LightofEvolution and In Dreams have been so generous with their time beta and alpha reading this story. They are loved.


Hermione feels warm and safe as she wakes, recognizing, through the haze of exhausted sleep, that Draco Malfoy's arms are wrapped around her, the tip of her nose pressed lightly against his cheek. "Good morning," she hears as she begins to stir, obviously not being the first between them to wake.

"Morning. What time is it?"

A pause and a shuffling of his head, all the while Hermione keeps her eyes closed, then he returns, "Half Seven. Can I assume Severus will not require you today?"

Hermione grins, straining her neck so her lips brush his jaw. "You can assume my partner and my employee can live a day without me, yes. I'm all yours," she adds.

She feels as much as hears the rumble of his answering hum, and he murmurs, "Indeed," before positioning himself to press his lips against hers, his palm cupping her face. "And what should we do with our very first day, Granger?"

Hermione smiles against his lips, full of suggestions, but then her face falls as she remembers, "We do have some obligations… for one, we have to go to the Ministry."

Groaning, Draco falls onto his back dramatically, pulling Hermione with him and holding her to his chest. "Must we? Can't we just… owl that I'm alive?"

She giggles at him, but wonders if this more jovial Malfoy is a healthy thing. Surely, one emotional break is not enough to have mourned his family? Regardless, she follows his lead, wanting nothing more than to give him whatever he needs.

"No," she answers quite haughtily, channeling her swottiest self, "You're meant to deliver a statement, and they'll need your signature of course. Besides, you need to get your money back from Harry. No doubt he won't let you take the lazy way out," she says with a smirk, and feels him chuckle beneath her.

"And breakfast. Can we have breakfast?"

She hears the excitement in his voice and remembers he hasn't had anything but fruit and nuts in months. "Even lunch and dinner," she promises, mockingly serious.

"Well, how can I say no to that?" She feels him shift and then he is pushing himself into a sitting position. She moves simultaneously until they are sitting beside one another, propped against her headboard.

Her attention slides to the large frame still opposite her bed, and the enormity of everything that's happened strikes her.

"Can we still pass through?" she wonders aloud, ever curious about the countless types of magic in the world.

He stiffens beside her. "Possibly… but I'm not putting so much as a toe over that threshold. And neither are you," he adds, wrapping his arm around her tighter. "We can't know if the charm might fail… or… I don't know, reinstate. I don't want you anywhere near that room, Granger, I'm serious."

Hermione does not much appreciate being told what to do, but she recognizes the fear throbbing beneath what sounds like authority. He's desperately afraid of the mirror. Afraid for her as well. So she nods and agrees, "I have no intention of letting myself become trapped in your family panic room. Perhaps the Ministry will take it. Let the Department of Mysteries pick it apart."

She feels the tension give infinitesimally, and he nods. "They're welcome to it." Seeming to decide to resolutely change the subject, Draco climbs from her bed and offers his hand. "Shall we then, pretty witch?"

She's helpless but to smile broadly at his term of endearment. He had called her that so often from his place in the gilded frame, but it's even more striking since he has joined her in the world. She imagines they are on the cusp of experiencing many firsts. She reaches for his hand and allows him to help her rise. "Will Potter be awake?"

"Not likely," she grins. "Not with Theo here."

Draco grimaces. "That's going to take some getting used to. It's bad enough my witch lives with the tosser, but now my best mate is shagging him."

She laughs at him, disappearing for a moment into her closet to slip out of one sundress and into another. Regardless of how many times she had undressed for his pleasure, there is something different about having him here, and she finds herself suddenly shy. When she does undress for him, and make no mistake, she will, thanks ever so, she wants it to be an important moment. Not just a task before breakfast.

When she emerges, he tsks at her, looking her dress up and down. "You didn't even let me watch?"

"Later," she breathes, meaning it more than she can say. "Come on, let's start getting your life back."

Grabbing her by the hand, Draco pulls her back, crashing her against his chest and leaning his face close to hers. "I'm pretty satisfied with everything I have right here."

