A/N: I would like to thank all of the new readers I suddenly accumulated! Since this story is winding down (there will be three more chapters after this one) I have decided to hold a contest! Whoever answers my question correctly will win a one-shot, either in my "Seventh Year" universe or in any specified AU, EWE, or Epilogue Compliant universe. Although I have a favorite non-canon pairing that I would love to write about, I will be willing to negotiate the content (pairing) of the one-shot with the winner!

The question: Which character is based off my roommate, the girl I wrote this story for?

Good luck!

The Seventh Year

Chapter 14

The Bequeathing and the Study Session

Erin woke up late and lay in bed until Marisa yelled at her to get up and eat. Roused by the threat of an Aguamenti charm, she let Marisa drag her to lunch. The two ate in a quiet corner of the Hall and Erin was in a whimsical mood so they bickered about a set of Muggle books she had made Marisa read during the summer.

Malfoy somehow managed to appear before they left, but he thankfully stayed clear of their table. Erin was still very confused about the current situation with the pale, blond-haired teenager. "What do you think he's playing at?" she mused as she finished off her bacon and abruptly changed the subject.

Marisa blinked. "I don't think he's playing at anything, you daft bint," she returned easily, used to her sister's sudden jumps in conversation.

Erin glared at her. "I am not daft. I am merely being cautious."

"Overly cautious. All right, ferret-boy?"

Erin tensed momentarily, the now annoyingly familiar warm, fluttering sensation spreading through her stomach, and then slowly turned as he said easily, "Hullo, Benz-Duex. Lovely afternoon isn't?"

"It's afternoon already?" Erin murmured. "We'd best get back to our books before the Halloween Feast then, eh, Marisa?"

"I was just going back to our common room," the Head Boy said smoothly. "Mind if I walk with you?"

"Well this is familiar," Erin grumbled to Marisa as they rose from the table. "I'm surprised you haven't disappeared yet."

"Isa," purred a voice from behind them. "I reckon I'll come study with you lot. That will be just splendid, right?"

Marisa ground her teeth together at the nickname and spun around to give Blaise a piece of her mind. That argument lasted until the four of them had reached the Head Dorm, and Erin was supremely grateful that Malfoy hadn't gotten her into a deserted corridor alone again. She quietly retreated to her desk on the far side of the room as Marisa and Blaise sank into a couch, now heatedly discussing the proper usage of stewed shrivelfig pods.

Malfoy disappeared for a few minutes before settling down at his desk, and the four of them actually worked for about an hour (Blaise and Marisa managed to finish their Potions essay in record time).

"I told you that it would be best to write about Shrinking Solutions!" Marisa said triumphantly. "Although basic, the description of the transformation into the more complicated Shrinking Drought is perfect for Slughorn."

"Right as always, Isa," Blaise sighed. He could see Marisa bristling at the further usage of her ill-liked nickname and hurriedly said, "Hermione is coming by in a bit isn't she? Maybe she'll check and see if I wrote down the right stirring techniques for a Shrinking Drought."

"Hermione probably finished it last week," Marisa grumbled. "She probably wrote about the use of shrivelfig in French love potions."

Draco appeared next to Erin's desk and said casually, "All right there, Benzene?"

"Mhhm," she murmured, putting the finishing touches on a History of Magic essay. "Get any work done, Malfoy?"

"Sort of. When are your mates coming over?"

"Considerate, Malfoy, very considerate. Be careful or Blaise will start calling you soft."

"Well I know girls need ages to get ready for anything. Oi!" He ducked the quill she chucked at him and scowled. "Next time you need to borrow one of my quills, ask!"

"That wasn't—well you leave them lying all over the place, anyway," Erin said off-handedly. "And by the way, Malfoy, I want you to have this back."

She carefully placed a box with a clear lid in his hands. The necklace he had given her could be seen gleaming dully beneath the surface of the glass.

Malfoy looked at it for a moment, his expression unfathomable, before he carefully removed the lid and fished out the heirloom. "This is very old," he said softly. "It belonged to my great-great-great-great-grandmother."

"Which is precisely why I cannot take it," Erin interjected seriously, also keeping her voice down so that they wouldn't disturb Marisa and Blaise. Hermione had been let in and was now talking with them animatedly about shrivelfig Shrinking Droughts and French love potions. "Just look at it, Draco, anyone can see that it is a priceless and cherished possession of an old wizarding house. I simply cannot accept it, and you mum would at least miss it, I reckon."

She was treated to the Malfoy signature smirk, and was suddenly very glad that she had never had the pleasure of facing his father during the Battle of Hogwarts. Although Mr. Malfoy was out of Azkaban, he was under house arrest and not really capable of disturbing anyone's life any more. She was more than grateful; she had had more than a couple of nightmares from the stories she had wheedled out of Hermione about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's base of operations.

This struck a strange thought: would she have to live there if. . .?

She fervently quashed where that thought was going because it was incredibly too soon for that. And she had forgiven Malfoy, even Harry and Hermione seemed to have forgiven him. The Malfoy Manor be damned.

She would probably have to go there if. . .his parents. . .Stop, she told herself. Stop getting ahead of yourself. You don't have to worry about any of this yet.

Ron suddenly appeared and started begging Hermione for help with his own shrivelfig essay, but Hermione only laughed and started teasing him, saying that someone who thinks they can speak Parseltongue should be able to slither their way out of the Head of Slytherin's essay quite easily. Erin smiled; Hermione's attitude had definitely taken a turn for the better after the war and after retrieving her parents from Australia.

"No one cares about old wizarding houses," Malfoy told her impatiently, ripping her attention away. "I mean look at Weasley over there, he can't even write a decent shrivelfig essay."

