A.N. I'm sorry for my erratic posting schedule these past two and a half years. My only excuse is my wonderfully busy life (yay!) and my constant state of transition (boo). Once my life is less nomadic and more settled and less active, I would have a more regular posting schedule.

In other news, I edited a lot of the older chapters. It's not perfect, but it's so much better. I also wrote up four pages of the next few chapters, including some more Draco/Hermione progress.

Special thanks to Connected-by-a-Semicolon, kyutiepie, Vivienne Stark, catsgotmytongue, mshccs, Beth, sofisamu, Dark-Supernatural-Angel, azertykeynes, Aquary, Arickaken21, darth-sakura, Guest, nikik0201, rooon0, Pixiecropse, Hanable-13, Blue Luver5000, habababa, Aleksandra, Gal, nikkishrank, Guest, Guest, madval29, Dracohermionealways, Blu3zClu3z, and KmyD.

And congratulations to baker1944 for his recent engagement.

Carry On Ch. 14

February 20, 2004

Rolf Scamander was a peculiar fellow, the Malfoy family decided. He came to the Malfoy Manor carrying a suitcase like the one his famous grandfather used. His windswept brown hair careless flopped to the side, and his dreamy eyes always seemed to stare off far away.

Like Draco, he graduated from Hogwarts. He was five years older than Draco and was a proud Hufflepuff, hence why they didn't socialize with one another during their brief time they attended Hogwarts together. Not that he stood out among the forgettable Hufflepuffs anyway. The only thing notable about the man was his expertise on magical creatures, which the Malfoys typically had no interest in if it weren't for the situation at hand. And the Malfoys would usually not spend their time sitting around in their living room while staring at an open briefcase, waiting for an absentminded Hufflepuff to show up.

"What spell do you think they used on that briefcase?" Mrs. Malfoy asked her husband and her son.

"Ay, an Undetectable Extension Charm like the ones used in Wizards tents," Mr. Malfoy replied to his wife.

"Do you think it's the same briefcase as his grandfather?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"It doesn't have the wear and tear that indicate it is the same briefcase," Mr. Malfoy said.

Draco, on the other hand, could not believe that his parents were so relaxed while his life hung in the balance. He sunk into his seat, earning him a glare from his mother, who would no doubt ask him whatever happened to the posture lessons she gave him when he was a child.

"Aha! Here it is," an arm fisting a journal popped out the open briefcase.

Rolf Scamander emerged from the briefcase covered with hay and a triumphant smile on his face. His messy hair was made even messier by the presence of dust turning his brunette hair gray. His wrinkled robes caught every speck of dandruff.

"This little bugger was covered with cobwebs that I couldn't see the spine," Rolf Scamander said. "Good thing I thought of casting a cleaning charm halfway through. Otherwise, I would have been down there all day."

Scamander got out of the old briefcase and rudely shook off the dust to the perfectly clean floor.

Now let's see," Scamander said. "As you know, my grandfather famously traveled around the world in search of magical creatures all over the world and wrote a book about them."

"Oh, really? We absolutely had no idea," Draco said impatiently.

"Draco, have some manners," his mother said.

"That's alright," Scamander said. "I should go straight to the point. Among the first places he visited was the continent where he encountered a made up of several veelas. From what my grandfather wrote in his diary, veelas are very secretive. They are only willing to talk to them if he promised to only write the most basic information in his textbook. The pages afterward have a lot of empty spaces, which tells me that my grandfather concealed the information with a concealing charm."

"We could easily reverse a concealing charm with a revealing charm," Lucius Malfoy said. "It should not be a big problem."

"I agree that it shouldn't be a problem if my grandfather used an ordinary concealing charm," Scamander said. "But my grandfather learned a complex concealing charm in his travels that require blood magic to reveal."

Scamander laid the journal on the coffee table and rolled up his sleeves.

"As you can imagine," Scamander said. "I only reveal passages during special circumstances, and I would have to be specific as to what the problem was, so I would know what to look for before the revealing charm fades."

He eyed the Malfoy family suspiciously. Though they said that they needed help as their one and only son is a veela mate, they have yet to reveal the name of said veela. Anyone of the Malfoys could pass as a veela in the French variety.

Scamander watched as the Malfoy family squirm in their seats, and he couldn't blame them as it was a personal question. Though he had yet to use the revealing charm on the veela section of his grandfather's journals, he knows well enough that veela families tend to be very secretive. Wealthy old pureblood families tend to be as well. If Scamander's hunch was correct, then this would be the most personal question, he could ask the Malfoy family.

