Author's Note: To my rude guest reviewer (which, btw, I just delete rude guest reviews these days) who said my author's notes are "inconsistent" and for me "to go back and reread the author's notes," I'd like for you to read the one at the bottom of Chapter 29. It reads, "A lot of this is set-up for the third part of this story, but it's all important, so please be patient dear readers…" Now, there were, in fact, 44 chapters left, at the time, of this particular iteration of Dramione's story—not necessarily of "The Princess and the Pariah." Psst, if you still aren't picking up what I'm putting down, there's a third part in this series where the rest of the chapters reside. I did change it to 1999 on the photos, so I will take responsibility for that. But there are no inconsistencies in a plot that hasn't even begun yet, dear reader. Only the speculations of Harry and Hermione on what they THINK is happening.

Chapter 38:

"More fan mail, I presume?" Hermione asked, sliding onto the bench next to Draco at the end of the Gryffindor table.

Draco glanced up from his Potions text, a spoon of porridge halfway to his mouth and shrugged. "I suppose."

"Well, open it so we can see what kind of insults, promises and dowries are being offered for your hand in marriage," she urged, spooning fresh strawberries and cream into a bowl.

As much as Hermione had enjoyed teasing Draco in the nearly two months since the article about him had run in the Daily Prophet, she truly felt relieved at the positive support it had brought to the Malfoy family. Sure, he still received letters condemning him for the choices he made, for Dumbledore's death, for being weak minded. But the majority of the feedback had been in his favor. Each day, she worked with him in an attempt to bring comfort to him and ease his mind that their life together was not going to be as terrible as he previously thought. And these pale pink envelopes scented with sweet floral perfumes and letters encouraging him to hold his head high were proof.

Draco closed his book and took the top envelope, while she took the second. He read over the letter's contents quickly. "There is a wizard in Poland willing to offer me anything my heart desires if I would give him my whole heart," he drawled lazily.

"Ah, well a witch in Birmingham who wants to, and I quote, 'light that self-righteous little bint's stupidly frizzy hair on fire.' Oh, and you 'deserve a real woman, not someone who can't pry her nose out of a book long enough to notice the gorgeous man before her,'" Hermione told him with a laugh, crumpling the letter to add to the others.

"What would she say, I wonder, if she knew precisely how you noticed me last night?" he cooed near her ear, skimming his nose along her throat tantalizingly before he returned to his stack of post.

"Between the sheer desperation and ridiculous offers these witches—"

"And wizards," he interjected.

"And wizards are offering for your hand in marriage or for the opportunity to run their fingers through those silken locks," she commented, wrinkling her nose at the letter she held in her hand, "you would think the entire world had gone barmy."

"You wouldn't offer me, what was it yesterday? Oh yes, fifty-three nifflers and a pear tree, for my hand in marriage?" he asked her, placing his hand on her thigh as he lit the unopened letters on fire.

Hermione tossed the letter into the stack with the others and listened to the satisfying hiss of it burning before raising her eyebrow. "I can't compete with fifty-three nifflers and a pear tree or anything, but I think my love and undying adoration should be enough to get you through life."

"Too right you are, pretty witch," he told her, leaning in to place open mouthed kisses along her neck.

"Mr. Malfoy! I know it is nearly the end of the term and that you are relieved to have the NEWTs behind you and that there is only two days left before you lot are free, but can you please refrain from necking in my Dining Hall? If I see it again, you'll do detention for the final two nights," Headmistress McGonagall chided, giving him a severe look when he had the sense to look sheepish.

"Sorry, Headmistress. Won't happen again," he replied, eyes downcast at the table, though Hermione could see he was fighting a laugh.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him and then turned on her heel to head toward the Professor's table. Draco scoffed a chuckle and brought his lips to Hermione's neck once more. "Necking. How 1953."

Draco finally leaned away from Hermione, who covered her laugh with a hand over her mouth. "You think it's funny, do you?" he asked, running a hand over her knee, his fingers playing under the hem of her skirt. "I don't need to go to detention, but I can certainly punish you for your part in this."

Hermione felt her heart begin to thrum at the innuendo and swatted his hand away haughtily. "I sat here like the prim little princess that I am. I have no idea what you're talking about, Malfoy."

The blond groaned his frustration and spooned the last of his cold porridge into his mouth in two bites. "I've got to head to the greenhouses to help Professor Sprout replant that hissing hydrangea before Potions. I'd better head out—walk with Weasley to class."

"See you soon then," she replied, retrieving her own text for a bit of light reading.

Draco kissed the top of her head and strode away. Hermione watched as he walked away, a small smile on her lips. Her eyes then turned to the group of Slytherins at the end of their table. Since Pansy's murder, they had been silent—no one had said a single word to Draco, no one taunted him mercilessly, there were no rounds of Straight to Azkaban sung as he walked down the corridors between classes. Hermione had to bite her tongue every time they were around—they had no doubt fed all of the lies to Violette Parkinson about Draco's "bullying" of Pansy.

