So I got such an amazing reviewer last week? Like I almost don't believe it? The reviewer included a statement that they had never cared or thought or preferred to put together Hermione and Draco as a couple and they love the idea after reading this story :'D SUCH a compliment and thank you SO much for leaving that review.

I do want to say that the end is officially in sight. One more chapter after this and an epilogue. It's sad to bring it to a close but I'm hoping this chapter will get some love, I've been waiting to write it for ages!

Let me know what you think?

Love,

Cherry


"Hello Malfoy."

"Hello Potter."

"Oh this is weird." Ginny interrupted the greetings. "Sorry, this is just so strange. You're both being so civil."

"Well, we're not animals, are we?" Draco looked to Harry for confirmation, and he nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Gin, some might say that we're actually the peak of civility."

"The height of culture."

"The ones to watch."

"This is weird." Hermione agreed with Ginny, looking between Harry and Draco. "I'm sorry, have you two secretly been meeting up and are about to announce you're actually best friends?"

"Yes, you see, when I offered Potter friendship on that first day at Hogwarts all those years ago, he actually agreed. We've kept our friendship a secret lest our parents disagree."

"Well, your parents." Harry pointed out morbidly.

"Not anymore." Draco responded with a surprising amount of levity in his voice. Hermione had noticed that he was looking more and more healthy as of late, and while she didn't condone the two joking about being orphans, she recognised that it was a healing mechanism for both men, and didn't intervene. Ginny did not have the same thought.

"Bloody hell, where is this going?" Ginny asked. "Hermione, please never introduce us to one of your friends again, I fear I may lose my husband to one of these barmy conversations."

As it was clear that there weren't going to be any arguments, Harry and Draco fell into a more normal conversation, one that was led mainly by Harry asking questions and Draco answering them as though he was in an interview. They were harmless for the most part, and when Hermione saw a flash of ginger fur in the underbrush, she excused herself from the table.

Chasing the rustling bush around the side of the house and into the brush, Hermione snagged Crookshanks out and held him tightly in her arms.

"Oh, Crookshanks," Hermione crooned and the half-kneazle beast purred against her chest. "Oh you've gotten so big! Life on the burrow has been treating you well?"

Crookshanks chattered and shoved his head under her chin. She leaned in and gave him kisses until he moaned in contempt.

"Ah it has, I see. I'm glad you like it here, Crookshanks, it's been so dull without you in London." She sat down and let Crookshanks spill across her lap. He rolled onto his back and when she went to rub his belly, he playfully clasped down on her hand, nibbling on her finger as she talked. She told Crookshanks of her adventures and how much had changed in the last six months, and she even told Crookshanks about the memories that had been hidden by the legilimens.

"I don't know what to tell him." She sighed, playing with the fur around Crookshanks ears. "I mean, it's quite obvious that there is something between us, but it only happened when we were drunk. That doesn't mean I should tell him while we're sober."

"Does it help if he already knows?"

Hermione jumped, causing Crookshanks to bound off of her lap and back into the bushes. She turned and stood to see Draco. He looked nervous, with his hands shoved as deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

"You know too?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Well, I thought I knew." Draco explained. "That night I offered you a job. I remembered that you had mentioned wanting to live in Dorset, and the memories unfolded from there. But to save my bruised ego, I didn't look any deeper than you running out on me."

"And what helped you remember...the rest?" Hermione pressed, wanting to know what Draco really thought.

"A certain Weasley got into my ear about snogging and friendship and told me that I was daft if I really thought you turned me down that easily."

"That sounds like Ginny." Hermione choked back a laugh. "She knew before I did that whatever we were wasn't as simple as I thought it was."

"And?" Draco asked nervously. He thought he knew her answer. He hoped that he did, and that her answer hadn't changed since that night on Cantlebar Road.

"And I don't know." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know what I should do, what I shouldn't do, but I do know that you are so much more than I ever imagined you could be, and I did enjoy snogging you." She admitted, hoping Ginny was right as she spoke next. "And if your schedule permits, I was thinking we could do it again?"

Draco was silent, and Hermione prayed that she hadn't offended him.

"Yeah, I think I can pencil you in, how does now work for you?"

