Either come closer or stay away. Having you in between is exhausting. – Lavender Brown Potter

Ron squirmed uncomfortably at the cosy table. He didn't want to have dinner with Harry and Lavender. It was awkward. It was uncomfortable. It was downright awful.

He watched the way Lavender doted on Harry and he felt revolted and relieved all at once. It was disconcerting and confusing at the same time. He'd never been more thankful he'd escaped Lavender's clutches when they were younger.

"Psst, Harry," Ron whispered loudly, his blue eyes carefully set on Lavender's back while she retrieved the main.

"Ron."

The singular word held warning, exhaustion, and annoyance. It was fairly impressive, not that it stopped Ron. He almost wished Hermione and Malfoy could witness the renewed relationship. It would have made dinner that much more satisfying.

"Does she uhm, does she call you anything?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry shoved away his empty salad plate with narrowed eyes and stiff shoulders.

"Well," Ron grinned, "Lavender was always really vocal with her Won-Won bit, so I'm curious. Does she shout Har-Har or even," he snickered, "Pot-Pot? Potty? Come on, Harry. Give me something here!"

Ron leant back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach, pleased with the furious blush on Harry's cheeks. He knew it. She said something and he was determined to discover it. It was the most fun he'd had in ages and for once, the teasing wasn't directed at him.

"Th-that's private." Harry cleared his throat nervously, green eyes flicked toward the swinging kitchen door.

"I'll ask her," Ron shrugged. "She might tell me, complete with details about your bedroom prowess."

"Prowess? Really Ron? You really need to stop using those calendar words."

"Oi, don't mock my Word-A-Day Calendar." Ron frowned as Lavender sauntered back into the dining room with some hideous concoction on a platter. "That looks wonderful Lav, what is it?"

Lavender smiled brightly, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright, and Harry wondered if that was always her reaction to compliments. The guilt cascaded over him and he vowed to discover every little nuance that made up his wife. He wouldn't fail her, not again.

"Are mashed potatoes supposed to be crunchy?" Harry asked stupidly.

Harry flinched from the force of Ron's kick, quickly realising his error. He grimaced and shoved a mouthful of beef between his lips. He braced himself for some sort of rancid sting to his tongue but was pleasantly surprised when it melted and slid down his throat.

"I don't know what this is, but it's delicious!" Ron heartily dug into his plate with a series of moans and Lavender preened. "D'ya think Malfoy and Hermione are faring alright with his parents, Harry? They were a right disaster after Williamson exploded and all."

Harry shook his head, "I don't envy them."

Lavender sat beside Harry and immediately set her hand on his thigh. Their relationship had been moving forward swimmingly and Harry didn't even flinch from her unexpected touch. He did, however, squirm uncomfortably as her hand traversed his thigh and gently cupped his bollocks through his trousers.

Harry hissed through his teeth spitting bits of potato in Ron's direction. His wife's talented hand was stroking him and it was exciting as much as it was terrifying. The last thing he wanted was to be on the receiving end of Ron's knowing glance.

"Yeah, I know what that means. Thanks for the vittles, Lav, but I think it's best if I fuck off. Maybe I'll give Pansy a visit; I could do with a shag. Or uhm maybe I'll wait for one of Hermione's angry owls, not sure yet. Anything's better than here, no offence or anything, but I really don't want to see the two of you rolling around in dinner."

Ron offered a quick wave and hurried toward the Floo as quickly as his feet would carry him. He nearly covered his ears when Lavender moaned 'oh Harry' and grappled with the Floo Powder just as Harry grunted 'take it all bitch'. They had issues, serious issues, especially if lumpy mash was foreplay.

"You're a disgrace."

Draco rolled his eyes and raked his fingers through his filthy blond hair. Of course, he was a disgrace. He had body parts and blood spatter decorating his clothing. He knew she'd be furious, his mother that is, but he hadn't a choice in the matter.

"Father said—"

"I know what he said, Draco! I didn't expect to see you covered in filth. You're staining my floors for Salazar's sake." Narcissa took a calming breath as her eyes passed over Hermione and her jaw tightened. "Ms Granger isn't faring much better. Gods, I can't even look at you. Go up to your rooms and make yourselves presentable. Dinner will be served promptly at seven."

Draco and Hermione shared an amused glance yet quickly turned away. The last thing they wanted was to succumb to inappropriate laughter. They couldn't imagine the sort of chastising they would receive for that.

"I suppose it's time to for us to rid ourselves of Williamson."

