The certainty however, that Draco had felt the evening prior after his talk with Astoria, had faltered somewhere around the witching hour as he stared at his ceiling and pondered over everything that had happened within the past month or so. He knew what bleeding hearts Gryffindors were, but he also knew enough from rumor and that blasted right hook in third year to know, that his betrothed was not the kind of witch who bided her time when choosing to enact out her displeasure.

She was fairly straightforward in the regard…

Usually…

But he also knew, that Hermione had her moments of cunning and cleverness. That she could be rather vindictive when properly motivated. She also had one of the kindest hearts he'd ever known, even when he saw it as a weakness.

Now, selfishly—he in a very profound way, was benefitting from that very trait he'd scoffed at, once upon a time.

When the first rays of dawn filtered through his large French doors, Draco sighed and waved his wand, frowning at the time…

He'd been up for most of the night, brooding.

A mental state that persisted for the rest of the morning, until he found himself following the Alphonse's manservant through Hermione's home, as they walked towards her family library.

His brow furrowed at a curious thought, but was brought out from his musings when he walked through the large double doors and noticed Hermione sitting down at her usual spot with Potter sitting across the room, his nose plastered in some reading of his own.

The Chosen One glanced up and instantly stood at his arrival, while Hermione smiled at him warmly in welcome.

"Good afternoon, Draco—I wasn't sure I was going to see you today." She offered cheekily, and he felt his expression shifting into his normal preferred smirk, as he nodded in thanks at Jean Paul, who quietly left them alone.

"I did say I'd be here, but we never settled on a time so I hope that's alright."

"It's fine. Have you had lunch yet?"

"No," he admitted, sauntering over and picking up a dark black dragon skin journal with a lifted eyebrow, "is this one of Master Flamel's?"

"Yes, I picked it up on Monday, along with those journals to the right. Interesting reading—did you know that he and Pernelle kept detailed notes about all their trials? Nearly sixty years worth!"

"Sixty?" He responded back in shock, glancing over at Potter who was gazing at Hermione fondly, "That's unprecedented. Have you found anything useful?"

"A few things," she handed him a grayish journal and told him to turn to the page she had marked, "maybe you could read through those parts if denoted, as I'd like to get your feedback?"

"I could do that." He replied easily, taking the seat across from her and setting down his bag, warily watching Potter moving over to sit down in the open seat by the window. He turned to the other wizard and asked, "Did you get drafted into service too, Potter?"

"Heavens, no!" Harry chuckled with a brief shake of his head, "Hermione knows better than to ask me to help with research. I'm more of an action type of wizard, and while I did fine in school, I would've never done as well without this one here nagging me and proofreading through all my assignments."

Draco chuckled, drawling out, "Weasley too, I'd imagine."

"Yes." Hermione answered, sighing softly but her lips were lifted into a half-grin. "Ron hated school, which wasn't a shock to anyone who knew him, but he did excel in a few subjects."

"Such as?"

"Magical creatures, Charms and Defense. He was a menace in Potions and Transfiguration."

"Probably not as bad as Finnegan was," Draco bit back with a playful grin, "now there was a wizard who could make any cauldron explode regardless of the assignment. It was a wonder he made it to NEWT level potions."

Harry snickered, while Hermione giggled and nodded fondly because it was true—Seamus could always be counted on to explode something…

"How did your studying go?" Hermione queried with interest, and Draco's gaze shot up for a split second, before his Occlumency came down hard, but Harry noticed and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Fine, I got quite a bit done…well, except for last night."

"Oh?" Potter asked evenly, and Draco nodded before he replied, "I spoke with Astoria last night."

Hermione glanced at Harry and could see his brows furrowing in confusion and she reached for Draco's hand, inquiring gently, "I take it that didn't go well?"

Grey eyes met emerald green ones, and Draco realized that Hermione hadn't shared with Potter about Astoria's condition, which she'd told him she wouldn't, but he had to admit he was pleasantly surprised to know that she'd kept her word.

"It went about as well as it could, under the circumstances."

He could see Hermione stiffening slightly, while Potter just looked on confused. The truth was he'd spent a good portion of last night going over several scenarios for how to go about doing this, but the truth was all of the ideas he'd considered came with inherent risks—the most pressing one was pissing off his future bride, and from the calculating gleam in Potter's eyes—it was clear the other wizard suspected something was amiss.

"What am I missing?" Harry inquired evenly, looking from him to Hermione and back again.

Draco sighed, running his left hand through his hair in agitation, which was only compounded by the grimace on Hermione's face.

"It's complicated," he replied at last, "and not exactly my story to share."

"Oh?" Potter drawled out, "But Hermione knows, yes?"

"She does," he was quick to defend, "because in a way, it affected her."

"How?"

"Harry," Hermione finally spoke up, "don't take that tone! This isn't what you're thinking."

"And what am I thinking, Hermione?"

"You're assuming that Draco is keeping secrets from me, and he's not," at that, Draco's gaze averted quickly, but Hermione caught it from the corner of her eye and she huffed out a short, "are you?"

He didn't immediately reply, which caused Harry to lean over the table and glare at him, while Hermione folded her arms over her chest defensively.

"Look," he cleared his throat before forging on, "it's complicated, as I said. Astoria all but confirmed to me last night that what I'd shared with you, Hermione—was very likely," Hermione's expression fell slightly, but her gaze was still suspicious, "and she told me that I needed to be honest about a few things."

"Such as?"

This had come from Potter, and Draco could tell the git was wound tightly, just waiting to spring into action.

Fucking Gryffindors!

