A/N: Wow, it's been a lot longer than intended. And as happens in spring, I'm making new resolutions. To finish this story before it officially hits the 11-year mark since I started it. There will be two more chapters after this one, and then a one-shot that transitions into the sequel.

I'm working on a number of other writing projects at the moment, including my blog at . If you want to follow me, the best way to do so is on Instagram kellynoelzeva. Fan fiction may get a bit of a backseat, and it's also something I love working on when I need a creative break. Please let me know what you think of this chapter... we're almost there, everyone! Thank you for all the love, support, and readership over the past decade as I've learned, refined, and honed my craft through this piece. It's meant a lot.

27. There's So Much More to Me

Belle blinked her eyes and looked at Draco. "You love me?" she asked.

Draco resisted the urge to make a sardonic comment about her not listening. "Yes," he said simply.

She leaned back against the plush material in the private booth they had, her hands folded in her lap. "I—I don't know what to say," she said after a minute.

Say you'll marry me.

Draco bristled at the voice's advice. Now was not the time.

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Belle said, "I think I need to go. Zis has all been very nice, Draco, but I can't do zis anymore. I need to leave."

She picked up her back and her sweater, and started moving toward the edge of the booth.

"I get it. You're feeling overwhelmed," he stated. Belle paused, mid-movement.

"And?" she challenged.

"It's a lot for me to share with you all at once, and you need time to process it. I'll give you that time, and I also hope you'll stay so we can finish dinner together."

She looked at Draco, hard. And then she sighed. "I just don't know 'ow to 'andle things with you," she admitted as she set her things down and slid back into the booth. "You are challenging. And you can have a temper zat is like ice when you are upset."

"I can."

"And you are cruel and unfeeling."

Draco looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "That is a matter of perspective."

Belle was silent and sat back in the booth. "I'm still angry at you," she said. "I'm still angry zat you kissed me and zen said you couldn't be with me. Why did you do zat? Who on earth does zat?"

"I didn't think about the long-term implications or consequences. All I thought about was my desires in that moment. And in that moment, I wanted to kiss you."

Belle just looked at him, neither acknowledging his response, or negating it. After awhile she said, "And you are willing to do what it takes to make zis work? Even if it is challenging?"

He drummed his fingers on the table. "Yes, I am. Even if that means we're just exchanging owls and meeting every other week to start. Whatever space you want and need."

The commitment and magic of his words hung in the air between them, a gossamer thread. Draco held his breath.

"I will finish dinner with you," Belle said. "And you can walk me to ze Floo Network. If you'd like to send me a letter zis week, zat would be nice. Zat is all I will commit to."

Draco's face was impassive. "Wonderful," he said, then raised his glass. "To new beginnings."

And though she was, at first, unwilling, eventually Belle raised her own glass and clinked it against Draco's before downing the remainder of her champagne.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

The next few weeks were long ones for Draco. He waited four days before sending his letter and waited nearly a week before receiving a reply back. In it, Belle said nothing about connecting again over dinner, and yet, he had realized the importance of patience. Discipline. Consistency. For his greatest ambitions and desires, he would do almost anything, even if it was uncomfortable. Most Slytherins would. And Draco wanted Belle.

He sent another letter, asking her if she had tried the Felix Felicis. She had not. She had been too busy with work. He sent a third letter, sharing how he had delivered the Felix Felicis to his mother and asking Belle about her life, how she was getting on with Mr. Tinley. Belle didn't respond to his letter, and after two weeks, he sent a follow-up. Still no response a week later. Draco felt a pull of discouragement and shoved it aside, diving into his work. This situation was only temporary.

Just as he was immersing himself into his work later that week, Professor McGonagall showed up at the apothecary. Draco was in the back of the shop, brewing a potion, when she arrived.

"Malfoy," his employer said, "the Headmistress of Hogwarts is here to see you. Says it's about a job offer."

