AN: see. i haven't forgotten. i almost did, i'll admit it, but tada! thanks for reading my lovelies. *kisses*

Chapter 14 - Revelations

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know you don't, I'm not asking you to talk about it. I'm simply telling you what Yuri discovered and I thought perhaps you might be willing to listen to your husband complain." Hermione huffed loudly, pounding the dough into the counter.

She'd taken to cooking exorbitant amounts of food. She was constantly covered in flour, yet Draco wasn't going to complain. Hermione had started sending him to the Ministry with baskets filled with baked goods. It had certainly helped the other Aurors improve their opinion of the former Death Eater drastically.

"You want to use me as a sounding board."

"Frankly, yes. You're Hermione Granger. You know everything. You're brilliant and beautiful, incredibly sexy, the best baker I've ever known..."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Malfoy." Hermione groaned, rolling her shoulders as she pat the dough, covering it with a tea towel.

"Yes it will. It gets me into your knickers." Draco ducked, avoiding the flying biscuit aimed at his head.

"Fine. Tell me then. I've a spot of time before the biscuits are done, while the bread rises." Hermione perked on the edge of a barstool expectantly.

"It's a message obviously. You and Yuri sussed that much out before. However, Yuri didn't have the slightest clue about the runes on Charlie. They don't subscribe to rhyme or reason. I've hit the books, including the rare texts and.."

"Oh just show me the bloody picture." Draco flashed a brilliant smile and whipped the exact photograph he needed out of his satchel.

Hermione snatched it from his long fingers, avoiding his lips. It was amusing to her when Draco pouted and this instance was no different.

"Have you idiots finally realised Edgecombe and Corner are personal? While the crimes were committed by the same person or persons they didn't have a collective message similar to the other victims." Draco grumbled, standing behind her, kissing her neck.

"Yes, love. You're absolutely correct. Potter is bloody useless without you by the way."

"Tell me something I don't know, Malfoy."

"Weasley was paired with Bulstrode." He nipped her earlobe, his hands inching up her ribs.

"That's not funny."

"It's not a joke and you'd know it if you have bothered to read your owls. My father told me. He found it quite amusing."

"The murderer is targeting Harry."

"You've looked at the stupid picture for less than a minute! How do you figure that?"

"It's a guess really, but an educated guess. I mean, think about it alright? All the victims have been connected to Harry, myself and even Ron. It's not a former Death-Eater because it's too personal. This rune means lightning. If you think of it abstractly instead of literally, there's only one person I can think of which is associated with a lightning scar. Perhaps that's why she carved Charlie before she attempted to kill him. It wouldn't have scarred otherwise."

"Through my torment, you shall see, you deserve your tears, Harry Potter. That's completely terrifying, Nee."

"Yes well, I suppose you get to inform Charlie Weasley he has Harry Potter carved into his back. If you tell him with George, it'll lighten the mood considerably." Hermione gave Draco a shove so she could remove the chocolate biscuits from the oven.

"If she's targeting Harry, she could be targeting you as well."

"Malfoy, I don't bloody go anywhere these days. I Floo to Harry's to see James. I bring chocolate biscuits to your father. I spend the bulk of my days in this very kitchen."

"After what happened at the Ministry..."

"I'll be careful. I promise. Did Harry ever manage to sift through all the magical signatures left behind in Romania?" Draco snatched a biscuit, shoving it in his mouth before he wound up with a smack about his head.

"He didn't find a thing. All the signatures he came across were Ministry officials. Personally it wouldn't surprise me if one of them went rogue, but Potter wouldn't heart of it."

"He's an idiot."

"Tell me something I don't know." Hermione winked and it took every ounce of Draco's self control to restrain himself from shagging her on the table.

"The new Auror talks about my wife so often, I'm considering different methods of torture and death."

"Why is Nick talking about me? I only met him a few times."

"He's in love with your cooking. Potter's not allowed to share with him anymore under penalty of death."

"You're bloody adorable when you're jealous."

"Ginny told the Minister to go bugger himself."

"You're changing the subject." Hermione hugged him then. Her arms tight around his torso.

"Yes, I am. Doesn't make it less true. Apparently she and the hundreds of other witches and wizards who received owls are completely dissatisfied with their match."

"She's not matched with Theo I'm guessing."

"Oh no, Theo wound up with Hannah Abbott. Think she was a Hufflepuff? I don't bloody know, but I know she's a bit tore up about it considering she was engaged to Longbottom."

"Ohh, poor Neville."

"Poor Neville is right considering he's matched with Pansy."

"Sweet Merlin he'll kill her."

"Precisely. Perhaps that was the Ministry's plan all along. Did you take your Potion today?" Hermione groaned, slipping out of Draco's warm arms and shook her head.

She wiped her hands on her dark jeans leaving flour handprints on her bum, avoiding his gaze.

"Why not, love? Did you change your mind?" Hermione didn't have an answer really. It had only been a few weeks since their loss, a scant two weeks since James was born and quite honestly, she was scared. She didn't relish the idea of another loss. It was a slim possibility yet with Draco continuously working with Harry, she was nervous.

