A/N Well it's been more than a year. I could lie and say my last three semesters kicked my ass (which they did) or that I've gone through a total life rehaul (which I have.) But the truth is I looked at my 60+ chapter outline, and burned myself out writing too much too quickly. But I didn't forget about this story, not ever, really. So I'm taking the outline down significantly. I also may rewrite some earlier chapters (chapter 35 being particularly heinous) and hopefully get the actual point of the story across.

Chapter 44

Draco woke to the morning glow streaming in Granger's windows. They were sprawled out on the couch, her hair a riot of tangles spreading across his chest.

For a moment he just closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her, of this morning, before the little doubts and complications came rushing back into his mind.

He wanted this woman, with an intensity that scared him. But there was that prophecy, twisting his mind and making him confused and frustrated.

She stirred, Mmm… What time is it?"

" Nine thirty," He replied.

She stretched, "I have to go to brunch with my friends, at eleven."

He smirked, "Is that a hint that I should leave?"

She hesitated, "I mean, I'll just be getting ready."

He took a deep breath, " I actually have somewhere to be at eleven too." Draco fought not to give away the secret with his voice.

"Do you want some coffee or something before you go?" She offered, her voice slightly shaky.

"If you're making some," He replied.

She rose, and headed to the kitchen blushing.

"Do I make you nervous, Granger?" He called out while pulling on his trousers.

"No, I just haven't had someone sleep over for a long time," She replied.

Draco laid back on the couch and breathed in the morning. He realized with a small smile that Granger did own perfume. Mixed with her clean soapiness was a muted floral smell, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, and it was all over him.

"So where do you have to get to this morning," She called from the kitchen.

"A brunch."

It took her a moment to catch his tone. "You can't be serious."

"Afraid so, Granger. Weasley asked me to come along for Blaise." He stood and came to the door of her kitchen to watch.

She was efficiently preparing the coffee pot in his undershirt from the night before wearing a bemused expression. "Well at least if I ever doubted Ron's interest in Blaise, I've been corrected."

Draco popped up an eyebrow. "You really don't like Blaise, huh?"

"Hey, when you go through six years hearing girls cry in the bathroom over some prat, you don't want them dating your friend," She explained.

"Fair. But Blaise isn't a shitty person. All's fair in love and war, as they say."

"And what do you say?"

"I say... He's a really decent bloke. And you'd like him, if you got to know him. He didn't spend his adolescence being a miserable and repressed like some of us. Myself included." Draco shrugged, "If he likes Weasley he'll treat him right."

She turned and smiled at that, "How do you take it?"

He grinned, "However you want to give it, Granger."

"I mean your coffee," She teased.

He walked forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Hm... Dark and hot and sweet."

"And on the kitchen table?" She murmured.

"Did I stumble on another fantasy?"

"I like you sleeping over," She replied, locking her hand over his, "So many possibilities."

About a half hour later they finally had their coffee, still hot (ish).

"Do you still have time to go home and change?" She asked as she pulled his shirt back on.

"I'll just transfigure what I'm wearing," he explained, collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs.

She blushed, "Well I'd better hurry, then. Do you want a shower?"

Visions of what he generally started his showers with flashed. "Nope. I'm all good."

"Okay, then I'll be right back. Harry and Ginny want to try a new place in Diagon Alley so we can just apparate," She explained.

Draco steeled himself for the grimness that would be Diagon Alley on a Saturday morning. Maybe Potter was trying to get him killed. Draco waved his hand lazily, transforming his shirt from the rumpled grey oxford he'd worn the day before into a dark green sweater.

" You're so good at wandless magic," Granger marvelled, "I'm envious."

"It just takes practice," He replied, not adding that in his case it had been a constant, quiet practice over the course of several years in confinement. But he hated that pitying look she got when he talked about his past.

"I've been reading about it, but I can't seem to get a grasp on it," She wandered back into her bedroom and spoke to him through the open door. "Pardon the pun."