She melts. Like a goddamn puddle, she dissolves at his feet, and is about to return the sentiment, but he sniffs and finishes, "Except this room, of course, is a bleeding shoebox."

"Draco!" she admonishes, looking up at him but finding herself too trapped in his hold to pull away. He's giving her that grin of his, the one that reduces her to a quivering mess of feminine adoration, so all she manages is a light smack to his upper arm with the back of her hand. "I quite like my room. Some of my fondest memories are here," she adds with a wink.

Laughing, Draco concedes, "Mine as well, come to think of it. Come on, then, beautiful. Let's rouse the lovebirds in some sort of loud and annoying way."

XXXXXXXXXXX

The day passes, and Hermione spends most every moment of it by Draco's side. Severus and Penelope had volunteered to tend to the shop for the coming days, and, for that, Hermione is grateful.

They don't make it to the Ministry after breakfast as planned, his mood turning, first, sour, then devastated. Hermione doesn't think it will hurt to wait one more day.

Draco tends to run a gamut of reactions, not always seeming to be appropriate for the circumstances. He rolls easily from pensive and serious, to being so joyful he's nearly manic, to a deep sorrow that seems infused to his bones. Theo is there, but he also gives him space.

That first evening Hermione thinks maybe he wants that from her as well, some privacy, and offers to make herself scarce for a time. "Don't you dare fucking leave, Granger," he answers, without hesitation, vehement and clenching his hands.

And so, she stays, holding him when he breaks and humoring him when he is playful, and simply sitting quietly nearby when he loses himself in his thoughts.

Their visit to the Ministry, rescheduled for the following day, goes off without a hitch. Harry floos ahead, requesting a meeting with Kingsley directly with a rather vague announcement of "He's out".

Draco is accompanied by Harry and Hermione, two-thirds of the Golden Trio flanking him, as he makes his way through the Atrium. Some bystanders gawk at him, either recognizing him personally, or perhaps the tell-tale platinum hair his father had made so well-known. When they arrive at the Minister's office, the witch sitting outside stares, open-mouthed, at the three of them. "Is that..."

"I need to see Kingsley, Patricia. It's, as you might imagine, rather urgent." Harry flashes her his famous boyish grin, and she blushes at him, stuttering out a 'yes' and 'of course' and generally muttering as she activates the magical call box on her desk.

"Mister Malfoy." Kingsley bursts from his office not a second later, nodding at Harry and Hermione, but striding right up to Draco and offering his hand. Hermione watches Draco hesitate, but finally reaches up to take it, allowing the Minister to clasp him in his grip and lock his other hand around his forearm. "My sincerest condolences.. I'm sure this is all quite the adjustment."

"Thank you, Minister," Draco replies, obviously uncomfortable. So much time spent alone, the high ceilings and cacophony of voices seem to be making him somewhat nervous.

Kingsley gestures that they follow him into his office, locking and silencing the door once they are inside.

Documents are presented next, Harry signing without hesitation to reinstate the Malfoy fortune to Draco, grinning at him proudly as he does. Hermione thinks Harry is charming; Draco mutters that he looks like a maniac.

Within merely an hour, Draco's life is back to some semblance as the one he had once known, beyond the glaring difference that his parents will not be waiting for him at his ancestral home. It seems this will go unsaid, until the Minister says, softly, "I am very sorry, son. Narcissa was an elegant lady and Lucius… I know he regretted many things in his life. I hadn't spoken to him in some time, but I've no doubt he would be happy to know that you can give your family back the respect he couldn't."

Hermione remembers Severus' unwavering trust in this man. She thinks of Lucius referring to him very familiarly. In Slytherin, you'll find your true friends, indeed.

Clearing his throat, Draco thanks him again, still uncomfortable, but now seemingly due to the emotion in his throat rather than the turbulence of his surroundings.

