When the morning arrived, Draco's eyes slowly opened, and it took him only a moment to remember where he was. It was only a few seconds later, he felt his stomach plummeting with unease. Today he would need to speak with his mother about what had occurred on Asgard, as well as the choice he was now faced with.

Then there was the issue of his father.

According to his mother, Lucius was cooperating with the new Minister for Magic and Head Auror, in the hopes of receiving a more lenient sentence for his crimes during the war. Fortunately for Lucius, he'd been without a wand for nearly a year, so he hadn't taken part in much of the more, shall we say, heinous atrocities enjoyed by Voldemort's rabid followers.

Narcissa even shared the evening prior that Draco's judgement on Asgard would be deemed as punishment in lieu. Apparently the Wizengamot felt second-guessing the All-Father was not exactly a wise proposition. Little did they know, it was the Queen of Asgard who held the real power.

Thinking back now on what Frigga had shared during their exchanges, Draco had to wonder if she'd foreseen what his ultimate decision would end up being. He kept vacillating between said choices, with a part of him feeling unworthy of having a happy future and another part of him wondering if it would be far easier to just have the choice removed entirely.

It was a surprise to learn certain laws of magic were immutable across the cosmos. He should've expected it, but in his defense, it was easy to live in denial when faced with the powers of Asgard. Queen Frigga's talents were beyond impressive. To have the gift of foresight was very rare within the Wizarding World, but to be able to see across the multiverse?

Draco didn't even know such a thing existed, and it had left him silently pondering what his life might've looked like under different circumstances. Primarily, if the Dark Lord had never existed. But some nights when those darker thoughts pervaded, it caused him to imagine what his fate would've been had the Dark Lord emerged victorious.

Even now, he shuddered with dread at such an unwelcome implication.

When he was younger, listening avidly to his father's stories of He Who Must Not Be Named, Draco had felt a profound sense of awe that someone could be so powerful, but it had also left him with questions…

…questions his father did not like.

Such as: How could a wizard as powerful as the Dark Lord be vanquished by a half-blood baby?

Or, why did the Dark Lord require his followers to be branded in such a way, that it relegated them to indentured servitude?

The one question which had plagued his young mind over and over again, was if the Dark Lord was so powerful, why did he need Draco to kill Headmaster Dumbledore for him?

The problem was, Draco had not taken to asking these questions until it was too late and now, he was paying the price for his ignorance and prejudice.

Sitting up slowly, he had to wonder what kind of person he would've been if he'd had a brother or sister. Would it have served to change or mellow his parents at all?

What if he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, or heaven forbid…Hufflepuff?

Cause there was no way he'd ever be in Gryffindor! He didn't care how many alternate realities there were, he felt supremely confident that Draco Malfoy would've never been placed in with the Lions!

Merlin forbid!

His thoughts continued to run rampant as he showered and dressed for the day. When he checked the time, he was surprised to note it still wasn't quite time for their morning meal.

And he wasn't even sure if Prince Thor was awake yet either.

Leaving his room and walking down the hallway, Draco found himself wandering around his ancestral home, eventually making his way towards the dreaded drawing room.

Eyeing the door with disgust, he wasn't surprised to feel the wards effectively sealing the room off from the rest of the Manor.

He'd like to think his mother had done such a thing months ago, but in reality he knew, she'd probably only done it sometime late yesterday evening, after he'd arrived back home with their esteemed guest.

The dark magic was still palpable and probably always would be.

Eyes downcast, he walked down the stairs which led towards another part of the manor, one in which he'd never really spent much time growing up, and that was the portrait gallery.

Draco could feel the steely eyes of nearly a thousand years worth of his ancestors, and each one felt more accusing and judgmental than the last. The sneers were rather discomforting too. It reminded him too much of how his father would look upon him with disappointment.

Six years of coming in second to Granger had served to castigate him in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. To have his only son and heir, fall short to a supposed muggleborn? Well, needless too say, Draco had been summarily humiliated every summer he'd come home, having to answer Lucius Malfoy's never ending questions about how the purest of blood could be bested by someone of inferior birth.

Merlin! If they'd only known the truth!

