Sorry this has taken so long to get out. Life has been insane, and without going into specifics, just know the story is not abandoned, but updates will be really sporadic over the next few months. Happy New Year and I hope wherever you are, you're doing well and staying safe and healthy!

If someone had told Draco a year ago, shite—even five weeks ago, that he'd be getting ready to go with Potter and Hermione to visit his Aunt Andromeda, (whom he'd never met formally), he'd have sneered, scoffed and likely said several unkind words to the contrary. So it wasn't too far a stretch to admit, he was understandably nervous about this entire endeavor. He hadn't even shared the particulars with his parents, lest his father berate his choices once again, and his mother feel obligated to defer to Lucius bigoted diatribes.

He knew at some point he'd have to share the truth with his Mum, even knowing she'd been in recent contact with her sister (solely for his benefit), didn't make this situation any easier, however.

Over these last few days, and in particular after the kiss he'd shared with Potter, all Draco could think about was how in the world after everything—all the bad blood and hateful taunts—was he going to be able to open himself up enough to try and have a relationship with the two people he'd grown up resenting like no other.

It also wasn't an easy thing to admit even now, he felt like an intruder—the odd man out. Potter and Hermione had this easy affection, so akin to a deep understanding between the two of them, it was so clear to see. He though, was the consummate Slytherin, and showing his emotions demonstratively wasn't part of his innate inner character.

It never had been.

Which was why he'd been such a natural at Occlumency.

Straightening his day robes, Draco looked over his reflection critically for a few moments before sighing in resignation. As much as he might pretend otherwise, the crux of his own truth was he desperately wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be loved and accepted for whom he truly was. Not because he was rich, a Pureblood Malfoy or any other such rubbish; he just wanted someone to see him, the real him, and love him in spite of his many flaws.

He'd firmly believed Astoria was that person for him. She'd never chastised his choices, never made him feel lesser than, she just listened to his rantings with quiet resolve, only offering her opinion when he'd asked for it. Astoria wasn't timid, nor was she a pushover—she was cunning and clever in her own way—and those were her best qualities, in his not-so-humble opinion.

The fact that Astoria was Pureblood and beautiful, well—it only added to her allure.

The Hermione Granger at Hogwarts had always been too much. Too much hair, too much eagerness, too much personality—just too much. She was a swot: brilliant, brash, brave but also unfailingly kind.

At least to those who'd deserved it.

She was also clever, vindictive and cunning.

Rumors were thick on the ground back in school of the escapades the Golden Trio had gotten up to—but as the word implied, most of what he'd heard was just waved off as untruths at best, or blatant fabrications at worst, designed to make Potter and his entourage appear more courageous and brave than they really were.

Now however, it was crystal clear that much of the gossip back in school was probably just a smidgeon of what'd really transpired. The stark reality was, Potter and Hermione would've likely done quite well in Slytherin House, had it not been for their unswerving and selfless bravery.

He'd never been courageous a day in his life—at least not on purpose.

Grabbing his wand, he reluctantly made his way down to the floo room, waiting for Hermione to show. He was a few minutes early and was fidgeting with his cufflinks when the floo finally sounded. When his gaze lifted, it was to the surprised look on Hermione's face, as she took in his attire for their afternoon jaunt.

Then he noticed her outfit, which was far more casual than what he'd been expecting.

Not that she didn't look lovely. Her summer robes were light and airy, which a touch of the flirtatious. The skirt was knee length and flared, while the bodice was form-fitted and embellished with a demure sweet-heart neckline. When Draco's gaze landed on Hermione's tiny feet, he smirked at the pink toe polish and demure wedged sandals.

"You look very pretty." He offered sincerely, which caused a slight blush to form on Hermione's cheeks.

"You look quite dapper yourself, Draco."

"Am I overdressed?"

Hermione shrugged, "I'm sure Andi will appreciate the gesture. Teddy's too young to know the difference."

He nodded stiltedly. "How old is he, I don't think you've ever said?"

"He was born in April, on the third."

