I don't own it, make no money here (or anywhere else, really), and J.K. owns it all.

AN: Oh, just another two or three now, definitely. :) Enjoy it. I'm listening to McFly's All About You a lot lately. Helps encourage the happy ending along. ;)

The phone rang and Hermione stared at it glumly from her place on the sofa. Go away, she thought. And after ten rings it did.

She laid her head back and massaged her temples. From outside came the sound of construction on the new barn. She'd decided to compromise and build it with a combination of good old fashioned elbow grease (and a good contractor), and magic of her own. The book George had sent was easy to understand and the spell work wasn't beyond her, now that she was using magic again. She still needed to do something about getting a new wand, though.

Using Ron's wore at her, especially now that she had the burden of a pregnancy to consider. It was very strange, to be surrounded by constant reminders of her two lovers, after all.

The phone began ringing again and she finally stood up and stomped over to it, picking it up.

"Hello?" she growled and heard Ginny's voice.

"Hermione, I've been trying to reach you since last night."

"I was busy," Hermione replied haughtily.

Ginny was quiet for a moment.

"Are you mad at me, Hermione?"

"I-" She sighed, feeling torn and tired. "No, Gin. I'm sorry. This is a lot for me to deal with, though. The answers aren't exactly easy ones. I heard the phone yesterday and I know I should have picked up. You must have been worried."

"Not more so than usual," Ginny replied and Hermione could hear the smile in her voice. "Are you ready to talk to Harry about things yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Ginny, I really don't think-"

"Hermione, you need to hear what he has to say. Or at least let me tell you."

Hermione gave a short laugh. "He doesn't want to talk to me, either, does he?'

"He might be shaking his head right now," Ginny admitted wryly. "Are you very upset with him, too?"

"I don't know, Ginny. He had a right to do what he did. And so did Draco and Lucius. They must have felt worse over the entire episode than I thought. But all that's behind us now. I have to try-"

"If you say you have to try and make it alone, or move forward, or something else stupid like that, I'll scream," Ginny informed her. "Things don't have to be that way."

"But, Ginny, he left! They both did, of their own free will. And there's no way they can come back now."

"They can. Well, Draco can, at least," Ginny went on. "Harry had them pardoned."

Hermione felt the breath leave her. "But- how?"

"Just like he said," Ginny replied. "Because of the fire. And he's just waiting on you to say the word so he can get in touch with his contact for them."

Hermione was silent for several seconds and Ginny asked if she was still there.

"I'm here," she replied. "Ginny…even if they're pardoned, they can't come back. Not as themselves."

"Well, Lucius couldn't, definitely," Ginny replied. "But I was talking with Harry about it and judging from the sort of shape he was in, he might not want to, anyhow. Not that Harry really knows how they're doing now. But Draco- look, why don't you just talk to Harry-"

And she handed the phone off before Hermione could protest.

"Hermione?" Harry sounded extremely tentative and Hermione felt her bristles fade. She closed her eyes.

"Hi, Harry. I guess…you'd better tell me what all this is about."

"Right. First I need to apologize, though. It was wrong of me, Hermione-"

"No," she interrupted. "Don't waste any time on apologies. You did what you thought you needed to and so did they. I'm just…I already told Ginny, it's hard to deal with and would have been, even if things had been different. I don't think you quite understand how it feels, Harry," she went on in a softer voice. "After eight years of thinking I'd never have children, that my life could never be normal in that way…it made me feel less of a woman, somehow.

"Which is silly, I know," she said. "But I'd wanted all those things with Ron, you see….and I'd been coming to terms with it slowly. I'd even thought that if I never adopted, at least I'd have the therapy children. So now, after years of trying to make peace, to have it all back…it's been a shock. But it's not your fault," she ended firmly. "So don't think of it that way. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me."

"Alright, Hermione," he murmured. "I won't. But will you be alright, now?"

"What's 'alright?'" she asked. "I haven't known that for a long time. But I think I'll manage, somehow. Now, tell me what it is you've done."