"Maybe we should wait, until the case is over and I'm sure someone expects me to be in a complete uproar over this Marriage Law and..."

"Nee, nothing's going to happen to me. I only go to the Ministry to hand off your copious amounts of food. I practically live at Stori's and believe you me she's less than pleased. I'll convert half the Potions lab into a work space. I'll tell Potter he has to come here. I'd rather spend my time working on that salve of yours quite honestly."

"You've always been adept at Potions. Perhaps you should take Lucius up on his offer. Malfoy Enterprises hasn't really branched into Potions per say, though they do have the best apothecary selections. You might like it."

"I'd love it actually, but I didn't know how you would feel about me working with my father."

"After watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy with Lucius, numerous times mind you, I think it's fine."

"He wants a telly now. He keeps asking me which one is the biggest and best and if they can be run with magic because he can't imagine getting electricky in the Manor. Yes, I'm aware it's electricity, but I can't correct him. It's too bloody amusing."

Draco grabbed Hermione around the waist, unable to resist her any longer. It didn't take but a moment for her to wind up on the kitchen table devoid of clothing. When she commented on the ridiculous amount of flour beneath her, he simply laughed, thrusting into her until it no longer mattered.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt can go fuck himself. I don't care if he is the Minister for Magic." Against her better judgement, Hermione had invited Ginny, Luna, Astoria and even Pansy to Forest Lake for a girl's afternoon.

Ginny Weasley hadn't wasted any time before declaring them ready to drink and cracking open a bottle of wine. One bottle became two and before they knew it, the girls were spread on the floor of the loft surrounded by fresh baked goods and empty wine bottles.

"Ginny, if you don't tell us your match, I'll command Dink to bar you from the wine."

"Goyle. Can you bloody believe it? Gregory Goyle." Astoria and Pansy dissolved into a fit of giggles, practically rolling on the carpet in a most unbecoming fashion.

Personally, Hermione thought it served Ginny right. Not that she disliked the youngest Weasley but perhaps seeing how much Gregory Goyle had changed would open her eyes to the possibilities. She'd never voice such a thing aloud for fear of a particularly heinous Bat-Bogey-Hex. Hermione also supposed she still harboured the slightly smidgen of animosity toward Ginny for having slept with Draco, regardless of how long ago it happened to be.

"I've got Longbottom. Merlin I hope he's not a complete bumbling idiot any longer. He was quite good looking sixth year. Yum." Pansy chewed the ends of her dark hair, picturing Neville naked no doubt.

"Neville's really quite sweet, Pansy. I'm sure he's disheartened about this Marriage Law considering he was engaged to Theo's match."

"Oh that's awful. Now I feel terrible. I need a firewhisky. Oi. Hermione, there's someone beyond your wards. She looks terribly angry." Pansy snickered, gazing out the picture window which overlooked the back garden.

"Stori, that's your bloody sister. You deal with her." Hermione growled.

"It's your house." Stori nursed her glass of wine, her lip curling in distaste.

Begrudgingly, Hermione traipsed out to the back garden to confront the unwanted guest. She had to admit, Daphne was a strikingly beautiful girl. She was tall and exceedingly thin where Astoria was short and curvy. Her chestnut waves rippled down her back as she adjusted the décolletage of her green dress. It was obvious from the narrowing of her eyes; she had expected to see Draco.

"Why are you here Mudblood?" Daphne hissed, her top lip twitching.

"Hello, Daphne, I'd say it's wonderful to see you, but I wouldn't want to lie. What can I help you with then?" Hermione crossed her arms, tapping her soft grey boots on the sodden grass.

"I'm looking for Draco, obviously. We had a wonderful passion filled weekend in Italy and I simply wished to share the news in person." Daphne's dazzling smile might have intimidated any other witch, but Hermione wasn't biting.

"Interesting. My husband told me all about your unfortunate meeting in Rome. In fact, I helped him incinerate the clothing he was wearing when you accosted him. Whatever bullshit you're selling, no one here is buying."

"You filthy slag. He'd never marry a Mudblood like you. Lucius wouldn't allow it! Wait until he finds out you've been pretending to be a Malfoy while I carry the Malfoy heir." Daphne arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow in triumph.

"You silly witch. We've been married since the New Year with a fidelity clause no less. I'll be sure to inform Draco of your unwelcome visit. I'm sure Lucius will be quite interested as well. Oh wait, stay for a moment why don't you? I do believe they're here." Hermione turned, sensing the change in the wards while waving at her husband and father-in-law who were hurrying across the lawn with their wands out.
Draco immediately embraced his wife, kissing her soundly.

"Are you alright? There was a gaggle of intoxicated women shouting through the Floo about Daphne and how you hadn't come back. I was worried. Father insisted we come immediately. Why is she here?"

Daphne Greengrass discovered herself on the wrong end of Lucius Malfoy's wand. She stood stock still as it pressed into her throat, directly beneath her jaw, barely drawing a breath.

