They ended up back in Islington. The pub was slightly less busy than it had been on Sunday, but it was still merry and pleasantly bustling. The girls had once again relinquished their robes, and despite Pansy's long flowing dress, they blended in perfectly. They ordered a round of Margaritas and settled at the same table towards the back, fairly tucked away from the crowds.

"So, what happened with you and Harry?" Pansy asked sympathetically, as she lit up her first cigarette and offered one to Ginny.

Ginny fumbled with the cheap plastic lighter they had borrowed from one of the bartenders. "He offered to take me out to lunch yesterday, to make up for having to rush back to work on Sunday. I was surprised when he suggested that we go to the Enchanted Swan, mainly because it's a lot more upscale than the places we normally go to," she finally lit up her cigarette and inhaled deeply. "I don't know what got into my head, but I thought he was taking me there for something eventful."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Eventful? As in, a proposal eventful?"

"I know, I know, it was ridiculous," Ginny blew out a plume of smoke. "I went to all this effort too. Bought a new dress and got a manicure–"

"I bet you looked lovely," Pansy said kindly, patting her on the back.

"She did," Hermione added encouragingly.

Ginny gave them a feeble smile. "So I got to the restaurant and waited for Harry to show up. I was there for almost forty minutes. It was so bloody mortifying. Everyone was looking over at me, and the waiter kept asking me if anyone was joining me. He had this nasty falsely sympathetic smile on his face. I just wanted to hex him."

Pansy grimaced. "That's awful."

"Eventually, I gave up waiting, paid for my drink and Apparated to the Ministry. I stormed my way into Harry's office, and it turned out he had completely forgotten we were meant to meet up–"

Hermione interjected. "That was my fault actually. Malfoy and I thought we had a breakthrough in our case."

"It wasn't your fault Hermione," Ginny assured her. "Harry should have remembered we had plans. I wouldn't have been that upset had he cancelled, it was more that he clean forgot about them. Regardless, we got into a row outside his office. He was trying to placate me and he told me how much he loved me."

"So how did that lead to the break-up?" Pansy expertly ashed her cigarette.

Ginny took a deep, shuddering breath. "He said I was special, and that I was the only girl he'd been intimate with. That led to him saying something about how we'd only ever slept with each other, at which point I told him that I'd slept with Neville–"

"Longbottom?" Pansy screeched, her jaw dropping.

"Yes," Ginny replied defiantly. "It was after Harry had dumped me back at Hogwarts, and then had taken off for parts unknown with Ron and Hermione."

Hermione gave her an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry, Gin. Harry wasn't excluding you on purpose, he was just trying to keep you safe. You were barely sixteen."

"It doesn't matter," said Ginny forcefully. "He still left.He didn't send me a single letter, or try to communicate with me in any way. Neville and I went through so much together while surviving the Carrows, and I didn't know where Harry was, or if he even still felt the same way about me. He was gone for almost a year."

"Did he seriously expect you to wait for him and stay as pure as the driven snow?" Pansy asked in disbelief. "Boys are such hypocrites. They have so many fucking double standards."

"I know," Ginny said bitterly. "On his birthday, right before he left, I tried to fish and see if we were going to be faithful while we were apart. I made a joke about him hooking up with Veelas, and he said he probably wouldn't get the opportunity, not that he didn't want to. I even gave him a fucking kiss to remember me by. If he wanted me to wait for him he should've said so."

"He definitely should've been clearer," Hermione agreed sincerely. "But maybe he didn't get a chance to, after all Ron did barge in on you both kissing."

Ginny shrugged dismissively. "He accused me of lying to him, when I never did any such thing. The second he brought up that we had only slept with each other, I set him completely straight. Does he really have the right to get angry at me over something I did when he and I weren't even together?"

Pansy picked her words carefully. "Maybe he just expected that you would tell him?"

"Why?" Ginny thundered, violently stubbing out her cigarette. "Did he tell me every detail of what he got up to with Cho? Did he give me a ballpark on how many girls he's kissed?"

"Did you ever ask–? Ah I see your point," Pansy elegantly put out her cigarette.

Hermione bit her lip, deep in thought. "When you put it that way, I can kind of see how Harry doesn't really have a leg to stand on."

"Of course he doesn't," said Ginny furiously. "If he wants to know about my past, he needs to ask. Even then, it's up to me how much I choose to divulge. Tell me Pansy, do you know exactly how many people Blaise has slept with?"