"Of course," the Malfoy patriarch said. "We recently discovered that a veela has chosen our son Draco as her mate."

"That seems like a great honor," Scamander said.

"Normally, I would agree," Lady Malfoy said. "But unfortunately, this veela was a muggle-born who has the misfortune of not knowing veela etiquette and actually chose to reject and even avoid our son."

"That's…that's…" Scamander didn't know the proper word to describe what was going on. It's fascinating, but that word would leave off the wrong impression. It's interesting, but he didn't want to imply that this situation was trivial when it was anything but.

"…unfortunate," Scamander finally said.

Scamander sat down the couch. He needed to gather his thoughts. This might be the most complicated situation he would face.

"I think I would need to know the whole story to help you," Scamander said.

"Why, of course." Mrs. Malfoy said.

The entire time the Malfoys told their story, Scamander noticed that the mate in question did not contribute any of his opinions. For the most part, Draco Malfoy maintained a bored expression on his face. Sometimes he would see a glint of anger flash through Draco's eyes, but then it would quickly disappear.

"Is there something physically wrong with the veela?" Mr. Scamander asked after hearing the entire tale.

"Aside from a little fainting spell around Christmastime for exhaustion," Mrs. Malfoy said. "I could not dig up any ailments for the poor girl."

"But we also discovered that the girl was overworking herself for quite some time now," Mr. Malfoy said. "I'm sure you heard of Ms. Granger's reputation. She famously finished her studies at St. Mungo's early and disappeared."

"I heard from her professors that she has always been a hardworking girl," Mrs. Malfoy said. "These have been very stressful times for her, along with everybody. Perhaps the stress caused her veela to mistakenly choose our son as her mate."

"I never heard of veelas misidentifying their mates before," Scamander said. "Now, if you would excuse me. I would have to dig into my grandfather's journals to see if we could find a solution to your problem."

Scamander grabbed the journal and his grandfather's briefcase.

"If you don't mind," Scamander said. "I would head out now."

The Malfoys excused the magizoologist let him go on his way. Scamander could already tell that this was not a veela problem, but a lover's quarrel. Then again, the entire issue was that they were not lovers. On the other hand, by the look of the Malfoy heir, it seems that it's a good thing that they were not lovers in the first place…which was precisely the problem. Scamander scratched behind his ear. He would have to do an all-nighter for this.

March 30, 2004

Hermione was partially grateful, but at the same time Its skeptical of Blaise Zabini's help. While she was thankful that Zabini introduced her to the Minister of Magical Sports and Games. However, her inability to pinpoint the exact reason why he was so helpful or why he helped her out with her research proposal made her dubious of his motivations. She could not figure out the into of her newest ally if she could call him that. They had little to no interaction during their years at Hogwarts together, aside from their mutual membership in the oh-so exclusive Slug Club. The years after Hogwarts didn't give her an excellent reason to re-ignite that association.

Therefore, when Blaise Zabini came looking for her in his wizard robes at her muggle university in the middle of muggle London, she flipped. Had Zabini ever heard of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? Then why was he walking around in expensive wizarding robes with his wand in hand near her dormitory?

If Hermione didn't just ace her final project of the year, she would have bitten Zabini's head off right there and then. Instead, Hermione practically pushed him towards her room, much to Zabini's complaints.

"Did nobody ever tell you to wear muggle clothes when surrounded by muggles?" Hermione practically shrieked at him after throwing her laptop towards her bed and casting a few silencing charms around her apartment.

"I don't own muggle clothing," Zabini said.

"Then borrow one from Harry!" Hermione said.

"I don't think Harry's muggle clothing would match me," Zabini said with that cocky smile that tells Hermione he found the situation funny. God, this guy…

"I'm serious," Hermione said. "You're lucky that everybody here is panicking about midterms to even notice your wizarding robes. Doesn't the Statute of Secrecy mean anything to you?"

"Can you really blame me?" Zabini asked while grinning. "I can't exactly waltz in a muggle store in my wizarding robes and buy a brand-new outfit using galleons before I see you when I'm sitting on excellent news."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. If Hermione had the money, she would order Zabini some clothes online. Or hopefully, Hermione was scary enough to make him think twice coming back here. Then again, Zabini was laughing off her irritation. Could he be serious for once?

"Since I'm graduating soon," Hermione said. "You would not find a reason to visit me in a muggle dormitory ever again. But just in case I'm putting a request to connect my fireplace to the floo network."

"Now that we have that sorted out," Zabini said. "Shall we move on to the good news I rushed in here to tell you in the first place?"

"Fine, go ahead," Hermione said in exasperation.

