A/N: I won't lie to you, I'm not 100% happy with this chappie, but it's nothing I can fix anytime soon because I can't find a way to do it better, so it'll have to stay as it is for the time being. I figured I might as well post it, since I've made ya'll wait so long. I had originally planned this whole chapter in Hermione's POV, but I suddenly wanted to express some of Draco's thoughts and it wouldn't flow with the other chapters if I randomly switched to an omniscient POV. So then I switched that part to Draco's POV, and I'm not sure if I prefer it this way. Please do me a favor and let me know if you like that conversation in Draco's POV instead of Hermione's. You'll know which conversation I mean when you get there. Also, sorry for the capslock in advance, but I feel it's necessary so I'm keeping it as is. Anywho, on to the reviews!
janjan2009 - Heehee. Yes, it is incredibly sneaky, which is why I think it suits the Malfoy family so well. I'm glad you like dominant Hermione. It's fun to write her bossing around Draco, and she'll definitely get more comfortable doing it as time goes on, so you can expect more of that later! As for Draco being sexy, well, that's one of the most self-evident truths of the universe, isn't it?
l0stinl0ve - Thank you! It makes my day when I see a positive review, so let's keep this circle of happiness going, shall we?
BrightestWitchOfHerAge16 - Thank you! In all honesty, I probably only thought of it because it's my ideal proposal. Other girls dream of their boyfriends dropping to one knee with a ring box. I dream about my boyfriend telling me we're going out to eat and then taking me to a house he built for us with a gigantic library in it. Don't give me a ring, because I'll lose it within twenty-four hours, but I can't lose a library! *dreamy sigh*
LadyF - Thank you! I know exactly what you mean. It's gotten to the point where I start skimming the first several paragraphs of a fic and then decide if it's interesting enough to actually go back and seriously read it. I've ruled out a surprising number of fics that way because I can usually tell right then if a fic is going to be too OOC or if the writing style is going to bother me. Sometimes I don't like being so picky, but then there's that moment when I find a really good one I'm decently impressed with and it makes it all worth it. I love that feeling. Anywho, as a fellow reader who has read too many mediocre stories over the years, it means so much more to me that you like mine!
Divess - Heehee. I love that line too. As soon as I got to that part, I didn't even have to think about it because it's so typical Draco. He just had to say it. That conversation practically spilled out of my brain onto the page quicker than I could type it because being snarky is what Draco does best and he always makes me laugh. I'm glad to see you enjoy his comments, too!
racethom - Wow! I would have been just as uncomfortable as it sounds you were! Granted, I might have taken to it a bit better because I enjoy being lazy, but that must have been such a culture shock for you! Who can't even go inside their own kitchen? Seriously? Anywho, I completely agree. It sounds a lot like the way I imagine house elves are with wizarding families. And it is very strange to us because Americans are generally taught to be independent and ambitious (capitalism, free enterprise, etc), so the thought of being so dependent upon someone else to do simple things like fetching a purse seems honestly a little bit crazy. We just want to do it ourselves and get on with our day rather than stand around waiting for someone else to do something we're perfectly capable of doing ourselves. That's how it seems to me, anyway. /endrant.
DramioneObsessed - Thank you so much! I wouldn't call my writing flawless, but I'm glad you think it is!
rhileigh - Thank you for telling me! That's always so lovely to read! I'm glad you like it so much!
~~~\~~~
Step 12: Adapting to Your New Life
There is something about owning his own home that makes a Malfoy male more unruly than usual. His inner child seems to run amok more often than not so that he makes incredibly stupid decisions and blames them on something irrelevant that you did. He is not above throwing a horrid temper tantrum at the slightest grievance if he can get away with it, and be prepared for several declarations of insanely trivial rules, such as when you are allowed to get out of bed in the morning or at what precise time dinner shall be served (e.g. twelve past six). He is merely marking his territory and exerting his dominance in the new space as an alphamale. I'm sure you'll find it just as amusing as I that if such a comment is dared whispered aloud, he scoffs and lists all the reasons why his is so much more civilized than a common animal. Yet the similarities are undeniable. My advice to you is, don't be angry, be sarcastic. Malfoys loathe it when their best weapon is used against them, and that anger makes for an amusing argument about whether Malfoys exclusively own the rights to sarcasm. According to them, they invented it.