Without their little ringleader, they had turned sullen and brooding. The school had enacted a policy in the wake of Pansy's death that no one was to be out past curfew—eight o' clock. No one was to travel the corridors alone after the last class of the day dismissed. The library had begun closing at half seven, a fact that had been agitating when they had needed to study for NEWTs. Though her death was not necessarily grieved by many people—an unpleasant side effect of having a rancid personality—it did put everyone on edge.

Draco had insisted that she walk either with him or with Ginny to each class and never let her out of his sight. He had insisted his mother and Alya keep out of the public eye as much as possible, and to Hermione's knowledge, the only time Narcissa left the villa was when she was hunting for a home for the young couple. Even then, she was escorted by no less than three house elves, who insisted they travel with her.

Hermione rose and moved down the table when she saw Ginny stand to head to Potions. "Gin—wait for me."

The redhead gave her a broad smile and wrapped her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Still going to class as a formality after NEWTs is really hindering my Quidditch-practicing time. But I'm sure you're just aflutter with excitement at that inanity we'll face in Potions today, huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned. "I hear Slughorn's going to create a little competition for the students. Whoever creates the best hypnotizingdraught gets a box full of various potions. I overheard one of the Ravenclaws say that her box contained a healthy supply of lust potions."

"Lust potions, eh?" Ginny asked, suddenly intrigued. "I wish I were better at brewing, then."

Hermione laughed, and they chattered excitedly as they entered the class. The desks had been arranged into a U-shape, with a single high-top table in the middle. There were a few neatly wrapped boxes sitting atop—prizes no doubt. They sat side by side at the closest table and Hermione felt the instant Draco walked through the door behind her. His magic called happily to hers as he brushed his fingertips along her neck in passing.

Draco went to the table directly across from Hermione, sitting next to Daphne. Hermione's eyes wandered to where Theo sat, staring blankly at the floor. Since his departure from Azkaban, Draco and Theo's friendship had been strained, to say the least. That unsettled and harsh reality had bled into his relationship with Daphne and the two had officially called it quits a week prior. Though she had never truly been fond of the burly wizard, she found herself feeling sorry for Theo. Draco was convinced Theo had something to do with Pansy's death, and no amount of arguing had changed his mind. Of course, Theo's initial reaction—"About time someone finally put her out of our misery"—had not helped his case any.

At night, his hand clasped in Hermione's, Draco would speak of his broken heart. He felt betrayed and hurt by his friend's perceived actions. She had told him of the photographs she had seen in the Ministry the day he was released, but Draco felt strongly that the photographer was not Pansy's killer and had stumbled upon her body by mere happenstance. She was the first known death in a string of disappearances—both Irena Karkaroff and Raven Selwyn's bodies had yet to be located. His theory—a third to add to Hermione's ever-growing confusion—was that Minuet was a pervert who got his jollies off by photographing young witches. Not the kidnaper or killer himself.

Slughorn's voice pulled Hermione out of her state of sympathy and she looked away from Theo Nott. "Class, as this is your last time with me, I hoped to make it memorable. I think it's positively silly for you all to still be required to sit through my class, so I have created a fun little contest for you all. Whoever can brew the most potent and effective hypnotization draught will win one of my little gift packages here. Each gift package includes an assortment of fun potions."

Draco's eyes found Hermione's and he gave her a positively lascivious grin—he had clearly heard the rumors of a lust potion being included in these gift packages. Hermione suppressed a grin as she looked back to the teacher, her cheeks a flushed shade of pink. Ginny rolled her eyes. "We all know you'll be reaping the benefits of that package tonight—Malfoy is the best Potions student to come out of Hogwarts in fifty years!"

Hermione hummed her agreement, a swell of pride in Ginny's compliment making her heart nearly jump into her throat. "He knows it, too. Believe me."

"He did obtain that apprenticeship in gay ol' Paree," Ginny noted, pulling her cauldron closer to herself to begin pouring in the solvent.

"As long as his NEWTs are top marks, he has it. And honestly, he has studied even more than I have. I don't think he slept more than an hour a night in months," Hermione told her, watching her wizard work with practiced ease and agility from across the room.

"So you didn't dumb yourself down for him to have the chance to beat your marks?" Ginny questioned, beginning to chop her caterpillar carcass into thirds.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "He wouldn't let me. Made me promise to allow him to win top of the class all on his own."

"How do you think he did?" Ginny asked her, as Hermione turned to pour two drops of inhibition lowering elf wine into her cauldron.

"When I looked at him during our Arithmancy NEWT, his parchment was a full four inches longer than mine, and he writes smaller than I do. And I legitimately was not trying to write less—he threatened to make me show him my memories to make sure," she explained, once again looking to where Draco was.

He had finished adding the ingredients into his cauldron and was stirring it all, checking its consistency and color carefully. Hermione hoped like hell that he had made top marks. With all of the work and preparation he had put into it, he deserved that apprenticeship.

An hour later, Slughorn was eyeing each cauldron full of hypnotizing draught. Draco was sitting back in his chair, his arms crossed smugly as Slughorn inspected his work. "Well, done, young Malfoy. Well done, indeed. And where is your textbook?"

"It's all up here, Professor," Draco told him arrogantly, tapping his temple.

