AN: Alright my lovelies...the next chapter is not remotely close to completed, perhaps by the end of the weekend if I don't wind up distracted...I make no guarantees. I heart the reception, you guys rock. *kisses*

Chapter 18 – September's Secrets

Hermione stretched her hands over her head and yawned, enjoying the late morning sunlight peaking through the heavy tapestries hanging around the enormous four poster bed. She hadn't expected to wake wrapped in her husband's arms and it was a pleasant surprise. His face was buried in her curls as it often was when she woke first. She adored his inability to stay away from her even in his sleep. She stroked his cheek, listening to the puffs of air filling the silence. She wouldn't qualify the sound as a snore exactly, however it was definitely a heavy breath and she knew he'd balk at the thought of being less than perfect. Draco twitched slightly, jerking away from her touch which left her just enough room to slip out of bed without disturbing him.

Her toes curled instinctively upon touching the cool floor. While she quietly bustled about their bedroom, she wondered where summer had gone. She swore it had only been just yesterday when their garden was filled with their friends. However, based on the sudden crispness in the air, she knew it wasn't so. Hermione decided it didn't matter. She had a secret, a deliciously wonderful secret.

The sound of feet thundering up the stairs broke her out of her reverie. Hermione quickly threw on a pair of faded jeans and Draco's old Quidditch jersey before hurrying down the stairs. She could hear the low timbre of voices while she set the kettle on the cooker and waited for Harry and Nick to beg her for a spot of tea.

"Pancakes and waffles are the same."

"No they ain't. They're totally different! Waffles are crisp and golden wit those lil holes all filled wit syrup. Pancakes are round and mushy."

"Waffles are round as well!" Hermione shook her head listening to Harry defend the honour of pancakes.

"Waffles can be square! There are deese frozen ones and they ain't as good as Hermione's but they're aiight in a pinch."

"They taste the same."

"They don't!"

Harry and Nick burst into the kitchen obviously disgruntled with each other. They glowered, sitting at the breakfast nook without even tossing a greeting in Hermione's direction.

"I'm not even going to bother to ask what you'd like for breakfast." Hermione placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Harry and a piping mug of coffee before Nick.

They remained silent, staring into the rising steam. Hermione, definitely not having the patience for such theatrics smacked them both about the backs of their heads before retreating to the cooker.

"She's violent."

"It's your fault Potter."

"How is it my bloody fault?!"

"Hermione obviously has a sophisticated palette and the very suggestion that pancakes are superior to waffles insulted her delicate sensibilities." Harry Potter burst into laughter. Only Nick Moretti could put on such an abysmal British accent while simultaneously sound so pompous.

Hermione managed to tune out their childish bickering, focusing on her delicious secret. She could barely believe it when Gregory Goyle had pulled her aside during the outlandish dinner party. She had never held an actual conversation with him before, but he seemed so sincere, contrite even, she couldn't resist giving him a few moments of her time.

"Uh, Granger, I mean Mrs. Malfoy? I…" Gregory Goyle wasn't sure if it was proper to look her in the eye or stare at the trampled grass beneath her feet. He'd never spoken civility to her or about her in all his days.

It was Ginny's fault. She was the one that convinced him to speak with her. He'd diligently tried to change his image after the war. He'd studied hard and made notable donations to various charities all in the name of unity. He'd been a follower his entire life and it wasn't until he discovered an affinity and love for Charms that he finally came into his own.

He wasn't stupid. He wasn't useless. He wasn't a follower, not anymore.

"Goyle? Oh, I'm sorry. Malfoy has this terrible habit of referring to everyone by their surnames and I supposed its rubbed off a bit. Is something wrong? Is Ginny…"

"No, everything's fine. It's simply, well, Ginny mentioned." Greg sighed, frustrated with his inability to formulate coherent thought. Hermione Gran er Malfoy, intimidated him and he wasn't remiss to admit it.

"No need to be so nervous. This is a party of some sort isn't it then?" Hermione smiled at him. The astonishment on his face almost made her laugh, but she didn't wish to frighten the poor boy.

"Listen, Ginny told me in confidence, but I can help. Flitwick, I've been apprenticing with him, I'm sure you knew. You're Hermione Granger uh Malfoy, you've always known everything. Regardless, I found some notes that I thought would interest you." Greg attempted to smile, truly he did, but it made his face feel strange and he decided he didn't care for it.

Hermione studied his dark eyes, his close cropped hair and even his stance before answering him. She didn't know why Gregory Goyle would be remotely interested in helping with her anything, but her curiosity got the best of her, as it oftentimes did.

"Notes? What sort of notes? Why would you think they'd interest me?" Hermione allowed Greg to lead her to the small patch of stone beside the house, away from prying eyes.

