[A/N: More of an FYI: the timeline of events during the war is the same as in the books, so the Battle of Hogwarts took place in May 1998. Another FYI: marriages for wizards seem to take place quite early in life (see Lily and James, and probably Arthur and Molly, if you consider how old Bill is), so an arranged marriage at Draco's age (17, almost 18) wouldn't be too out of place.

Thanks for the phenomenal response to the first 3 chapters, keep all the reviews coming! I've managed to write three chapters in three days including this one, which is unprecedented, but I'm really enjoying writing this story. I'm going to see Catching Fire with one of my best friends today, so I won't be able to write finish off chapter 5, but expect it very soon. Hope you enjoy!]

Chapter 4:

Again

It was well past Alec's bedtime by the time mother and son reached the Granger home. It was exactly how Hermione remembered it. A slim, detached house with two floors and an attic, with pale blue curtains in the windows. The formerly tame garden was unruly and almost sinister looking in the darkness, but it was home and Hermione felt safe. Unlocking the door with difficulty, as a heavy Alec was perched on one hip, snuggling into her shoulder, she almost tripped over the small mound of letters inside the door.

Although she'd enlisted her muggle neighbours to collect any remaining letters from the letterbox and forward them, Hermione had forgotten that she might receive mail by owl. There looked to be, in the dimly lit hall, at least a hundred small letters. Walking into the house and flipping on lights, the formerly dark home grew more and more familiar as the light bulbs warmed, glowing brighter.

Gingerly placing Alec on the bed in her childhood room, across from the living room, Hermione set out to investigate how the house had fared in five years. She'd placed up wards so no unwelcome visitors would rob the place, but weather was a whole other issue. The house wasn't too old, but water damage and resulting mould would be an annoyance with which Hermione did not want to deal.

The house was silent but for Alec's muffled sleeping noises (the occasional groan and sigh) as Hermione climbed the stairs. After the war, and before she left for Australia, she had slept in the spare room on the first floor. It was more practical, after all, as it had a queen-sized bed, and Dr—Malfoy had spent almost every night with her there until… until a week before she left.

Her parents' room looked the same, empty dresser with one draw stuck slightly open, as it had been for the last fifteen years. On the white wrought-iron bed lay a dusty mattress. The small window was shrouded in heavy lace curtains. The room looked wholly impersonal, just like it ought if it hadn't been occupied in five years.

Whereas the door to her parents' room had been shut, the spare room's door was ajar. Taking out her wand, although doubting that the room would have an occupant, Hermione pushed it open completely, flipped on the light, and gasped.

It was an absolute mess. The cheap rocking chair that Draco had bought Hermione to read in resembled more a pile of firewood than something on which to sit. A vase, once containing flowers, had been smashed against the wall; there was a faint water stain on the off-white wall, and dead flowers and pieces of ceramic littered the grey carpet. What broke her heart most was the one flower that did not lie in tatters on the floor. Although it was dead and brown, Hermione knew exactly what colour the rose had once been. A single white rose had been placed on the bed.

As memories resurfaced, Hermione sank to the ground just inside the door and sobbed.

After crying for a good half hour, Hermione had cleaned up the mess with her wand, switched out the light and climbed into bed, drifting into a deep sleep.

In the morning, Hermione felt refreshed. She felt better. That was all in the past. First things first, she was going to get a new job. Then, Hermione was going to earn enough money that she could buy a house for Alec and herself. They would go to the Burrow on Sundays for lunch, and have holidays in Australia with the Grangers. Alec would soon go to primary school, and eventually on to Hogwarts.

Shutting the door to the spare room and, effectively, her memories of it, Hermione made her way downstairs. Trying to locate the small fridge in her handbag was difficult, as things had shifted slightly in the last day. The extension charm was wearing off and the bag was slightly more crowded that it had been the morning before. Finally locating the fridge next to her collection of muggle novels, she rummaged carefully, pulling out a carton of eggs, some milk, butter, bread, and bacon. It took a little longer to locate knives, forks, plates and a fry-pan, but, thirty minutes later, Alec emerged from his room, sniffing the air.

