And so ends this tale. For the record, I'm issuing a blanket statement regarding Hermione's characterization in this story: She's not entirely powerless (hello? She's a powerful witch in her own right), but bigger fish are always showing up in life - and her daughter just happens to be one. That's how I wanted it and I won't say I'm sorry about it. If you don't like that dynamic, then maybe you should read a different story. I'm not trying to be a bitch about it, honestly. Some reviewers were very critical about how I made Hermione 'powerless' in this fic, which couldn't be further from the truth. To admit to someone that they do not have the skill to deal with something is very powerful in its own right - and very wise. No one has all the answers, and this includes Hermione. As usual, JK Rowling owns it all, I just play her sandbox from time to time and make no money from it.

Sitting in the middle of an enormous room, Rose and Draco faced each other while resting on their knees, eyes closed in meditation. The chamber was bare except for a padded floor and intricately carved oak scrolls lining the walls. Though there were no windows, there seemed to be a soft ambient light, filling the area enough to provide clarity but not distraction.

To Hermione, it was the epitome of a Muggle Dojo, complete down to the judogis both students wore. Rose's judogi was white and fastened with a red cloth belt, her long thick hair tied into a ponytail to keep it out of her face while she trained. Draco's was a sage green, fitting somewhat loosely around his chest, but shaped to his long thighs and muscular backside.

Hermione looked away quickly, cheeks blossoming with twin spots of crimson, as she cringed in mortification at the possibility of being caught ogling Draco Malfoy's bum. She knew, of course, that Draco wasn't paying any attention to her, but – since she was sitting right next to Lucius – she hoped the older Malfoy hadn't noticed.

Oh, but he had! The miserable Slytherin.

Out of the corner of her vision, she watched as his eye twitched and his jaw ticked, and she wondered –not for the first time – what was the underlying purpose to all of his igenerosity/i. Propped in an old-fashioned wicker Muggle wheelchair, he'd observed each training session with the two elementals, just as she had, for the past three weeks. There had been a respite for the Christmas holiday, but, as the end of the year fast approached, Hermione could already visibly see the changes in Rose's behaviour and attitude from being under Draco's tutelage. It gave her great pause several times to realize that her only child was being taught self-control by a man who had tormented her during her own childhood. It was ironic in the extreme, but she didn't question it too much, as the lessons helped Rose significantly with focusing her magic.

There was also the growing attraction to the younger Malfoy that she really didn't want to contemplate, at least not too closely, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist introspection. During the sessions, Draco always made it a point to speak with her regarding Rose's progress and what she was expected to work on for their next lesson. She'd even begun looking forward to her daughter's classes as much as Rose did, her breath stolen once or twice when Draco brushed against her as he was explaining a particular discipline.

Whether he felt the same or not, she couldn't absolutely say for certain. There had been a moment or two during the past three weeks where she thought he was about to kiss her, but guilt crept into his eyes each time and he'd backed away with a sad smile. She didn't know how to process her own feelings so his actions just confused her more. One thing was evident though: they both swayed towards each other whenever they were in close proximity, as was noted by Rose more than once. The first few times Rose mentioned it, she sprung apart from him, flushed with embarrassment. As the weeks passed, however, she was more inclined to linger, inching even closer… and so did he.

That's what was so confusing. His reaction to her presence looked like it pained and delighted him in the same instance. And why did a guilt-ridden expression haunt his eyes every time he looked at her? Was he imbuing his teaching methods with some underlying evil intent that she didn't recognize and therefore felt responsible when Rose didn't achieve the expected success during a lesson? She discarded that thought immediately, as Draco had insisted she be present for all training in case she felt uncomfortable with his techniques or routines, able to put a halt to the class if she deemed it necessary.

Lucius was another matter, though. Was he hoping to groom Rose and use her powers for himself? Clenching her fists at the horrible thought, she inhaled deeply. Over her dead body.

"My dear," Lucius drawled. "If you stare any harder at my person, you'll burn what's left of my decrepit body." He'd never removed his gaze from the perfectly still duo in the middle of the room as he spoke.

Instead of bandying about the bush, Hermione blatantly confronted him. "How did you know Rose was an elemental?"

His low chuckle warmed her, oddly. "You give me far too much credit, you know." He glanced at her then returned his attention to their offspring. "I had a hunch, if you will – a feeling while listening to her speak on the radio about finding a suitable husband for you." He shifted his legs underneath the heavy blanket lying across his lap. "I confirmed my suspicions during her first visit, and observed her power firsthand."