"I can't believe Theo sent us here directly from the scene. He knew we wouldn't have time for a quick Scourgify before being faced with your mother. He did this on purpose." Hermione dutifully followed Draco down the corridor.

"Of course he did. He's Nott. I'm sure he's having a good laugh with Zabini at our expense. We've barely got time to shower before dinner, let alone a shag," Draco grumbled.

"You're insatiable. We just had a shag, in front of Muggles, no less. I'm surprised your cock hasn't fallen off."

Hermione wrenched off her blouse and scoffed at the way Draco's eyes lingered on her bared torso. She managed to keep her lips firmly clamped together when an elf popped into Draco's bedchamber and retrieved her discarded clothing. Thus far, she was faring well.

"I can't help the instinct. I've explained this to you, Granger." Draco shucked his trousers and marched directly to the shower taps completely starkers.

"You've said a lot of things and never revisited them again. It's difficult to keep track." Hermione stepped into the steamy spray and closed her eyes as the water cascaded over her.

Draco pressed his palms against the edge of the sink basin, nearly wishing it was sharp enough to slice into his skin. He wasn't feeling particularly self-destructive but he craved the sting. He didn't want to discuss his bloody feelings but his options were limited. Her biting rhetoric was going to be the end of him.

"What is it you want me to say?"

Draco stepped into the shower scowling and managed to avoid the burning desire to shove her against the wall and have his way with her, again. She was fairly pliant as far as the shagging was concerned, which he appreciated. However, she wasn't the least bit amenable to anything else as far as their relationship was concerned.

"Malfoy, you've got to admit this," she gestured between them with soap dripping down her back, "is peculiar at best. I can't help but to believe this entire situation is due to the Fear Inducement Hex. Without it, this never would have happened." She turned her back and stood beneath the spray, sighing as the hot water worked the kinks from her shoulders.

Draco's fingers dug into her shoulders as he spun her around. He pushed her backwards until her back slammed into the tiled wall. His grey eyes blazed with silent anger and she sputtered as hot water filled her mouth.

"Your obstinance knows no bounds, does it?" Draco snarled, wet blonde hair in his eyes, teeth bared. "You are just bound and determined to be difficult. Why is this so difficult for you to comprehend? Dammit, Granger, we're good together."

His eyes followed the path of the suds as they slipped down her collarbone and settled on her enticing pink nipple. His tongue instinctively ran along his teeth and he felt them sharpen. It wasn't the time. He knew it wasn't the time but damned if he could stop himself.

Draco watched the way her lips parted and her eyes widened, filled with knowing intent. She remained silent, excluding a muted gasp as he lowered his head to her throat. He nipped the slick skin, held her close, and revelled in the way her body melted against his as his teeth sunk into her.

"Granger," he sighed. "I fucking love you. Now, how do you feel about me?"

He used their close proximity to his advantage and pressed against her. He liked the way her eyes sort of glazed over and her cheeks flushed. It was better when she hadn't the opportunity to formulate every perfect thought.

"It's complicated," Hermione stammered. "I can't think when you're doing that."

Draco licked the shell of her ear and pressed into her. His knee gently parted her slippery thighs and hissed against her jaw. He wasn't playing fair and he knew it, but so did she.

"I don't want you to think. I haven't been able to think since the day we were partnered. It's only fair you can't think when we're naked and pressed together." His hands slipped to her waist and tugged.

"I, well you know I care about you, obviously. You're my partner and there's this whatever this is between us but without that—" Hermione lost her train of thought when Draco's fingers danced along her inner thigh. "I haven't spent much time analyzing my feelings and then you completely blindsided me."

Draco slapped his free hand against the tile beside her head and growled. It wasn't a vicious sign but it was an obvious indication of his contention. His narrowed eyes zeroed in on her trembling bottom lip and while it eased some of his anger, he still wanted a definitive fucking answer.

"I can feel it, did you know that, kitten?" Draco pecked her lips lightly and willed the water to remain hot. "I can feel it coursing through you when we're shagging."

"Dammit," Hermione muttered. "Dammit, it was inevitable. I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to, even if I knew how. I don't understand why the words are so important. You know how I feel without me having to specify and it's sort of nice in a way. I'm not good with these sorts of things. Your mother is going to send an elf if we don't dress."

Draco studied her, really looked at her and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. He was supposed to be the emotionally stunted one in their relationship. He was the one that was deprived of affection as a child and struggled with accepting kindness. He was the one with the scrolls worth of issues and yet it was his wife that was incredibly insecure.