"She wished to tell me all about her imaginary love fest with you in Italy and the imaginary Malfoy heir she's carrying."

"Draco, tell the little Mudblood to go. There's no need to pretend to care for her. I know it hurt you terribly when I left, but I'm back now and we can simply pick up where we left off." She winced as the wand twisted into her skin, bruising it.

"Ms. Greengrass, as pleasant as your sister is, you are not. You've insulted my daughter-in-law. You've insulted my son and by all rights you've insulted me. My son has not looked in your direction since the unfortunate time he allowed his cock to make his decisions. At least he had the decency not to repeat such an error in judgement. You are to leave here immediately. If I hear even a whisper of gossip about my family leave your lips, I will rip them from your face personally. Am I making myself clear?" Daphne nodded with difficulty, considering the wand placement.

There were tears in her eyes, yet they didn't fool anyone as the venom was oozing off her in waves. Daphne sauntered to a respectable distance and Disapparated without a backward glance.

"Come along, Ms Granger, I believe you owe me some chocolate biscuits."

"It's Malfoy, Lucius. Until you can learn my name, you can make your own bloody biscuits." Hermione clutched Draco's hand, practically dragging him back to the house. Mentally she counted to ten waiting for Lucius to come chasing after her.

"Wait. Hermione!"

"Father must really love those biscuits."

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months until finally it was only a few days before Victory Day. Harry Potter was quite irritable, considering he was no closer to a suspect in what he continued to call the Rune-a-mator case. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt was breathing down this throat constantly and as good as the new Auror was, Harry had half a notion to poison his coffee if Nick asked another question about the war.

Harry tossed another piece of crinkled parchment into the rubbish bin and groaned. He missed Draco. There weren't enough galleons in the world for him to admit it aloud, yet it was true. He hated having to explain things. He hated having to finish his thoughts as well. As much as he was remiss to admit it, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had a sort of shorthand which lent themselves to being the perfect partners.

"I hate this case." Harry watched his Golden Messenger Snitch zip out of his office. He hadn't meant to send it, but it was done now. Perhaps it would entice Draco to make a quick stop at the Ministry.

"C'mon Harry. It's a great case really. I don't know why the Minister requested me, but I'm having a ball. I prolly shouldn't say things like that though eh?" Nick Moretti sauntered into Harry's office, without knocking, as if he belonged there.

Harry grit his teeth, refusing to allow the American Auror to get under his skin. It's not that he disliked Nick. He didn't. Nick was a fantastic Auror with good instincts. It wasn't even that Nick was American. Personally, Harry thought Nick spent a little too much time working on his body than their cases, but who was he to judge? He supposed Nick was an alright looking bloke, not that he spent much time considering it or anything.

Nick wasn't as tall as the towering Draco Malfoy but he was taller than Harry. His close cropped light brown hair, reminded Harry of the blokes in the militia films Draco subjected him too. His eyes were a light brown and he constantly looked as if he needed a shave. Nick was a bulky bloke and Harry knew better than to engage in a physical altercation with the man.

"Moretti, it's not a bloody great case. My mate's brother was almost a victim. I personally knew every single victim. Perhaps you'd feel a bit differently if you discovered it was Nick Moretti carved onto another human being instead of a thinly veiled Harry Potter."

"A'right then. Hey. Do ya know a good place to eat? I mean like, my mama makes the best pasta I've ever had. Lasagna that would make you cry. Stuffed manigot.."

"Stuffed what now?" Nick rolled his eyes and sighed. It's not that he had anything against the British wizards he was suddenly surrounded with but at the same time, he missed home.

"Stuffed...man-i-cot-ti. It's a kinda pasta Harry. It's got a buncha cheeses and sauce and whatnot ok?" Harry was still adjusting to his new partner, trying to understand the nuances of his accent but food he could understand.

He heard the rapid flutter of the Golden Messenger Snitch's wings before he saw it. His fingers were already twitching, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to predict where it would land. It zoomed around the corner, over Nick's head and into Harry's waiting hand.

"That's awesome." Nick chuckled, nodding continuously.

"Come along then. We're going to Malfoy's."

"Ugh, that guy." Nick didn't say more than that, knowing he was already on thin ice. He didn't know what he'd done to offend Harry Potter but the wizard was famous. It was best to stay on his good side.

Fleur Weasley puttered around Shell Cottage, watching her young daughter play in the garden. She couldn't wait for Bill to return. He'd only been gone a few days, but she loved him so. She always felt better when he was home. Fleur reckoned Victoire did as well. She looked out the small window over the sink basin yet she didn't see her daughter.

"Victoire!" Fleur called from the back door, her yellow dress blowing in the breeze. She tied her blonde hair with a scrap of cloth as she wandered around the garden.

"Maman!" Victoire screeched, struggling in the grip of a tall witch Fleur didn't recognise.

