A/N: I do not own Harry Potter

Firstly, I want to thank you all for being great readers, great reviewers and I want to thank Neji who has been my beta, and a great beta at that!

Welcome to the definitive chapter, the last stop, and any choices I make now are final. There will be no more cliffhangers! I hope you enjoy the resolution I went with; I think there will be some disappointment either way because I have had Lumione and Dramione fans love this.

Beta: Neji

Trigger Warnings: POV change; skewed perspectives; adultery; hints at potentially abusive behaviour

Note: I have had an anonymous review that felt that this story glamorised the negative aspects of these relationships. This is not the intent, and in my mind, all characters have accepted their wrongdoing and work through this in a healthy manner

Resolutions from the Vault

'I'm sorry,' I said.

I felt Hermione freeze in my arms, and then she melted. She pulled my arms tightly around her, and I couldn't help it; my lips found her neck, and I peppered her with light kisses. I felt as her hands reached back, and her fingers ran through my hair.

She pulled away and turned around with a look of horror on her face.

'Lucius? What on earth are you doing?' Her eyes were wide, her arms covering her chest, as though she were ashamed. She backed up off of the sofa and put more distance between us.

'I came to see you. Draco has all but abandoned you; I had to make sure you were okay. I saw what he did, leaving you heartbroken.

'He'll never have you back, Hermione. The only reason you're here is that I changed my will. You have equal ownership of the manor.'

She shook her head, trying to deny everything that I had said. She stood with her back against the wall, and I saw the pain, the effect my words had on her. They might be true.

'We can be happy,' I said. I wanted to convince her. I had to know how she felt; I had to see the truth.

'No!' she said. Her voice was firm, and she no longer looked wary.

She balled her hands into fists, and her face showed no trace of the sadness I saw before. She was furious. I had to know: was there a chance?

'Hermione…' I walked over to her, slowly, trying not to startle her. 'Please.' I reached her hand, cupping her face. I watched her expression soften, and her eyes closed. She melted. Was there a chance?

I leaned in, my eyes focused on her petite, pink lips. I was just about to press my lips to hers when I felt pressure on my chest.

'I said, "no", Lucius!'

She pushed me back. When I glanced up, I saw the tears in her eyes. I knew that she wanted it; she just needed me to convince her.

'He'll never forgive you,' I said, 'so why deprive yourself?'

Her tears then started to fall.

'Because I love him. I would rather put all my hope in him and endure the disappointment of failure than have one more moment with you and lose him forever.'

I thought she meant it. She seemed so sure, but maybe— I walked over to her again, closing the distance she created. I wrapped my arms around her, and she let me.

'I love you too.'

'But I don't love you.' She stayed where she was as she said it, her head buried in my black velvet robes. 'You don't understand,' she continued. 'You had your love. You and Cissy had a whole life together; a life full of love and passion. Draco and I had about five years, maybe six. I won't give up on that.

'He's my everything. I would rather have nothing, and still have hope for him.'

I glanced at the clock. There was time.

'He'll never know, I promise.'

'Yes, he would. I would tell him.' She backed up again and wiped away her tears. She didn't look torn at all.

'Hermione…'

She turned and left. I stood there waiting for her, wondering if she would come back. She did, and she carried a velvet box, holding it out to me.

'This is for you,' she said. 'I don't want to be the girl you want but can't have anymore.'

I opened the box. There was the necklace, white gold with delicate diamond flowers. It was the necklace that belonged on the neck of a queen. I pocketed it.

I knew.

'You should go,' she said. 'I won't tell Draco this time, but if you come back again, I will tell him.'

I was so focused on her face, trying to decipher any lie, any reason to doubt. She was furious, and I believed every word she said.

'You would keep tonight to yourself?' I asked.

'Just this once, and only because I hate myself for coming between you and Draco. You don't deserve it, Lucius.'

I smiled, and it broke my character. I couldn't help it; my time was running out anyway.

'Go!' she shouted. 'Stop standing there like you've won! You haven't. You don't win. Go away!'