"Knowing the feelings exist and hearing the declaration isn't the same, love."

"Tell me then," Hermione paused with a slow blink, "how could I not? I don't know how…not to love you. It snuck up on me and I don't know when it happened or how it happened and it's terrifying."

Draco twisted the taps and pushed off the tile. He was still perturbed. She had given an answer in a roundabout sort of way and that's not what he wanted. He wanted the ridiculous declaration. He wanted to feel the warmth in his chest. It wasn't enough dammit.

"I have an inherent fear that everything good will be taken from me," Hermione continued. "I know it's illogical and I continuously attempt to rationalize it.

'I thought going to Hogwarts would be amazing and it was but it was also horrible. Then there was the War and I lived every day utterly terrified that I would end up like Ted Tonks only to wind up on in your home with your psychotic aunt.

'Then, of course, there was Ron. It's fine between us now and I'm glad you're friends, but I didn't see that ending. I thought that was it. I thought, finally, everything was going to be alright and I'd have that one thing that everyone talks about; that one defining moment, that one thing that doesn't end. Instead, everything ends and it's a mess and well—" She shrugged sort of helplessly.

Draco wrapped Hermione in a fluffy emerald towel and held her close. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and dripped down her back, splattering against his hands, but he didn't care. Her vulnerability was endearing and it tugged at his heartstrings.

"This is it, Granger. This is the one thing. This isn't ending." He cracked a small smile and watched her lips twitch.

"You can't say that. You don't know that. Things happen, terrible things. We just washed off bits of Williamson. We're constantly in danger, anything could happen. You can't make promises like that!" Hermione's knees knocked together beneath the cover of her fluffy towel and she sniffed, determined to refrain from crying.

Draco wiped away the droplets of water from beneath her eyes and remained silent. He knew she would need a few moments to collect herself. He dried her slowly, avoiding her hair, and led her toward the wardrobe nestled in the corner of the room.

"You're afraid of losing me." Draco knew he sounded a bit smug but it was only fitting as he felt a bit smug.

"Of course I am!" Hermione yanked a blue chiffon gown from the wardrobe and tossed her hands in the air. "I love you," she shouted and immediately clamped her hands over her mouth. "You did that on purpose!"

Draco clucked his tongue mockingly, "my poor wife was manipulated into admitting she loved me; yeah I'm not even sorry."

"You're unbelievable."

"Thank you." Draco bowed dramatically and whisked her into his arms.

"That wasn't a compliment," Hermione hissed even as she wound her arms around his neck.

She leant into him, her lips pliant beneath his and while she knew they were late, at that moment it didn't matter. He was right, though she was remiss to admit it. Finally saying the words had altered something between them and while their kiss was chaste, the passion was immeasurable.

"I want to have a baby," Draco whispered against her jaw.

"I know. I just, I don't want to be a single mother because my husband got himself killed on some stupid mission. I don't want to be your mother—"

"I don't want you to be my mother. I want you to be the mother of my children." Draco's fingers wound in her hair and held her in place as he stared into her dark eyes.

"I won't do it until this case is finished. It's too dangerous to even consider while I'm a Hit Wizard," Hermione sighed as his teeth nipped her throat.

"Why do you think I bought the Apothecary?" Draco crooned, smirking smugly as she melted in his arms.

Theodore Nott groaned and buried his head in his crossed arms. He hated this case. It defied logic. It defied reason. It was senseless violence and mayhem, which seemed to serve no purpose other than to create havoc.

"Fucking bollocks."

He smashed his fist on the pile of files beside his head and cursed his existence. He hadn't wanted to work for the Ministry, not really. He enjoyed the meticulousness, the intrigue. He viewed each case as though it were a complicated puzzle and it was his job to align the pieces. Of course, it helped that it was the last thing his father wanted for him.

"Nott, there's a missive."

Theo huffed and shoved away from his desk. He stalked toward the ever-present Blaise Zabini and tore it from the bastard's fingers. He didn't mind Zabini, not really, but fuck he hated everyone lately. He hated Malfoy and his incessant need to snog Granger. He hated Granger and her creation of the Fear-Inducement Hex. He hated fucking Potter and his inability to choose a bloody witch.

"Oh, that's fucking fantastic," Theo growled while his eyes scoured the hastily scrawled words. "Are there any fucking Aurors here? Did they all fuck off? Where's Weasley? He'd be good for this."