She pulled her wand from the front pocket of her yellow dress, instantly on alert. Victoire continued to struggle, finally stomping the foot of her captor. Fleur tripped in the tall grasses, scraping her knees yet it didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as Victoire was safe. Fleur shoved her daughter behind her, wand brandished.

"Hello, Fleur. It's been a long time."

"Oo are yoo?"

"You don't remember me? That hurts my feelings, Fleur. Send the little one away now. Wouldn't want her to get caught in the cross-fire now would we?"

"Victoire," Fleur hisssed, never taking her eyes off the offending witch, "Go to zee houz. Eef I am not back, take ze Floo. Go to Nee." Fleur gave Victoire a shove as she flexed her knees, prepared to duel.

Lucius ignored the amorous sounds drifting into the telly room. Draco had attempted to explain to his father it was a loft, a future play area for his nonexistent children. As always, it fell on deaf ears. According to Lucius Malfoy, since it was the place where he enjoyed the telly, he'd refer to it as the telly room if he wished.

He assumed his son had forgotten his father was in residence when he accosted his wife. It wasn't the first time Lucius had overheard their lovemaking and he doubted it would be the last. He knew he should cast a Silencing Charm however, he truly believed it altered the picture quality on the telly and he was bound and determined to enjoy his new addiction.

"I'm never eating at your house again, Malfoy."

"Don't lie, Potter. You know you'd wither away and die if you had to rely on Stori." Lucius snickered.

Of course he knew better than to venture into the kitchen when Hermione was baking. He didn't understand his son's animalistic need to ravish his wife on the dining table while covered in flour, but to each their own. He propped his feet on the coffee table, balancing the bowl of buttered popcorn on his lap and raised the volume on the telly. He had no interest in engaging Harry Potter when there was bloodshed before him.

"You said come over. I didn't think you'd be shagging my best mate on the bloody table, Malfoy. That's completely unsanitary." Harry pulled the ends of his hair, causing it to stick up.

"We're wizards." Draco shrugged over his shoulder while buttoning his wife into his dress shirt.

"Are you going to the Ministry...function?" By unspoken agreement, Harry and Draco never referred to the Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts as Victory Day. With the number of losses suffered by both sides and the rebuilding of the wizarding world in general, they didn't feel very victorious.

"Oh Potter, Voldy Day can suck it." Hermione, still blushing furiously, slapped her husband's unclad chest.

"You've been watching the telly with your father again."

"So?" Draco held Hermione by the lapel of his shirt, kissing her soundly.

"No. Stop it. I don't want to see this." Harry eyed the clouds of flour still swirling in the kitchen air and the obvious body prints of flour on the table before he hopped onto the counter.

"Nowhere's safe, Potter. We shagged there yesterday." Draco wiggled his eyebrows, even as Harry turned the lightest shade of green.

"Nick is homesick."

"So you've come to beg my wife to cook for you. I wouldn't mind it so much if he'd learn to stop ogling my wife. I'm aware she's an incredibly beautiful woman, but if I see you looking anywhere but her face again, I'm going to.."

"A'right. A'right. I get it. Geez. Some people are so touchy eh? Anyways, I was wonderin' if any of youse guys knew a witch dat goes by the name of Daphne." They groaned collectively.

"Harry says you're homesick? I'm assuming there's some sort of dish you'd prefer?" Nick carefully met Hermione's brown eyes and nodded, noticing they hadn't answered his question.

"You don't want to know a thing about Daphne. Trust me, it's better that way." Harry rubbed his scar, looking skyward and wondering how Draco and Hermione managed to get flour on their ceiling.

"My moms makes a mean lasagna." Nick sighed with longing.

Hermione smiled, flicking her wand. Harry had a devil of a time ducking as pots and pans flew to the stove and vegetables began chopping themselves.

"I haven't heard such good things 'bout her, but the Minister gave me a missive. Youse guys have a Marriage Law, which is fucked up, doan even get me stawted. Dude, I'm sposed to marry this Daphne chick. She gets different rules though. Iunno what she did, but she can't have a wand for like the first two years.."

"Well, that's what you get when you piss off the Minister...and his friends." Hermione sniffed with disdain even as Draco's eyes narrowed with a sneaking suspicion.

"Nee, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" It was obvious she was lying by the plump lip caught between her teeth and the flitting of her eyes, but no one was going to force it out of her.

"How'd your knickers wind up there?" Harry cocked his head to the side in wonder. A green pair of lacy knickers dangled precariously from the corner of an upper cupboard, taunting them.

Neither Hermione nor Draco had the opportunity to answer such a question. Green flames roared in the living area Floo, causing Hermione and Draco to glance at one another before hurrying from the room. Draco had adjusted the wards, allowing only immediate family to use that particular Floo, unless it was an emergency.

"Auntie NeeNee! Auntie NeeNee!" Victoire Weasley fell from the Floo, crashing onto hard tile. Her chubby four year old face was streaked with dirt and tears as she sobbed. Victoire ran into Hermione's outstretched arms, practically choking her.

"What's wrong?"