She didn't see what I already felt. My flesh and bone were shifting and changing. It was easy to see when it registered, her face.

Her guard dropped. There was a brief look of confusion and then her wide eyes and the way her jaw dropped showed her realisation.

I was changing. My long silver hair crawled up my back, my cheekbones shifted just a little higher, and I felt my father's more pronounced jaw recede.

Tears started to fall from her eyes as she realised who I was.

'Draco?' Her lips trembled, and she frowned, creasing her brow—angry. 'Why?'

'I— I needed to know.' I knew what I had done had hurt her, but… 'I had to know, I'm sorry.'

She laughed at that. 'You tried very hard to convince me to sleep with you while polyjuicing as your father! But you're sorry. I guess that's okay then!'

'If you had said yes, I wouldn't have gone through with it!'

'I guess I'll have to trust you on that one.' She folded her arms and looked down at me. She looked good with the moral high ground. 'You know, if I reported you, you could get convicted of an attempted sex crime!'

'I know; I'm an Auror.' I hoped she would see my side.

'Why? Is this punishment? And don't give me that "I needed to know" bullshit. Tell me why. Exactly why.'

'Because as much as I want you back, all I can see is him. I'm always wondering, would you do it again? Now, I know. I know you wouldn't.' I looked at her pleadingly. 'Can you understand that?'

She said nothing.

'I thought, since you are far more forgiving than me, breaking your trust was worth the risk. I thought it might bring us back together, Hermione.'

'So, you're taking advantage of my forgiving nature? What if I don't want to be that person? What if I can't forgive when you're manipulating me into it?' She turned her back to me, and I imagined she was furious but thankful. I hoped she was thankful.

'There was no other way.' It was a pathetic cliche, and I knew it. It was all I had.

She laughed, but it wasn't bright and airy. It was hollow and cynical. 'This is fucked up!'

'I know.'

'Seriously, Draco. This relationship is toxic. The only way we can trust each other is through manipulation, coercion, and hurting each other more and more. What am I supposed to do now? I'm so angry that I want to pay you back; I want you to feel as violated as I feel.'

'Violated?' I felt the anger start to rise, deep trenches that travelled across my brow, and I wondered how she had the nerve. 'You think you say "no" to sex once and all of a sudden I have no moral standing?'

When she turns around, she glares at me. 'And what if I wanted to have sex with your father and not you? What if I saw you change partway through your little test? It would be rape, Draco. I don't know about you, but that certainly trumps adultery!'

'YOU KNOW I WOULD NEVER!' I couldn't help but shout, her words only added to the fury that had built inside of me.

'There are so many ways you could have done this, but this is what you chose. I know you're angry, and you want to punish me, so how do I know you wouldn't go that far? We don't have trust anymore. I know, I started this, and now I'm going to finish it. I'm not letting us become this abusive couple. My daughter deserves more.'

I was shocked. I believed everything she had said. She had broken us, but I had destroyed us.

She walked away, and I thought that was the end.

I stood outside Ron and Lavender's little house. It was a quaint country cottage, modest, and there was a time when I would have mocked that. Instead, I found myself hovering on the doorstep, wary of what Ron and Lavender would make of the mess that I had made. I had to force myself to knock and wait for Ron to answer.

'What on earth did you do?'

That was the first thing Ron said when he opened the door to me. He looked half amused and half angry. The only thought that registered was that this is where Hermione had come.

'You've seen her?' I asked.

'Yeah. She was pissed! She accused me of giving you the brain dead idea.' He opened the door wider, allowing me into the house.

'I didn't think it was that bad. I thought when she realised I was over the whole cheating thing, it would be okay.'

Ron rolled his eyes. He was a smug bastard sometimes. He loved it when he was right; he liked to rub his "rightness" in your face. He was about as unbearable as Hermione.

'Well, I had nothing else. I mean, it wasn't that bad. It's not like we would have done anything…'

I followed Ron into the immaculate house. Lavender was in the kitchen, cleaning and wiping up surfaces. She looked up, and I smiled. I think that's the first time she has ever looked at me with such venom.

