They stand in front of the Ministry of Magic.
A witch and a wizard.
The witch has her usually curly hair pulled harshly back from her face in a knot at the back of her head. Prim and proper robes of black swirl about her person, a black cloak placed over her arm, a folder clutched in one hand.
She is not beautiful, but she is attractive, a feeling of calmness about her, of years lived, survived, and the peace and acceptance that comes with going through much and surviving.
More than surviving. Thriving. Now, finally, thriving.
A look of determination set on her features. A look indicating she is set on something, has decided something, and nothing whatsoever will make her change her mind.
A slight lift of her chin, brown eyes warm, almost gentle, even though the determination is there. Thrumming about her.
The wizard stands next to her, too close to be casual but not close enough to be inappropriate.
He is dressed immaculately. His white hair is smoothed away from his aristocratic features, black robes tailored to perfection, every ounce of him screaming wealth, breeding, old money and old titles.
The expression on his face is arrogant, lazy, a slight tilt to a lip, and those who look into his eyes see they are the colour of storm clouds.
Cold. Grey. Not exactly expressionless, but swirling with many different emotions, none of them remaining long enough to categorize and analyse.
His life, his lessons, his being, are concealed things, not apparent to those about him, to those who know who he is, what he is. An achingly private man, very few would look on him and see the truth of the man, the truth of the wizard.
But the witch at his side knows. She knows and when she turns to him, looking up at him, her smile shows the world what they are to each other.
Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.
So many definitions, meanings, things, histories, memories. Thoughts.
Though no one sees the smile, the look; no one but one tall dark wizard slowly making his way towards them.
Hermione looks away from Draco and the smile slips to a smirk, watching as Severus walks towards them, his graceful movements surprisingly coexistent with the harsh look on his face and the black robes billowing about him.
He stops in front of the witch and wizard.
"You have the information?" Draco asks.
Severus nods once. "Of course." A pause as he looks between the two former students. "You do realise they are going to have very little patience with what you have to say, and in fact, their reactions might not be entirely gracious?"
Hermione's smirk grows slightly, a mischievous tilting about the side of her lips. "We realise that, Severus, but there is very little they can do about it."
Severus shakes his head slowly, dark hair catching in the slight wind and moving across his older features. "It is a very good thing that you happen to be best friends with Harry Potter; otherwise this would be a disaster."
Hermione tilts her head studying Severus. "Perhaps," she answers. "However, they came to me originally wanting a lesson plan, believing there was no way to rid the world of this magic. So they were led to believe that there was." She shrugs lightly. "It's not my fault they were wrong to believe."
Draco smirks next to her. "I sincerely hope you are not going to be that brutally honest with the lot of them."
Hermione's flashes him a grin. "Of course, my love, I am a Gryffindor after all."
The two wizards share a look over the top of the witch's head.
Hermione sees it but chooses to ignore it, instead turning on a heal and climbing the steps to the front of the Ministry.
"Well, are you two louts coming?" she calls over her shoulder.
Another look between the men though they say nothing, obediently following the witch into the building.
Whispers trail the three through the lobby and up to where the board rooms are. They ignore the whispers quite easily; the witch with her chin in the air, Draco with a face of arrogant boredom, and Severus with the precise look of nothing at all.
Though inwardly Hermione can't help but grimace and feel a flash of panic.
They are not going to an execution nor a sentencing, just a meeting, though it is something that Draco has had to remind Hermione on several occasions for the last day and a half.
Just an invite. A meeting.
The litany moving through Hermione's head as she reaches the board room and pushes the door open, precisely on time.
A meeting.
She reminds herself, though the nerves jumping about her stomach do not calm and suddenly she feels the distinct desire to be ill. Especially when she walks in and all eyes turn immediately to the door.
Some friendly. Some not so much.
A hand at the small of her back, steadying, reassuring; magic swirling about her, a warming about the base of her spine even as she feels her magic responding to the wizard behind her.
A confirmation. A resolution.
Draco lets his hand drop from the small of her back but it's all she needed and Hermione walks to the head of the table with the precise and measured step of someone with renewed confidence.