He might have you wrapped around his little finger in the bedroom, but don't forget that he wouldn't have chosen you if you couldn't put him in his place from time to time, so don't be afraid to do it whenever you deem his ego too much bigger than usual.
~~~\~~~
Hermione was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised that Draco had convinced her to stay shut up in their new home by keeping her busy.
He had insisted on christening every room (and every moderately-sized piece of furniture) in the house, and when they weren't doing that or passing out in exhaustion, they ensconced themselves in the plushy armchairs of the library or sprawled out in the living room, reading by the windows. Whenever they felt like getting some fresh air, they took long walks in the garden and discussed all the potions they could make with ingredients from the plants alone.
The only thing she insisted on was making meals herself, though he argued until she allowed a house elf, Mipsy, to do the 'tedious task' of grocery shopping if she paid her.
That was, until after the fourth meal Hermione had cooked, when Draco nearly scared her to death by fake-vomiting into the nearest toilet. She didn't realize he had faked it until she dragged him onto the living room sofa and wiped his forehead with a wet compress. That was when he moaned pitifully and not-so-subtly accused her of poisoning him just so she could leave the house.
She was so offended, confused, and worried that she started crying. He dropped the act immediately and consoled her, which didn't actually make her feel any better as he admitted to her face that he thought her a terrible cook. While she wasn't entirely surprised, as he had been raised on house elf gourmet cooking, she was still deeply hurt that he had resorted to faking food poisoning instead of discussing it with her.
The ensuing fight was dreadful.
She had immediately stood up from her seat on the sofa, making Draco roll off her lap onto the floor.
"Oi! Ow!" he exclaimed, landing awkwardly on his elbow.
But she didn't care. She was furious.
"I can't believe you!" she screeched. "Instead of calmly explaining that you don't like it all that much, like a normal person, you honestly felt the need to guilt me into letting a house elf cook for you? I was worried that you were ill, but all you wanted was better food! Well, fine! Have your way!"
She stepped over him, stalked into the kitchen, grabbed her beaded purse off the counter, and headed straight for the front door.
He was up in a flash and whipped out his wand, locking and barricading it before she could reach it.
"And where do you think you're going?" he demanded.
She spun around to face him with a glare. "I'm leaving you and your house elf to enjoy your good food together! Clearly, you aren't emotionally ready for a serious relationship if your first instinct is to manipulate your girlfriend into conforming to such high standards!"
She took out her wand and started breaking the spells he put on the door.
"Oh no you don't!" he rushed forward and clamped his arms around her, physically hauling her away from the door.
"GET OFF ME, DRACO!" she shrieked.
"NO!" he snapped back. "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO LEAVE ME HERE ALL BY MYSELF!"
"YOU WON'T BE BY YOURSELF WITH YOUR PRECIOUS HOUSE ELF!"
She tore herself away from his grip and started to storm back into the kitchen to get away from him. He followed her.
"IF YOU'D CALM THE FUCK DOWN FOR FIVE SECONDS, THEN MAYBE WE COULD TALK THIS OUT!"
She halted, turning on her heel and feeling even more enraged.
"OH, NOW YOU WANT TO TALK? BY ALL MEANS, DRACO! LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW YOU CAN'T EVEN BE HONEST ABOUT FOOD! WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU BEEN LYING TO ME ABOUT?"
"NOTHING! I DON'T LIE ABOUT THINGS FOR NO REASON! I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS!"