Walking through the gallery, Draco found himself walking out the back french doors, leading to the Malfoy greenhouses. Noticing a movement inside the nearest on the left, he opened the door and wasn't exactly surprised to see his mother already tending to her favored flowers: dahlias.

"Good morning, mother."

Narcissa lifted her gazed and smiled genuinely. "Hello, dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly well." Draco admitted as he walked over and sat down on the bench nearest his mother. "I noticed you sealed off the drawing room."

Narcissa's nose made a delicate pinch and her lips pursed ever so slightly, but Draco noticed.

"It seemed prudent."

"Hmm." He murmured softly, glancing towards the peach dahlias, which under his mother's magical greenhouse charms, were blooming even in December. "The gardens look lovely. You've been spending all your time out here, haven't you?"

"Of course." His mother gently took off her gardening gloves and setting them aside, before she lifted herself effortlessly and took a seat next to him. "I will admit, it's been rather welcoming therapy for me, being out here. The last several months, living alone, it has also served as a distraction."

"And father?"

Narcissa sighed. "It's precarious, right now. He's been giving help to the Aurors as you know, Draco. But even so, there are many within the Wizengamot who feel quite strongly that the Malfoy family deserves to rot in Azkaban. Mr. Potter has been an ally, of sorts. He testified on my behalf, and gave a cursory statement for you, if needed. The Minister did tell me that those within the Ministry were quite stunned learning certain unforeseen truths."

"I can only imagine."

"Prince Loki also made quite an impression."

Shaking his head, Draco had to admit, that Loki was formidable. While he didn't radiate quite the same terror the Dark Lord did, the God of Mischief and Lies was in many ways, even more scary. His cold demeanor rarely changed, except in the presence of Hermione. It was clear to see the fondness there, and Draco had to wonder why Loki hadn't come to Earth while Hermione was at Hogwarts.

There was probably a good story there.

"How was your time on Asgard, my Dragon? Did they treat you well?"

"Very well, mother. Princess Hermione allowed me time out each day, to traverse the realm with her. We were always chaperoned though, by either the Warriors Three or the All-Father's ravens."

Narcissa's eyes widened in wonder. "And is the majesty of the Realm Eternal as wondrous as it has been assumed?"

"More so." Draco admitted truthfully. "It's beauty is unlike anything of this world. The palace of Asgard shines golden in the day, and the stars, mother…truly breathtaking. The halls of Valhalla are majestic, but it's the people who make Asgard a place like none other. Everyone is welcoming, kind, and respectful. No one goes without. Walking with Princess Hermione amongst the people, she knew everyone by name. She asked after their families and treated me with far more civility than I ever did for her. The shame I feel…"

His voice fell away, causing Narcissa to nod with understanding. "I will admit to being worried for you, but I did take a small measure of comfort in that from what I've known cursorily about Miss Granger, at least when she was here, her propensity for kindness and fairness was well-known. Arthur Weasley also assured me of such when you were taken by Prince Loki, but still, it was difficult. I have missed you."

Draco turned his head to face his mother fully, and smiled gently. "I missed you too, mother."

Patting his hand, Narcissa was quick to note the tension around her son's eyes. There was more to his story than he was sharing. A fact she was quick to point out. Draco though, sighed heavily. His mother knew him too well and he never could hide anything from her.

"There is something I need to tell you."

"I thought as such."

"I just don't want to upset you."

Her wintry gaze narrowed. "Why would I be upset?"

"Mother, you must have at least guessed why Prince Loki took me to Asgard?"

"Nothing more than the cursory, Draco. I assumed the magic of Asgard was of a fundamentally different nature."

"It is, and not."

"Oh?"

He stood up and walked a few paces, running an agitated hand down his face. He knew he needed to just explain himself, but he hated seeing his mother's despair.

"As you're aware, mother—we don't have the ability to cure dark magic here within our Wizarding World. On Asgard, they do. But the nature of healing is such, it can only be done one of two ways."

He turned around and could see his mother's mind working, and bless her intelligence, for it only took her a minute to surmise at least in part, what he was saying.

"Blood magic."

"That's one way," he nodded, "soul magic, being the other."

Narcissa sucked in a stunted breath, and Draco watched her face pale slightly, even as she swallowed uncomfortably.

"I see." She breathed out with a heavy frown. "Am I to assume you've been given the choice?"