"I have a rough estimate," Pansy considered. "Only because I've been there when he's hooked up with them, and I'm assuming he slept with all his girlfriends."

Ginny turned to Hermione. "What about you? Do you know how many girls Malfoy's been with?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea," Hermione admitted, frowning.

"Exactly," Ginny slammed a fist on the table. "Bit rich of him to dump me over something like that, just because he didn't like what he heard. Then he started blaming me for Ron fighting with him, which I had nothing to do with. I ran into their office because everyone was staring at us. It's not my fault that Ron took one look at me and decided to confront Harry. I most certainly didn't put him up to it and I insisted that he apologise to Harry first thing this morning."

Hermione sighed. "Harry definitely doesn't know that you were behind Ron's apology. I can pass it on, if you want?"

Ginny shrugged dejectedly, the anger momentarily drained out of her. "It won't change things, but it can't hurt I suppose. Maybe I should've told him about Neville sooner, but by Merlin, I thought that if he wanted to know, he would ask!"

"Boys are idiots," said Pansy comfortingly.

"Gin, Harry does have the right to be upset over Neville," started Hermione circumspectly. "But he doesn't have the right to call you a liar over it. I guess he just expected you to be straightforward about it, but at the same time I can see why you feel like you didn't need to be."

"I don't know what I was meant to have done," Ginny fumed. "Was I meant to have run around informing everyone that I slept with Neville? Or should I have made an announcement out in the Daily Prophet? I also don't fucking understand when he expected me to tell him. Was I supposed to write him immediately after, when I didn't know where he was and hadn't heard from him in months? Was I meant to tell him as soon as I saw him again, even though we were broken up and it was during the final battle? Or was I to have said something right after the war, when I was still grieving for Fred?"

"He really is acting like a total jerk," Pansy said dispassionately.

Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her shirt uncomfortably. "I think Harry just needs some time to come to terms with things. He got a bit of a shock, and took it out all on you."

Ginny twirled a strand of fiery hair around her finger. "You're right," she nodded. "Let's talk about something else. How are things with Blaise?"

Hermione tuned out while Pansy relayed the Polishing charm incident to Ginny. She looked around the beer garden absent-mindedly, lost in thought about the point Ginny had raised earlier. Everyone in Gryffindor had heard wild rumours regarding Draco's promiscuity, but she strongly hoped that they were completely unfounded or at the very least, greatly exaggerated. A familiar portly figure standing near the bar caught Hermione's eye, and it took her a second to place him as the persistent admirer that Vanessa had Confunded on Sunday. She surveyed him closely, taking in his poorly buttoned shirt and weather-inappropriate shorts. The man stumbled unsteadily across the beer garden, his drink spilling over his hands. For a wild moment Hermione thought that he was still feeling the effects of the charm, but the empty glasses that littered his table put her mind at ease; he was only drunk. Hermione shook her head at her own paranoia and mentally berated herself.

Pansy nudged Hermione. "Thinking about Draco?" she teased, blowing a smoke ring.

"Why would I be doing that?" Hermione responded, guardedly.

"Oh come on, Hermione," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday. You practically went crimson when he pecked you on the lips earlier."

Ginny leaned in interestedly. "I thought you said that you and Malfoy weren't hooking up?"

"We weren't!" Hermione defended herself heatedly. "Things are a bit, I dunno, different now."

"Different how?" Ginny asked, as she filched another cigarette and lit up.

Hermione weighed her words cautiously. "We hooked up a bit not long after we got married, but then one night we drunkenly went too far and I got a bit freaked out. After that, we almost drunkenly hooked up again but we were thankfully interrupted. Since that incident we've kept to ourselves –until Friday night."

"What changed?" Pansy prodded.

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I think we were just taking things too fast initially, without really taking the time to get to know each other."

"Are you going to sleep with him?" Ginny and Pansy exchanged a glance.

Hermione threw her hands up. "I don't know," she groaned. "We're getting along better than ever, and things are starting to feel real. It's nice, but it's scary at the same time. I'm starting to actually develop feelings for him, and I'm terrified that he's going to end up letting me down. It takes a long time for me to open up to people like that and yet, we're married. It's not like I have much of a choice but to make the best of things."

