Later that same evening after returning home Pierre immediately excused himself, sensing he needed to give the two reluctant lovebirds a pit of privacy. He hadn't missed the subtle change in demeanor of his daughter about half way through the afternoon. While she'd smiled politely and introduced her betrothed to their circle of friends and acquaintances, the tightness around her eyes gave her away.

Young Draco had been the model picture of perfect Pureblood decorum throughout the day. Winning over nearly everyone, except Jean-Baptiste, who spent the entirety of the afternoon skulking around the party with his usual disaffected bored disdain.

After Pierre had disappeared from view, Hermione gestured to Draco to follow her, which he did. They'd made their way into the floo room before Draco grabbed her hand to halt their progress.

"Can we talk?"

Hermione glanced up into worried gray eyes and inwardly sighed. She knew it would be so easy to refuse the request, but this was the wizard she was to marry, and regardless of her own feelings on the matter, Draco was only human. It was also clear he didn't care easily. She was desperately trying to be mature about this situation, but it didn't mean she wasn't hurt.

"Sure."

She allowed him to offer his arm, and they walked out towards the gardens, which were lit up with small torches along the main path, leading out to the gazebo.

It was there they took refuge.

It didn't take long for Draco to speak, and when he did, his tone was nearly emotionless.

"I'm sorry about today."

Hermione hummed, averting her gaze towards her mother's rose garden. Her lips lifting into a wistful smile.

"Don't be," she offered kindly, "it's just so much to process. I still find myself trying to reconcile the Malfoy from Hogwarts, to the Draco I see before me."

"How's that working so far?"

His tone was now a bit cheeky, and Hermione found herself actually giggling.

"It's a work in progress." She admitted with a huff. "I've always known you were a complicated wizard, Draco. Nothing in my opinion has changed in that regard, but seeing how much you care for Astoria, makes me both sad and hopeful."

He nodded slowly, silently admitting that Hermione's point of view was pretty spot on.

"I've never been good with my emotions, even as a child." He spoke up lowly, and Hermione turned to glance at him, and could see storm clouds brewing in those deep gray eyes. "There were so many times I've wished to have more freedom, to not be weighed down with expectation. It's even right to say I've resented my lot in life, especially after the Dark Lord returned. But through it all, there was Astoria. She kept me afloat when things were bleakest, and perhaps it was just that hope of what we might have someday, that I needed to keep me going."

"I get it." Hermione squeezed his hand gently. "I've had those feelings about Harry for years. Being friends with Ron complicated things, and as you know, he's not always the easiest person to deal with, but he has such a good heart. Ron has always been in Harry's shadow, but he's relished in that position too. However, when we were out on the run, everything came to a head one night and Ron left. He was gone for a few months, and it was just me and Harry. We only had each other to rely on. I'd tried to deny my feelings for years, but I couldn't anymore after that. So I do understand your loyalty to Astoria. I wish I could set you free, Draco."

He shushed her quickly. "Hermione, please don't worry yourself over it. As much as I care for Astoria, what I can promise you is that I'll always be faithful to our relationship."

"Out of obligation?"

"Maybe I thought that at first, but I've come to see another side of you, one in which I'm finding myself growing quite enamoured of. Your kindness, strength and cunning are traits that are infinitely attractive. But it's your loyalty that is second to none. I saw it that fateful day, and it never ceases to amaze me."

She blushed, but her smile was tremulous as she gazed up into bright eyes that were watching her closely.

"I've come to see a different side of you too, Draco. I sometimes find myself wishing things could've been different for us at school. Wondering what it might've been like to have you as a friend."

He chuckled at that. "You would've still thought me to be a prat, love."

"Probably."

"Most definitely. Not to worry though, I'm sure you'll find new and interesting ways to hex me as we navigate our lives together."

"And Harry?"

Draco pushed his right hand through his hair, and Hermione could see that he was struggling a bit.

"Potter…sorry, Harry…has always worn his heart on his sleeve. There's a part of his personality I'm woefully unequipped to deal with. You're the same in some regard, but you're more pragmatic than he is. We're quite opposite in how we react to things."