He laughed, "Reading about it will only go so far. It's about forcing the magic to conduit through yourself, not through something else."

She was quiet for a moment before responding, "So how do you do that?"

"It's like when you were a kid, doing magic was this uncontrollable thing. Using a wand focuses the magic, but you can go back to using magic on it's own if you concentrate," He explained, sipping lukewarm coffee.

The shower came on. "Can you do complicated spells with it?"

"You mean like warding spells, or like forbidden spells?"

Her voice dripped with curiousity, "Can you do unforgivables with it?"

He kept his voice light, "I have. But it's not a habit."

The water shut off, but she didn't answer for a while. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"With wandless magic or without?" He stalled.

"Either way."

" No," He replied, "Have you?"

She hesitated, "Yes."

He considered following through on that and thought better of it. Already this conversation was sending nervous butterflies through his chest.

"But don't tell anyone," He joked, "I have an evil cowardly bastard reputation to maintain."

She exited the bedroom towelling off her hair, in leggings and an oversized sweater. "Oh yes, wouldn't want anyone mistaking you for someone with a heart."

He smirked, "It's all part of the Malfoy package. Heartlessness, devilishly good looks, and cleverness enough to power all of Wiltshire."

She smirked back, " And here I thought when you said 'Malfoy Package' you were going to go in a very different line of thinking," She flirted.

"Now Miss Granger don't you think you've learned enough about that line of thinking today?" He raised an eyebrow at her brazenness.

"Oh have I? I thought tonight, I could learn a few more of your best attributes."

He pulled her into his arms, "Tonight it is. Are you ready?"

"Almost, I just have to grab my bag and shoes."

She whirled away to her bedroom and returned with her hair springing out of an instant drying charm, yanking on some flat shoes.

He shrugged on his black overcoat. "Let's go."

"One last thing." She opened the door and he followed her into the hall, where she transfigured his plain black coat into a black leather jacket.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"You look like an old man in that coat," she explained. "We're going to brunch, not a funeral."

"Excuse you, I have very good taste, Granger." He sniffed.

"Maybe you used to, but now you dress like an accountant. You always used to dress sharply in school," she answered.

"Noticed how I dressed, eh, Granger?" He teased.

She rolled her eyes. "You were a flashy little git, it was hard not to."

"Who knew boring old Granger was into dress up?"

She blushed a little, shaking her head, "Let's get a move on."

Diagon alley was just as crowded as Draco had expected. He wished she hadn't changed his coat- the collar was just large enough for him to duck his chin into. He might have also gone with a plain black robe. Muggle clothes were becoming more common, but he also felt like Harry fucking Potter walking around like this. They attracted more than the usual amount of stares, however, because Granger had insisted that walking behind or ahead of him a circumspective distance's length was stupid and needless. Now she was struggling to keep up as he dodged his way through the crowd at his usual pace.

"Oi, Malfoy, you prick!" Someone called.

He resisted the urge to grab her wrist and yank her along, "Granger, where is this place."

"Can you slow up just a little?" She panted. He turned back to find her blocked behind a few sturdy looking witches with mountains of packages. She pushed past them almost into his chest, recovering with an indignant toss of her hair.

" Malfoy, you tosser, come over here!"

"Go fuck yourself!" She answered the voice. "It's just off the main street, at Broom's Cross."

"Having trouble, Granger?"

"I wouldn't if you didn't walk like you were on fire." She pouted.

As they stood there, he could hear gathering whispers. "I'm not on fire, I'd just rather we weren't on the front page of the prophet tomorrow."

She glanced around. "People will just think I'm trying to reform you."

"Are you?" He raised his eyebrow.

She snorted. "I'd have better luck training a hippogriff to be a vegetarian."

"Malfoy!"

"It's ten in the morning, leave him alone!" She shook her head.

"Come on, let's go before I get a tomato again."

"People throw tomatoes at you?"

"If they're handy," He retorted. "Now knees up, Granger, Brooms Cross isn't so far."