Draco did the quick math in his head, and felt his brow furrowing at the unwelcome truth. His baby cousin had only been gifted less than a month with his parents. He'd never know them, never have them in his life.

The thought only served to remind Draco once again, of his place on the wrong side of history.

Hermione could see the brief flash of something dark pass on Draco's face, but she chose to ignore the question bubbling up inside her. Despite the choice to try and see a better side of her betrothed, there was a part of her that wondered if she would ever be privy to the intimate side of Draco Malfoy. He was mercurial at best on a good day, downright standoffish on a bad one—but at least he was trying to make an effort.

Whatever his true reasons were, Hermione was fairly certain she'd never know the whole of it.

"Come on, we don't want to be late."

He nodded, offering his arm, which she took easily enough. She was slowly becoming used to Draco's mannerisms, as well as his ingrained sense of propriety. He reminded her a lot of her own Father in that regard.

They floo'd together, and when they emerged, Hermione could see Draco eyeing their surroundings with veiled curiosity. She waved her wand and cleaned them pristine, and then smiled when she heard Harry's laughter coming from somewhere nearby.

A few seconds later, Harry sauntered into the parlour, holding Teddy in his arms. The young baby boy's hair a mirror image of his godfather.

So much so, Hermione giggled when Draco gaped at the two of them.

"Hello, little love." Hermione chirped, holding her hands out for Teddy, and grinning when Harry handed him over. Teddy gazed up at Hermione with his big blue eyes, and then gurgled happily as he viciously grabbed a lock of Hermione's hair.

Draco smirked, while Harry just chuckled at his best friend's flinch.

"His grip is getting stronger." Hermione admitted, disentangling Teddy's fingers from her hair.

"It is." Harry agreed readily, then nodded to Draco. "Malfoy, welcome."

"Potter."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but walked past Harry knowing he'd lead Draco to where Andromeda was sure to be.

The smells of fresh baked bread that were wafting through the home were the first clue, but the sounds of Andromeda singing were the most telling.

She was in a better mood today, it would seem.

Walking into the kitchen, Andi turned and greeted warmly, "Hermione! How are you, dear?"

"I'm well." She replied, before kissing Teddy on the top of his head. She then turned a bit and gestured towards her guest, "Andi, this is Draco."

Andromeda Tonks, nee Black, looked like a saner version of Bellatrix Lestrange. Same curly hair, just a bit tamer and shorter. Same stormy slate Black eyes, same aristocratic features.

"Welcome to my home, Draco."

He bowed formally, "Thank you for having me here, Mrs. Tonks."

Andromeda grinned, while Harry just coughed out a guffaw and Hermione sighed.

"You can call me Andi, Draco. I think it might be a bit difficult after all this time to refer to me as Aunt, yes?"

Draco glanced towards Hermione, who seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, but he could sincerely appreciate the olive branch for what it was.

"Andi is acceptable."

"Good." His Aunt offered kindly. "I hope you're hungry. I'm just finishing up lunch."

"Smells delicious, Andi." Hermione piped in.

"I made your favorite, dear."

The young witch smiled happily. "Can I help with anything?"

"No, you three can head out to the gardens. I'm sure Draco might be interested in seeing my greenhouses?"

Andromeda posed it as a question, and Draco nodded politely, figuring it'd be rude to refuse.

Draco followed silently, watching Potter and Hermione interact with Teddy. The ease in which they fawned over the infant caused a foreign sensation to flutter within Draco's chest. It was sudden that he came to the stark realization that the only person he'd ever seen himself, no—that he'd ever wanted to have that kind of familiarity with, was Tori. There were times during the dark days of sixth year, when his mind would wander to less morose thoughts, and he'd indulge in what if's. What if Voldemort had never returned. What if his father had never gone to Azkaban. What if he'd been able to have a normal life, whatever that meant. What if he'd actually gone to Durmstrang like his grandfather and father had wanted. What if he made it through the war alive, and by some sheer dumb luck, wasn't imprisoned in Azkaban like his father—would he have a family of his own someday? What would that look like? Would Tori be that person for him? What if she grew to hate him, fear him like everyone else did?