"Flitwick says I'm the best apprentice he's ever had. I don't know if that's true or not, but no matter. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I'm hoping I can count on your discretion. There's an antechamber to the Charms classroom, did you know that? I was struggling with the desk drawer and well I found some parchment stuck to the underside of the drawer. They were Dumbledore's notes on a particularly difficult Memory Charm." Hermione gasped, grabbing his forearm roughly, unable to hope against hope. "Your name was in the margin. I've been practicing it, in secret and it's definitely complicated…"

"You could do it? I mean if you had the proper subjects?" Greg had to admit he was a bit afraid of her. It was the intensity in her eyes, not to mention the iron grip on his arm. He didn't want to disappoint her.

"Do you have subjects? The Ministry has allowed me to practice on some prisoners in Azakan, top secret of course. They don't want their secrets on the front page of the Prophet, but I avoid it while I can. Doesn't feel right." Gregory Goyle squared his shoulders, completely prepared for Hermione Malfoy's tongue lashing, yet it didn't come.

"You…really have changed, haven't you Greg?" Hermione released her hold on his forearm and patted it awkwardly, taking in the new man before her.

"I…I've done my best." He flushed slightly with embarrassment and stared at the uneven paving stoves.

"I can't say I condone using prisoners for experiments, but there really isn't any other option. I suppose if it's performed incorrectly it could have dire consequences. Have you managed to…" Her overactive brain ceased functioning before she was able to inundate him with questions. It wasn't her place to call his expertise into question no matter how much she wished to do so.

"I've been working on it for months. I haven't desecrated anyone's memories as of yet. In fact, the main complaint has been remembering too much. I wasn't aware such a thing was possible. If it helps ease your mind about it…it worked quite well on Gilderoy Lockhart, if you remember him, he was quite a mess." Hermione almost collapsed. It was Gregory Goyle's burly arms which kept her on her feet.

"Gregory Goyle, you are the most wonderful man I've ever known." She wavered on her feet but refused to fall. Her stubborn nature remained with her in all things, as it had always done.

Hermione Malfoy reached up, on the tips of her toes, flung her arms around Greg's neck and kissed his cheek.

"You've done it. I can't believe it. Of course now it's a matter of finding my parents, but I can do that. I have a place to start and I'm sure the Minister would be willing to lend some Aurors to the cause. I mean, I'm not one to use my name to get what I want, but these are my parents. Surely even the Minister can understand how important they are to me." Greg nodded without understanding and watched the exuberant witch scurry away.

"She's humming, why is she doing that?" Nick shoveled yet another deliciously light yet crisp waffle into his mouth, refusing to wipe the syrup from his chin.

"She's Hermione, when she has a secret she hums, it's what she does." Harry groaned at the sensation of his pancakes melting on his tongue.

"You said when she's in doubt she goes to the library. Which is it?"

"Both. You've ruined my plans to toss flour all over my bloody kitchen and shag my wi…"

"Malfoy, please stop talking, we're eating for Godric's sake." Harry averted his eyes from a bare chested Draco Malfoy, concentrating on his morning meal.

"If you ever ate at your own bloody home, I could eat Ne.."

"I'm going to be sick. Sweet Merlin Malfoy, do you ever think of anything other than shagging?"

"I wasn't speaking of shagging just then, was I? I believe I was referring to…"

"I hate you."

"Good. Get out." Draco Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows and sauntered across the kitchen, impatient for his morning kiss.

Hermione ignored the exchange between Harry and Draco, used to their morning antics. She smiled to herself while flipping pancakes, waiting to feel the familiar muscular arms encircle her waist and the soft lips kiss the side of her throat. It had become part of their sporadic routine whenever Draco had a late start and she thrived on it.

"You're terrible." She murmured against the cheek pressed to hers, a smile dancing on the corners of her lips.

"Perhaps, but you love me anyway." Draco spun her around, ignoring the batter which flicked across his arm and kissed her. He often lost himself in her and this morning was no different. After a few moments of a heated snog which ended with his hand upon her breast and a rumble in his chest, the pointed coughing forced him to pull away.

"I think I hate it when they interrupt what could have been a most delectable morning." Hermione sighed, a most disgruntled sigh against the smooth expanse of his chest.

"Me too, Nee. Let's block the Floo. Now, tell me your secret." Draco kissed her forehead with a wink, loving the way her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Oi, Hermione, you're not pregnant are you? That'd be a fantastic secret, wouldn't it Nick?" Nick, being the wonderful friend he was, smacked Harry in the head with a roll of his eyes.

"D'ya really think she'd share a secret like dat with us, Harry? Dat's private. You ain't so smawt sometimes yeah?" Nick shrugged his shoulders in apology even as he grabbed Harry by the ear to drag him down to the Travel Room.

Hermione hated having to dash the hopeful look shining in Draco's eyes, but it was necessary for the moment.

