Thank you for the wonderful feedback from the last chapter. It always means so much to hear from you all.

SigalShleifer - Absolutely he has.

HeartOfAspen - All four chapters at once. Wow! You're about to find out what goes down.

Horses8 - Thank you so much. And yes. Spicy, indeed.

Sara - That's a huge compliment. Oh my goodness. I hope I continue to live up to expectations!

Hermione woke to the feeling of something tickling her face. Blinking her eyes as the morning sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, she felt the source of the tickling sensation: fingers. Long, masculine fingers. She probably should have felt embarrassed or hyper-aware, but at that moment she felt sleepy. Stifling a yawn, she removed Draco Malfoy's hand from her face and turned on her side to face the blond boy who had gained such a big place in her life in just a matter of weeks.

Draco's platinum hair, which had once been styled so carefully as a child, now flopped in front of his eyes in slumber. His handsome face, so often full of anguish and spite these past couple years, was nothing but peaceful in this moment. Hermione noticed with relief that the dark circles that had haunted his eyes during the past few weeks had faded.

He was beautiful. There was no other word for it.

Hermione shook his shoulder gently, whispering his name. He groaned and turned away, curling into a ball. Unfortunately, this meant that Hermione was now facing, not Draco's back, but rather, his backside.

Feeling momentarily evil, or, as Draco would put it, naughty, she reached out and pinched it. Draco gave a light yelp and whipped around to face her.

"What the hell, Granger?" The blond boy scowled and swatted her hand away.

"Just looking for the fastest way to wake you up is all." Hermione gave her sweetest smile and sauntered toward the bathroom. She was about to close the door when Draco shoved past her and shut himself in the bathroom, instead. "Oi! What gives?"

"If you're going to lay claim to my arse, then I will lay claim to the loo," Draco called through the door. Hermione felt her face heat up.

"I did not…lay claim to your arse."

"I can hear your blush through the door," Draco called. Hermione spluttered and she heard a sharp laugh.

She cleared her throat and tried to save herself. "I'm sorry for touching your…bum. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"First of all, you didn't touch me. You pinched me. There's a big difference." Draco stuck his head out the door and Hermione jumped back. "A pinch is nothing short of flirtatious. Were you flirting with me, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione felt the heat in her face extend to her stomach. "No!" she spat defensively, looking anywhere but at Draco. This was the last thing she needed right now. Today was going to be stressful enough with the inevitable confrontation with the Weasleys, and Draco pushing her buttons was just the cherry on top.

"Whatever you say!" Draco closed the bathroom door again. Taking deep breaths to attempt to calm herself, Hermione laid out her outfit for the day and traded places with her companion when he was finished. After reapplying their glamour, the two ate eggs, toast, and coffee downstairs in the inn's dining room and handed in the key. Whatever bit of playfulness Draco had been feeling right after he woke up had clearly evaporated as the morning wore on. His expression grew darker as the clock ticked later.

"Relax, Draco. I'm sure you'll be fine. The Weasleys will be perfectly understanding," Hermione tried to reassure him as he slid his backpack onto his shoulders in the foyer of the inn. The blonde boy made brief eye contact before turning his focus back to his feet. He mumbled something. Hermione strained her ears. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said – " he sighed, "– nevermind. Let's go."

Draco made for the door, but she grabbed his shoulder. He swiveled to face her. Hermione frowned at her friend. She didn't like this sudden coldness. It didn't suit him.

"Nevermind nothing. I promise you that I will not abandon you. I have a task to carry out, and I fully intend to see it through."

"Oh, great. Good to know you see me as another line of your checklist." Malfoy growled and took another step toward the door.

"That's not true and you know it. You're not being fair." Hermione tightened her grip on him. "You know I consider you to be my friend. You know I see you as you are, right?" Draco's shoulders loosened and he turned his head back.

"Are you sure, Granger? You sure you know what you're doing, bringing me with you?"

"When have you ever known me to do something without thinking it through?" Hermione looked up to meet Draco's eyes. "I care about you and your welfare, Draco Malfoy. And that means doing everything in my power to convince the Weasleys that you're fairly all right."

Draco smirked. "Fairly all right? Thanks."

"Well I can't rightly say that you're a saint, now can I?" It was Hermione's turn to smirk. Draco returned with a small smile. "But honestly, I won't abandon you. I know it's hard for you to believe, but you can have faith in that."