Draco is proud of her. His witch. He'd felt her waver when faced with the sea of faces and had responded without thought, almost immediately, something confident and almost arrogant in reaction to her reaction.
To have the ability to calm her with just a touch.
Powerful, but a different kind of power from what he's known before.
He follows her to the head of the table, scanning the room, lazy, cool eyes cataloguing everyone present, analyzing, categorizing. An immediate and almost instinctive action, born from years as the head of a very powerful enterprise, as well as something inborn, bred, through the years of being a Malfoy.
Finding allies, finding enemies, weakness, strength.
He sees the faces of each and remembers them.
Severus follows, a dark presence, always a shadow behind them, silent in his movements, also looking around the room to analyse and assess. He is there as a favour, asked by his Godson and his witch, and he sees several people blink in surprise at his arrival.
He ignores them with the ease of years doing so and seats himself next to Draco.
Harry Potter clears his throat at the other end of the table and stands up slightly.
All eyes revert to him.
"Excellent," he starts, every bit the politician, "I believe that is all of us then." A look around the room at all present, lingering for just a moment on Hermione before looking on the man sitting next to her.
Harry's gaze lingers on Draco, lingers so long that several people twitch in their seat.
Grey eyes, green eyes, brilliant but different, different in so very many ways.
Harry is the one who looks away, nodding slightly at Severus before glancing down at the files sitting in front of him.
He sits and pulls the files towards him.
"This meeting has been called to address the current developments regarding this third magical field we've discussed before."
Looking up briefly to ensure everyone is paying attention before continuing. "Several things have come to my attention, and the attention of the Ministry, since the original project was announced, and we are here today to go over these developments and decide what sort of actions must be taken."
Harry opens the first file, glancing up at Hermione briefly with an almost apologetic look, so brief that only Hermione catches it, before looking down on the paper before him.
"Of course, all of you know by now what happened with my daughter several days ago. This magic, this dimensional field, hindered the ability of medical professionals to treat a rather basic fever. Hermione was able to establish a connection with this magic, thereby - if I understand correctly - pulling the magic away from Lily, thus allowing the normal procedure of reducing the fever after taking away this third magic."
A snort, just barely, at the simplification of what Hermione did. A slight movement in the air from Draco, though when eyes turn towards him he looks blandly back at them.
Not saying a word.
Harry also looks up to glance at him but continues without saying anything about the interruption.
"Since that time, the Ministry has received several letters, more than fifty actually, outlining similar experiences, though none of them to the extent warranting hospitalisation. However, this has caused an outpouring of concern from the community, and of course those in the Ministry, specifically those in this room, have also raised concerns as to the nature of this field of magic."
Closing the folder slightly and placing his hands easily upon the surface, Harry looks on Hermione once more. "This is why you have been called here: to inform of us of the nature of this magic, and to tell us of your progress in researching the magic."
A pause.
Then another voice.
"And how to destroy it."
This time from Moody who is glaring at everyone in general, though there is something soft about his glare when it lands on Hermione, only to harden when the glares moves to Draco at her side.
Hermione tenses just slightly at Moody's words and at the glare he gives the man at her side, but a hand, warm and sure descends on her leg under the table and she once more relaxes, giving Moody a smile that takes him slightly aback at its almost ferocious nature.
She lets the smile linger for a moment before turning her look on her childhood friend.
"It can't be destroyed." She says the words quietly but clearly, all of the room hearing them.
A look of surprise on several faces, anger on several more.
"Why?"
Hermione notices that the ease in which the Minister of Magic sat in his chair before is now tensed, his green eyes hardening slightly.
She is not all together surprised at the reaction.
Though on some level it saddens her.
She looks away from Harry, looking to Minerva sitting next to him, to Remus, Tonks, Moody, Hannah, and several other faces she knows. Knows, understands, even as they look on her almost accusingly.
Hermione begins again.
"Perhaps I should restate that," she says just as quietly and clearly. "There is only one way to destroy the field, and I, for one, am not particularly fond of that solution."
