"Mr. Potter," McGonagall greeted him as her head formed from the flames in the kitchen hearth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hi, Professor. I was wondering if I could come through and talk with Hermione, actually." He felt incredibly rude to be asking for someone other than the Floo connection's owner, but he really did feel like he'd go mad if he didn't talk to someone soon. McGonagall wasn't exactly his ideal advice giver in matters like this.

"Absolutely," McGonagall replied with a kind, small smile. "Let me lift the wards restricting my connection. It will take a moment, so wait until I've signalled you before you Floo."

"Alright, thanks, Professor."

Harry stood back from the fireplace and waited for what seemed an eternity for his flames to turn green again. When they'd gone back to their normal colour Harry tossed in a fistfull of emerald, gritty powder and called out for the Headmistress' office. Hermione was already sitting in front of McGonagall's desk when Harry stepped through the office fireplace, a steaming mug of tea in her one hand and an inked quill in the other. Harry saw that there was a pile of parchments on the desk in front of her and she seemed to be pausing in her filling out of forms.

"Hey," Hermione said as she set down quill and cup to embrace him. "Is everything alright? I wasn't expecting a physical call from you."

"I'll give you two some privacy," McGonagall said as she stood from her desk and began crossing the room toward the large oak door to her own connected rooms. "Lovely to see you, Harry. I hope all is well."

"Thanks, you too," Harry said to her distractedly. As soon as her door was shut Harry started in a frenzy, pacing back and forth in the open office space. "Hermione, something really bad happened— or, almost happened. Around Christmas? At the Ministry Christmas party, to be specific. Mrs. Malfoy finally contacted Draco, she added him to the will and the Malfoy Gringotts vaults. They're talking again, actually, and they met up yesterday at the park by my house so she could apologise to us."

"Harry, I'm not following you," Hermione said seriously. "Something bad almost happened? All of what you just said sounds like positive advancements in your and Draco's life. What's this about the Christmas party?" Harry sighed, realising he wasn't making much sense.

"She tried to poison me. Well, no. She was going to poison me, but ended up thinking better of it. At the Christmas party. She Polyjuiced herself into someone else who had an invitation so she could spy on us, and she said the reason she didn't go through with it was that she wants Draco to be happy, and apparently she finally saw that I was making him happy."

"Harry, you're joking," Hermione whispered, her brown eyes wide with fret. "Did she tell you all this?"

"Yesterday she told me privately. This was after Draco and she had spoken for a while and he forgave her. Then she wanted to talk to me after they were done, so I went over to her and she grovelled for a while, I forgave her, and then she told me she almost tried to kill me."

"What does Draco say about all of this?"

"That's the thing, I can't tell him," Harry breathed out quickly. "If I tell him it'll mean everything that happened between him and his mum yesterday was in vain."

"You can't just keep this from him, though," Hermione urged. "What will happen if he does find out much later on? He'll be upset with you for keeping it from him. Secrets in relationships don't work, Harry."

"I know they don't, but how can I choose between being with him and him having a mum? I couldn't take his mum from him and that's exactly what I'd be doing if I told him about this. He'll be furious with her."

"You can't know that." But Hermione sounded uncertain, which led Harry to believe that he was right in this matter, rare as that was. "Honestly, I would want to know if my mum tried to poison Ron, even if we had just started talking again. What's the point in having a relationship with someone if it's built on lies and misconceptions? You're forcing his judgement of her to be clouded if you keep this from him, and on top of that you really can't know how much better or worse he'll feel toward her if you're honest with him."

"I can have a pretty good idea, though, and I don't like the looks of things if I do tell him."

"It's not going to be pretty, that's true," Hermione conceded, "But you should tell him anyway. He deserves to know."

"Say you're right. Say it would be best if I told him."

"I'm right and it'd be best if you told him." Harry laughed at Hermione's taking his hypothetical literally.

"What if I told her I wouldn't tell him? What if I sort of… promised?" he asked after his laughter had died.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't. You did, I already know you did, but why, Harry?"

"Because I thought it was the right thing! I don't know!"

"You're a moron, you know," she stated matter-of-factly. "Does it seem worth it to risk ruining your relationship with Draco by keeping a promise to lie to him?"

"Er, no," Harry admitted. "But I can't just tell him, I have to warn her first."

"Why? Did she warn you before she planned to kill you?"

"Sort of." Hermione scoffed.

"Okay, well this isn't you trying to kill her, this is you being honest with Draco about something horrible she did that he deserves to know about."

"Alright, alright, I'll tell him." Hermione smiled smugly and crossed her arms as she leaned back in her chair.

"Good. Smart choice. I can promise you that things'll go a lot better if you're just honest with him about all this. He might be upset with her for a while, but in the end she didn't kill you, obviously, so it's certainly not as bad as things could be. She did threaten you, after all, so it's not all that surprising that she had a plan like that. He'll certainly be grateful she didn't end up going through with it."

"Right," Harry drawled, unconvinced by Hermione's probably sound logic. "And if he doesn't forgive her eventually?"