"HURT MY FEELINGS? SO DRACO 'SNARKY' MALFOY HAS FINALLY GROWN A CONSCIENCE, HAS HE? AND HOW THE HELL IS ACCUSING ME OF POISONING YOU SUPPOSED TO SPARE MY FEELINGS?"
"I DON'T KNOW! I WASN'T THINKING! ALL I KNOW IS THAT YOU LOOKED SO BLOODY CONTENT WHEN YOU MADE IT, THAT I COULDN'T BEAR TO TELL YOU I DIDN'T LIKE IT. BECAUSE IT WAS EASIER TO SAY IT WHEN I WAS ACTING AND HAVE YOU MAD AT ME THAN TO SAY IT THEN AND MAKE YOU SAD. BECAUSE I DIDN'T THINK MY ACTING WOULD MAKE YOU CRY. BECAUSE I BLOODY LOVE YOU, HERMIONE, AND THIS STUPID EMOTION IS MAKING ME IRRATIONAL!"
Hermione was shocked into silence and merely stared at him for several long minutes.
"What?" she eventually whispered.
Draco was still breathing heavily through his nose, but his face was gradually returning to its normal, pale hue and his fingers relaxed from fisting by his sides.
"You heard. I love you, Hermione, and it's bloody pissing me off how much it hurts me when you're sad. My decisions have become significantly less efficient whenever you're involved because I'm too bloody busy worrying about your reaction. I...I hate that I don't have as much control anymore, but...I don't want to give you up, either. I like being with you too much, and you make me feel...well, you make me feel."
And just like that, her rage vanished like it had been evanesco'd, only convincing her further that they were probably the most bipolar couple on the planet. Even worse, tears sprung to her eyes and she fought valiantly to hold them back because she didn't want him to think he had made her cry again, in a bad way.
She slowly walked over to him, her eyes never leaving his. He watched her silently, but no less intensely, waiting for her to comment on his outburst.
Her hands automatically reached up to smooth against his chest and she smiled, finally letting the tears fall.
"I love you, too, Draco," she returned, barely above a whisper. Her throat was so choked up with emotion, she couldn't speak any louder.
The corners of his lips quirked up into a smile. Not a smirk, a real smile, however small.
"Of course you do," he boasted. "I was the Wizarding World's Most Eligible Bachelor until you snatched me up."
She chuckled, leaning her head against his chest above her hands. He wrapped his arms around her gently, but firmly holding her in place, and she hummed happily. This man was most definitely going to induce wild mood swings for the rest of her life, but at the moment, she didn't think she'd have him any other way.
"They say that make up sex is some of the best sex there is."
She rolled her eyes. Honestly! Sometimes she wondered if he was an undiagnosed sex addict because he got it pretty much whenever he wanted it.
"I wouldn't know. I don't have enough empirical data to make a hypothesis on that topic."
"Well, if you care to begin such an experiment, I believe we have yet to pay our respects to the futon in the library."
"Perhaps," she teased. "But how do you propose we 'pay our respects' to the armoire in the bedroom?"
She looked up just in time to see his wicked grin before he covered her lips with his.
"I have a few ideas," he mumbled against her mouth before kissing her thoroughly, slowly leading her through the kitchen hallway, then up the stairs.
She vaguely wondered if it was unhealthy, how many times they had shagged in two days, but then she remembered the previous March and registered his hand slipping down her trousers to squeeze her bum while his tongue kept her own occupied. She decided the answer wasn't that important, instead focusing on divesting him as quickly as possible in order to decide for herself if the claim about make up sex had any merit.
After all, challenging Draco Malfoy's beliefs was her specialty.
~~~\~~~
To Hermione's horror, two more days passed before she remembered how she had gotten there in the first place.
"Ginny!" she burst out suddenly, after skimming past a book on the history of the Holyhead Harpies in the library. The horror of being such an abysmal friend, leaving her friends in Diagon Alley and never saying a word when she had decided to stay, froze her for several moments before she started panicking.
