Theo's office looked much the same as it had nine years ago. Rather than a shrine to his achievements, the room served as home to rows and rows of filing cabinets that surrounded a wide, cluttered desk. The desk held an artist's palette of different inks and parchments, all labelled according to their colour and usage, as well as an overflowing inbox and outbox. Three chairs rounded out the furniture: A large, official-looking leather chair with a long white wig jauntily hanging over the back, and two smaller tufted chairs across from the desk, adorned with brass nailheads. A solitary window presided over it all, fogged over with moisture.

Malfoy, eyes-closed, slumped in one of the tufted chairs, his long arms laying limply over the armrests. He wore the same clothes as the day before, and Hermione detected the faint scent of alcohol. Whatever Theo had summoned them here for, it wasn't good. She stepped over his legs and a pile of documents and sat on the edge of the other chair as Theo entered the room.

"Hermione, Draco," he nodded to both of them. Malfoy didn't stir.

Theo slapped his hand on the desk. "Draco!"

Malfoy opened one eye lazily. "Oh, are you holding court now? I think you have to say 'May it please your Honour….'" He waved his hand in a motion for Theo to continue.

"I doubt you'll think you're funny once you read this." Theo shoved a copy of Witch Weekly into Malfoy's lap. Hermione snatched it away from him before he could open it.

It wasn't front-page news — there'd been another Death Eater rally that devolved into violence outside the Ministry which made top billing — but it was close enough.

Hermione read it aloud.

GONE GIRL GRANGER SEEN WITH MISCREANT MALFOY.

This journalist finds it highly suspicious that only a day after the death of Lucius Malfoy II, his son Draco Malfoy was spotted canoodling with Hermione Granger near St. Mungo's Hospital. My confidential source tells me Mr. Malfoy visited the morgue to identify his father's remains alongside his solicitor, Mr. Theodore Nott of Nott and Associates. Might Ms. Granger have been providing much needed emotional support to her beau in the wake of such tragedy? Perhaps she's been in hiding, since surely the deceased would not approve of his son romancing a Muggleborn. While we here at Witch Weekly are no fans of Death Eaters, we do love a good redemption story, and it seems Ms. Granger has seen something in the Malfoy heir. We've reached out to Nott and Associates, and it appears a statement is forthcoming. I think I speak for all of us when I say we are eager to see how this love story unfolds.

Malfoy leaned in, his eyes scanning the picture of them in the alleyway, which featured Hermione reaching out trying to touch him in an infinite loop. The angle made it look as if they'd been caught in a moment of intimacy. He loomed over her longer than was comfortable, so Hermione relinquished the paper to Malfoy and picked up one of Theo's inkpots, fiddling with it to keep her hands distracted. She wanted to wring Malfoy's neck.

"We never should've been there," she said with a toss of her curls.

At this, Malfoy burst to life. He was like a cat, one moment lounging lazily in the sun, the next moment a blur of teeth and claws. "You should have never been in London with the most pitiful excuse for a glamour I've ever seen! Longbottom disguised himself better than that in fourth year. Then I wouldn't have had to drag you out of a crowded waiting room to the nearest private back alley."

He stood, angrily throwing the paper to the floor. It took its time floating down, which spoiled his intended effect. Hermione couldn't help her smug smile. She opened her mouth to respond when Theo spoke.

"Since we don't have Time-Turners, the discussion of who was where and why is moot. We have to move forward. Now, as the article said, I've promised a statement. Your marriage will inevitably be revealed, and I think it's better if the news comes directly from our camp."

Our camp? Did Theo really expect her to be full Team Malfoy because of one article?

Malfoy gave voice to her thoughts. "Our camp? What's your grand plan, Theo?"

"Move in together."

"You can't expect me to live with her in my flat," Draco sneered.

Hermione leapt up from her chair and shot him her most withering glare. "You couldn't pay me to move in with you, especially not in your flat."

Malfoy didn't back down. Instead, he stepped close to her so they stood toe to toe. He peered down at her as he spoke. "You're right, I already pay you an astronomical amount to be my wife."

Hermione lifted her hand to hurl the inkpot at him with everything she had, but he wandlessly Vanished it. "Fuck you, Malfoy!" She reached for another, even larger pot full of crimson ink, but he'd moved away, and her aim was poor.