"Malfoy, when I am, you'll know and it won't be over breakfast with Harry and Nick. I found my parents. Well, I didn't exactly find them but they've been found. Now before you get angry, Gregory has been helping me quite a bit. He's a wonderful man, I'm so glad he was paired with Ginny. She deserves someone like him. I can see you glowering at me. Stop it. He's the Charms apprentice under Flitwick and he…"

Draco's teeth grinded together as he listened to his wife prattle on about how wonderful fucking Gregory Goyle happened to be. It's not that he wasn't interested in what she was saying, he was, it was a matter of…well jealously quite frankly. He consistently wanted to be her knight in shining armor, at least that's what he believed the blithering idiots in Muggle fairytales were, but she didn't need to be rescued. Hermione Malfoy was quite capable of saving herself and it drove him mad.

"Malfoy, you're not even listening."

"I bloody well heard you. Goyle is a wonderful fantastic human being and you've managed to convince Shacklebolt to fetch your parents. I suspect you're only informing me because Goyle's been successful with the Memory Charm and that you'll be packing a bag to…"

"No, Malfoy, stop. I'm not…I'm not going. I'm not saying I didn't try, I did, but Shacklebolt said he couldn't spare the number of Aurors my husband would deem necessary to allow me to accompany them to Australia." Draco quickly covered his smile. It wouldn't do to mock her obvious dejection, even if he was completely elated.

"I suppose you would consider it completely obnoxious if I were to say something along the lines of thank Merlin?" He could she was attempting to be angry with him; the gentle uplift which twitched the corner of her mouth belied her intent.

"I want you to lead the team. I…I know you left your job because of what happened to me and to a certain extent I understand it, I do and I even appreciate it because I don't have to worry about you being blown up. I want to retrieve my parents. I want to be there when Gregory restores their memories, even if they hate me for it, but I can't. I could argue with the Minister, but he wouldn't relent without me returning and…. I'm not returning to my job, I don't care how much Shacklebolt and Gringotts beg. I'd rather do something with Magical Creatures or even accept Blaise's offer to work in the restaurant."

Draco smirked, unable to stop himself. He held her close, memorising the way she fit against him. He despised the way moments would race through his mind's eye. He could barely draw a breath as the feelings of seeing her battered, broken and bleeding replayed. He hadn't known he loved her until that moment and often he kicked himself for not seeing the signs. Even as he held her in his arms, smoothing her riotous curls he cursed himself.

"Nee." Hermione stiffened. She knew that tone. He didn't use it often, she'd give him that but when he did, it always pulled her heartstrings more than she thought it should.

"Malfoy…Draco, please. Shacklebolt is assembling a special team and you know what that means. He's going to put Harry in charge and I love Harry, I do but these are my parents. I haven't seen them since…since the war and Harry's a good Auror, but he's…irrational and spontaneous and he never listens. You know he doesn't! He's still obsessed with bringing Molly in for questioning and we all know how ridiculous that is, but not Harry. He hasn't found a bit of evidence to support his theory and yet he won't let it go. He's like a rabid dog with a bone." Hermione sobbed into his chest and the passing thought of wishing he was wearing a shirt crossed his mind as his grip tightened around her.

"Are you absolutely certain you know where they are? You know I detest walking into a situation without all the pertinent information. You're begging me to take point, so I'm assuming you've already convinced Shacklebolt." Draco sighed, his long fingers languidly stroking his wife's back, toying with her curls and grasping the delicious curve of her bum.

Hermione inhaled the fresh scent of his skin, tears continuing to drip from her toffee eyes even as she gazed upon the chiseled jaw of her husband. She hadn't meant to cry. She hadn't meant to be so completely overcome with emotion, but it wasn't over something as frivolous as pancakes, it was her parents. She missed them desperately and even if they never forgave her for what she had done, she needed the chance to tell them she was sorry. She needed to look into her mother's eyes and listen to her father sigh in discontentment. She wanted to introduce them to her husband and hear them tell her how proud they are of her for the life she's managed to build despite opposition.

"I had a general idea. I realised I should have been more specific when I suggested Australia, but that's neither here nor there. Shacklebolt sent a reconnaissance team to New South Wales. It was Nick's idea actually. He thought perhaps remnants of England lingered because while memories can be erased it's much harder to erase the emotional connection. Kingsley says they reside in Liverpool, but I'm quite certain he's not telling me everything…wait, are you actually considering doing this for me?" Hermione was furiously wiping the tears from her cheeks, afraid to hope against hope.