"What do you want with her?" Hermione asked in a faintly menacing tone.

Looking genuinely confused, Lucius turned and frowned at her. "I can assure you, I have no designs on your daughter, Mrs. Weasley."

Crossing her arms, she arched a brow. "You're not altruistic, Lucius, so don't play innocent. What is going on here?"

A slight sneer curled the left side of his lip. "I'm surprised you've held your tongue until now."

She gestured to the man and girl sitting on the floor. "I agree with your initial assessment – they are good for each other. In fact, she has more grasp on her powers than she ever did in the whole of her life so far, and I am indebted to your son for guiding her. But my gratitude towards Draco has nothing to do with his father's machinations, and I believe he has no clue as to your true intentions when you first sent me that letter." Her voice was flat.

Grabbing the metal wheel rims of the chair, Lucius propelled himself until he was turned around and facing her. "You witnessed Miss Greengrass' contempt for those she believes are lower in station than her charming self, correct?"

Hermione nodded hesitantly, unable to forget the ugly, hateful words the blonde had spewed forth that day.

"I knew, as did Draco, that any children from his issue would be elementals," he explained, his fist gripping the armrest until his knuckles were white. "I love my family, Mrs. Weasley, and I'll be damned if I'll let some chit who is a brainless slag decide the fate of my grandchildren!"

"But what does that—"

"Use your Merlin-given powers, Granger, and think beyond the moment for once. Think why you are here!"

Her jaw snapped shut at Lucius' vehemence and use of her maiden surname. Seeing his passionate desperation, she focused on the breadth and scope of his purposed alternative to Astoria Greengrass. When she finally came to a highly doubtful conclusion, she shook her head and scoffed. "No."

Wheeling closer, Lucius took her hand and held it tightly. "Please," he implored.

"Why? You don't even like Muggle-borns!"

Squeezing her fingers, he lowered his head. "Because of Muggle science, I'm still alive today," he murmured softly. "In my quest to find the answer to why Muggle medicine worked when magic did not, I came across several studies regarding genetics and…" He swallowed audibly, as if tasting a foul thing that was forced upon him. "Inbreeding. I soon realized that it was only a matter of generations before mutations would begin appearing in the Malfoy line, and to prevent that from happening, new blood must be introduced into the scheme of things.

"I see the product of a pure-blood and a Muggle-born union before me, and I am amazed," he added with some reverence, pointing to Rose. "If she is this powerful now, imagine what she'll be like in a few years time… or what yours and Draco's children would amount to."

"You want me as nothing more than a broodmare and Draco a prized stud!" She tried to withdraw her hand, but he kept it firmly within his grasp.

"No!" Lucius hissed angrily. Letting go of her hands, he cupped her cheeks to prevent her from looking elsewhere. "I know my time is limited on this plane, and I want to make sure that Draco is cared for before I leave. I know you're capable of it, Hermione." His eyes searched hers. "I heard how you ached for your husband, and I want that kind of love for my son."

"I can't," she whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes. "Draco doesn't love me."

"Did your husband love you in the beginning, throughout your school years?" he challenged, unwilling to back down.

Shaking her head, she recalled all the fights they'd had, even when things seemed at their bleakest during the war. She knew Ron hadn't loved her beyond friendship until almost their seventh year, but it never stopped her from loving him, protecting him, because she was strong enough to care for him that way until he caught up with her. Draco was another matter altogether.

"Give him a chance, I beg of you."

"Mum, are you all right?" Rose asked with a frown as she stood behind Lucius' wheelchair. "You're crying."

Lucius immediately released Hermione's face and cleared his throat, straightening his robe. "She was a bit overwrought, dear, that's all."

Swiping the tears lingering on her lashes and cheeks, Hermione rose from her seat and held out her hand for her daughter. "I'm sorry, munchkin; we need to go for the day."

"But Mum, we're not—"

"Rose, do as your mother asks," Draco intoned heavily. "You must learn to accept the will of your master."

Rose looked over her shoulder at her mentor and rolled her eyes. "She's my mum, not my master."

Bending low, Draco tweaked her freckled nose and winked at her. "This makes her even more important than your master, so do as she says."

Laughing lightly, Rose bowed at the waist in respect, then turned and took her mother's hand. "See you tomorrow, Draco!"

