"Granger, what in the name of Merlin are you doing?" Draco asked her, the day before Halloween. The past few weeks had been quiet, no articles about her and Draco's friendship, no surprise attacks or dire incidents. Narcissus had had another conversation with her husband, but had not said much in regards its contents, and Draco had seemed to readily accept a lack of detail and had not brought it up again with her. He seemed calmer, more at peace, if any of them could be calm given the amount of homework they were getting. With her added research for her parents, it was a rare thing for Hermione to get to bed at what one would call a reasonable hour, which Draco still harassed her about.

Hermione held the pumpkin aloft, grinning sweetly. "It's a pumpkin."

Draco snorted and sat across from her. Other people were dotted about the Great Hall at this late hour due to the torrential rain outside, and Hermione had chosen the completely empty Ravenclaw table, so that Draco could sit with her and be more at ease. "I'm familiar with the vegetable, Hermione. What I meant was what are you doing, carving into it?"

Hermione mock-gasped, scandalized. "You're telling me you've never carved a jack-o'-lantern?"

"No," he replied, as if this were obvious.

"Are you telling me that Purebloods don't carve pumpkins for Halloween?" she asked, saddened to learn that so many young witches and wizards had missed out on such merriment and joyous memories.

"If the other families do, I certainly haven't ever seen one. But no, Malfoy's don't carve pumpkins. Certainly not by hand, anyway. Maybe the house elves do them. What brought this about, anyway? It's a rare thing that makes you put down your beloved books for half a second."

"Draco," she chided.

"Need I remind you of last week? When I found you, asleep, drooling on your book in a committee meeting?"

"I was not drooling," she grumbled, but couldn't hide her smile.

"Whatever you say."

"I'm doing this because Headmistress McGonagall thought it would be nice if the students made them and put them around the castle. There's a competition for the best one. Or were you asleep this morning when she announced it?"

Draco waved her comment away. "What's the prize?" he asked. Typical Draco, ever the competitor.

"50 points for your house and an extra Hogsmeade visit. But you're not allowed to use magic," Hermione explained.

"I see."

Draco left without another word and came back with a pumpkin and some cutting tools. He plopped down the orange vegetable with a thunk. "Right. Tell me how I do this."

Hermione explained the basics, and when she got to scooping out the seeds and guts Draco visibly recoiled and shrieked, "I'm not putting my hands in that!" which caused Hermione to burst into a fit of giggles that lasted a good three minutes. They say carving in companionable silence, sawing gently, sometimes standing to get the best angle so that their cuts were neat, shoulders brushing slightly. When it indeed came for Draco to scoop out his pumpkin's innards, the look of horror and revulsion on his face was too priceless, she had to take a picture of it.

At her raised brow, she raised one right back and said, "What? I wanted to show Harry my masterpiece."

"Yeah, masterpiece of crap." In response, she threw her own pumpkin guts at him, watching as it slid down his face and plopped onto his robes with a sucking smack.

"You are so paying for that, Granger." And like the mature adults they were, they threw pumpkins seeds and gloop at each other, not caring about the mess they made or the people gawking at the sight of Hermione Granger using her pumpkin like a shield as Draco threw bits of his own pumpkin at her.

After they'd calmed down, Draco took a spare piece of parchment from his bag. Hermione peered over his shoulder, laughing as Draco hastily covered what he'd been doing.

"You're sketching out your pumpkin design? Seriously?"

"What?" he said, affronted. "I want to make sure everything's perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. I thought you would probably be using a measuring stick and one of those proraptor things."

"It's a protractor, and no, I'm not; I like to just freestyle it, do it by eyeball. Not everything has to be perfect, Draco."

Draco chuckled. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

"That's uncalled for. I can be spontaneous when I want to be."

"I'll be sure to make a note of that for future reference."

In the end, they decided that although Hermione's classic pumpkin design was true to the spirit of Halloween, Draco's elaborately carved lion and snake was indeed the most creative -although Hermione could have sworn the snake was sticking it's forked tongue out at the lion. The pair sat there, grinning while their pumpkins cast flickering shadows on the table between them, soft and inviting swirls of light.

Hermione took out her camera. "Don't forget to smile," she said, and snapped a few pictures of the two. While she did like wizarding photographs, she preferred her Muggle ones; they seemed to capture expression better, hone in on one singular moment rather than several which allowed you to enjoy that singular moment. Draco and Hermione cast preserving spells on their creations and gently floated them up to the teacher's table, where a few students had already placed theirs. They'd both carved their initials on the lids, and it seemed the other students had as well.