"Yes. Princess Hermione at first, wasn't inclined to do so, but I think Queen Frigga might have appealed to her daughter's sense of justice. I did forget to mention that there was a ceremony before I arrived on Asgard. Hermione was given her formal naming by her father."

"And that was?"

"The Goddess of Knowledge."

Narcissa's lips lifted. "Apropos."

"I thought so too."

Draco went to sit back down and shared with his mother everything. The choice he was faced with, what it meant for him, the Queen's sharing of the multiverse and what his fate would've been, had he not taken the Dark Mark. After thirty minutes, Draco finally felt the weight of the past weeks lift slightly, as he waited with bated breath for his mother to speak.

When she did, he wasn't surprised by her response.

"My Dragon, we both know that you've carried the weight of expectation for your entire life. If your father were here, he would seek to remind you of your duty to House Malfoy; in carrying on the name. Salazar knows your father and I were luckier than most, in that we learned to love each other. Many a wife of those who followed the Dark Lord were not so lucky. However, selfishly, I've always held out hope you would find your true match, and with that, a deep and abiding love. So I must ask you here and now: just how deep do your feelings run for the Asgardian Princess?"

Draco leant forward, casually resting his elbows on his upper thighs as he considered his mother's question. However, his answer was fairly straightforward.

Surprisingly so.

"Both complicated and not. For years, I have warred with myself over feelings which did not make sense. There was so much about Hermione Granger that infuriated me. Prince Loki might have put the question to me about having difficulty facing the juxtaposition of a muggleborn witch being so magical, however, I think deep down, I knew there was something different about Granger. It didn't stop me from being terribly unkind…"

"A fact we both know you had a part to play."

"Doesn't excuse it, mother. There was a part of me that felt supremely justified in holding myself above others I deemed less worthy. I've been summarily hoisted by my own petard."

Chuckling softly, Narcissa couldn't help but smile fondly at her only child. "Does Miss Granger know of your love of Muggle literature?"

Draco shook his head. "Didn't come up. I spent most of my free time reading Asgardian books. But now that I have more context, it doesn't surprise me that Hermione would try and utilize her time here to absorb as much knowledge as she could."

"Something you two share in common, yes?"

He nodded slowly.

"Do you love her?"

Shaking his head, Draco sighed heavily. "My feelings aren't quite so defined. I am enamored of her, and find her a paradox in so many ways. She intrigues me. Always has."

"And what does she feel for you?"

"Casual indifference?"

"Cheek."

"Truth."

"Perhaps."

He shook his head again. "Doesn't matter, mother. If I choose blood magic, I will be left a shadow of myself. I know enough to suspect, my emotional attachment is far stronger than hers, which doesn't bode well for any future prospects I might have someday. Soul magic…"

"Would kill you if you're not a perfect match."

He nodded again.

Narcissa though, appeared thoughtful.

"What if you were?"

Draco's eyes widened. "Mother, do you know how unlikely that would be?"

"Quite." She admitted patiently, "However, magic wills out, in the end. I suppose it comes down to what your magic tells you?"

Draco eyed his mother curiously. "I'm not sure I follow."

"My son, you were raised as the scion of two great houses steeped in storied magical history. As a Black, I can tell you, magic is sentient unto itself. I'm sure you've heard of the red thread of fate?"

"Some."

"Magical lore states that two people connected by the red thread are destined, regardless of place, time, or circumstance. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. This is one of the foundational beliefs of Divination, Draco. Seeing with the Inner Eye, can lead you to your other half."

"Queen Frigga has the sight."

"I suspected as much, from what you've shared. My guess is, she's seen your final decision, Draco. It's also likely why she gently persuaded her daughter to give you the choice. I do tend to think it's something you need to ruminate over seriously."

Draco turned his head and stared out the greenhouse window, pondering over his mother's sage advice. He hadn't considered such a possibility, but now that he was, he couldn't unthink it and it did in some ways, confirm his initial suppositions when Hermione told him the truth.

However for now, he might as well enjoy this time home with his mother. Regardless, he was on a short leash and didn't want to waste any more time thinking on it.

His final decision was due in two weeks, whether he was ready for it or not.

Such was the story of his life.