AN: Uhm, there's probably mistakes...so if they're blatant just lemme know. There's only so many times I can go through a chapter before it all sort of runs together. Oh yes my lovelies...don't forget, next chapter is a delicious serial killer chapter. Also..don't hate me too much, I'll make it up to you. Promise. *kisses*

Chapter 19 – Muggles in the Outback

"I still can't believe you sent everyone you know a bloody Howler."

"Shut it already, I'm sick of hearing about it. I was excited. I'm still excited. There's absolutely nothing wrong with sharing such emotions with your loved ones, friends and even you Potter."

"Yea, but a Howler Malfoy? You nearly scared James to death. I suppose I should thank you though. Stori dropped a platter of roast which saved me from eating it."

"Someday the Daily Prophet is going to run the banner: Boy-Who-Lived Killed by Roast. You really should stop attempting to eat her cooking. It'd be a terrible way to go, even for you."

"You're an arse, Malfoy."

"So I've been told Potter. Not even you can ruin this beautiful day. I'm going to be a fucking father."

"Yea, I know, I think all of bloody England heard those blasted Howlers, though I can just imagine the look on your father's face when it shouted at him. I bet that was a sight to behold."

While Harry was practicing 'constant vigilance', Draco mumbled under his breath something that sounded eerily similar to 'my father threatened to physically remove my bollocks', which Harry ignored. As much as he was enjoying giving Malfoy a bit of a hard time, it currently wasn't the place for such things.

"Did you tell her about her brother?" Harry amused himself while they sat in the car waiting for the rest of the team to arrive by barraging Malfoy with questions.

"I had planned on it, but time got away from me and with the baby, I didn't want to upset her." Draco tapped his wand against the closed window. It didn't matter how many times Potter told him not to, it amused him.

"I still can't believe you knocked up my best friend."

"Oi, you knocked up mine. Fair is fair, Potter."

"I hate you." Harry groaned. He didn't understand why Shacklebolt had decided they should take separate Portkeys. He swore the Minister for Magic was simply punishing him.

"Feeling's mutual, as always. Fuck how long much I sit in this infernal Muggle contraption?"

"It's a car, Malfoy."

"I know what it is, I simply dislike it." Draco attempted to stretch his long legs while trapped in the passenger seat of the compact vehicle and almost hit his chin with his knees.

"It's not like we can Apparate to their front door." Harry closed his eyes, mentally wrapping his fingers around a certain pale blonde's throat and shaking it…hard.

The two wizards ignored each other to the best of their ability in the small quarters, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry hoped James wasn't being Voldemort Incarnate for Astoria, yet considering his son was teething, Harry didn't have high hopes. Draco hoped Luna was incessantly plucking Hermione's aura if only because she would be required to sit still.

"When do you suppose it happened? Hermione's pregnancy I mean." Harry stared out the dirty window, watching a pickup truck make its way down the deserted road.

"I don't know. I hope it was the time she let me hang that mirror near the dining table. I tossed an entire bag of flour on that table, bent her over and…"

"FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN STOP!"

"You asked, Potter." Draco huffed, amusing himself by twirling his wand between his fingers.

"I meant, how far along do you think she is? Do you know? When is she due? Things of that nature, not which kinky position, you wanker." Harry smacked his head on the steering wheel, begging Goyle to arrive.

Cho Chang, Pansy Longbottom and Pada Patil were in the conveyance behind them and Harry hoped they were just as bored. He snickered remembering the wands pointed in Draco's general direction when he requested to have Padma replaced due to her condition.

"Condition? Condition? You've got some bloody nerve Malfoy. It's a Portkey, a patient analysis and loads of waiting around. If Blaise hadn't threatened the Minister with dismemberment, Luna would be accompanying the team." Padma Patil stabbed Draco Malfoy's chest with the tip of her wand, daring him to refute her.

"Yes, but I haven't a need for a Post-Mortem Healer, I requested an actual Healer. The sort who's used to dealing with the living. The fact you're toting around another Weasley barely has anything to do with the request."

"He insulted me, you heard him, didn't you Harry? He bloody well insulted me. I'll have you know Malfoy I'm just as qualified if not more so than your average Healer, you bastard. I understand we're to retrieve Hermione's parents, therefore I expect a ridiculous number of Aurors and what have youse in order to escort them back to England. I also expect that since you're an anal-retentive sort, I'll probably be one of the most protected witches ever to exist." Padma's dark eyes flashed, her long straight dark hair swinging gently while she tapped her wand to his chest. Draco knew he didn't have the hint of a prayer in dissuading her.

"Fine! I'm only leading the bloody team. No need to listen to my demands or anything. Parkinson, you're in charge of Patil." Draco growled low and steady, even as he shoved Padma's wand from his person. He spun on his heel in order to keep reign on his bubbling temper. "Bloody Gryffindors."

"Ravenclaw…"

"Still don't care!"