Moody again grasping, magical eye moving about wildly. "You mean you are so ensnared by that traitor next to you that you have lost all common sense and refuse to break off whatever twisted relationship you have with him?"
Hermione pales at the words, pales, and feels the hand on her leg tensing, long fingers digging in her thigh as a way to calm the anger she knows is now radiating through the wizard next to her.
"No," she says curtly. "That one solution requires me to die, and I very much would like to continue living."
Moody's face turns slightly sheepish for just a moment.
"And that is the only solution?" Harry asks, breaking into the tension, though it is still there in the room, all eyes moving between Draco and Hermione.
"It is." Severus answers.
Harry looks away from Hermione to the dark man. "Explain?"
A smirk on Severus' face, clearly annoyed.
"Of course." Silky tones, annoyance clear in those as well. "Though perhaps Hermione would like to first give a description of the actual magic before we talk about the actions required in destroying it. After all, we cannot understand the reaction before first realising the action."
The speech is given in a tone of the ex-professor and it is not only his former students that feel abashed, disciplined, but all in the room.
Harry inclines his head. "Please, Hermione."
Barely noticeable but to three in the room, Hermione's chin rises several notches into the air, preparing herself even as she feels the hand move from her thigh.
Giving her space to think, to explain.
Something warm moves through her at the understanding behind Draco's action, even as she pulls out her own file of notes. Parchments rolled together and a quill that she picks up and puts between her fingers.
Swirling it one way and then another. The movement soothing to her, even as she looks about the room at the different levels of reaction.
She begins.
"There are three versions of this spell." She starts, only to be interrupted by Moody who barks out at her words.
She looks over at Moody, meeting his eyes, her own narrowing slightly. "Would you like me to continue, Mr. Moody?"
"Hermione," this time from Harry, "Please continue. Mr. Moody, you have been warned."
A growl from the older man, something about cheek of the younger generation.
All ignore him.
Hermione begins again.
"As I was saying, there are three versions of this spell. For clarity I will begin with the original version, which some of you have already figured out, is blood magic, specifically a blood binding. The original spell was written almost a thousand years ago as best we can decipher, by a male Malfoy. The purpose of the spell is fairly straight forward - it is simply a spell used as a bonding between a Malfoy and his bride, a version of a private Wizarding marriage, by all appearances."
Hermione pauses when she catches Minerva's eye and the older woman smiles, speaking. "That explains the bloodstones."
Hermione raises an eyebrow at that.
Minerva's face is soft, a chuckle moving across the room to the younger witch. "Yes, I knew what the stone was on young Malfoy's hand, just as well as the stone that you keep hidden in your rooms."
A blush moves across Hermione's features.
"Yes, you are correct, Minerva. Originally, the spell produces a bloodstone by the drop of blood from both the male and female, also creating the protective bond between the two of them."
"But," Tonks breaks in suddenly, her face scrunched up in thought, "I thought blood magic could only work between blood relations?"
Hermione nods. "Indeed; however, part of the spell includes a moment when the two wands create drops of blood on the other person, almost like a slicing hex but more complex. This action is even more effective then just sharing blood, as if you were to cut a hand and share blood in that kind of ritual, or even between family."
Hermione catches Remus looking at her, head tilted slightly, a thoughtful look on his face.
She does not wait for his question, continuing. "I know there are going to be a lot of questions, but please let me finish explaining the three versions and then we, the three of us, will try to answer your questions."
Several heads nod, including Remus who is still looking on her strangely, his gaze sliding to the wizard next to her.
She feels Draco tense but continues, her own hand this time coming to the side to brush his arm, just slightly, just barely.
A physical touch to intensify the calmness moving back and forth in their bond. The reaffirmation of support.
Hermione swallows slightly, looking down at her notes before continuing.
The quill still moving between her fingers.
"That was the first version of the spell. The second version was developed fifty years ago, as best we can tell. Marcus Malfoy, Draco's great-grandfather, came across the original spell, a spell that had been, since then, hidden in a very old book in the Malfoy Manor."