Harry would have gone berserk the second he thought her missing, and Ginny would be so angry with her for not writing a bleeding note, assuming she hadn't been kidnapped! And of course they couldn't owl her to ask where she was because she was in an environment specifically charmed to keep all her friends out!
"Draco!" she called, hurrying over to his dark green chair. "Draco! I need an owl, now!"
He looked up and frowned at her frantic tone. "Why?"
"I forgot about Ginny and Harry!" she explained with anguish. "I was with them in Diagon Alley when I ran into Zabini, and then I followed him here and completely forgot-"
She cut herself off when her boyfriend rolled his eyes and smirked.
"How can you be so callous!" she shrieked.
"Hermione, they already know where you are," he informed her amusedly.
She blinked. "They do? How?"
"Merlin, you are dense sometimes, aren't you?"
She pursed her lips, ready to retort, but he continued before she could speak.
"Weaselette dragged you to Diagon Alley so you'd 'accidentally' run into Blaise, who would 'accidentally' lead you here. It was her idea, actually. Didn't think she could think like a Slytherin, but she managed surprisingly well."
"You three...planned it? All of it?"
He nodded with a triumphant smirk, clearly pleased that their plan had been a success.
She stared at him, trying to figure out if she felt more deceived or impressed that he had successfully worked with a Weasley.
And now that she thought back on it, Ginny had been acting suspiciously that day. She had seemed much more cheery and dismissive than usual, and Harry had seemed rather confused as to why he was being dragged off so forcefully.
But that was classic Ginny, scheming for the benefit of her friends and family, even if it was rather underhanded.
"Oh."
Normally, she would start ranting about how immature it was to manipulate her to get what they wanted, but that seemed a bit too much like pot and kettle. She'd been rather immature herself, using every excuse to avoid telling him she wanted to give their relationship a serious go; and if they hadn't tricked her, then how long would Draco have waited to tell her he loved her?
Draco raised a pale eyebrow. "What, no lecture on how you can take care of yourself and how despicably rude it is to manipulate others?" he teased.
She shrugged. "I might have been rather cowardly myself, recently," she admitted, biting her bottom lip.
"The Gryffindor lioness, cowardly? Perish the thought!" he mocked.
She glared but couldn't muster up any actual heat to burn him with her eyes, so he continued smirking at her. Hermione blushed under his smug gaze, and was immensely thankful when a sudden voice distracted him.
"Draco! Darling, where are you?" a polished, feminine voice called from downstairs.
Draco sighed. "Not even a bloody day has passed since I hooked it up to the network and she's already butting in," he growled. "One moment, Mother!" he called loudly.
Hermione curiously followed him downstairs, but stayed behind the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. She fully intended to stay out of sight of the fireplace he had just put in because she still didn't have a clue how his mother felt about her. Therefore, she decided not to intrude, but couldn't resist eavesdropping to catch any comments about herself.
***/***
"Ah, there you are. Darling, it is very disconcerting seeing you float in midair while talking to you," she admonished primly.
Draco almost reflexively sighed and rolled his eyes, but he caught himself. His mother hated it when he was disrespectful. He told her the address and her eyes darted around the room, taking in the living room décor. He backed up, giving her space, and a minute later, she gracefully stepped out of the fireplace, waving her wand to clean off any soot residue.
He went through the motions of setting up the coffee table like a play he knew by heart. He Summoned the tea paraphernalia and set it up almost mindlessly, watching his mother seat herself and glance around the room again, eyeing the details. He sensed the impending criticism the moment her eyes remained on one spot for longer than two seconds.
"That is the carpet you chose? Darling, if you would just owl my personal designer-"
He scowled, pushing a tea cup, already prepared the way she liked it, toward her. "Mother, what is the purpose of your visit?"
She frowned. "Must a mother have an ulterior motive to visit her only son?"
"Of course you do. You always do," he pointed out stiffly.