"I almost wish Goyle was still stupid."

"What the hell is wrong with you Malfoy?"

"Many things, but that's not the point. If Goyle were still stupid I could blame this insufferably long wait on his inability to properly hold onto a Portkey, or even he simply forgot what he was doing, or he got lost on the way to the loo…something, anything…"

"We arrived first so we could cast the Muggle Repellant Charms while they were inside. An hour or so later, Padma and Pansy arrived and you being a completely less than chivalrous prat demanded they procure their own car. Nott arrived an hour after that, though he was supposed to bring Pucey with him, but conveniently left him behind. You bloody Slytherins don't fool me for a moment. Therefore, Goyle should be arriving any moment, but Merlin only knows who is escorting him."

Draco sat up suddenly when he spied a slight woman exiting the side door of the modest home. Her dark hair was piled upon her head and Draco knew she was Hermione's mother simply from the arrogant upturn of her nose. She closed the door slowly, as if she were willing it to remain silent. She crept along the side of the house until she stood beside a ridiculous looking tree. Draco smirked in recognition when she pulled a cigarette from her inner pocket.

"I need a smoke." Draco decided, reaching for the door handle.

"What? You don't smoke." Draco's stomach made its displeasure immediately known and he smiled. With one hand on the door handle and the other shoving his wand into the pocket of his blazer, he wiggled his eyebrows at a confused Harry Potter.

Draco Malfoy of Wilshire England, only son and heir of Lord Malfoy of the House Malfoy and Lady Malfoy of House Black, expelled his gas the way a pureblood should; loudly, quickly and with an escape route in mind. He leapt from the vehicle, slamming the door, so as to trap the noxious fumes inside and locked the car with his wand. He tapped the window with glee dancing in his eyes.

"I do now. Suck on that, Potter."

Draco jaunted down the walk toward Monica Wilkins with a wide smile of satisfaction. Monica inhaled faster at the sight of the stranger until he held his hand up.

"Excuse me madam, I've been waiting for my friends for bloody hours and I was wondering if I could have a fag? I saw you there and the temptation was simply too much for me I'm afraid."

"Come around the side so my husband doesn't see us." Monica gestured to her small patch of shade and handed him a Muggle cigarette with a conspiratorial grin.

Draco honestly had no interest in smoking, but he supposed it was a fantastic conversation starter considering the circumstances.

"Thanks much." Draco leaned against the tree while searching Monica's face for a resemblance to his wife. There was something around the eyes, though hers were a deep blue and the colour of her hair, perhaps even the tilt of her chin and he nodded.

"What of your friend?" Monica gestured toward an obviously irate Harry Potter who it seemed was coughing spasmodically.

"Oh he doesn't smoke. It seems he's locked himself in the car." Monica's large blue eyes widened and for a moment, he was reminded of a house elf. "He's a bit of an imbecile. Don't worry about him, I certainly don't."

"You're British." She had a pleasant voice, he decided and nodded slowly.

"I am, sorry about that." Draco brushed the flopping strands from his forehead while watching Monica concentrate.

"It's alright. I think…I was British once. I have dreams sometimes…of a curly headed girl, which is silly really. I have a son you see. He's only just three." Monica frowned and Draco was having difficulty biting back the gasp of recognition.

"No, I don't think it's silly at all." He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and removed a photograph which he extended for Monica's viewing. "I have those sorts of dreams myself."

"She's a pretty girl." Monica fingered the photograph carefully, almost as if it would disappear beneath her ministrations.

"I think so as well. I think I'll keep her." Draco tried to remain detached while speaking with his mother-in-law but it was more difficult than he thought it would be.

"What's her name?" Monica never took her eyes from the photograph. It wasn't the most recent picture of Hermione he had, but it was one of his favourites.

He had discovered a Muggle camera in one of the many boxes Hermione had stored in one of the many closets near the Travel Room. He had bounded up the stairs, intrigued with his discovery constantly pushing the strange button on the top. Draco had held the contraption in front of his face and laughed when he spied Hermione in a paisley apron with a bit of flour on his nose. She had shouted at him, which had turned into a playful sort of fight with flour and tea towels. He had a series of the photographs mounted on the wall in his office and chose the one where she was laughing with a finger swipe of flour on her nose to carry with him.

"Hermione."

"Well isn't that funny? Huh, I feel quite conflicted about that and I don't understand why exactly. That's strange isn't it?" Monica abruptly shoved the picture into Draco's hand and shook her head.

"What's your son's name?" Draco changed the subject quickly. He wasn't sure how strong the Memory Charm his wife had originally performed was, but he didn't wish to job her memory without Goyle on hand.