"Ok. Ginny told you about the pardon-"

"Yes."

"Well, when Draco left that day he made his escape immediately."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there was no Draught of Living Death, no morgue, no false reports. Because we technically filed all those the day after the fire."

"I don't understand, Harry. How-" She stopped, took a few deep breaths. "Zabini."

"You always were the smart one," Harry said.

"So you used his corpse as Draco, which was why Draco supposedly couldn't come to the funeral. And the team of witches and wizards who kept coming by the house…"

"Were all my people, yeah," Harry finished for her. "You've already guessed about the closed casket, I figure, but on paper, at least, in the eyes of the ministry, Draco died days before his father."

"Harry, I don't see that this changes anything-"

"It does," he replied. "Easily. We set Zabini in the remains of the fire, so he was unrecognizable. It won't be difficult, when Draco comes back, to say that it was just a passing vagrant who died and not Malfoy. Especially since I basically wrote that it was a vagrant who started the barn fire in the first place."

"Harry!" Hermione was stunned. "You were planning for something like this all along, weren't you?" She somehow couldn't believe it. It was so…sneaky of him. And far too good to be true.

"I knew you loved him," he said simply. "It was plain for anyone to see. And I knew his going away would hurt you, might hurt you more terribly than it helped him. So when the opportunity arose to give him a way back, I took it."

"But you were vehement about it being final," she murmured. "I heard you two, sometimes. You wanted him gone-"

"Only as long as it was best. And it isn't best anymore. I'm not sure it ever was best, now. But that can't be helped. He has a way back now and I need to know if you want him to take it."

"But Lucius…" she murmured weakly.

"We'll deal with that later. It will all depend on what they have to say."

"We don't know that he'll even want to come back," Hermione said, but her protests sounded half hearted, even to her ears, and her heart was beating fast, was beating at all. She felt wildly alive and full of hope…but something stopped her.

"Harry," she said, "I don't…want you to tell him about- well, about the baby. It's early right now and anyway, I don't want him to feel an obligation to come back. What if he's happy right now? What if this messes things up for him?"

"Hermione," Harry began seriously, "I think I can safely promise you that he'll want to come back, whether I tell him about the baby or not. But I do think it's unfair-"

"And what they did to me is fair?"

Harry was silent.

"Look, I know he needs to know, be told. But I won't let it be the reason he comes back. That's my decision. Tell him whatever else you want, but don't you dare mention-"

"He has the right to know," Harry said quietly. "You know he does."

Hermione pressed her lips together, tried to quell her racing heart. "I know. Just…this is my choice, now. I wish you'd let me have it. If he- if they're both allowed to determine what's best for me, then I'm allowed to do the same at least once. Please, Harry."

More minutes passed and Hermione finally heard Harry sigh.

"Alright, Hermione. It's your decision. I'll make sure they're contacted within the next day. But I don't-"

"Like this," Hermione finished for him. "Yeah, I know. Thank you, Harry."

Harry murmured a gruff "You're welcome," and made his goodbyes before handing the phone back to Ginny, who demanded to know what was going on. When Hermione told her, she didn't like it any better than Harry had. But she understood.

"Just take care of yourself and the farm," she finally said. "And Harry and I will be sure to come this weekend for a visit. Sirius even asked if he might come, too. Said he had a proposition for you about your therapy. How would that be?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's fine, though I can't imagine what he thinks he can offer. Thank you for calling, Ginny."

"Of course. You're my best friend," Ginny replied and Hermione felt somewhat comforted.

But once she'd replaced the phone and gone out to the back porch, where she stood and watched the workers in the distance; her heartbeat picked up again and nothing she did for the rest of the day could quash the hope fluttering high in her breast.

Draco sat back on his heels, the sun overhead beating down on him, causing the sweat to roll down his face and into his eyes. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and then crouched back over the garden bed, reaching for another weed. There was a shout behind him and he turned around to see the lady of the house waving an arm at him. She was dressed in her impeccable clothes, pearls at her neck, hat on her head, and holding some sort of paper in her hands. She gestured again and he stood up and started towards her.