"Maman sent me! Bad lady, NeeNee, bad." Hermione felt as if there were ice in her veins. She ignored the murmurings, the Patronuses whisking past her head and focused on the little girl in her arms.

"What bad lady? Where's your dad? Why didn't your mummy come with you?"

"I playing. Maman said stay close and I did. Daddy's way. Bad lady come and gwab me and I yell for Maman and I stompied her foot and ranned aways. Maman said go inside, wait. Maman no come, NeeNee. Maman said if she no come go NeeNee so I camed." A fresh batch of tears escaped Victoire's eyes as she dissolved into sobs once more.

"Victoire, what did the bad lady look like?"

"Big with Maman hair." Draco and Harry exchanged a look, moving in synchronisation as they threw on their cloaks. Nick watched their movements and knew it would take him years to have the same shorthand with his new partner.

"Nick, send a Patronus to the Minister. Malfoy..."

"Already sent. Father!"

"Your father's here?"

"No Potter, I'm simply screaming father for the fun of it."

"Draco, you're interrupting my program. It's most unbecoming...oh dear."

"I've got to go. Please keep an eye on Hermione and Victoire. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Malfoy. You promised!" Hermione struggled to her feet, awkwardly patting an inconsolable Victoire.

Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably, antsy to go. He didn't have a plan, not really, but it didn't matter. Fleur Weasley sent her daughter to Hermione Granger. Something was terribly wrong. He didn't have time to wait for Malfoy and Hermione to wrangle through their differences.

"Potter, take Moretti. You'll have to Side-Along. The Minister and Bill should be there momentarily. I've sent for your team as well. I'll be along shortly." Harry's tension dissipated slightly.

As much as he was remiss to admit it, part of him was always slightly grateful when someone else took the helm. He supposed it came from having Hermione make the demands during the war. He hadn't always agreed with her, but he'd learned to listen. Harry nodded curtly, gripped Nick's shoulder and Disapparated.

"Nee," Draco implored Hermione to understand, stepping toward her slowly even as she shook her head violently, backing away from him.

"I can't. You promised. You promised." Hermione sunk into the maroon armchair against the furthest wall, rocking Victoire.

"I can't be that...I can't be the man that sits here while that little girl's mother.."

"I know." Hermione hid her face in Victoire's blonde hair. Draco perched himself on the arm of the chair, his hand lost in Hermione's curls.

"I'll wait. Potter will send a Patronus or Bill will come racing up from the Traveling Room and we'll know the danger has passed." He ruffled Victoire's hair, expecting the glare she shot at him over Hermione's shoulder.

"You'd do that for me?" Hermione's voice was small and almost child-like. It took every ounce of his self control to keep from gathering her into her arms.

"Baby, I'd do anything for you." He smirked at the tell tale sounds of frantic feet clamoring up the staircase.

"Victoire!" Bill burst through the door in the corridor, sliding around the corner. He slowed seeing his daughter wrapped around Hermione, his chest heaving, his face feral. Though, whether it was from fear for his daughter or the scars marring his cheek was anyone's guess.

"Papá!" The blonde toddler wriggled out of Hermione's lap and ran to her father, finding herself instantly scooped into his arms.

Relations between the Weasley's and Hermione had been strained since her accident. It wasn't that she hadn't forgiven Bill, she had. She knew it had been an accident. Bill would never intentionally cause her harm. Hermione simply didn't wish to remember the aftermath. She wanted to heal and felt she couldn't with the constant reminder of Bill's remorse.

"Thank you." It was Bill's hoarseness that broke her out of her reverie. She took in the fear and tears in his eyes, the gentle shudder of his shoulders and nodded slowly with a small smile.

"What happened?" Draco nudged Hermione's shoulder until she moved aside, allowing him to settle beside her.

"I-I don't even know. Harry wouldn't tell me anything. Fleur is being transported to St Mungos. She's alive, that's something. Harry said he'll send a Patronus if he needs you, Malfoy. I-I don't..I mean how.."

"Bill, sit down." He found his knees instantly bending until he was sitting on the butter cream sofa as Victoire fell asleep in his arms.

Hermione brushed off Draco's hand from her knee, standing suddenly with a gentle sway. Bill frowned, yet remained silent even as she called for their house elf to bring them a spot of tea. He wasn't the slightest bit hungry. He was terrified quite honestly. Why would anyone target Fleur? She's never harmed anyone.

"Malfoy, go to St Mungos. I'm sure Bill would appreciate an update and he's quite reluctant to leave his daughter. Don't look at me like that. We'll be perfectly fine. I'll have Stori come by with James and Teddy. Perhaps the ruckus of small children will convince your father to go home."

"I heard that!" Even Bill managed a half smile at the elegant lilt wafting down from the loft.

A few hours later, Forest Lake was filled with witches and wizards scurrying about amid whispers, while Hermione remained in the maroon armchair with vacant eyes. She mumbled to herself, toying with her fingers even as Teddy and Victoire screeched at unholy volumes. She didn't know what had come over her, not really. She had been bustling about, preparing sleeping quarters, setting out various snacks and libation, when she stopped.