The Minister, also emotional, hurumphs, and extends a hand to Draco containing the parchment that will release the vault at Gringotts and acknowledge Draco as the rightful Black heir. "Well… there it is then. Every last knut."

"I appreciate-"

"Except, of course, the restoration fees charged to your family after the war," Kinglsey throws in quickly.

"Right, well-"

"And the processing fees to change over the estate," he interrupts again.

"Yes-"

"Twice."

"Alright." Hermione can see Draco's eyebrow start to twitch in annoyance.

"And the salary to the cleaners that scrubbed the dark magic from the premises."

Draco is silent this time, waiting.

"Well, it's more or less there," the MInister finishes, smiling again, and Hermione grins as Draco accepts the parchment, letting go an exhale of relief.

Theo had already completed his own transferal of inheritance that morning, and had been back to the Manor, readying the estate for the return of its master.

"Pipsy will be devastated," He had said before he left Grimmauld. He was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, Harry standing beside him with cup of coffee in his hand and his hair even more unruly than usual. Theo had been conversational and casual, running his forefinger up harry's bicep with delicate affection. Hermione had been struck by how domestic they all were, her own hand laying on Draco's forearm, his body leaned toward her like leaves toward the sun.

"I think she has a little something going with my Garden Elf," Theo'd explained.

"She could just stay with you." Draco had nearly shrugged the comment.

The room had been silent at that, Theo raising his eyebrow. "You know I have a team of elves."

Draco had agreed, unphased, "and I have nine others. Unless you'd rather she not, for some reason, which, can I just say, would make you a monster," he'd added with an affectionate roll of his eyes, "let her stay, Nott."

"You know she won't. She's bound to the Manor. To your family."

Hermione had watched as Draco loosed the tie from around his neck, throwing it at Theo carelessly. "Give her that. Tell her that Master Draco would very much like for her to work in the Gardens for Master Theo."

Hermione had squeezed his hand especially hard, grinning up at him when he smirked down at her.

XXXXXXXXXX

"You freed your elf," his witch says to him later. They are in her bedroom, a cup of tea going cold in Draco's hand. He had just needed some quiet after the bustle of the day. "Who will… do whatever it was that she did?"

It's been a long fucking day. Draco has been trying very hard to reign in the more intense of his emotions since his release, but is finding it difficult. He thought he had mourned his mother. Had you asked him a week ago, he would have likewise said his father didn't deserve the same consideration. It is becoming painfully clear, however, that he had not fully accepted the death of Narcissa Malfoy, and that he has some unresolved emotions regarding Lucius. However, sitting here now, luxuriating in the quiet, the calm, with his beautiful savior witch, he's finding it easier to focus on the here and now

"Well," he ponders, pretending to think on her question especially hard, "Pipsy was the very best at preparing my desserts. There was always a special treat for me at the end of the day." He levels her with a look that is drowning in significance. "Perhaps if someone would agree to help me finish my days on a high note?"

He adds a wriggle of his brow for effect, and Hermione giggles at him. "That's the worst, most obvious line I've ever heard. And I was often chatted up by McLaggen, just to put that in perspective."

Draco grimaces. "Let's make a rule, shall we? No former lovers mentioned while sitting on a bed together."

She hums in thought. "And just how many names will that exclude from your vocabulary tonight?"

"You can't possibly want this conversation to go that direction," he says, laughing freely.

She chuckles and shakes her head. "No, I really don't." Rolling her wrist at him, she says, "By all means, please continue your very questionable path to seduction."

Draco places his tea cup on the nightstand, emboldened by the almost casual banter between them, and shifts closer to her. "Oh, is that what you imagined I was doing? Very presumptuous, Miss Granger."

"Deductive," she counters. "I presume very little."

She has leaned closer, their banter preceding their movements, each word closing the space. "Tomorrow," he says, reaching his hand to her face, running his fingertips along her cheek, "I want to take you somewhere."

Hermione swallows, her throat bobbing gently, and she asks on a whisper, "where?"