"Remember, during your presentation, Runcorn was rolling his eyes the entire time?" Zabini asked.

"I never had interaction with that man, and I highly doubt I ever will," Hermione declared. The memory of that man scoffing every five seconds made Hermione want to give him another dose of Nosebleed Nougat. Then again, Hermione hated the man as soon as she learned that Runcorn liked to "expose" muggleborns during the brief time when Voldemort was in power.

"That might change soon," Zabini said. "In the same meeting, you gave some candy to a muggle-born who was concerned that his little squirt would be too small."

Hermione remembered that day. Alderton was imprisoned during the war and was unable to work during the time. His wife used their savings while he was away, and when he got out, he had to claw his way back to his pay grade before the war. Though the war lasted less than a year, the young family remained impoverished for a while as they tried to get back to their feet. Early years of malnutrition have contributed to the stunting of growth for the children, which concerned Alderton. After all, how could his boys stand up for himself at Hogwarts when they might end up shorter than the rest of their schoolmates?

That day, Hermione told Alderton to get a prescription for some growth hormones while the children were still growing. Zabini might not know the difference between giving people pills and telling them to get an order. Still, Hermione was not about to explain muggle medicine and muggle medical laws to a hyperactive Zabini.

"Yes, I remember that day," Hermione said. "And the man's name is Alderton."

"Well, Anderson started bragging in the office about his children's growth spurt," Zabini said. "Nobody believed him at first, of course. But then his children came to the Ministry's Easter event off, and everybody could see that the entire family must have grown a foot since Christmas."

That was not an unexpected result, Hermione thought. Just as long as the children don't get too much growth hormones too quickly; otherwise, it would cause the children to be tall and result in heart problems down the line.

Zabini rambled on about how Runcorn started inquiring if he could get some of that muggle growing pills. Hermione wanted to smack her head.

Hermione took off her coat and relaxed on her bed. This day had been too long. After her midterms, 2 hours of sleep from the night before, and lecturing Zabini, she just wanted to lay in bed for the next 12 hours. She knew she should care about what Zabini was saying, but she just didn't have the energy to do so.

"As lovely it is to have you here," Hermione said, jumping to her school-assigned bed. "I just finished midterms today, and I don't really have the headspace to talk about our grand plan."

Hermione drifted off to sleep, not caring if Zabini left her muggle dormitory through an apparition or through the door. The last thing she expected was to see Zabini still in her muggle dormitory flipping through one of her books as he sat on her rickety chair.

"Urrgh… Zabini," Hermione croaked. Her dry mouth made it hard to form cohesive words. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh, you're finally awake," Zabini said. "You practically fainted to your bed back then. I figured that I should help you out for a bit."

Zabini strode to the mini kitchenette attached to her room and presented her with cacio e pepe.

"Here, I made you this," Zabini said. "There's nothing much in your pantry, so that's the best I could do. I could make you something better once you get the chance to go grocery shopping."

Hermione gratefully took the bowl of pasta from Zabini and ate it from her bed. She watched as Zabini magically cleaned up her room. For the first time, Hermione felt embarrassed about the disheveled state her dorm was in.

"You shouldn't have to do that," Hermione said. "I plan to clean up during the weekend after the midterms are through."

"Okay," Zabini said carefully. "But when did you plan to finish up drafting your proposal to study Quidditch player's spit?"

"Its DNA and I planned to finish the proposal this weekend."

"When are you planning to do your laundry?" Zabini asked, pointing at the ever-growing pile of dirty laundry. Hermione already resorted to scourgifying her less dirty clothes when she needed it.

"This weekend…," Hermione said, her cheeks flushed.

"And when are you planning to go grocery shopping?"

Hermione chewed her lip nervously, suddenly realizing her hectic weekend schedule.

"After school, this Friday?" she suggested.

"Let me guess," Zabini said. "You get off school after five in the afternoon or close to five, giving you minimal time to browse around the store."

"Okay, I get it," Hermione said. "I just have a lot of things on my plate."

Zabini quirked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, muggle expression," Hermione explained.

Zabini sat regally on her bare-bones school-loaned chair.

"Hermione, I told you that I am here to help you," Zabini said. "And I cannot help you if you don't tell me what you need. I know that you are a competent witch. However, one witch could only do so much."

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't want to seem rude or ungrateful by telling Zabini that she didn't exactly trust him for helping her out of the blue. Despite Zabini's friendly demeanor, a question still hungover Hermione's head. Why was he so helpful towards her?

"I know," Hermione said, her voice reserved. "I'm really grateful for everything that you had done, but I don't exactly have a house-elf running around to help me out."

"True," Zabini said. "But I'm right here."