"True, but that doesn't mean it's me and Harry against you, Draco. We're a team in this, I hope you know that's what I want."

His face registered surprise, before his expression softened noticeably. He then gently cupped her cheeks, and Hermione could almost feel him asking for permission.

She nodded subtly, and saw Draco's lips lift slightly, before he leant down and took her lips with his own.

She immediately responded, following his lead. This kiss was quite different than before, there was no hesitation in deepening the kiss, nor did Draco seem hesitant about taking what he wanted. The soft moan that fell from her lips, had him gripping the back of her head with his left hand, as he continued to cup her cheek and maneuver her mouth expertly with his own.

For a split second, Hermione was aware enough to realize her response to Draco was different to that of Harry's attentions. But the pounding of her heart and the butterflies erupting in her stomach were a totally new experience. She felt almost dizzy with the sensation.

She didn't protest when Draco pulled her into his lap, his left hand still holding her head, his right wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. The short breath they took gave way to another passionate kiss.

Eventually, they broke apart and Hermione felt her body sighing with pleasure when Draco's forehead gently touched her own, almost submissively. His duality of stoic resolve and tender caring was beyond attractive, but it was the latter part of his personality she was fairly certain, he kept close and out of reach to most.

The fact that he was choosing to try and be more open and honest with her, made those butterflies explode in earnest. Her eyes lifted and met slate gray, which were watching her with such intensity, it caused her to shiver. A reaction Draco didn't miss, his lifted smirk giving him away.

"You know," he began, "I've always known on some level my choice of bride would not fully be my own."

"I know, you have mentioned that once or twice."

He hummed, "Even so, I'm not unhappy about this, Hermione."

"Not anymore?"

He chuckled, and it was soft and genuine. "Touché, but yes. Not anymore."

"Me either. Do you suppose there will ever come a time where our shared past won't define us?"

Draco thought about the question, but after a moment shrugged. "I think to those that don't truly know us, yes. You will always be the golden girl, the brightest witch of the age. I will always be seen as a failed Death Eater. A byproduct of my upbringing, and before you protest, it's not a bad thing, love. Some sins, shouldn't be forgotten. If I ever need a reminder of my mistakes, all I have to do is look at my left forearm." He then gently took her left forearm, and Hermione watched closely as Draco carefully pulled up her dress sleeve and glanced down at the spot where Bellatrix had carved that offensive word. He lifted her forearm carefully and sighed in what sounded an awful lot like relief. "It's almost gone."

"It is."

He nodded and pulled her out of his lap, kneeling down in front of her while still keeping ahold of her arm. "How?"

Hermione glanced at the faded scar and replied, "It's a family secret. From what I've been led to understand, it was something created by my great-grandfather."

"Which side of the family?"

"My Father's."

Draco ran a gentle finger over the hated word, his expression pulling into a grimace. "I'm so sorry about that night, Hermione. I wish I could've been braver."

Hermione quickly cupped Draco's cheeks within her hands, shaking her head ruefully.

"We both know you did what you could. Bellatrix was mad, Draco. We both know if you'd done anything to stop her, she would've hurt or killed you. Her only loyalty was to Voldemort."

Draco shivered in disgust at the name, and Hermione so wanted to roll her eyes, but didn't. It wasn't fair of her to expect Draco to have the same reaction to the deranged wizard who'd lived in his ancestral home for over a year. She could only just imagine what kinds of atrocities Draco was privy to during that time. She also wondered if he would ever feel safe enough to share the truth of that time with her.

"Is it alright if I ask you a question?"

Startled gray eyes lifted, and then shuttered, but he did nod in reply.

"Have you ever talked to anyone about that time?"

Draco's brow furrowed, but then his lips pursed in displeasure. "No, it's not something that we discuss in our family. At least not in the ways you're thinking. My Father tends to make passive-aggressive comments when confronted with his shortcomings, while my Mother is more about cold silences and looks. When she speaks, or chooses to, her remarks are usually direct and to the point. Otherwise, her tactics are inherently Slytherin and you'll not find anyone more capable of manipulation than she. Of her sister's, Mother has always been the strongest, both intellectually and magically."

"Stronger than Bellatrix?"