Draco barely glanced up from the potion he was brewing. "Tell her I'm not interested," he said. "I don't want to be a bloody teacher." He threw a sprig of juniper into the potion, and it flashed bright purple before settling into a soft periwinkle.

The apothecary shook his head. "She says she's not leaving until she speaks with you directly. Says she'll perch on the window as a cat all day long if she has to since we don't have a reception area."

Sighing, Draco finally looked up. "Very well. Tell her I'll be there in a minute."

His employer left, and after stirring the potion a few times, Draco wiped his hands on a towel, brushed off his robes, and headed toward the front.

Tall, severe, imposing like she always had been, she stood before him wearing emerald green robes, her thin lips pressed together.

"Mr. Malfoy, it's good to see you."

"Headmistress," he said coolly. "I'm not interested in the offer. Lots of teaching, lots of grading… that's not something that interests me."

Professor McGonagall gave him a half-smile. "I understand, Mr. Malfoy. I wanted to give you an update so you could make an informed decision. I spoke with Professor Slughorn, and he said he would be willing to stay on part-time this coming year as the Head of Slytherin and to teach either the N.E.W.T.s students or the youngest students.

"That doesn't change—"

"We would be willing to pay you the base salary you receive here, plus your room and board will be provided, plus the weekends will largely be your own, especially this coming year if you split the position with Professor Slughorn."

"Why are you—"

"We are desperate, Mr. Malfoy," the Gryffindor professor pressed. "The applicants we've had, all of them have been sub-par. You have an exemplary Potions record. We are confident you would make an outstanding professor."

"Professor—"

"I understand that you didn't envision yourself becoming a Hogwarts professor, Mr. Malfoy. That you wanted to work within the Ministry. I wouldn't be here unless it was absolutely necessary—"

"Professor, I'll do it."

She stopped speaking, surprised. "You'll do it?" she repeated.

"Yes, I'll do it. I'll split the position with Professor Slughorn. And if I like it well enough, I'll take it over fully the following year—with a pay raise, of course."

Professor McGonagall smiled. "Of course, Mr.—I mean Professor Malfoy," she said. "You know, Severus would be so proud, Draco."

Draco felt uncomfortable. Flattered, visible, acknowledged, and for once he didn't want to be. "Thank you," he said coolly. His face softened a bit. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

She nodded, then became stern again, peering at him through her glasses. "The school year starts on September 1, Draco, and we expect all faculty and staff members at the castle ready for the beginning of the year no later than August 15. That will give you and Horace roughly two weeks to refine your lesson plans and prepare for the first classes of the year."

"Yes, Prof—I mean, Minerva," Draco said. "I'll see you in a few months, in mid-August."

"I look forward to it, Draco," she said with a curt nod, she walked out of the shop and back into Diagon Alley.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

When Draco returned home that night, he looked at the vial of Felix Felicis that was still sitting on the corner shelf. Still three-quarters full. Folding his lips together, he grabbed the vial and took a small gulp. I want to resolve things with Belle, he thought.

Over the next few minutes, his body softened, and he relaxed. He set the vial back on the shelf. I should write a letter to Belle, he thought.

He grabbed some parchment and a quill and sat down to write.

The words flowed out of him as though he'd had a few glasses of Firewhisky. He told her all about his new professorship and how he would be living in Scotland come September. That he understood she might never want to be in contact moving forward and he would honor whatever she wanted, whatever she decided and the he would love her forever regardless. That he wanted to share his life with her—whatever that meant—and that if he didn't do that with her, he wouldn't do it with anyone because there was something ineffable about her, something distinct about her.

He wrote about how kind she was, how caring she was, how gentle she was, how intelligent she was, and how fiery and spirited and committed to standing up for herself. How impressed he was that she had been born nearly three centuries earlier when the world was radically different, when the role of women was vastly different.

