28/12/2013 AN: finally, finally I get around to finishing this stupid bloody fic! I got to some bits and they were just so unbearably cringe I had to edit them...and now I know all that's waiting for me in Hell is more manuscripts from when I was fifteen. Anyways, I assume the only people who will read this are those who subscribed ages ago but I have to get it out for my own peace of mind (and so I can start with some other fic in my archives). Enjoy! (or don't, more likely!)

Chapter Thirteen

July 2005

Life took on a rhythm, as it is wont to do. He felt happy. On a Sunday he and Seth were over at the Manor for lunch and when Tilly appeared to announce they were ready to serve, there was literally a skip in his step. Hermione wasn't with him but he knew she was somewhere, thinking all her delicious thoughts and half of them about him. Lucius and Seth were walking slightly ahead, Seth had asked some trivial question, and Narcissa, smiling, asked, 'Is there a girl?'

'A girl?' His heart tightened.

'There's surely some reason for your mood.'

He flushed. 'It's too soon yet.'

'Oh a mother knows when it's serious.'

There was some part of him that longed to yell this from the battlements to the dungeons, to introduce the people he loved to one another and show them off. His mother could be funny, his father could be clever, they could act like people to be proud of.

And at the same time he was only too painfully aware that Hermione was too far below his blood status to ever be acceptable. His parents could never be at their best around her. His mother would never look at him with that love if she knew about Hermione. So he stayed quiet all through dinner about how he'd been spending his time as of late and instead joined the discussion on the weather and society occasions. He'd been quite out of the loop as of late, because of Hermione, and all his invitation cards stood propped up gathering dust on the mantelpiece. His mother was reprimanding him lightly for not going out more, everybody at the last garden party was saying they'd missed him, and she told him he'd have to go to the Atkins because they were going to have an ice sculpture brought in from Russia. Though he was loathe to admit he rather did want to go. He was very keen to learn from his mother who had fallen out with whom and who was engaged and who had caused a scandal for being caught with the help. His parents were actually capable of being very good company when they felt like it and they could act almost normal around Seth now. They were even mildly impressed to learn he was socialising with the son of the prime–minister. Sometimes, Draco felt there was hope for his family after all.

He had been planning to go back to the flat directly after they were finished eating but when everything was going so swimmingly he decided to take up the invitation of playing boules on the back lawn. And then his mother promised treacle so he stayed on for tea and then, when they were all playing rummy in the parlour, Seth fell asleep. 'I suppose I should take him home,' Draco said. Even knowing Hermione awaited him he was unwilling to leave because who knew when everybody would be getting along so happily again?

'Oh just leave him here,' Lucius said.

'Yes, you know you've been awfully good but perhaps it's time Seth came home,' Narcissa said hesitantly. 'Your father and I have been talking about it and really London is no place for a child. It won't be long until he's off to school and we ought to spend time with him while we can.'

'And he's never going to get magic so we may as well get on with it,' Lucius added. Draco couldn't find his words. Wonderful, beautiful parents! How proud of them he felt, he wanted to shake their hands and kiss their foreheads and tell them he loved them. But he couldn't. So all he did was nod as heartily as he could and say, 'Yes, yes you're right.'

'So we'll send for his things in the morning?'

'Yes, of course.'

'And you'll tell the muggle woman to come here for his lessons?'

'Yes, first thing.'

And he wondered if they understood everything he was trying to say with his nods.

With Seth out of the way there was more Hermione time and she was at the flat almost always except when she was teaching. He got an offer on the house in Cotswold and decided he may as well just sell it because he was really too busy to keep supervising the renovations and anyways the flat was all he needed when it was just him.

He felt life was very sweet, waking up around nine with Hermione, looking through the papers while she was with Seth, reading letters and all that. In the afternoons he had meetings and then the evenings were either Hermione or sometimes a game of tennis or out to a club with the old Slytherin gang. He got into no duels and didn't lose too much money in backgammon. And the nights… oh they were always Hermione. She was still half–living at home and her parents had gotten used to her coming in at 3am or not at all. Only now, they wanted to meet him.

