Happy Sunday. This has not been edited beyond me, but has been lovingly read by mcal.

Granger often wasn't home after that.

Perhaps she'd had enough of hiding—and she'd said as much herself before he'd gone and made her angry—or perhaps it was thanks to a surprising friendship that she'd struck up with Pansy, or more likely, maybe she was avoiding him.

It wasn't a difficult thing to do since he often left before she ever woke up, and the Ministry had kept them busy in the past few days. Still, he left a charm cast on the muggle coffee maker she was so fond of, and he knew it began to brew whenever she woke up. He hoped a token of his apology would matter to her, but he'd yet to see proof of that.

He'd meant to go to her appointment at St Mungos.

Managing to work up the nerve to show his face around her—especially in a situation that could only remind her of how her life was ripped out of her hands—had taken several days. He wouldn't have admitted that to her though, for fear that it would be him to dredge the subject up again.

On Thursday morning, he'd bumped into her in the waking hours, for the first time in a handful of days. Her hair was tucked into a loose plait, and it was clear she'd slept in it by the frizzy strands that attempted to escape. The moment she sensed his presence behind her was visible, and his stomach dropped when her fingers tightened around her mug.

While there hadn't been a full smile curving her lips, whatever mirth had been there vanished altogether, and he swallowed.

Moving past her, Draco reached into the cupboard for another cup. He didn't mean to bump into her, but Crooks had snuck under him, bushy tail swishing in all its glory and the feel of it under his foot caused him to stumble directly into her. "Sorry."

Granger shrugged, and sipped her coffee. She'd painted her nails a pale pink, and he noted there was a smudge at the end of one of her nails. Dressed in a worn pair of shorts and a thin top, she would have looked entirely at ease if it weren't for the dark circles forming under her eyes.

"Have you slept?"

She shook her head. "My appointment is this afternoon. I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, yes, I was rather nervous before mine as well." He offered. "It will be alright, Granger. I'm sure you'll be out of there quickly. Just a few tests."

Granger murmured something he couldn't catch under her breath. "I doubt that. Nothing will ever be simple. Did they say anything noteworthy in your appointment?"

"No, they gave me a clean bill of health." He wasn't sure why he added the next part, but surely they would ask her the same thing. "The healer asked me if I would like to use potions during our—"

She followed him as he trailed off, and even in the dim light of their kitchen, he could spot color rising to her skin. "Ah, I see."

They had never discussed the fact that they would need to sleep together; it just always been a given. The point of this was to procreate.

Too often—before he remembered the circumstances they were in, and how terrible it would be to romanticize them—Draco had wondered if her body would fit against his like it once had.

Or if it would be better now that they had grown up.

"What did you say?" She bit into her lower lip, and it was flushed. No doubt she had been chewing on it in her own fit of nerves.

"I said no." Draco schooled his features while turning away from her and filling his cup. "I don't want to—not while I'm inebriated, but if you needed—"

Granger shook her head quickly. "No, no, I don't want to lose what control I do have after they've already taken so much."

It struck him low in his gut, and Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. If there were any other way…"

The smile she gave him was weak, barely there really, but she smiled at him anyway, and shook her head. "It's not your fault, and I suppose if it has to be anyone, I can't complain that it's you."

Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that.

"I appreciate your concern as well, and your thoughtfulness as to whether I needed a potion, I mean."

Of course that'd been what she had meant.

Granger tucked a curl behind her ear. "Will you be at my appointment this afternoon?"

"Yes, I'll slip away and meet you there."

He'd meant to meet her there. Honestly, he'd had every intention of slipping away in the middle of the afternoon—and possibly sticking Potter with the paperwork he should have already finished—to Apparate to St Mungos and meet her in the lobby.

It just hadn't worked out that way.

As was his bitter luck, any time he made plans, his work day went tits up. Beginning with a brawl in Knockturn Alley in the middle of an apothecary, Draco wished he hadn't come in at all. While Potter interviewed witnesses, and the two wizards that had ripped into one another, Draco spoke with the shop owner to catalog damaged merchandise.