Hermione laughed incredulously at the unexpected response but nodded, meeting Draco halfway. They just held onto each other for several seconds, reveling in the feeling of each other, in something that had been so close for so long, but just out of reach, and Draco reached up, cupping Hermione's cheek in his hand, and as he leaned in, practically desperate to taste her, they were interrupted by the calls of a familiar, accented voice.

"Hermione?" Fleur called, and Hermione closed her eyes and groaned.

"Just one minute." She begged Draco. "I will be right back."

He sighed and nodded, releasing her from his arms. He watched Hermione round the corner and return to the party and bit his lip to keep from cursing. He glanced over at Crookshanks, who had reappeared as Hermione left.

"You are one lucky cat." Draco muttered. Hermione was true to her word about returning quickly, but she didn't look like she was in the mood to kiss.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Augustin Savatier." She spoke, out of breath. "He's dead. He's been dead for a year. Whoever we met was an imposter."

"A year. My mother's outlook changed a year ago. I wonder if there's a connection."

"You said it was due to a man, right? We should go ask her about it."

"She's dead, Hermione - "

"No, we should go ask her portrait."

"Right, that's a good idea. Wait, how do you know about the portrait?"

"I might have stumbled upon it one visit, nothing important. Anyway, we can leave now if you like. Harry has left with Ron to look into this wizard from a legal standpoint, but I think we'll get answer faster if we leave now."

"We'd have to side-by-side since the Weasley's Floo isn't in the manor's registry, is that all right with you?" Draco asked, offering Hermione his hand.

"Yes, it's fine." Hermione winced. "I just don't like it, having had to use it all the time while on the run, but it'll be fine." She took his hand and nodded. "I'll see you soon, Crookshanks." She waved to the cat before disappearing with a pop.

They apparated into the Malfoy Manor drawing room and rushed upstairs to find Narcissa's portrait.

"My, my, back so soon? And both of you, what a treat." Narcissa commented.

"Oh this is just lovely." Lucius responded. "Not only does she appear whenever she wants, she traipses around the property like she owns it."

"We're not here for you." Draco retorted, turning to Narcissa. "That friend who told you who to get these portraits made, what was his name?"

"He takes me out of storage just to taunt me, doesn't he?" Lucius asked lazily.

"What does that mean?" Draco asked, looking between the two portraits. When neither answered, he repeated himself.

"He was just a friend." Narcissa spoke. "Only your father doesn't believe me. He thinks he wanted more."

"He asked you to run away with him." Lucius stated bluntly. "Apologies for assuming that meant anything other than him wanting to run away with my wife."

"But did I leave? No. Because I love you. It's always been you, Lucius."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at the bizarre profession of love she was witnessing between two dark magic paintings, and it seemed Draco was on a similar page.

"Can you please just give me the man's name and then you can go back to your martyrdom?"

"Dermot Petcher." Narcissa admitted, folding her arms. "The man's name was Dermot Petcher."

"Thank you!" Draco turned to Hermione. "Let's go."

The two turned and hurried to Draco's study to see if they had written anything about Dermot Petcher. They had, as a matter of fact, but wrote him off as nothing more than a dark magic contact for the family. But Dermot Petcher specialised in taking existing Ministry approved items and changing their use to be slightly less legal. Which is why he knew someone who could make the dark magic portraits, and why he could make an untraceable Floo.

"This is him." Hermione pointed to the paper. "The man imitating Augustin Savatier, it's Dermot Petcher. Mimmy?" She called out and the 'stylish' house-elf appeared, wearing a plastic tiara and black turtleneck today.

"Miss Hermione has called for Mimmy?" She asked with a flutter of her ears.

"Go find Harry Potter and tell him to look into a man named Dermot Petcher."

"Yes, Miss Hermione!" Mimmy nodded vigorously before disappearing once more.

Hermione looked at Draco more seriously than she had ever looked at him before. "This is the man who likely killed your parents. Now whatever you decide, I will stand by you. What do you want to do with this information?"

Draco paused to consider what Hermione was saying. She was giving him full authority to decide if he wanted to hand this over to the Aurors, or if he wanted to continue investigating himself.

