Author's Note: Next chapter is here. This one went much better than the last one. They're moving along! Draco's got 5 months left of forced life as a Muggle. I hope everyone's new year is off to a great start. Not thrilled with the chapter title on this one, so suggestions are welcome, and as always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

Chapter 33: Summoned

Draco and Hermione strolled along together after the show, arm in arm. It had been a good show, though several times Draco had asked for specific clarifications on something Muggle going on.

The couple behind them had become rather annoyed and shushed them, though Hermione hadn't thought Draco's questions were loud enough to carry, and her responses had certainly been too quiet for the couple to have heard. Maybe the joyless pair just hadn't liked their heads being so close together.

Draco felt lighter than he had in a long time. He was done working at the restaurant. Books might be a little dusty, but he wasn't going to spill someone else's lasagna all over himself ever again. He could get up in the morning, go to the library, and come home in the evenings. Aside from an occasional Saturday he might be asked to work, he was working regular daytime business hours. The two weeks where he'd worked full time at the library and continued to work at the restaurant had been grueling. He glanced at the woman on his arm and a smile crossed his face.

Salazar only knew what she saw in him. It wasn't the gold in the family vault. Or the ancient legacy of his house's blood. Maybe it was his devilish good looks, but somehow, knowing Hermione, he knew that would never have been enough to draw her in on it's own. She simply liked him for himself, whoever that was anymore. It still surprised him sometimes. February was all but gone. Five more months until he had his magic back. Who would he be then? Where would he go? He shook his head, trying to imagine shelving books in the library, a wand sticking out of his pocket. But equally…how could he walk into a Ministry office and ask for a job after all this? What office would take him?

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quietly, brushing her cheek against his as they walked. "I know that look."

He pulled her closer. They were nearly back at their flats. "Just thinking about the future."

"Any particular part of it, or the whole universe?"

He chuckled. "Well, it may be a little selfish, but I was actually thinking more along the lines of the part I'm occupying." He looked sideways at her. "I get my magic back in five months," he said softly, not that there was much fear of anyone passing by hearing them.

"You do," she confirmed.

He took a breath and let it out, and then another before he found the words he wanted. "After everything that's happened…I don't know how I'll fit in in the real world when I go back in a few months. I can't go back to the Manor. I can't." He shuddered.

"You don't have to go back to the Manor," Hermione said. They'd had that conversation before. "You could move in with me. Or we could get a place together." It would be a big step, but with as much time as they spent together now, it hardly seemed like it would be much of an adjustment.

"I know. And I'm not worried about that. We'll be okay. No matter what." It surprised him sometimes, the things that didn't worry him. He'd never been in a relationship this serious before, with emotions this strong. It surprised him how easy it all felt sometimes. "It's what I'll do all the hours of the day that you're out saving the world that I wonder about," he added glibly.

"You've still got time to sort that out."

"I don't even know what the narrative is anymore."

It was Hermione's turn to tease him, to try to lighten the mood. "You work with books all day and you can't follow the narrative?"

They came to their building and began climbing the stairs. "You don't get The Prophet. I haven't heard any news of the wizarding world since I was sentenced. I don't know how the public opinion is running."

"Does the public opinion really matter?" They had said to one another that they didn't care what anyone else thought of their relationship. Hadn't they?

"Yes and no." He caught something in her voice and paused on the steps with her, releasing her arm but taking both of her hands. "I don't care what they think about us, except in how much harder it might make things for you. But what they think of me…that will make a difference when I try to find a job. I mean, I'm a Malfoy. Traditionally we don't have to work, we usually just hold positions of power. But I rather imagine that after everything—the war, Azkaban for my father, exile for my mother, my own unique punishment—I'm going to have to make my own way in the world. I've never had to do that before. Never considered it." To his surprise, Hermione laughed at him.

"Draco. Never? Really? You're doing it right now, and have been for months. You've gotten not one, but two jobs entirely on your own and learned to navigate a new world. That's huge."

He shook his head. "This is different. The Muggle world doesn't have any baggage attached to my name or face. It was a clean start, even if I didn't know what I was doing. Don't you see? This is what I'm worried about. There's no clean start for me when I go back. I was on the wrong side of the war. And even the people who were on that same side with me….well, we deserted them at the last minute. I'm not going to get a warm welcome anywhere."

"You and Harry have more or less made peace," she pointed out.

"Hmm," he said. "We'll see how he feels about me after we tell him our news tomorrow." He paused. "You still want to tell him?"

"We have to. Unless you're planning to stay in the Muggle world forever, we've got to tell everyone sometime." She put the key in the door and opened her flat.

"Tempting, but no. I don't want to spend all my days shelving books by hand that I could be levitating."

Setting down her handbag, Hermione went and poured them drinks, joining Draco on the couch. "Well, if you think public opinion will keep you out of a Ministry job, you could always apprentice yourself somewhere. Any field of study you particularly excelled at?"

"I'm excellent at fixing spells, but I'm not sure where that would fit in."

