I officially have over 100 followers to this story! I honestly can't believe it! Here's a present ;)

As I vanish the tea tray to the kitchen, my mind is a jumble of memories and thoughts. I focus on Occlumency to push away the unwanted, but the vision of her and Weaslebee jumping apart as I entered the library doesn't seem to want to stay buried.

You, Draco. My future is with you.

I remember her words in my mind for every replay of them jumping apart, and I assume this how people become insane. Lacking Occlumency, no ability to push away the unwanted behind a wall, would surely do it.

I open the door to our suite, and Hermione walks on slowly. Hand brushing over our bed top, and I think of the last time she was in it almost two weeks ago, screaming my name.

She notices the French doors and throws them open with curiosity. The breeze commands her mane as she steps onto the balcony overlooking the back yard, and the setting sun reminds me that we haven't yet eaten.

She moves to the closet, just peering in, appearing surprised at the row of expensive dress robes, comfortable muggle clothes, and gowns for various charity events. She fingers the satin material of one sumptuous emerald green gown, her eyes searching the article as if she's hoping it will trigger a memory. I'm disappointed it doesn't.

She makes her way into our en suite, throwing open yet another set of french doors. Her hand glides over the edge of the porcelain clawfoot bathtub before doing a complete 360-degree scan of the suite. Her face is hard to read, and I'm hoping she likes our home.

"Uhm, would you like to go out to eat?" I say, shifting my weight uncomfortably. "It's becoming rather late."

Her head tilts to the side and scrunches like it does when she's confused.

"Don't you have a house-elf?"

I'm convinced she's joking and begins to laugh boisterously.

"Are you legitimately being serious?" I ask, through a snort.

She scowls and crosses her arms in front of herself. I take a breath, steadying my laughter. I can't help but smile,

"No, Hermione, we no longer have house-elves."

Her face turns into one of disbelief as I lean back against the sink vanity. I smile once more and explain that while Malfoy men are known as cold and aloof, our women are treasures to us.

"and baby, I'm a dragon."

As we walk hand in hand to the floo, headed out to our favorite restaurant, I notice her gripping my hand tighter and more confident than she has before.

I wake disoriented the next morning, not used to waking in the guestroom. The room feels sterile and foreign, compared to the warmth of our suite we typically shared.

Entering the guestroom's en suite, I quickly shower and prepare for work. I set to the kitchen to make some tea, hoping my fiancée wakes before I leave. I have a spot of breakfast as I fill my thermos with steaming coffee, then head to the library.

I falter at the hearth of the floo as yesterday's scene of her and Weasley flashes in my memory. A flash of jealousy and possession courses through me as I step back from the crackling, diminishing emerald flames. I've never NOT trusted her before, so why was there all of a sudden, a fear that I would come home to the same— or worse —scene?

I quickly pen a note to Astoria, suggesting a visit once Hermione wakes. Astoria would keep her occupied for me today.

I call our owl, Cepheus, over before I can feel guilty.

"Take this to Astoria,"

I feed him a treat and open the window for him, guilt hitting me only when Cepheus becomes a small speck on the horizon.

What is wrong with me? She said she chose me!

I've never doubted her before, but in the same instance, I've never felt so insecure before either. Strong. Confident. It's how Malfoy men are. The world is at our feet, yet it feels like the rug was pulled from under mine lately.

I head into work, scolding myself for stooping so low as to have actually arranged a chaperone for my fiancée. She'd be furious with me if she ever knew I had the gall to have her babysat, whether or not she had her memories. I step into the lift as I imagine the way her eyes would light as if on fire. I thought of the blush that would creep up her neck, and her fingers snapping as she scolded me. I groan- she'd undoubtedly kill me.

Apparently, my groan opens an invitation to be asked how Hermione is doing from the bloke next to me. No one else speaks, but I see almost everyone slightly turn as if to get in the best position to hear my reply. I repress a scowl,

"She's well," I say cooly, "She should be back to work once she has her follow-up appointment at St. Mungo's at the end of this week."