She knew she was almost asking the impossible, but there were no other options, not for her. This was the man who had cradled her gently in his arms when she went against his better judgement in her stubbornness. This was the man who had allowed her to cry and to heal in whatever manner she chose without judging her or pressing her. This was the man who held her in his arms each evening whispering words of love against her brow. This was the man who had gifted her the most beautiful snow globe she had ever seen, with a beautiful single worded inscription which made her burst into tears. He was the man who she knew secretly salivated for a child yet when she didn't wish to discuss it, let the matter drop. She trusted him with her life therefore it was without a second thought she envisioned him bringing her parents back to her.

"I don't want to go back into the field. I've told you this, but this is a special circumstance. Kingsley requested me for a special duty assignment. It seems my expertise was demanded and he wasn't apt to refuse the demand. I was planning on discussing it with you over breakfast but Scarhead and the American interrupted as usual. Kingsley's offered me a desk job when all this is said and done. He'd like me to take over the Trainees and I'm not against it. It's safer I suppose, though if the Trainees are anything like Longbottom in first year, I'm truly fucked." Draco studied the lines etched into her forehead and the sagging relief evident in her shoulders and smiled.

"You're joking. You're not joking! Kingsley really…and you're…oh my gods!" He couldn't help but laugh at her antics. It amused him greatly whenever she was overwhelmed and excited she never finished a single sentence. She was half a minute away from dancing about the kitchen and she hadn't the slightest idea.

"Calm down love, have a bit of pumpkin juice." Draco released his bouncing wife to slide into the corner of the breakfast nook. He pulled over a plate of waffles, thankful for the invention of warming charms and tucked in.

"We haven't any pumpkin juice. It smelled off." Hermione shrugged and poured them large glasses of orange juice, wrinkling her nose at the pulp.

"Nee…I just had bloody Dink bring it here from the Manor yesterday. I'm sure it was fine. I don't understand your obsession with tossing perfectly good pumpkin juice in the bin." Draco grumbled piling waffles and bacon on Hermione's empty plate.

"Draco stop it, I can't possibly eat all that. I just wish to have my juice and perhaps a spot of toast." Draco growled at her which she took to mean he was displeased, but she wasn't about to force herself to eat when her stomach was being most disagreeable. "Now, I'm assuming Kingsley is planning on debriefing all the members of the team. The question really is whether he's going to allow you to hand pick the Aurors or whether he'll simply demand you preside over those who have already been chosen. I don't know about you but…"

"What the bloody hell is this?" Harry Potter, green eyes blazing, dark hair askew, stumbled into the kitchen of Forest Lake waving a crumpled piece of parchment angrily. "I talked to Shacklebolt. Do you know what he said? Of course you do! He said, Hermione, that you bloody requested Malfoy. Bloody Malfoy? Really? We've been best mates since we were kids and when it comes time to retrieve your parents you ask for Malfoy to lead the team?"

"Potter's knickers are in a twist, love." Hermione knew Draco was attempting to make light of the situation, but his eyes told a different story.

He had worked side by side with Harry Potter for years. They were fine tuned to each other's nuances, predicted each other's moves and finished each other's sentences. He had been present when Harry had married his best friend; therefore Harry's words hurt more than he let on. Hermione could see it, feel it even and he was thankful for her. He didn't need to explain himself. He simply left the room without a word. Draco didn't think it would bode well for him to lose his temper. Hermione had softened him and he welcomed the change. He supposed when it came down to it, as far as he thought he had come, when Harry Potter lost his temper and felt he wasn't receiving his due, Draco Malfoy would always be 'bloody Malfoy' and it hurt more than he was willing to admit.

He refused to revert to the crutch of his childhood. He wasn't going to hex the bastard or even stomp up the stairs demanding his anger be acknowledged. Instead, he padded down the short corridor and sat upon the stairs. Draco's decision was two-fold, being the Slytherin he is, he needed to step away from Potter before he did something he might regret and he wished to eavesdrop.

"Hermione, you're not even saying anything!" Draco imagined Harry to be pacing, yanking on his stupid hair, waving his stupid wand.

"What is it you'd like me to say Harry? Perhaps you should tell me so I get it just right. Wouldn't wish to unduly upset the great Harry Potter now would it? Apparently he takes a bit of offense to not getting his way." Draco smirked and he bet himself that Potter hadn't the slightest clue Hermione was seconds away from the seething anger he knew quite well.

"You bloody well know what I want you to say! I want you to tell Kingsley that there's no one you'd rather head the team to bring back your parents than Harry Potter!"

"Why?" Hermione tapped the side of her orange juice glass, watching the pulp sink to the bottom, darkening the juice to a muted sunset. She was resisting the urge to slap her friend.

She was trying to understand Harry's upset, but it was difficult when he insisted on ranting like a loon. Hermione understood Harry's protective nature, she'd been dealing it since she was a child, but this was different. It was almost as if he were jealous, which was ridiculous. She supposed he was used to being the hero and here was ample opportunity to make his friend whole and she assumed he felt as though it was his right. It wasn't, but she couldn't help but love him for the thought.