"Wait -" Hermione said. "No, I could never ask you to do my laundry for me."

Zabini looked at him in shock but immediately laughed heartily. Hermione's face flushed red. Of course, Zabini wouldn't do laundry for her. What was she thinking?

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I might not be feeling myself right now."

"That's totally fine," Zabini laughed. "We should probably get you something heartier to eat. That cacio e pepe is clearly not enough."

Zabini stood up from the chair and grabbed Hermione's wrist. "Come with me."

Zabini practically dragged Hermione out of her bed, forcing Hermione to throw her bowl away to a corner. They passed by several muggles who didn't even bat an eye that a half-awake student with bedhead was dragged off by a man wearing wizarding robes.

On the nearest apparition point, Zabini apparated them in front of a tall building that has a distinctive curved blue roof, black wired balconies, tall windows, and pale stone walls that defined Haussmann-style architecture. She was in Paris.

Zabini pulled Hermione to the front door where he pulled out his keys, unlocked the door, and just entered without knocking.

"Nonna," Zabini called out. "Nonno."

Hermione heard heavy footsteps, and out came a tall older man wearing a beret. Years of smiles were permanently etched on his face. He was slowly followed by an equally happy elderly woman with her hair pulled back into a bun.

"Blaise!" the elderly woman cried out.

The elderly couple rushed over to them and engulfed Zabini in a warm hug before quickly fussing over Hermione in Italian and French. Zabini had to break Hermione away from the elderly couple before talking to them in rapid Italian. Hermione ended up standing on the corner, awkwardly waiting for them to finish their conversation.

"Hermione," Zabini finally said. "This is my grandparents."

Zabini turned towards his grandparents.

"Lei è mi amica," Zabini said.

"Ah, I see," Zabini's grandfather said. "It's nice to meet another one of Blaise's friends."

"Oh…Um…It's nice to meet you as well," Hermione said.

Zabini spoke something in Italian that excited the older woman and put a twinkle on the older man's eyes.

"You just finished your midterms," Zabini's grandmother said as she ushered Hermione down the hall and into a dining room.

Even before Hermione entered the room, she was bombarded by the delicious smells of a home-cooked meal. There were Caprese salad, fresh rolls, pasta, stew, potatoes, tiramisu, and of course, there's wine. Hermione had to quickly wipe away the drool, escaping her mouth. That was embarrassing.

"Come join us for dinner," the elderly woman said in her thickly accented English.

Hermione practically curtsied in gratitude as Zabini's grandfather made one more place setting for her. The food was so delicious that Hermione didn't even care that she could not keep up with the conversation also though her hosts switched to speaking in English for her convenience.

Hermione tried the salad first, then the rolls before adding a bit of the butter. Hermione became vaguely aware that the Zabinis were asking her a question, but her mouth was full. Thankfully, nobody minded.

"We could talk during dessert," Zabini's Nonno said. "Just eat for now."

Hermione didn't have to be told twice to dig in as elegantly as she could. Even chatty Blaise was speechless every time he took a bite.

"My nonna is the best Italian chef in all of Paris," Zabini said proudly when he finished his third serving.

"That's only because I've been cooking Italian food since I was a little girl," Nonna said as she waved off the compliment.

"Nonsense," Nonno said. "Even as a young woman, you were the best chef I ever encountered."

Nonno kissed his wife's cheek.

"I'm still thankful that your veela chose me."

Hermione froze for a second. Wait… what? All of a sudden, the welcoming meal turned into a setup for an interrogation she desperately didn't want. She excused herself from the table, desperate to get out of the room. Away from Zabini and his ilk.

Zabini followed her to the living room.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked without turning around.

"A little birdie told me that you're a veela," Zabini said. The smile in his voice could be heard even though she didn't see it.

Hermione clenched her fists. Thanks to her little blip during Harry's engagement party, she had multiple suspects. Worse, she didn't know if Harry and Ginny's guests also told her secret to whoever.

"A lot of little birdies know that I am a veela," Hermione said. "I just wish they don't tweet so much."

"Fair enough," Blaise said. "It was Draco."

Hermione sighed. Her shoulders slumped, and she sat down on an antique chair.

"Are you his proxy?" Hermione asked. "Did he tell you to be friendly to me on his behalf?

"No," Zabini said. "Draco would never ask me to do that. Besides, I don't get involved with anybody else's love lives."

Zabini sat down on the couch right across Hermione. He looked straight to Hermione's eyes, making sure that she knew that he was speaking honestly to her.

"Remember when I said that I am here to help you," Zabini said. "I mean every word of it. You're family to me now."