"You could see if George would take you on as an apprentice," she said, only half-teasing. "If I'm ever going to make any progress on changing the entire mindset of the wizarding world, I'm going to have to cut back on something else. I won't cut back on time with you, and I can't cut back on my apprenticeship, so that just leaves the joke shop. Though admittedly, I'd like to get that Mirror into production before I left." She shook her head. There just weren't enough hours in the day.

"Do you have a plan yet on all that?"

Hermione had to admit, it was still only the vaguest shaping of a plan. She knew she wanted a working knowledge of the Wolfsbane potions and various other healing and pain potions to provide at no cost to people suffering from lycanthropy. She was always careful to refer to them as people suffering from lycanthropy and not werewolves; their condition did not need to define them. Beyond that…she wanted legislation written that would make it illegal to discriminate based on a medical condition like that as long as the person was capable of doing their job. But how could she bringing these people out of the shadows? Give them the things that had been denied to them earlier in life? She was still working on it.

They sat and sipped their wine and talked, falling asleep lying together on the couch when they decided the future could wait. Hermione's head was on Draco's chest and his arms were wrapped around her. Really, that was the only thing that mattered immediately.

Hermione and Draco had just fixed lunch when Harry Apparated over, Teddy strapped into a baby carrier on his back, and a large diaper bag on one shoulder. Hermione hugged him and then turned him around by the shoulders so she could greet Teddy. The baby had a lightning bolt shaped scar on his head, black hair, and green eyes.

She looked at Harry. "Really?"

"He doesn't really have control over his Metamorphamagus powers yet. When someone walks into a room, he tends to mimic them," Harry explained, carefully unstrapping Teddy from his back. "I'll admit, it's a little unnerving. He keeps getting better at it."

"I'll say," Hermione agreed. "I imagine this is exactly what you looked like at his age." She took Teddy from Harry's arms and held him. "Lunch is all set out on the table, we were just waiting for you." She frowned for a moment. "You don't by any chance know a spell that will transform a chair into a highchair, do you?"

Harry motioned to the bag he'd set down. "It's in there, it's just got a shrinking charm on it. Do you know how much stuff you have to bring with you if you go out with a baby?" he asked.

"Enlighten me," drawled Draco, amused.

"Diapers, cleaning cloths, the high chair, toys, milk…" The list went on and on while Harry opened the bag and returned the high chair to it's proper size, taking Teddy from Hermione and putting him in it.

"So you're becoming a regular Mr. Mom?" Hermione asked.

"I'm still learning, but I'm taking care of him myself all weekend. Dromeda is taking a weekend…going to the cemetery I think, though all she said was that she wanted to spend some time by herself." He secured Teddy in the seat.

The three adults sat down at the table together and began to eat the sandwiches and crisps Hermione had prepared. "I'm glad you were able to make it out today."

"Hermione, I may not make it over here as much as I should, but I promise. I'll always be your friend. I'm not going to walk away again like I did this summer. I needed some space then, but…I'm figuring things out now."

Draco muttered something and Hermione gave him a look. She turned back to Harry. "I'm glad to hear that. We actually have something to tell you." She reached out and put her hand on Draco's. "We're seeing on another."

Harry simply looked from one of them to the other. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" Hermione asked, a little uncertain.

"Congratulations," he added. "Pass the salt?"

Draco passed the salt while Hermione stared at her friend, mouth open for a few seconds, then she snapped her mouth shut. "You were expecting this. You're not surprised at all."

Finally, Harry laughed. "Of course I'm not surprised. Were you really expecting to shock me? You should know me better than that by this point, Hermione." He reached across the table and squeezed Hermione's hand. "I've been expecting this since before Christmas. The idea took a little getting used to." His eyes flickered over Malfoy's face. "If I can move past 17 years of shitty treatment by my cousin, I can move past 7 years of adolescent taunting," Harry said. He looked back at Malfoy. "You were never a very good bully anyway."

"That wounds me, Potter. Wasn't I terrible and menacing?"

"No, really, you were whiny and spoiled," Hermione said, kissing his cheek. "I'm glad you've grown up." She turned back to her friend. "You're really okay with this?" Harry looked at her in all seriousness. "Hermione, who you date is your choice. If you think Malfoy's worth it, go ahead. Of the three of us, you were always the smart one. If you see something in him…" He shrugged. "I trust you. I trust your judgment. I don't imagine Malfoy and I will exactly be sharing childhood secrets anytime soon, but I'm not going to try and tell you you're making a mistake." He'd made his own share of mistakes. Leaving Hermione alone after Ron's death may have been one of them. But could he have been any better support for her than Malfoy had been? He'd been totally withdrawn from himself for months. "So…cheers." He raised the glass of juice in front of him on the table.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Hermione had moved around the table and hugged her friend. She'd hoped he'd be rational about it all, but knowing what Ron had been like, there had been a little ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach. It was gone now. Harry wasn't Ron.

Harry did his best to speak, despite the rather crushing pressure on his lungs. "So, now that that's out of the way, is anything else new? Other than your hair?" Harry asked.