Pansy looked at her compassionately. "Hermione, I've known Draco since we were in diapers. He might've been an idiot back at Hogwarts, but he's changed now. Draco may come off as a typical bloke, but he's one of the most sensitive people that I know. If he cares about you even a little bit he'll do his very best not to let any harm come to you; even from himself."

"Thanks," Hermione smiled gratefully. "Narcissa told me something similar, but I guess I needed further validation."

"Just open up to him Hermione," Ginny added sternly. "I don't know Malfoy at all, but even I can see that if you gave him a chance, he would do everything he could to make you happy."

The next two days passed in a blur of activity. Ginny had awkwardly approached Harry and Hermione to ask them if it was alright for her to temporarily move into Hermione's old room in their apartment –essentially to keep away from her mother's coddling– until she could move in with Luna, who was still away for work. Harry had subsequently attempted to move into Grimmauld Place, but Hermione had put her foot down, knowing the terrible memories it dredged up for Harry. Consequently, Harry was still staying at Malfoy Manor, much to Julius and Teddy's delight. Narcissa had been overjoyed to have the Manor bustling with children and had magnanimously offered Andromeda to come stay with them.

Another upside to Harry's extended stay was that Draco and Hermione had started a daily regimen of duelling, mainly practising jinxes they'd had no reason to use since the end of the war. Harry helped them slowly work their way through some of the basic Auror training that he had undergone himself, just in case they were in a position where they had to defend themselves again. To his surprise, Draco was as efficient a learner as Hermione, and between the two of them, they practically flew through what had taken Harry almost a month to learn. Both Draco and Hermione were fiercely competitive and eager to out do each other –leading to a lot of independent study– which was nothing short of a relief to Harry, who still felt as uncomfortable teaching as he did during the DA.

After their duels, Hermione would force both Harry and Draco to join her in channelling magic through her makeshift wands. Hermione had been privately practising ever since their return and once her initial block of actually focusing the magic had been overcome, was racing through different spells. In spite of Hermione's best efforts, neither Draco nor Harry had developed any skill in channelling their magic through the different thicknesses of wood that Hermione had painstakingly whittled. During a particularly tiresome session, Harry had pointed out something interesting that neither Hermione nor Draco had considered previously.

"Do you think that the reason you're the only one able to use the homemade wands so easily is because of the unadulterated magic thing?"

Hermione chewed on a fingernail thoughtfully. "You might be right there, Harry."

"You haven't had any accidental magic since you've been practising with them properly," Draco commented, turning the slimmest of the makeshift wands in his hands. "The time when we were abducted doesn't really count because you hadn't been practising this efficiently then. You're already up to basic second-year Charms and first-year Transfiguration."

"It takes a lot out of me though," Hermione grumbled in frustration. "I don't know how this will be useful if I keel over as soon as I perform a spell. That's probably why I haven't had any accidental magic, I'm too tired to work up a temper."

As had been the case for the last two days, Hermione retired to bed early, drained out from her efforts. She was so constantly exhausted that she would fall asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, barely aware of Draco's warm arms around her. Though a small traitorous part of her mind constantly reminded her that her main reason for trying to put some distance between herself and her husband was the conversation she'd had with Ginny on Sunday. The more she thought about it, the more perturbed she was that she knew nothing of Draco's sexual past. It didn't help that Hagrid was yet to respond to her owl, even though she knew that it was unlikely the Ministry owl would make it to France and back in less than two days. Curiosity was not something Hermione Granger dealt with patiently, and in spite of things moving along pleasantly with Draco, she couldn't help herself from holding back because of Aurelia.

It was over a particularly fine bottle of Ogden's on Thursday night, long after Hermione had retired, that Draco finally worked up the courage to bring up Harry's relationship with Ginny.

"You know, Ginny is probably a bit insecure because you both went through so much separately," Draco suggested circumspectly, once Harry had been sufficiently plied with alcohol.

"There is nothing for her to be insecure about," Harry countered, with a small frown. "I've been busy with work lately and she needs to understand that."

Draco bit back his sigh of impatience. "I'm sure she does," he said cautiously. "But at the same time she probably feels worried that you will exclude her again. Being too tired to have a meaningful conversation with her, and standing her up during lunch is not going to help her fears in the slightest. Even if you did it by mistake, that's not how she would have seen it."