'Lavender has been talking to Hermione about it. They've been able to understand each other—you know—because of Greyback.'

I was shocked that what I had done had even been compared to that, to an attack so vicious.

'What? What I did was nothing like that! I love Hermione. I just needed to trust her again.'

Lavender looked at me, dead in the face. 'There are so many ways you could have dealt with this, Draco. You chose to make her vulnerable, to take advantage of her! Just because you didn't lay a finger on her, doesn't mean it's not a violation!'

'Lav— please!' I pleaded. 'I didn't mean it like that. You know I love her.'

Tears welled up in Lavender's eyes. 'That only makes it worse.'

I didn't know what to do, what to say. This house had become so comfortable to me lately, like a second home. Now, I doubted that Lavender would allow me to stay much longer, never mind make me a cup of coffee.

'What do I do?' I asked.

She pulled a mug out of a cupboard. 'Time. I think she knows why, and I even think she understands. It doesn't change how betrayed she feels, even if she knows you would have never done anything.

'I know you never wanted to hurt her. I know you just wanted to trust her and to be able to move on. You want to have your family back. It's just going to take time.

'I'm still angry at you though, Draco Malfoy. You do not treat your wife like that. Do you hear me?'

'Yes, of course. You'll help me make it right, though?' I pleaded with her, and eventually, her frown melted and rolled her eyes.

'Fine!' Lavender finally smiled. 'I'll even let you stay for dinner, as long as you do whatever I say?'

I was shocked. I was relieved; Lavender and Ron had been there for me so much, losing them too would have been hard. I also knew that I couldn't fix this without Lavender's help.

She continued to tell me that Hermione needed some time. I didn't think that time would be enough; Lavender had made me understand exactly why Hermione was so hurt. I was starting to believe that there was nothing I could do to make things right. After I had dinner with them, I went home.

The cottage was dark. I knocked, and there was no answer. As I walked back to the manor, I hoped that time really would heal our marriage. I left Hermione alone for a long while. I missed her and Daria. All I could think was that while I gave her space, she didn't know that I understood and that I was sorry.

Finally, Hermione let me in. I begged and pleaded. I explained myself, and that it was a bad decision, but I never wanted to hurt her. I just needed to remove my father from the equation. She still insisted that our relationship was broken—toxic.

'I know,' I said. 'That can be fixed. We can be fixed.'

'You have Lavender to thank, you know. I mean, she understood how I felt, but she also showed me that anyone could find themselves in a situation where they might do things they wouldn't usually.' Her beautiful brown eyes met mine, and finally, the force that clamped around my chest began to ease.

'She's a good friend, right?' I smiled. 'Better than Ginny!'

'I swear, I was going to tell you. Ginny just got there before me.'

Suddenly we were addressing her sins again. It made me relax, which made me sick. I knew that part of me was grateful for her guilt, but I didn't want that to be the reason she forgave me, or why I would forgive her.

'I was confused and guilty, but I was sane enough to know that you don't tell Harry Potter if you want to keep a secret.'

I laughed, and when she laughed with me, things started to feel more natural.

'That's true,' I replied. 'We can see someone. We can go to a new therapist or the same therapist. It's up to you. We'll get back what we had. It's what I want, and in my own messed up way, I was trying to fix us.'

'I know.' She reached over. 'It will take a lot of work. Both of us will have to let go of blame, the desire to punish each other. Can you do that? Can you accept that you wouldn't be able to hold it against me anymore?' She looked afraid, and I knew she felt like me, worried that we wouldn't be able to forgive each other.

'Yes.' I knew I could. 'I just needed to know it wouldn't happen again, that's all.'

'What about your father?' she asked.

'I can't.'

'If you can forgive me, then why not him?'

Hermione always liked to push me to be better, to do better. She did it at Hogwarts, in my work, in our relationship, so I was not surprised she did it now. It was a small taste of who we used to be.

'I can't.'

Fifteen Years Later...

'Daria, get your backside down here now!' Hermione yelled upstairs. The Sonorous charm carried her voice to my daughter's bedroom on the top floor.