Hermione had held a tea towel in her hands, staring blankly at the marble still smattered with flour, when everything had stopped. Her multi-tasking mind had shut down. It was silent on the interior and it took so much effort simply just to blink. She had felt herself being lead to the chair, her knees bending, and a glimpse of blonde hair swinging, as she fought to catch her breath.

From the snippets of muted conversation she'd been able to process; she knew Fleur had been attacked. She wasn't conscious yet, though Bill was hopeful. Harry and his team were still scouring Shell Cottage for clues, though Hermione imagined he was furious. Lucius had left in a flurry of black robes snarling about the interruption of his programs. Draco hadn't returned yet, which really was the start of her end.

It wasn't the fact Fleur had a lovely expanse of runes carved into her back. It wasn't the fact there were seven victims and no one knew when it was going to end or even who was doing such things. It wasn't that she, Hermione Granger had married Draco Malfoy, of all the people in the world to marry, or even that she loved him with a quiet desperation she hadn't known was possible. It wasn't a lot of things one would expect it to be.

"She's been under so much strain..."

"Especially after that horrid accident..."

"She won't even discuss the loss of the baby..."

"Draco wants to try again.."

"Knowing Hermione she wants to wait until this terrible case is finished."

"Fleur's pregnant."

It was those few simple words, as Bill Weasley sat at the very table her husband had shagged her on that very morning, which tipped her world on its axis. They sucked her Gryffindor courage straight from her very soul, her chest tightening and her mind shutting down.

Hermione blinked rapidly, willing away the rapidly flashing pictures behind her closed eyelids. Troll in the girl's lavatory, being petrified by the basilisk, time turning her way through third year, the TriWizard Championship, Battle of the Ministry, Dumbledore's secrets, horcruxes, Snatchers, writhing on the floor of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix, sweet Merlin Bellatrix, which is when her screaming began.

It seemed so silly in retrospect. Harry hadn't dealt with his demons anymore than she had and yet he wasn't screaming with his eyes wide open. He channeled his energies into capturing the remaining Death Eaters and working himself to the bone to keep wizarding kind safe.

Ron had buried himself in a vat of spirits and he hadn't faced half of what she had. He had run, allowing his insecurities to play him like a finely tuned fiddle. The only thing Ron had ever done well was play a smashingly good game of chess.

She knew Malfoy hadn't been sleeping as of late. She'd awoken many a night to find herself alone and his side of the bed covered in a sheen of sweat. She couldn't imagine being forced to reside with the Darkest Wizard of all time. Hermione could feel her hands twitching, her throat raw, while wondering how on earth Draco Malfoy had ever learned to love. Berating herself for not having the strength of others.

"Should we Silence her?" Molly Weasley plucked Astoria's green sleeve with worry.

"No, Draco hates it when we do that." Astoria was thankful Ginny had thought to throw a Silencing Charm around the nursery upstairs while the children slept.

Molly tossed her hands in the air with frustration, shaking her head.

"What do you suggest then? Suffer with it?"

"You know Molly, you're not half as lovely as you'd like to pretend you are. She's been through bloody hell, if she wants to scream like a banshee in the sanctity of her own home, than she can do it all she likes. If it's so incredibly offensive to you, get out."

"You can't talk to me like that!" Molly huffed, puffing her large chest.

"Actually, I can. You're an enabler Molly. Learned that nifty word from Hermione's self-help books. You coddled Ginny since she's your only girl and then you feign disappointment when she's exactly who you raised. She's you Molly. If you don't like her, take a bloody look in the mirror. Ron is a pompous git because you've fed his insanity. He's a coward with a temper, which quite frankly is dangerous. I'm sure it was your idea that he attempt to win back Hermione too..."

"If she had given him another chance, they could have been happy!"

"Molly. You're deluded. Hermione Granger is brilliant and broken. Merlin forgive me, but in what world would she ever marry the man who deserted her and Harry in the middle of a horcrux hunt? The man who ignored her existence until it was convenient for him. Draco makes her happy."

"Yes, well, she looks ever the part right now doesn't she then?"

"Mum, you need to leave." Bill had managed to clear the haze from his worry and studied the arrogant toss of his mother's head. "Stori's quite right. It's Hermione's home. If she wishes to scream in it, then what do you care? Are you really still set on Hermione and Ron? Dammit mum, we all knew ages ago it'd never happen. Ron's an idiot. You need to come to terms with it. Charlie relocated all the way to Romania to get away from your overbearing ways. Fred died and you're still harping on us all. Let it go, mum. We love you, but we don't like you. Go home." Molly sputtered, yet stomped her way to the front door, pushing passed a very confused Harry and an anxious Draco.

"I hope you're happy with yourselves!" Harry and Draco ignored Molly's departing declarations to follow the sound of the muffled screams.

"Tell me you didn't Silence her." Draco sighed, sagging against the nearest wall.