"What's for breakfast?" He asked, adding, hopefully, "Bacon?"

Hermione laughed, setting two full plates on the table, "And eggs."

The pair ate in relative silence, the only noises coming from outside and the clinking of their knives and forks on the china plates.

Several hours later, Alec and Hermione were both settled in, their possessions strewn comfortably across the house. Instead of returning to the spare room, Hermione had cleaned up her parents' old, dusty one with industrial strength cleaning charms. Putting on her own sheets and pillows from her bag, Hermione was much more comfortable here than in the other room. Similarly, Alec had elected to move into the attic rather than Hermione's girly childhood room. There was a single bed up there, in case relatives came to stay back when Hermione was a child.

Ginny knocked on the door at half-twelve and asked the pair to lunch with her and James. Hungry, since Hermione's bag-fridge was basically empty, they readily agreed, and the quartet set forth to Diagon Alley.

The last time Hermione had been to Diagon Alley was in the summer after her sixth year at Hogwarts. The street was basically destroyed; shops were gutted and the thoroughfare was empty of people. Now, it was bright, restored and bustling, despite the wintry chill in the air.

Ginny mumbled something to Hermione about a new toy for James and a quick stop into the Quidditch shop. Alec begged to go with them and, before Hermione knew it, she was standing alone in the street, having been promised that they would meet her at Flourish and Blotts in twenty-five minutes.

Hermione grinned. Twenty-five minutes of solo book shopping.

Her bliss lasted nineteen. Nineteen minutes after she entered the shop, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"Twice in two days, Granger, that's a rarity. And here I thought I wouldn't see you for another five years."

Malfoy's tone was more biting than it had been the day before and, when she turned around, Hermione could swear that his eyes were snarling at her.

"I could say the same to you, Malfoy. Although I didn't think it, I hoped that I wouldn't see you for another five years," Hermione snapped. Putting on a polite smile, as if unfazed by his presence, she added, "Did you enjoy the party?"

He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. When he smirked, Hermione knew he'd settled on lying. Draco had once told her the truth about his sneers and smirks. A sneer was when he felt powerless, overcompensating, pushing others down to make himself feel better. A smirk, however, was when he was unsure of himself, of how he felt, of what he was doing. A smirk said a lot about Draco. He had no idea how to act, so he tried to appear confident. The smirk twitched, "Very much. Although I was disappointed not to meet your significant other."

"I haven't got a significant other, as I believe I told you yesterday."

"No, you said you didn't have a husband."

"Well, I don't have one of either," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. We're not engaged. You never asked me. She wanted to scream at him. Something. But she said nothing else.

"Alec is a nice name," Draco smirked. "Short for Alexander?"

"Yes," she retorted. Absentmindedly running a hand over the books beside her, Hermione grimaced slightly, "I forgot to ask, how's your wife?"

He stepped back, stunned, "My wife?"

"Yes, your wife."

"I'm not married."

Hermione blinked several times, digesting the information. As they stared at each other uncomprehendingly, Ginny raced up with the two children and several bags in tow, apologising profusely.

"I know! I'm late!" She stopped and checked her watch, "Actually, I'm early. How did that happen?"

Hermione looked to her friend helplessly.

"What's wrong? I'm not late," Ginny said, finally noticing Draco and nodding in greeting. "Did you enjoy yourself yesterday? I'm sorry you were stuck with the children for a while, but it looked like everyone was having fun. If only Astoria could have come with you, then you might have been able to talk more with the adults. I hope she can come to our next party. Alec just told me that his birthday is in a few weeks, and I'm sure Mum will want to throw a big party. Five years old!"

She grinned at Alec, who was looking up at Draco in awe. Clearly he'd enjoyed his first flying lesson. Hermione, however, looked stricken and pale. Malfoy wasn't looking at Alec or Ginny, but to the wavering woman in front of him. He reached out a hand, before realising what he was doing, and dropped it back to his side. Instead, he asked, "Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione nodded, grabbed Ginny's arm and left the shop along with the two children.