"Wendell, that's my husband, we argued for months first. He's always had an unhealthy obsession with mythology. Oh, I suppose that's why the photograph of your lovely wife made me feel a bit off. Wendell, you see was quite determined to name our child Hermione if it were a girl. Of course I objected, the poor girl would be mocked incessantly, wouldn't you wager? It doesn't matter now, we have a beautiful little boy and I finally relented, allowing Wendell to name him Troy." Monica Wilkins blushed furiously upon realising she had insulted the nice young's man wife in a most roundabout fashion.

Draco snorted with laughter. Hermione's mother was a bit of a pip and it was obvious her father had named the poor girl. He wondered if she was aware while he surreptitiously waved his wand, finally freeing Harry Potter.

"Oh look! Your friend has finally managed to free himself. Isn't that lovely?" Harry gestured wildly which Draco interpreted to mean Harry wished him to get back into the vehicle. Draco ignored him and sat on the hard ground, fingering the sparse grass.

"How'd you meet your husband?" He almost kicked himself for asking such a question, but it wasn't often he held pleasant conversations with Muggles. Monica adjusted her beige slacks, tucked an errant piece of dark hair behind her ear and sat beside him.

"He bumped into me in a book store. I know it's not very romantic, but that's alright. I couldn't reach the book on the top most shelf and he took it down for me and knocked me off my feet quite literally. He helped me up and said 'Hello pretty, my name is Paris, come along then for a spot of tea.' I couldn't very well snub the poor bloke. When I told him my name is Helen, he proposed in the middle of the tea shop declaring he'd never find another woman as perfect for him as me." Monica laughed heartily in the moments before gripping her head in pain. "No, that's not right. That can't be right. My name is Monica…my husband is Wendall and we've always wanted to live in Australia…" Monica Wilkins stroked her forehead with the tips of her fingers, her smile wavering.

Draco was lost. He wasn't sure what the proper etiquette is for comforting a stranger-cum-mother-in-law when she hadn't the least idea who he is to her. He settled for awkwardly patting one of her hands and motioned for Harry to approach.

"Malfoy, Goyle's here." Harry was obviously uncomfortable but Monica paid him no mind. She sniffed and crinkled her nose in such a way Draco couldn't help but to think of Hermione.

"I know he's a bit addled, but the poor boy could be taught to bathe, couldn't he?"

"Monica? Do we have guests?" Harry glared murderously at a highly amused Draco Malfoy while Wendell Wilkins hollered from the front door.

He was a tall man and while Draco wasn't the least bit intimidated, he was slightly impressed with the man's size. The curly mop of dirty blond hair told him exactly where his wife got her unruly curls and his soft brown eyes were wary but not unfriendly. He smiled at his wife and Draco knew he was asking her silent questions.

"It's fine, dear. It seems these gentlemen are a bit lost and they're waiting for their mates to meet up. I believe there's a few more in that car over there? Perhaps we should invite them to tea?" Monica chewed her bottom lip and even Harry showed mild surprise at the action.

Wendell looked as though he would balk at the very suggestion. He quirked his eyebrow while studying the young men with a practiced eye. He opened his mouth and Harry thought Hermione's father would object to their presence until he saw Monica. Her small hands were on her hips, legs akimbo and Harry knew Wendell never stood a chance.

"I believe Troy is caterwauling. Bring along your new friends." Wendell sighed and pulled on his dark blond curls in obvious frustration.

"This is strange isn't it? It's not just me?" Harry whispered to Draco while they waited patiently for the girls to join them.

"I'm frightened Potter, hold me."

"You can fuck right off." Harry Potter shouted in shock and pain when Monica Wilkins slapped his shoulder with such force he stumbled.

"You might be a bit touched but there's never a need for such language!"

"That's right Monica, you tell him." Harry snarled at the smug Draco Malfoy nodding behind Monica Wilkins with his arms crossed.

The unlikely group followed Monica into the yellow house in silence. Draco allowed Harry to take the lead during introductions. He wasn't interested in idle mundane chatter. He was mesmerized by the dark haired curly boy with the bright blue eyes who had attached himself to Draco's leg.

"Hi! You big. I lil. I fwee." Troy Wilkins clapped his hands with excitement and the light bulbs exploded in a fantastic blinding rainbow of colour. "Oops mummy. I dood it 'gain." Troy giggled as only a toddler could before his short little legs carried him at a spectacular velocity down the corridor.

Draco looked to Harry and realised he was glad Hermione had chosen him for this task. Harry was absolutely dumbfounded. He slowly lowered himself to an orange and brown floral sofa, completely speechless. Chang, Parkinson-Longbottom and Patil sat at a small dining table sipping piping cups of tea and pretending they were elsewhere.

"Uhm, that sort of thing happen a lot then?" Draco cleared his throat nervously, unsure how to venture forward. He actually had never seen a Muggle child or any child for that matter; display such blatant magical ability at such a young age.

"That's why you're really here isn't it? I wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. Dumbledore didn't visit us until she received her letter you see." Monica sighed heavily, sinking into a rocking chair in the corner of the bright yellow living area.