"Peasegood is about and that Nigel bloke, I think."

Theo sneered nastily and thrust the letter against Zabini's burly chest. He watched impatiently while Zabini read and even longer for the shock to settle in. Relief settled over him as the parchment shook and for a moment, he didn't feel alone.

"Why?" Blaise whispered. "Why would he do this? What sense is that? Why would he bother with Muggles at all? This doesn't make any sense at all. Should we send an owl to the Malfoys?"

"Fuck all of that rot. We'll send for Weasley and Potter." Theo ruffled his own hair and wished he had gone home early.

His quill flew across the parchment as he bent over the desk. He detested requesting Aurors. He knew he probably should have referred it to Peasegood and Wolpert but he couldn't. He'd worked beside Potter and Weasley and he owed it to them. They had an understanding between them and the last thing any of them needed was interference.

"Nott looks angry."

Theo glanced up, relieved to see Weasley wander into the offices. He smirked slightly, recognizing the irony of relying on a Weasley after years of tension and waved him over. The Auror's sudden appearance did make things a bit easier and anything that saved him time was a sure winner.

"Where's the other idiot?" Theo demanded.

"Shagging his wife I imagine," Ron shrugged. "They seem to be doing that a lot lately and I for one wish they would stop doing it while I'm eating."

"Yeah, he's probably done now, from what I've heard it never takes long. Perhaps that's the source of contention in his marriage." Zabini chuckled and even Ron managed a small grin.

"No matter," Theo interjected. "We've received a letter from McLaggen. It seems he's the bloke responsible for the attacks. I can't pretend I understand the logic behind it but he's confessed. I need you and Zabini to pick him up for interrogation."

"McLaggen? Where's the sense in that?" Ron scratched his head and frowned. "Do you suppose he's been molesting witches as well? I mean, it would be nice to clear up these cases."

"Haven't a clue honestly. There wasn't a mention of it in his hasty confession. It merely said he realised the error of his ways and while he still harboured animosity toward Muggles, murdering Wizards was never his intent."

Weasley nodded slowly and looked to Zabini who only shrugged. There seemed to be a lot of fucking shrugging going on and it was grating on Theo's nerves. He was tired, bloody exhausted really, and the sooner the case was solved, the better.

"Let's just head over to his house."

Theo marched toward the doors and the two Aurors quickly followed. He knew they were curious as to his foul mood but he didn't want to discuss his fucking feelings, not with them, not with anyone. How on earth could he tell them he'd lost two loves. It was ridiculous.

"I think Greengrass running off with Longbottom has finally done him in."

Theo heard Zabini whispering to Weasley and ignored it. The man wasn't wrong but he wasn't right either. It was more than that. He had cared about Hannah and there were moments when he lamented the dissolving of their Contract but he had loved Astoria, loved her deeply. He knew he was just another suitor to her and the fact she ran off with Longbottom stung his pride more than his heart. He understood her obsession with Malfoy.

It was assumed they would marry from the time they were all at Hogwarts until Granger stepped into the picture. Theo had honestly believed he had a chance then. Astoria would finally see him as more than a calculated pawn and realise he loved her but that isn't what happened at all.

"He's too good for her. She's whiny and entitled. She's definitely shaggable but her personality leaves much to be desired."

As Theo stepped into the Floo he felt slightly better. It wasn't often he heard anyone say he was too good for anything and never once had the words stemmed from a Weasley. He didn't appreciate being the source of gossip but there were worse things to be said.

"I don't think he's been here for a while. It reeks something awful." Weasley gagged on the stench of spoilt food and rubbish as he stumbled from the Floo.

"Could have something to do with that body over there," Zabini muttered as he pressed a handkerchief to his nostrils.

Theo hastily inhaled through his mouth before realising his error. He could taste the rancidity on his tongue and nearly spewed on his shoes. He gagged and pushed through it. It would never do to vomit on the scene of an obvious crime.

He knelt beside the decomposing body of Cormac McLaggen and withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket. There was a phial beside the body and from closer inspection, it seemed to be poison. The black liquid dregs swirled in the bottom of the amber phial and the smell was nearly nonexistent.

"Poison from the looks of it. Never imagined McLaggen would be the sort to off himself."

"This feels wrong. He's obviously been dead for a while and the letter was only sent today." Weasley carefully stepped over McLaggen's body with narrowed eyes as he ventured further into the cottage.

"There are footprints in the dust near the back door," Zabini offered from afar.