"That'll be up to him and there's nothing you can do to control that. Have you forgiven her for planning to kill you? That must've been hard to find out about."

"I haven't, really. How do you forgive someone for something like that?"

"I forgave Bellatrix." Harry's head shot back at her stunning revelation.

"No fucking way, you didn't."

"Well, I'm… working on it. Though I have to admit it's a lot easier to try and forgive someone who's dead. She doesn't exactly give me much ammunition to hate her with these days. Aside from maybe Neville's parents…" She trailed off with a disgruntled twist to her mouth before clearing her face and looking back up at Harry. "I'm not saying you have to forgive her, Harry, but I think it'd be a lot easier for you if you did. It takes less effort to forgive someone than to hate them, and it does give you a lot of peace of mind. I could stay hung-up on what Bellatrix did, but I'm trying to choose instead to accept what happened and move on. It's going to take time, but that's the plan."

"Would you have forgiven her if Molly hadn't killed her during the final battle?" Harry asked.

"Probably, but I would always have been wary of her. She would've gone straight to Azkaban if she'd lived through the war— that is, if she didn't go into hiding. Either way she'd have been out of my hair."

"And if she was your mother-in-law?" Hermione's brows creased in the centre and Harry realised what he'd just said. "I mean, if she was your boyfriend's mother." Maybe Narcissa was right about him secretly wanting to marry Draco. Harry pushed that concerning and confusing thought into the back of his head for the time being. It wasn't something he could focus on at the moment with much bigger fish to fry at hand.

"Since I'm unable to imagine Bellatrix as my mother-in-law, I'm going to assume you meant what if Molly were the one who'd threatened to kill me and then nearly tried…" Hermione contemplated this for a moment. "I would probably do as much as I could to avoid being in her presence, but I would still tell Ron."

"She was going to poison me. I think I'll be avoiding family dinners, at least," Harry said with a flat sounding laugh.

"That would be highly recommended, along with any offered beverages," Hermione agreed seriously. "Really, though, how did she expect to get away with it? Killing the saviour of the wizarding world," Hermione scoffed. "How absurd."

"Yeah, well, she didn't seem to be thinking straight for a while," Harry said, unsure of whether he was defending her or insulting her.

"It seems like she's finally settled on being a better person if she's made efforts to get back into your and Draco's good graces, at least. That's something I never would've expected."

"You and me both." Harry finally sat down in the empty chair next to Hermione's and sighed heavily. "I've got an interview with Cole Camberwell," he said, changing the subject to something less mind-boggling.

"Have you? That's great! Who's Cole Camberwell?"

"He's a new reporter. Not sure which press he's working for, but he's really good. He reminds me of Colin Creevey."

"Oh," Hermione said, sounding somewhat sad. "You think he'll be the right person to express the importance of this speech without giving away what it's about?"

"I think so. He did a small interview with Draco and I while we waited to get into the Ministry party and when it was published there were no added quotes or insinuations of anything devious. He's a lot better than Skeeter, that's for sure."

"Anyone's better than Skeeter," Hermione grumbled.

"True, but he's a step above 'anyone,' I think. He's a pretty straight-forward bloke, as far as I can tell."

"I'm glad you found someone reliable for the interview. Is he going to do press coverage for the speech as well?"

"I wanted to ask him after the interview. It'll make his day, and his career, so I'm pretty sure he'll do it. I'm considering asking him to do all my interviews from here on out, actually."

"Wow, he must really be good, then," Hermione said in slight awe. "Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about? I really need to finish up these forms for Minerva before lunch. I've got student counseling then" She smiled apologetically.

"No that just about covers it. Thanks for your help, Hermione. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Wallow in self-inflicted turmoil, most likely," she laughed. "You're welcome, anyway. Now go and tell Draco before you chicken out."

"I'm not a chicken," Harry protested as he searched out and found the jar of McGonagall's Floo powder, taking a handful from its contents.

"Bawk-bawk," Hermione retorted.

As badly as Harry had wanted to tell Draco the day he'd found out, for some reason he was finding the task much more difficult now that he knew he had to do it. So many results were flying through his head, ranging from mildly bad to horrible. Not one positive reaction could be conjured in his imagination. The most likely one, he thought, was that Draco would be partially upset with him for not telling him yet (like Hermione had said would happen,) but less angry at him than at his mother for trying to kill him in the first place. Then he'd write to her and tell her he never wanted to see her again, or something to that tune. And it would be Harry's fault for telling him.

But if I don't tell him I'm lying to him, he thought. And I refuse to lie to Draco about anything. He'd almost come out with it during dinner that night, after Draco had come back from his massage appointment in Hogsmeade, but Draco ended up starting up a new topic of conversation right when Harry had begun to form the courage he needed. Apparently Draco had met a girl who he hoped to become friends with while he was out, and it had happened in the strangest way.

"So you pretended to be her boyfriend?" Harry asked, an amused and bewildered smile twisting his lips.