Draco opened his mouth a couple times as if trying to respond. He nodded weakly instead. Hermione had never seen him so nervous before. Through the six years she had known the boy, Draco Malfoy had never seemed anything but confident to the point of arrogance. He used to walk around Hogwarts as though he owned it – or should own it, in any case. To see him now, withdrawn and anxious at the thought of meeting, of all families, the Weasleys, was jarring. Watching his shifting eyes, Hermione decided this wallowing had to come to an end. She grabbed his hand and opened the front door to the inn.

"Come on. We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us."

Hermione laced her fingers through Draco's, and she was pleased when he didn't pull away. They weaved through the streets of Ottery St. Catchpole and eventually turned onto a dirt road leading into the countryside. The Burrow was just over the big hill in the distance, and Hermione squirmed with delight at the thought of seeing some of her favorite people. Draco's hand squeezed firmer the closer they got. Nerves were flying off him in waves.

The Burrow came into view and she heard Draco make an odd noise next to her.

"That's it, is it?" he managed with a cough.

"Uh-huh. It's one of my favorite places. Very cozy."

"Is it…safe? It's leaning a bit." Draco tilted his head.

Hermione laughed. "Of course it's safe. It's nothing fancy or big, but it's warm. Like my parent's house."

Draco raised an eyebrow, his mouth opening, probably to say something mean.

"Don't bother trying to insult the Weasley's house, Draco. It's not going to do you any good by voicing any…negative thoughts you have on the place."

His mouth promptly closed. Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve and disillusioned Malfoy before removing her glamour. The two approached the garden, and she felt Draco jump beside her as a chicken wandered across their path. Hermione stifled a giggle.

"Now you wait here. Just stay by the door and I'll be out to get you when we're ready. Think you can do that?" Hermione spoke these words where she was quite sure Draco was standing.

"Sure," she heard, about two inches to the left of where she was expecting. She released Draco's hand, walked up to the front door, and knocked. On the other side, she heard a sharp gasp and a voice call out.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Hermione Granger."

"Hermione, dear? Oh my." Mrs. Weasley! There was a bustling, and the voice came closer. "Before I open the door, I've got to ask you a question. Standard procedure, you know, dear."

"Of course."

"Let's see. Oh…what did I send you for Easter during your fourth year?"

Hermione frowned. "You, erm, sent me a very small egg. Much smaller than everyone else's."

The door swung open. "Come in, dear. That's a good girl." Mrs. Weasley shepherded her inside quickly and shut the door once more. The locks clicked into place.

All at once, she was surrounded by a pair of strong arms. She had been expecting Mrs. Weasley, but no…whoever it was wasn't nearly as soft as her. Looking up, she was delighted to see one of her best friends.

"Ron!" Hermione buried her face in his chest.

"What are you doing here so early, 'Mione? I thought you weren't going to be coming for another week at least."

"Oh, well…let's just say it was time."

Ron held her at arm's length and gave her a once-over. She blushed at being appraised like this. "I'm glad you're here." Ron gave her a lopsided grin that she returned.

"Would you like some breakfast, dear?" Mrs. Weasley called from a few feet away. Hermione turned to see the Weasley matriarch cooking breakfast as her husband sat at the kitchen table reading a very long piece of parchment.

"Oh, no thank you. I…we already ate."

"We?" Ron looked at her, confused.

"Yes, that's right. You said you would be bringing someone with you. Who is it?" Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove, her lips pursed.

"Well…I was hoping to speak to just you and Mr. Weasley to explain before…this person comes in." Hermione bit her lip and tried to avoid Ron's eyes.

"Why can't you speak to me?" Ron's eyebrows furrowed, his voice rising in defense.

"It's not that I don't want to," Hermione spoke quickly, knowing she didn't want to start rowing with Ron before he even had a chance to have a real reason to be upset. "It's just that I need the atmosphere to remain calm while I talk. You're not exactly a calming influence, Ron."

"But Hermione –"

"You heard what Hermione said, Ron. Just go upstairs and keep your brothers and sister up there while we talk. We'll call you down when it's appropriate," Mr. Weasley cut in with a tone of finality in his voice.

Ron shot Hermione a look of hurt and headed up toward the bedrooms. Mrs. Weasley motioned for Hermione to take a seat at the kitchen table, and she followed shortly.

"So where is this guest of yours?" Mr. Weasley rolled up the parchment he had been reading.

"He's out in the garden. Disillusioned for now."

"I see. And you ask us to trust you?"

"Yes. I'm under orders from Professor McGonagall. And in a way," Hermione hesitated, "in a way, Professor Dumbledore."

