Draco's hug with his father had been cringe-worthy. However, he went along with it because he wanted to provide a good a example to his children. That meant making them say hello and at the very least give him a handshake. Hermione, grown woman as she was, he didn't make her do anything (as if he could). She reacted just as he expected she would and greeted his father with a curt nod and his name.

"Auror Malfoy," one of the Aurors who had escorted the family to the court chamber addressed. "Auror Potter said that you and your family are more than welcome to use the Floo in his office to avoid the media waiting."

"Good," Draco accepted, making brief eye-contact with Harry across the room and nodding. "We should leave now then."

"Very well. After you."

Draco headed the family line. Hermione was just behind him, her eyes keeping watch on their children as one stood on her left and the other two on her right. Narcissa and Lucius were at the rear while Aurors flanked the family on all sides as before. The walk to Harry's office wasn't an entirely loud one, nor was it quiet. Narcissa and Lucius had been professing bouts of gratitude and love to each other from the moment the parole decision had been made. While not very overly affectionate in public, the small doses given would be enough to shock anyone not familiar with his parents.

"Mother, would you and Father like to go first?" Draco offered politely once they had reached Harry's office and their Auror escort had gone. Narcissa nodded eagerly. Her arm had been wrapped around her husband's in a death grip as though letting him go would reverse the Wizengamot's decision.

"Absolutely," Narcissa beamed before turning to Lucius. "I cannot wait for you to see the house. It was decorated with you in mind, of course."

Lucius smiled, patting her hand once as they walked into the fireplace.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa said before dropping down some Floo Powder. "Stop by once you get settled at home, yes?"

"Will do," Draco nodded. He watched his parents become enveloped by the familiar green flames and then sighed immediately after.

"Alright, one or two of you with me," Hermione urged the kids. Nysa ran over with a wild, "Me!" and mother and daughter disappeared home. That left the "men" behind standing silently until the eldest Malfoy of the three spoke.

"Well," Draco cleared his throat. "What do you think of him?"

Caelum looked up at his father (which wasn't very far up considering he was just a head shorter than his dad now). "Thank Merlin you don't look even half as scary."

"Seconded," Aiden piled on.

That was as much as Draco could've asked for and he took it. They all entered the fireplace and headed home where they dispersed. Nysa was in her room a few doors down, while Hermione was in their bedroom and obviously waiting for him.

"It could've been a worse meet-and-greet," Hermione shrugged. "I had expected him to ignore me completely, not make direct eye-contact."

"Yes, well, he was in public, wasn't he?" Draco reminded. "There's only so much you can show of yourself when in such limelight."

Draco sighed and ran his hands over his face. He was going to yank on his hair next before Hermione stopped him with a gentle grip on his wrists.

"Do you want some good advice?"

Draco smiled a bit as he replied, "Does it come in the form of taste bud-frying alcohol?"

"No," Hermione laughed before lowering his hands to his sides. "Don't give yourself something to stress about until it happens. Your father hasn't flung a curse at me yet, so count it as a blessing. Now, go see your mother and find out what she wanted."

"Yes, dear," he bowed slightly while maintaining a cocky grin. That only made his wife laugh a bit more before she half-heartedly pushed him through the door.

Draco left his home and took the walk to his mother's. No, his parents' house. It wasn't just hers anymore despite the fact that he had made her the sole owner of it. No, there was a new occupant there, and it was perhaps for that reason the trek between the two locations took twice as long than normal. When he finally got to the front door Draco hesitated. Would he find just his mother? Her and his father? His father alone?

Regardless of who was waiting on the other side to greet him, Draco entered the house. He immediately became distracted by a ruckus deep within the house. He followed the noise and both brows rose on his head when he found the kitchen overrun with his mother's house elves. They were cooking up a storm and it baffled him even further.

"Why are you all cooking so much?"

"Mistress Malfoy ordered her elves to make a feast, Young Master Malfoy," one of the elves replied as she mixed batter in a bowl. "So we are making a feast!"

Draco didn't miss the fact that he was called "Young" Master Malfoy, and it grated on his nerves far more than it should have. Second, he was puzzled as he contemplated the word "feast."

"A feast? Why?"

"For your father's homecoming, of course," Narcissa said from behind her son. She had come downstairs to make sure that everything was going accordingly and, happily, came upon her son in the process. "I have planned a dinner."