Harry raked his hands through his hair. "I don't know how to fix something like that, and I don't know if I can get past her sleeping with Neville."

Draco shrugged. "That's really not something that should be a problem, Potter. She didn't cheat on you and she didn't actively hide it. How would you have reacted if she told you about her conquests as soon as you both got back together?"

"Not well," Harry admitted. "I guess there would never have been a good time for her to tell me."

"Didn't she lose a brother in the war? Maybe she was too preoccupied grieving for him and getting used to all the changes post-war to actually worry about Longbottom."

Harry slammed his goblet down on the table with a large thud. "I still would've wanted to know!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not denying that, no one is, but you need to cut her some slack. You fucked up, she fucked up, call it even."

"It doesn't work like that Malfoy," Harry responded, refilling his glass. "She fucked Neville. It's not going to just go away because I want it to."

"And you left her to go save the world," Draco reminded. "She got past that. You should try get past this too."

Harry knocked back his drink. "I think I'm drunk. You are actually making sense."

"Ah now Potter," Draco leaned back, smirking. "I am always logical and intelligent. Devilishly handsome too."

"And there's the Malfoy we all know and love," Harry muttered sarcastically.

When Draco quietly entered the master suites an hour later, he found Hermione restlessly tossing and turning. He slipped between the covers trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, but the stiffening of Hermione's scantily clad back told him that she was aware of his presence. Draco wondered if he would get away with cuddling her while she was still awake. Ever since she had gone out with Ginny, she had become distant and reserved around him.

"Hey," said Draco softly, as he edged closer to Hermione. "Sorry if I woke you. I was trying to be quiet."

"No problem," Hermione answered, without turning to face him.

Draco tentatively put an arm around her, his hand resting on her hipbone. "Is something the matter? You've been acting a bit distant towards me lately."

Hermione tensed. "No, nothing. Go to sleep Malfoy, we have work in the morning."

"Are you sure?" Draco pressed.

"How many girls have you slept with?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Draco felt his heart pound at the question. "Why do you want to talk about something like that? The past doesn't matter to me at all any more. You're my present and my future, for better or for worse, and anyone from the past belongs firmly there."

Hermione bit her lip. Sweet answer, but he is definitely evading. "It's something I should know about my husband," she said obstinately. "Why does it have to be such a big deal?"

"Because I don't want to think about my past women when I'm laying in bed with you?"

"Or because you don't want to tell me the answer?" Hermione questioned shrewdly.

Draco withdrew his hand. "Think of it what you will. Goodnight."

Friday morning dawned, blustery and downcast, perfectly reflecting Hermione's mood. She was unusually quiet during breakfast, thankful for Teddy and Julius who giggled up a storm as Harry taught them to make tiny houses out of their waffles. She couldn't help a small smile herself at the sight of Draco struggling to make four waffle walls stay put so that he could lay down the roof. Even Narcissa and Andromeda joined in, helping their grandsons by holding the walls steady while the appropriate toothpicks were inserted to make them stand unsupported. However, by the time the boys started racing each other to see who would finish his cereal first, she felt certain she was on the verge of an epileptic fit from all the flashing lights. After a hasty good-bye, she and Harry Floo'd to the Ministry atrium, where they parted ways.

By the time it hit half past eleven, Hermione was certain she was ill. Her magic had been particularly out of control all morning, probably egged on by her sour mood. It didn't help that every time she looked out her window, the stormy-grey clouds reminded her of Draco's eyes. She had already managed to break all the chairs in her room twice and eventually decided to just go home to sleep off her bad temper. She wiped all her parchments and Floo'd back to the Manor, where she was accosted by an incredibly concerned Narcissa, who had been on her way to run some errands before going to visit Draco at work, in order to make the arrangements for Julius' fourth birthday party next week. Despite Hermione's insistence, Narcissa changed her plans with Draco, stating that she would drop by after work instead, and put Hermione to bed.

Hermione had been listlessly tossing and turning for nearly three hours, listening to the storm outside, when she heard a hesitant knock on the door. "Come in," she called, wondering who it could be.

Narcissa walked through. "I thought you might be awake. If I wouldn't be imposing, would you like me to have a late lunch brought up here?"

"Of course you wouldn't be imposing," Hermione replied, sincerely. "Please, sit."

