Harry had known Malfoy for years. He had seen the spoiled, bigoted brat and the arrogant teenager. He had even seen an adoring man trying to sacrifice his own life for the woman he couldn't take his eyes off.

That final one still made him rather nauseous.

Harry had not expected to witness yet another facet of Draco Malfoy. The blonde cast his calculating eyes over the pair of wizards who were clearly failing to intimidate. For the first time Harry began to see something distinctly inhuman in the face of the former Death Eater and he couldn't even articulate what he was seeing.

"What would you do to keep her safe?" Malfoy asked coldly.

"Whatever is needed," Ron replied without hesitation.

"Even if she ended up hating you for it?"

Harry didn't like the direction the conversation was heading in, "With the right reason, yes. She didn't ask us to come talk to you; we just knew she'd be unhappy while you were out here feeling sorry for yourself. She's probably going to yell at us."

Draco stared at a nearby tree and flexed his hands. Harry watched the claws slide out of his fingertips.

"The diary was a summary of the life of a male Veela who emerged in 1452," Draco growled, "He found his mate and she was already married; to a Malfoy ironically enough. He slowly went insane from having to deny his urges."

Harry shared a quick glance with Ron. The redhead was prone to overreacting when Hermione was involved and Harry didn't want to have to try to restrain him if they heard something shocking.

"He kidnapped his mate and tried to kill her husband," Draco revealed with an inhuman growl, "When he failed he raped her and then killed himself. I have nine months at most before I need to be put down."

Ron gulped and kept his mouth closed. The immature part of him wanted to claim victory and announce to the world that he had been right all along about Malfoy. After about a second he realized he was no longer eleven. Though galling to admit, he was sure Malfoy would cut his own head off before trying to rape Hermione. Clearly the blonde wasn't as sure about his future.

Harry did not want to say what he was thinking. He pushed aside his pride and swore if either of the two wizards repeated what he was about to say he would obliviated them without hesitation.

"Malfoy, I'll be shocked if you haven't claimed and marked Hermione by her birthday in September," Harry admitted with a frown, "You seem to think she is a fragile flower who will run away if she realizes you want to get her naked. Did you forget that she stood up to Voldemort, Death Eaters and everyone who has ever annoyed her?"

The claws slowly receded.

"I don't want to talk about Hermione getting naked with anyone," Ron moaned, "I can't wash my brain."

"I agree with you Ron but clearly this git is pretty thick-headed," Harry said with a pointed glare at the blonde, "Seriously, if she hasn't dragged you into the bedroom before Christmas I'll eat the Sorting Hat."

Laughter bubbled up within Ron before he could try to counteract it. Harry just rolled his eyes while Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"I just had this image of you sitting in the Great Hall trying to stuff the Sorting Hat into your gob while it babbles for mercy," Ron gasped.

The laughter was infectious. Draco watched the two friends roll onto their sides while gasping for air. They were utterly ridiculous.

Draco envied them, though he would Avada himself before every admitting it to them. The friendship they shared seemed so strong and effortless. The closest he had come to a true friendship was probably Pansy; Theo was such a private person that it was hard to decide how close they really were.

"It's pretty bloody old," Potter laughed, "It would need some salt."

The pair were struggling to recover from laughing hard enough to cause tears to stream down their cheeks. Draco knew he could never let out his emotions so easily after years of training to hide them.

"I tell you of my fear that I will lose control and rape your best friend, and you two end up laughing about a hat," Draco sneered, "How could anyone this incompetent defeat anyone?"

Potter was frowning again, "Lighten up Malfoy. The war stuffed up out childhoods but I'll be damned if I forget how to laugh."

"You are too uptight," Weasley agreed, "I'm betting that Hermione will get you into bed before Halloween. The thought alone makes me cringe so can we just move along?"

Only the instincts of the Veela allowed Draco to push aside the years of training to never ask for help.

"Weasley; if I lose my mind and try to hurt Hermione I want you to promise that you'll kill me."

Potter gaped at the blonde while the redhead simply stared.

"You're serious?" Weasley realized.

The idiocy of the two of them was indescribable. Draco's hand twitched around his wand.

"Dead serious," he growled.

"You won't get that far," Potter decided.

"But if I do I want your word that you will not let me hurt her," Draco said, still staring at Weasley.

"Fine, I promise," Weasley agreed, "You're such a drama queen Malfoy."

"Why not me?" Potter wondered.

"You got to kill Voldemort," Weasley protested, "It's my turn."

Potter pouted, "If you get to kill Malfoy, I want front row tickets."

Draco rolled his eyes at their moronic tendencies. Had the Dark Bastard still been alive, he would die from the shame of having been defeated by such dunderheads.

"Why me?" Weasley wondered.

The cold grey eyes surveyed the pair of them, "Potter would hesitate. You won't."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione could sense that Draco needed some time to process what he had learned, so he could realize for himself how different the situation was. She knew that seeking him out herself would cloud the issue and heighten his emotional distress. Once he regained his composure and stopped doubting himself she planned to approach him. She had let Ginny talk her into visiting Dromeda and Narcissa, though the redhead clearly had ulterior motives.

Teddy grabbed a handful of red hair and gurgled happily. Ginny gently tugged her hair out of his small fist and shifted him in her arms.

"You've got that look in your eyes Ginny," Dromeda noted.

They were sitting around the living room of the Tonks house sipping tea.