"Well, yeah. These blokes weren't going to leave her alone, I could tell. They kept moving in closer to her, the three of them, and they had the most disgusting smirks I think I've ever seen. It was pretty clear what their intentions were and I could see how scared Izzy was. I was impressed at how well she hid it, though."

"What did you do, then?"

"I'd just left the spa when I saw this happening, those idiots following her down the lane and making eyes at her arse, whistling and such. At first I was going to just leave it be. I didn't exactly want to get involved in a potentially violent situation with your speech coming up. It would give the homophobes more reason to believe us gays are violent, or whatever. Anyway, I sort of stopped and watched for a moment and then she made eye contact with me. At that point I couldn't exactly walk away, she'd practically begged me with her eyes to do something.

"So instead of walking away with my tail between my legs I rolled up my left sleeve, strolled up to her casually, wrapped my right arm around her waist— brandishing my Mark for extra effect— kissed her cheek, and asked if she was ready to head to dinner. Those blokes fucked off pretty quickly."

"What did she do?" Harry felt like a gossiping teenager, but it'd been a long time since he'd heard a story this interesting that didn't involve him. "Was she upset at you kissing her when she just wanted to be left alone?"

"No, she was incredibly thankful. She offered to pay me for helping her, the odd duck. I refused, but she did force me to let her buy me a muffin from the cafe. Triple chocolate mocha muffin, how could I say no to that?" Harry laughed, unaware of Draco's chocolate weakness until just then. "So we sat down at a table together, she had a latte and I had my muffin, and we started talking. It was really weird, being spoken to as an equal by someone in our age range. Or any age, for that matter. There's no way she didn't know who I was, but she was so kind and friendly that I didn't even notice I hadn't rolled down my sleeve until after we left the cafe."

"Sounds like you made a fine friend, then," Harry said with a proud smile. He was glad Draco had met someone outside of the Weasley family and Harry's Gryffindor friends to talk to. A slow, excited smile creeped over Draco's lips and his eyes shined.

"I think I did. And you'll never guess what house she's in."

"Slytherin?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Oh really? I don't remember an Izzy back in school," Harry said as he wracked his brain for the name. He thought he'd known most of the Hufflepuffs by name, but he supposed not.

"Izranine Turpentine. She's in Ginny's year, but she mostly keeps to herself from the sounds of it. She goes by Izzy, so maybe you'll remember that name from school." Draco smiled brightly again and Harry thought he could recall someone mentioning an Izzy once or twice. "I made a friend! My own friend!"

And so Harry hadn't gotten the chance to tell Draco then. How could he, and ruin Draco's newfound happiness? It made much more sense to wait until the next day, until Harry realised that he needed to prepare for his interview that coming weekend. He hadn't thought anything out and had nothing planned to say. Cole knew the gist of what the interview was about, but Harry still felt the need to prepare something. You're stalling, Harry silently accused himself, and he knew he was. It was just so difficult to find the nerve.

Draco wasn't oblivious; Harry was hiding something. He was more jumpy, especially about topics involving Narcissa. When Draco had told Harry on Thursday that she was coming over for tea on Friday he seemed to become suddenly very nervous. When they'd left the park Harry had been strangely quiet and pensive, not giving more than one or two word responses to Draco's comments and questions. He'd even seemed distracted a bit during the blowjob Draco had given him in an effort to cheer him up. So when Harry became flustered about Friday tea Draco knew he had to investigate.

"What are you keeping from me?" Draco asked calmly, hoping he didn't come off as offensive. If he knew anything about digging information from Harry, it was that he had to do it tactfully and without making Harry feel he'd done something wrong.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his orange juice. He had about ten minutes before he had to leave for work and while Draco could think of a better time to have this conversation he couldn't prevent himself from pressing the matter.

"You've been cagey lately, specifically about my mother. What's going on? Did she say something to you at the park? She did apologise, didn't she?" Harry rubbed his face tiredly and exhaled sharply.

"I've been meaning to tell you for a couple days now, but I didn't know how. Every time I tried something came up and I didn't want to ruin your good mood." So it was worse than Draco had originally thought, if Harry was this worried.

"Why would it ruin my good mood?" he asked slowly, cautiously.

"Well… it'll probably ruin more than just your good mood," Harry admitted, staring into his glass of o.j. "It might ruin everything you've rebuilt with your mum."

"Oh. Care to fill me in, finally?" Draco was trying very hard not to get upset, but it really sounded like something he needed to be upset about. Sighing, Harry stood up from his occupied kitchen stool and tossed Floo powder into the hearth. "No you don't! You can't just leave after telling me you've been hiding something like this," Draco shouted, knocking his stool over as he stood up and crossed the room quickly.

"I'm not leaving!" Harry yelled back. "I'm going to tell my instructor I'll be late for work, since this can't wait until later."

Draco frowned, feeling foolish for his overreaction. He picked up his fallen stool and waited for Harry to finish up his Floo call, refilling his tea to keep his mind from overworking too much.

"Alright, so I'm just going to come out and say it," Harry decided with a pinch of heat in his voice. "Your mum told me at the park that she'd intended to kill me at the Ministry Christmas party."