"Incorrigible," he mused with a shake of his head. He raised his eyes to Hermione's, a slight frown marring his brow. "Tomorrow then?"

Stepping away from the Malfoy men, she smiled hesitantly. "Of course." With a nod, she and Rose slipped out of the room.

Draco pursed his lips in irritation. "Must you upset her?"

"Does it matter?" Lucius drawled.

Glancing to his father, Draco glowered. "Actually, yes, it does. Rose feels it and it throws her concentration off."

Lucius arched a brow. "Is that the only reason?"

"I feel it, too," Draco mumbled.

"Because you're an elemental? I admit that being a water elemental, you're more susceptible to others' emotions."

"Because I'm a man, and she's a woman!" his son ground out.

"Ah. Well, she is quite tempting."

"Stop it, Father. Whatever you're doing or planning, just…" Draco threw his hands in the air. "Please don't, for Rose's sake."

"You should invite them to spend New Year's Eve with us," Lucius suggested, ignoring his son's plea. "We're not having a gala this year and I'm sure she and Rose would appreciate the company. I know I would."

Threading his nimble fingers through his hair, Draco sighed. "Fine, I'll think about it."

"There's a good lad." Smiling, Lucius excused himself and wheeled out the door.

Unable to contain his suppressed emotions any longer, Draco turned to face the room and roared, shoving a massive burst of magic towards the opposite wall, cracking one of the oak scrolls. Panting, he dropped to the floor and hung his head, clutching at the frazzled blond strands.

It wasn't that he knew his father was meddling with Hermione's feelings, even though it bothered him with increasing intensity. Nor was it the fact that he knew Lucius was trying to manipulate him, too. It was the fact that he'd heard everything they'd said, and though he loathed admitting it, his father was right.

Regardless of the fact that he did, indeed, care for her… a great deal.

~*~

"Welcome to the New Year's Eve edition of Love Be Good!" Luna announced to her audience.

"Oh, good!" Rose clapped enthusiastically. "Auntie Luna's on!"

"Pay attention, Rose, or Draco will take all your Ice Mice and Chocolate Frogs," Hermione admonished her daughter, tapping on the cards in her small hands.

"Considering she already has my bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans, I say that's highly unlikely," Draco countered, frowning at his own cards. "Why don't the kings and queens move, at least?" he groused.

"It's Muggle Poker, Draco," Rose said as if he should've known. "But I bet if they did, they'd tell you how to cheat," she giggled.

"Rose…" her mother warned.

"What?" the girl asked innocently.

"Whom shall I hit this time?" Lucius asked, pleasantly amused to be dealing the cards and learning the slang terms that accompanied the game.

"Instead of having a guest this evening, I've decided I want to play sentimental love songs that tend to make the world go around," Luna sighed dreamily. "It's a perfect time to reconnect with our friends and family, and remember loved ones long gone. So, to start off the night, here is Yiruma with 'If I Could See You Again'."

All Hermione could think was that she was going to kill Luna… a lot. Why did she have to get maudlin on a night like this? It was the eve of a new year for Merlin's sake! Clutching her cards tighter, she tried to will away the tumultuous feelings running rampant within her, making her heart ache and her vision blur. But, as the piano piece progressed, she knew it was only a matter of moments before she would lose it completely. Politely excusing herself, she blindly traversed the corridors until she reached a balcony with a door open to the frigid night air.

Grasping the stone ledge, she felt the scalding tears stream down her hot cheeks. Lifting her head, she scanned the starry heavens, searching for something unknown.

"I miss you so much, Ron," she whispered to the night.

A soft and gentle breeze, warm with spicy scents drifted across her shoulders. "I miss you, too, `Mione."

Startled, she whirled around to see a translucent figure standing near the deepest shadows, smiling lopsidedly. "Ron?" she gasped.

"Hey you."

"Ron?" she sobbed, quickly walking to where he stood.

"Wait—"

But she hadn't heard his words until it was too late. In a desperate attempt to hold her beloved husband, she ran right through him, the stone wall the only thing stopping her.

"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her arm.

"Daft woman," he chided. "Just checking up on you."

"Oh, I see." She moved until she was in front of him, tears still shinning on her cheeks. "And how are things from your side?"

Ron beamed. "Rose is so lovely, `Mione. She'll beat everyone at Hogwarts and get top marks like her mum." He tilted his head and studied her. "You've done a right crack job with her."