The quill stopping for a moment, the white blur between her fingers stilling as she continues. "This was at the height of the Wizard Hitler's advance on the Muggle world and he, being one of Hitler's men, saw the spell as an opportunity. He warped the original magic to create the second version of the spell. This version was the one that Draco and I believed we were casting."
The quill, moving once more, Hermione in her lecture mode. "This spell, essentially, allows a Malfoy pure-blood to pull the magic from a Muggle-born witch or wizard, resulting in the depletion of the Muggle-born's magic. The process of draining the magic causes a field of magic, a sort of stasis on the magic. This field is what Harry used in order to defeat Voldemort."
A murmur of voice at the Dark Lord's name.
Hermione ignores them and continues. "Once the Malfoy has completely drained the magic of the Muggle-born, leading to the Muggle-born's death, the field is supposed to dissipate. The Malfoy casting the spell has completely absorbed the magic making them more powerful, and the field is no longer essential and fades away."
Kingsley Shacklebolt breaks in, "But the field did not dissipate."
Hermione shakes her head. "No. That brings us to the third version."
This time she puts the quill down, looking around the room, lingering on Harry before explaining.
"The third version of the spell is, from all apparent indications, a combination of the two first spells. Both the blood binding spell, leading to the creation of the bloodstones, but also, or rather in addition to, the more malevolent version of the spell, leading to the creation of the magical field, a field that did not go away."
She catches Remus' eye then and locks on to them, instinctively understanding that what she says next is part of the reason behind the thoughtful look he is giving her and Draco.
"The field did not go away because the exchange of magic never actually took place. My magic, which was supposed to flow to Draco, did not. Instead, it combined with his creating a third magic, the field, or the shadow magic as some of you have called it."
Hermione pauses then, looking about the table. Waiting, seeing the different faces going through their thoughts, opinions, drawing conclusions.
"So you are saying that this magic that Lily and the other children experience, is a combination of your and Draco's magic?" Harry asks, his face thoughtful, green eyes looking at Hermione and then to Draco.
Hermione nods.
"Essentially."
"Break the bond," another voice, this from an Auror Hermione can't recall the name of.
She feels more than sees Draco shake his head next to her, opening his mouth to offer a smart comment, but Minerva answers first.
"They can't," she says quietly.
All eyes turn to the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, but she doesn't look at anyone, her gaze directly on Hermione and then Draco, a soft smile ghosting about her lips. "Can you?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No."
"Why?" This time from Tonks.
Again Minerva. "Because the only way you can break a blood binding is if one of the participants dies."
Another thoughtful silence about the room, and then Harry, slowly, as if not to make a mistake, speaks. "Are you saying, Hermione, that you and Draco are bound through blood and there is no way to counteract it?"
A flash of irritation at her friend, and she can feel Draco's reaction is similar through their bond.
"No, there is not," Hermione says evenly, answering before Draco can say something snide and cutting.
Remus speaks then. Hermione has watched him out of the corner of her eye and she knows he will be the one to ask the question. "But a binding, a blood binding… Unless I am very much mistaken, that would mean that you and Mr. Malfoy were-" a pause then, almost embarrassed, continuing, "-in love at the time it was cast."
Hermione feels the colour moving across her cheeks and is slightly surprised that it is not shame she feels, but embarrassment to have such a personal matter discussed in front of a group of people.
She distinctly feels Draco warm at her side, realising the difference in her reaction. A reaction, substantially different in what it would have been but a month before.
Their magic throbbing between them.
Severus saves her from answering. "You know very well, Lupin, for a blood binding to work three elements must be present: purpose, sacrifice, and love." A slight sneer on the older wizard's lips as he looks at the other man. "It is not different in this situation."
Hermione carefully does not look at the rest of the room, looking straight at Harry who is watching her with something akin to gentleness in his eyes, acceptance.
"Do the circumstances really matter?" A drawl, that arrogant drawl, cold silk, from next to her.