Harry then went on to detail what she'd told him, and all the while Draco sat at the kitchen table, mouth open, tea forgotten, the gears of his mind grinding to a screeching stop. As Harry spoke about what Narcissa had told him, about her disguise, her plan to poison his champagne, and her apologies, Draco began to feel the anger that he'd felt when she'd first apologised to him.

"And she thought she could just keep it from me, pretend nothing had happened so I'd forgive her and be done with our differences…" Draco couldn't believe her audacity. He absolutely could not.

"She wasn't planning on telling me, either. I'm not sure why she did," Harry admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me immediately? This is pretty huge, Harry."

"Because I knew you were happy to have your mum back," Harry groaned. It was like he'd known Draco would react this way and was now just trying to bear the storm he'd anticipated. Draco took a deep breath and attempted to think rationally about the whole thing.

"She was going to kill you but changed her mind mid-plan," he stated, trying to make sense of it, "Because she saw that I was happy because of you, or happy with you. What's wrong with her?"

"I asked her that, too," Harry laughed miserably. "Is she still coming for tea tomorrow?"

"Fuck. I don't know. I'm not sure I want to see her again after finding this shit out." He'd completely forgotten about tea with Narcissa the next day, even though he'd just told Harry maybe twenty minutes prior to this turn of events.

"I think you need to talk to her about this," Harry insisted, sounding equal parts level and uneasy. "This is exactly what I thought would happen when I told you. I don't want this ruining your guys' relationship again."

"She tried to fucking kill you," Draco said slowly, as though he were speaking to a naughty child. "What about that implies I should give her the time of day?"

"The fact that she didn't?" He sounded as though he were taking a stab in the dark with that notion and Draco couldn't help but laugh a bit as Harry's voice raised in pitch with each syllable.

"Right, she only tried, that's so much better. I love having a mother who attempts to end my boyfriend's life. It's a gas."

"Alright, it's pretty fucking bad, I know," Harry agreed. "But she's sorry, and she didn't go through with it. She did threaten us, so it's not like she didn't warn us she was planning something nefarious."

"Listen, Mr. Big Words—"

"I resent that nickname," Harry cut in with a laugh.

"Anyway, listen. She may not have gone through with it, but the fact is that she planned to do it at all. I can't have her in our home, with access to our food and beverages, knowing she wanted to poison you."

"Alright, well can't you meet her somewhere public, like last time? If it helps, she promised not to do something like that again."

"Why in the world are you defending her?" Draco was utterly bewildered. Harry could've been killed at the hands of the same woman he was now trying to reason for.

"Because I guess… It doesn't matter to me anymore." And he sounded as though this was as much a surprise to him as it was to Draco.

"It… doesn't… matter. Who are you and what've you done with my Harry?" The must-be-imposter Harry crossed the room from the fireplace to stand between Draco's knees where he sat and cupped his cheeks with both hands.

"I like when you call me your Harry," he said fondly, placing a soft, lingering kiss between Draco's brows. "And the reason it doesn't matter is that I want to forgive her. For you. Because you deserve to have a relationship with your mum. She really seems sorry and I can put this behind me if it means you two can get along again."

"You're very touching, love, but my mother wanted to murder you. That's pretty hard to put behind me, especially when she tried to hide that little tidbit from me during her apology. It's the thought that counts, as they say." Draco shook his head, not understanding why Harry was being so cavalier about this. "I really don't get you sometimes."

"I had a talk with Hermione the other day," Harry said, his lips going into a contrite, stiff line. "She recommended I tell you in the first place. I wasn't going to, but she talked sense into me."

"You're lucky to have someone in your life with brains like hers," Draco said without even thinking about the fact that it was Hermione he complimented. If he'd been told a couple years ago that he'd be tossing out compliments about Harry's friends one day he'd have laughed himself mad.

"She also suggested I forgive her, for my own peace of mind. I gave it a lot of thought these past few days and, well… she's right. There's no use being angry over something that, one, didn't turn out badly and, two, most likely won't happen in the future. You have the opportunity— well, I guess we both do— to turn over a new leaf with your mum. I think we should just let this go."

Draco stared up into caring, green, bright eyes as he digested Harry's wisdom. Well, Hermione's wisdom, if credit was to go where it was due. Harry was right, Draco realised. It was a bigger deal than Harry was making it out to be, but it didn't have to be as big of a deal as Draco was making it. In the end Harry was alive and Narcissa hadn't gone through with her plans. He would, however, be having a talk with her about it.

He rolled his eyes and said, "Fine, we'll let this go. For now. I'm not over this, but I'm going to discuss this with Mother and go from there. And I'll be civil," he added for Harry's sake. "She probably won't ever be a huge part of our lives after this, but you're right, I don't want to lose her. Again." Harry's beaming smile was worth swallowing his anger and resentment, Draco thought. He leaned his face up and Harry took his hint, giving him a long, slow kiss that left Draco's toes tingling.

When Harry straightened up again he asked, "Alright, now can I go to work?" with a teasing smile on his face.