"I Silenced the room. She can hear herself, but the children are sleeping upstairs and I sort of got into it with Molly so.."

"Dammit, Stori." Harry yanked his hair while clenching his teeth.

"I'm not sorry. I'm going to check on James. The two of you need to suss things out with Hermione." Astoria flounced from the room, green swirled skirt flowing out behind her.

Draco gave Harry a bit of a shove causing the Auror to stumble. If the situation with Hermione hadn't been so dire, Draco would have snickered and made some sort of scathing remark, but as it was, his primary concern was his wife. He had noticed the subtle change yet chalked it up to the accident. In retrospect, he realised, it was more than that. While they had known each other for most of their lives, they each had buried their darkest secrets. Perhaps it was time to unearth them for no other reason than it was time to trust each other and heal.

Hermione had quieted significantly, yet it was obvious she was having difficulty reigning in her madness. Her fists were clenched so tightly, Draco was sure her palms were riddled with half moons. Her jaw was clenched and her breaths hissed into the air. Her forehead was matted with damp curls and her cheeks were Weasley red.

Draco scooped her into her arms, adjusting her slightly until her head fell against his chest. He felt a coldness seep into his veins as he carried her. Hermione was making a conscious effort not to touch him, if he wasn't mistaken. She grasped her hands together in her lap, inhaling deeply at the base of his throat. He could feel her lips moving, yet he wasn't capable of discerning her words.

"You're going to leave me now." Were the first words he heard after he set her on their bed. He warded their door in order to keep a particularly nosy Potter from interrupting them.

"Granger, stop." She curled into a ball on her side, facing the wall. He couldn't see her face for all her hair, yet he sat beside her, his hand hovering over her bare arm.

"I don't want you too, but you will. I expect it." Draco had to press himself closer to hear her soft whispers. "I'm all damaged. You'll leave and I'll be all alone. It's too much. I can't. I don't want too. It's too hard."

"Baby, I don't understand."

"You're Malfoy. You can't love me if I'm broken. You'll leave and.."

"Stop. Look at me." Hermione snuggled deeper into her pillow, shaking her head violently, even as Draco wrestled with her. Being the larger and stronger of the two, it didn't take much for him to have her pinned on her back. He looked at her damp curls spread across her pillow, her red-rimmed caramel eyes, her pink nose and wondered how it was possible she didn't see her own beauty.

"I don't know where you got this horrid idea, but I'm not leaving you, Granger." He held her wrists over her head, but loosened his hold the more she struggled against him. Finally he sighed and settled himself half on top of her. He nestled his thigh between hers and rested his head on her chest.

"Harry and Ron hated me, did you know that?" Hermione sniffed, her voice still ridiculously low but at least her fingers were raking through his hair. He could tolerate anything as long as she never stopped.

"I met them on the Hogwarts Express first year and they hated me. They were only my friends because they felt sorry for me. Harry more than Ron. I was always the third wheel. It didn't bother me because I didn't have anyone else; with them I was never alone. No one's ever really liked me. Not even my parents, isn't that funny?" Draco didn't think it was particularly funny, but he wasn't going to interrupt her now that she was finally speaking.

"I kept thinking, if I studied hard and I did well, my parents would finally be proud of me. That's why I connected with Harry. He didn't have parents and well, my parents didn't want me. We were both neglected, in different ways of course. And now the war is over and my job is done. I helped Harry Potter survive. Or at least I helped him get to the final battle. That's something I suppose. I've been running on empty for so long, I can't remember what it's like not to be running and hiding and terrified."

"Granger, the war's been over for years now."

"Yes, I know, but I feel like I'm still fighting it. I don't know how to...I mean; most people think that Bellatrix Lestrange torturing me was the worst part of the war. It was, in that moment, but the worst part is when the war is over, but your mind won't stop playing it on the insides of your eyelids so fast and so furious that you forget how to breathe. I buried myself in my job and I bloody hated my job. I'm all broken. I lost my job. I lost my child. I'll lose you too. You shouldn't quit your job for me. You're really good at it."

"Love, I think when you're having these moments, you should talk about them. Not necessarily to me, though I wouldn't mind. I'd never mind. I'm sure Potter would understand and as much I detest him, I suppose the Weasel would as well."

"Y-you..you really do love me, don't you?" Hermione's breath caught in her sore throat, her fingers still tangled in Draco's silken locks.

"When are you going to believe me? I'm not leaving you. I'm not letting you leave me. I love you." Draco sighed in frustration, biting the side of his cheek to keep his temper in check.

"I'm trying."

Draco slowly made his way down the stairs after rocking Hermione to sleep. He wasn't in the mood to deal with a houseful of guests, yet he didn't have the heart to send them away either. He scratched the stubble on his chin, listening to the pair of four year olds play in the nursery. He hadn't set foot in it since learning Hermione was pregnant and suddenly not pregnant in the same evening. Draco knew his mother had decorated the room out of a hopefulness which came with age and as he heard the children's whispers, he wished they were his children.