"What do you mean why? Hermione! Are you saying you don't trust me? Are you really saying that trust Malfoy more than you trust me? I mean…after everything we've been through together…I…"

"Shut up, Harry." Hermione dropped her head to the table wishing Draco hadn't left. "It isn't about you."

"What do you mean it isn't about me?! Of course it is. You're choosing Mal…"

"My husband. I'm asking my husband to retrieve my parents because he's my family." Hermione sighed and closed her eyes.

She knew she had hurt him. It hadn't been her intention. Harry was like her family. He was the closest thing she had while in absence of family, but he wouldn't understand. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. He didn't have parents, through no fault of his own and so he had desperately clung to his friends. She didn't fault him for that, she couldn't, yet at the same time she needed him to understand.

"Nee, you're not looking well. Would you consider resting in the sitting room while I have a word with Potter? I promise we'll behave." Draco silently reentered the kitchen to squat beside his wife.

He had heard the whisper of a sob in her words, which plucked at his heart strings. Draco knew Harry hadn't picked up the subtlety but he didn't blame the man. Learning about Hermione was an art form and it took patience and observation. Harry knew Hermione well, but the time of him knowing her better than she knew herself was gone. They weren't children any longer and it was time to let go.

Draco picked Hermione up easily, ignoring her garbled protests. He was proud of himself as he resisted the urge to bump into Harry on his way to the sitting room. He deposited Hermione gently onto the butter cream sofa and kissed her forehead.

"Baby, I love you." Hermione curled into a ball on the sofa, her curls falling into her face as her eyes closed. Draco couldn't remember a time when he'd seen her so tired. He assumed the entire situation was physically and emotionally tolling for her. He couldn't even imagine being in her position, then or now. Draco covered her with a light caftan and returned to an angry Potter.

"What the hell Malfoy?" Harry shoved the taller man, irked he was reduced to physical violence.

Draco, to his credit did not respond. Instead he sidestepped the angry scar headed wizard and perched on the edge of the kitchen counter. He was not the least bit surprised to see Harry's wand drawn and pointed at his chest.

"When you're done posturing and prepared to listen, by all means, let me know yea?" Draco waited until Harry began lowering his wand before padding into the kitchen and pouring himself a mug of coffee.

He hadn't completely embraced the idea of Muggle appliances, but the coffee maker was a bloody brilliant invention and he adored it. He tugged on the drawstrings of his lounge pants, completely at ease. Harry on the other hand, was channeling his inner Weasley as the state of his rosy cheeks would attest. He slouched onto a barstool, his fingers stroking the smooth wood of his wand. He glared at the mug of coffee Draco set before him refusing to speak.

"Imagine James was in grave danger and in order to keep him safe, to save his life even, you were forced to send him into hiding. You couldn't go with him of course, that would defeat the purpose. You didn't want to, not really and the little voice in your head disagreed with your decision. It said you were being rash and the danger wouldn't justify your actions. Would you still do it Potter?" Harry's eyes narrowed with suspicion, yet he was curious.

Harry was sure there was a nefarious plot afoot, a trick even, and yet he knew Draco Malfoy. They hadn't been partners without reason. Harry sighed and contemplated Malfoy's words before his head began to nod.

"Yeah, I would because there are no limits when it comes to the lives of your family, but Malfoy…this…"

"Now, say the danger has passed and you're ready to go and collect your son, but you can't…"

"WHY? Why can't I collect him? I should be there. It's my fault he was sent away in the first place." Draco covered his grin with a quick sip of his coffee.

"Potter, pay attention. You can't bloody go because…you've been injured. Your leg fell off, your scar grew arms and tried to bloody strangle you, it doesn't matter. You can't go. Now, this is your son, your only son. If you had to send someone in your place, who would you send?"

"Stori, no question. She's my wife and…well shit." Draco chuckled as the light finally lit Harry Potter's eyes in the moments before his head thumped the counter. "This has nothing to do with me. I'm an idiot."

"Well I'm most certainly not going to argue with you."

"Why must we go to all these bloody weddings?" Draco whined, as he was apt to do when forced into situations he absolutely wanted no part.

Hermione ignored him, as she was apt to do when these situations arose. She was refreshed from her nap and after listening to Harry's bumbling apology she was in good sorts.

"Malfoy, these people are our friends. It simply won't do to not attend. George and Tracey's wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, but considering…well…uhm" Hermione chewed the corner of her lip while attempting to express the situation delicately.

"Granger, love, let's just be honest alright then? George and Tracey aren't fulfilling their Ministry contract due to the fact he knocked up Padma. I find that quite hilarious, I didn't know the Weasley had it in him. Apparently one eared Weasley is genetically compatible with whomsoever he sticks his cock in. Shacklebolt is bloody up in arms; did you really think I didn't know?" Draco buttoned his navy blue shirt, wishing Hermione was still wrapped in the fluffy towel she had donned after their shower.