Then he'd stepped into the back room of the shop and spotted not one, or two, or even fucking three, but dozens of boxes that contained illegal potions. After arresting the owner, and shutting down the establishment, they had been able to return to their comfortable office, and he wished he'd gotten to stay there.

Weasley popped his head into the office ten minutes before Draco planned to leave, and his features were set in a grimace. "Oi, Robards got a report that there's been an influx of dark magic used in Wiltshire. Sounds serious, and he's asking for volunteers. Either of you want to go?"

"Are you going?" Harry pushed his glasses up his nose.

He shook his head. "Can't. I was already on my way out to meet Pansy for lunch. Besides, Robards only asked me to see if you could go. Said he'd send Boot and Goldstein if you didn't."

At the time, Draco hadn't realized the bad decision he'd been making, or how similar it was to what he'd done to Astoria. He hadn't noticed the annoyed look to cross over Potter's face either. "I'll go." Draco pushed away from his desk.

"Are you sure?" Potter's voice caused him to pause in the doorway, where he could see that Weasley had already gone. "I thought you were meeting 'Mione."

"She wouldn't want me to be there anyway," Draco's fingers curled around the doorway, and he shifted his weight. "Besides, it's a regular appointment, nothing she'd need me for."

He hadn't given Potter a chance to finish his sentence.

Granger sat on the sofa, a pillow held securely in her lap, and tears stained her cheeks. It was obvious that she'd been waiting for him, and his heart gave a hard thud, and he wasn't sure what to say at all.

"Why didn't you come?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I thought you wouldn't want me to come, and I thought since it was a regular appointment…" Only that couldn't have been true. Something was wrong, or she wouldn't have been openly sobbing on the sofa while hiccuping with every other breath. "I chose to go on an assignment right before I should have left."

Granger's fingers dug into the plush of the pillow she squeezed and he realized she'd already known that. "Harry told me."

His teeth ground together.

"I know that you would take assignments to get away from Astoria." A wheezing breath pushed past her lips, and he noticed that the pink polish that had previously coated her nails had been chipped away. It seemed she'd bitten her nails down to nubs, and he imagined that had happened while she waited.

While he'd finished paperwork in his office and while he'd helped a fellow auror when he should have come home.

"If that's what you were doing today, I think I deserve to know."

"I wasn't," Draco croaked. His fingers curled into fists where his hands rested in his pockets, and he drew a slow breath. "I avoided meeting you because I believed you didn't want me there."

She nodded.

"But it wasn't because I didn't want to be there."

Granger laced her fingers together. Then pulled them apart. Then joined them again. She fidgeted in her seat, and her lower lip wobbled. "I don't want to blame you since I've not been the best at communicating, but I needed someone to go with me today. Pansy offered, but I wanted—well, I wanted you."

His stomach dropped, and he thought the guilt might make him sick. "I didn't know."

Another nod.

"What happened?" Draco joined her, sitting perhaps too closely, and untangled her fingers before taking her hand in his. "Granger, come on."

"I've assumed this for a long time—healers have already hinted at it during annual physicals—but due to curse damage, it's a slim chance that I'll be able to have children." She squeezed his hand.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Is that all?" The words hadn't sounded so callous in his mind, but he caught up, and recovered as her eyes narrowed. "I just meant that you told me once how you didn't want to—"

She ripped her hand away. "If you can recall, I said I wasn't sure, but that I knew I wouldn't want to have children immediately after graduation." Granger exhaled harshly. "And in case it's gone right over your head, opinions change over the years, and yes, I would like to have a family. If I could bloody have one!"

"I'm sorry, I—"

Granger stood. "I'm going to clear my head."

"You're leaving? Shouldn't we talk about this?" He followed her, right on her heels as she moved toward her room. "I know that I fucked up, but—"

She pushed past him with her eyes still watering, and second after, he listened to the Floo activate.

Draco stayed in the corridor, his forehead pressed to the wall just to the right of her bedroom door, for several moments.

He didn't go after her.