"She keeps going on about that, I haven't the slightest idea to what she's referring but its best not to argue with her." Wendell offered Draco a glass of scotch, on the rocks no less, which he hastily accepted.

"I wouldn't worry about it, sir. I was quite familiar with Albus Dumbledore. I'm sorry to have to be the one to inform you that he's passed. It was a few years ago, hence why we're here instead of him." Draco almost nodded, quite pleased with himself, but managed to maintain a somber expression. He sipped his scotch, lifting his glass in appreciation.

"I always thought she was a bit barmy. These things only started happening after we got into quite a row about naming Troy. Lovely scotch isn't it? Single malt, 12 years, not too young, not too old, quite a bit like Goldilocks if I say so myself." Draco hadn't the slightest idea who this Goldilocks person was, but he decided it was best to simply smile and nod.

When Draco realised that Harry Potter was going to continue to be as useless as he ever was, he began to speak. Monica and Wendell hung on his every word as he spun them a tale of witches, wizards and magic. He spoke slowly and carefully, avoiding even a mention of the war. At some point during the one sided conversation, little Troy had climbed into his lap, determined to bounce himself into oblivion. Draco didn't mind, even when Troy repeatedly poked his nose.

"Are you going to take him?" Monica asked the moment Draco had finished speaking. The question surprised him, caught him off guard even and he struggled to answer.

"Why…I don't…" The sharp rap on the door interrupted his stammering and while he was immensely grateful he was also quite perturbed with Harry Potter. What the hell was the point of coming along on a mission if the intention was to do fuck-all?

Monica wrung her hands, the sound of skin brushing against skin somehow soothing in the air of tension. Wendell strode forward quite quickly, his Muggle jeans swishing to answer the door. Draco almost groaned when he saw a nervous Gregory Goyle standing in full wizard robes, having the audacity to hold his wand as if it were natural.

"Oi, Goyle, where the fuck have you been eh?" Pansy Parkinson Longbottom shouted across the intimate setting. "We've been here for ages waiting on you lot. Where's your bloody escort? You're a right mess aren't you? Some things never change I suppose. Hurry up then, I've delayed my honeymoon for this." Pansy had given up on the pretense of playing Muggle and warmed her tea using her wand, which earned her a stern look from Harry. She half raised her shoulder in defiance before returning to the other girls.

"It was a right mess. I missed my portkey, lost my escort and wound up in Sydney instead of Liverpool. I'm here now aren't I?" Greg sighed and after nodding toward Wendell simply sat beside Harry.

"I'm surrounded by imbeciles." Troy bounced on Draco's knee, clapping his hands and tea cups leapt off the table to smash to the floor.

"Dupit!" Troy pointed at Greg and laughed until it turned into squeals.

"Did that little bastard just call me stupid?" It was amusing to see something as complex as incredulousness pasted on Gregory Goyle's face and yet it happened just the same.

"Oi. Goyle, don't insult the boy. He's not bloody wrong. Parkinson, check the wards. Potter, go with her as it's obvious you're doing a fat lot of good here. Chang, wipe the premises of magical signature and clean up the bloody glass, it's dangerous. Patil, give Monica and Wendell a once over, I rather prefer we know they're in proper health before having Goyle remove the Charm." Draco sat Troy on his hip while he surveyed the living space with a practiced eye.

He didn't know how much space of time Goyle would need, but he knew the wizard would prefer to do his job without an audience. Troy manipulated Draco's cheeks, amusing himself but refusing to let go of the blonde. He didn't mind as much as he thought he should.

"I don't understand what's going on exactly, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm going to trust you. I've never seen Troy so taken with anyone, not even us and that says something." Wendell sat where he was directed, perching himself on the edge of the hideous floral sofa Harry Potter had vacated.

"I appreciate that Wendell and I sincerely hope your feelings on the matter do not change. Goyle, you're up. I'm going to take Troy here to the kitchen, perhaps I'll find some biscuits for him and we'll have a bit of a chat. Will it take long?" Draco didn't mind the sticky fingerprints decorating the front of his light blue button down nor the chubby toddler fingers tugging on his hair.

"Well, it seems they've been properly prepped. Shouldn't take but a few moments, but I could use a few Pain Potions. They might be necessary. I've read quite a few studies and even witnessed firsthand how painful the return of memories can be." Goyle mopped his forehead sloppily with the sleeve of his robe, breathing deeply.

"I didn't know you could read." Draco winked and carried Troy into the small kitchen.

"That's still not funny, Malfoy. Hello, I haven't been properly introduced, but my name is Gregory Goyle and I've been sent here to aid you. I don't know how much you've been told about the wizarding world, but no matter. A few years ago a special spell was performed on you both before you relocated to Australia and it's my job to reverse the effects. There's nothing to be afraid of, you shouldn't feel a thing. Of course there is a small chance of some adverse side effects such as disorientation and headache but that can be fixed right as rain with the application of a simple Potion. All you need to do is relax."