The effect on the room is instantaneous; all eyes moving to the wizard at her side, all attention suddenly, intently, focused on him and only him.
If the situation were any different, Hermione would laugh at the effect his voice and person has on the room. All present react to Draco's charisma though a few, more than a few, would be horrified to realise they do so.
Draco leans slightly forward, still lazy, easy, looking about the room. "I was under the impression that the issue in question is not the how of the matter, but rather, what you are going to do about the result."
Moody instantly reacts, "You boy, you have something do with this…"
Draco shrugs even as Harry admonishes the elder wizard with a word, silencing him.
Hermione is amused.
Harry continues. "Mr. Malfoy is quite correct; this is about what to do in response."
A slight sigh of wariness moves across Harry's face, looking about the room before moving his gaze once more on Hermione. "You are absolutely sure there is no solution to this."
A gentle smile, a lifting about her lips, at her friend. "I'm sure, Harry."
"This is ridiculous," another voice, this time from a younger witch, hair pulled back from her face.
Hermione tries to call on a name and can't come up with one.
Harry looks over at the witch and the woman blushes slightly, speaking again. "If you beg my pardon, Minister, but we are risking children's lives by taking the word of this witch and a Malfoy and it seems to me that you have forgotten this."
When Hermione feels Draco's tension catapult several degrees in reaction to the woman's words, she does not hide nor make pretence of putting her hand on his arm.
Calming.
It does not go unnoticed by several in the room.
Hermione keeps her hand firmly placed on the black clad arm, the contact as much for her as for him.
Harry looks on the woman. "I realise that, Mrs. Avery, and am very aware of that in fact, from personal experience. However, I have no reason to disbelieve the evidence put forth by Miss Granger nor Mr. Malfoy."
Mrs. Avery shakes her head. "Forgive me if I do not trust her as much as you do."
"Mrs. Avery," the dark voice of Severus cut in. "Are you suggesting that Miss Granger is purposefully misleading this board and the Minister of Magic?"
Hermione does not have to look over at her former professor to know he is giving the woman a look of utter disdain; it is very evident in her voice.
The woman visibly pales.
Severus continues. "Because, please, if you believe that to be the case I am sure we would like to hear what you have to say as to the reasoning behind why Miss Granger would want to mislead Harry Potter and the Wizarding community?" A pause, his voice dropping slightly. "Pray, Mrs. Avery, inform us of your suspicions."
The woman opens her mouth, closes it, opens her mouth again, "I am not…"
Severus cuts her off instantly, his voice like a whip across the room. "Quite, then I would suggest silence."
The woman blushes furiously and Hermione almost feels sorry for her.
Almost.
Hermione looks away from the unfortunate Mrs. Avery to look back at Harry.
Addressing him rather than anyone else. "I realised there would be questions, so I have compiled, with the assistance of Draco and Severus, a complete report. The first report is an outline of the definitions of the three different versions of the magic, explaining clearly the how of each one. The second report is a complete list of references to all of our research leading us to the conclusion that this binding cannot be broken by any means but death. The third report is, of course, the conclusions of our findings as stated today."
Another pause.
The Headmistress cutting in. "She is quite right actually; it is universally known that a blood binding can not be broken but by death. As to the validity of their binding, they have the stones to attest to that."
Another pause as all think on Minerva's words.
Draco breaks in with his drawl once more. "I was of the understanding, prior to the Holiday, that this magic was an accepted fact and that originally, I, as well as Miss Granger, were called in to create a curriculum for the magic, not to destroy it."
A mutter of responses, though Harry is the first to respond. "You are correct, but that is before we discovered the magic could harm people, harm children."
A snort from Hermione, and all eyes turn to her in surprise. But she can't help it, not in the least, and she is not sorry for it.
All of them dunderheads, she thinks, even as she realises she sounds like Severus.
"Are you going to explain your amusement?" This question coming from an irritated Hannah.
Hermione nods. "Of course. I feel that Harry is overreacting."
"Overreacting?" Harry says, low, angry suddenly. "It seems to me it was not your daughter in the hospital."