Granger came back before he went to bed, and Draco wasn't sure if her voice calling out for him was a relief, or the reason his heart lurched in his chest. Probably a combination of both if he were honest. He could have pretended to be asleep—and whether or not she believed it, she'd have left him alone—but Draco exited his room. He met her in the sitting room, and saw that she held a batch of green powder in her hand.

Her eyes were red, and puffy.

"I thought you wouldn't come back for at least a day." Draco pushed his hands into his pockets, as far as they'd go, and rocked back on his heels. It sounded like the wrong thing to say, but clearly he had no idea what the right thing to say was.

Her nod was a short, jerked motion, and from where he stood, he could see the quiver of her lower lip. "I came back because I have something I need to tell you."

Draco remained silent.

"Pansy thought I should wait until tomorrow, but I know that if I do, I'll let this pass because I've grown comfortable—"

His eyes widened.

"And it wouldn't be fair to either of us." Granules of powder slipped through the cracks of her fingers until she sighed, and dumped it into the dish. "I think you should go back to Astoria."

He snorted loudly and ignored the way her brows shot into her hairline. "Merlin, are we back to this? I thought we were past this, Granger. I don't want to marry Astoria, and while this probably makes me a terrible person, I never wanted to marry her."

"You're better off going back to your posh, comfy lifestyle so you can have your ridiculous, little blonde heirs." She swayed on her feet, arms wrapped around her middle, and lifted her chin as if to dare him to correct her.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Draco shook his head. "I don't even want kids right now, Granger and if I did, it certainly wouldn't be with her." He'd imagined it, having children with Astoria, and while surely—surely—she would make someone happy, it wouldn't be him.

The declaration, as obvious as it must have been, didn't stop her though. "I'm going to the Ministry to see if what can be done to exempt me from the law since I'm infertile. Well," she muttered. "I'll know beyond a doubt by the end of the week."

"I don't bloody care if we never have children, or if we have litters." Draco stalked toward her, hands flexing at his sides. He towered over her, and she lifted her chin, a smirk pulling at the edge of her lips.

God, she really was so insufferable at times.

"I want you in any way I can."

He expected it to be more terrifying, more jarring to have the truth out there than it was. In fact, Draco had imagined that it would make him sick, but surely she'd already known it on some level. That all of this had always been for her—in some way, he had to admit that it was about him, and his own wants.

She blinked and her lips parted as she tilted her head up. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Hermione breathed in, and he saw the way her shoulders shook. "You're holding onto memories that are long gone, Draco. Let go."

"You daft cow." He growled.

"We're adults, Draco. I agree that repairing our friendship was the right thing to do, but you can't expect me to believe that you're—that you've held…" Hermione trailed off.

Perhaps it was the hard look about him, or his clenched jaw.

Maybe she could see how desperately he wanted to pull her into him and commit every curve to memory.

"I didn't deserve you, then," he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. "Ever since, I've been certain that sabotaging our relationship was the most foolish thing I've ever done, barring other significant events." But this wasn't about the vanishing cabinet, or his regrets of Easter. It was about her, just like always.

"Sabotaged?" Her voice was hoarse. She tapped her fingers against her arms, and looked away from him, but it didn't last. "I always thought it didn't make sense. I didn't think about it objectively in those weeks that followed, but we were happy." Each word was slow to come. "We were kids though, and I assumed that you wanted to end it, so you did it in the only way you knew how."

Cruelty was not unknown to him.

"It's time for you to be honest," she sighed. "Clearly, the guilt is eating you alive even when it's been so long."

It was the skeptical tone she took acted as the final push, and he willed himself to break open. "I wonder, if I hadn't been such a fool, where we would be now. From the moment you came here, I've wondered if this would have been our life together."

By the way she slumped slightly against the sofa, she'd wondered the same thing.

"I never thought I was deserving of you."

"I'm not an object to be had." He knew she'd say that. She'd said it before too. "This isn't a surprise to me, Draco. Time went on, and it was the only reason that made sense. I still believe it's ridiculous, and I'm still angry that you hurt me, but it's nothing I can't forgive. I don't understand why you've jumped into this opportunity, however. Is it because you wanted to play house with me, because you needed to see what life with me would have been like?"