"What happens to Tracey now? That's the real question I suppose. Do they deem her ineligible?" Hermione shimmied into a light blue sundress with a sigh.

"Apparently the lists are compiled in the deep recesses of the Ministry. Tracey wound up with some Ravenclaw, Davies I think his name is. Her compatibility level with Davis isn't quite as high as it was with the Weasley but it's passable. It works out well for them. Patil was set for Davies I believe and while Shacklebolt was quite put out, he really couldn't put up too much of a fuss. The witch is pregnant and that's apparently the entire point of the Marriage Law." Slowly, he stalked his wife until he was mere inches from her and pulled her roughly into his arms.

"You scared me, bastard. Anyway, we've got the Bulstrode-Weasley wedding tomorrow morning and the Abbott-Nott wedding in the evening. We're going to be exhausted. The day after, we've got Parkinson-Longbottom and I'm not looking forward to that at all. You're leaving on Monday so…"

"Sunday night love."

"Ugh, that's worse. You don't get the joy of attending the Weasley-Goyle wedding you right bastard. Have you picked your team yet? Do you have an extraction plan? What if they don't believe you or they try to…"

"Nee, please remember to breathe. I could give a shit about the weddings. I'll go with you because I appreciate my bollocks remaining attached to my body. I don't care who is marrying whom. Of course I have a team. I'm actually just going with Potter's team. I know them. I've worked with them and I trust them." Hermione ran her fingers up his chest on the pretense of smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles.

"Are you taking Cleaners? Or are you just taking Aurors and an Investigator?" He heard the tremor of uncertainty in her voice. He knew she was afraid, it was natural. She hadn't seen her parents in years and if things went according to plan, she'd be spending her birthday with them.

Draco had read the file on her parents so many times he had memorized almost every detail. He'd kept it hidden in a drawer of the desk in his study. It wasn't that he was against sharing information with his wife, it was a favourite pastime of his; however some of the things in the file were quite sensitive in nature. He didn't know how he would tell her. It would be difficult, but if she found out from someone else, she'd never forgive him.

"You're quite an interfering witch aren't you? You know I'm not supposed to tell you. I mean, I will but you should know I'm breaking the rules you love so well." Draco kissed her forehead quickly before continuing. "I'm never repeating this so pay attention. I'm taking the team Potter and I have spent the past four years or so training to our specifications. I realise there's not necessarily a need for all the members of the team, but they're trained well and they're adaptable. Nott for instance, yes he's a Cleaner but he'd prefer to be an Investigator like Pansy, so he's spent his down time voraciously reading. Chang is also a Cleaner but her interest truly lies in being a Post-Mortem Healer and Patil has been taking her under her wing which works out really well for me. I'm obviously not taking Patil due to her condition. How strange would it be if she had a brown ginger? Anyway, Pansy is postponing her honeymoon since the only other qualified Investigator is Pucey and I can't bloody stand him. Quite honestly I'd prefer if I had two of everything but…" Draco shrugged, slightly disgruntled.

"Like Noah? Two by two into the ark?" Hermione laughed at her own little joke, imaging the Ministry officials marching by twos.

"Noah who? Do we know a Noah? Why does he have an ark?"

"He was a Muggle, Malfoy…from the Holy Bible. No? Well, that's alright I suppose. I suppose it'll fall on me to teach our children such things." Draco instantly perked up.

He had seen Hermione and Luna whispering furiously in the past weeks and while his curiosity was piqued, he didn't wish to pry. It was utterly and completely a lie, he wished nothing more than to pry but he did not wish to be on the wrong end of his wife's wand. Draco had considered approaching Luna, but after she had shrieked at Harry Potter during their impromptu dinner party about Nargles, he decided it would be best to leave things as they are.

"Well Nee, when are we having these children who will need to be educated in all things Muggle?" He teased her, as was his habit, before he crossed the room to inspect his wardrobe. He detested packing but Nee had convinced him it was better to finish it early rather than leave it until the last moment.

"April." Hermione felt her throat vibrate as she swallowed hard against the nerves threatening to erupt in a most spectacular fashion.

She couldn't believe she allowed herself to be intimidated by Luna Zabini. It wasn't enough she had to pry a blazing angry Luna off a confused and slightly terrified Harry Potter in the middle of her dinner party. Hermione had tried to explain it was a hypothetical scenario, but Luna refused to hear of it. She still maintained Harry was a Nargle murdering bastard and refused to speak to him.

It was later, weeks later when Luna dragged Hermione to the loo that it all began.

"Luna, are you alright? You seem a bit out of sorts…" Hermione wet a cloth and wiped down Luna's flushed cheeks.