"I hope so," she said softly. "She misses you. I miss you."

"I know you do, love," Ron smiled sadly. "And I you, but it's not good for Rosie, you being all alone like this."

"I don't know what else to do, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I don't think I can move on."

Leaning against the ledge, Ron crossed his ankles, peering at her. "Is this the same Hermione Jean Granger who told me everyone deserves a chance?"

Wrapping her arms around her middle to keep from falling apart, she shook her head. "I haven't been that girl in a long time."

"Well, I would hope not. I rather loved the woman she became, to be honest."

Chuckling through the tears, she nodded in agreement. "I'm still hopelessly devoted to lost causes though, just so you know."

He grinned. "Wouldn't want it any other way. That's how I knew you'd put up with me."

"Oh, Ron," she managed through trembling lips. "You were never a lost cause."

"I suppose. But then, neither is Draco," he admitted with a slight grimace.

"Draco?" she asked in confusion. "He's teaching Rose how to—"

"I know, `Mione," he laughed. "Omniscient ghost, remember?"

"Right." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to keep the chill at bay. "I thought I was giving him a chance by letting him tutor her."

"Ah, well, see… he's gone and done this really daft thing."

Her eyes widened in panic. "What? Has he hurt Rose?"

"What? No, woman!" he groused. "Doubt he's even capable of such a thing, with how much he adores her."

Now she was just getting irritated. "Just what has Draco done that is so daft, then?"

"Seems the bloke has fallen in like with you."

"In like?"

"It's a bit more than that, but you two aren't ready for that other word just yet."

"T-this isn't possible," she argued. "I don't care if you are omniscient; what you see isn't like or even remotely anything near love. He just broke it off with his fiancée three weeks ago, for Merlin's sake!"

"Didn't like her – nasty piece of work she was."

Rubbing her forehead, she closed her eyes. "That's the understatement of the year."

"Who're you talking to?"

"You, silly," she huffed, raising her eyelids only to see Draco standing by the door and watching her pensively.

He leaned against the jamb for a few moments, then stepped out onto the terrace draping his outer robes over her shoulders to stop her shaking.

"Thank you," she murmured, pulling the lapels around her. The heavy material brought with it a heady smell that could only be Draco himself.

"You're a fire elemental and you haven't cast a warming charm?" He moved off to where Ron had stood previously. "Why not?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I was distracted. Besides, I came out here to get a little air anyway." She sounded too defensive for her liking.

"Clear on the other side of the mansion?"

She looked at her surroundings, finally noticing that the structure was newer than the other wings she'd been in. "What is this area?"

"These were my mother's rooms," he said sombrely.

"Oh, God, Draco! I'm so sorry!" she apologized, placing her hand on his forearm. "I won't ever come here again, I swear." She moved to leave, but his hand over hers kept her from going far.

"Stay; it's all right, really." He didn't relinquish her graceful fingers and was secretly glad she allowed him the luxury. "I was more worried about the other stigma attached to them to be perfectly honest."

"Why?" She looked through the French doors. "What happened here?"

"This is where the fire broke out," he mumbled, staring at her face, waiting for it to fall.

"The one where Ron…"

Releasing her hand, he stepped away, unsure if his proximity to her would be welcome. "Yeah, that one."

A long silence filled the night as two hurting souls took stock of where their lives were headed in the coming year. After what seemed like hours, Hermione shifted closer to a shivering Draco, using her elemental magic to keep them both warm as they stared at the frost-covered grounds glinting in the moonlight.

"I think everyone was extraordinarily brave that day," she offered quietly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here," he confessed. "If I had been, then maybe…" He held up his hands in supplication, apologizing for something beyond his control.

Placing her hands over his, she lowered them, shaking her head. "It's okay, Draco. It does no one any good to dwell on things you cannot change and the iwhat ifs/i will erode at your mind until nothing is left."

"I suppose."

Tilting her head to look at him, she studied his pinched features. "Does your father blame you for Narcissa's death?"

Frowning, he shook his head. "No. If anything, he blames himself for not being here when she decided to…" He shrugged. "Well, needless to say, she'd been very ill for a long time."

Nodding, she patted his arm. "Then why should I blame you? Sounds like there's enough of that going around to last an aeon or two."

"You're too forgiving by half, Hermione," he grumbled. "And here I was looking for people to add to my spiritual debt."