She sniffed, offended, taking a few moments to sip the tea and set it down again. "I am wounded that you think so lowly of me, Draco. The bond a mother has with her child or grandchild is simply unbreakable."
Draco groaned, ignoring his own tea. "Not this again."
"I just want to meet her! Is that so terrible? I can't even imagine why you are so ashamed of me that you would inform The Daily Prophet before your very own mother that you were interested in a single witch."
"I'm not ashamed!" he denied heatedly. "I'm cautious. Besides, the Prophet stunt was a means to an end, not a slight to you, so stop taking it as such."
"Don't you lie to me, Draco. You are ashamed. You don't want me to meet her and all I want to know is why. I had to find out from Morwena, who was seeing you more than I was. But she refuses to tell me who the girl is out of sheer spite, and now my own son is ashamed of me...the only family I truly have left..." His mother started tearing up, so she pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes.
"Oh, Draco, when did you start hating me so?"
Draco's usual stoic mask was slipping further by the second, instead showing tenderness he rarely exhibited. To date, only two witches had ever drawn it out of him: his mother and Hermione.
"Mother, of course I don't hate you. You're being perfectly silly."
"Then why won't you tell me anything about your life? I didn't even know you were thinking about building a library! How could you not tell me? A library!" Her voice cracked, making him frown.
"I'm not ashamed, Mother, I swear it. And I most certainly don't hate you. I just...I'm afraid you won't like her, and you both mean the world to me. I don't want to have to choose."
Her clear blue eyes widened and softened into the beautiful sincerity she only had with him. "Draco, Darling, I would never do that to you."
"You did it to your sister," he whispered, suddenly afraid she was going to hate him for pointing out her own mistakes. But at the same time, he wouldn't let her guilt him with a declaration of family loyalty.
His mother stared as if she had been slapped.
"And don't deny it," he said with more strength. "Aunt Andromeda was burned from the tapestries and everything, exiled, because she dared fall in love with a muggle-born. And you didn't do a bleeding thing to stop it. You and Father and Aunt Bella pretended she hadn't even existed all those years, and the only reason I know about her is because Father made me read all those self-updating family ancestry books. I'm not the only family you have left. There's still Aunt Andromeda and her grandson. You have a grand-nephew and here you are badgering me about providing you a grandson because you feel so alone. Aren't you sick of pretending to hate her because everyone else wanted you to?"
This was something he had desperately burned to ask her since he had found out, but it had never seemed the right time to make her so upset. Her expression changed just slightly, to one where she had been slapped by a stranger, as opposed to her son. He didn't know which expression made him feel worse.
"Draco..."
For the first time ever, she seemed completely at a loss for words. She had no defense and she knew it.
"I'm sick of it, Mother. I'm sick of being controlled and manipulated and threatened, by anyone. You want to know why I didn't tell you? This is why. Because you think you know what's best even though our entire family has fallen from grace because of Father's stupid decisions."
"Draco!" she finally reprimanded.
"No. I'll speak however I wish, Mother. I know you don't like to hear it, but it's true. Father grossly miscalculated, and what angers me even more is that he didn't even choose a leader who appreciated his own followers! The Dark Lord made no distinction between Death Eaters and muggle-borns; we were all tortured just as cruelly. In fact, he was more honest with the muggles than he was with us! At least he told the muggles flat out that he hated them and they deserved to be tortured and killed. He lied to us over and over, spouting off about a world ruled by purebloods. Well, if anyone had bothered to pay attention, he didn't give a shite about purebloods, he just wanted to rule the world himself and kill everyone in it! I can't even fathom what Father was thinking, taking sides with someone who'd sooner Crucio you than thank you. I mean, he never even rewarded us properly! His reward for us completing missions was a creepy smile and not killing or torturing us! What sort of reward system is that? We're all fucking idiots for allowing it!"
It was a sign of how shocking his outburst was that she made no remark about his language.