Narcissa called for their tray before she perched elegantly on the foot of Hermione's bed. "Hermione dear," she started delicately, looking uncomfortable. "Is something the matter with you and Draco? You both seemed to be getting along so well, and now…"

"It's hard to explain," Hermione muttered evasively.

"I won't interfere then," said Narcissa gracefully, respecting Hermione's right to privacy. "Though I will strongly suggest that you have a frank discussion with Draco."

"I don't know how much that will help," commented Hermione, sourly.

Narcissa inclined her head gracefully. "You won't know until you try."

True to her word, Narcissa dropped the topic and diverted Hermione's attention to the preparations for Julius' birthday party. They shared a pleasant meal of cold meats and stuffed bread, after which Hermione felt herself feel almost back to normal. After their meal was done, they sipped some rich hot chocolate while watching the raindrops swirl outside, admiring the way they splattered against the French windows. The peace was only broken when a dripping owl swooped in an hour later. Hermione dried off the owl and gave it some leftover bread before she opened the soaked letter with slightly trembling fingers. Hagrid's untidy scrawl greeted her, as she quickly skimmed through the contents.

Dear Hermione,

Good to hear from you. Olympe and I are doing fine.

I asked her about Aurelia, but she said she can't remember any student with that name. Her mind's not what it used to be though, after her accident.

Likely her memory has been addled from the pain.

Sorry I wasn't any help.

Hagrid.

Hermione crushed the letter in her hand, feeling a wave of disappointment sweep over her.

"Not bad news?" Narcissa surveyed her with concern.

"No, nothing of that sort," Hermione reassured her, forcing herself to take deep breaths. "I think I might go visit Malfoy, I could help him with the arrangements. That is, if you don't mind?"

Narcissa fluttered her fingers airily, looking pleased. "By all means dear, go ahead. Are you sure you feel up to it?"

"Definitely," said Hermione firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Hermione had only been to Draco's Potions company once previously. It had been a hasty visit not long after their rushed engagement, however, she resolutely drew on the memory of the ornate front lobby and Apparated there with a faint crack a second later. She walked up to the engraved marble box that she knew acted as a sort of intercom, and tapped her wand on it once as she had seen Draco do.

"Name and purpose of visit?" a cool disembodied voice called out.

"Err –Mrs Malfoy," Hermione stumbled over the still unfamiliar title. "Here to see Draco Malfoy."

"Come through the glass doors at the end of the hallway, Mrs Malfoy. I will inform Mr Malfoy that you're here."

Hermione walked through the glass doors that had materialised in place of the solid wall that had been there two seconds previously. The doors led out to the bottom step of an elegant winding staircase, made entirely out of sparkling glass, which gently started moving as soon as she set her foot on it. The staircase picked up momentum and Hermione had the vague feeling of having gone through two floors before the staircase stopped at an elaborate marble foyer. She stepped off, taking a minute to admire the tasteful décor, before she walked through another set of glass doors and straight into Draco's office.

Her first impression was that the room was made entirely out of windows. A second look around the office had Hermione correcting her assessment; three of the walls had been replaced by French windows that looked out to nothing but fluffy clouds, a sight that was pleasantly reminiscent of looking outside the window of an airplane. From the steely colour, Hermione gathered that the clouds mimicked the actual wet weather outside. The fourth wall, which housed the doors Hermione had just walked through, melted behind her to mimic the other three.

"Granger?" Draco looked up from his marble desk to survey her in confusion. "Where is mother? Why aren't you at work?"

"I wasn't feeling too well earlier," Hermione declared, as she sat down on a ludicrously comfortable chair. "I took the day off work and offered to come instead of Narcissa."

"What happened?" asked Draco, sounding worried.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Nothing to worry yourself over, I just had a headache that's all," she lied, unwilling to worry him. "I feel much better so I'm here to help with the party preparations –if you want me to, that is," she added shyly.

Draco's demeanour changed abruptly. "Of course I'd want you to help," he said warmly, as he pushed his work aside. "I'm glad you came to visit. This is the first time you've been in here, right?"

"Yes, and I'm not surprised in the slightest that your office looks as though it's floating on clouds," Hermione teased, grinning. "You always did want to feel like you were above everyone else."

"Or perhaps I really like flying?" Draco suggested easily, as he leaned back casually in his chair. "Look at the floor."