The Weasleys' eyes grew wide and they glanced at each other. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. Hermione knew very well her opinion on bestowing tasks on non-Order members. "You've been assigned to bring this person, then?"

"Yes. I've spent the last two weeks with him at my house, and we've gotten along quite well." Hermione's thoughts traveled to the invisible blond boy in the garden and her heart warmed. "I was surprised at first, but after a while, I found him to be much more agreeable than I would have thought possible. I…I think you'll find the same if you give him a chance."

"And who might we be talking about, Hermione dear?"

She took a deep breath and looked right at her friend's parents. "Draco Malfoy."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes went wide as saucers and Mr. Weasley leaned forward to rub his temples.

"D…Draco Malfoy? Lucius's son? The one who tried to m-murder Albus? The one who terrorized you all these years? That Draco Malfoy is in our garden? And he's agreeable?" Mrs. Weasley stared at Hermione as if she had gone insane.

"Yes." Hermione looked directly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, her face set. "He's been through quite an ordeal this year. He was assigned to perform a terrible task by You-Know-Who, but only when his family's lives were threatened. It almost broke him. I've spoken to him about it and seen his confession under the influence of Veritaserum in a pensieve. He's very conflicted and upset about everything that's going on." Hermione felt the words spill from her, afraid that if she stopped only for a moment, the Weasleys would forbid Draco from their home as he had feared.

"I know it seems farfetched," she continued, "but I beg you to believe me. I have his wand in my bag – he has no access to it. Professor Dumbledore offered him protection before he died." Hermione gulped, feeling a hard lump grow in her throat. Why was she suddenly so emotional? She looked down.

She felt Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's eyes on her. There was a long pause before either of them spoke.

"And you're sure it's really Draco Malfoy out in our garden?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Positive. He's under a glamour at the moment, but I can remove that once he comes inside."

"Very well. Bring him in."

Hermione pushed her chair out and stood, her footsteps heavy as she walked to the kitchen door.

"Draco?" she called into the seemingly empty garden. The sound of rustling clothes came from nearby and Hermione felt his presence beside her. She opened the door a bit wider and the invisible figure moved past her. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she turned and removed the disillusionment charm and the glamour.

There, standing in the middle of the Burrow's kitchen and seeming entirely out of place was Draco Malfoy. He looked so nervous that he could pass out.

"Please sit, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco wasn't sure what to do with himself as he stood in this…could you really call it a kitchen? He forced his tongue to remain unmoved. Now was not the time for insults. He wasn't stupid. He couldn't risk offending the Weasley parents and getting kicked out. And for some reason, he didn't want to upset Hermione.

Mr. Weasley motioned for him to take a seat at the table and he quickly took his place next to Hermione and across from the Weasleys.

"So," the patriarch began, "Hermione tells us you've been offered protection by Professor McGonagall and by Albus Dumbledore, himself. Is this true?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. It is true."

"Is it true that you spent the better part of the past year working under You-Know-Who's orders?"

Draco swallowed. "Yes."

"Hermione tells us that you were only acting on his orders because he threatened your family. Is this true?"

He gave an affirmative answer for the third time.

"Are you in contact with your family now? Anyone connected to You-Know-Who?"

He shook his head. "No. I…I'm not sure what's happening to my parents. They could be dead for all I know." Draco tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke of the very topic he was trying to actively avoid. "I've spent the last couple weeks at Hermione's house with her parents. Hermione can tell you that I haven't touched a wand since…since June."

Draco's eyes darted between both the Weasley parents. Mr. Weasley was looking at him intensely, as though trying to read his mind. Mrs. Weasley appeared to be attempting to bore a hole in her mug with her eyes.

"I know you must find it difficult to trust me," he began, "but I want nothing more than to get through this war alive – with my family alive. This past year was Hell on Earth, but I did it to stop the Dark Lord from touching my family." He leaned forward, placing is elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. "Before…that night in June…I would have told you that I would repeat my actions this past year without question. I would have said that even thinking about not fulfilling my orders would be weakness." His voice shook and he took a breath. This was not the time and place for tears. This was not the right audience for these emotions.

Draco felt a hand on his knee. Hermione. Gathering himself, he continued. "I would have considered it weakness not to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes. To not obey my father's wishes."

"What changed?" A different voice spoke up this time. Mrs. Weasley now gazed at him with a strange look he wasn't sure he recognized.