"Yes, yes, get out of here, you lazy-arse."

Draco collected another short kiss and watched Harry get whisked away to work by way of Floo. Almost as soon as he picked up his neglected tea cup he heard from up stairs a loud thump and then an even louder and more piercing wail. His cup clattered back onto the tabletop, sloshing tea everywhere, but Draco didn't care. He ran up the steps as fast as his legs would carry him and he burst into Teddy's room to find Kreacher cradling the small child in his skinny arms, shushing him and swaying him back and forth. Draco halted in the doorway, his severe upswing of panic now being quelled by utter astonishment.

"W-what happened, Kreacher?" Draco asked slowly, trying to get his bearings. Teddy was still whimpering a bit, but it was obvious that Kreacher had soothed him for the most part.

"Master Teddy has learned to escape his bed cage," Kreacher replied, sounding both impressed and disapproving.

"He climbed out of his crib?" he gasped. "How in the world…?"

"Master Teddy is learning every day, Master Draco. Kreacher is sleeping in Young Master's room. Kreacher is protecting Young Master in the night." The old elf held Teddy a bit closer to his sack-covered chest and inhaled deeply, sighing in contentment as Teddy nuzzled closer. Draco had never witnessed anything more purplexing in all his life.

"You… took it upon yourself to make sure he doesn't get hurt from climbing out of his crib at night?" Kreacher nodded solemnly at Draco. "When did you start doing this? When did he start doing this, for that matter?" Draco sat down in the rocking chair, feeling as though his knees might give out from the shock.

"Kreacher believes it has been one week," he said softly. "Master Teddy is a pleasant wizard to be around when the stench is not too much." Draco chuckled at what was probably complete seriousness on Kreacher's part.

"I can agree with that wholeheartedly. Thank you, Kreacher."

"Kreacher serves The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to his best ability, Master Draco."

"Indeed," Draco agreed as he continued to stare, wide-eyed, at the spectacle before him. For whatever reason— be it seeing a more human-esque side of Kreacher, or perhaps out of desperation— Draco had the sudden urge to get Kreacher's opinion on the major information Harry had just casually shared with him. "Kreacher, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Master. Kreacher would do anything," he replied immediately, pinning Draco with serious, bulbous eyes. Draco was slightly taken aback by the elf's dedication and loyalty; surely he'd done nothing to really deserve it. But Draco continued anyway.

"I don't really need you to do anything, it's just… I'd like your perspective on something." Kreacher looked at Draco as though he'd lost the plot, all devotion left behind at Draco's improper treating of a house elf.

"Kreacher does not know anything that Master does not already," he said slowly. Draco thought this might not be quite true, but wasn't going to distract himself from the topic at hand.

"Perhaps, but I'd still appreciate someone to listen at the very least." Draco waited for Kreacher's nod and then began. "What would you do if someone you loved dearly tried to poison me or Harry? Or, rather… What would you do if Harry or I tried to poison Teddy? This is all hypothetical, of course! We've no intention of doing something so disgusting," Draco added at Kreacher's sudden fear and obvious distrust.

Kreacher pondered this for a moment as he placed Teddy in his swing. He held up a single finger to Draco before Apparating out of the room and returning moments later with a loud crack that split the air, as well as a warm bottle of formula. Teddy took the bottle with excited leg kicks and a gurgle of spitty enthusiasm. Then Kreacher sat at the foot of Draco's chair and began speaking.

"If Kreacher's masters were threatened by anyone, Kreacher would make sure the vile person was punished," he said simply, as though it should've already been obvious to Draco that he had a streak of psychosis in him.

"Right," Draco said. "Well, I can't punish this person, really, but I'm not sure how to handle the situation."

"Master Draco said this is a hypothetical," Kreacher said, confused.

"Well, it sort of is… Someone was going to poison Harry. Someone close to me. Someone I love. They didn't go through with it, obviously, and Harry is of the opinion that I should just 'let it go,' but I don't understand why he isn't fuming like a mad man over this. I am… Or, I was before he calmed me down. I still feel like I should be fuming, though."

Very quietly, and very dangerously, Kreacher asked, "Who has threatened the life of Kreacher's master?" Suddenly realising that he should never have brought this up in the first place, Draco did his best to backtrack. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to talk to Kreacher, of all people, about this to begin with.

"That's not important. What is important is that there's no longer a threat to Harry's life at this point," Draco explained slowly, carefully. He didn't quite believe himself, but it seemed to appease Kreacher, which had been the point. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Teddy for a minute while I contact Molly?" Draco asked, suddenly realising he did have someone to talk about this to, someone who would have actual advice aside from punishment. He did plan to punish his mother for this, but he had a feeling that his idea of punishment compared with Kreacher's were two very different things.

"Kreacher does not mind," was the elf's happy reply. He smiled over at Teddy, who was still chugging away at his eight ounces and swinging gently.

"Thank you," Draco said. He stood up and kissed Teddy's forehead before heading back down to the kitchen to Floo Molly.