Slughorn praised him once more before moving along to the other side of the classroom. He looked at Ginny's, a pale pink where it should have been fuchsia and tutted. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione's and gave her a smile. "A finely made potion. Nearly as good as Mister Malfoy's."

"Nearly, Professor?" Ginny asked from beside Hermione, looking into the cauldron.

"Yes. Nearly. The scent is not nearly aromatic enough to be as potent as the perfectly executed potion your beau made, Miss Granger."

He moved along to the next table and Hermione caught sight of Draco's smug grin, even more pronounced as he gave her an arrogant wink. She fought her own grin and lifted her chin defiantly in the air. "It would appear that Draco has, in fact, created the finest cauldron of hypnotizing draught. In any one of my classes thus far. A gift, for you," Slughorn told him, handing him a neatly wrapped silver box. "Use these potions wisely."

Ginny snorted a laugh next to Hermione, who felt her face turn scarlet as she tucked her chin to stare at the desk. "Now, let us select a guinea pig with which to test this potion…ah, Mister Longbottom? Are you feeling particularly brave today?" Slughorn asked the Gryffindor.

"S-sure," Neville stuttered, standing from his position at the desk and heading to sit in a chair Slughorn had conjured in the middle of the room. "Nothing too embarrassing, right?"

"Fear not, young Neville. I won't have you stripping into your skivvies in the middle of class," the Professor replied, spooning some of Draco's draught into a goblet.

Neville sniffed the potion before he drank it down. They watched as his eyes glazed over and his features became serene. "Neville, can you hear my voice?" Slughorn asked quietly.

He nodded slowly. "Yes sir."

"Stand and bow to the class."

Neville stood and bowed deeply before raising up and smiling demurely. "Can anyone tell me why this particular potion may be considered dangerous?" the Professor questioned.

"It could mimic, in the short term, the Imperius Curse," Hermione told them all, watching as Slughorn instructed Neville to quack like a duck.

"Precisely. Please, Neville, sing us a verse or two of your favorite lullaby," the Professor told him.

As Neville began to sing—There's a Pixie in My Pocket, of all songs—Hermione looked across the class once more to her betrothed. He was watching Neville with a bemused look on his face and appeared to be at ease for once. He sensed her watching him and his grey eyes turned to her once more, his mouth curving into a half-smile.

Hermione felt an unconditional, burning love welling up within her heart as she watched him stare at her with equal fervor and awe. How had they fallen so deeply in love? If someone had told her when she had climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express last September, that by the end of the school year, she would be irreversibly and madly in love with Draco Malfoy, she would have thought them barmy. But there was no denying her feelings, the surge of pride, respect and love she felt for Draco every time she locked eyes with him.

o-o-o

"I can't believe we're leaving here soon. It's surreal," Hermione lamented, packing her trunk with a few loose odds and ends.

"I, for one, am relieved to be the hell away from this place. I'm ready for the next chapter of our lives to begin. I feel like I've been in school forever," Draco quipped, handing her a framed photo to tuck away.

"I agree. It's still a little sad though. To think that we'll never sit together in the library here and study Arithmancy. Or walk along the Black Lake in autumn," she replied quietly, her heart feeling heavy.

She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, leaning back on her palms as the melancholy washed over her. Draco shook his head. "No, no. We will not be disheartened this evening, my gorgeous little witch," Draco told her, pulling his tie seductively from his collar and putting it around her shoulders.

Hermione shivered at the feel of the silk and leaned forward, kissing his clothed chest once. "I cannot believe Slughorn actually included a lust potion in the gift package. Highly inappropriate to give to students."

"Ah, we are only students by way of formality. For all intents and purposes, we have already graduated. He just wanted a variety of fun potions in the box. There's also a pepper-up, made with tobasco, a potion that will change the pitch of your voice to make it sound like you've been exposed to helium, a few that will make firecrackers explode from your ears. A box of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes style gag gifts, really," he explained, lifting vials from the box.

He finally lifted on that had a milky pink consistency, shimmering with gold glitter. "But this one," he began, uncorking the top, "is a very interesting potion. It cannot make you lust after someone. It only heightens the feelings that already reside within."

Her wizard's grin was positively feral as he tipped his head back and drank half and then handed the other half to her. "And it tastes like strawberry ice cream."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and tipped the remainder back in one swallow. "Good girl," Draco complimented, leaning over her legs where she sat to kiss her.

The potion worked through her veins and she felt a heat rising within her, starting at the tips of her toes and spreading through every inch of her body. Hermione was not entirely sure, but she suspected that even her individual strands of her hair were warming up as well. "Just think, love, in three nights, we will be living in the townhouse my mother purchased for us…our own little home. Where I can cook you breakfast and then ravish you on the counter," he whispered, skimming his nose along her collarbone.

Hermione's mind became a cloudy haze after that, their bodies entangled and their breathing ragged. She knew there was not a damn thing in this world better than being with him, their bodies, souls and magic sharing a deep connection.

o-o-o

A/N: So. They have a house…and they'll be moving in soon. Hmm… I thought we needed a lighthearted chapter after those last couple of heavy ones, don't you? Thank you to those who have read and reviewed this. Please review.