"What look?"

"The baby look," Narcissa explained, "You're getting clucky."

"Watch out Teddy," Hermione whispered loudly, "She wants to kidnap you and take you home."

George studied his sister with a frown, "He couldn't be any more annoying than Ron."

"You can have the next nappy duty then," Dromeda laughed, "Dear Merlin he can cause a mess."

Ginny grinned as the baby changed his hair to match hers.

"Now he could pass as a Weasley," Hermione laughed.

"Have you thought about having children Hermione?" Narcissa asked in a deceptively casual tone.

Dromeda rolled her eyes, "Subtle Cissy. Why not just drawn up a Marriage Contract right now?"

"What makes you think I haven't already?"

"Keep your plans to yourself," Dromeda ordered, "Once a child has fought a war and come of age, they are allowed to ignore all dating advice from drunk adults."

"I am not drunk!" Narcissa argued, "Not until this evening anyway."

"Don't take her crap Hermione," Dromeda advised the younger witch, "No matter what rubbish she says, just threaten to have children out of wedlock and she'll shut-up."

"Andromeda!" Narcissa cried, "Stop giving my future daughter-in-law tips like that!"

Dromeda only laughed at her outrage.

"Where did Mum and Dad go?" George asked with a frown.

"Out," Dromeda replied sneakily.

"That doesn't make sense; they said they were visiting here," Hermione said worriedly.

Narcissa smiled, "Well, sometimes a couple needs alone time. With a house full of teenagers, it is hard to -"

"Stop right there," Dromeda interrupted her sister, "How much of that wine have you had?"

Ginny was staring at the two of them in horror, "Mum and Dad snuck off somewhere to have sex?"

Hermione giggled into her hands while George paled noticeably.

"They're too old," George protested, "They don't, they can't!"

Dromeda and Narcissa were laughing openly at the disgust the two Weasley siblings were displaying.

"I assure you that they do," Dromeda chuckled, "They're only in their forties! They have decades of -"

"I need some Firewhiskey," George moaned.

"I wish I was deaf," Ginny decided.

"Don't be so dramatic," Dromeda admonished, "Isn't it nice to know that in fifty years you and Harry will still be sneaking off to have some -"

"Don't say it," Hermione cried.

"I was going to say 'some time alone'," Dromeda laughed, "Teenager are so high strung these days."

"You two are nuts," Ginny muttered.

Hermione had been diligently avoiding thoughts about the third Black sister who haunted her nightmares. Ginny's comment triggered memories which caused her jovial mood to vanish. She was sure she could manage the attack until Dromeda laughed. It was a sincere sound but her resemblance to her insane sister tipped Hermione over the edge of her control.

The playful conversation continued while she struggled to retain her composure. She felt her heart rate speed up uncomfortably. Hermione focused on her breathing and let her eyes fixate on her cup of tea. The pattern on the side of the cup shuddered as her eyes struggled to focus. She could feel the tightening in her chest which always pissed her off; she hated feeling less than capable.

Ginny reached out to touch Hermione's shoulder with concern. She recognised the symptoms of an anxiety attack; they were quite common at the Burrow since the war.

Hermione barely recognised the warm arm which sought to comfort her. She did not hear the words offering support. She did not hear the fireplace whoosh or the new arrival curse at the ash on his clothing.

Awareness began to creep back in after she was lifted onto a secure lap and enclosed by a pair of strong arms. She was being rocked like a small child and the motion was oddly soothing.

"Draco?" she realized.

The grey eyes she had assumed would always be so cold were more expressive than she had every realized.

"I'm here," he replied softly. His hand began stroking her hair.

Usually someone would ask if she was 'alright' after an attack. She always felt like they were really asking if she could act normal so they could forget the trauma she was trying to live with.

"You're not going to ask if I'm 'alright'?" she joked feebly.

He raised one eyebrow, "None of us are 'alright', my Sweet. We simply are."

"Where's the Firewhiskey?" George demanded loudly, "Malfoy is getting poetic; I should be allowed to get completely off my face."

Harry stepped out of the fireplace wearing an expression of concern. His eyes darted around the room as he moved forward to clear the path. Ron arrived moments later.

"Is everyone alright?" Harry asked worriedly, his eyes on Hermione, "Malfoy took off like Buckbeak was after him again."

"I'm not alright and I never will be again," George declared, "These sisters are telling awful, and clearly untrue things about my parents; who are clearly celibate as they are over thirty."

Ron stared at his brother with wide eyes, "What?"

Dromeda smiled at the youngest Weasley brother, "Your parents have nipped off for some alone time. For some reason, the idea that they might be still sexually active alarmed young George."

"Where's Buckbeak when you need to make a quick escape?" Harry muttered.

Ron paled, which made his freckles stand out alarmingly, "They don't; they can't. No."

"That's what I said!" George cried, "The matter is settled; you're wrong Dromeda. I love you as an Aunt but you are clearly completely incorrect in this case."
Dromeda rolled her eyes, "Sure."

Narcissa was watching her son and his mate. Thoughts of marriage and future babies had been overshadowed by the memory of the young witch screaming under the wand of Bellatrix.

"My future daughter-in-law clearly needs some soothing attention from you Draco," she said aloud.

Draco nodded, "I should head back anyway so the Ministry doesn't think I'm trying to escape or something."

George held out his glass, which had previously contained orange juice, "Firewhiskey? I'm begging you!"