcissa Malfoy was thoroughly vexed. Her blue eyes narrowed on the priceless vase which sat across the room on a pedestal, though in her mind she hurled it across the room. The sound of the shatter it made within her mind was exceptionally satisfying. Now if she could only bring herself to hurl the ugly ceramic piece into an actual wall, she might feel a bit better.
As it was, she was resigned to brooding within in the solitude of her private sitting room. The dinner party she planned to welcome her son back with open arms came and went one week ago. At least the Parkinson girl had sent a politely worded refusal, citing a previous engagement but ensuring her that Draco was well.
The elegant matriarch of the Malfoy family had almost resigned herself to hunting down her son herself and shoving one perfectly manicured finger in his face for his indignation in refusing her invitation when a tapping on the window pulled her from her thoughts.
"Oh, bother it all," the woman grumbled to herself as she rose from the gilded chaise lounge to intercept the non-descript post-owl bearing a letter. The handwriting on the outer envelope was unfamiliar and was therefore one of the many charities she donated to requesting aide.
With a sashay of her hips, Narcissa crossed the room and settled herself in front of the ancient oak writing desk and pulled a letter opener with a mother of pearl handle through the seam of the envelope.
With a derisive sign, Narcissa pulled the letter from the envelope and opened the folded parchment to read about whatever charity was requesting her aid this time. Except, it wasn't that at all.
Madam Malfoy,
Please excuse any perceived impertinence in my drafting a letter to you without us having been formally introduced. I understand such things are important within the circles in which you move and I apologize for my forwardness.
My name is Maya Garrett and I have been dating your son since January. It has come to my attention that a dinner invitation went unanswered and I would like to ensure you it was unintentional.
Your son and I have been slowly adjusting to our brief, albeit minimal, reintegration into wizarding society over the past two weeks and unfortunately, the dinner invitation was misplaced in the chaos of reuniting with my friends. In addition to this, your son, who works as a very well-respected healer (known as a doctor in the muggle world), has been working double shifts due to several unexpected changes at his place of employment. Because of these circumstances, Draco bid me write to you as I have more time to pen a letter than he, at the moment.
As neither of us are comfortable within wizarding society at this time, I respectfully request that you consider either extending another invitation to the pair of us or join us one morning for brunch at muggle establishment as neither of our flats are fit for entertaining, at the moment.
For the moment, Draco has dropped the untraceable charm in order for future post to find him should you choose to correspond.
Yours respectfully,
Maya J. Garrett
The nerve of the girl. What impertinence! Narcissa resisted the urge to crumple the letter and hurl it across the room in much the same way she had been thinking of lobbing the vase against a nearby wall minutes before.
How dare the chit think it proper to send her a letter indicating that any future invitations would be for the pair of them? With a surname like Garrett is was clear the girl was a half-blood at best. Narcissa's nose lifted to the air in a snobbish display, though there was no one around to see her.
It was lowered seconds later when her shoulders began to shake and large, fat tears fell unchecked from the corners of her eyes, splashing and marring the ink of the crisp parchment of the letter. Who was she to be so prejudiced against a girl she didn't even know? The shame she felt at her automatic reaction was jarring.
It wasn't as if her son was refusing to see her, circumstances had simply prevented him from corresponding. At least she knew that the Parkinson chit had kept up her end of the bargain and had given Draco the dinner invitation.
With Lucius' health not being what it once was, it wouldn't do for them to travel far and she wasn't certain exactly how far from Wiltshire her son and this… this girl he was courting lived. Therefore, she would swallow her injured pride and extend an invitation once more… to the pair of them. The way the girl penned her letter, it was clear that she and Draco came as a set and the likelihood of her getting her son alone was slim, especially if her son was as busy as this girl made it seem.
Yes, Narcissa would invite the pair of them and meet this girl. Her writing and penmanship indicated some level of intelligence and Narcissa highly doubted her son would find himself involved with little brains to speak of.
Honestly, she was delighted the girl was a witch and not a muggle.