'I spend all my time with you. They're just curious,' she said. They were going over for dinner. 'And I told you it's going to be casual.'

'You mean… I shouldn't change?' He glanced at the suit laid out on the bed with a pang. It was his favourite.

'Yes.'

'What will I wear?'

'What you have on is fine.'

'These? Tennis clothes to dinner?'

'Draco I told you, it's only going to be spaghetti Bolognese and Trivial Pursuit, you needn't to dress up.'

He resisted telling her that not wearing robes was akin to going naked anyways and he hadn't even gone for a morning suit or frock coat so really he had made enough compromises already. Instead he raised his left forearm and said, 'I can't wear short sleeves all evening.'

Hermione looked blank. 'What?' she said.

He waved his wand over his arm and revealed the Dark Mark. Still ominously red raw and unfaded. 'I mean, I wear glamours when I need to but it really starts to hurt after a while,' he said. Hermione only looked at him, eyes fixed to his arm. He hated that look on her face, she was holding her breath and there was almost a fear in her eyes. He didn't want to frighten her but he had known for some time they couldn't skirt around the topic forever.

'I know it's ugly,' he said, turning his arm inward so she couldn't see it, thrusting it into his pocket. 'If I bandage it will you tell them a dog bit me or something?'

'Oh you don't need to hide it. They'll just think it's a tattoo or something.'

'I'd rather they thought I was once in the service of a homicidal maniac than that I have a tattoo.' He said the word as if it was a venereal disease.

'Draco they won't know what it is.'

'Well you know.' Ah, here it was, her eyes filling up with tears as he took his roll of bandages out of the drawer at his bedside and began rolling them around his arm. He was quite rough and it was so sore but he kept on.

'I knew you had it when we started seeing each other.'

It stung him, that she acted as if she'd methodically weighed up the pros and cons of Draco Malfoy. Had he passed her test and she was now having doubts? Only, she looked at him so beautifully he couldn't feel angry. 'Don't cry,' he said and once he had tied the bandage he crossed the room and put his arm around her and kissed her temple and then down her ear, along her jaw. 'Come on, I'll wear my whites and be happy and go to your parent's house,' he said. 'We'll have a great time.'

She was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and then, 'I'm afraid there's something I didn't tell you.'

'What?' He felt himself tense around her.

'I told Harry I'd babysit for him tonight.'

Annoying. Quite the last thing he wanted to do, but how could he muster any anger up when her hair was so soft in his hands? He kissed her hairline. 'I'll survive,' he said.

And he did. Mr and Mrs Granger were every bit as sharp and quick as Hermione which only made sense of course. Conversation flowed smooth and natural and Potter's son, James, was an easy child. He'd taken a great liking to Draco. 'Birdie!' he said when Draco entered the room. Harry and Ginny had dropped him over around six and Hermione's parents had minded him.

'Hello to you too,' Draco said.

'Birdie! Birdie!' came the incessant whine. He was struggling from Mrs Granger's lap. 'Birdie! Up!'

'What does he mean?' Hermione asked, coming into the room.

'I have no idea– oh.'

'What? What is it?'

Draco found himself blushing. 'I may have once cast my patronus in front of him. I'm surprised he remembers it.'

'Birdie!'

Hermione didn't comment on the patronus thing but he could see she was thinking about it as he shook hands with her father and complimented her mother. He had never had a girlfriend whose parents he met formally like this but he had the good sense to know what to do - laugh at her father's jokes and pet-names, offer to help with kitchen things he knew nothing about and be nice to the baby at all costs. After dinner it started to fuss sitting on Draco's knee and as much as he felt like giving it a good shake all he did was make faces to amuse it, to no avail.

'He's not hungry and he's clean,' Hermione said.

'He's probably just tired,' said Mr Granger.

'Perhaps if you try that bird thing Draco,' Mrs Granger suggested. Draco drew out his wand and hesitated. Why was it so embarrassing to have a patronus? He felt deeply ashamed thinking that Harry and Ginny had seen it and probably discussed it when he had left that day.