"I'm not a murderer. I refuse to be a murderer. I refuse to play those games anymore."

Draco knew he should say more – should defend himself with his honest thoughts. He had shared those thoughts with Hermione late at night, but he didn't want to get into those messy feelings sitting here in the kitchen of The Burrow. He wasn't sure if he could handle more than one person knowing his deepest convictions.

Draco expected more questions from the Weasleys, but instead, they sat in silence, studying him. Mrs. Weasley in particular was looking at him with that same strange look. Then, without warning, she stood and marched around the kitchen table. Draco leaned back into his chair as she approached, trying to sink back into the wood. Instead, he almost immediately found himself pulled upward and into the arms of the Weasley matriarch.

She was very soft and warm, and her rounded arms cradled his body against hers. He had been expecting a slap or a shove. Not a hug!

Draco thought of his own mother, whose affection was not often physical. Her hugs had always been brief and stiff, even if she meant well. Were these the kind of hugs the Weasley brats grew up with? He found them nice, even if they were a little…smothering.

He coughed twice as his lungs began to feel pressured. Mrs. Weasley loosened her grip, holding him at arm's length. He was slightly horrified to see tears in her eyes.

"My poor boy. I can't imagine what you've been through. Of course you're not a murderer. You're just a child."

If he weren't receiving so much sympathy from the woman, he would have told her off for calling him a child. He had, in fact, come of age recently. However, circumstances being what they were, this was certainly a good reaction. Silence seemed the far better decision.

Hermione cleared her throat and Mrs. Weasley pulled her eyes away. "We've already reached out to Professor McGonagall yesterday and are waiting to hear from her, but we were hoping you would let Draco stay with you here at the Burrow for the time being. It's well-warded and there are Order members coming through all the time." She spoke the words so quickly that Draco could hardly catch what she was saying. "I know it's a lot to ask, but is that something you would be all right with?"

Draco could feel the panic in her voice getting stronger with each word she spoke. Without thinking too much, he reached out and grasped Hermione's hand in his own. He heard her voice hitch as his skin made contact with hers. Mrs. Weasley glanced between the two of them and their joined hands. Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she turned back to her husband.

"What do you think, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley had also seen the brief exchange between he and Hermione, it seemed. His face had softened.

"It seems there's nothing to it. Mr. Malfoy will remain with us for the time being. I trust you'll keep an eye on him, Hermione?"

Hermione's face had split into a smile, and Draco felt his own facial muscles turn upward.

"If that would make you more comfortable, of course I'll keep him nearby. But you should know that I do trust Draco. He hasn't done anything for me to consider otherwise recently."

Draco's smile faltered a bit. Her words were less than ideal. Sure, Hermione trusted him. But that trust was nothing if not recent. He had years of insults, misdeeds, and lies to overcome if others were ever going to trust him completely. Opening up to Hermione and spending some fun afternoons together was fine, but she would have to be a goddamn saint to fully accept him.

Even one slip up and that minimal trust would be nothing but an unfortunate memory for her. Draco felt his stomach sour just a bit.

"Very well," Mr. Weasley declared. "I will also contact Minerva McGonagall to confirm our arrangements. Mr. Malfoy, please wait in the sitting room while I fetch everyone else. We don't want any, erm, incidents before we can fully explain."

"Yes. Of course. I'll just wait, then. Er, where is the sitting room?" Draco wasn't sure what might constitute as a sitting room in this jumbled house.

"I'll take you there," Hermione interjected. "Come on, then." She motioned for him to follow. They walked down the hall to the left and Draco found himself in a small room lined with overstuffed, well-worn chairs and a sofa. Photographs lined the walls, and the room somehow felt incredibly cramped, though it as currently devoid of occupants.

"I can't believe Weaselbee actually lives here," Draco scoffed as he sank into a brown armchair.

"Be nice, Draco. Insults are no way to get the Weasleys to even pretend to like you."

"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes and looked around the room – anywhere but Hermione's face.

"Hey."

Hermione had leaned forward to grasp his shoulder, and their faces were only inches apart.

"What?" Draco smirked.

"It's going to be fine. I'll see to it that Ron and the others don't murder you."

"Gee, that's comforting."

"I'll come get you in a few minutes, all right?"

Draco nodded and watched Hermione walk back toward the kitchen. A few moments later the thunderous sounds of many feet clambering down the stairs reached his ears. The entire Weasley horde appeared to be here in this very house.