He'd come to work at one of the manor houses near the village he and his father were living in; because one of their neighbors- an elderly man that had been a gardener for years to many families in the area- had noticed the flowers Draco had been coaxing from the thin soil. And so he'd been using a little magic to make them grow, so what? He figured now that they were free it was alright, especially if he wasn't using much and only on plant life, at that. It wasn't as though he was harming anyone.

Although there were days when the guilt simply ate at him. But that wasn't guilt from hurting people, or creatures, unless one counted heartbreak. There wasn't a day that passed he didn't think of Hermione at least twenty times; even if immediately upon thinking of her he told himself she was better off without him. He and his father were out of her life now and she could go on in safety, and learn to live without them. It was best.

The woman approached him and held out the paper. "Here you are, Drake," she said. "It apparently went to your cottage, first, but your father had it sent over. Must be important." She watched him accept it warily and babbled on. "And how is Luke, by the way? Has he his health back? Do you think he could use a job as well? You know I told you, now, that if he's half as good with my camellias as you are that-"

Draco went pale beneath his sunburn and she stopped.

"Drake? Are you quite-"

He suddenly crumpled the missive in his hands and shoved it into his pocket. He forced a smile and glanced up at her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry to worry you with that."

"Do you need to go? You can always finish weeding tomorrow, although we do have that garden party the next day and I'd hoped-"

"No, no, I can stay. It's just…an old friend. Hadn't heard from them in a while. Can't believe Dad thought it was that important, but that's like him," Draco responded. He shoved the paper in his pocket and the woman gave him a critical look.

"Well…alright. I'd better leave you to your work, then. And we'll see you tomorrow, as planned?"

"Of course," Draco replied rather stiffly and gave another forced smile. The woman started back across the lawn towards the house and Draco watched her go for a second before he turned and wandered back over the bed and his tools. He knelt back down, tried to pull some more weeds. Stopped and sat back again.

Clearly he was too distracted even for weeds. Damn.

Tentatively, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the note. Unfolding it, he smoothed it against his thigh and read it again. It was vague- it had to be, if it was from his contact here in Scotland, but even so he knew what it meant.

Drake,

Can you make the return trip? I never heard from you. Hope the family is well. You're wanted.

All arrangements have been made. Miss Doyle is expecting you.

Your friend, etc, etc.

The paper shook in his hands and he crumpled it again without warning. So, he was wanted? Arrangements had been made? But why would she want this now? It had been over a month already and he'd thought they were all finally adjusting. And what fucking arrangements? They'd been over it all again and again; how the relationship, though it had brought them both comfort, wasn't right. How they were best off without one another. How she deserved a real wizard, who was free to be who he was.

But he already knew he wouldn't- couldn't- turn down the request. Leaving had been harder than he'd ever imagined- more impossible to handle with each new day that separated them. He had to see her again, if she truly wanted him. Even if he only ended up leaving again. He'd take whatever chance she gave him, if it meant he could hold her close just one more time.

His heart ached terribly and he closed his eyes and wiped his brow again. He'd have to talk to his father about it all…and he still had weeding to accomplish. Hands still shaking, he reached forward once again, wrapped his gloved fingers around a sprouting nettle, and pulled.

Lucius glanced up from where he was kneading dough at the table in the tiny kitchen. He'd taken over most of the cooking once he'd gotten well, a fact Draco was grateful for, as he often had to take long gardening shifts in order for them to scrape by. Lucius eyed him critically, but didn't mention the letter immediately.

"You'd better wash up," he told him instead. "Dinner is soon. And you look as though you've gotten more sun again. I do wish you'd wear that sunscreen she sent you off with."

Draco shot his father a dirty look. "That was real subtle, Dad. Thanks. Why not just say her name outright next time?"