"Let's go question him." Draco suggested and Hermione nodded.

"All right then."

The pair apparated to the alley opposite Utopian Woodworking, peering across the cobblestone road to see if the shop was open. It didn't look to be; the curtains were closed, and there was a sign on the door that neither Hermione nor Draco could read from the distance they were at.

"It's almost six, are they really closed?" Hermione asked, and Draco shrugged.

"They weren't when we were here last time. Maybe they reopen for evening hours?"

"Or they know we're here." Hermione suggested, and Draco looked at her like she was crazy. "Voldemort put a tracker on his name, what if this man is doing the same?"

"Let's hope not." Draco noted. "We'll never catch him if he knows to take off whenever someone says his name." Draco silently gestured for Hermione to follow him, so they crossed the street to read the sign on the door.

"Closed for the day?" Hermione read. "Something is definitely not right, they aren't closed on Saturdays." Hermione gestured to the hours of operation painted on the window. The two shared a look and Draco used a spell to unlock the door. They stepped inside and closed the door behind them, noting that all the lights were off, only the small windows high in the room providing any light, though it was weaning as the sun began its descent.

The shop looked undisturbed, the two noticed. The sales floor was still filled with ornately carved items, so the Petcher and Turnbull must not have closed up shop and run away.

As Draco and Hermione slowly traversed the shop floor, they held their wands out, ready for anything that might happen. It was smart to be prepared, it turned out, as the first moment a beam of light hit Draco's hair, a spell whizzed through the air and collided with a grandfather clock. Hermione shoved Draco forward and she moved back, both crouching behind tall, solid furniture.

"Looks like my legilimency has gotten worse with time!" Dermot called from the back of the room. He was likely hidden in the office he'd been in the night they met.

"Or it was just shite to begin with!" Draco responded, hoping Dermot would show himself. He didn't, but he did chuckle.

"You know, you are definitely your father's son." Dermot responded. "But arrogance will only get you so far. And it won't be nearly as far as you think."

Hermione gestured for Draco to keep Dermot talking as she cast a silencing spell on her shoes. She assessed the room while Draco kept Dermot busy.

"There's a level of irony here that the man who failed to kill me is calling me arrogant."

"I wasn't trying to kill you, boy." Dermot replied. "Well, I would have been all right if you had died, but the goal for that night was just Lucius."

Draco knit his brow together. "Then why kill my mother? Why attack me?"

"Narcissa wouldn't let me kill him without a fight. She fought and pleaded, and in the end, it didn't matter what I offered her, she still chose him."

"It must really burn that the woman you loved would rather die than be with you." Draco retorted, hating that he was unable to help Hermione as she moved around the room, avoiding areas of light. It should have been him risking his life. Not Hermione.

"Yes, well, that didn't stop her from begging." Dermot was insulted but also knew how to hit Draco where it hurt. "'Please, Dermot, not my boy. I'll give you anything if you spare my boy.'"

Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked at Draco, knowing that with his temper, any probing would cause a reaction.

"When I told her that I'd kill you too, she offered me everything she had. Her money, her jewels, her body - "

Hermione ducked as Draco fired off a curse at Dermot, Dermot returning fire before both realized they weren't going to hit the other. They stopped, so Hermione continued tracking around the room to get closer to Dermot.

"Why take his arm?" Draco continued, slightly out of breath.

"Deception." Dermot replied. "If I attack the Death Eaters in their home, and make it clear that was my target by taking a trophy, why would I be a suspect? If I used an antiquated curse on you, why would they expect someone my age?"

"Because only an idiot would think the Aurors would assume it was a hate crime if there was only one crime of its kind. Sloppy work, Petcher, you should have found some other Death Eaters to kill, maybe then you would have never been a suspect."

The two fought again and Hermione ducked under a coffee table, waiting out their blasts.

"I don't see backup." Dermot continued. "If you're so confident I've been caught, then where are your Aurors?"

"They're sorting out the paperwork for your admittance to Azkaban, just give them a moment to catch up." Draco watched Hermione take up behind the sales desk in the back corner of the room. Now Dermot was relatively covered between the two of them, Hermione had a view of the back door and Draco had a view of the front, so it was time to draw Dermot out of his den. Hermione motioned for Draco to keep talking. If Dermot didn't know Hermione was there, she wanted to use that to their advantage.