Hermione told him at length about how her apprenticeship was going and how things were progressing with the joke shop. At Hermione's urging, Draco briefly explained his new job. Hermione pressed Harry to tell her more about himself. With McGonagall's permission, he'd be burying the mounted elf heads from his home on Hogwarts' grounds in a dedicated cemetery. He just needed to set the date. He spent nearly as much time at Dromeda's home as he did at Grimmauld Place, looking after Teddy. Kreacher had shown surprising warmth to the infant. Evidently, the house-elf felt there was something right in having a small child in the house again, as there hadn't been since Master Regulus had been young.

"Have you thought about what else you might want to do?"

"I mostly have stayed out of the wizarding world. Kingsley still thinks he can talk me into taking an Auror position. His last message suggested that if I wasn't willing to deal with the day to day danger of it, it would still be a morale boost to the seasoned Aurors and new recruits if I was one of them in name at least, even if I never did any missions out of the office." He shook his head. "I'm done with that. I don't know what's next for me, but…not that."

"I bet you'd make a fabulous busboy, Potter. I know a restaurant that's got an opening. I could give you a good recommendation," Draco drawled.

There was a general chuckle and Harry thanked him but declined.

Hermione started to ask about Ginny but Harry cut her off firmly. "Hermione. I trust you to make decisions about your own romantic life. Trust me to make decisions about mine. When I'm ready, I'll talk to Ginny. Not before."

Though her feathers were a little ruffled, Hermione left it at that. When lunch was done, she picked Teddy up out of his high chair and sat on the couch with him, feeding him from the bottle Harry brought out and warmed up.

While Hermione fed Teddy, Draco and Harry talked a little about Quidditch, since it was a subject they could find common ground on. Harry asked if she'd seen Neville again since New Year's.

"No, I should. If you'll tell me when you're going to Hogwarts for the house-elves, I'll see if I can get the day off and come. The three of us could get lunch at the Three Broomsticks." She didn't say 4. If Harry didn't want to see Ginny, she wouldn't push it. Instead, she looked apologetically at Draco. "I don't know how we'd get you there without magic."

"It's fine. I'm not sure I'm ready to see Hogwarts again. But bring me back some sugar quills."

"Me either," agreed Harry. It was part of the reason that, while he'd written to McGonagall to ask for permission about the house-elves remains, he hadn't actually set a date and gone through with it. The thought of setting foot in Hogwarts again…where Dumbledore died. Where Snape died. Remus. Tonks. Colin. Fred. The list was too long. Too hard. He couldn't face those ghosts, even if they were only metaphorical.

Hermione set the bottle aside and set Teddy against his shoulder. His hair had faded from a sharp black to a mousy brown that resembled hers.

Harry stayed into the evening, and they found things to continue talking about. Draco was nominated to hold onto Teddy while Hermione and Harry prepared dinner. Hermione looked back over her shoulder to see Draco bouncing him on his knee—right until Teddy spit up on him. He grimaced.

Hermione and Harry spoke quietly in the kitchen. "He'll have his magic back in a few months. It's taken this long for you to tell me. Are you ready for everyone else?"

"We have time before everyone else," she said, rummaging around in the fridge for a good piece of meat. "Besides, I don't care what they say."

"You never have," Harry agreed. "Rita Skeeter—"

"If that Skeeter woman wants to breathe one word about us anywhere, I will kindly send her a glass jar. I've already thought of the perfect label to stick inside the jar for her." There was a dreamy smile on her face. "Your new home."

"You're vindictive."

"No more than she deserves. Anyway, I appreciate your concern, Harry. I can handle myself. What about you? You can't stay away from the wizarding world forever."

"Why not? I could. If I wanted to. I don't have to have anything from them, except access to my vault. I know how to live as a Muggle."

She hugged him with one arm, careful not to get any raw meat on his shirt. "We'll figure out how to do it some day. How to live in the wizarding world with everything that's happened."

"Probably," Harry agreed.

"Can someone take the drool monster while I get a fresh shirt?" Draco called.

With an amused smile, Harry went to go take care of Teddy while Draco went back to his own flat to change. Hermione finished cooking dinner while the dishes from lunch washed themselves. Magic was useful.

March came, and with it the weather started to warm a little, and Belby called on Hermione to gather potions ingredients, as per her apprenticeship agreement. It was on one such Friday two weeks into March that Draco was home alone for the evening. He went to Hermione's most evenings now, though he never stayed in her bedroom. That was a line they hadn't crossed yet, though occasionally they fell asleep together on the couch.

Hermione would be out gathering moon-blossoming plants and insects for hours yet. Draco wandered through his flat, intent on finding something to do. For lack of a better alternative, he started tidying a little and found the journal Hermione had given him for Christmas and sat down, flipping through the pages. He saw several poor attempts at starting stories he'd hoped to sell to Muggles. Evidentally, he wasn't quite cut out for that.

No one else would ever read what was in this book now. It was almost a shame Hermione had wasted it on him. It was pretty, and there were so many empty pages, just waiting to be filled up. To have anything written in them.

Almost without realizing what he was doing, Draco found himself getting a pen. He began to write. After all, no one was going to see this. And for a wonder, the words seemed to come easily, though when he looked back at the pages he'd written, they were a surprise, even to him.