Malfoy, a practised Seeker, merely sidestepped the projectile. It crashed through the wall, leaving a jagged hole surrounded by blood-red spatter.

"Draco —" Theo cautioned, but he was interrupted.

"Fuck me indeed. There'd be nothing in that paper right now if you'd stayed away like you promised. I've held up my end."

She balled her fists at her sides as she yelled back at him. "Your end was much easier! You have no idea what I've endured the past nine years!"

The blonde's movements turned lazy again as he crept closer to her again. "Really? Oh, poor Mrs. Malfoy, living in one of her many idyllic properties, spending thousands of Galleons a month on whatever she fancies while never lifting a finger…."

"Whatever I fancy? Never lifting a finger?" Hermione knew without being able to see herself that she was red in the face. She stepped into his frame defiantly.

He tucked a finger under her chin like she was a child and tutted, further stoking her rage. His eyes met hers, only slivers of grey peeking around black pupils. "Don't say I don't take care of you."

She found herself unable to tear away, the heat of Malfoy's chest radiating into hers. His arm flexed, challenging her to refute him. Whatever fiery retort she'd planned died on her tongue.

Theo cleared his throat at a volume far louder than necessary. "Malfoys!"

Hermione jumped back from him as if burned, but Malfoy merely turned his head towards Theo. As she returned to her seat, she winced at the damage she'd done to Theo's wall. He seemed to sense her regret and directed his attention to her first as he came around the desk and leaned against it.

"Hermione, do you think this will all just go away? You could empty the Malfoy bank accounts trying to shut this story down and they wouldn't bat an eye. Think about it. The Golden Girl out with the Death Eater is all they had today. But I guarantee you someone at The Daily Prophet is down in the Ministry Records department right now looking up everything about you both. Your marriage certificate will be on the front page tomorrow. Tomorrow, Hermione. Are you ready for everyone to know everything, and I mean everything, on top of that? If we get ahead of it, anything else you want to keep private has a chance to stay that way."

Hermione shuffled in her seat. He was right.

"And Draco, before this photo, public opinion of you couldn't be lower. But the angelic glow of the Golden Girl here could go a long way in rehabbing your image. We can shape the narrative. You're star-crossed lovers avoiding the spotlight, afraid of judgement for your love."

Malfoy snorted. Theo dismissed this and continued. "I know you've changed. We've been friends for years. But the world at large doesn't know that. They spit at you, for Merlin's sake. Aren't you tired of it?"

"If they'd drop their assumptions —"

"What's easier, to get someone to believe something else, or to affirm what they see?" Theo's voice held a heavy, resigned sadness.

Hermione watched as something passed between the two men. Malfoy clenched his jaw before sitting back in his chair. What was that about?

After a beat, Theo continued. "They see a war heroine comforting a Death Eater after his father died. A woman with a pure heart reaching out to touch your black one."

"My pure heart," she laughed miserably, avoiding Malfoy's eyes. "But Theo's right. It won't be hard to convince them we're happily married. I've had a lot of experience with reporters. I might need a refresher, but if I could handle Rita Skeeter as a teenager, I can certainly flirt with a few reporters looking for a love story."

"We'll need a bit more than that, I think. A solid backstory and a wardrobe befitting a Malfoy, for starters. But it sounds like we've convinced you?" Theo sounded eager, hopeful.

Hermione hesitated before answering. "You have. But I have conditions. The big one is that my parents have to come with me."

"You do realise we're married and you don't need a chaperone, let alone two?" Malfoy didn't meet her eyes, busying himself with non-existent specks of lint on his jumper.

The man was insufferable.

"They are fully reliant on me at this point. You've no idea the extent of their memory issues. I owe them everything, Malfoy." Her eyes watered, a hot tear rolling down her cheek. She chastised herself for showing him the depth of her devotion. He'd only find a way to use it against her.

But just as before, Malfoy's shoulders softened and he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. "I — of course. It's a large flat, and there's plenty of room. I don't have any house elves — yes, I remember your activist phase — but I employ a housekeeper, Mrs. Tannenbaum. She's a Squib. Very resourceful woman. Get her a list of what you need and she'll make sure you and your parents are as comfortable as possible during your stay."

She nodded, incapable of a larger reaction to his uncharacteristic display of kindness. "Thank you."