Voices began to drift in through the door. Rather than focus on what he knew would be loud, angry voices discussing him, he allowed himself to zone out and take in his surroundings more. This house could not have been more of an opposite of his own home. Malfoy Manor would never contain such old, decrepit pieces of furniture, nor would there be so many family photographs.

His family's large estate held three occupants, dozens of tastefully decorated rooms, and a singular portrait of the family in the dining room. The painting had been commissioned before he had headed to Hogwarts. The austere faces of his parents stared at him whenever he came home for the holidays; they would give him harsh commentary whenever his parents were otherwise occupied, which was fairly often.

Still, he supposed, it had been better than eating in silence.

Now this house, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of silent. Draco could hardly imagine growing up in a house with six siblings. What was it like, he wondered, to always share your space with another? To always be in the company of another? To squabble and laugh and find companionship with so many other people?

Draco had grown to appreciate solitude, certainly. But there had been a time when he wanted a sibling. For years he begged his parents to no avail. Finally, when he was eight years-old, his mother had fallen pregnant with a second child. Draco had been thrilled. He had read every book he could find in Flourish and Blotts about having a baby brother or sister and had gathered his allowance to buy a toy for the baby. But all that changed on a rainy summer afternoon. He had spent the day at the Nott's house only to come home and find his mother sitting outside in the rain.

She had lost the baby. His mother didn't leave her bed for weeks.

Draco never wished for a sibling again. Instead, he learned to enjoy being alone.

The Burrow was practically bursting at the seams with life and energy, and as grateful as he was to have been offered a safe place, he wasn't sure how he would survive the hustle and bustle.

It was at this exact moment that a yell ripped him from his own thoughts.

"Ronald Weasley! Sit down immediately. You are making a fool of yourself!" Hermione raised her voice and it so it seemed, was taking the Weasel down a peg.

Draco smiled at the thought.

After loitering around the sitting room for a few more minutes, listening as bits of conversation floated in and out of hearing range (Draco was quite sure he heard "ferret" several times), a rather flustered Hermione reappeared in the doorway.

"You're wanted in the kitchen." She didn't elaborate. Draco jogged over to her and they walked back together. The table was now filled with redheads. He recognized most of them. Weasel King. Weaselette. The Swot. The twins. Draco assumed the two older lads were the other brothers. The whole lot of them scowled as he entered, but he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.

He took a seat next to Hermione at the table. Though he didn't realize it was possible, Ron's expression appeared to grow even surlier.

The confrontation with the entire Weasley clan went exactly as Draco had predicted: long, loud, and annoying. The four youngest siblings had spent a great deal of time yelling at him and then yelling amongst themselves. Had the subject of the yelling not been himself, Draco would have loved to observe from nearby while making snide running commentary.

Eventually, everyone practically had screamed themselves hoarse. Draco had hardly said a single word in the exchange. The elder Weasleys and Hermione argued with the younger ones, and Draco wasn't sure if he could have gotten a word in even if he wanted to. Hermione had almost turned purple in the face defending him against the Weasel King in particular. Draco smiled to himself as he thought of this several hours after the confrontation. After she told Ron that he "could either accept the fact that some people are capable of change or stuff it," Draco could have kissed her. That brilliant witch may not have been terribly eloquent in that one moment, but to him, she truly had a way with words. Weaselbee had stomped away after that, leaving the family meeting to its awkward dangling conclusion.

He had spent the rest of the morning sitting at the kitchen table as others bustled around him, unsure if doing anything at all would be irksome to the family that just took him in against their will. Weaselette and the twins glared daggers at him any time they passed. Ron was nowhere to be found. The rest of the family hardly acknowledged his presence, which suited him just fine, frankly. Only Hermione offered a smile and a pat on the shoulder as she walked past.

Draco was left to his own thoughts for some time until Mrs. Weasley plopped down in the chair beside him some time later, slightly out of breath and holding a small platter of sandwiches. She, too, smiled. "Draco, I've got to be honest. Arthur and I are fine with you coming to stay with us, though I admit the timing is a bit fiddly. Bill and Fleur are marrying here in just two weeks and there is so much to do."

"I can stay out of the way. Honestly, that's fine." Draco suggested.

"Don't be silly, dear. I've got Hermione coming down here in a moment to help you with the programs. They'll need copying and folding. Since your wand is currently…unavailable…I figured I could let you fold them."

Wedding preparations? He was going to be made to do some mundane tasks? Without magic, no less. Draco held back a sneer. He had to keep his goal in mind. This was going to be harder than he thought. Heaving a sigh, Draco nodded his head. "Yeah, all right. I'll help. Why not?"