"A dinner?" Draco choked. "You planned a dinner?"

"Well, of course I did!" Narcissa answered brightly. "Your father needed a proper welcome when he returned home. I had ordered the house elves to get everything they needed this morning to begin making it and setting the dining room as soon as we arrived home."

Draco continued to stare at his mother like she'd grown a second head. "What if he didn't get released?"

"I had hope."

Draco snapped his mouth shut at that and frowned. There was no denying that. And now that her hope had come to fruition, his mother was ecstatic while he was completely miserable.

"So," Narcissa continued. "As I had planned to tell you, we will have dinner. You, Hermione, and the children will-"

"No," Draco said forcefully. So much so that Narcissa's joyous, yet hardly infectious demeanor had crashed. He cleared his throat and flicked open the top button on his collar in a nervous gesture. "I'll come. I'll ask Hermione if she wants to, but won't force her. The children won't be in attendance. They'll stay far from him until I can trust what comes out of his mouth."

"Draco," Narcissa scolded in a tone more sad than angry. "Your father has much more decorum than that."

"If he does, then this dinner will prove it to me."

"Mum," Aiden whined. "We don't need a babysitter. I'm fifteen! Caelum's fifteen too! Well, at the end of the year, but still! We can take care of Nysa."

"Oh, sure," Hermione said as she slipped on her shoes. "And your father and I will come home to find her shooting Uncle Ron and Uncle George's fireworks out of one of the upstairs windows. Again."

"Right. That…" Aiden sheepishly replied. "That was an accident."

"So you and your brother have explained, and I hate accidents. That said, Victoire is waiting downstairs for you."

"Okay," he groaned. He groaned even further when Hermione ruffled his hair a little and she grinned. Aiden was quite like his father when it came to his appearance. Don't touch the hair and don't wrinkle the clothes. Those two points were crucial.

Hermione followed Aiden downstairs where Caelum and Nysa were (surprisingly) peacefully playing Wizard's Chess on the living room coffee table (completely Ron's fault for showing them how to play and strategic moves). Draco and Victoire were near the back door talking.

"I love him terribly, but I'm two seconds away from getting a second bed," Victoire laughed.

Draco smirked at that and spotted Hermione making his way over to him. He waited until she was close enough before he said, "Teddy will figure out the 'Dos and Don'ts' of sharing a bed with a woman soon enough. Either that or he'll get his bits hexed off."

"Oh no, Teddy wouldn't like that at all," Hermione joined the conversation with a mischievous grin. "When it was us, my lovely husband learned better. Especially since I was pregnant at the time and he knew that I'd make good on that promise."

"Absolutely," Draco confirmed. "Now I lay and shiver while she sleeps comfortably under blankets. Heating Charms only last but so long."

Victoire had burst out into hysterics as she shook her head at the pair. "Is it really worth a cold night?"

"To keep my favorite partners in crime intact? Damn straight."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at that, ending the gesture with a kiss on his cheek. "We should head on over, Draco."

Draco's head lolled back once before agreeing with a nod. They bid their kids farewell, saying that they'd be back after about two hours or so.

"Exactly how elaborate is this dinner?" Hermione asked.

"My mother had all of the house elves on kitchen duty if that paints a picture for you."

Hermione's eyes widened. Yes, it certainly did. She took an unnoticeable deep breath as they walked over to the house. One thing that was certain was the smell of the home. It was simply heavenly. The house elves had to have worked themselves to the bone and put their hearts and souls into it.

Draco took Hermione's hand and led her to the dining room where, as expected, his mother and father were already at the table. The usually large table that would seat six (Narcissa, her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren) had been scaled down for the evening to a simple four-seater. It made Draco cringe. The distance he had been anticipating had been cut down severely.

"Hermione, you look lovely!" Narcissa beamed. She then gently nudged her husband beside her. "Doesn't she look wonderful, Lucius?"

Lucius, who had been greatly interested in the dinnerware, looked up. Despite a few obvious wears on the body from two decades in Azkaban (a thinner build, a slight grey hue to his skin, and tired eyes), he appeared no different than when last he had been in the public eye.

His eyes locked onto Hermione briefly before parting his lips and saying, "She is...adequate, I suppose."

Hermione had to bite down on her tongue. Not because she wanted to say something in response, but because Draco had tightened his hold on her hand enough to break a finger bone.