At the sight of Luna's pumpkin, the two couldn't help but laugh. It was a rendering of the Giant Squid in the lake, holding a pumpkin aloft with it's tentacles, reminiscent of a certain Disney scene with a monkey and a lion. Draco looked confused as Hermione began to humm 'The Circle of Life,' but she just laughed and said it was a mickey take of a famous Muggle film scene.

"You're so weird sometimes," Draco remarked.

"Weird is good. Everyone needs a little weird, otherwise life would be so very boring."

"I can't argue with that."

Hermione smirked. "No, you can't."

Narcissa was at the kitchen table, throwing together a hasty lunch for two, when her owl swooped in through the open window, ruffling the salad leaves in the bowl in front of her. He pecked at a slice of tomato and waited for his lady to retrieve her post.

"Thank you," she murmured, untying the bundle from his leg. She placed a bowl of owl treats in front of him; tomato could not be good for an owl's digestive system. "Here you are." The owl chirped in acknowledgment as she opened the letter, Draco's handwriting as distinct and familiar to her as her own. The owl flew off without her notice. Narcissa lent against the kitchen table, laughing at her son's words. Really, he could be ever so dramatic.

"What's got you laughing?" her sister Andromeda asked, lips quirked at her sister's response.

"It seems that Draco has discovered the noble art of pumpkin carving, but was beaten by Ginny Weasley, who's carving of a 'psycho cat wearing Quidditch robes performing a half-baked Wronski Feint seemed to somehow please the Gryffindor Headmistress.' He even sent this," she said, showing the picture of her smiling son and his friend to her sister.

"That's Hermione Granger," she exclaimed.

"Yes."

"As in, war heroine, defeater of Voldemort, best friends with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger."

"Yes, unless there's another one I don't know about," Narcissa quipped. "What of it, Andy."

"She's a Muggleborn."

"I'm well aware of her heritage, sister. What's it to you?"

"It just didn't expect Draco to have changed so drastically in such a short time, that's all."

"Friendship does wonders for the complexion, as well as the soul."

"He looks happy," Andy remarked, returning the photograph.

Narcissa smiled glad that her sister had noticed. Although, it wasn't like he was trying to hide it. She had not seen her boy like that for so long, it was like a fist to her heart. His robes and tie were stained, there looked like there was possibly seeds in his hair, but he son seemed oblivious. All he was looking at was...

"He must really care for her," her sister said.

She looked up, startled from her thoughts. "Yes, I believe he does."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"No, no of course not, Andy. Not after everything that's happened, my son's closeness with Miss Granger does not bother me in the slightest. Is you being here not proof enough?"

"I know, Cissy, I know. And I'm sorry. I suppose I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were. My heart has shattered so many times over the last year, too many times, and I was expecting the same to happen again. I guess I'm not the only one who's life has changed."

"No, that's true."

"Does Draco know about my visiting you?" Andy asked delicately.

Narcissa sighed. "I haven't told him yet. I'm not sure why, really. You yourself can see that Draco is a different boy to who he was a year ago, or even six months ago. And I know that he'd love to meet you, and Teddy. But I know the situation with his father is eating at him. Merlin, it's eating at me as well. Whilst Draco does not care about what his father may think of his new attitude to Muggeborns and the importance of a Pureblood status. I'm worried that Lucius may squander that. He wants to see him, at Christmas. He told me the last time we spoke."

Andromeda moved to stand beside her sister, arm around her shoulders in solidarity and comfort. "What are you going to do about it?"

Narcissa snorted. "There's not much I can do, is there? Lucius will have his way, with or without my involvement. But it will be brutal, and I wanted us to have a nice Christmas together, like we used to."

"If you need me, you know I'm here for you, Cissy. I'll go right to Azkaban and punch the bastard in the face."

"No, Andy, don't. He's still my husband, and I still love him. Merlin knows why, but he is still the love of my life."

"I know, which is what makes everything so much harder, doesn't it? I'm sure i'd feel the same way if it was Ted."

Narcissa let out a long sigh, fingers playing distractedly with the long handle of a nearby kitchen knife.