After all, he had made no apologies for being a Death Eater but a patronus was a kind of signal that he was good at heart, a victim of circumstance, an unfortunate result of the war. He didn't want pity. He didn't pretend to be a good person, had no desire to make people like him when they'd already decided he was evil in their heads. And yet, for Hermione he'd have to swallow it. 'Expecto patronum,' he said, concentrating on that distinct feeling of elation, and there grew from the tip of his wand an eagle. It wasn't a particularly good one because he didn't feel very happy but Mr and Mrs Granger sat up appreciatively and said, 'Very nice Draco.'

James squealed and grabbed at it. 'Birdie!' he said, tears still streaked on his face. When it disappeared he appeared to be considering another bout of tears but Draco entertained him making sparks with his wand. James clapped and squealed again. Then he relaxed into Draco's arms, lazily pulling at the bandage on Draco's arm and then slowly sighing off to sleep. Draco sat there unwilling to move in case he woke the baby, when Hermione and her mother went in to the kitchen to get the cheeseboard and some grapes.

'So what do you do Draco?' Mr Granger said.

'This and that,' he said. 'I manage the family money, meet with the stewards, watch the stock market. I've got some charity stuff and investments in start–ups too.'

Mr Granger nodded, eyebrows raised. 'Sounds impressive.'

'It's not really, it's just a load of jargon and shaking hands a lot of the time,' he said. 'There's a lot of luck.'

'I have to say, Hermione is certainly very taken with you.'

'I like her a lot,' he said.

'The Weasley boy, he was nice but I don't think he was really right for our Hermione.' Draco, not trusting himself to say anything, remained silent and Mr Granger went on, 'You knew him I suppose?'

'Yeah, we were at school together.'

'Were you in his house? I understand houses matter a lot in Hogwarts.' Well that was an understatement.

'No. We didn't really get along.'

'Ah yes Hermione mentioned you'd need to leave before Harry and Ginny came to pick up James to avoid an argument.'

Draco laughed. Typical Hermione, thinking of everything. He glanced at the clock.

'Relax, they're not due until midnight,' Mr Granger said. 'They're at something for Quidditch, you know Ginny plays?'

'Yes. Holyhead Harpies, though I think she took leave indefinitely after this one,' Draco said, nodding at James, now sleeping on the couch beside him.

'I can't remember the names, though Ron used to go on about one…'

'I'm not much of a Quidditch man myself, though–'

And he was cut off by the doorbell. His heart seemed to slow down as he heard Hermione approach the door. 'Oh, Harry!' she said. 'You're early.' Her voice carried with painful clarity.

'Yeah, sorry. Gin wasn't feeling well so we left and I figured I'd relieve you early.' He could perfectly imagine the foolish grin Harry always wore. 'So where is he?'

'Just in the sitting room but–'

But nothing because Harry had already opened the door and his eyes met with Draco's. 'Malfoy?' he said, utterly dumbfounded. He swallowed loudly. 'Hello Mr Granger.'

'Hello Harry.' Mr Granger seemed thoroughly amused.

'What're you, ah, doing here?'

Draco exchanged a glance with Hermione and Harry followed his gaze. 'You two are… friendly?'

'A bit more than that Harry,' Mr Granger said gently.

Draco honestly thought Harry might faint. The situation seemed to have driven him to the point of incoherency. 'But you – what? He – I – it's Malfoy!' he said.

'I'm quite aware of that Harry,' Hermione said coolly.

'Perhaps I should go,' Draco said. As carefully as he could he stood without disturbing the baby.

'No you really don't have to,' Hermione said.

'No, it's fine, I have stuff in the morning anyways,' he said. 'Tell your mother I said thanks for dinner and nice meeting you Mr Granger.' He got his jacket from where it hung over the back of the sofa and kissed Hermione on the cheek. 'See you tomorrow,' he said to her and couldn't resist a wink, just to enjoy that last image of Harry, mouth agape, physically recoiling (had he ever experienced a thought that wasn't immediately written on his face?)