So many endless questions had filled his nights, as he'd stared out the parapet of the Astronomy Tower.

Seventh year was more of the same, but Tori had been his one bright spot during the horror that was his last year of school. She was in France, of course, but he often thought of her sweet demeanor.

It had been a relief that she'd been taken to France. Draco hated to think what the Dark Lord would've done to Tori had the snake known of his affection for the young witch.

Even though that dream was dead, it didn't change the fact that he felt like a stranger in a strange land.

He caught Potter's gaze, and the green-eyed wizard frowned slightly with an emotion that appeared more annoyance than worry.

"Malfoy, you alright?"

"Fine, Potter."

The words came out slightly sharper than he'd intended, but Draco couldn't be bothered trying to explain his random thoughts.

Those were for him, and him alone.

So he decided to pay more attention to the scenery, pleasantly surprised by how charming his Aunt's home appeared. It wasn't grandiose like the Manor, but it was comfortable and homey.

Welcoming…

He'd often wondered as a small boy, why his Aunt Andromeda would throw her family legacy as a Black away, by marrying a Muggleborn wizard. He even heard his Mother once stating something to that effect before his second year, but now he understood it a little better.

To be free of the crushing expectation of being a Malfoy and a Black was a notion he'd only appreciated recently.

Now that his name was tarnished.

It was a humbling, if slightly uncomfortable thought.

Walking into the largest of the three greenhouses, Draco's eyes widened at what he was seeing.

"Is that Wolfsbane?"

Hermione beamed at him, while Potter nodded. "It is."

"I don't understand, how in Merlin's name is that even possible?"

Draco walked towards the large bluish-purple flowering plants in the far corner of the greenhouse, completely stunned.

"These only grow in mountainous regions, in Asia primarily." He reached out and gently prodded a singular bloom, his mouth quirking up in awe.

"Ted Tonks, actually." Hermione's soft voice carried to him, and Draco glanced back, noticing her cuddling Teddy to her bosom. "Herbology was his best subject as school."

"Even more so than Longbottom?" Draco inquired, causing Harry to chuckle.

"Pretty close. These just bloomed a month ago."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, knowing how hard it was to cultivate Aconite, and how the flowering plant would only bloom under the perfect conditions.

He also concluded why these were here, and who they'd been meant for, and his stomach dropped a bit.

He'd been one of the most vocal about their third year Defense Professor's affliction once the truth had come out. In particular, to his father.

Blimey, would his past misdeeds ever not serve to continue his own condemnation and damnation?

But perhaps there was a way he could do something positive?

"What is Andromeda going to do with these blooms?"

"Why?" Potter asked, his voice almost accusing.

Draco glanced up, his stormy eyes darkening as he replied evenly, "No sense in having them go to waste, so it might be a good idea to use them as intended."

Both Hermione and Harry were shocked silent, but a feminine voice broke them out of their stunned reverie.

"I didn't know you knew how to brew Wolfsbane, Draco?"

He turned sharply to see his Aunt standing in the doorway, her eyes so much like his own, considering him carefully.

"Severus left me his potions journals, and there is a recipe for Wolfsbane included. Should I assume he was brewing it for Professor Lupin?"

Hermione flinched at the moniker, while Harry's mouth flattened, but all Andromeda did was nod once.

"If you'd be agreeable, Andi—I would be more than willing to harvest these and brew the potion accordingly. You can either sell it to St. Mungo's, or donate it."

Andromeda's eyes widened, while Draco watched Hermione's features soften.

Potter however, just appeared sumpremely skeptical.

"And what do you get out of it, Malfoy?"

Hermione shushed Potter, but Draco just rolled his eyes.

"I suppose it's likely too much for you to believe the offer is a genuine one, Potter. My past misdeeds aside, I'm quite a competent brewer, best in our year if memory serves."

"Second best." Potter gritted out.

"Harry!" Hermione admonished lowly, not wanting to upset Teddy, "Draco was only second to my marks sixth year, and we all remember what happened there. Don't be a git."

Draco smirked at Harry, who just sighed in defeat.