He'd raised his voice a bit, and this made the four behind them fall silent. "Malfoy," Hermione began, her voice a bit shocked.

"Oh get on, you big git," Ron grumbled. "What a load of rubbish. And my essay will be just as good as yours."

"I still care about old wizarding houses," Blaise said lazily.

"Oh shut it, Blaise," Hermione said. "Malfoy, I'm impressed."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron growled. "But seriously, Parseltongue aside, I am no match for Slughorn, please—"

"I agree with Hermione, Malfoy," Erin told him, ignoring Ron's further begging. "I'm impressed."

"Since when can you speak Parseltongue?" they heard Blaise interrupt, and Erin stifled a grin.

"I had a good teacher," Malfoy shrugged. "Anyway, I want you to have it. And Mum gave it to me a while ago, she told me to bequeath it wisely."

In Erin's mind that sounded like Narcissa Malfoy had said something along the lines of, "Chose wisely when you decide to use this with your marriage proposal," but decided to ignore her inner Lady Malfoy. "Um," she cleared her throat. "Why does it have four pomegranate seeds entwined with a snake?"

He also cleared his throat and then said in a completely emotionless voice, "When my great-great-great-great-grandfather met Persephone, he was completely taken. She was from another one of those ancient families, Crouch clan, I think. He had the necklace made and convinced her to give him a chance over the course of a week. Apparently he kidnapped her at the end of the week and gave it to her. She was touched and her family made sure that they got married."

"Cliché, but cute," Erin muttered. "Did she love him?"

"I mean, I reckon it was a gradual process. My father told me that she was a bit reluctant at first, but over time she came to genuinely love him. Especially because they only lived at Malfoy Manor four months out of the year; the rest of the time they traveled or visited her family."

"You are joking," Erin smiled. "You have to be."

Malfoy shrugged. "Father told me the story and the moral was that Malfoys always get what they want."

"What a bloody brill moral," Erin muttered.

"I think I may have told you that before, love." Now he was perched on the desk and he leaned in close. She couldn't help but notice his cologne, and she melted a little inside. She'd noticed it in the bathroom right after he had received an owl two days before. She suddenly felt a bit like a stalker and almost giggled. "Malfoys always get what they want."

"I don't doubt that," she said faintly. "But I do doubt Malfoys knowing what they want."

"That might be true," he mused. "But I am sure this time."

The molten look was back in his eyes. "I don't doubt that, Draco," she murmured, taking a deep breath, surprising herself with how calmly she was taking this situation. "But that doesn't change the fact that I cannot keep this necklace."

He looked a bit taken aback, and then told her quite sternly, "If you don't doubt what I want, then you should keep the necklace."

"The story was beautiful, although the arrogance at the end was a bit annoying, but after hearing it, I still don't feel like it would be right if I kept it. Were you trying to change my mind?"

"Possibly." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Did it work?"

"It might if I don't move away from you," she exhaled. "Did your mum pick out the cologne?"

"No, Pansy did," he smirked. "I thought I saw you sighing in ecstasy yesterday morning."

So he had seen her open the bottle. She shoved him. "Oh, come off it," she grumbled. "You are such an arse."

"At least you love my—"

"Leave Erin alone, Malfoy," Hermione said good-naturedly, bustling over to grab the Head Boy. "We are going to get ready for the Feast. You lot are going to leave."

"I am not going anywhere with the ferret," Ron said loudly.

"If you are going there, we're cousins, Weasel," Malfoy smirked. "Don't treat family so harshly."

"Leave," Marisa told Blaise, pointing at the portrait hole.

"Alright," he said, getting up and stretching. "You'll warm up to me at the Feast."

"Did he just—" Erin asked flabbergasted as the girl reading her book swung shut behind the nonchalant Slytherin.

Hermione was now shoving a protesting Ron out behind Blaise, so she hadn't seen him kiss Marisa on the cheek.

Malfoy took this opportunity to lean back in and say softly, "Wait until my speech at the feast. You'll see why I want you to have it. Wear it."

She turned away, and stared at the box for a moment before nodding minutely. She stayed frozen for a few minutes, at least until there was silence, and then looked up. "Draco left right?" she asked nervously.

"I'm so proud that you learned his first name," Marisa sneered.

"Just tell me if he left," she said, exasperated.

"Yeah."

"What was that with—"

"I'll just go let in the others, shall I," Hermione chipped in.

"Best idea ever, all of us getting ready here!" Erin told her, flashing the Gryffindor a grin.

"Uh huh. Best idea ever," Marisa muttered.

"Just let yourself back in," Erin told Hermione, before rounding on her sister. "Marisa, he kissed you!"

Marisa looked a bit red. "The smarmy git," she growled.

"I told you in fourth year—"

"Maybe he just wanted to annoy me, I don't know!"

"He clearly—"

"What about Daphne Greengrass, sixth—"

"Minor setback, you—"

"I am not!"

"And you spend all sorts of time together, it only stands to reason! If I had to admit to liking Draco Malfoy, then you should at least admit to—"

Then Ginny, Sophie, Hermione, Cat, Jin, Natalie, Katya, and Luna trooped into the common room in an onslaught of laughter and babble, carrying costumes, board games, and a wizarding radio. Erin let the subject of Blaise Zabini slide, and they were soon happily playing Scattegories and listening to the Weird Sisters. McGonagall thankfully didn't do detentions on weekends, so the twins were scot-free for now, and they had a couple hours to spare before they actually had to go to the feast.

A/N: This chapter just kind of ran away from me. I couldn't stop writing, so you got like an extra four-ish pages. Dear Draco Malfoy. Why aren't you real?