"Your father had his reasons," she replied stiffly, her cold demeanor slipping back into place.
"He was blinded by promises of power, you mean," Draco sniped.
"Draco Lucius, your father was a good man!"
"Was he? When did he ever show me that? At what point was I supposed to see that? When he told me emotions were weaknesses to be exploited by the strong and clever? When he yelled at me for hours about a muggle-born getting higher marks than me, and Potter catching the Snitch every bloody time? When he Crucio'd me himself, to prepare me for when The Dark Lord would do it countless times? When he urged me to identify three of my classmates so one of them could be killed and the other two tortured right in front of me? Yes, I can clearly see his fatherly love and devotion throughout the years," he sneered.
That seemed to finally break her, tears streaming down her flawlessly pale cheeks.
"Oh, my Darling, you don't understand! You don't understand the choices he had to make. There was no other option to survive except to go along with it!"
"There's always another option, Mother," he retorted coldly. "We could have fought him with gold and influence. What bloody good is all that if we allow ourselves to become slaves? How are we different from 'muggle filth' if we let ourselves be oppressed down to their level? They're all just excuses. I don't care how many excuses you make for him, I'll never forgive him for everything he's done. As far as I'm concerned, I never had a father, only a taskmaster who happened to help create me."
Seeing his mother so distraught nearly killed him underneath his anger, but the anger was strong enough to hide it. He meant every word with an anguished fury he didn't know how to express, so he stayed cold, just as Lucius had taught him. The man didn't even deserve to be called a father.
After a minute, his mother was able to pull herself together.
"You'll understand one day, Draco, I'm sure of it. Once you have a child of your own, you'll understand how scared we were and how necessary we thought those decisions. Because of those decisions, you and I are alive. He sacrificed himself for us because he loved us, both of us, and I'm so sorry he never showed you. He only did those things to prepare you because otherwise you would have perished, either by The Dark Lord's hand or your own."
Fuck, that was a depressing thought, but he could at least sort of see the logic in that. To give someone a thick skin at home so when the world threw shite at them, it wouldn't suck as much as if they had gone out all doe-eyed and optimistic. But that still didn't excuse Lucius' actions. Or maybe his mother was right. Maybe only parents were dumb enough to make those sorts of choices because love made them irrational.
Now that was a thought he could relate to, irrational love. He loved his mother, and he was willing to do anything for her, as he had done during the war, but family loyalty didn't strike him as irrational at all. No, it was his love for Hermione that allowed him a hint of understanding.
For just a moment, he imagined himself back in the drawing room, Lucius at his ear, whispering to identify Potter and Hermione. If he had loved her then as he loved her now, he knew instantly it would have been different. Just the thought of identifying her and knowing the outcome would have made him obstinately deny their identities. He would have found a way to convince his family it wasn't them, hopefully before Aunt Bella spotted the sword. And even if he had been caught in his lie, he very well might have taken his own life instead of watching Hermione be tortured by his own aunt. In a way, it had been good that he hadn't loved her then. He might not have survived the emotional trauma, or he might have done something Gryffindor-stupid like hex his aunt to save her. Yes, love definitely made people irrational.
After his mother wiped away her tears and dabbed her face, she reverted back to her usual self.
"Now," she started primly, as if they hadn't just nearly had a falling-out, "when shall I have your girlfriend over for tea?"
Draco stared, completely unprepared for the new attack. "Mother! You can't possibly have her at the Manor!" He immediately regretted his response, as it was bound to make her suspicious.
"Well, why not? The elves have done a splendid job of redecorating, under my direction, of course, so we can all forget about past unpleasantness."
Draco pressed his lips together, aggravated. He would not force Hermione to enter that house ever again. But he restrained his anger, knowing that his mother was only suggesting it because she hadn't an inkling who his girlfriend actually was.
"No, Mother. It cannot be at the Manor. Pick somewhere else. Anywhere else."