Tossing the powder in and calling out to the Burrow, Draco was expecting to be greeted by Molly's cheerful face. Certainly he was not expecting Arthur Weasley's tired one to look around at him from the small Weasley kitchen.

"Good morning, Draco," Arthur said, punctuating the end of his hello with a large yawn that exposed his crooked bottom teeth.

"Er, hi," Draco responded, feeling like Harry was rubbing off on him too much if he was unable to compose himself at such a small divergence from his expectations. "Is Molly around?"

"'Fraid not. She's gone to visit her mum. She's having trouble with her joints and refuses to get treated by the physical therapists at St. Mungo's. Of course then it falls on Molly to help," he grumbled. It seemed this man did know something of parents causing disorder in the household. Draco wondered idly if Arthur could help him with his problem. "Is something the matter? Is there anything I can help with? Molly probably won't be back until tomorrow at the earliest."

"Well, I was hoping to speak to Molly about this, but if you've got time…" He let his sentence go unfinished, not wishing to burden Arthur, but not knowing what else to do. If Arthur was too busy then Draco would try getting a hold of Hermione, but that would be a last resort. He had a feeling she'd only recommend forgiving his mother, just like she'd done with Harry. That's not the sort of advice Draco was looking for.

"I've got the whole day off," Arthur said with a grin. "What's the trouble?"

"I've got a problem," Draco began, feeling a bit awkward. He had never been particularly close to Arthur, after all, but Arthur didn't seem to mind, so Draco continued. He explained to him everything Harry had told him about his mother's wish to end his life, starting with her contacting Draco through letter and their meeting at the park. Arthur's demeanor changed from one of pleasant surprise to one of outrage. He appeared thoroughly disturbed when Draco finished his story with, "So yeah. That's what I'm dealing with this morning."

Arthur inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he said, "Would you mind if I came through? Have you got tea ready?"

"There can be tea made, and go right ahead." Draco was incredibly glad that Arthur seemed to take this as seriously as Draco did. It was no small thing, his boyfriend almost being murdered at the hands of his mother. The fact that Arthur recognised that made Draco feel a sort of comradery with the older wizard.

The flames in the hearth returned to their natural colours momentarily before they whooshed large and green once more. A soot covered Arthur was deposited in his fireplace. When he stepped out he cast a vanishing charm on the soot and then crossed to the table, taking a seat and looking most comfortable there. It dawned on Draco that Arthur must've been here many times, being in the Order, and that he probably did feel comfortable sitting at this table.

Realising that this was bound to be a longer conversation than he'd first assumed, Draco excused himself to go get Teddy for burping, returning to the kitchen to start a kettle boiling on the stove. As Draco was carrying Teddy down to the kitchen Draco noticed two new teeth on the bottom gums in Teddy's mouth.

"Excellent! I'm glad those came through for you alright, Teddy. We'll have to get you some toothpaste, won't we?" Draco said as he reached the kitchen and swished his wand, sending the kettle to the sink to be filled. Teddy grinned up at him and Draco sat down at the table at the end, diagonal from where Arthur sat. "Sorry about that," he said to the orange haired man who'd been sitting there patiently since he'd arrived.

"Not at all! It warms my heart to see you two together. Reminds me of when Bill was first born," he said with a smile full of memories. "You remind me an awful lot of my first son," Arthur told Teddy. "I think he even had that shade of hair."

"Teddy has a tendency to copy the hair colours of those he's fond of," Draco explained with a half-grimace. Why those people all had to be Weasleys, Draco wasn't sure, but he'd noticed that it had been quite some time since Teddy's hair had been pale blond or black.

"Ah, I see." Arthur grinned at Teddy and then focused of Draco once more, a grim look in his eye. "Is it okay to talk about this with him in the room, d'you think?"

"It's fine. He won't understand what we're talking about… I hope. I'm fairly sure he understands more than I think he does, but I know his mental vocabulary can't be large enough to understand everything we discuss." Teddy chose that moment to look innocently up at Draco, placing his pudgy hand on Draco's neck as if to say, 'I won't tell a soul any of your secrets.'

"Babies are such strange creatures," Arthur sighed. "If you're sure... Then, well, I suppose my first question is… what do you think of all this?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." The kettle began whistling loudly and Draco levitated it to the table, summoning two clean mugs to go with it. "Chai or Scottish Breakfast?"

"Breakfast, please," Arthur said with a smile. "And a bit of cream, if you've got it." He sighed and shook his head as he formulated a response. "Now, you're sure that she's telling the truth? You know, she could just be telling you this in order to put the 'fear of god' in you, as the muggles say."

Draco wasn't entirely sure what the muggle saying was supposed to mean, but he got the gist of Arthur's question anyway. "I'm sure she was serious, as awful as it is. I'm supposed to have tea with her tomorrow, seeing as I haven't cancelled, and I planned on talking to her about it then… I'm just not sure what I should say to her, or if I should be talking to her at all. She was going to murder Harry."

"Right, that's no small offense."

"I'm glad you realise that; Harry seems to think it's all just water off a hippogriff at this point."