"Fucking fantastic," Theo growled. "Foul play is obvious. McLaggen was a pompous arse but he wasn't homicidal. There are papers on the desk in the corner and the handwriting doesn't match the letter. This was sloppy work, which means either we're close or they fucked up. Here's what we need to do—"

"Pansy!" Weasley lumbered into the sitting room with wild blue eyes and dishevelled red hair.

"We definitely don't need to do Pansy," Zabini snickered.

"What? No. Shut up, Zabini! The safe house. McLaggen owned the safe house. His bedroom's been ransacked by the way, but we've got to get the girls out of there."

"Weasley, go. Take Pansy to Daphne and her mother. Fuck, we should have done that the moment Astoria eloped with Longbottom." Theo winced and rubbed his forehead. "Stay with them. Ward the safe house before you leave, just to err on the side of caution."

Theo took a cleansing breath to collect his thoughts while Weasley disappeared into the Floo. This was a disaster. He couldn't rely on his best Hit Wizards, not now. He knew he would be drawn and quartered if he dared to intrude on the Malfoys. Narcissa would hold his bollocks in her hand and tear them from his flesh if he suggested postponing the wedding.

"Assign Wolpert to guard the scene. We'll secure it, ward it, and toss a Stasis Charm around McLaggen. Smith can handle things until after the wedding. It's shit but even the Ministry won't take kindly interfering with the Malfoy wedding. It's a prime opportunity for them to take credit for disintegrating the remaining prejudices of the War."

"Dawlish too. He's a shit but he'll do his job. Fuck, I'm going to have to inform Williams and Robards. This is a bloody nightmare." Theo shoved his wand into his pocket while nodding at Zabini's suggestions.

"Nightmare? Not quite. I imagine it will be a million times worse once Hermione Granger discovers we kept valuable information from her." Zabini shuddered and tucked his handkerchief into the pocket of his navy blazer.

"Fuck my life."

"I'm going to be sick," Lucius moaned dramatically.

He shuddered with revulsion as he watched his son, his only son canoodle with a Muggleborn. His hopes and dreams were snuffed in the blink of an eye and his wife had aided in the disaster. It didn't help matters that he was surrounded by damask and chiffon but that was the least of his issues.

"I think it's lovely," Narcissa crooned. "You must admit they are a striking couple, Lucius."

"I can't pretend I've noticed," he sniffed. "Must they snog in my presence? I am fairly certain my supper shall make an explosive reappearance if Draco continues his exploration of his wife's thigh."

Lucius snapped his fingers and Sweetheart appeared with a fresh tumbler of firewhiskey while his son growled his displeasure. He didn't understand why his presence was necessary. He merely wanted to retreat to the safety of his study with his firewhiskey and his books.

"I remember the days when you were incapable of keeping your hands from my thighs." Narcissa sighed forlornly and returned her attention to place settings.

Lucius ignored her less than subtle gibe and dutifully perused china patterns with bleary eyes. He pretended to hem and haw over the limited choices and finally gestured toward something resembling birds. It was blue. He liked blue. Everyone liked blue.

"Silver and blue are classic colour combinations," he offered softly, hoping to ease her tension.

"You remembered," Narcissa sighed, her cheeks lightly tinged pink.

"Please don't shag at the table." Draco groaned.

Lucius glowered as his son unceremoniously dragged the Muggleborn onto his lap. He didn't like it, not one bit, but his son was ridiculously smitten. He had to admit Draco's demeanour had drastically improved since Marking the girl. He merely wished the choice wasn't quite so distasteful, though he knew better than to continue to voice his objections.

"Says the Malfoy with his hand up a witch's skirt."

"Mrs Malfoy," Hermione interrupted. "Have you considered a subtle shade of pink to offset the masculinity of silver and blue?"

"Brilliant, Ms Granger, utterly brilliant!"

Narcissa clapped her hands together much like an overly excited toddler and Lucius smiled. He spied the Granger girl staring at him from the corner of his eye and refrained from snarling in her direction. He preferred his wife abundantly happy. It eased his guilt, of which there was plenty.

"I still don't understand why we need to have such a lavish wedding when we're already married," Draco mumbled into Hermione's hair.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione sighed. She paused, swallowing loudly and Lucius inclined his head, encouraging her to continue. "Your mother hasn't a daughter, let her pretend she does, just for a day."

"Fuck," Lucius muttered and tossed his hands in the air, spilling the last dregs of his firewhiskey. "What? Don't look at me like that. I can't very well hate her after that, now can I?"