He ignored the lingering sensation that he should hold her hand and headed back into the fray. Brooms Cross loomed just ahead, along the main drag heading up to Madame Malkin's, and splitting off into Broomstick Lane. The tea shop had enchanted candles twinkling in it's window. Potter must have lost a bet to his wife if they were going to this place. It looked like Umbridge had designed a dungeon.

He arrived first, with Granger scurrying behind. She glowered up at him when he opened the door for her.

The first thing Draco noticed was that Weasley was entirely too large to be sitting in the squat round chairs. He looked like Hagrid in the low-ceilinged shop.

The second thing he noticed was that he was suctioned to Blaise's face. He caught a glimpse of Granger's blush as they made their way to the table.

"Blaise, you're cheating on me?" He mocked.

Weasley flew away from the kiss, ears blazing. Blaise just smirked.

"I'm afraid you just don't satisfy me, Drake." He raised an eyebrow. "I've got a big appetite."

Granger choked on a laugh.

"Oh you laugh for him but not for me? I see how it is." Draco crossed his arms and pretended to pout.

"She's got better taste." Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't you guys sit?" Ron offered the table, set with a lacy tablecloth.

Granger hesitated, and then settled next to Blaise. He considered sitting next to her, but eventually sat next to the Weasel. He caught two old ladies eyeing him with disapproval and took a deep breath.

"Now, do they have real food here, or just little cucumber sandwiches?" Draco opened a menu. "I'm starving."

"We ordered the full English for everyone," Blaise replied.

"Gotta satisfy that appetite, huh?" Draco looked at Weasley pointedly.

Weasley blushed up to his hairline, but slipped a hand into Blaise's.

"And what about you? I notice you arrived together." Blaise shot back. "Looking very coordinated too. Don't tell me you'll be one of those horrible couples with matching robes."

Draco realized belatedly that Granger had inadvertently chosen a deep green sweater that more or less matched his.

"We're not a couple." Granger corrected with a smile.

"Great minds think alike, I guess. We just ran into one another on the street." Draco lied smoothly.

"Didn't I get you that sweater?" Weasley said lightly.

She glanced at Draco, sending a jolt of confusion through him. "Oh right, I guess you did, Ron."

"Ron did what?" It was the Weaslette, settling next to Granger. Draco looked up to meet the green gaze of her befuddled husband.

"I know it's hard to keep your eyes off me, Potter, but your wife is right there." Draco smirked.

"I'm sorry I just didn't know you were coming… Hermione didn't tell us, I guess," Potter stammered.

Draco once again caught the older ladies staring at them and scowled into his menu. Granger shot him a sympathetic look, but he shook his head.

"Hermione didn't invite him, I did," Weasley corrected.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "And you came?"

"Couldn't have my best friend get eaten alive in Umbridge's wet dream." Draco supplied.

The Weaslette frowned, but Granger cracked a smile.

"Fair enough." Potter replied with a shrug.

"This place is supposed to have the best English breakfast in Diagon Alley," The Weaslette added with a scowl.

The Weasel looked on dumbly. "I'm sure it does, Gin, but this place is a little frou frou."

His sister sighed. "Unappreciative males."

Blaise grinned. "Don't lump me in with these lumps."

Weasley gaped. "You told me you were afraid all the estrogen would stain your suit."

Blaise pinched him under the table, his voice rising in pitch. "As I was saying, we ordered for everyone."

Weasley turned and nipped Blaise's neck, causing Draco's friend to squirm and laugh.

Draco smirked. "Who's the couple now, Zabini?"

Potter laughed uncomfortably. "Are you two officially dating, then?"

Weasley shifted his eyes over to Draco. "Do you mean us, or them, Harry?"

Granger shook her head. "Obviously Malfoy and I are never going to date, Ron."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potter's always trying to get me to 'soulmate' you. If I didn't know better, I'd think he liked me."

"'Soulmate' me? What does that even mean?" Granger looked at him with wide eyes.