Draco kept writing and writing and writing and writing, until, at last, Felix invited him to slow down the movements of his quill and finally stop. Yours truly, Draco, he signed it. He folded the pieces of parchment and placed them in an envelope. Placed a wax seal on the back, and gave it to his owl.

"It's for Belle," he instructed gently, and the owl flew off with a gentle cooing.

And then, just as suddenly as the impulses had arrived, they ended, and Draco was all alone in his apartment, spent.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

For the most part, Draco completely forgot about the letter. Things at work began to get busier, to speed up, and he was just doing his best to keep up with the pace that everyone was setting. He was brewing a batch of more difficult potions than usual, and every night he left work absolutely exhausted.

The end of May became June, and June soon became July. The letter entirely left Draco's mind and he began preparing for his transition to Hogwarts. He and Slughorn had been communicating every few weeks to discuss lesson plans and arrangements at the castle. Draco had agreed to teach First Years, Second Years, and Third Years, and co-teach the more advanced students with Slughorn, also serving as a back-up as Head of Slytherin House. As such, Slughorn had begun renting a flat in Hogsmeade above The Three Broomsticks.

In mid-July, Draco received an extremely unexpected guest at the apothecary. Even with McGonagall showing up a few months prior, Draco nearly transfigured himself into a ferret out of fright when his supervisor said who was there to see him.

"Malfoy, Harry Potter is here to see you."

A little bit of the potion he was working on splashed over the edge of the cauldron and onto his robes. Draco cursed under his breath.

"Harry Potter?" Draco said coldly. "Why on earth would he be here to see me?"

The apothecary shrugged. "Beats me, Malfoy. All I know is he wants to see you."

With a glare at the potion on the floor, Draco vanished it, conjured a towel to wipe his hands, and set a protective spell over the potion. He still hadn't learned the time-freeze spell, so he could only let it simmer so long.

"I've got five minutes," Draco said. "Where is he?"

There, in front of the counter was Harry Potter wearing clean, velvety emerald green robes. Despite his desire to make a snide remark about how Potter didn't deserve to wear the color of Slytherin, Draco held his tongue.

"I have five minutes, Potter. What do you want?"

Harry smiled wryly. "Believe me, Malfoy, I wouldn't be here unless it was important. I'm just as thrilled to see you as you are to see me. It's about Belle."

Draco's heart leapt. "What about her?" he asked casually.

"She received the last letter you sent," Harry said. "The one where you as good as poured your soul out. She had me look at it; she was so surprised by the display of emotion, and she was suspicious. I was certain it had been forged, but when I tested it at the Ministry, it said there was no penmanship enchantment on the parchment. It was so unlike you that I had to check."

"I sent that letter months ago," Draco said. "Why are you just coming to visit me now?"

"Belle didn't know how she wanted to respond," Harry said simply. "She was so in shock, and the letter was so unexpected that she didn't do anything for awhile. But it's been bothering her, I can tell. I think it would be really healing for both of you if you could just connect in-person and clear the air. For good. Then go your separate ways."

Draco's heart panged. "That's what she wants?"

Harry shrugged. "If you connect in person, at least she won't avoid this anymore. I can tell she's been stuffing it down. Throwing herself into books and her work. A lot of old Muggle romance novels—Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice—honestly, it's been so many I can't keep track."

Nodding, Draco brushed his hands off on his work robes. "If you'll excuse me, Potter, I need to tend to the potion I'm working on. Send me an owl with the details of where to meet you both and when."

Without anything further, he returned to the back of the shop where his cauldron sat waiting for him, undid the protection potion, and began stirring. A couple moments later, he heard the bell ding near the front door as Potter left the shop.

HP*BATB*HP*BATB*HP*BATB

Draco received the owl from Potter once he returned home that evening. After untying the small scroll from the owl, who hooted and flew off, Draco unrolled the parchment. He skimmed it, and then it into the pocket of his robes. "Batty," he called.

Crack!

"You is calling, Master?" the house elf squeaked.

"Bring me my tea. Please."

