((A/N)) I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. In the country where I live, classes start on June while in other countries June is the vacation. So, I had to adjust with my blessed schedule before I found time to continue this fic. But, I promise, I'll update faster next time. (Less than a month, I mean.)

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Chapter Thirteen

Rainbow after the Rain

"No wonder Hermione liked him…" Ron murmured as Harry and he sat in the conference room, waiting for Percy Weasley, the Minister, to come and start their meeting.

Harry had just told Ron about his conversation with Ginny that morning.

"Devon reminded Hermione of Draco." Harry replied offhandedly as he took out a folder of his department's report.

"Still, Harry," Ron wrinkled his brow. "It's not just the facial expressions and physical appearance that has resemblance to Malfoy. I think it's too much of a coincidence, don't you think that he almost has the same attitude that Malfoy has?"

"Are you implying that they're the same person?"

"Maybe not… You don't suppose that he is the reincarnation, is he?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Ron shrugged. "It was just a thought." He got his own report out of his folder.

"Ron," Harry said after a few seconds of silence. "Don't you think they are the same person?"

"There are times that I had wondered, but, mate, Draco Malfoy is dead. I mean, you were there." Ron faced Harry. "You were one of those who investigated his death, right?"

Harry fidgeted. "Yes, but there is something that I failed to include in the investigation…"

Ron gaped. "Are you telling me that Draco is alive?"

"There is a possibility." Harry said slowly.

"Why? I mean, how come there is a possibility?" Ron prodded.

Harry sighed. "Remember how reports and news articles stated that only pieces of his clothes were left? And that he was incinerated due to the explosion?"

Ron nodded.

"Well, other than the clothes, no other thing in the site had any indication that he died. I think he vanished out of thin air, which is not so impossible in the Wizarding world, right?"

Ron nodded, doing his best to comprehend what was being said.

"Do you know what DNA is?"

"No."

Harry sighed once more. "Well, it's a Muggle concept that each person has a unique set of DNA. Thus DNA is used by the Muggles to solve crimes and so on. Anyway, there was no trace of his DNA on any kind of substance that resembles something turned into ash. But since the other investigators who were with me were narrow-minded, they insisted that Draco Malfoy was indeed dead and did not wait for the DNA test results. They said it was too Muggle and that they don't trust Muggle technology since magical compounds are different from what Muggles know. Nevertheless, I pursued my theory. All the samples returned negative."

Ron was about to reply when Percy Weasley came and announced the start of the meeting.

---

"Hey Joan, want to go play Quidditch? Me and the boys will be at the pitch after breakfast." Andrei asked in between spoonfuls of food.

"Maybe, and by the way, watch your grammar." Joan responded as she untied the Daily Prophet from the owl that delivered it.

"Come on, Joan, give us a definite answer." James pleaded as he took a gulp of pumpkin juice. "It's Saturday and you weren't there with us yesterday."

Joan remained in shocked silence as she read the front page of the Daily Prophet.

James noticed the look on Joan's face. "Joan, what's wrong?"

Joan placed the paper on the table for Andrei and James to see.

The headline read: "Hoodlums in Black Attack Daily Prophet's Chief Editor".

James read passages from the article. "'Editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, Hermione Granger-Malfoy, was attacked at her home last night after the Commemoration. Due to the remote vicinity of her home, the only other witness to the said ambush is Devon Black, Prophet's photographer. Black is also known to be going out with Malfoy. Both are currently in hiding for safety, according to Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He also stated that: 'Ms. Malfoy is, I assure you, in good health and so is Mr. Black.' Further investigation is going on for the motive and identity of the said black-cloaked men.' Hey look at this," James said, pointing to the table of contents. "'Gossip Column: Speculations on the Malfoy-Black Disappearance see page 4.'" He turned to the said page. "Disappearance – what the hell is this person talking about. 'Hermione Malfoy, widow of Draco Malfoy is known to be dating Devon Black, a colleague in the journalism industry. Rumors have it that the said ambush at Malfoy's home last night is a fraud. Some say that it was only used so as Malfoy can have a break from work and deal with her private life. Earlier that afternoon, Black and Joan Malfoy, daughter of the Hermione Malfoy to Draco Malfoy, was sighted in Flourish and Blotts'. This aroused more tales that it was a bonding session for the two of them since Black and Hermione Malfoy were planning to get married. Another speculation for the 'hiding thing' is that Malfoy and Black have eloped -."

"Stop it right there, James," Joan irritably interrupted. "I don't need to hear about that trash. Mom's only been gone for less than a day from the Prophet and they're now publishing trash like that."

She has an idea where her parents were, but, Joan wrinkles her nose, she does not want to know what they could be possibly doing…

"But don't you think that they had eloped?" Andrei asked, slightly dumbly.

Joan threw her hands in exasperation. "I know my mother. A person does not have to believe rubbish like those in the newspapers!"

"Calm down, Jo," James said, placing his arms around Joan's shoulders. "I understand if you're worked up by this incident, but at least, don't blow up in the Great Hall."

True enough, about one-third of the hall's occupants were staring at Joan's direction.

---

Draco tasted something salty and slowly pulled back from their kiss. Hermione was crying.

"Hon, what's wrong? I'm home now."

Draco placed his thumbs on her cheeks and began to wipe away her tears.

Hermione smiled feebly. "I know. It's just -."

Draco cut her off and kissed her lips lightly. "It's just what?" He asked quietly in between kisses.

"Well, it has been six years and…" Hermione initiated the next kiss. "I realize that there is much time that we had missed – you had missed, actually."

Draco was about to kiss her again when Hermione placed her hand in between them.

"Wait," She murmured. "Let me finish first."