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley stood, mopping her brow. "I'll get the sample program."

Hermione appeared just after Mrs. Weasley left and replaced her in Draco's neighboring seat.

"Where have you been just now?" Draco leaned on his elbow, facing her.

"I was up in Ron's room if you must know."

Draco frowned. He didn't like the thought of Hermione alone with Weaselbee, though he wasn't exactly sure why it bothered him.

"What were you doing with him? Snogging him after weeks apart?" Draco spat.

Hermione turned pink and furrowed her brow. "Certainly not. Ron and I don't do…that. I was upstairs trying to get him to come around about you."

"Has he?"

"Well…no. Not exactly. Ron can be so stubborn when he wants to be, and his stubbornness is especially tenacious when it comes to Draco Malfoy."

Draco sniggered and Hermione cracked a momentary smile.

"Well, I suppose that's an accomplishment to be proud of." Draco grabbed a sandwich and took a bite. Swallowing, he continued, "So, Mother Weasley wants me to fold programs without magic. Any chance you'll give me my wand back so we can finish eons early?"

Hermione grinned through a bite of sandwich. "Nope. Sorry. I'll copy the programs quickly and help you fold by hand. How's that?"

He grumbled and grabbed the first copied pink program as it materialized before him.

The two worked in companionable silence for a bit until they heard a distinctly feminine giggle from the stairwell.

"Is that Weaslette?" Draco scoffed, craning his neck to look for red hair.

"Ginny? Oh, goodness no. That's Fleur." Draco could tell Hermione was suppressing an eye roll.

"That's right. How did a Weasley manage to land Delacour? Isn't she part Veela?"

"Well, I'm not sure if you noticed, but Bill is very handsome, himself."

"Afraid I hadn't noticed. Facial hair and cocks don't really do it for me."

Unfortunately, Hermione had chosen this exact moment to take a drink of water, and she immediately choked in surprise, spraying most of the contents of her mouth into her lap. Draco let out a barking laugh as he watched her splutter and turn beet red. Bill and Fleur appeared in the kitchen right then.

"Oi Malfoy! What have you done to Hermione, then?"

Coughing, Hermione managed an answer. "Nothing, Bill. He just made me laugh at the wrong moment."

Bill seemed to accept the answer.

"Bill, let's go outside. I want to take a walk before dinner," Fleur insisted, taking her fiancé by the hand. The eldest Weasley brother kissed her and the two stepped out the door and into the garden.

Draco allowed his mind to wander as he folded programs. He thought the two seemed very content. What would it feel like to marry someone? Surely, he would have to live through the war to find out. And even if he did survive the war, would he even be permitted to marry for love? No one in his family had done such a thing for centuries, unless you counted the family members who had been removed from the family tree. No, it was probably an arranged marriage that awaited him if his parents had anything to do with it.

What if your parents are dead? The thought floated across his mind and he tried to shake it. Now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

Draco's musings turned back to the present. He watched as Hermione smiled at the kitchen door after the lovebirds made their exit. He could see an odd sort of longing in her eyes. She was a girl, of course, and girls went gaga over romance. He had certainly seen enough of that from Pansy Parkinson to make him gag. Hermione didn't seem to be the type to obsess over lovey-dovey things like Pansy, though. Watching Hermione's soft mouth turn upward at the sight of an engaged couple, he decided that it would be rather pleasant to romance Hermione.

Surely, it would be Weasel King who would have that honor, though. Draco wasn't thick. He saw the way they had looked at each other for years. If this damned war ever ended, the two would certainly tie the knot and produce a whole nest full of red-headed children.

For the second time that afternoon, the thought of Ron Weasley being together with Hermione made his chest tighten slightly. Something about that picture didn't sit right. Rather than dwell on the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, though, Draco pushed his thoughts aside and cleared his throat.

"Are you going to stare out the door all day, or are you going to help me with these damn programs?"

Hermione turned back to face him. "Sorry, Draco. Lost in thought. Let's keep going."

Draco reached forward and grabbed one of Hermione's copies. "Just be careful not to get the programs wet or we'll have to start from scratch."

"Hey! You're the one who made me spit out my water with your vulgar comments. I don't like it when people use…dirty language."

Draco chuckled and threw a wink her way. "Whatever you say, Granger."

Draco has been wrangled into wedding prep. Poor guy. Harry makes his entrance next chapter!