Hermione was as beautiful as ever, even though her brown hair had strands of grey, and her eyes had more lines. She had the same slender frame, the same creamy brown skin and clear complexion. She still favoured blouses and pencil skirts as opposed to the robes that others wore.

'You know she's less likely to listen when you yell,' I said.

She shrugged. 'We're late. The ward has strict visiting hours; if we don't get there—'

'It'll be okay,' I said, wrapping my arm around her.

'It's been fifteen years, Draco. Can you forgive him? Please.'

Arguing about my father was the only thing that stood between Hermione and I. She still wanted me to let it go, to forgive the father that had had sex with my wife. I couldn't let it go, even after fifteen years.

'Can we not do this now?' I hissed. 'Daria will be down any moment.'

As if on my command, she appeared on the top of the stairs wearing the most ridiculous outfit. She was as pale as me with my grey eyes, but her long, straight hair was jet black. She had dyed it a few weeks before. I had been furious; she had looked just like my mother before, though her hair was decidedly more unruly in its natural state. Daria rarely wore her hair in its natural state.

'You get back to your room and change. Now!' I shouted.

'She's less likely to listen if you shout like that.' Hermione had almost giggled.

'Dad, you're such a loser. This is fashion; it's self-expression and your vibes… Well, they are oppressive!'

Her outfit was jet black. She wore ridiculously short jeans, which were ripped and had so many holes in them that they covered very little. Her black jumper had just as many holes in it, and the long sleeves reached past her fingers.

'I don't give a damn! You're going to see your grandfather in St Mungo's, seeing you practically nude will probably finish him off! Get changed now!'

She sulked, her lower lip drooping, a twinkle of silver caught the light.

'DID YOU PIERCE YOUR LIP?' Hermione screeched.

Daria's expression changed, and she turned. 'It's been pierced for ages.' She was likely telling the truth. She looked panicked and probably forgot to hide the latest appearance choice she had made. 'It's no big deal; Muggles do it all the time.'

'I don't care! You are not allowed to poke holes in your face without my express permission.' Hermione looked as though she was about to tackle Daria to the ground and remove the piercing herself.

'I'm sixteen!' Daria shouted. 'Soon, I'll legally be an adult, and you won't be able to stop me from expressing myself. James Potter likes it.'

'James Potter? Why do we care what he likes?' I asked, and she smiled at me in that girlish way that told me she cared about what James Potter thought. Suddenly, I didn't really care for Harry or his family. Despite the fact that we had been friends for years and he was my boss. 'Get changed now. We're late!'

She turned around, walking up the stairs. 'Why do you care? You don't even like Pop-pop.'

'Should we be getting her a therapist?' I asked as I watched Daria leave. 'I was concerned when she started to dye her beautiful blonde hair, but now she only wants to wear black, she's piercing herself…'

'Nah. I spoke to Lavender about it. Apparently, Hugo and Daria have been listening to some Muggle "emo band". They've decided to start a band, and they want to look the part.'

'You don't need holes in your face to play music. I'm also pretty sure that you don't need to be half-naked!'

Hermione laughed. 'Thank your lucky stars she had a longer top. The other day it was the same shorts with a crop top, and she wanted to go to Hugo's. She said they were just hanging out in his room. I swear, I nearly had a heart attack.'

We stood there in silence, mainly because my daughter—my baby girl—had grown up and decided that this was who she wanted to be. I had no issue with the music, but hanging out with boys in nought but her skin was a huge concern.

'So,' Hermione said, 'about your dad… The letter… He's not got much time left, and you'll regret it if you don't. Does he deserve to die, believing that his son hates him?'

Father had been in a long-stay ward at St Mungo's for over a year. Every week we would visit. Daria would talk to him all day. She adored him, and he doted on her. Hermione would check his charts and talk to doctors. She would chastise him for whatever he was doing to make the Healers' lives more difficult. I would sit in the room and witness it all. Father and I didn't engage. We hadn't since the night I found out he slept with my wife.

'Personally, I think he deserves it.'

'Draco!'