Though what was Narcissa to think? From the letter, it seemed that both this girl and her son had absconded from the wizarding world. How many young people had made that foolish decision besides her son and the famous war heroine they still published articles about periodically. What was her name? Oh yes, Hermione Granger. How could Narcissa forget? The girl was tortured before her in the drawing room during the war by her own deranged sister no less and there wasn't a single thing she could've done to stop it.
Narcissa shuddered and pushed the thoughts of the war from her mind before taking hold of a delicate quill and penning a letter to her son.
….
"You've a letter from your mother." Hermione said from her place on Draco's sofa as the man walked in through the front door, immediately dropping the glamour charm over his features.
Hermione, who set her stack of marking aside with the green pen perfectly balanced on top of the stack, studied the wizard from beneath her blanket. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he looked about ready to drop from exhaustion. She instantly regretted that the first words she said to him were about his mother after seeing the fatigue so plainly written across his face.
With a frown, she popped up from the sofa and threw her arms around him, tucking herself up under his arms which immediately wrapped around her petite frame.
"Did you open it?" He asked with a yawn as he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.
Shaking her head, Hermione nuzzled her face against his chest before leading him over to the sofa. He collapsed down in a heap of lassitude and she knelt at his feet, carefully removing his shoes. "No, but I recognized her penmanship from the invitation."
"Do you mind?" He asked, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his brow.
With a shake of her head, Hermione smiled, "Not at all." She picked up his shoes and set them by the door before retrieving the letter and handing it to him. Sauntering into his kitchen, she retrieved a crystal tumbler and a glass of scotch before pouring him a finger or two of the amber liquid and handing it to him upon her return to the living room.
"You're an angel," he praised, his entire body relaxing as he sipped the scotch before allowing his eyes to return to the letter.
"Mm." Hermione hummed non-commitally before settling next to him on the sofa, pulling her blanket back over her.
Slipping his arm around her shoulders, Draco pulled Hermione into him where she immediately settled her head against his chest. "We're invited to brunch."
"Are you going to be able to find time for brunch?" She asked, honestly. These past two weeks had been brutal on Draco's sleep schedule, having to practically work two jobs until another surgeon could be hired. Even with the hospital referring patients elsewhere, he was still being worked to the bone.
"Sanderson hired someone who is supposed to start next week. She's from the States but comes highly recommended."
"Oh, thank goodness." Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. "You're not getting enough rest, Draco. I've even thought about finding an apothecary and sourcing a rejuvenation draught and a bottle or two of dreamless sleep."
"Oh, would you, love? I promise to love you forever." The relief permeating Draco's voice at the mere thought of a set of potions to ease his exhaustion made Hermione's heart ache. She was well and truly worried about him and if there was one thing the wizarding world did better than the muggle word it the diversity of the potions, salves, and tinctures available to treat things like fatigue.
"Forever is a long time." Hermione remarked absently.
"Would you be… agreeable to forever?" His voice was cautious as his hold on her tightened slightly as though she might flee at the implications of his words.
She didn't flee, but she stiffened. "Are you…?"
"No." Draco paused and buried his face into her hair, breathing in the familiar, calming scent." "But I might… someday."
"Oh." Her heart thrummed erratically and her chest and her entire body felt flushed at the implications of his words. "I might accept… someday," she whispered quietly.
The letter from his mother was discarded as Draco threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair, while the other still held the tumbler. He tilted her face to his and pressed his lips gently against hers in a sweet, almost reverent kiss which seemed seal the promise of someday.
….
Hermione pulled the small box from within her desk and stared at the contents. Vinewood with a Dragon Heartstring core. Ten and three-quarter inches. While she had briefly removed the very familiar wand from the box where it had resided for nearly ten years the night she confided in Draco, she had nearly immediately returned it to the small, rectangular box which was safely tucked away in her desk.
She felt the familiar hum of magic as she plucked it from the box, balancing it gracefully in her hand. The part of her aching to use her magic sighed happily, while the part of her which reminded her she didn't need it to be happy grumbled that she had retrieved the object.