Monica and Wendell Wilkins looked at each other and then the nervous wizard who was sweating profusely. They were ill at ease, but it seemed they didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Their hands unconsciously sought each other along the floral pattern until they were gripping each other tight.

"In mente ergo habe." Gregory Goyle swished and flicked his wand in the air around them, in such a practiced manner; they relaxed as the air swirled with magic. "Memento quaeso. Memento quod omnia in pace."*

The Wilkins gasped; their knuckles white even as their breaths became laboured. The air around them flickered with the smallest of blue lights while in their minds eye was a picture show of flashing images until they closed their eyes from the brunt of it all. Greg levitated them to their bedroom easily, praying to Merlin he'd managed to perform the spell properly. It wasn't the words which were the issue, it was the complicated spell work, the likes of which he'd never seen which worried him the most. He supposed now it was simply a matter of waiting and patience was never one of his strong points.

It was quite easy for him to settle into the armchair nearest the kitchen and relax his eyes for a moment. He smiled while listening to the tinkling of a child's laughter melded with Draco Malfoy's laughter. He'd never heard his old friend truly laugh before and Greg decided it was a sound he could get quite used too.

"I brought this book of pictures for your parents. See here, that's your big sister. D'ya know how you make the lights go boom? Yea? Your sister can do things like that too. It's called magic. You'll learn all about it." Troy pointed to each picture of Hermione with a big smile, simply repeating 'girl' until he'd gone through the book at least twice.

Finally, the youngster curled into Draco's side and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Draco watched Troy's long eyelashes brush his chubby cheeks as he took long blinks. It wasn't but a few moments later that he was sound asleep.

"Do you think they're alright? Do you think Greg managed to perform the Charm properly? What are the side effects, do you know? What happens if it's performed improperly? Will they be transported to St. Mungo's? They've already been gone three days, what could possibly be taking so long? What if they don't wish to return? Do you think Malfoy would take me to meet them? Oh gods, what if they hate me?"

"Hermione, if you don't bloody well shut up I'm going to Silence you simply for a bit of peace of mind. I deserve some peace of mind after listening to you blather about." Luna Zabini tossed a throw pillow at Hermione's face on the four poster bed.

Luna had been quite excited to spend a few days with another witch, but after attempting to calm an incessantly worrying Hermione Malfoy, she was definitely having second thoughts to her euphoria. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Hermione's company, normally she did. Hermione had proved to be quite a good friend in the years following the war, but it seemed the young witch had never learned how to enhance her calm. She fretted, worried her lip into oblivion and paced until she fell into bed with exhaustion. Luna had forced Hermione to eat, rest and even have sporadic sips of tepid tea all to no avail. The questions never seemed to stop and while valid points were made, Luna simply wished to sleep.

"That's not very nice, Luna." Hermione huffed, pouting slightly as she tried to find a comfortable position in the overly large bed. It wasn't the same without Draco beside her and the scent of his skin filled her senses to the point of overload. Luna had suggested changing the sheets, but of course Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"I'm out of sorts. I'm not feeling particularly well. It seems Blaise Zabini's spawn wishes me to revisit every morsel which has ever laid upon my tongue." Luna punched Hermione's pillow and drew the light coverlet over her nightgown clad body.

"I've found a bit of ginger tea before I even get out of bed does the trick. I'll ask Dink to bring us some in the morning." Hermione removed Draco's dress shirt from beneath the pillow, rubbing it against her cheek.

She knew it was a bit pathetic to miss him so when he'd barely been gone, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want to help it. She'd never felt so completely consumed by another person before. Hermione had always prided herself on being and remaining in control. She'd lost herself in the moment a few times and almost smiled at the memory of yellow canaries chasing a screaming Ron Weasley. Draco Malfoy made her feel as if she'd never had control of anything. He settled her in a way she'd never thought possible and she reveled in it.

Sometimes she wondered what her mum would think of such things. Her mum was determined her daughter would be a strong independent woman and yet there she was, sniffing her husband's shirt as if she were a lovesick teen. If her teenage self could see her now she'd be snorting in derision while silently berating her for losing herself in someone else.

"You're thinking much too loud." Luna's wispy voice broke through the pitch with a weary sigh.

"I can't sleep."

"Here." While Hermione had been huffing, sighing, tossing and turning, Luna had transfigured one of the throw pillows into a fluffy stuffed dog. "Take that bloody shirt you're sniffing and put it on the dog. It's not perfect, but it helps. I do it often when Blaise is away on business."

Hermione quickly complied, having learned during the first hours of Luna's stay it was better not to argue with the witch. Luna didn't necessarily have a temper, but she spoke in such a way one was always just the slightest bit of afraid of what she would do. It was better to comply.