"Draco," she whispered and gestured to her hand. He realized and loosed his grip before ushering them to their seats. Once seated the entire atmosphere was painful, to say the least. Son and wife were staring at their plates. Lucius was interested in the decor. Narcissa was the only one looking at everyone else and it frustrated her as both the matriarch and a hostess.

"Dingle!" Narcissa called in the air.

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy?" Dingle the house elf appeared by her side.

"Ah, there you are. You may bring the first course and continue with the other courses in the proper time schedule and order."

"Right away, Mistress Malfoy!"

No sooner had Dingle left did the food appear. Everyone seemed to be relieved to have something to do other than speak to each other. However, a dinner was more than just stuffing one's face and Narcissa was not going to have that going on at her table.

"Is Victoire watching the children, Draco?" Narcissa asked. Draco looked up and let his fork hover near his mouth before answering.

"Yes. She said it was good timing too. Getting out of the house would let Teddy have a bit of space while he worked on his research."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Andy told me that he's been working so hard. Too hard, in fact. She's taken up using a charm to check his health status every time she visits."

"Harry too," Hermione chuckled. "But it's fantastic work that he's doing and certainly not easy. Any type of research related to lycanthropy can be challenging."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius interrupted. All eyes turned to him as he continued, "Did you say lycanthropy?"

Hermione lifted her chin a bit before her reply. "I did."

"Why on earth would anyone want to do research on lycanthropy?"

"To help," she said simply. "Teddy's working on a modified version of the Wolfsbane Potion. The effects leave the drinker exhausted most times and at other times desperately ill. He's hoping to provide a better alternative."

Lucius didn't give a reply, although there was a small huff before he resumed eating. Quiet fell on the dinner table again before Narcissa attempted conversation for the second time.

"Hermione, dear, did Xavier write you?"

"Yes, he did. I told him that any time works for me and that I could work with both his and your schedules."

"Excellent," Narcissa smiled before turning to Lucius, "I've told you about Xavier Marsh, haven't I?"

"The muggle fellow, yes,"

"Muggleborn," Hermione couldn't help but say. Tension had filled the air and Narcissa caught Draco's gaze. What was clearly written over her son's face was "strike one."

Narcissa cleared her throat. "Xavier has a few investment opportunities he wants to swing our way and I'm sure that it will be quite beneficial. We all made an extraordinary financial gain last year when he had introduced us to… What was it, Hermione? Bit-something?"

"coin, Narcissa."

"Yes, that's right. Perhaps you would like to sit in on the meeting, Lucius? It would concern you as well."

Lucius paused his eating. "Concern me how?"

"Well," she replied with a bit of a smile. "I was hoping to surprise you, but there are a few stocks in your name. Now that you've been released from Azkaban they can finally be turned over to you."

Food was no longer an interest. Lucius had promptly set his knife and fork down and stared at his wife in disbelief.

"You put muggle stock in my name?"

"No," Hermione announced from across the table. "I did. Stock is a lot more robust in the muggle world than it is here, so I figured that it would be better for you. Not to mention with the current exchange rate between muggle money and galleons, you would make far more money this way."

Lucius was the epitome of shocked. "Why would you do that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just trying to be thoughtful. Figured that you needed to have something of your own."

It wasn't every day that Lucius Malfoy was stunned into silence. For a brief moment, Hermione actually thought that he was appreciative of what she had done. She quickly realized that she was wrong, however, when his eyes narrowed and he raised his head straight in haughty derision.

"Something of my own?" He repeated. "I recall that I did have something of my own and you took it so that it could be overrun with orphaned children."

Draco snapped his head up. "Mother gave the Manor to her. She didn't take anything from you."

Lucius huffed in his son's direction. "Of course, you wouldn't see it that way. You've lost nothing. Not your home. Not your finances. Not your reputation. Not-"

"Don't you dare pretend to understand what I've lost," Draco cut him off with a harsh snarl. Lucius, knowing full well of those losses by way of his wife, understood. Instead of continuing then, Lucius cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have. And yet you have moved on. Am I supposed to do the same so quickly? Am I supposed to be thrilled that a physical representation of my demise wears my family name? And to top it all off, broke tradition and included half-bloods and an adoptee to our family tapestry? I should think not."

