Hermione sat on the magnificent bed in the equally impressive room she had been shown to. She glanced around, taking it all in. The room was huge, the first thing you saw upon entering was the bed, dark stained mahogany with an ornately carved headboard. The colors were, to put it plainly, plain. White, or beige, maybe. It was only a spare room after all, even though one might expect the room to be decorated in a more rich taste. There was a fire place directly across from the bed, and bookcases surrounded a small panel of windows off to the left. On the left of the fireplace was a closet, the right was the bathroom. There was the same deep mahogany used for the bookcases, chair frames, and floor and ceiling trim.

Absently smoothing her bedspread, Hermione sighed. This was no doubt going to be a very odd few weeks.

Living with the Malfoys. Wait…living WITH the Malfoys!? How weird was THAT? Well, not so much, she supposed. Oh, hell, yes it was.

The entire fact they were still alive was strange enough in itself. Draco, yes, the little snot Draco had switched back over. What Dumbledore had told him had, as intended, gotten to him. He knew Voldemort had a good plan, but he had been raised to cover all the bases, so Draco knew that every plan has a chance of failing. The only reason he had joined was because his father, mother and tradition had played key parts in his decision. (Let us all remember that peer pressure is a very bad thing). So, he boldly switched sides.

Draco knew that there was a chance that he would die doing so, but he also knew there was a greater chance he would die staying with the Death Eaters. He had gone to Professor McGonagall, begging for assistance. His father had known nothing about it, he WAS in Azkaban, after all. Draco gave all he knew to the Order, and they gave him protection.

After that little conference, he went to another, on a certain undetectable, formidable island. The conversation he had with his father started off rockily. Or, rather, like this.

"You did WHAT?!" in a very low, enraged hiss.

Lucius might have been madder than the fires of hell, but he still didn't want his son to die, so he tried to keep his voice low, in case other prisoners in contact with the Dark Lord were listening.

Draco had calmly explained that if they wanted survival, or the chance of it, they needed to change sides. It was inevitable, the only choice. Lucius had countered with countless things, from certain death via Voldemort to disgracing the family name. Draco had merely shrugged and mentioned that they were the only Malfoys left, and death for a real reason instead of a diseased one was far better. The argued quietly for a few moments, and Draco left, this time accompanied by Order members, headed for the protection of Hogwarts.

Lucius was left stunned, alone, and questioning in his cell. He had the knowledge that his son would give everything, everyone, up. All the various weapons, locations, and artifacts would be revealed, and the ones in the Manor would be taken away. He huddled in the corner of his cell, terrorized by thoughts of death, destruction, and disgrace. Visions of his son dying, being tortured, crossed his eyes like a twisted slideshow. He loved his son. He had never had reason to think about it before, but as he envisioned the different ways of his son's demise, it occurred to him that he would rather die than have his son's life snatched from him.

Lucius was also confronted with the information that Voldemort was going to kill his son as it was. His son, who he could do nothing to protect. Because the boy, or man, as he was now, had been unable to complete a fools errand. His son was innocent. This also dawned on him. It was because his son was an innocent that he couldn't kill the old professor. His son was far too pure to kill. Maybe he had done some nasty things in school, but that's what he was taught. Exposure to the brutal truth had reversed all that. Lucius closed his eyes and thought about the man who had come to see him a few hours previous. Draco had grown, so much. He was handsome, headstrong, and as smart as he could be. In effect, the model son. He had come to save his sinful father, protect him. That was enough. He came to change his father, set him straight. His son loved him, even though he had put Draco through so much.

Lucius felt as though he were a child again, scared and vulnerable to his family's manipulations. If he wanted to survive to see more of his son, to see where life took him, maybe he would get married, have grandchildren even! He would do it. For his son. Lucius Malfoy changed for his son.

Headmistress McGonagall received a summons from the deepest cell in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy requested an audience, on whatever conditions she had. Draco watched her leave with an exhausted smile and the sense of utmost relief. He wasn't entirely trusted by members of the Order, but the headmistress knew that he was truly changing.

Then, Lucius entered the picture. Even though in the back of her head, she felt that she was running a school, not a refugee hotel, it was decided between McGonagall and the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, that it would be advertised he was being moved to a more secluded part of the prison when in fact he was to be kept under wraps at Hogwarts.

Upon the smuggled arrival, Draco ran up to his father, and stopped, not sure what to do. Lucius stopped walking in the middle of his armed battery, taking in his son. He made a hesitant move towards him, then paused. After a moment, Draco gave up and fell forward, hugging his somewhat stunned father, who breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him back. The group of aurors were silent, uncomfortable to be privy to this rather odd yet touching moment. Draco followed his father all the way to the empty room he would be kept in, talking. Just like that, talking.

And so, the Malfoy men were on the side of Light. Very simply. Lucius eased into it, still rather haughtily, unlike Draco, who threw himself into it full force.