This time it is Draco's hand that descends on Hermione's arm as she narrows her eyes, anger pulling in around her.
"My Goddaughter, Harry? The one that I helped, or did you forget?"
A murmur of voices, the air crackling between the two friends, before Harry finally looks away, his magic receding slightly.
"Of course," he says, and suddenly Hermione is distinctly reminded of the boy she once knew and she feels her own anger fall away followed by softness.
"Perhaps overreacting is the wrong word to use," Hermione says quietly, noticing absently that Draco has withdrawn his hand. "After experimenting with the magic, after working with it both with Draco and alone, I believe that this magic is like all magic - it just has to be controlled. All of us remember when we first learned we had magic, some of us earlier than others, and it was without thought that we were taught to use it. This third magic, this field, it is less direct but can be controlled if taught how to do so."
Harry, along with several other people in the room, look on her suspiciously.
"Are you sure?" Harry asks.
Hermione shakes her head, "Not entirely, not until I am able to work with a child with access to the magic."
A snort, this time from Moody, "And so we just have to trust good luck that none of them end up in the hospital until you can get to them?"
Tiredness then, moving through Hermione's bones, at the argument, at having to try to defend something she is not even completely sure about.
Draco sees the tiredness just then, having watched her out of the corner of his eye through most of the proceeding. Sees it and feels hatred at the stupid old wizard, a wave of protectiveness making it very hard not to hex the old coot.
But instead he answers for Hermione. "It's not so much a matter of getting to the children, as it is providing the information to parents, just the same way we offer information to witches finding out they are pregnant; just part of their reading for what to expect of a new witch or wizard."
He feels the relief of his words wafting off Hermione in waves and he has to contain himself from turning to her and enveloping her in his arms, shielding her from the people in the room.
Stupid, stupid, people.
Hermione takes up the conversation. "Besides, I believe that Lily feels the magic a little more, or perhaps even a lot more, than most children. For instance, I do not have the same reaction to Ronald; although it is there, it is not nearly as strong."
"Why?"
This question from Tonks.
Hermione raises an eyebrow.
Tonks clarifies. "Why is she stronger?"
Hermione struggles for a moment, feeling a wave of guilt, thoughts tumbling about her mind, struggling against the darkness that rolls within her magic.
This time Draco reaches out to take her hand and squeezes it, bringing her back.
She answers Tonks, not looking at Harry.
"She was the firstborn of Harry, who was directly enmeshed in the field of magic, she was-" here Hermione pauses, searching for words, before continuing. "Blood magic, as you heard, is made up of three separate things: love and purpose but also sacrifice. I believe, obviously, the sacrifice part of it was established in my willingness to die for the cause and Draco's willingness to die for me; however, I believe the true sacrifice came in the death of Ron Weasley."
She continues hurriedly over the murmurs of the room. "I believe that Lily is the direct benefactor of that sacrifice."
Hermione barely hears the murmur of voices, feeling the guilt rolling about her, but then a hand pulls her back from the darkness of the magic swirling, the hand pulling as the magic pulls.
She turns and looks into the cool eyes of Draco and when she sees them soften, scanning her face, scanning her eyes, softening because he is looking at her, balance re-establishes herself.
Hermione smiles slightly and turns away to confront the room once more.
Harry is speaking again, pain clear in his face, in his eyes, though his voice is steady.
"Then we have established the cause and the effect, and it appears as if the only solution is a defensive one."
With a glance at the magical numbers on the wall indicating the time, the Minister of Magic pulls his folders towards him standing up. "I have a meeting I must attend with the American president so I must leave, but I will have my secretary contact all of you in order to set up a meeting to discuss strategies. Please be thinking of them."
A pause, as Harry looks on Hermione, looks on her hard. Then.
"Can I speak to you for a moment, Hermione?"
A tensing of the wizard next to her. She nods briefly and then turns to Draco, capturing his hand once more, a thumb moving across his palm. Dark grey eyes, growing steel like, soften once more.
He nods, though no words are spoken.