"You mean he's not upset by this?" Arthur seemed perplexed as he spooned a large quantity of sugar into his cuppa. "He's usually one to overreact. I'm surprised to hear he hasn't stormed off to get her arrested, or something." Draco laughed, recalling Harry's reaction to finding out that he and Draco had been threatened and decided it was something that would make Arthur chuckle as well.

"When this whole ordeal started he was dead set on getting her arrested, only back then she'd only threatened us. Now he finds out she almost murdered him and it's a different tune he's singing these days," Draco chuckled. He was right, Arthur found it funny indeed and sputtered into his cup, splashing tea on the table yet again and reminding Draco he still hadn't cleaned up the other puddle. A simple cleaning charm fixed both messes, however.

"Sorry, it's just the way you put that," Arthur said, still laughing a bit. "I can't picture Harry singing at all. But that's another topic, one that's not as disturbing as your mother attempting to take his life."

"I'd have to agree," Draco said, wondering if Harry ever did sing, but dispelling the thought to focus on the most important topic. "What would you do if it were you in my shoes?"

"Oh, Merlin… If it were me?" Arthur huffed and pursed his lips, creating a row of wrinkles on his upper lip. "I'd probably have a strong word with my mum if she pulled something like this with Molly. Don't think I'd be eating or drinking anything of hers for the foreseeable future," he added with a tilt of his head. "Or inviting her to dine with us, for that matter. I'd call off tea, if I were you, Draco."

"That's what I said, too. Harry seems to think I should still talk with her, but he suggested a more public place than here at home."

"That's probably the smartest route to take, if you do plan on discussing this—" Teddy interrupted with a loud screech that seemed to be him reminding the two men that he was still there and craving attention. Draco bounced the knee Teddy sat on and kissed the top of his head, which usually soothed Teddy and worked just as well at that moment. "Set of lungs on that one, eh? Anyway, I'd suggest being honest with her about your mistrust. Tell her how you feel about what she's done and inform her that you won't trust her until she earns that trust back."

"That could very well not happen at all. If I ever do trust her again it'll be a fragile sort of trust."

"That's usually how trust works, from my experience. Fool me once, and what not."

"Fool me once?"

"Another muggle saying," Arthur explained. He seemed to be full of those. "Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, you'll have no tea. Not sure what tea's got to do with it, but I suppose it just means that once someone's broken your trust they only get so many chances before they can't earn it back again." Draco decided he'd have to ask Harry about that saying, seeing as he was raised by muggles. Draco had a feeling that's not what the saying really was, but he didn't have the heart to tell Arthur so. "Speaking of tea…" He took up the kettle and poured himself another cup.

"You don't think I'm overreacting about this, do you?" Draco couldn't help but feel Harry was downplaying the situation and he hoped he wasn't the only one who thought it a bigger deal than Harry did.

"Not at all! I'd be incensed if something like this happened to me! I'm a bit angry it's happened to you and Harry, frankly. What sort of mother tries to kill her son's partner?"

"Beats me," Draco said with a heavy sigh. "Why can't I have a mum like Molly? I can't see her ever poisoning her kids' significant others."

"No, I can't see her doing that either. Bit dramatic, I think. If it makes you feel any better, Molly does see you as one of her children," Arthur said with a small grin. He paused to sip his tea and said, as an afterthought, "Never thought I'd sit at a table with a Malfoy and be glad for it. Never thought I'd have a pleasant conversation with a Malfoy, for that matter. Sorry, that was rude, wasn't it?"

"Probably, but I take no offense. I could say the same about you Weasleys, too. This past year has been one of the strangest I've ever had. Good, for the most part, but strange." Draco paused and decided that if Arthur could make a confession at the risk of sounding rude, he could too. "I find it the most weird, though, that your family has accepted me so easily. Being invited to the Burrow for Christmas, having a good relationship with Molly, being able to joke around with Ron… It's almost like I'm in a Weasley-inspired fever dream." Arthur let out a booming laugh at that last remark, slapping his knee under the table. Draco smiled, but managed just barely hold back his own laughter.

"I'm starting to see why you and Harry get along so well," Arthur said, still grinning hugely. "I'd be surprised if you didn't feel that way, honestly. In less than a year you've been part of a war, gone to prison, been released, lost your home and then your family, found love, acquired an adorable baby—" Arthur directed his grin toward Teddy, then, and Teddy giggled, kicking his legs at the attention. "— and discovered that your mother wanted to kill the love you'd found, right after she'd made up with you for disowning you in the first place. That's a lot to take in."

"You forgot to mention the part where I was arrested shortly after finding love, simply because the Daily Prophet seemed to think that my newfound love was only the work of Unforgivables and love potions," Draco added with a grimace.

"Right, that," Arthur said with a sheepish expression. "I suppose I've got to apologise for agreeing with that article at first. It's not an excuse by any means, but after knowing Lucius for as long as I have and hearing stories about you from the boys during school… I guess I just assumed the worst. That was wrong of me. I usually tried to differentiate between you and your father, at least. Well, Molly and I both. She had to remind me more than once when I would get particularly mad at him not to group you and your mother in with my anger toward him. I was frightened you would end up just like him, if I'm perfectly honest. I suppose I ought to have given you more credit for your ability to be autonomous."