"I can settle them downstairs." Draco hadn't realised his forehead rested against the doorjamb when Astoria sidled up beside him.

"It's fine."

"Liar." Astoria Potter sighed lightly, slipping her arm around his waist. She was surprised when he didn't reciprocate the action, instead shrugging her off. "How is she?"

"Why are you here?" Draco pushed passed Astoria's small frame, ignoring the flash of hurt in her bright blue eyes.

"Draco, you're family and she's my husband's best mate and.."

"Exactly. It's obvious you're jealous. You never call her your friend. She's always my wife and Potter's best mate but never your friend. I'm not an idiot. You think I don't see the way you look at her?" Draco had half a mind to lock himself in one of the bedrooms down the hall.

"I tried." Astoria fingered the exposed skin at his wrist before Draco wrenched away once more.

"I don't want you here."

"You don't mean that. You never mean that. I tried. I meant it then and I mean it now. I tried to like her. I tried to befriend her. I tried to be happy for you. Obviously I haven't done a very good job, but it doesn't change the fact that I tried."

"You were supposed to be my mate. One of my best mates. You were supposed to support me in my decisions. Dammit Stori, I encouraged you to pursue Potter."

"I only did it to make you jealous!"

"I don't want to hear this. I don't care. We were children then. I know you, Stori. If you didn't love Potter you wouldn't have married him. You wouldn't be so bloody furious when he channels his inner Weasley. You wouldn't.."

"Stop. Stop it." Draco stared down into the garden, a light mist of rain dripping from the green leaves below him.

Part of him had always known Astoria had harboured some sort of feelings for him, but he brushed them aside as he often did for anything which was of no consequence to him. Quite honestly he thought she was passed them long before he married Hermione.

"You love her. He loves her. Ron loves her. She's always bloody winning and I just..."

"Stori..it's not like that."

"It's always been her, hasn't it? For you I mean. Even before, when your parents were pushing, during the war. You knew, didn't you? You knew I fancied you a fair bit. You never saw me that way did you?"

Hermione eased open the adjoining door to the nursery, slipping inside. She regretted leaving her bed, but Draco had left and she found sleep was impossible without him beside her. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on his conversation, yet she couldn't step away.

Hermione supposed she'd always suspected Astoria had fancied Draco. It was in the way her eyes were alight when he deigned to gaze upon her. She ignored it more for Harry's sake than anything else. How could Astoria do that to Harry?

"Stori, you know you're important to me. I'd trust you with my life. I know you love Potter. You don't love me, not in the way you think you do. You're still hung up on childish imaginings." Hermione imagined Draco's tall frame leaning against the large window of the loft, avoiding Astoria's pleading eyes.

"Just tell me. I need to know. I can let it go if you just tell me. It's not as if Harry doesn't know. Of course he knows. I was honest with him and Merlin love him, he loves me anyway. You're right. I love him, I do. I've always had trouble letting go. You remember how horrid I was after the war. I was one of the few remaining, still clinging to those ridiculous ideals. As your best mate, I'm begging you, was there ever a chance?" Astoria wrapped her arms around herself, her jaw set, determined not to cry.

"No, Stori. You were right. It was her. It was always her. Even if she never returned my affections. It was never going to be anyone else, and it was never going to be you." Draco expected Astoria to, well he wasn't sure exactly, but he assumed there would be sobbing and tears, instead of the tremulous smile.

"Thank you."

Hermione cradled baby James after she changed his nappy. She could easily see herself doing the same with her son or daughter, even as Teddy and Victoire argued over the building blocks spread across the floor. James fussed a bit, which was expected. He was quite a hungry baby, but for all his rooting, Hermione wasn't the witch whom could aid his endeavors.

"Hermione, I-I wasn't aware you were awake. Draco said.."

"I want you to go." Hermione didn't turn around, still patting James bottom. She imagined a feigned confusion on the aristocratic features of her best mate's wife.

"I-I'm sorry. Really I am..I."

"You're not sorry, not really. You're sorry you were caught by the one person you didn't wish to know of your affections. I want you to go." Hermione could hear the sniffling behind her yet she didn't feel regret.

"I love Harry, you know I do, Hermione."

"I know. He's easy to love." Hermione finally turned, taking in the small frame, the wringing of Astoria's hands, the tears held fast in her eyes and sighed. "I never understood why we weren't close. Harry and I have talked of it at length. I understand now. You might love Harry, but you love my husband as well. Don't get me wrong, I'm not insecure. Not where you're concerned at least. I simply have enough going on in my life right now without thinking of my best friend's wife harboring feelings for my husband. I'd like you to go. I don't wish to see you. Not now. Tell Harry to feel free to bring James by whenever he likes." Hermione carefully placed James in Astoria's arms.

Astoria Potter's small frame shook as she held her son which conveniently enough rocked her son back to sleep. She didn't see fiery rage or even hurt in Hermione's eyes. It was a quiet sort of acceptance, which frightened her, really.

"I don't see why you're crying, Astoria. It's not as if we were ever really friends."