"I dunno, some Gryffindor nonsense, I'm sure." Draco ran a hand through his hair to push it back, trying to sort out the knot of confused emotion in his chest.

Potter grinned. "I meant Ron and Zabini, but this is very amusing, please continue."

Draco noticed Granger's nervous glance at the oblivious Weasley, and the knot tightened.

"Oh Harry, stop teasing her," Potter's wife chastised him, and the two of them shared a strained look.

Granger turned on Blaise. "So are you dating?"

Weasley jumped in, "We haven't been seeing each other that long, 'Mione, and Blaise really isn't-"

"Yes, we are," Blaise interrupted.

Weasley's mouth continued to work soundlessly.

"Ron, you look like a fish!" She laughed, and just like that Draco felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

He wanted to touch her, the feeling almost overwhelming in intensity. Not grope her or hold her close but just... To graze hands, to rest his chin on her shoulder.

It was an unfamiliar feeling. He'd never understood why Pansy or Astoria had always wanted to hold hands or kiss in the hallways. Even Blaise with Weasley just now, made him uncomfortable. It had always seemed to him that what was done in private needn't be public-

But with Granger he'd grown used to touching her however he wished over the past few days, even in small ways. He found himself very naturally drawn to doing it again. It didn't inspire the same trapped feeling it had with Pansy or Astoria.

Strange that a person who had once loathed him gave that feeling. Strange too that he had such a compulsion to do it. In private touching her was exciting, certainly, but here it was frustratingly forbidden.

Draco acknowledged the rising feelings that accompanied this revelation and shoved them down into a dark and terrible place in him, hopefully never to be seen again.

Instead, he watched Blaise rub his thumb over Weasley's knuckles, fruitlessly longing to do the same to a woman who clearly wanted nothing more from him than sex.

"Is that what you wanted, Ron?" The Weaslette prompted.

"Y-yes, I'm just surprised," Weasley admitted.

"That's a big step, mate. I'm surprised you're so quick to take the plunge." Draco congratulated them.

"It's easy when it's right," Blaise replied, pulling Weasley's chin down for a kiss.

Draco tried to quiet his thoughts, but they rose unbidden to the surface in a swell of longing, confusion, and anger. But he didn't have time to sort through it all before he heard a huff of disapproval from the two ladies.

"Do you have some sort of problem us sitting here?" Granger's voice rang out loud and clear through the tea shop, silencing everyone.

One of the women froze in mortification, but the other seemingly ancient one, was bolder.

"Yes, actually, I do." She held her nose high in the air.

"With him?" Granger indicated him with a nod of her head.

"Granger, it's fine." He insisted.

"No, with them. Two men, kissing in public like that. It's disgusting."

"Excuse me?" Draco rose, feeling that the tiny velvet chair undercut his authority.

"You young people have no respect for what's right and natural in the world. Haven't you heard that our population is declining?" The old woman's jowls shook indignantly.

"I'm sorry if you think it's disrespectful, but the only thing I find objectionable is your narrow mindedness," Draco shot back, fighting the urge to add 'you old hag.'

She sniffed. "The ministry clearly condemns this… this… offensive behavior when it is damaging wizarding families everywhere."

"I read through the marriage law. It very clearly states that the law will not discriminate based on sexual orientation." Granger said through gritted teeth.

"Well it should. It's unnatural, is what it is."

Draco stepped around the table until he towered over the women. "Good witches and wizards gave their lives so that no one would ever be told that they were naturally inferior."

"No one is naturally inferior, young man," The old woman retorted, "Homosexuals choose to go against nature's laws."

Draco narrowed his eyes, and clenched one hand into a fist.

He heard a shuffling behind him, and then the Granger's voice. "Do you know who he is?" She asked the women, indicating Ron.

They both shook their heads, the ruder one rolled her eyes.

"That's Ron Weasley," She explained. "And now that I've told you that, I suspect we'll all become a lot more familiar.