Draco Malfoy was left standing alone, and upset, for the second time in two days.

Ginny decided that they would forgo a public lunch and instead the group apparated to an alley near the closest muggle supermarket to the Granger home. An hour later, lunch eaten, Ginny and Hermione sat at the kitchen table as Alec and James played in the living room.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" Ginny asked, broaching the subject. Hermione hadn't said a word, scaring Ginny and Alec, until they'd reached the Granger home after shopping.

"I... don't exactly get along with Malfoy," Hermione said. "We came to be very good friends during the last months of the war and then some things happened, and we no longer get along very well."

Ginny nodded. They'd all grown closer to Draco at that time, having spent so much time together. However, Harry and Ron were still quite good friends with the man, as Hermione clearly was not. If they were, in fact, friends.

"Hermione, I'm only going to ask this once, and if you say no, or don't want to respond, that's fine, but... is Draco Alec's father?"

She jerked her head once, in assent, before burying her head in her hands.

"What... what happened between you?" Ginny demanded, serious but hesitant to hurt her friend.

"We dated. For almost a year," Hermione sniffled. She wasn't crying but she could feel the tears in her eyes, waiting to flow.

Her friend frowned. A year? "No, I mean, why did it end?"

Two Days After The Battle of Hogwarts

By 1 o'clock in the afternoon, Hermione had cleaned the house, re-read Pygmalion, alphabetised her books and started making a cake. She'd tried to keep herself busy, although she continually found herself looking out the window, hoping to see Draco materialise in front of her gate. But by 1, she'd finished her chores, finished her mindless tasks, and the orange and poppyseed cake was in the oven. She was actively waiting, sitting, not reading A Detailed History of The Giant Rights Movement, however much she wished she could.

By 2 o'clock, the cake was cold enough to ice, and Hermione took her time doing it. She added some shavings of orange rind, and was pleased with the overall appearance. More often than not, her cakes stuck to the pan, or the icing dripped off, but this one was perfect. She couldn't wait to show Draco.

He still hadn't arrived. Hermione had left a window open, as it was mild outside and if Draco sent her an owl, it wouldn't crash into something like Ron's always did. But half an hour later, nothing had arrived. There was no gorgeous man complimenting her cake-baking skills, kissing the icing off her nose. There was no Draco wrapping her in his arms and telling her that he loved her and it was all over with Astoria, even if it had been nothing, as he said it was.

But by 3 o'clock, Hermione was distressed. What if something had happened to him? What if he'd been hexed, or injured, or imprisoned by the Greengrasses? No, they were manipulative, but they weren't stupid. He was fine. He was coming. Maybe he was delayed by something... his mother might have pressed him to take her for afternoon tea, or he may have run into Harry and Ron.

As the clock ticked closer and closer to 5, however, Hermione was close to giving up hope. It wasn't as if she was the kind of woman to sit around and wait for a man anyway! But she loved him and, until the day before, had trusted him completely. He would come. He would.

Surprisingly, the night passed in a blur for Hermione. She sat in an armchair for hours, almost in a trance, before dozing off. She was awoken the next morning by the arrival of the Daily Prophet.

The front page read: 'Malfoy and Greengrass to Marry!' Accompanying the article was a large, moving image of Draco-her Draco-kissing Astoria passionately. Hermione, unbelieving, began to skim the short paragraph, penned not by the forever-incorrect Rita Skeeter, but by Padma Patil.

In a surprising move, Draco Malfoy, 17, and Astoria Greengrass, 16, last night announced their engagement. In the wake of the war, and the youngest Malfoy's position in the Order, the general wizarding population believed he would steer clear of an old pureblood family when choosing a wife. However, last night, at a large party thrown by Narcissa Malfoy, née Black, the pair shone with happiness. The loving looks and numerous kisses shared by the couple last night demonstrate one thing: this is clearly a love match. Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

Only then, looking again at the embracing couple on the front page of the paper, did Hermione give up hope that he would still come.