"If that's what you prefer," Lucius replied cheerfully. Mentioning Hermione was taboo in their small household, though Lucius often seemed to forget it at the most inconvenient of moments. Like now, when he'd just received that request.

Draco sighed. Actually, that wasn't quite fair of him. His father had been a veritable rock the last several weeks, even when he was still being nursed back to health. He was stronger and more vital than ever before, even more so than under Hermione's watchful eye; and Draco knew that even though it wasn't normal and certainly never what he'd expected; he was glad for the freedom and independence, the chance to make a new life. And he'd been quite kind with Draco over his emotions. The last several weeks, in fact, he felt as if it was the first time his father had ever simply been himself with Draco. Simply been…a father, and a friend.

So, what would returning now do to that wonderful new relationship? Would it change things? Would he come back broken hearted again, leaning on his father for strength? Would he come back at all? And what would that mean for Lucius, exactly?

"Dad," he began finally, washing up at the kitchen sink, "thanks for sending the letter on. Did you read it?"

"Of course not. But I saw it was from our contact. Oh, you want something, do you?" he said in an aside to the rapidly growing kitten that was circling his feet. "You've had your tidbit for the day. There's food in your bowl. Go on, then."

The kitten mewed pitifully and Draco smiled some, dried his hands. "You spoil him."

"Of course I do. He's my faithful companion all day while you're off baking in the sun like some bather on the Riviera. Now, tell me about the letter." He began forming the dough into little balls and sticking them on a baking sheet.

Draco pulled out a chair and picked idly at one of the unbaked rolls and Lucius swatted at his hand. Draco pulled away, holding his hands up in surrender, though both grinned at one another. Then he dug the letter back out of his pocket and smoothed it out again.

"It's a request," he said simply.

Lucius gave him a sharp look. "For what?"

"For- ah- for me to return." He gave his father a serious look and Lucius returned it for a long moment before he turned to the oven, sticking the baking sheets inside.

"When do you go?"

Draco paused. "Dad…"

"Don't be an idiot, boy. When do you go?"

"We said all that was over."

"That was before you received this letter. Are the details in it, or do you need to write back?"

"I need to respond, but Dad, are you really ok with this?"

Lucius set the timer and then pulled out the chair beside Draco. He sat down and a second later the erstwhile kitten leapt up into his lap.

"Draco, I'm happy here. Well…perhaps content is a better word. I could do with finding work-"

"The lady of the house is still completely enamored of you," Draco interjected and Lucius raised a brow at him before continuing.

"-but over all, I'm pleased with our life here. Rather, with my life here. But I can see you're not entirely happy, Draco. I know it will take time for you to get over her, but if there's the chance you don't have to…I want you to take it. You're my only child and the thing that will make me most happy at this point in my life is to see you happy."

Draco pressed his lips together and put his head in his hands. "Even if I come back again? Even if it's all for nothing?"

"She loved you, Draco. I doubt she's recovered any more quickly than you have. Why don't you write a response now, while I finish with dinner? And then you can tell me what the lady of the house said about me, exactly."

Draco looked up at his father and smiled weakly. "Sure, Dad. I'll go get a pen and paper. Back in a minute."

Lucius stood up, shooing the kitten from his lap, and watched Draco hurry from the room, a small smile on his face. The displaced kitten mewed up at him some more and he looked down, put his hands on his hips.

"I suppose you'll want his bedroom if he leaves. Well, you can't have it. He'll need a place to stay when they come back to visit from time to time. No arguments- ah!"

The kitten attempted to climb up his pant leg and he bent over and disengaged the tiny, sharp claws from the fabric and then held the kitten up and eyed him seriously.

"At any rate, you'll have my undivided attention from now on. That will have to do."

The kitten mewed a little louder and Lucius' smile turned into a wry grin.

"I quite agree," he replied and, perching the kitten on his shoulder, turned to the rest of the dinner preparations.

AN: I want a kitten AND a Lucius. X And isn't the thought of sunburnt Draco ADORABLE? *sigh*