"Ted never tortured innocent people, Andy. Ted didn't bow at the feet of Voldemort and almost destroy our family in the process. Ted was a hero, who died for what he believed in. It's strange, sometimes I wonder what might have happened, if i had met him and he had not been the proud Pureblood that he is, if he had not had this hate and darkness in him, the darkness that drove him to Voldemort and his ilk. But then he would not be my Lucius, would he? And I would not have married him, for I too was just as hidebound and proud as he, if not moreso. I suppose who he is and who I now am simply no longer fit as we once did."

Andromeda gripped her sister's hand, gaze unfaltering and proud as always.

"No you don't, Cissy. But that's nothing to be ashamed of, to feel hurt by. We have not spoken in over twenty years, but here we are now, in your kitchen, talking about you and your son who have done the impossible: changed. I never believed all that garbage that our mother spewed, that all our relatives fed us on. But you took to it like bread and butter. And you were like that for decades, then you have the power and the bravery to look at the world and decide to be better, to want to be better. There's no reason why you can't try the same with Lucius. While I hate his guts, I know he loves you, and love is a powerful motivator."

Narcissa let go, retreating into the fears that plagued her. "But so is power, we both know that, Andy. He would see it as a lessening of himself, a watering of his credibility and prowess and whatever other nonsense things he'd come up with."

"You could threaten to divorce him," Andromeda offered, voice barely above a whisper.

"I could. But he would rather lose me than lose himself," Narcissa said, tears in her eyes and in her voice.

"Then he does not deserve you trying to save him, sister. Come on, let's have lunch."

"Let me guess, you've been starving for ten minutes but were too polite to interrupt my ramble."

"Hey, I love a good ramble. Jogs the liver. Actually, I've been hungry since you came in the kitchen and said "Are you hungry?'"

"Some things never change, do they?"

"Indeed, my being hungry is a universal constant."

"Where do you even come up with this snark?" Narcissa asked, genuinely bewildered.

"My 'Snark Palace,' of course. It's why I'm always so hungry; snark takes calories."

"Fair enough. Now, do you actually want to eat this salad or just talk about it?"

Andromeda wrinkled he nose. "Salad? Seriously Narcissa? What are we, five?"

"Despite you acting like one, no, we are not. It's important to eat healthy."

"Yeah, if you're a rabbit."

"I hope you won't tell Teddy that," Narcissa retorted.

"Of course I won't. Because he's a baby and I'm an adult, therefore I don't have to subject myself to a leafy green hell."

"Eat the salad, Andromeda."

"Fine, fine. We should probably go see what Teddy's up to; the little one inherited more than just his mother's Metamorphagus talents, is all I'm saying."

The two retreated to the comforts of the living room, quiet so as not to wake the sleeping infant. It was still strange to Narcissa, still foreign to lead such a relaxed and simple life, going from grand and elaborate yet stilted dinners in the formal Malfoy dining room to sweet and intimate and relaxed lunches and teas with her sister. That first time, Andromeda had not brought Teddy, had expected her sister was up to something and had used several vulgar curse words to articulate her feelings to her only living sibling. But she had let her scream. She'd stood there and taken it.

Until her sister had paused, had realized that Narcissa had not drawn her wand, had not moved from her spot by the front door. Until she'd seen the hurt and regret and loss in her eyes, and realized that this Narcissa was not the one she had last seen, all those many decades ago. But she had allowed Narcissa to explain, to apologize, to practically beg for Andromeda's forgiveness, even if it smarted her pride. And she had accepted. The next time, she had brought little Teddy.

Indeed, at the sight of them, he opened his eyes, smiling innocently. How could she have seen someone so sweet and loving as beneath her, as lesser, once upon a time? Teddy waved a tiny fist at her, and Narcissa waved back as Andy picked him up from the cot she had brought, kissing him on the cheek and making him giggle.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we Andy? Everything is going to turn out well in the end, isn't it?" Narcissa asked unexpectedly, a worried timbre to her voice.

Andy put Teddy down. "Of course. Why did you say that?"

"I don't know. I just have this unsettled feeling that I can't quite put my finger on. It's probably nothing." Narcissa said, sitting down on the sofa.

Andromeda nodded in agreement, but neither was convinced.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone. Happy Sunday! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was certainly an interesting challenge to write, since the two points if view are so jarringly different, as well as the tone of each scene. Let me know what you thought about Andromeda, I had a great time trying to get into her mind. The next chapter will feature two special people who we haven't seen much of lately. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

All my love, Temperance Cain