Narcissa gasped. "Lucius!" She frantically turned to Hermione as she pleaded, "I am so-"

"There's no need to be sorry on his behalf," Hermione said as she removed the napkin from her lap and set it on her dinner plate. She let her angered glare settle on Lucius before saying, "You're right. None of us can expect you to adjust so easily, if at all. And as you've just insinuated, you're never going to change. Narcissa," she readdressed, "I do apologize, but I think I'll be going home now to the physical representation of your half-blood descendents," she added for Lucius' benefit, "and relieve our babysitter."

Hermione gave Draco a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before getting up and leaving the dining room. The front door slamming soon after was deafening.

"Well, thank you for dinner, darling," Lucius said as he wiped the corners of his mouth. "It was lovely."

Lucius leaned over and kissed his crestfallen wife on the cheek before rising from the table and leaving the room. Draco's eyes had never left him. Not once. And he, too, got up from the table and followed his father all the while ignoring his mother's call.

Draco found him in one of the lounges. He was sitting down on one of the armchairs, eyes closed, and massaging his temples. The man tensed when he heard noise at the door.

"Narcissa, I know that you must want to discuss what happened over dinner, but I don't."

"You don't have a choice."

Lucius removed his hand from his face and looked up. "Draco. I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Well, I wish I could say that I wasn't expecting dinner to be a catastrophe tonight, but I was. And even then I'm astounded. How could you say those things to her?"

"I merely said the truth. What did you want me to do? Lie?"

"Anything would've been better than what you said. Actually, it would've been even better if you had stayed in Azkaban."

Lucius didn't react. He stared at his son, pursed his lips, and muttered a soft, "Hmm. Is that what you really wish?"

"Yes," Draco replied with a sneer. "It was so much easier when you were gone to forget that you existed. To forget how you fucked up my life."

A memory twinged at Narcissa saying something to that effect once before. Although he had never pried before, he supposed now was the time to root out the matter.

"Is that so?" Lucius questioned. "And exactly how did I do that?"

Draco's eyes widened at his question. They grew even more as he watched his father get up from his chair and walk over to the minibar as though this was a friendly chat.

"You let me get branded," he said at his back.

"You wanted it," Lucius replied without turning. Ice tinkled as cubes hit the glass and each sound was a shattering cry to Draco's ears. "You were fighting for the cause."

Draco snorted. "Barely. Do you remember what my task was? I had to kill Albus Dumbledore of all people. I was terrified! Scared out of my mind and you did nothing to take it away!"

"Ah, I see now," the elder Malfoy sighed. He was rummaging through the minibar's cabinets to look for the best liquor. "It's not my 'letting you' become a Deatheater that bothers you. Apparently, my parenting skills are up for question?"

"You're damn right they're up for question!" Draco shouted. "I visited you in Azkaban, shaken to the core about what I had to do, and what did you tell me? You said, 'You have to protect the family, Draco.' 'We'll die if you don't do this, Draco.' What kind of father says that to a petrified kid? What kind of father lets their kid go through any of that while said father stands in the background turning into a crippled mess? A father is supposed to be the one taking care of his family, but not you. I took the brunt of it all. You made me a man when I was a boy and that was not okay."

"Is that all?"

Draco stammered. "What? No, that's not all! And damn it, stop fixing drinks and bloody argue back!"

"Why?" Lucius asked simply. His short glass of firewhiskey was finally prepared and he neatly caressed it in his hand. "Clearly, you have much more to say than I do."

Draco faltered for a moment. But only for that moment. He was shaking with so much rage that it physically hurt. His throat, to be precise, as he yelled at the top of his lungs, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! YOU HAVE PLENTY TO SAY! PLENTY TO ANSWER FOR! LIKE WHY YOU WERE SUCH A SHITTY FATHER!"

In all his life, Draco had never once yelled at his father. Despite the novelty of it, Lucius didn't blink. He didn't flinch. He showed no reaction at such the strong accusation his son had just bellowed at him. Instead, he replied in a calm, unfazed manner,

"What then, Draco, did you want me to do that would have made me less of a, to use your words, 'shitty father?'"

"HELP ME!" Draco shouted. His chest heaved with the remnants of his anger, but it was quickly ebbing away. Rather than angry, he felt embarrassed. His eyes were just as raw as his throat and he dreaded to know if his cheeks were streaked. He couldn't tell. His face, and entire body, was numb. "You were supposed to help me."