'I do. That is how I feel, Hermione.' She didn't reply. She never pushed this topic as hard as she would push anything else. She was careful to never be on his side. 'I know I'll regret it if I don't, but I don't know if I can do it.'

Her hand slipped into mine, and she squeezed my hand. 'I'm sorry. I took him from you.'

'No, you didn't. Everything he has done throughout my life led to this. It was just the last straw.'

'Do you think he's changed? Look at his and Daria's relationship.' Usually, when Hermione soothed me, she caressed and kissed. We were a very intimate couple, but it was never like that when my father was the topic. She said it still made her feel dirty, and I hated that; I blamed Father for that, too.

'Let's just be thankful there isn't a dark lord he can hand her over to.'

I saw the look of shock on her face. I never bring this part of mine and my Father's history up. For the first time in so long, she held me while we discussed him; the one thing that had come between us.

'I'm sorry you went through that.' Her fingers ran through my hair, her nails scratched my scalp most gently, soothing. Her lips found mine, and I pulled her closer.

'For him, it's so much more,' I whispered.

'He stole your innocence; in a way, he violated you?'

I nodded and realised, yet again, that she forgave something that I refused to forgive. My wife was a marvel to me.

'Ew. That's just gross. Old people shouldn't snog; it's disgusting.'

I smiled at that, kissing her again. Daria's complaints were loud and excessive, and soon we laughed, and the weight was lifted. Hermione chastised Daria and I and ushered us to the Floo.

The hospital was very busy, but Hermione knew her way, and after the year visiting her grandfather, so did Daria. I followed them dutifully through the hospital corridors until we arrived at the private room that housed my father.

The room was decorated with items from home. It didn't look like a hospital room. Father was in bed, which was unusual. He always made an effort to sit in his favourite chair when we came. He didn't like to look weak.

His head rested on a plump white pillow; his face was gaunt and sallow. His frail hands held a book, it was a light volume, but you could see the strain it took for him to hold it. He wore a luscious green robe, his favourite, but it hung off of his tiny frame. He was barely even aware.

'Pop-pop!' Daria smiled and practically ran over to him. 'Can I sit on the bed with you?'

'Of course,' he said, his voice was faint and whispery. He was very weak. 'Anything for my little princess.'

He just about managed to wrap a frail arm around her, and he listened intently as she told him all about Hogwarts; her classes, her grades, her friends. He complimented her and smiled. He told her how she was worth her weight in gold, if not more. I remember thinking that he had changed.

The healer called Hermione and me away. She took us to a small room on the ward and offered us coffee and biscuits. She had bad news; I knew that when I saw my father's deteriorating condition.

'He's not been able to eat or drink. He's struggling, and this means that the potions that help keep him going aren't able to be taken. The potions he needs for pain relief make him sick. I'm sorry, but we don't think your father has got much time left.'

'How long?' I asked. It sounded callous like I didn't care about more about time or about his pain or wellbeing. I cared. I'm not a monster. Hermione knew what I was thinking.

'This could be your last visit with him, Mr Malfoy. My advice is to make the most of the time you have.'

My head fell into my hands, and I felt the pain of loss again. It was just the same as the night that Severus told me that my father had tried to kill himself.

'I don't want him to die.' Those few words broke me, and my tears started to fall.

'I know, but you don't know what will happen. We might be able to get him to start eating? I can do some research on intravenous potions. I know it's not got much research behind it, but it's something that might be able to help.'

'They said it would be our last visit. Just be straight with me; don't try and make me feel better.'

I just felt her hand on my back and heard her deep breath. 'I think today is the day you speak to him.'

'Like she said, we should make the most of the time we have,' I replied. I stood up and shook off the weight and pain because I knew that this would hurt Daria, and she needed me. My pain mattered little. 'We should tell Daria. She should understand that we're saying goodbye.'

'I'll get her. You take a moment, okay?'

Being alone in that room, even though it was such a short time, it was painful. Everything that had transpired between my father and me came rushing back, but so did all the good. So did the way that he changed and turned away from prejudice. I remembered him teaching me how to ride a broom, how he had soothed me when I fell. I remembered a lot. I was barely holding on when they came back.