Skirting out of the lift, I make my way down the hall towards my office. It almost feels like a dream, to be headed to the office of the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and it is my office,

"Good morning, Jacob," I drawl as he hands me this morning's memos. "Anything pressing I need to do this morning?"

"No, sir, nothing terribly pressing, just the usual paperwork," Jacob says "The Italian Ambassador did request lunch with you later this week,"

"Excellent, I'll reply straight away," I waste no time to get straight to business. "Thank you, Jacob, that'll be all."

"Of course," Jacob turns to leave, but then suddenly turns back "Uh, sir? How is Hermione Granger doing?"

I should be flattered that so many people were concerned about my fiancee's well-being. Still, I found it annoying to keep saying the same news over and over. Nevertheless, I know Jacob is just being polite, so I force a cordial smile.

"She's well, thank you for asking."

After sending an owl to the Italian Ambassador confirming out lunch for later this week, I dive into the mountain of paperwork Jacob had left for me at the corner of my desk. I work well past lunch, determined to not think about yesterday, and how I betrayed my future wife this morning in retaliation.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap.

Bleary-eyed, I stretch out upon the bed and reach for my wand on the bedside table. Through heavy eyelids, I spot an owl at the window, tapping the window incessantly. With a flick of my wand, the owl swoops inside and drops the letter at my side. Obviously, this one is a regular as next it flies directly to the desk and pecks its beak at a jar of owl treats neatly displayed.

I roll over lazily and reach for the letter, relishing the feel of the smooth, silk sheets. I tear open the envelope, furrowing my brow at the handwriting I didn't recognize.

H-

Dear Draco told me about your memory. Nevertheless, I figured we could get reacquainted as we were – are- very close friends. I await your reply.

Xoxo

Astoria

I read over the letter several times, futilely trying to place Astoria in my mind. Dear Draco? For a brief moment, I consider declining. Instead, I take the plunge to figure out our connection and deduce it might also be nice to get out of the house.

Astoria,

That would be

Ink drips as I try to find the words.

Lovely. Frank's, in an hour?

-Hermione

I tie my reply to the owl's leg, ensuring a treat before it flew off, hooting happily. I then wander to the en suite to shower, still amazed that I live in such a lovely home. Malfoy money hopefully well spent, I reckon.

Astoria's owl returned with her acceptance by the time I make my way to my closet, choosing to don a cream cashmere jumper and dark boot-cut jeans. I use my wand to dry my unruly hair into submission and head to the floo.

Being sure to tuck my elbows in, I call out for Diagon Alley. I spin through the floo network, reappearing only moments later inside the hearth of The Leaky Cauldron. Brushing soot off my jumper, I leave the small pub to find Diagon Alley bustling with shoppers. A lazy breeze swirls my hair around me as I attempt to regain order. I stroll past shoppers peering into shop windows and a family huddled together, arguing which store to enter first. I also pass a man disappearing into an alley as I catch his eye, something that gave me goosebumps, but I chose to ignore it. Finally, I see a woman about my age, standing in front of my favorite bookstore. Her hair is a soft brown, her eyes blue, and I can tell she's pureblood by the way she carries herself. She has that same natural grace as Draco. I vaguely recognize her from a picture hanging in our hall.

"Oh, Hermione! You have no idea how pleased I am that you agreed." She hugs me one-handed lightly. "Of course, you'd choose to meet in your and Draco's favorite haunt. That memory of yours will be back again in no time that I'm sure."

"Astoria, nice to meet – see you." I shuffle my feet, looking around the street.

"I hope you don't mind, dear— poor Draco came to me about the whole ordeal. A downright mess, he is. I haven't seen him this out of wits in years. You know how protective he can be. Oh, yes, well, I guess you wouldn't anymore. I apologize."

We enter a store for lingerie, and I skid to a stop.

"This is... new."