Draco chuckled again at the shocked expression on Hermione's face.

"Oh, yes! My Mother has never been one to openly show her prowess, but trust me, she's quite gifted." Draco's expression took on a melancholy wistful sadness, and Hermione could see how much he loved Narcissa. "If Bellatrix hadn't been freed from Azkaban, I've no doubt Mother would've taken me and absconded somewhere safe until after the war was over."

"Ah. Blood magic."

"Yes." Draco confirmed with a touch of distaste. "Blacks can track immediate family members through blood. Usually just parents and siblings. But once I was marked…"

"Is that why?"

"Maybe part of it, but mostly it was due to my Father's failures. I also believe it was a way to control my Mum. The Dark Lord was quite good at parlaying any weakness amongst his followers for his own benefit."

Hermione just nodded in agreement, but there was one thing she was quite curious about and had been for years now.

"I've been wondering about something for a while now, and was hoping you might…"

Her voice fell away with a tinge of uncertainty, but Draco nodded, his expression openly intrigued.

"The World Cup…"

The flinch on Draco's face said more than his actual answer, and Hermione felt her own body recoiling a bit. But after a moment, he sighed sadly.

"The truth isn't going to recommend me to you, Hermione. I don't think I really understood the full atrocities of what the Death Eaters were capable of at that time. I was fourteen, and still an ignorant shite. I wanted to scare you, and maybe on some subconscious level it was meant to be a warning, but indoctrination is a hard habit to break from." He carefully pulled back his left sleeve, and winced at the Dark Mark branded there. "This thing, whatever you might choose to think of the boy I was before this was branded on my arm, didn't truly understand the consequences of his words and actions. He was an insulated little shite, protected by his parents and status. I didn't get it then, Hermione. Which is no excuse, I know. I'm never going to be fully reformed, nor am I ever going to be truly comfortable in the muggle world. I'll make the attempt for you, and to make up for my mistakes, but I'm not sure if it's possible to make up for years of being a hateful, prejudiced arse."

Draco lowered his head in shame, and Hermione could see him struggling to keep his Occlumency shields up. However, she didn't respond. She just waited for him to continue, which he did eventually.

After a few tense moments of silence, Draco lifted his head again, but this time, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "That day in sixth year when Harry cursed me?" She nodded, so he forged on, "I was scared for my Mum, but there was another part of me that just wanted to be free. I didn't want to kill Dumbledore, I didn't want to kill anyone. I think it was when I was lying in the hospital afterwards, and the feeling of utter hopelessness I felt…was when I knew for certain there was no going back. By the time the final battle came, I just wanted Harry to kill the bastard."

Hermione sniffled, and reached for Draco's hand, giving it another gentle squeeze.

"Thank you for being honest with me. Forgiveness is a process, Draco. Regret and remorse are the first steps to repentance. You must decide for yourself what kind of man you want to be, and eventually what kind of Father you want to be to our children. I know you have the capacity to love inside of you, but you also have the capacity for great cruelty and hate. I'd like to believe the Draco I see before me has finally made the choice to grasp onto the former, and leave the latter behind. But you have to know, that I won't tolerate that other side of you, Draco. So I need to know before we take these next steps into our future together, can you promise me to leave that cruel boy behind?"

Draco eyed his betrothed, and could see fierce steely resolve in Hermione's amber eyes. The color of firewhiskey challenging him to make the right choice, the better choice.

"I can." He replied shakily, clearing his throat to get rid of the emotive swell of emotion threatening to bubble over, "I will, Hermione. I vow it on my magic that I will try everyday, to be a better man for you and our family, so mote it be."

Hermione felt the force of Draco's promise wash over her, and she smiled in relief. She then repeated the same vow back to him, realizing it was the fair and right thing to do. When she finished the words and her magic settled, Draco gave her a genuine smile.

"Thank you." He murmured with feeling.

"For what?"

"For giving me a chance at happiness. I wasn't always sure I deserved it, but in recent months, I've become even more hopeful. Dare say, it's a borderline need now, which is a very new experience for me."

"Recognizing what you need to be truly happy is good, Draco." She admitted sincerely. "And definitely something we can work with."