She curled herself around the stuffed animal with closed eyes and slow deep breaths. Hermione hadn't realised she had begun to cry until she felt Luna's hand on her back, rubbing small circles of comfort. She fell asleep with the scent of her husband and a small hand on her back.

Draco arrived at Forest Lake the next morning with a heavy heart, toting a sleeping toddler. He hadn't expected everything to fall apart as quickly as it had. He didn't understand it, not really. Hermione's parents had seemed like delightful people, though he'd be the first to admit he didn't know much when it came to Muggles.

The moment Monica Wilkins awoke, she was furious. She had refused to answer to Helen Granger; therefore they were forced to continue calling her Monica. She had yelled, screamed, and thrown things until finally she slapped Harry with such force he required a Potion. Draco was a bit terrified of her and wondered if she wasn't mental.

"I never wanted children in the first place. It wasn't bad enough I got saddled with him right when I thought my life was to be easier, no; I have a daughter as well. She's married a bloke who seems pleasant enough which is lovely for her, I suppose, but what of me? She embraced that bloody magical world and forgot everything we instilled in her. As if that wasn't enough, a madman decided she wasn't magical enough and because of that madman she stole our lives. What now exactly? I'm simply supposed to return to England as if nothing ever happened? Am I supposed to forgive her? Is that it? Apparently my son is magical as well? Delightful. I suppose another madman will decide he shouldn't exist either? Our choices in the matter were stripped away from us as if we were naughty children being sent to our rooms without dinner. How dare she? Don't even ask me, the answer is no. I don't wish to see her. I'm quite furious and I don't imagine that changing soon. Paris, say something." Monica, Helen, whatever she wished to call herself was red faced, sweating and absolutely seething.

"Mr. Malfoy, I must commend you for taking care of our daughter. I'm still attempting to reconcile the fact I have a daughter, but I feel the need to thank you anyway. My wife isn't a bad woman. She's not a maternal woman of that I've always been certain and I never expected her to change. She didn't. I'm not well suited to being a father. I'm harsh and I haven't the patience required. I tried and I would have continued to try for both of them." Paris Granger paused, shaking his head slowly as his wife slammed their bedroom door, obviously finished with the conversation. "Helen has a history of mental illness. Not the hereditary sort, the kind which stems from trauma. I suppose when Hermione removed our memories, she also removed the trauma. However, things are different now. It wouldn't be safe for Troy to remain with us. I need to focus on her and getting her well, unless of course, I can convince you to remove her memories once more. She was happy then. She was well and I'll cherish those memories. I want you to take Troy. You'll be good to him. You'll raise him the way he should be raised. You'll teach him of an entire world we never even knew existed. You'll love him and he's quite fond of you. He was never quite as affectionate with us and I suppose that's our fault. I would expect you to think poorly of me, of us and I wouldn't fault you for it. I wouldn't fault you in the least." Paris ruffled Troy's hair and Draco was thankful he had thought to put a Silencing Charm around the boy. No child should hear their parents speak of them in such a manner.

"I can't remove your memories. I understand the request and I'm not saying no. I simply…I need to discuss it with Hermione first." Draco's hands shook, which he hid along the creases in Troy's blue and green striped shirt.

"I'd like to…visit her. I can't guarantee I'll stay or even change my mind, but I'd like to see her, to explain. She deserves that much. I'm sorry if I seem rude, but would you mind leaving? I need to phone a few facilities for Monica er Helen. I know exactly how this goes. She'll rant a bit and then she'll succumb to the pain of the past. It'll be better if Troy never has to experience such a thing." Draco hugged the child tighter, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

"W-what should I tell him? Surely he'll ask about…"

"Tell him…tell him he's better off. Tell him nothing if you like. Tell him everything. Tell him we've died. Make something up. It doesn't matter, not anymore. It's alright to think badly of me…to think badly of her. I've always loved her, you see. I can't imagine my world, my life without her. I'd do anything for her and as for Troy? I'd do anything to protect him from her, even if that means letting him go." Paris Granger gazed sadly at his son before spinning on his heel and walking down the corridor to his wife. Draco Malfoy watched carefully, but Paris never looked back.

When Hermione awoke she was only certain of two things. The sun was shining and there was a small hand on her stomach. She thought she was dreaming. She couldn't imagine a single scenario where a small hand would be gently patting her abdomen with a sing-song sort of babble. She was vaguely aware of heavy breathing beside her and assumed Luna was still sleeping. She opened one eye, squinting against the sunlight to see a curly haired toddler calmly sitting between her and Luna. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, her breath quickening until she heard the deep tell tale chuckle of her husband.

"Hey…be nice." Hermione wasn't used to hearing Draco's voice so soft and kind. Luna grunted, rolling away from her and she thought perhaps the child had patted her a touch too hard.

"Baby." Hermione felt the small hand gently tapping. "Baby." She opened her eyes, focusing on the child. His head was swiveling between her and Luna.

"Good morning, love." Draco leaned over Hermione and kissed her forehead, yet she could see the worry in his eyes.