Hermione looked down to her feet, and to her surprise, the floor was also made completely of glass and had been charmed to look as though they were miles above the city. All of London, muggle and Wizarding alike, lay in tiny replica at their feet. It was a tribute to how impressed she was by the windows that she had missed the spectacular floor entirely.

"It's lovely," she commented earnestly.

"I'm glad you like it. I thought you were afraid of heights?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose slightly. "Only when I'm on a broom or on a rooftop. I have no problem with heights otherwise."

"So you're afraid of falling then," Draco murmured, as an odd look flashed across his face.

Before Hermione could respond, a blinding blue light filled the office, followed closely by a loud explosion that threw Draco and Hermione towards opposite ends of the fancy room. Hermione, still in the chair, felt herself fly through one of the walls –having a split second view of the glass floor crumbling– and landed on the soaked grassy lawns outside the building. Finally extricating herself from the velvet chair, that had mercifully broken her fall, Hermione fell to all fours shakily and revelled in the feel of solid earth under her hands and feet once again. She took a few calming breaths before she looked up at the building, uncaring of her rapidly drenching robes.

The second floor had almost entirely crumbled into the first. Hermione recognised Draco's marble desk haphazardly strewn across the marble foyer that the 'intercom' was placed in. Everywhere she looked, she could see greedy golden flames eagerly devouring the flammable silk curtains and priceless Arabian rugs. The fire appeared to have started in what had once been a spacious Potions laboratory, which now only housed melted twists of pewter cauldrons. Even as she watched, a stream of multicoloured liquid flowed into what appeared to be a boardroom, and exploded as soon as it came in contact with the large wooden table and plush chairs.

Instantly, Hermione's brain snapped out of shock and clicked into gear. She pushed her dripping hair out of her face as she looked around wildly for Draco, squinting to overcome the poor visibility courtesy of the pelting rain. "Malfoy!" she shouted brokenly, as she scrambled up to her feet, hoping that her voice would carry over the storm.

Hermione slipped and staggered in the wet mud as she clumsily approached the burning building. "Malfoy!" she called out again, feeling terror overtake her.

"Granger!" Draco stumbled out from behind the flaming walls. The left side of his face looked bruised, and there were small cuts all over his pale arms, but apart from that he was virtually unharmed.

"Draco," Hermione half screamed, half sobbed. She ran to him and flung her arms around his dripping neck. "Oh thank Merlin you're alive."

He pulled her tightly against his soaked chest. "We're alive," he mumbled raggedly, sounding as though he was in shock too. "I don't know what I would've done if something had happened to yo–"

Hermione placed a finger over his wet lips. "Shh, we're both fine," she soothed him, as he clutched her firmly. "We're fine Draco, we're both okay."

Draco dug his hands fiercely through her sodden hair and pulled her face close to his own. He searched her face desperately, as though memorising every droplet that clung to her sweeping lashes, before he frantically sought her lips with his own. Hermione was momentarily taken aback by his needy, clinging hold on her, before she passionately returned the kiss. She pulled him against her even more strongly than before, as she closed her fingers around the dripping hair at his nape. Draco's tongue plundered her mouth almost violently, egged on by her hold on his hair, and Hermione reciprocated the bruising kiss with an intensity she didn't know she possessed.

They broke apart several minutes later, panting.

"Fuck," Draco swore as he looked at the flames, suddenly remembering where they were. "Fuck fuck fuck. I've got to go inside."

"Are you mental?" Hermione stared at him, flabbergasted.

"You don't understand Granger, I have to go inside," Draco pleaded desperately, rivulets of water running down his platinum hair and into his stormy eyes, as he untangled his arms from her and started walking towards the dancing flames.

Hermione grabbed his arm forcefully. "What the hell is so important that you need to run inside a burning building to retrieve?"

Draco threw her off. "Let me go," he hissed dangerously. "I need to go find my desk now. It's marble so the fire wouldn't have damaged it much." He turned back towards the building and started walking faster than before.

"Malfoy, you're not thinking rationally," Hermione berated, hot on his heels.

"Either help me or leave," Draco snarled, his eyes flashing.

"Fine," Hermione bit her lip. "Your desk fell through into the front lobby."