Cupping her jaw in both hands, Draco runs his thumbs just beneath her cheekbones, watching her skin give under his touch, feeling her breath quicken against his face. "Everywhere," he exhales, pressing one soft kiss to her lips. "Everywhere we talked about. Anywhere you want to go. I want to start living, and I was hoping I could take you with me."

She whimpers. Whether it's from the kiss or its brevity, he can't say. "The shop…"

Smirking, he kisses her again, increasing the duration, but still gentle as a kitten. "So fucking practical," he accuses through affection. "You imagine I wouldn't let you come back? Temporary, Granger," he grins, letting her feel the expression with barely a brush of lips. "Eventually, I want to go to the manor," he admits, trying hard not to let sorrow colour the sentiment, but knowing he needs to seek closure there. "Then, maybe in a few days, I want to see something new, and I want you to be with me."

Draco feels her body jump slightly, and he's horrified to realize it was a sob, kept under wraps and trying to escape. He pulls back to search her eyes, finding them glassy and wet, but sees her smiling at him. "You have a house in France," she offers. "Wards are down."

He laughs a little, kissing her once again and wrapping his arms around her to pull her close. "Anywhere you want, pretty witch. I'll send the elves to ready it for us."

This time, it is Hermione who moves forward, pillowing his bottom lip between hers. "We can decide tomorrow," she says, barely finishing the thought before rising onto her knees and throwing one leg over his lap.

Draco's hands move to her hips, and he agrees, muffled against her, "tomorrow."

They make no plans that night, nor much into the next morning. Words are reduced to nothing between them. When Draco reaches his hand beneath her shirt to cup the underside of her breast, she says, "yes", and little else. When Hermione presses her core down against him, grinding herself into his lap, he murmurs her name against her lips, and nothing more needs to be said.

They move without instruction or discussion or requests. For a love that was first built on words, they find equal intimacy without them. Draco knows one day he will ask her to talk to him. Tomorrow or days from now, in the French estate or an Australian hotel or laid out on the sands of a private beach, he will come undone at the sound of her voice and the illicit quality of her thoughts. He will instruct her to beg, or plead with her in turn, their every fantasy come to life and made of flesh.

But this time, this first time, he feels her without considering the words to describe it, finding the places where her curves fit against his planes by natural compulsion alone.

He slides one hand to her neck beneath her curls, finding her neck damp, her skin glistening with a combination of exertion and control. Neither closes their eyes, lips parted, and they never move from their position. Her thighs settled on either side of his, Draco's hand laid against her hip, encouraging her movements and signaling his thrusts.

She doesn't look away when she comes, shuddering around him and nearly sobbing with the relief of it. Her eyes drag him down with her. He is whispering her name and praising her and feeling like he can fall apart because she will always catch his pieces.

"I love you," He says, panting into her neck. "Hermione, I love you. Fuck…" He's spent… exhausted and sweating, and still a ball of emotion, but all of it is tempered by a euphoria, by peace in her embrace.

He feels her smile, her lips pressed against his hairline. "I love you, Draco. Tomorrow… I'll follow you anywhere you want to go."

Draco nods, scooping her into his arms and laying them down gently. His eyes are heavy, and he lies there, blinking at her in silence, as she stares, equally drowsy, right back.

"Anywhere you want…" she whispers again, seeming to be nearly asleep in spite of her attempts to assure him.

"Anywhere," he agrees softly, meaning simply that it doesn't matter. That she is everything, and that his world, whether the entirety of Britain or a painted room in a gilded frame, is perfectly acceptable as long as she is in it.

They sleep until dawn, never moving, noses nearly touching and lips barely apart. When tomorrow comes, and the next, they will follow each other, neither caring at all where they go.


So this WAS the end... briefly. But there were a few things I had wanted to do, some of which have been requested by LightofEvolution and by some of you in reviews. So there is one more chapter to go and it is one of the longest of the story.

I know I've said it and I'm sure you know it... but I appreciate you all so very much. I hope you are enjoying this story even half as much as I am enjoying hearing from you :)