She quickly transfigured a sundress into a set of robes and disguised her appearance with a glamour, turning her hair into a rather unfortunate shade of strawberry blonde. While she doubted anyone would recognize her, she wasn't above taking precautions to ensure she remained anonymous when she entered the Alley.
After seeing the state of Draco's health the previous evening, Hermione was determined to fetch the restorative potions necessary and the closest apothecary was in Diagon Alley, a place she hadn't been in nearly eleven years.
With a flick of her wrist, Hermione felt the familiar compression of apparition, landing neatly on her feet in a secluded corner of the Alley reserved for the comings and goings of witches and wizards. She quickly surveyed her surroundings and pulled a pair of large sunglasses over her eyes before stepping out of the apparition point and joining the crowds as they moved to and fro along the cobblestone paths.
She allowed herself a lingering glance towards Flourish and Blotts as she continued on her way towards Gringotts to change her pounds to galleons. Once that task was finished, she made her way straight to the apothecary without incident. Once inside, Hermione placed her order with the shop assistant and stood while she gathered the requisite potions.
She was surprised to see a faded poster with her photograph on it surrounded by the words Have You Seen This Witch? hung near one of the windows in the front of the shop.
"They still haven't found her, you know." The shop girl said as she carefully measured out several vials of the restorative draught.
"Perhaps she doesn't want to be found." Hermione replied, watching as her much younger self smiled for the camera. She didn't recognize where the photograph had been taken, but she couldn't be much older than twenty.
"Well, I for one hope she returns. It was such a tragedy when she disappeared. She was one of my idols when I was growing up, you know? Such a brave, clever witch. I practically begged the hat to put me in Gryffindor but it sent me to Hufflepuff instead."
The shop assistant placed the delicate vials in a wooden box containing straw before turning her attention to the next set of potions Hermione had ordered. "The Ministry was in such an uproar. I think Shacklebolt even tossed that horrible reporter in Azkaban under harassment charges."
"Rita Skeeter?" Hermione questioned, trying to appear only mildly interested, though her mind was reeling with questions.
"That's the one. I think she's still in there. Harry Potter lobbied pretty hard for new laws against what the press can and can't do. Sure, they're still allowed to report on the movement of celebrities and all, but they can't hound them the way they used to, you know?"
Hermione hummed, considering the shop assistant's words. If what she said were true, returning to the wizarding world might not be so bad, for her or Draco. It was certainly something to consider, though she wasn't entirely certain she wanted to return, though she had to admit the lure of Flourish and Blotts as well as the easy access to various potions were certainly positive factors for venturing into the Alley more often, even if she had to use another alias or glamor to conceal herself from curious eyes.
"Will that be all, miss?" The shop assistant asked as she handed Hermione her carefully wrapped package of potions in exchange for a handful of coins.
"Yes, thank you." Hermione said before taking her leave and exiting the shop. She quickly made her way through the throngs of witches and wizards to the apparition point and whisked herself away to the safety of her flat.
….
It was a beautiful spring morning when Draco and Hermione found themselves hand in hand on the porch of Malfoy Manor, staring up at the large wooden door. In fact, it was nearly summer when Draco's schedule finally cleared enough to even think about considering brunch with his mothers. They had exchanged a few letters during that time, though several of Draco's were written by Hermione from dictation. After the new surgeon had been hired, Draco took two days off, dosed himself with dreamless sleep and didn't get out of bed for nearly eighteen hours as he tried to sleep off the latent exhaustion of the past month.
Pressing his hand against the ancient wood, the wards recognized the Malfoy heir and the door swung easy on its hinges, allowing the pair of them access with little fuss. It wasn't long before the click of heels carried the Malfoy matriarch into the foyer where she promptly threw her arms around her son and wept.
Hermione stood awkwardly nearby while she watched the tearful reunion, no matter how expected it was, before she heard the clearing of a throat to her left. When she turned to see where the sound had come from, she came face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy.