Hermione pushed her curls off her face and struggled to sit up against the ornately carved headboard. Troy, being the inquisitive child he is had no qualms when it came to climbing into her lap and resting his head against her breast. His chubby little fingers were tangled in her hair and Hermione hadn't the heart to remove him from her person.

"Uhm, Malfoy, I already told you we were having a child; there was no need to steal one." He knew she was attempting to put him at ease and he loved her for it, desperately. "So, who does this little one belong too?"

Troy picked up his head and patted her cheek. Hermione couldn't help but smile at him and in return received a sloppy kiss on the corner of her mouth. He snuggled into her as if it were second nature and fisted the front of her ivory nightgown. Her arms naturally came around him, one under his bum, the other rubbing small circles on his back while she gazed upon Draco.

"Us." Draco clapped his hand over his mouth in disbelief. He had a careful speech planned, complete with pros and cons to cater to the logical ways of his wife's mind, yet when the moment was upon him he burst as if he were a child with a delicious secret.

"Y-you're…you're serious, aren't you?" Hermione closed her eyes, wishing she was in the midst of dream from which she could not wake, yet as she listened to the steadied breathing upon her, she knew it was reality.

"Nee, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I had a list of pros and cons and a very good explanation but I just…" Draco dragged Hermione's vanity chair to her side of the bed. He perched on the edge of it and pulled one of her hands into his.

"You forgot to think before you speak. It's alright Malfoy; I'm quite used to it. Would you care to explain?"

Draco nodded slowly, keeping her hand firmly in his as the words became to pour from between his quivering lips. He didn't wish to be the one to tell her that her parents would not return. He didn't want to be the one to tell her of her mother's swift demise. He did however enjoy telling her of Troy, her baby brother and the quick attachment he had formed to the child. Draco presented a small packet of parchment and laid them across her legs.

"Your father, he isn't a bad man. I can't judge him harshly for his decision to stand beside your mother. I can't say I wouldn't do the same if some sort of affliction were to tear our growing family apart. I must say, your father does have an unhealthy obsession with the mythological world. Paris, Helen, Hermione and Troy, my word wouldn't that be a lovely story? He's a good kid, Nee. He's family and…"

"Malfoy, I'm not going to turn him away. It's simply…how are we going to do this? Can we do this? What do we tell him? Does he know who I am? I…" Troy sat up suddenly, rocking against Hermione's bladder and she winced with discomfort.

Draco easily lifted the boy, placing him on his knee with a broad smile. Hermione was feeling a bit conflicted, which was to be expected. She hadn't truly believed she would have a happy family union, yet there was a small part of her which had hoped. Secretly she despised the longings of her inner child, still palpating over the idea of a mother's loving embrace.

She had always known her mother was a tad unstable. It was impossible to remain unaware with her childhood. Hermione had always clung to the ideal that her mother had loved her, truly loved her and it was simply her affliction which caused her to be so harsh. It was exceedingly difficult for her to listen to the softly murmured words. It was painful to discover she had been nothing more than an inconvenience, but she was Hermione Granger, she would rise above such things.

"Da, eat." Troy patted Draco's face, his stubby little legs kicking furiously.

"I used to call my father Da when I was small. He's really gotten attached you, hasn't he?" Troy leapt off Draco's lap, landing heavily on Hermione's legs to crawl across her. He amused himself by stroking Luna's hair while Hermione was amazed the witch was still sleeping.

"He's the reason I took a bit longer before heading home. I don't…I don't think your parents were…particularly attentive? He hasn't cried. He hasn't asked for them, not even once. He refused to sleep in bed by himself at the inn. He put up a bit of a fuss but the moment I put him in my bed he just…he curled into my side, patted my face, said 'ni ni da' and went directly to sleep. I didn't have the heart to tell him any different."

"Affection wasn't particularly high on my parent's list of priorities. I suppose my subconscious always knew they didn't want me. My father wasn't particularly patient and he was always more concerned with my mother than anything. She'd been through a lot you see. I never got the particulars and as a small child I didn't care. My grandparents had passed away when she was young and she went to live with distant cousins. It's all she ever said about it, but it must have been bad. I remember her screaming in her sleep and she hated to be touched. It was almost as if it were truly revolting. My father told me once she never held me when I was a baby and it didn't surprise me. I just thought…if I worked hard and was always my very best, maybe one day she'd love me. I thought if my mum could love me then my dad could as well, but I was wrong. I shouldn't have sought to remove the Charm. They were better off." Hermione drew her knees up under the coverlet, her eyes vacant.