Lucius had finished his drink. He stood silently for several agonizing seconds, glass in hand, contemplating the level of drunk he wished he could be to continue on with this verbal spat. Instead he answered his son.

"Help was not an option."

Lucius set down his glass before returning to his armchair.

"You're right, son. A father is supposed to protect the family. I so happened to fail in that regard. A failure in the Dark Lord's tasks. Thrown into Azkaban when you were fifteen. A decrepit man and utterly useless as our home was overrun by the Dark Lord and the rest of the Deatheaters.

'What you have to understand is that I thought he would win, Draco. Malfoys align themselves with those who can get them far, and it helped very much that the Dark Lord held the same beliefs as I did. Had things worked out I doubt very much that we would be having this conversation. In fact, I'm sure that you would've been proud, not to mention attached at the hip to a pureblood witch.

'But you're not, and he didn't win, and this conversation stands." Lucius sighed and glanced off to the side as he continued. "My actions to get and keep our family at the top were foiled, and now I'm the unfit father who let his son go down the path of long-lasting trauma, remorse, depression, and, quite obviously, hatred of and resentment for me.

'All I wanted was the best for you and your mother. I didn't care how."

The corners of Draco's mouth were salty. He stared at his father, unblinking, and bit the inside of his jaw. "That was a shit way to go about taking care of us."

Lucius looked back at him. "So you've made painfully aware. Have you gotten your tantrum out now?"

Draco swallowed. He stared at the man who still made his blood boil. Who spoke so nonchalantly as his son screamed at him. Who called his rage a tantrum.

"Yes, but it changes nothing."

Replies to guests:

Guest: Marathon read! That's a lot to read lol. Thank you! You're hoping that they patch things up after a couple of fights. Well, there goes the first fight!

Author's note: SO! A massive rant is down below lol. If you're patient enough to read it I would greatly appreciate it. On another note, I haven't written the end yet, and depending on how my imagination goes, this fic will either end on the next chapter or on 64. Just wanted to throw that out so you're not blind-sighted in case it ends up being the next one. Now the rant follows...

The dinner scene breaks down just a bit of how Lucius feels/elaborates on what he asked Narcissa at the end of chapter 59: "Why doesn't it bother you that everything we worked for has been taken away?" For Lucius, Hermione is more than just the muggleborn who married his pureblood son and gave him half-blood grandchildren. She represents and has initiated everything contrary to what he wanted for his/his family's life. A lost war. The Malfoy line "tainted." His family home "gone." No money or assets to his name since it's all in Narcissa's and Draco's now. And of money that he does has? Created by muggle stock. He has nothing that belongs to him if you really think about it. Nothing that he can say, "I did that." Now, not to excuse ANY of Lucius' actions or words, I think to come out of Azkaban after twenty years and have this sort of realization truly hit you, Lucius is off-balanced, unnerved, and his pride and confidence ripped to shreds.

Now, time for a fun fact: I had the fight between Draco and Lucius written for a little over half a year. Everything, from the tiniest to the biggest forms of tension, has been building up to this eruption between father and son. I love that scene more than anything in this story because it shows two very drastic sides. You have Draco, unleashing everything he's got (his anger, sadness, regret, etc.) and Lucius...just being Lucius. He has a very "unresponsive" way of responding and that infuriates Draco beyond belief.

For a brief moment, I had written Lucius arguing back, but immediately got rid of it. What prompted that (and the fight in general) had been a Facebook post that I saw a very long time ago related to Lucius not being as cold and emotionless towards Draco as its led to believe. I think that's true. People vary in a lot of ways, and sometimes two people clash. For Lucius, I think his way of showing love and care for Draco (and anyone) is not the kind of emotional expression everyone can respond to. In the fight, no Lucius isn't screaming. He's not even (obviously) angry or upset. BUT he still listens. He heard and internalized everything Draco had said and answered him. He gave his reasoning for his actions and that was that. Straight to the point. Can we move on now? For him, that was closure. For Draco, it definitely wasn't. Draco wanted more. He needed more. However, and quite sadly, he gives up without trying to get it and accepts that that is all his father is going to give him.

That scene...is quite precious to me, and it can speak volumes if you're just willing to read between the lines.

-WP