Hermione gathers her folders and parchments, throwing her cloak about her shoulder and follows Harry to the hallway, the door closing behind them.
She follows the Minister of Magic to a small hallway empty of people.
He turns on her, green eyes piercing her, searching her face. "So, you have told him?"
Hermione does not pretend she doesn't understand. She just nods.
"And what about him?"
Hermione smiles then, a gentle smile, showing everything to the friend in front of her. Not the Minister of Magic, not the man who once killed Voldemort, but her life-long friend, the memory of what is between them.
"What do you think of me being Mistress of Malfoy Manor?" she asks instead of answering him.
Green eyes suddenly sparkling, a dark eyebrow moving up to always untidy dark hair. "He has asked you already."
Hermione shrugs, a blush suddenly moving over her features. "Well, not in so many words, but let's say it was implied."
A grin, a flash, then sober. "George will not take this well."
Hermione looking down, nodding slowly. "I know, I just…" She looks back up, meeting green eyes with her brown. "George is a wonderful man, you know that, Harry, but he is not Draco."
A snort in disbelief and in humour.
"Well, I'll make sure and not tell him you said that." A smile then, "Don't worry, Mione; he's a good looking bloke, and setting him up with eligible witches will give Ginny something to do."
Another smile, between them.
But suddenly, just then, soberness.
A pause, where Harry braces her with two hands on her arms, holding her in place so he can look down on her.
"And Ron?" he asks gently.
The guilt, still there, a feeling of dull pain along her nerves, up her spine, a dryness in her eyes as she looks up at Harry.
"I will always love Ron." She answers him quietly.
"But you love Malfoy," Harry finishes, pulling her into a hug then, a hug that almost hurts.
Murmuring into her hair. "I am glad, Hermione. I'll always think him a git, think you can probably do better, but I am glad."
Hermione can't help it then, something breaks in her chest and she pushes away from Harry, bringing a hand up to wipe the sudden moisture away from her cheeks.
"You're a git," she says, trying to stop the crying that has suddenly started.
Harry wipes the tears away with his own hand. "I am, but I'm your git, and," he says, mischief moving over his features, "I fully intend to take advantage of you being the wife of one of the most wealthy and influential men in the Wizarding world."
Hermione rolls her eyes,."Honestly," she says, though she smiles too, her eyes drying even as Harry gives a quick hug again, scanning her face.
"You're good though?" he asks, his eyes scanning her face, probing her.
Hermione nods. "I'm good."
"Then that's all that matters."
Another hug, quick, and then Harry puts the Minister of Magic persona back on. "I expect you to think on solutions, ways of getting information out about this magic, as well as more information on how to control it."
Hermione can't help but raise an eyebrow at the sudden change in Harry, amusement clear on her face. "Of course, Minister."
Harry smirks, slightly, and then turns and disappears down the hallway.
She senses a sudden presence behind her.
Without thought, Hermione leans back resting herself against the strong front of Draco Malfoy.
"You alright, love?" A dark voice next to her ear.
Hermione turns, stepping back and looking into grey eyes, those beautiful eyes that now closely resemble the colour of the sea, rolling grey, swirling with emotion.
She reaches up and places a hand against his cheek, briefly, not enough to call attention to the act, but still enough for the contact to be felt.
"I need to do something," she says, explains.
Draco looks down on her, eyes narrowing slightly, and Hermione can't help but smile at his look.
"Don't worry, it's nothing awful and horrible, just," pausing, tilting her head and bringing her lip between her teeth, "I need to say goodbye."
Draco searches her face, searching the soft brown eyes, noticing the curls escaping from her severe knot, framing her face, the freckles along her nose, and that lip, pulled between white teeth.
He knows that nervous gesture will be the death of him one day.
Because Draco is still Draco, he glances around to make sure that they are relatively alone before leaning down and gently kissing the witch in front of him.
He pulls back slightly, meeting her eyes, piercing her with a gaze, "You are not going away?" he asks, wincing inwardly at the slight unease in his voice, the slight crack.