Batty nodded and disappeared with another loud 'crack!'

While he waited, Draco wandered into his study, withdrew the parchment, and read the letter again, this time slowly:

Three Broomsticks, tonight at 6 o'clock. We'll both be there. She doesn't know you're coming. We'll be there at least an hour. See you then. - HP

"Well, at least Potter values brevity, if not courtesy of advance notice," Draco muttered, placing the parchment on the table. Batty appeared the next moment, placing the tea next to Draco, bowing, and exited the room.

He sighed; his tea would have to wait.

Draco dressed quickly, putting on nice velvet black robes, dress shoes and giving his wand a quick polish. He stopped by the looking-glass, scowled at his hair, and reached the top of the stairs. Then he froze, turned toward the corner cabinet where his half-empty vial of Felix Felicis stood.

You don't need it, a voice told him. If you can't do this without Felix, how are you going to summon up the courage to be with Belle if… when… she does want to be with you?

Draco scowled. He reached for the vial, held it in his hand, felt its warmth. He uncorked it… and then he paused. Maybe the voice was right. He recorked the vial and pocketed it. Then, with a deep breath, he turned on his heel and Apparated to Hogsmeade. The magic pulled his being toward his center of gravity, and after a moment, he stood in front of The Three Broomsticks.

With a deep breath, he stepped inside the tavern.

Potter and Belle were both sitting at a table in the center of the room, crowded between other couples, families and even a few singles. Potter took a swig from his mug, and Belle followed suit. Stiffening his back, Draco stepped forward towards them, nodded and sat down. He raised his wand arm to signal the barkeep.

"Hello, Draco," Potter said casually.

"Hello… Harry." The name felt strange on his tongue. He shivered. "Potter," he said, correcting himself. Much better.

Belle's eyes widened, then narrowed. "What eez 'e doing 'ere?"

"I invited him," Potter said.

If it were possible, Belle's gaze sharpened further. Fortunately, Madame Rosmerta chose that moment to step over. "And what'll you have, m'dear?" she asked Draco.

"Fire—" he started, then paused. He forced a smile. "Habit. Butterbeer, please."

Madame Rosmerta nodded, then took off, leaving the three of them together.

"'Arry," Belle started, "I appreciate zat you care so much about me—"

"Belle, you haven't been the same since you received the letter. I don't know what it said or what the details are, but you've been pouring yourself into your work and into novels. You've been trying to escape."

"Potter, could you leave us alone for a minute?" Draco asked.

Harry hesitated, then looked to Belle. She sighed and nodded. Grabbing his mug, Harry stood up and walked toward the bar. Silence.

"I received your letter," she said. "I didn't know 'ow to respond."

"I figured," Draco said.

"I just don't understand you," she said. "One moment you're cold, unfeeling. Ze next… you are confessing your feelings to me in a letter."

"I wanted to put it all out there," he said simply. He pulled the vial out of his robes. "I'm not a Gryffindor. I needed a little liquid courage and luck."

Belle's eyes narrowed again. "Did you take it zis evening?" she asked

"No," he said truthfully. "I almost did, but I realized I didn't need it." He pushed the vial closer to her. "I suspect you haven't had the potion I gave you."

She shook her head. "No. It was too beautiful to use."

He gestured to the potion in front of them. "This is my vial. If you'd like, you can take some. For me, it helps me get out of my own head. Get connected to my body. And I haven't taken it. So, if you do, what will happen will be luckiest for you… not me."

"Isn't zat manipulative?"

"No," he said. "I didn't write that letter to win you back. I hadn't heard from you, and I wanted peace of mind for myself. That's why I wrote the letter. It's okay with me if you take the potion right now. It's best if you get clear on what you want from Felix so he can bring it to you."

She looked at him soberly. "I want to know 'ow to 'andle things with you."

Then, grasping the vial, she downed the rest of it. She set the empty vial in front of them. Then, they waited.