So, since I have nothing else post-able at the moment, I thought I'd give you another chapter!

Chapter 11
Blaise was hunched over his cauldron when Draco entered the potions lab. Both Harry and Hermione had gone with him, but Draco would allow neither to enter the lab. It was his conversation to have, and he needed to do it alone. "Hey," he greeted Blaise, taking a seat on what he assumed to be his stool.

Blaise continued to stir his potion counterclockwise, never taking his eyes from it as he returned the salutation. When he finished, he extinguished the flame and turned to his friend. "Decided I'm worth talking to again?" he inquired.

"Something like that," Draco mumbled. He picked up a jar and examined its contents - lacewing flies. "Why am I friends with Potter? Hermione told me we don't hate each other anymore."

The Italian smirked. "So, she's Hermione now," he mused. "That didn't take long."

Draco scowled angrily. It seemed to take all he had to keep from hitting the man beside him, the one person who could potentially restore his old life. "I didn't really come here to talk about her," he replied, his teeth clenched as he tried to control his temper.

"But you wanted to discuss Potter," Blaise said.

Draco shrugged. "He is my wife's best friend," he muttered. "I should get to know him better."

"Well, Hermione's the reason the two of you became friends," Blaise told him. "Once the two of you started dating, you decided it was best to make amends with Potter. That's how much you loved her. The two of you go to Quidditch matches at least once a season. I think he even made you and Hermione godparents to his second born."

He thought he detected a hint of bitterness in the other man's voice, but Draco chose to ignore it. "Look, I'm sorry for the way I acted the day I came home," he said, praying he sounded sincere. "The whole thing was just...overwhelming."

"And the two weeks since you've been home?" Blaise wondered. Draco didn't answer. "I get that you needed time to adjust, but I'm still your best friend, Drake. I wanted to be there for you, but I kept getting told no. I think I deserve some kind of explanation."

"I already said I was sorry," Draco said. "What more do you want me to say?"

Blaise just shook his head, looking to forget about the conversation and continue his work. But Draco had other ideas. As Blaise worked, he asked question after question, hoping to get some idea about his friend's most recent project. His inquisitions got him nowhere but to learn that his experiment was confidential.

He was just about to leave when he stopped to watch Blaise once more. "Your lacewing flies have gone bad," he informed him. He left then, disappointed that he had learned nothing. He looked up and down the hall, not sure which way to go, when he saw Hermione waiting for him.

"Find out anything?" she asked when he reached her.

"Besides the fact that he's using expired ingredients?" he asked. "No, nothing. He didn't seem willing to talk about much besides the fact that I haven't spoken to him in weeks."

A thoughtful look came over Hermione's face as they walked toward the lifts. "What if you used bad ingredients that day?" she asked. It seemed improbable given Draco's meticulous attention to detail, but it wasn't an idea she was willing to rule out. "That could have caused the adverse reaction. It may also help us figure out a way to reverse the effects of your potion."

"Brilliant idea, Hermione, but Blaise is the only one with access to what I worked on that day," Draco replied, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was the closest he had come to showing any sign of affection toward the witch he had married. He found himself mimicking her smile as they silent rode the lift to the Atrium. Together, they floo'd home and waited for Ginny to return with Ana.

"What if I talked to him?" Hermione suggested as she prepared lunch for two.

Draco sat on the counter beside her, ignoring her reproachful look, and he shook his head. "Absolutely not," he replied adamantly.

Putting down the knife she used to slice tomatoes, she moved closer to him and rested her hand on his knee. "Draco, I told you nothing happened between us," she said reassuringly. "You said you believed me."

"I trust you, Hermione," he replied, taking her hand in his. "Look, Blaise kind of said something when I was in hospital. He likes you."

"Well, sure, we're friends," she said, eyeing their joined hands suspiciously.

He shook his head. "No, not like that," he muttered, becoming frustrated when he couldn't adequately express his thoughts. "Likes you...they way I did before the accident."

"You mean he loves me, wants to marry me, and have two children with me?" she joked.

Draco scowled impatiently. "I know you're not that thick, Hermione," he groused, looking into her eyes.

"I know you aren't either," she replied. "I married you, Draco, because I've never loved anyone the way I love you. No one is going to replace you."

He spread his legs and maneuvered her to stand between them. "How did I do it?" he asked, taking hold of her other hand. "How did I propose?"

Hermione smiled and stared down at her left hand. Between his fingers, rested the diamond he had given her five years earlier. "It was the first day of spring," she told him. "We hadn't been together all that long. Seven months or so. You came to visit me at school, and had a whole picnic prepared for us. And as we were lying in the grass, you picked up this little white flower and fashioned it into a ring. Then you asked me if I thought being with you forever would make me happy."

"Did you say yes?" he asked.

She laughed. "I did."

"Have you ever been unhappy with me?"

She cocked her head to the side as she considered his question. "I wasn't particularly happy with you during labor," she decided. "But aside from that, you've given me very few reasons to be unhappy with you."

He breathed deeply, steeling himself for what he would say next. "So, if you love me and you've always been happy with me, then why do you have divorce papers in your vanity drawer?"