Draco nodded his thanks as they walked through, his posture stiff and tense. He pulled out his wand and viciously cast several Aguamentis at the flames closest to him, forging a charred path to the heavy desk that had broken in half. Hermione hesitated, and then followed behind him, putting out the tiny flames that had started to spring up again. The rain had pelted out all the candles, leaving the room covered in a greyish cast from the clouds above. The entire lobby was full of heavy, noxious smoke, but Draco seemed unconcerned as he anxiously tried to pry open a marble drawer.

"Fucking thing is jammed," he grunted, as he struggled to pull it open.

Hermione walked up next to him, her robes dragging in the pool of water that had gathered behind the desk. "Let me," she instructed gently, as she surveyed the smashed drawer. "I could try repair it, but I'm hesitant to take the risk in case whatever's inside is gets caught when the desk reforms. It's probably fallen into the shaft behind the drawer by now. Can you find me something metallic?"

"Will this do?" Draco held up a large metallic sword that belonged to one of the now destroyed statues in the lobby.

Hermione assessed it carefully. "Perfect. Hand it over."

She focused intently and Transfigured the flimsy sword into a sturdy crowbar. Images of her father wrestling with his came to her mind as she positioned it against the drawer carefully to gain appropriate leverage. After a terse minute, Hermione felt the drawer yield. "Got it!" she exclaimed, as he levitated the drawer out and lowered it into the now knee-deep pool of water they were standing in. He cast a Feathlerlight charm on it, making the heavy drawer float.

"Wait!" Hermione yelped suddenly, and swatted his hand away as he reached for a box inside the drawer. "Do you remember the flash of blue light in your office? They're all Portkeys!"

Draco looked to her in horror. "You really think someone converted most of my office into a Portkey?"

"No, just the items on your desk," Hermione scrambled to determine just how many of the items from his desk were still littered around the lobby. "Possibly all the contents inside it too."

"I need that box," Draco cried, sounding panicked. "I can't leave it behind."

Hermione thought carefully. "If they did turn manage to turn the contents of your desk into Portkeys, it wouldn't have extended to the contents of the box. The box itself may be one, but the contents should be safe. We will have to levitate them out quickly."

"Okay," mumbled Draco in relief. "I can do that."

With shaking hands, he carefully aimed at the box and levitated the lid open. His brow furrowed in concentration, he cautiously extracted the contents. Hermione felt her blood run cold as she saw, floating in mid-air: an ornate lace veil that looked centuries old, a sparkling ring with a large diamond flanked by two emeralds, several frames with moving pictures, a heavy gold heart-shaped locket and two filigree wedding bands.

"Grab them, Granger," instructed Draco, sweating with the effort of keeping the items aloft.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling bile rise up her throat, as she carefully plucked the items one by one. There was something severely disconcerting about holding her husband's dead wife's things. Draco let the box drop with a thud and relieved Hermione of all the items, except the veil, and started to put them away in the inner pockets of his robes as they walked out. Hermione looked down at the veil, scrutinising it closely. It was easily the most beautiful veil she had seen, her own included, made of scalloped lace and embedded with seed pearls. Hermione felt numb as images flashed through her mind. Images of Draco getting down on one knee as he presented Aurelia with the diamond and emerald ring, of Aurelia walking down the aisle wearing the encrusted veil over her dark blonde curls, of them slipping the filigree wedding bands on to each other's fingers, them making vows to love each other, them lovingly conceiving their adorable son…

Draco paused as they approached the lawns and turned to look back at the burning building. He trembled at the sight of his whole life ablaze in front of him, at his years of hard work destroyed. Hermione felt awkward, as though she was witnessing a private moment. She had never seen him lose his composure like this. She looked down at his shaking hands, and then at the veil she was still clutching, catching sight of her wedding ring glittering from the flickering flames in front of them. Without realising what she was doing, she slowly interlaced her free hand with his.

"For better or for worse right?" Hermione said raggedly, as Draco looked down at their entwined fingers.

Draco nodded, his throat thick with emotion.

He squeezed Hermione's hand tightly as they turned their backs on the flames in front of them, ready to walk out into disaster together, their heads held high.

A/n: Thank you all so much for the reviews! They make me smile and send my muses into overdrive :)

Hope that you all like this chapter. I really enjoyed writing this, having had the fire scene planned almost from the start of this story.

As always, I'd love to hear about bits you particularly liked or disliked. Thank you all for the alerts and favourites, and a special shout out to my repeat reviewers. I wait for your reviews after every chapter because it's always rewarding to see continual feedback. Happy reading!