'What's going on? Why can't you tell me with Pop-pops?' She was frustrated and angry with us for stealing her coveted time with her grandad. It only made things worse. It made what we had to say that much harder.

'I think you should sit down, Poppet.' I tried to remain composed, but my hands trembled.

'Daddy, what's wrong?' She sat down right away, her frustration gone and in its place was fear.

'It's about Pop-pops…' I began, but it was too hard.

'Daria, Grandad is very sick, and his medicine isn't working too well, but now Grandad is struggling to take his potions.'

Daria's lip trembled. 'What do you mean?' She blinked away her tears and shook her head. My daughter was not dumb, she was smart, and she knew what Hermione was trying to say. It hurt watching her process and realise that what she had feared for so long would come true.

'The Healers have said that today might be a good day to say goodbye.'

Daria said nothing. She wouldn't even look at me.

'I'm so sorry, Poppet,' I said. I pulled everything together to be strong for her. 'I wish there was something I could do, but I can't fix this for you.'

Then she got angry, which was understandable. I just hadn't expected her to be angry with me.

'Don't say sorry! You hate Pop-pops; he doesn't deserve it. You don't spend time with him or talk to him.' Tears flowed down her face. Her nose was scrunched up in rage, and her body was tensed, hard, waiting to attack whatever she deemed was to blame.

I tried to hold her, and at first, she hit me and punched me. My father and I not getting on meant that I was to blame. I told her how much I loved our family—all of our family—and eventually, she sobbed in my arms.

'I won't lie, kiddo, things haven't been good between Pop-pops and me, but I love him. This hurts so much. I ran out of time to make it right, to forgive him, and you're right; he doesn't deserve that. We need to make sure he isn't alone, though, right?'

She cried and nodded and cried some more.

'Daria, I think Dad needs to speak with Pop-pops. How about you and me go and get some drinks and see if we can convince Grandad to eat some cake?'

I sat in the room alone for a few minutes. I knew time had officially run out. Slowly, I worked myself up to going into the room and speaking to him for the first time in about fifteen years.

The walk to the room was short. When I opened the door, his head was lolled to one side; he looked like he was sleeping, and another tear escaped.

'Father,' I said, and my voice cracked.

Slowly his head rose slightly, and his heavy lids opened. The shock that I was there, alone and speaking to him was visible. His hands trembled, and he dropped the book that he had been reading.

'Draco…' His voice was weak, barely even there.

The next words were hard to get out. Every time I tried to speak, the lump in my throat expanded until it was physically painful. More tears fell.

'I forgive you.' The lump disappeared as the words came out and suddenly, wracking sobs burst out of me. I closed the distance between us, and then I was just a kid that needed his dad.

I sat on the bed and pulled him close. I felt his frail arms wrap around me; I felt them try to make me feel safe; the same way I tried to make Daria feel safe.

Father said nothing. I felt his chest heave with the weight of his sobs. I felt the tears that ran down his face on my cheek. I didn't let go.

Eventually, Daria and Hermione arrived. Daria stole my spot on the bed, which was fine by me. She told Grandad he had to hold on as long as he could.

'I've been holding on for some time, Poppet,' he said, and then he looked at me. 'I think I can go in peace now. That's okay; you know that, right? It's sad to lose someone, but you have to make sure you hold on to those that are left behind with you. Cherish them, okay, Poppet.'

We sat there talking for a while, and slowly but surely Lucius drifted in and out of consciousness. He had held on as long as he could. I believed he held on for me.

We stayed there throughout the evening. Eventually, we watched Lucius' chest rise and fall. His breathing slowed, and Hermione checked his vitals. We knew he was slowly passing away.

I held his hand until the end.

A final thank you to the reviewers that have been here with me for this journey. I have thoroughly enjoyed this story.

I am certainly a Dramione convert, and while I enjoyed the Lumione parts, I don't think it's one I would do again. This story has taught me a lot, and so have you wonderful reviewers. You showed me what worked in this story and made me think about the things that didn't.