He didn't so much as move when she closed the gap between them, peering up at him through thick lashes, or even as she jabbed her finger into his sternum. "Whether you'd like to admit it, I would have dragged you down. You would have taken it though, and you would have used up all the righteous energy you keep bottled up to defend me."

"It would have been my decision to make."

"It wasn't one I wanted you to make."

She swallowed. "Did you ever consider what I wanted? Even once?"

As much as he wanted to say he had done it with her in mind, Draco stomped the lie. He'd done it for himself. There could be no confusing the two. "I went through therapy after graduation. It's required by the Ministry when you enter the auror program before you can be approved for active duty." He was floundering in an attempt to make himself look like less of an arsehole, but she already knew the process. "When the Ministry announced this, all I could think about was you, and I wondered if now, if I were given another chance, I would be—"

Granger's lips part in the same moment that her eyes widen. "So, you believe that now, since you feel worthy of me," she spat "that you might as well give it a go as if I've been waiting for just that? You can't be serious."

Now that it's out there, Draco has to admit it does sound ridiculous. All he can do is splutter over I'm sorry and I know I fucked up and if you can—but he doesn't get through the last part, which was probably for the best since he had no idea what he possibly could have said to make this any better.

"This is…" she cast her eyes to the ceiling and a sigh bubbled up on her lips. "It's a lot to take in at once. If I say anything right now, it will be rash and I would like some time to think."

"Will you at least stay this time?"

Granger nodded, and slipped past him. "I shouldn't have reacted so quickly, and I got quite a shock when I popped into Harry's uninvited."

It sounded like a story, but it would have to wait.

"How are you going to fix it this time?" Weasley's drawn out sigh grated him, and Draco shot him an obscene gesture. "You mean to tell me that secretly still being in love with her, and making decisions without her input didn't go over well? Fucking shocker."

He was going to hex Weasley. Maybe he ought to stick him to a wall on the south side of the Ministry in the stairwell no one frequented due to the sixteenth century ghost that raved about better times. "You're enjoying this too much."

"A bit, yeah." Ron leaned against the edge of the desk. "I do wonder how you're going to fix it though. 'Mione feels awful for storming out on you even though I thought you deserved it."

"Thanks."

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Ron muttered, "I forget that you don't know her like I do. You probably couldn't have known the hole you were digging. A pit, really."

"Your encouragement and support is humbling."

He flashed a smile. "I try." Weasley picked up the photograph of Narcissa and swallowed. "You're still in love with her then."

There was a difference between thinking it, and hearing it.

There was even a difference between knowing it and hearing it.

Draco didn't reply, only sifted through the stack of parchment on his desk. He was positive at least half of it belonged to Potter. "Have you seen—"

"Come on, Malfoy." Ron cut in. "I don't care about a case right now and neither do you. Have you always known that you—"

With a sharp movement of his wrist, Draco's wand twisted through the air and the door slammed shut. "It may have escaped you, but I'd rather not talk about this when anyone could overhear."

"Oh, yes, it'll be such a scandal if the world finds out you're in love with your fiance." He rolled his eyes and kicked his leg up on the desk, knocking over another photo. "Well, I suppose you were just engaged. That might be a problem."

"You don't bloody say."

The silence that followed only lasted long enough for Draco to believe that it might continue. "I want to look out for her—for you too, mate—but I've gotta ask if it's true."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, yes it's true. Are you happy now?"

"Positively giddy."

"Fucking wanker," Draco muttered. "Don't you have a job to do rather than playing therapist?"

Tapping his fingers against his chin, Weasley's eyes brightened. "Therapist, that's a novel idea. You know, if you say that you love her outloud, maybe you'll feel better."

He sincerely doubted that. "If I were to say it out loud, it would be to her. Certainly not to you."

"What's wrong with me—are you getting a quill?"

Draco used the better part of his lunch break to comprise a list of what was wrong with Ron Weasley.

This story isn't heavy on the drama, so things will resolve relatively quickly if you're worried about that. If that's not your cup of tea, I'm sorry! Have a good week.