"No hard feelings. I didn't exactly give anyone reason to believe I was different, did I? For the longest time all I did was spout the same shite he did. Er, stuff, I mean. Sorry." Hearing Arthur say that he'd tried so hard not to lump him in with his father made Draco's heart swell, despite Arthur's open admittance to holding some prejudice against him. Who could really blame him?

"Not exactly, no." Arthur paused, as though he was considering whether or not he should say something. Thankfully he didn't comment on Draco's use of improper language; he was sure Molly would've.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Draco asked, feeling daring all of the sudden. He supposed part of him felt he owed Arthur something for being so willing to sit and talk with him, giving advice as though Draco were a friend rather than a long-time enemy's son.

"I was just going to ask you… Why did you choose the side you did? In the war, that is."

"The wrong side, you mean?" Draco corrected. He'd known for a while now that he'd chosen the wrong side, and not just because 'his side' lost; there was so much wrong with the decisions he'd made all his life, the ideals he'd held. If only he'd known then what he knew now. "At first I didn't exactly have a choice. You know how my parents are, but they're not completely to blame for my actions. When I got older, I genuinely thought that Voldemort would win. I thought that, even if I didn't agree with him one hundred percent, it would be ludicrous to change sides knowing that my entire family would be killed when he won. Taking the Mark is one of my biggest regrets, but I knew that it I didn't it would mean the death of my family, myself included.

"So I did what I thought I could do to help in small ways, even if I didn't really contribute to the winning of the war in any way… I still felt the need to do certain things that were probably not in my best interest, or Voldemort's. After I'd taken the Mark, though, I knew I'd permanently revoked any chance of redemption I could've had where the war was concerned— not that I wasn't too big of a coward to take my chance at redemption when it was offered to me. I thought it too late, by then." Draco couldn't pinpoint why he felt so comfortable talking with Arthur about these things, some of the most private of his thoughts that only Harry knew aside from him. It felt good, though, to get it off his chest to someone other than Harry. Talking about it probably had therapeutic qualities that Draco would scoff at if he were actually told he should see a mind healer to talk about these things.

"I don't think anyone would've trusted you, had you taken Dumbledore's offer— yes, I do know about that. Harry mentioned it to Ron at one point and I happened to overhear it. But you would've been protected, at any rate. Severus would've vouched for you."

"Well, that's not what ended up happening, much as I wish it had." Draco began to feel the heaviness of the conversation, suddenly, at the mention of Snape. After what Harry had told him so long ago Draco had a much larger soft spot for the grouchy Potions Master in his heart. Teddy, having no idea how much his comedic relief was necessary at that time, chose that moment to pass wind rather loudly, causing both men to laugh loudly at the sound.

"For such small creatures they sure do make a lot of noise, don't they?" Arthur asked, taking Teddy's hand and shaking it in a weird, but sweet gesture.

"Very true. I'd better make sure he didn't just mess himself," Draco said, ready for privacy after such a topsy turvy day. It wasn't even ten and yet he'd had a full day's worth of stress to deal with.

"I should be getting back home. Molly left me a rather long honey-do list and if I don't have it done before she gets back… well, you know how these things go." Draco nodded, even though he had no idea how 'those things' went at all.

"Thank you for the advice, Arthur," Draco said as the two of them stood up. He adjusted Teddy on his hip so he could receive Arthur's offered hug.

"Not at all, I'm happy to give it. Now, I know I'm not Molly and don't have as much stay-at-home experience, but if you ever need parenting advice from a man's perspective I'm glad to offer that as well." Arthur crossed over to the fireplace and was just about to leave when he turned around again, a handful of Floo powder outstretched behind him. "Oh, and if you'd like to fill me in on what happens with your mother I'd be grateful. Have to admit it has me a bit worried…"

"Absolutely," Draco said and nodded to Arthur as he resumed going home.

Something akin to affection grew in Draco's chest as he registered Arthur's concern about his situation. When he was alone, however, he felt just as hopeless as he had before he'd received advice. He thought about his tea date with his mother the next day and his nerves became frazzled. It was obvious they wouldn't be having tea anymore, something Draco regretted badly because of how much he missed afternoon tea with Narcissa. It couldn't be helped; it wasn't his fault his mother decided to be a crazy person. He only wished she'd thought twice before being so dramatic in her efforts to get him back. Apparently horrible decision making skills didn't only come from Lucius' side of the family…

"Teddy, what am I to do?" he asked the spit bubble blowing baby on his hip. "You're going to be walking soon, you've got teeth coming in, and you're learning new words. All I've got to say for myself is, 'well thank Agrippa my mother didn't go through with it!'" He shook his head before making his way up to the nursery to check Teddy's nappy and play for a while before nap time was due. He'd write to his mother then, but for now he just wanted to be carefree and read nursery rhymes to distract himself.