Her husband smiled to himself as Hermione once more showed that she is the authority figure between the two of them.

Hermione bit her lip uncertainly and wiped her own eyes as her tears began to cease.

"Look, you don't know how happy I am now that you're back," She enunciated meaningfully. "And without me realizing that you were there all along for the past months…" Hermione inhaled deeply. "So naturally, I think it would be a problem on how to explain this to everyone else. I mean, how I can tell Harry and Ron – oh, you know his temper…"

Draco felt anxiety creeping into Hermione and he led her to the couch. After they had sat down beside each other, Draco placed his arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, knowing the two of them, I believe that they won't get mad at you nor would they scoff at us. The three of you are friends for goodness knows how long. Besides," Draco tucked a lock of hair behind Hermione's ear. "I also know you; this apprehension is not about Harry and Ron, isn't it?"

His wife sighed. "Yes, you do know me. It's about Joan. She's the one who will be greatly affected by your return and – why are you smirking?" She stopped as Draco's mouth curled into its trademark position.

"Guess." Draco teased.

Hermione's eyes widened. "She did not – she doesn't – how did she – what the -." She stuttered as comprehension enlightened her.

Draco grinned widely. "Yes, Joan knows about me."

"How in the world – when?"

"I think," Draco stood up, carrying Hermione from the couch, which caused her to gasp. "That would be a long story." He headed towards the kitchen. "Breakfast would be cold by then, so let's talk about it over food, shall we?"

Hermione simply nodded and muttered something under her breath which sounded awfully like "too smart for her own good".

---

"IMBECILES: ALL OF YOU!"

All the other black cloaked people cowered under the wrath of their leader.

"If I want something done, I want it done PERFECT! Don't you understand the difference between perfect and FAILURE? DO YOU?"

One figure spoke up, "Master,"

"ENOUGH!" The leader roared. "GO OUT YOU LOT! DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU'VE GRASPED MY CONCEPT!"

Immediately, cracks of Apparation were heard. The black cloaked leader was left in the room.

His fingers rubbed his temples and sat down in his usual seat in front of the glowing orb.

"If I want something done right, I suppose I'll have to do it myself." He took a sip of potion that he had summoned to his side. "And once I do so, Malfoy heir: beware – here comes your worst nightmare." With that, he bared his teeth and let a bone-chilling hollow laugh.

---

After breakfast, Joan found herself in the Quidditch field with her fellow first year Gryffindors. And from the other side of the field came another group of first years, wearing robes emblazoned with the silver and green badge of Slytherin.

"Ferguson, I'm glad that you accepted our offer." James called out to the bulky Slytherin.

"No problem, Potter." Patrick Ferguson said shaking James' hand with his other holding a school broom. "I think it's very beneficial to both houses when we get to play Quidditch during our spare time."

"Yeah," James agreed. "Besides, it would be boring to waste talent in our batch while waiting for the year to end so as to be accepted in each of our house teams."

The Slytherin-Gryffindor rift had obviously been brought closer after the War since the Dark Wizards have been eradicated or locked in Azkaban. Family members who would care less of pureblooded stature and houses have helped form a better society. And, there is still the Malfoy-Granger marriage to thank for the inter-house relationships.

"Ok, guys, let's get into our positions." James mounted his broom and ascended into the sky.

Joan mounted her own borrowed school broom and watched as Richard Wood's fourth year brother, who is part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Joshua, release the Quidditch balls from their chest.

When the Quaffle was thrown into the air, everything became a quick blur of robes.

Since the teams that they formed were not the formal House teams, each of them could choose what type of player they wanted to play for each game. Today, Joan was the Seeker for the Gryffindors.

"Hey, Malfoy," Patrick flew beside her. "How's life?" Like Joan, Patrick is the Seeker of the game for his team.

"Monotonous: Andrei is still eating like a pig… James is still procrastinating…" Joan replied casually, she knew Patrick very well. They had been constantly paired in Potions when Snape was feeling morbid and wanted Gryffindor and Slytherin to work together,

Patrick, who, biologically, is Vincent Crabbe's son. Patrick's mother, who is a graduate of Durmstrang, had been betrothed to Crabbe since birth. Contrary to her upbringing, she did not want to be part of the Dark Side. After the war and the death of Crabbe, she met an American, married him and insisted that Patrick use the surname of the American and even be adopted by the American so as to be legally his father.

Joan heaved a sigh.

At least he had a father figure when he was younger and growing up…

---

"So, you mean, by some weird incident, Devon could be Draco?" Ron asked for the umpteenth time during the day.

"Yes, Ron." Harry answered monotonously, like he had a few minutes ago.

---

"When do you plan to show yourself to her?" Hermione asks Draco as she washes the dishes manually.

Draco takes another coffee cup and wipes it with a paper towel. "I don't really know," He places the cup on the rack. "But I doubt it would be awkward anyway."

"How long do you think we should stay here?" Hermione washes her own hands.

"We'll stay until I get a grasp of the situation." Draco quickly finishes drying the rest of the crockery. "There are still that black cloaked people and that assassination attempt I still couldn't clearly remember about."

Hermione wipes her hands dry and heaved a sigh. "I guess that means we'll be staying here for long, doesn't it?" She leaned on the counter, observing her husband, who was near the sink. "I hope it wasn't as long as the last time we were here... Sooner or later, it would be tedious and boring around here, you know."

Draco faced her and smirked. "In my opinion," He tossed the paper towel aside. "I don't mind if we stay here for a long time and," He smiled knowingly to his spouse. "I know a lot of ways to keep us busy."

Hermione blushed but still rolled her eyes and raised her eyebrow. She knew what he meant…

"Whatever," She muttered under her breath. "Egotistical prick…"

"I heard that."