"Shall we, Miss Granger?" The head of the Malfoy family asked, holding his arm out as though to beckon her into his private study.
If she was surprised at his recognition, she didn't show it. With a glance back to Draco and his mother, Hermione turned to face Lucius and strode towards him, her posture indicative of nothing but confidence. She was grateful he couldn't see the butterflies flitting around in her stomach. She passed through the door and he motioned for her to sit in a plush armchair before settling into his own.
What Hermione thought might have been a study turned out to be one of probably a number of sitting rooms scattered throughout the manor. The room was open and bright with feminine touches here and there bit still bespoke of the wealth of the Malfoy family.
"I must admit, Miss Granger, we were expecting our son to arrive in the company of a Miss Garrett. You wouldn't have an explanation for that, would you?"
With her hands folded demurely in her lap, Hermione locked her gaze onto the silvery eyes of the patriarch of the Malfoy family. Unlike the silver toned eyes of her beloved, whose gaze was often light and playful, the orbs staring back at her carried the weight of the world within.
"She and I are one in the same, sir."
"An alias? How clever, Miss Granger. Tell me, what alias has my son used all of these years?"
"I suspect you are already aware of the fact that he goes by Dr. Drake Moore these days, sir." Hermione knew for a fact he was aware given that Draco had written that quite plainly in one of his letters.
One corner of Lucius' mouth rose in a smirk as he watched her with careful eyes. "Indulge me the tale of your meeting one another, my dear. It was my understanding that you and my son left our world around the same time."
"Coincidence, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione affirmed before providing a brief summary of how they met up until the time they had accepted Narcissa's invitation to brunch, knowing that he would likely just keep asking her questions if she didn't indulge him the information to begin with.
Lucius steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his narrowed eyes causing his brow to furrow. "And is my son happy, Miss Granger?"
Before she could respond, the door to the sitting room flew open and her eyes met Draco's, who seemed quite relieved to find her still at the Manor. "There you are." He said, crossing the room to where she sat as Narcissa peeked in through the door way.
Hermione smiled up at Draco as he took her hand in his, perching on the arm of her chair. "I thought it best to give you and your mother a bit of privacy."
His respite was short-lived as he was once again on his feet with his hand clasped firmly in that of his father's.
"Father," Draco greeted, courteously before Lucius pulled him into an embrace, wrapping his arms around his one and only son. With that embrace, all of the guilt from abandoning his parents for the past decade rushed into the forefront of his mind. Just as he had done his mother, he grasped his father tightly as though a hug from the man would make all of the troubles of the world recede.
"Son."
Hermione watched as Lucius' body visibly relaxed as he hugged his son. In some ways, this reunion was even more emotional than the one she had witnessed earlier between Draco and his mother, though no tears were shed. She could only imagine what might be going through Draco's mind while feeling completely honored to share in this intimate moment with him and his parents.
She had already made up her mind that Lucius had his son's best interests at heart and seemed to have mellowed considerably from the wizard who had tried to murder herself and her friends on more than one occasion. She hoped to get to know the man further as well as for a proper introduction to Draco's mother, though the latter was likely to happen within the next few moments.
When they broke apart with both father and son wearing identical smiles, Hermione looked up at Lucius from her seat in the plush arm-chair and saw the magnitude of his affection for his son in the way he carried himself. He seemed to walk a little taller and his posture was just a bit straighter.
"Before Draco came in, you asked me a question, Mr. Malfoy and I think you should know that my answer is an emphatic yes."
"What did you ask her?" Draco asked his father, puzzled, as he settled back onto the arm of the chair where Hermione sat.
"Only if you were happy." Lucius replied, his arm coming to rest around his wife who had finally entered the room instead of peering at the scene through the doorway.
Draco's gaze turned to Hermione as he fondly caressed the back of her cheek with his knuckles, smiling down on her with every ounce of love he had to give.
"Exceptionally so."
….
A/N: Only one more chapter to go! Please let me know if you're enjoying this little tale I've crafted. It's been a pleasure to write and will be even more of a pleasure to finally finish.