"But we don't need to wait for them." Draco swallowed his nerves and stuck his foot out from behind his hiding place. "Let's settle this like men." When Draco stepped out, Dermot did as well, but he was still hidden from Hermione, so she waited, watching the two men throw curses back and forth, wood blasting into bits as they missed their targets. Finally, Dermot stepped forward and out of the room, so Hermione took the chance to cast her own spell, aiming for Dermot's wand hand. It worked, and Hermione watched his wand arc into the air, only for him to catch it with the other. He looked over to Hermione with an angry smirk and immediately hit her with an explosion curse, sending her sailing into the wall behind her. Hermione blacked out when her head hit the brick of the wall and she crumpled to the floor.

Draco saw red, casting every harmful curse he could think of as he maneuvered across the room toward Hermione, abandoning his wand when Dermot hit him with a particularly forceful disarming charm. Draco raced to Hermione's side, thankful they were hidden behind the desk as he tried to assess if she was still breathing.

"I knew I should have killed you that day." Dermot called out, very aware that he had the advantage. "But I'm glad I didn't. Now I get to kill you and your mudblood." Dermot's face appeared above the counter, and Draco looked for anything to defend them with, spotting Hermione's wand tucked under her thigh. Before Dermot could gloat any further, Draco snatched Hermione's wand and pointed it at Dermot.

"Sectumsempra."

Dermot's smug expression faded into one of horror as he looked down at his chest, lines of blood appearing through his clothes. He reached for them, and in the process, dropped his wand, though it would do him no good to have held onto it anyway, as the blood loss was reaching critical levels. Dermot dropped to his knees, then his hands, and he rolled onto his back, desperately trying to keep the wounds from getting worse.

"There's no point in that." Draco stood and spoke. Dermot cast him a desperate glance. "You won't recover from this curse, and I personally know how much it hurts. One can hope that it hurts more than what you did to my parents, but we'll never really know, because you'll be dead before you could even begin to describe what you did to them."

Dermot was choking on his own blood as Draco stopped to stand over his body, and it was within moments that Dermot stopped breathing.

Draco waited, refusing to leave until he knew Dermot was dead, and when he heard Hermione groan, he went to check on her.

"Please tell me he's dead." Hermione moaned as she ran her hand over the bump on the back of her head, wincing. "I don't think I could possibly get up and fight him again.

"He's dead." Draco confirmed, his voice low. He was glad Dermot was dead, but reality was beginning to sink in. He'd killed someone. He was going back to Azkaban.

"Thank god." Hermoine sighed, sitting up. Draco helped her stand, handed her back her wand, and she looked over at Dermot. "You didn't..." she drew lines over her chest that mirrored Draco's scars. "Did you?"

Draco nodded. "It was the first thing I could think of. Doesn't hurt that it brought him suffering in his final moments."

"Oh Draco." Hermione hugged him, knowing how terribly he must have felt. He accepted the hug limply and when they heard the doors open, both tensed.

"Hermione?" Harry called from the front door. She let out a sigh of relief.

"We're here, Harry. Petcher's dead." She called and separated from Draco, wandlessly turning on the lights. She grimaced when she did, Dermot's pale, lifeless body only meters away.

Harry, Ron, and several other Aurors filled the room and began assessing the damage and Dermot's body, though Harry approached Hermione and Draco.

"What happened?" He asked, hugging Hermione and assessing the drying blood on the back of her head.

"I killed Petcher." Hermione lied smoothly. Draco looked over at her sharply.

"Hermione -"

"We came to get answers, he started a fight, and he had us cornered, so I killed him." She blinked steadily, as though lying was second nature.

Harry looked between Hermione and Draco. "And your wands will tell the same story?"

Hermione nodded and handed hers to Harry. "I used the sectumsempra curse." Harry shot her a look. "You're not allowed to look at me like that, Harry, I wouldn't have known that curse if not for you." He rolled his eyes but confirmed Hermione's wand had been used in casting the curse that killed Dermot Petcher.