The more frightened woman's eyes widened. "You're Draco Malfoy."

"I am." He replied. "That's how backward your thinking is. Draco Malfoy thinks you're bigoted."

The older lady stood indignantly and, with a huff, pushed past him, trailing her friend. When he turned, Granger laid a hand on his arm, just for a moment before they turned back to the table.

Draco sat down in front of his breakfast, meeting Potter's strange gaze.

"That's what I mean by 'soulmating.'" Potter said finally.

"I'm afraid duty calls," Potter shrugged, his hands pushed deep inside his loose corduroy jacket, as Ginny slipped a hand through the crook of his arm.

"Mum will only watch James for a few hours at a time, now that he's teething." Potter's wife glanced briefly at Draco, causing him to wonder if they were just making excuses to get out of his presence.

"Did you try a draught of eternal spring?" Blaise asked, shutting the door to the tea shop behind him, so that they all stood in a loose circle on the sidewalk.

"No, I've never even heard of that." Ginerva Potter perked up, the blue smudges under her tired eyes looking better just at the promise of a solution.

Blaise drew a card out of his breast pocket, the words shimmering with faint iridescence. 'Zabini and Nott Potions: For Maladies Magical and Muggle Alike,' it read.

"Nott will fix you right up," Blaise handed it over.

"I've never heard of your shop before," Potter said gruffly.

"We're new. Family buisness being of the deadly dull sort, I thought I might actually take a crack at something I actually enjoy. And Nott was having a hard time at St. Mungos," Blaise nodded at Granger then, as if that would have some interest to her.

"He's a healer?" Hermione asked, the question coming out with a bit more force than Draco thought at all necessary. Was Nott of interest to her? Draco shook that thought away.

"He was. But he had trouble keeping patients…" Blaise looked around, noting the ripple of guilty awareness that flashed on all the Gryffindor's faces. He broke off, and then raised an eyebrow at Potter.

"It's a shame, the way some people have had a hard time adjusting after the war." Potter stated simply, his eyes, unreasonably, darting to Draco's.

"Well St. Mungo's loss was my gain," Blaise, as always, was unperturbed. "Nott's better than any of the healers I tried working with before. What is it about Ravenclaws that drains all the creativity right out of you?"

"Not all Ravenclaws," Draco countered, chuffing his friend on the shoulder.

The Weaselette shared a glance with Granger, likely a sympathetic nod to Granger's de-facto interest in him. Probably hoping that it would wear off soon so that they could stop pretending to be nice to him. Blaise they had seemed to genuinely, if grudgingly, accept.

"We'll take you up on the offer, Zabini," The redhead said, pocketing the card. "Now where are you two off to?" She tipped her chin at her brother's arms, linked with Blaise's.

"Shopping for the Rosine's Day ball. I have persuaded this fine gentleman here to be my arm candy for the evening," Blaise smiled, "And as such, he cannot be seen in the same old staid dress robes he's worn to every function in the last four years."

Weasley's ears were pink. "You only need the one set."

"You're one of the most famous men in Wizarding Britain, I think you can allow yourself a second set. Hell, if I was invited to half as many ministry and society events, I'd have really splashed out on three," Blaise rolled his eyes, affection bare in his tone.

"You're the only one who noticed," Weasley balked.

"For years I assumed I was merely offended by so handsome a man being a walking crime to fashion. Clearly, I had some vested interest in making sure you were better vested," Blaise smirked.

"Also, mate, we all noticed. Especially when you got that oil stain on the lapel," Potter shrugged, grinning with satisfaction at his best friend mooning over a slytherin.

Blaise was very easily accepted. One brunch and he seemed to be in. The thought should've pleased Draco, and it did. But there was a twinge of jealousy lurking, itching at him still. Jealous of how openly happy he was. Jealous of the pleasantries he could exchange with the Potters…

Draco shook his head. He was losing his mind if he wanted to be accepted by Harry sodding Potter. Honestly, Granger must have knocked something loose in his head last night while she'd been on top.