Luna Lovegood Zabini stared into the looking glass, allowing Hermione to fuss over her. It had been a long time, a very long time since someone had cared enough about her to fuss over her. She hadn't had the joy of having a mother. She hadn't felt the warmth of a mother's embrace, the kisses upon the forehead and the murmured 'it's all rights' since she was a small child. Luna sighed upon feeling Hermione's cool palm on her cheeks and leaned into her.

"Blaise loves me. I mean, he really loves me. I've seen the look. I know most people don't understand our relationship, but I like to think they're simply close minded individuals. He has a tendency to be quite boisterous but he's really quite sweet. You wouldn't think it, but he is. I overheard him speaking with Draco and Blaise wants to take me on some sort of Safari to search for some rare magical creatures. I can't imagine taking a holiday for an extended period of time with how busy things have been at St. Mungos, but the thought is lovely." Hermione hopped onto the counter, studying the contours of Luna's face.

"Secretly I believe all Slytherins have a bit of sweetness in them. Not to worry, it'll remain a secret between us girls."

"Blaise wants to start a family. I keep telling him we're too young. He's got the restaurant and I'm practically run ragged with overnights. It's completely impractical, isn't it?" Luna was verging on hysteria, which worried Hermione slightly. As strange as the blonde was, she had always maintained such a cool exterior; Hermione had difficulty believing hysteria was in her wheelhouse.

"I think we're more alike than I wanted to admit, Luna. We're adults now and perhaps we always were. I don't think it's possible to come through a war without growing up too soon. We all did. I suppose you're just as scared as I am."

"I'm not like you. I mean, I'm not strong like you. I'm strong in my own way and I take everything in stride but I don't face the world head on and I don't want too. I lost my mum when I was young, long before I ever got my Hogwarts letter. I don't know how to be a mum and what if I do it all wrong? What if something happens and I wind up like my mum and my child…"

"Luna, no, stop. I wouldn't have gotten through the emotional turmoil of my accident if it weren't for you. You're perfectly suited to Healing and if you were to have a child you'd be the best mum. You'd teach your daughter all about the importance of Nargles and make sure they never ever ate them. She would be loved so much. You'd never intentionally put yourself in harm's way. There's no need for such things anymore, the war is over." Hermione hadn't realised she had grasped Luna's hands tightly with her own, a desperate pleading sort of intonation to her voice.

Luna stared at their reflection, taking in their red rimmed eyes and the dried tears upon their cheeks before expelling her held breath. She straightened her posture and lifted her chin with defiance, forcing the last vestiges of fear from her watery blue eyes. She patted Hermione's cheek gently and smiled.

"I suppose we'll embark upon this particular journey together." Hermione quirked her head, curious yet trusting of Luna's abrupt change in demeanor.

Luna plucked her wand from the front pocket of her full skirt, cautiously waving it between them. The magic gently flowing in the small quarters was invigorating and Hermione's skin tingled. When the burst of psychedelic colours swirled around them, Hermione expelled a short puff of disbelief amidst Luna's light laughter.

"Don't even think of questioning my expertise Hermione. I can see the thoughts swirling about in that overworked brain of yours. I'm off to make my husband a very happy man. I suppose he'll be completely insufferable and demand I quit my job." Luna scrunched her shoulders, her eyes shining as if she didn't mind the fuss in the least. Hermione's mouth gaped open, her breaths short and harried until Luna poked her chest. "You on the other hand, have a preference for secrets. I won't spoil it for you, but you're incredibly stubborn. Always have been really, I don't know how Harry and Ron managed to put up with you. Two weeks, that's as long as I'll wait. After that I'll send a delicious Howler right to your home and scream it about like the loon everyone says I am." Luna bestowed a sweet quick kiss on Hermione's cheek and hurried from the loo.

Hermione blinked, taking a small step backward, her shoulders held still in large pale hands. Draco had crossed the room so quickly Hermione hadn't a moment to formulate the next thought. The intensity in his grey eyes constricted the breaths trapped beneath her ribs.

"That's not funny Nee." His strangled whisper barely broke the silence between them. Draco roughly shoved Hermione's hair off her face, forcing her to keep eye contact. "Why would you do that Nee? I can't…you…"

"I'm not joking. I wouldn't do that, not about this…not after everything." She was on the verge of tears; even Draco could see the obvious signs.

"Y-you're not joking. Y-you're serious. You mean…you…I…we." Draco ceased his sputtering, his hands dropping from her face as they were once more bathed in silence.

Hermione supposed she shouldn't have been so flippant, but trying to find the best moment to tell Draco amidst all the plans with her parents was much more difficult than she imagined. The flurry of Ministry weddings wasn't making things any easier. They were hard pressed to find a few scant moments alone these days. Hermione sighed, cursing herself for her spontaneity.