"Fine, I'll refrain from thinking the worst, Malfoy."

"Joy." Draco deadpanned, which earned a scathing, "boys" from Hermione. Andromeda however, seemed more amused than anything.

"If you're truly interested, Draco—I'm sure we can come up with something." His Aunt offered kindly.

The blond wizard bowed his head in gratitude, deciding right then and there that he'd truly try and make an effort where his Aunt was concerned. It was clear that she was willing to help him, even going so far as corresponding with his mother for his benefit. It was the least he could do, under the present circumstances.

"Lunch is ready," Andromeda offered, "I made cottage pie, fresh bread and salad."

"Sounds perfect, Andi." Hermione interjected quickly with a quick look in Harry's direction. Draco however, didn't say anything, he just followed his Aunt out of the greenhouse, leaving Potter and Hermione alone.

When the door closed, Hermione rounded on her best friend. "Was that really necessary?"

Harry at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed. "Sorry, Hermione. I don't know why I can't seem to refrain from my gut-check reaction towards Malfoy."

She sighed softly, lifting Teddy a little more snuggly into her embrace when he started to squirm.

"I know how conflicted you feel, Harry. Truth be told, I feel the same but for all our sakes, you need to try and let the past go. Draco's never going to open up to us if we're constantly throwing his past misdeeds in his face, and frankly, I can't allow myself to keep expecting him to be the same hateful Malfoy from school. I know there's a man with a heart somewhere underneath his hard exterior, because he wouldn't care as much as he did and does for Astoria, if there wasn't something redeemable inside of him."

Harry rubbed both hands down his face in defeat. He knew Hermione was right, and he'd made the effort to go to Malfoy Manor to speak with Draco, even going so far as to snog the wizard. But it was hard to turn off seven years of antagonism, regardless of being attracted to someone.

"I'll do better, Hermione."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Harry."

Harry watched Hermione leave with Teddy, and felt his stomach fall with the weight of regret. How in the world was he ever going to be able to put his contentious past with Malfoy aside? Was such a thing even possible?

He'd rather loathed Malfoy upon their introduction first year. The blonde had been smarmy, egotistical, and condescending but the cruelty hadn't started in earnest until second year. The Malfoy that had come back that year, had been vile. Those tendencies only exacerbated as the years went on, culminating fifth year with the Inquisitorial Squad and Umbridge.

Sixth year was another matter, altogether.

But for all their schoolyard rivalry and heated exchanges, the overriding feelings of anger and resentment had been more due to how Malfoy had treated Hermione than anything the git had ever done towards himself. He'd always been more concerned about Hermione's feelings, but had felt restrained from action due to Ron's stunted emotional denial of the red-head's feelings towards their mutual best friend.

Being Harry Potter wasn't all it was cracked up to be. There were days, weeks, months and years he'd desperately wished to be literally, anyone else. To have the freedom to walk down Diagon Alley, or through the hallways of Hogwarts and not have people stare, gape or gawk at him. To wonder what it would be like to have his parents alive, his godfather too, and be just Harry for a fucking minute!

But that wasn't his reality, and never would be.

He'd never wanted to be the one prophesied to defeat Voldemort. He never wanted to feel responsible for all the deaths of those who'd chosen to side with him. But that wasn't his reality either, hence why he'd willingly made the decision to sacrifice himself out in the Forbidden Forest.

And look how that one had turned out?

He couldn't even die normally!

No, normality was for others. He was destined to more of the same complicated shite that had plagued his life since a madman decided to fulfill a self-fulfilling prophecy and come after him as a baby.

How he was still alive, Harry would never know.

Walking towards Andromeda's house, he sighed when he saw Malfoy and Hermione through the large window, and she was nodding at something Malfoy was saying.

Taking in the two of them for a moment, Harry had to admit they looked good together. Despite everything, they were well-suited intellectually. At least they had a foundation to perhaps build upon, what did he and Malfoy have except perhaps Quidditch?

Scoffing quietly, Harry decided right then and there that he would try to make more of a concerted effort. After all, what did he have to lose?