"Nee, where would that leave Troy? Doesn't he deserve to feel loved? He's magical, did I tell you that? We could keep him. It's not as if we don't have the means…"

"I can't very well argue with that, now can I? I suppose we should get him a bit of breakfast and take him to Diagon Alley. We haven't the necessities and he'd quite enjoy it I'm sure." Hermione smoothed Troy's unruly curls before climbing from the bed. Draco held her tight, breathing her in and kissed her hard. "Troy Malfoy is absolutely horrid. Paris and Helen Granger should never be allowed to have nor name another child for the rest of their pathetic lives."

"Have I told you how much I love you?" His lips brushed her earlobe evoking a shiver and if Luna and Troy had not been present, Draco was certain he would have ravished her.

"Should we change his name? Isn't that a little extreme?" Hermione pulled back slightly to kiss the tip of his nose and look into those familiar and comforting pools of grey.

"He doesn't answer to his name anyway, so I don't think it matters." Hermione extricated herself from the safety and warmth of Draco's arms and picked Troy up from the four poster bed.

"What's his middle name then? Mother had a penchant to only referring to me as Jean to irritate my father. She probably hated my name more than I did." Hermione shrugged as it didn't matter a bit, but Draco had a sneaking suspicion she was burying yet another difficult emotion.

"Alexander." Draco unbuttoned his rumpled light blue dress shirt, intending to shower off the grime of travel.

"Alex? Xan? Xander?" Hermione tapped Troy's chin until she sensed some sort of response.

"Me!" He shouted, his legs swinging once more.

"Xander it is. Well, that's simple enough. I'm going to get him a spot to eat and send up a tray for Luna. You need to shower and dress. I suppose you're expecting me to have some sort of mental breakdown, but I haven't the time for such things now do I? We've got a little one to care for and it seems he requires a touch of spoiling. I'll sign the papers and I'm counting on you to handle the rest. Glad you're home, Draco. I missed you." Draco stared in wonder as he watched Hermione settle Xander on her hip and whisked from the bedroom with murmurs amid the sound of a child's laughter.

Hermione thought her heart would burst into a million pieces of pleasure while she fed Xander tidbits of waffles smeared with strawberry jam. She was sure she was quite a fright, but it didn't matter. He was such a happy child, despite the circumstances of his upbringing.

"Eat it." She dutifully opened her mouth to accept the dollop of jam Xander shoved between her lips. "Baby eat it." She laughed when he took the spoon and jammed her navel.

"Did Da tell you about the baby?" She stirred her peppermint tea with one hand, the other holding a wriggling Xander still. He shook his head vehemently, his dark curls flying. He jumped off her lap and before she could stop him, he ran into the sitting room.

Xander was spinning in circles, his chubby cheeks scrunched into a large smile and his dark curls flying. His pants were a bit too short and his green and blue striped shirt was a bit too big, but he was obviously thrilled with life and she didn't have the heart to ruin it. When he stopped spinning, he giggled with glee, shaky on his bare feet. He smiled at her, shrugging his shoulders to the point his neck almost disappeared and then he clapped his hands.

Hermione gasped, instantly stretching forward to pull Xander into her arms as the flames in the fireplace roared to life, scorching the brick and the abstract paintings decorating the walls crashed to the floor.

"Uh oh. I dood it. Sowy" Xander hung his head, tears glistening in his blue eyes as he shrunk away from Hermione. She gasped while realising it was almost as if he expected to be struck.

"It's alright baby. Accidents happen. It's called magic, look and see." Hermione winked and with a wave of her wand, flung open the heavy draperies allowing the sunlight to flow in. She then transfigured one of the decorative pillows into a teddy bear and made it kiss his cheek.

"Otay?" His bottom lip continued to tremble until Hermione nodded with encouragement. He had slowly backed away from her and Hermione had allowed it, not wishing to scare him further. It was her smile which ceased his retreat.

"We love magic here, Xander." He little legs carried him as fast as he could go across the hardwood floor until he crashed into her legs, his little shoulders shaking with sobs entirely too large for a child his age."It's ok, you're alright." Hermione rubbed his back, holding him close until he began to hiccup from the effort of simply breathing.

"What happened? Is he alright?" Draco had dashed down the stairs in a whirlwind of motion, leaving his clean crisp shirt unbuttoned.

"He did a bit of magic and it scared him, that's all."

"Aw Xander, don't be sad. We do magic all the time, isn't that right Nee?" The pitter patter of Hermione's heart surged into raucous thumps as she watched him interact with the toddler in an obvious paternal fashion. He was a natural, even she had to admit that and it was beautiful.

"No Nee, Mum-mum." Draco kissed both their brows as the empty space in his heart was slowly filled with a love he hadn't known existed.

The Floo roared to life and Astoria Potter stumbled out, the soot clinging to her cheeks as the raging tears ran rivulets down her face.

"I'm sorry. I know it's…it's only f-for emergencies it's just…" Astoria took a ragged breath, her hands clutched together between her breasts. "Shacklebolt. K-Kingsley s-sent a-a Patronus. T-there's been another and Harry isn't back yet and…"

*Remember then. Remember now. Remember it all in peace.