"Astoria's family suffers from a maledictus curse, Potter." He offered with little emotion, for as much as he wanted to rage at the unfairness of everything, something deep down inside of him knew that once he was finished explaining, it was likely that Potter was going to hex him. "I found out myself recently and then shared the news with Hermione. I also told Astoria about the Ardante bond, and she wasn't exactly surprised."

"Really?"

This came from Hermione and Draco nodded, before he continued on…

"Really. I spoke with Daphne, Astoria's older sister a little while ago about the curse, and Astoria overheard Daphne talking with their mother about it. That's why she floo'd me."

Harry gazed over at Hermione, and could see her brows furrowing—with confusion or contemplation, he couldn't say, but she seemed to be pondering something deeply—however, one thing didn't make sense to him, so he asked, "Why do I feel that there's more to this?"

Draco sighed, and then shook his head.

"Are you familiar with how maledictus curses work, Potter?"

"Fairly well," Harry replied, "and enough to know that there's no cure for them…" his voice trailed off, and then his expression darkened noticeably, "what did you do, Malfoy? Promise to find a cure for Astoria and use Hermione's research to do it?"

Draco sat there stoically, but the singular gasp from Hermione let him know that she'd come to the same conclusion.

"Draco…we discussed this!" She blurted out, her voice tinged with hurt, "So what am I missing?"

He reached into his bag and pulled out Snape's Potions journal, and handed it over to Hermione, stating, "Check the marked page."

She quickly opened the journal and read the items denoted, her eyes widening in wonder before they narrowed accusingly.

"When we're you going to tell me?" She hissed out angrily.

"I just figured it out a few days ago, and I didn't want to say anything until I knew for certain. Astoria told me I needed to come clean, and she was right. I'm so used to self-preservation, that it's not instinctive for me to trust."

"But you trust her?" Hermione bit out, with a mixture of hurt and venom and he sighed in defeat.

"I've known Astoria for most of my life, Hermione—so, yes! Of course I trust her!" Harry went to speak up, but Draco pointed at him in warning, "Get off your righteous Gryffindor pedestal, Potter! If this was Hermione, you'd do whatever it took to save her life, right?" He didn't wait for the answer, as he grabbed his things quickly, "You both want to think the worst of me, fine! But I protect those who are important to me! I don't expect either one of you to understand how difficult this is for me, because no matter what I do or say, you'll always think the worst of me."

He didn't bother waiting for a half-hearted inadequate response, as he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the room, leaving two very stunned people staring after him.

Once Draco was gone, Harry sat back and eyed Hermione, who was gazing down at the journal Draco had left, with a slight frown marring her pretty face.

"How spot on is he?" He asked.

She tapped her finger on the open page and shook her head in wonder, "Would you be surprised if I told you I think he's figured it out for me?"

Harry sucked in a shocked breath. "You're barking?"

"No, I'm not," she replied shakily, "I've always known deep down how intelligent Draco was and is, but never in my wildest dreams did I honestly consider that he might've been this brilliant."

She handed over the journal and watched as Harry read the excerpts, his own face paling before green eyes lifted with a knowing gleam.

"What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"How angry are you?"

She thought about it for a few moments, before she shrugged in defeat. "Would you be surprised if I admitted I'm not as shocked as I should be?"

Harry nodded. "At least he came clean, and he's not wrong, Hermione."

"About?"

"How we see him, at least the side of him that he's allowed us to see," Harry paused and then admitted, "I've always wondered if there was more to Malfoy that the hateful git he showed everyone back at Hogwarts, and seeing how much he obviously cares for Astoria, let's me know that there's a heart there, underneath all the barriers he puts up."

"I know," she agreed quickly, "and I suppose he's right in that we're quick to think the worst of him. It's hard, Harry. There's a part of me that wants to believe that we could have something wonderful together, the three of us, but there's another part of me that thinks if I allow my defenses to fall, that Draco's going to break my heart."

"Hermione…"

"What, it's true! He's so mercurial and difficult on a good day, but deep down I think he's just as much in need of a safe haven as you are."

Harry dropped his chin down and swallowed uncomfortably, which caused Hermione to pull him into a hug.

"It's okay, you know." She whispered into his ear.

"What is?"

"To be attracted to Draco," she responded sincerely, "to feel conflicted."

Harry's eyes lifted, and she could see the stark truth there.

"He doesn't make it easy."

"No, he doesn't. But he's not wrong either, not about this." She waved her hand between the two of them. "Our bond is so strong, Harry—it always will be. I think Draco probably feels the odd man out here, regardless of our betrothal. I suspect he feels uncertain, probably a bit scared too—but mostly I think it's the self-preservationist in him that's holding him back. He gave us a measure of trust, and our first instinctive reaction…"

"Was to immediately think the worst." Harry finished for her, and she nodded in reply.

He stood up and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, before stating firmly, "I'm going to go and have a talk with him."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. If Malfoy and myself can't find common ground, this is never going to work."

She nodded up at him, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Just don't let your temper get the better of you," she pleaded gently, "and don't let him rile you either."

"Can't promise that, but I will try my best to listen and not judge."

"That's a good start."

Harry offered one final smile before he left towards the floo room. Once there, he called out for Malfoy Manor and waited for one of the elves to answer his summons, which it did and then he noticed Narcissa Malfoy's face in the flames.

"Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"

"I would like to come over and speak with Draco."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

There was a soft sigh, before she replied with, "Very well."

He took a deep breath and allowed the flames to whoosh him to Malfoy Manor, praying to Merlin, Morgana and whomever else could hear him, that he wasn't making a huge mistake.