Disclaimer: No tengo justos para Harry Potter. Not sure if that's how you say, I have no rights/laws for Harry Potter. If not, oh well, the point is still the same.

A/N: So, clearing a couple of things up that I meant to put in the last chapter. If people were wondering about Draco's character, I never really considered his behavior OOCish. I kind of figured it as him growing up, experiencing love, true love, for the first time. Oh, and also the sandwich thing . . . yeah, your author has never been an experienced mathematician, thus my silly little mistake regarding the number of sandwiches. Math and I are simply passing acquaintances. Anyway, I'm glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter. I'm afraid to say this will be coming to an end soon, my all time favorite story. Enjoy.

Two days later, Draco sat in Harry's office much like Ron had all those months ago, laying back on the couch with his hands over his face. In short, he was appalled and embarrassed by his behavior at the boys' birthday party. That night, he didn't get a wink of sleep, switching from pacing around his bedroom to sitting on the bed to walking around the entire mansion, trying to force himself out of his insomnia. But nothing worked, not even his favorite cup of tea.

Part of him told himself that he should regret his proposal, if you could even call it that, to Hermione but he couldn't. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of however long with her and the boys. He really did love her, he realized, though the thought scared him. To actually admit it was a terrifying thing.

He had, surprisingly, told Harry that much as soon as Harry had opened the door to his office. Now Harry sat across from where Draco lie, his elbows on his knees and his head propped up on his hands.

"Well, while I'll admit your . . . proposal was probably a bit . . . unorthodox," Harry said, a slight smile on his face, "I'll also admit it wasn't unexpected."

Draco lifted his hands from his face to look at Harry. "What?"

"Come on, Draco. Do you really think it was hard to notice that you were falling for Hermione? It was the way you looked at her, the way you spoke to her, your presence at her house everyday even if you said you were just there to see they boys. Those things weren't oblivious. Hell, even Ron noticed, and yes he's my best friend but he's particularly blind to this kind of thing."

"Great, so I'm obvious. That's nice to know. So, can you give me advice then? Because I haven't a clue what to do now."

"Well, do you really want to marry her?"

"I'm . . . I don't know. I – I want to, I really do. . . . But I'm not sure I can give her, or the boys, what they need."

"Oh I can help you with that easy. The boys just want a dad, someone to hang out with. Sure, they love Hermione, but to a boy, a dad is someone who has to be there, help them get through those awkward teenage stages. And Hermione . . . all Hermione wants is what every woman wants at some point . . . to be loved. She's a simple girl, Hermione, with simple needs. All you really need to do is be there. But Draco?" Harry added, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "If I find out you hurt her, I'll use every single jinx, hex, and curse that I know about on you without hesitation."

Draco smirked, sitting up. "I'll take you for your word on that, Harry."

Draco Apparated in front of Hermione's house, not really caring if the Muggles saw him. He didn't really have a clue at all what he wanted to say, which would explain why he stood outside the door for close to an hour. Taking a deep breath and mentally berating himself for not having a backbone, he knocked on the door.

It opened quickly, as if she had been standing there waiting for someone to knock. Hermione looked frazzled, her eyes slightly bloodshot, as if she hadn't been sleeping either and her hair was as wild as it had been when it was long. But Draco didn't believe he'd ever seen anyone so beautiful.

"Hey," Draco said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hello," Hermione said. She hesitated, stepping aside slightly. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure." He stepped into the house closing the door behind him. It was quiet, he realized. "Where are the boys?"

"Still at Daycare. Ron's going to pick them up for me."

"Oh." Draco ran his hand through his hair. "Um, look Hermione, I – what happened Saturday – I didn't – it didn't mean –"

"Don't," Hermione said. Draco finally looked at her. She wore a blank expression but Draco could see the hurt in her eyes. "Don't tell me it didn't mean anything, okay? I've heard that story too many times, from you Draco, and I'm pretty tired of it. If it didn't mean anything than you shouldn't be here. If it didn't mean anything than it doesn't matter."

She started to walk away from him but he reached forward and grabbed her arm. "If it did matter would you say yes?" Draco said, frantically.

Hermione looked back at him. "What?"

"What if it did matter, Hermione? What if everything we've ever done together mattered? The very first time I kissed you, the . . . thing that resulted in our two beautiful little boys, my proposal. . . . What if it mattered that I told you that I can't stop thinking about you, about your face and your voice and for the longest time I've wanted to kiss you again. If I said that all of that mattered to me, that all of that meant something, would you say yes?"

Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears, a shocked expression on her face. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, pulling her arm away from his grasp. "No," she said, a stray tear falling down her cheek.

Draco took a step back, a slight pain in his chest. This was not how he had thought it would happen. "Oh . . . all right then."

He headed back towards the door, trying to keep his emotions under control. He opened the door and turned back to her. "Goodbye, Hermione."

He walked out, closing the door behind him. For a moment he thought he might have heard her call his name, but he didn't turn around.