"And it was self defence?" Harry asked again. Hermione nodded.

"We only wanted answers. Well, answers and maybe a one-way ticket to Azkaban. That is why you came here, yes?"

"Yes." Harry confirmed, looking to Draco. "Your house-elf was more than willing to lead us here herself if she had to. Unfortunately we had to confirm that we had the legal right to arrest Mr. Petcher, but by the looks of it, you did our jobs for us. Any chance he gave you the answer to all his dastardly deeds before you offed him?"

"He did." Hermione confirmed.

"Perfect!" Harry said. "Nice and clean, then. Draco, come with me, we'll need to get your statements separately." Harry gave Hermione a tight smile and as they left, he called out to Ron, then gestured to Hermione. It had to be intentional that Harry sent Ron to take Hermione's statement, either because he'd kill Draco before they finished, or because Hermione and Ron still had some unfinished conversations to be had.

"So you killed Petcher, then?" Ron asked, gathering a self-writing quill and parchment from his pocket.

"Yes." Hermione confirmed, resting against the counter behind her. "Once Petcher identified himself as a threat, Draco and I split up to cover the doors. As they fought, I waited until I had a good shot. When I tried disarming him, he tried to kill me, so I hit him with intent to kill."

"And the reason he was trying to kill you two." Ron led Hermione's questioning, and she repeated everything from memory. About Dermot's obsession with Narcissa, his failed attempt to win her over, that he tried to cover up the murders to look like a hate crime, all of it. And through it all, Ron was impassive and asked all the questions an Auror should.

"All right then, that should be it. Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?" He asked and Hermione shook her head.

"It's not too bad. Nothing like the headaches you'll be facing once there's a newborn in the house." Hermione tried to play nice, knowing that only several hours ago, she and Lavender had been arguing.

Ron eyed her warily and Hermione softened her expression.

"I'm happy for you, Ron, I mean it. I know you wanted to start your own family, and I wasn't right for that. But it looks like Lavender is. I do hope she warms up to Draco, otherwise holidays might get a little interesting, but she has every right not to. We all lost people in the war, and while I've forgiven Draco for the part he played, I don't expect everyone else to." Hermione watched Ron closely, knowing him well enough to know that he likely wasn't ready to have a thoughtful conversation, but that he was willing to listen.

"You'll let me know when the baby's born, yes? I was thinking about taking up knitting once things settle down, maybe I could make something for your baby."

"Please don't." Ron said and Hermione worried for a moment that she had offended him. "You are not domestic, Mione, I don't want to have to turn down your gift because it's poorly constructed."

"Ronald!" Hermione gasped playfully. "How dare you be so ungrateful, I'll have you know that I was runner-up in a crafting competition in primary school!"

"And what did you make?" Ron asked, the corners of his mouth lifting.

"A...square." Hermione finished sadly. "But out of all the squares, it was the second-best square of the group."

"And I'm sure it was a lovely square." Ron responded. "But not the kind of square that would look nice in a nursery. Or fully cover a baby."

"No, probably not." Hermione grumbled. "Fine, then. Let me know when the baby's born and I'll buy something. Does that make you happy?"

"Delighted." Ron agreed. "I think I've collected everything I need, you'll get home safely?"

"Yes, thank you. Have a good night, Ron." The two hugged very briefly before Hermione made her way over to Harry and Draco, who were also finishing up.

"That should be it." Harry explained. "We may need you to come in once just to sign some paperwork now that your parents' case is closed, but we'll owl you."

"Right. Thank you, Potter." Draco nodded once.

"Can I borrow you, Hermione?" Harry asked, leading her to a quiet area within the shop with no Aurors around.

"Need me to answer more questions?"

"Yes, just one." He ruffled his hair. "Why are you taking the fall for Malfoy?"


"Well he'll appreciate that more than my gift." Hermione leaned her head back against the wall, waiting as Draco scoured her legs and arms for any other wounds. "I got him an original print almanac for Quidditch. He'll say it requires too much reading."

"Which is something I'm sure Potter's still working on mastering." Draco quipped. "A book is a perfectly fine gift, if you know how to read."