His mother frowned as she tried to piece together the clues he was accidentally giving her.
"Draco, Darling, please tell me it isn't," she sighed eventually.
"What?" he asked, cautiously offended.
"It's her, isn't it? There is only one muggle-born I can think of who wouldn't step inside our house for anything, and out of all the muggle-borns in England, you had to pick her?"
Draco bristled.
"Really, Darling, haven't you forever been complaining about her lack of elegance and beauty?" she asked disapprovingly.
"See? This is why I didn't want to tell you!" he hissed. "I knew you wouldn't approve. You're judging her based on her blood-"
"No, I am judging her based off of your constant descriptions of her since you were eleven," she interrupted. "It sounds as if the only talent she does have is her intelligence, but that does not make her fit to be a Malfoy. Malfoy wives are beautiful and cunning, too. I'm sorry, Darling, but she just won't survive our way of life."
Her matter-of-fact tone made the rejection sound worse, as if she were reasonably trying to explain that a bird and a fish couldn't possibly cohabitate.
"Well my descriptions were wrong. I was a bloody kid, I didn't know what I was talking about," he insisted.
"Language, Darling," she chided, before pausing. "I don't quite think you've ever admitted to being wrong before," she pointed out amusedly.
Draco felt the heat rush to his face, but he kept up his same façade, even if his cheeks were turning slightly pink. "Yes, well, you ought to see her for yourself before you judge her unfit."
His mother heaved a great, self-suffering sigh, which meant she was caving. "Oh, alright, Darling. I'll give her a chance to impress me, just for you. I'll search for somewhere suitable and owl you with the details."
"Thank you, Mother," he said sincerely.
She smiled and the warmth of it made her look ten times more beautiful than when she was pretending to be cold. "You're welcome. I'm afraid I must go now, for I have a family to gain back. I love you, my Darling."
Draco sighed in relief. She wasn't angry with him about Aunt Andromeda, and was even going to try mending the rift. It was either a sign of her guilt or her loneliness that she would swallow her pride and beg for forgiveness, but it made him so very proud of her.
"I love you, too, Mother. Good luck."
With one last loving look and a handful of Floo powder, she left. Draco leaned his head back, body sagging. Normally his mother was a logical, concise person, but when they got into emotional arguments, he always felt drained afterward, as if he had just performed some nearly impossible spell that required all of his magic. He felt exhausted, and therefore in desperate need of a nap.
He slowly stood up and started walking toward the hallway, when Hermione popped her head out from behind the wall. He halted at the sad look in her eyes and mentally swore. He had completely forgotten she had followed him downstairs.
"Hermione-" he started, not sure how to explain that his mother meant well.
"It's okay, Draco. I understand," she said softly, smiling a little to reassure him. "I've met your Aunt Walburga Black, remember? If your grandparents were anything like her, then I expect your mother has a lot of values to re-evaluate. It'll take some time, but I'm glad she's going to get back in touch with Andromeda. The poor woman's been so lonely without her husband or daughter. Having Teddy helps, but it's just not the same, I'm sure..." she trailed off.
Draco felt too tired to express everything in words, so he settled for pulling his girlfriend into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of her bushy hair. She hugged him back just as tightly and even though he was still tired, he felt content. He was definitely going to marry this witch one day. He just had to convince his mother to open up to her, so she could see for herself how clever, beautiful, and witty Hermione was. Lucius was probably turning over in his grave right about now, but Draco thought that his girlfriend would be a perfect Malfoy wife.
~~~\~~~
A/N2: I decided to hold off on last chapter's ad libs because it took me so long to get this out to you, and when I tried, I couldn't think of a way to add them in naturally. I'm sure I'll find a place for them next chapter, though, so there's no homework this time. But again, please do review or PM me with your thoughts of Draco's POV this chapter. I'm particularly interested in whether you liked having his insight versus Hermione's. Thank you lovies! Until next time...