Hermione sighed once more, leaning back on the bed, to stare at the ceiling. Then the war had come. They had all fought as bravely as possible. In the brief moments of peace, they would all converge on Grimmauld Place, to drink, eat, and attempt merriment. This had been the continued tradition, even after the war's end, monthly get togethers at the Weasley's or Grimmauld Place. But, on with the war memories. Draco and Lucius had both fought, extremely well. They were better accepted in the Order, and Lucius had relaxed considerably. As soon as humanly possible, Harry did away with Voldemort, forever this time, and the Malfoys could make a public appearance once more.

The strategy was later described by Harry and the members of his former Quidditch team as reminiscent of what Oliver Wood had once told him, to catch the snitch as early as possible in the game.

And Draco and Lucius had blended as still astute, prominent figures in society. Some people still were wary, habitually, but Hermione had made it her personal mission to try and work them into her circle. She usually remembered to call Draco by his first name, though it was very hard sometimes, and he aimed to work on it as well. Lucius remained Mr. Malfoy however, until one night at the house on Grimmauld, they were talking and he decided she could just call him Lucius. Draco thought this was funny. Hermione thought it was progress.

So, distant friends were Hermione and the Malfoys, but they could nonetheless still say hello on the street. But LIVING with them? And for how long?

Hermione screwed up her face, she should've thought this out better. She moaned slightly. This brought her to the topic she really didn't want to think about.

Ron.

Idiocy. The entire thing was idiocy! During the war, to a stranger it might have looked like they were married. Then, the war was over, they remained close. But…Ron got annoying. Second guessing himself, Hermione, if she loved him, he needed her, he got downright clingy. Hermione coped. They lived together, and they still started to avoid one another. As sad as it made her, they were going to break up. Everyone knew it. And it didn't sting, she knew it was going to happen, and happen for the best! Right?

Wrong. At the get together, of all places, he quietly said the relationship had fizzled. He didn't want to be with her any more. Ron really hoped this wouldn't change their friendship. Hermione smiled a little sadly, about faced, and high tailed it out of there. It hurt so much more than expected.

Someone rapped at her door. Hermione sat up abruptly, startled. She got up and opened it. Draco stood there, eyebrows raised as a realization she opened the door. He took his hands out of his pockets, and asked "May I come in?"

"Of course!" Hermione said, giving a small smile.

Draco stepped inside, making a face at the beige. "Well, I was just wondering how you were doing, is everything alright with the room?"

"Yes, everything's perfect." Hermione answered.

He gestured at the carpet. "Everything?" was his disdainful response.

She laughed, blushing. "Well, it's just a color."

"Mm. Well, I will see you in the morning, then, I suppose." He turned to leave, then stopped, studying her. "Yes, well," he flicked his wand and the room blossomed into a lavender shade, highly accented with the nearly black mahogany. "You looked like a lavender person." He shrugged.

Hermione smiled, actually looking happy for a second. "Thanks, Draco! Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow."

Draco smiled and turned towards the door. "Goodnight, Granger." He groaned and swiveled towards her. "Sorry, Hermione, it was the 'g's, association, you know."

Hermione laughed a little. "It's alright, Draco, I don't care."

He smiled once more, and left. He hadn't gotten outside the door before the black shape had accosted him. He held in a yelp as his father smirked at him from his COMPLETELY un-Lucius position, leaning against the wall on his elbow, hand nestled in his gleaming hair.

"Merlin, father! Don't DO that!"

"Tucking in Miss Granger?" His father said sweetly, smiling impishly.

Draco's face deadpanned. "What the hell?" Oh, father and son!

"Nothing, Draco. Off to bed?"

"Yes, and unless you intend on standing there in that utterly feminine position for the rest of your life, you should too." Draco said astutely, and turned down the hall. He decided that his father was plainly crazy, or had another glass of his special reserve brandy.

Meanwhile, Hermione prepared for bed. Once again, that little voice tried to persuade her to cry, to be upset while she could. After she had turned the lights out, and climbed into her bed, she realized how exactly lonely the bed felt, the absence of someone at her back. Her lip trembled slightly, and she took a shuddering breath. Finally, she allowed herself to succumb to persistent tears. Softly, she reached next to her bed and pulled her soft stuffed alligator up to her chest. His little cushy body gladly accepted the tears that fell on his back, and she felt slightly comforted. After all, there is no best friend like an inanimate object.

Okay, so, i dont know if this is what my three treasured reviewers were looking for, but here it is! idk, i sort of think that the end wasnt very good, but i just had this random mental image of Lucius looking like that, and i had to stop typing i was laughing so hard, and i needed to stick it in or i would combust. Also, it sorta goes from funny to depressed, but...here's the chap. review, please! let me know how badly it sucked XD