"Best find some other lackey, Draco Malfoy," she teased lightly, edging closer to him. "I hear Goyle is still quite the thug."

"Don't remind me," he growled. Hesitantly, he unfurled his left arm and hugged her even closer, closing his eyes in abandon when she didn't resist.

Content to stay like that, Hermione soon laid her head on his shoulder, sighing peacefully. "I take it Rose is entertaining Lucius?"

His body shook with repressed laughter. "When I came searching for you, she'd been reading him The Velveteen Rabbit. Judging by the odd shimmer in his eyes, I think she was bound and determined to make him cry."

"She does love to torture him, I must admit."

Draco laid his cheek against the top of her mahogany curls, nuzzling to feel the rich sable and exquisite scent. "He loves her, trust me," he whispered, no longer sure he was speaking about his father.

"Does he?" she asked a little breathlessly, her heart thundering against her ribcage.

Pressing a kiss to her crown, Draco swallowed hard. "You'll never find anyone more devoted."

Raising her head, she gazed into his fathomless gray eyes. "I'd never question a Malfoy's devotion."

He gave her a soft smile and began touching the planes of her face with his cold fingertips, marveling at how smooth and silky her skin was, even after all of these years. He then switched and ran the back of his knuckles down her blotchy cheek, fully aware she'd been crying when he'd found her earlier, and torn between wanting to make her pain go away and keeping his distance.

"Would that I could ease your suffering," he said so quietly she barely heard him.

Remembering Ron's words, she asked, "If you could bring him back, would you?"

A crestfallen look seeped into his eyes, but he nodded. "If I could have, I would've prevented any of this from happening."

"Even though it has brought you to this here and now?" she pressed.

Pulling away, he stared at her forlornly. "If it meant that you and Rose would've had a happy life, then yes."

"You know, you pretend to be selfish, cold, and distant, to keep others away, Draco."

Crossing his arms to keep his heart from breaking, he tried to sneer. "I pretend a lot of things. Gets me what I want."

"I know better," she countered, closing the distance between them. "You pretend not to care."

"I don't." He stepped back, but she followed him.

"You pretend to hate the fact that Rose looks up to you for guidance and simply adores you."

"She's impressionable and foolish." Another step backwards.

Hermione snorted, knowing Draco was utterly afraid that his only means of protection was denial. "You pretend to hate me. Have, for a while."

"I-I…" Full panic swept his features before halting his retreat. He stood there for several minutes just watching her. "That's not at all true," he whispered, finally. "What I pretend with you… it's not hatred."

This brought her full stop in front of him. "What then?"

He raised his hand to trace the air around her face as if it would be the last time he'd ever see her. "I pretend that you…"

She moved closer until his palm rested against her cheek. "That I?"

"I pretend that you care for me a fraction of what I care for you," he breathed, letting his thumb caress the shadow underneath her eye.

Suddenly, needing to hold him was tantamount to breathing, and Hermione closed the gap, wrapping her arms securely around him, squeezing tightly. "You shouldn't pretend anymore, you know," she muttered into his shirt.

Caught off guard with her actions, Draco indulged in the embrace. "And why's that?"

"Because reality is so much better than dreams." Standing on tiptoe, she cupped his cheek and pressed a warming kiss to his nearly-blue lips. "And standing out here much longer will result in frostbite of the non-imaginary variety."

"Is that so?" he murmured, nuzzling her nose, unwilling to depart just to avoid the chill.

"Very much." She returned his affection, laying her cheek against his. "And in reality, I can care for you a great deal more than if I was just a figment of your imagination."

He pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead. "That's a life I could live with."

As they moved to the door, fireworks and loud bangs could be heard for miles around, indicating to most of the world that another year had fled, only to be replaced by a brand new one.

Draco looked at his watch and confirmed that, yes, it'd just past midnight. "Happy New Year," he said with a brilliant smile, gracing her forehead with another kiss.

"It is, indeed," Hermione agreed and followed him into the manor.

"And so ends our program, gentle listeners," Luna said somewhat mournfully. "I do hope you've enjoyed our little musical repertoire, and if a few of you have sniffles due to a speck of dust in your eye, we'll understand. Remember; always choose your life's mate carefully, my friends. From this one decision will come ninety percent of all your happiness… or misery. Until next week, wizards and witches: the true measure of an individual is how he or she treats a person who can do him or her absolutely no good whatsoever."