Theo clapped his hands together. "Hermione, probably best for you to go back to Cyclamen and pack for a few weeks. I doubt it'll go longer than that. Blaise can help transport your parents. We can talk more about your additional conditions tomorrow. Draco and I have a few things to sort out here."

Malfoy nodded to Theo in acknowledgement. "I'll change the Floo wards. Address is 10 Ennismore Gardens, Kensington."

Hermione wiped her cheek and eyes before standing and steadying herself. "Alright. Alright. This is happening."

Draco clenched his jaw. Theo swooped in to end the conversation. "Draco will see you and your parents tonight then?"

"Yes," she whispered. "See you tonight."

Draco didn't expect to watch his wife walk out the door, but he found himself mesmerised by the gentle sway of her hips. As she left his line of sight, he realised himself and shut the door more firmly than intended. Theo, who never missed a chance to aggravate his friend, gave him a knowing smile.

He remained standing, resisting the urge to punch something. Granger had the right idea, heaving the nearest weighty object through the air, even if it was directed at him.

"I know we have to do this, but it's a fucking terrible idea, Theo."

"I just laid out why it's fucking brilliant. One of my best ideas, really." Theo sifted through his desk drawers, ostensibly searching for a replacement inkpot.

"It's dangerous for any woman to be associated with me. I don't particularly care for Granger, but I don't want her to end up dead."

Theo sighed, giving up on his pursuit. "I highly doubt she's in any danger now that Lucius is gone."

"Whoever he sent to kill them might still be out there. The Aurors never opened a case, they didn't even accuse me of anything, and we still don't know why!" Punching something sounded better and better with each passing moment.

"Draco, you have a mountain of problems already. Don't add to them."

Draco lowered his voice for his next admission. "I have more than you know about. I thought I saw someone, two nights ago."

"Who? A Death Eater?"

Draco nodded.

"Were you sober?"

Draco hesitated. "Not exactly."

Theo looked as if he wanted to bite back his next words. "Is it becoming a problem again?"

"No, no. I'd had a whisky. It won't be like that again, Theo. You have my word."

It had been all too easy, once Granger was gone and the accounts at Gringotts were transferred to him, to spin out. Draco obsessed over the paper, waiting for the Aurors to drag him back to Azkaban. But as months passed without Dementors darkening his doorstep, he decided to take matters into his own hands, doggedly following Death Eaters all over the continent. He ran to exhaustion, duelled for hours — first with Theo, but then with anyone who looked at him the wrong way. It was never enough, and as the years stretched on with no leads, he needed to fill the hours with something else.

It started innocently enough. Draco had always been a talented potioneer. He brewed late into the night, not sure what he sought to create. The temptation to sample his own wares became too great, and before long he popped potions to sleep, stay awake, feel something, feel nothing.

After months of missed duelling appointments, Theo tracked him to a club in Berlin, where he found his schoolmate-turned-client passed out beneath the strobe lights, slouched in the corner in a state of undress unbecoming of the richest wizard in Britain. Theo was no stranger to the insidious arms of addiction, and with the help of Mrs. Tannenbaum, he provided the round-the-clock care that wrenched Draco from the potions' deadly embrace.

Since then, Draco couldn't so much as look at even the most benign brew.

"Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"What, that my father dies, a Death Eater makes their presence known right outside the flat, and my wife reappears?"

"You're right. I don't doubt you, Draco. You know I'll always believe you." Theo clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder.

He'd arrived at Theo's office many years ago now, covered in blood and tears, shaking and desperate. The former Slytherin Head Boy stopped him from going to the Aurors first, which would have only ended in a second, endless stint in Azkaban. Theo saved his life.

"I know," Draco reached out and hugged him. "And I'll always believe you. If you think this farce with — what do I even call her?"

"Try 'Hermione.' I think Mrs. Malfoy might be a little too formal, even for you."

Hermione? Nope, that wasn't going to happen. "If you think this farce with Granger will help things, I'll do it."

"I do. I want justice for your mother and your former fiancee as much as you do, and I think your association with the Golden Girl is our only hope. She's got friends in high places. Can you at least try saying Mrs. Malfoy? She'll come around to it once you both get settled in. I think we'll need to bring in the big wands to make it all believable, though."

Theo could only mean one person. "No. Absolutely not. Do not bring her into this."

The devilish solicitor was already leaning into the hallway. "Dovie! Can you get me…." He was out of earshot, but Draco knew exactly whose help Theo wanted.