Hermione reaches up and kisses him this time, a mere peck, a moment brief enough. "I told you, I will never leave you," she whispers against his lips, before stepping back.
Draco gives her a smirk then, tilting his head, "Then I expect you home in one hour. I have an afternoon planned for you."
Hermione smirking back, "Hmm, and what do those plans consist of?"
Those grey eyes turn then to quicksilver, lust heating them up even as his eyes peruse her body up and down leisurely, "Oh, I think you won't mind them, might even find them pleasurable."
Hermione feels slightly out of breath from just his look, feeling her own flush of desire washing through her body. "I think you might be right," she says lightly, though her response to his words, to him, is clear in her heightened colour and the sudden darkening of her eyes.
Another smirk. "I am always right, remember?"
Hermione smiling then, a brilliant smile, at this wizard, this man. "I'll remember that."
Draco leans in, a quick contact of lips, before swirling in his dark cloak and walking away.
Hermione watches him, a smile flittering about her lips until she realises that several witches are looking at her with clear interest and catty envy.
She flashes a cocky smile at him before walking away.
The sun is shining as she exits the Ministry building and by the time she gets to the familiar black gates the heat is hot on her head and she has pulled off her cloak, draping it over her arm.
She walks under the tall gates.
She weaves in between tombstones, avoiding the ghosts flying about, dunking under the Ever Weeping Willows, finding the black path of crushed onyx that leads to the far corner of the cemetery.
She stops in front of a small traditional tombstone, a Muggle tombstone.
She kneels in front of it.
Sadness and guilt move through her, swirl about her, as a finger comes up to trace the familiar outlines of the lettering, but it's different this time, substantial but not overwhelming. An echo rather than a full assault.
Tears once more fall from dark eyes, but instead of a grimace of pain a smile plays about her lips.
"You would hate this, Ron," she murmurs to the stone. "You would probably yell and scream, argue with me and call me mental."
A light laugh, the finger tracing the R, then the O. "Falling for a Malfoy, I can hear it now, and Draco the ferret no less."
Letting her finger fall from the stone, hands falling to her knees. "I do love him though, Ron, and he loves me, and I would hope, if you were still here, that you would have understood that."
Another pause, the sun catching on the moisture of her face as the witch tilts her head. "And I do wish you were here, I do, because there is so much I want to share with you, about Harry and Ginny and their kids, about Minerva, and about me, me and him. You would have never gotten along, but I know you would have learned to respect one another."
Another smile, "I suppose that's the best I would have been able to hope for."
Hermione leans forward slightly, resting her head against the coldness of the stone. Even in the heat of the day, the stone is frigid and she lets it melt into her skin, for a moment, just a moment.
Letting the emotions swirl about her, in her, letting her magic, all three magics, throb about her.
Remembering, feeling.
For a moment.
And then.
She straightens, placing a palm on the carved name 'Ronald Weasley', feeling the etching under her skin.
"I have to let go now, Ron," she whispers, her face sad, wistful almost. "I hope you understand wherever you are, that it's time for me to move on. I loved you so much and in a way, I will always love you, you will always be the first for me, a memory that I will treasure among the best."
Another pause, and Hermione lets her hand drop from the stone, rising to her feet and looking down at the grave.
"But I have to say goodbye now, Ron."
A smile, tinged with many years, memories, lives, but more.
Tinged with hope.
A pause where she glances once more, lingering.
Then Hermione Granger turns away from the tombstone of her old friend and boyfriend, steadily making her way out of the cemetery, her pace quick, precise, face clear and lovely in the sun.
Once past the shadow of the black gates she Disapparates almost immediately.
Apparating to the feel of the wind off the sea, to the sound of waves crashing about cliffs.
To the door of a small home, sturdy against the onslaught of the grey sky overhead, Hermione opens the door.
The white haired wizard looks up from the kitchen table at her entrance, porcelain tea cup cradled in long aristocratic fingers. A smile blooms about Draco's face when he sees her, gentle, loving, brilliant in its honesty.
She smiles back.
"I'm home," she says, closing the door behind her.