I can feel my blush creeping up my neck as I spot some racier items that don't leave much to the imagination. I idly wonder if some of these pieces are apart of my wardrobe. Draco and I have been together for over six years, so it's childish to imagine that we haven't had sex. I realize that Astoria had been speaking and was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn't heard.

"I'm sorry?" I mumble.

She lets out a peal of laughter like bells ringing.

"Same old Hermione, so lost in thought. Have you started planning for the gala, dear?"

Confusion strikes as I sputter out, "Gala? What gala?"

Her eyes widen as if I've grown an extra head.

"Oh my. I can't believe dear Draco-"

I mouth 'dear Draco' again, but she doesn't notice. I'm not jealous, I'm not.

"-Didn't at least tell you. Of course, you're in no state to plan…"

I zone out as Astoria titters on, touching various pieces of merchandise.

"-From the Ashes."

I hum in acknowledgment. "And that would be?"

I'm just about to zone out again when she says,

"Your and Draco's non-profit, of course!"

My attention snaps to her immediately. "Non-profit?" I ask greedily. "we have a non-profit?"

"' From The Ashes' is your non-profit program for muggle-born children and families,"

She pauses, allowing me to absorb the information.

"It's named after the cycles of a Phoenix," she continues after a moment. "Draco figured something good had to come from two wars and many years of hate. Before, someone would come and explain a child is a witch or wizard, how to get to Diagon Alley, and help with currency if needed, and then that was that. Your non-profit assigns a member to each muggle-born family. They tour them around Diagon Alley, helping in any way possible to integrate muggle-borns into the magical community without fear or uncertainty."

Astoria turns her head back to me, giving me a polite smile.

"It was something he created for you, Hermione. 'No muggle-born should ever have to endure what you have ever again,' He'd said to you when he presented you with the idea. So far, you've helped countless families and passed several laws protecting muggle-borns from discrimination."

My breath halts, and I'm just gaping at what I've just learned about my fiancé.

"I can't believe that."

Tears swim in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Astoria doesn't seem to notice and continues on.

"Then there's also S.P.E.W. that he funded and help you push laws more... reasonable before the ancient houses and the Wizengamot. Not free, but humane conditions." She adds nonchalantly as she browses.

My mind races, and it feels like I'm not getting enough oxygen in here. I stumble out into the front of the shop. All that he's done, he did...for me? Astoria walks out moments later,

"Are you okay, darling?"

I suck in a deep breath of fresh air, then grab her arm.

"We have to go to the Ministry. Now."

A knock pulls me from my filing, and the object of my guilt stands before me with a brown paper bag in her delicate hands.

"Astoria came by today. Thankfully she owled first, her friendship is lost to me too. We're getting reacquainted, but I wanted to drop off some lunch. I hope you haven't eaten."

She kisses my cheek and places the bag on my desk.

"I'll see you at home." She pauses at my door. "She informed me about our program and that planning for next year's charity events for 'From the Ashes' will need to start soon."

I'm unsurprised to find tears in her eyes and walk around my desk to embrace her. I am, however, surprised when she launches into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her fingers twist in my hair as she kisses me. She wraps her legs around my hips, and if I knew this would be her response, I'd have told her about our program the moment she woke in that damned hospital.

I stumble back, and she's nibbling my lip. Her knees find the desk, and my head begins to spin as I grab her ass. She's sucking on my neck and Merlin— it's been almost two weeks since we've lasted fucked. My hands press into her hips as I pull her back to me. My tongue entwines with hers, and she's exploring my body with her hands. She pushes against my erection and surprises me by grinding against me before pulling back.

"We don't normally go so long... without sex," I mutter sheepishly.

Her face turns red at what I assume is the thought of us fucking, remembering that she doesn't have any memories of us. As far as she's concerned, she's done something naughty with a former enemy, not made out with her fiancé.

"Not to mention, this response was completely unexpected, again." I chuckle. I straighten myself and get up as she prepares to leave. "I'll see you at home. Brainstorm some ideas, and I'll give it some thought while I eat."