"I suppose it could do with a replacement, I bought it for Harry and Gin's Wedding," Weasley admitted sheepishly.

Blaise gasped audibly, "Five years? That's it, we're going." He steered Weasley away, the ginger waving to his friends with a grumble.

The Weaslette waved back and then turned on Granger. "Have you found a dress for the ball."

Granger looked mildly embarrassed, "I was thinking of wearing that old gold gown, the one with the-"

"My bridesmaids' dress? Oh, 'Mione, please don't," The Weaselette laughed helplessly.

"You and the Weasel should've gotten married a long time ago. You could have traipsed around every party in the same old shabby clothes for years," Draco laughed at her embarrassed expression.

"It's not shabby, really," She protested, pinching him.

"Malfoy will you please make sure she wears something nice," The redhead surprised him by laying a hand on his forearm, ironically, in the place where the dark mark had once lurked under his jacket sleeve.

"I won't be there to see it, so I'm afraid there's no way I can help you there." Draco grinned at Granger, who stuck out her tongue at him.

"You're not going? Why not? I heard your donations were some of the highest," Potter's hair blew a little in the wind, exposing his notorious scar.

"No date, I'm afraid," He shrugged them off, ignoring the twinge of useless anger flaring up again.

"Oh, well…" The Weaselette looked at Granger, and then looked down, "I hope you find one and attend, we'd be happy to see you there wouldn't we, Harry?"

"Uh, yes," Potter said with an uneasy shrug.

"Please, all the adoration, and admiration it's too much for me," Draco held his hands up in mock surrender. "Thank you, you're very polite, but I won't be seeing you there."

The redhead shook her head, seemingly a little hurt by his refusal.

"Well, we'd best be on our way, Harry," She bit out awkwardly.

"Uh, yes. Well, I'll see you tomorrow 'Mione," He kissed Granger on the cheek before straightening. "Malfoy. Always illuminating."

"Potter." He replied as Granger hugged her friend goodbye. "Best of luck with your son."

The Potters turned, arm in arm again, and headed towards the main road. The crowds had thinned somewhat on this side street, but people still hurried past, some with packages and companions, and some strolling alone and enjoying the energy of the street.

Granger turned and looked at him. "So… that was… an interesting time."

Draco grinned, "You like him, don't you?"

She closed her eyes, "I admit I may have been a little hasty in judging Zabini."

Draco pumped his fist in the air, not worried about the attention he drew. "I did tell you, you remember I told you, Granger, that he was a good bloke."

"Oh, God, is this what you're like when you're right?" She shook her head and laughed a little.

He pumped his fist again. "I'm sodding insufferable when I'm right, of course I am, Granger."

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "-Can't take you anywhere."

He turned to her, eyes blazing. "Say it again, say I'm right again."

She crossed her arms. "You were right, Zabini is very nice. And very funny."

Draco started a third fist pump, and then broke it off to squint at her. "Funny?"

She laid a hand on his arm, smiling luminously. "Gotcha."

A gaggle of witches with elaborate headscarves pushed past them, and she stood a little closer to avoid the swish of their robes.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" His mind was blank as he looked down at her pretty face, her smile fading to a thoughtful, if wary, sidelong glance.

"Probably just to go home and snuggle up with a good b-" She began.

"Book?" He finished, eyebrows raised. "Well, I have a counter offer: do the same thing, but on top of me in my family's library. Possibly naked."

She seemed to swallow this information slowly. "Why your place?"

"First of all, because of the rule of alternating homes. Secondly, because I have a beautiful red leather chaise lounge in the library that I've been wanting to break in," He grinned down at her, "And nothing breaks in new furniture like a good… reading session."

She flushed, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. "I suppose… I could."

He grinned, and she demured, looking at the ground, and leaning into him.

"Only thing is… we'll have to fly there," He said quite seriously. "No other way."

She bit her lip, the color draining out of her face. "Malf-"

"Gotcha."