"Are you angry?"

"Are you sure?" Hermione caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. They shared a small smile upon speaking in unison, their words garbled together, overlapping in such a way they were unable to be properly understood.

Draco waved his hand, indicating Hermione should speak. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his fist and even in his silent but laboured breaths. Hermione was sure he could see her heart pounding out of her chest.

"Luna," She started slowly, carefully, her hands lightly trembling, "I didn't even suspect it. We were having a moment, a bonding moment if you will and she cast…a spell and here we are."

"The pumpkin juice." Draco sighed heavily in understanding, his fingers running through his unruly hair before stroking the pale stubble on his chin.

Hermione climbed into their four poster bed, suddenly incredibly tired. She didn't recline upon the plethora of pillows; instead she sat in the middle, waiting for Draco to process the information. She watched his head turn to and fro, his brows furrow and even mumblings under his breath before he finally spun to stare at her.

"Draco?" He was staring through her, which frightened her slightly.

She tried to patient, but it was difficult. Hermione stifled a yawn, which snapped Draco back to the present. She observed his Adam's apple bobbing, his tentative steps padding across the plush carpet and his starry gaze. Draco slowly climbed onto the bed. His thumbs wiped away the streaks of dried tears on her cheeks, his fingers tangled in her curls. He dropped his head to hers, silently, their breaths the only sound. He kissed her so gently, if she hadn't witnessed his lips descending on hers, she would have thought it was a dream.

"It's terrible timing, I know but…"

"Shhh love, it's alright. I don't care about timing…just let me savor this." Hermione fell back onto the mountain of plush pillows, dragging Draco down with her.

She giggled when he collapsed due to her unexpected maneuver and practically leapt from the bed. Hermione snagged his hand before he was out of range, giving him a bit of a yank. He fell hard onto his side, stunned. His mouth kept opening and closing but nary a word was released.

Hermione was slightly frustrated with his reaction. She expected shouts of jubilation which segued into a rather heated snogging session. Instead, Draco stared at her, almost in awe, his eyes never lingering in one place for too long until they settled on the slight round of her abdomen. He had always found a certain delight that Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Princess, the brightest witch of the bloody ages, was not perfect.

She hadn't noticed her blouse had ridden up and settled on her ribs until she followed his gaze. Hermione huffed loudly, tossed her arms over her head and closed her eyes. If he was determined to remain silent, then she was determined to nap. Hermione could feel the bed sinking as Draco adjusted his position. She could feel the gentle exhale of his breath beside her, until finally his cool palm danced down the front of her blouse to settle just below her navel.

"April?" The breath of his whisper tickled her skin and she flinched with the tiniest hint of a smile.

"If everything goes according to plan…yes, April." Draco sighed once more, resting his head upon her breast, his fingertips strumming her skin.

"I don't want to leave you now, Nee." Hermione rolled her eyes, expecting such theatrics. She completely understood his worry, but at the same time, she wished her parents to return. "What if something happens while I'm gone? I don't think I could bear it if…"

"You're going. You promised." Draco pretended he was unaware of the hard edge to her voice. He covered her body with his own, balancing himself on his elbows, even as she attempted to pull him down. "Stop, you're going to smush it." He struggled against her until she broke into peals of laughter.

"Malfoy, it's barely the size of a bogey, you can't bloody smush it." She laughed again and yanked his lips to hers.

"How would you know? It's not as if we've done this before!" Draco finally succumbed to the screaming of his ligaments and fell to his side, pulling Hermione into his chest. Hermione tossed her leg over his hip, reveling in the closeness.

"I've already arranged it with Luna. She's going to stay with me while you're away. I shouldn't be telling you this, but she's expecting as well. Considering she's a Healer as well as a potential mother, she'll be more attuned to my needs. I've already ordered Harry to bring his cell phone and I know you detest yours but…"

"You're really going to insist I go, aren't you?" Draco's hand sat comfortably in the gentle curve of her waist while he resisted the urge to ravish her.

"I'm not going to force you to do something you don't wish to do, not that I believe I have that sort of power over you regardless. I'm simply going to ask my husband, who is a very accomplished Auror, to escort Gregory Goyle to New South Wales so that he may perform a very complicated, powerful Charm to return my parents to me. Now if he chooses to remain home and disappoint his pregnant wife, well that's his decision I suppose." Hermione smiled sweetly and kissed his brow.

"No wonder Potter and Weaselbee bowed to your every command. You're bloody terrifying."

"Does this mean…"

"Yes, pregnant wife of mine, oh I like saying that, I'll go. I shan't like it, but I'll do it. Now I'm going to send a few owls and then I plan on shagging you until you can't move." Draco bound from the bed without waiting for a reply with a bounce in his step and a wide smile.

"My husband the romantic."