They ended their brief sojourn at the end of the week. Regular inspections of Hermione's parents showed nothing excepted that they didn't recognise her at all, were only interrupted by occasional sight-seeing. Soon they were flying back to Gatwick, just two days after Hermione's parents had left to return to Australia.

The plane journey back was uneventful- if still unfortunately painful for Draco's hand at take-off and landing – and before long they had passed back through immigration and collected their baggage. After that it didn't take long for them to leave the terminal and head back to the station. On the platform however, their plans went awry, for they met someone who they did not expect to see.

'Kingsley? How's tricks?'

'Fine thank you. I was hoping to have a word.'

'Do we need to go somewhere more private?'

'I think so. Do you mind if Miss Granger joins us?'

'Not at all.'

'Then I think we should board the train and then we can be discrete, if you catch my drift.'

'Certainly.'

They boarded the train and headed down one of the aisles to an out of the way corner. Kingsley stuck his arm forward. They grabbed hold of it and instantly reappeared in a rather luxurious office. Dark wood panels lined the walls. A thick red carpet was on the floor and on top of that was a Spartan desk, although clearly old and well-made. Above the desk hang the only light in the room. Shacklebolt wandered over to the only other item of furniture in the room, a sideboard above which hung a portrait of an elderly wizard. He reached down and grabbed three glasses and a decanter of something, which he brought back to the desk. He sunk slowly into his seat and poured out three drinks, gesturing for Draco and Hermione to sit down and take a glass.

This they did and after the first few sips of the subtle liqueur Kingsley began to speak.

'Draco, you don't mind me calling you that, do you?'

'Not at all, carry on.'

'Well, Draco. When your father died he died with a rather curious will. When it came to the ministry for reading it was therefore sent to me. In it he removed yourself and your uncle as heirs, principal or secondary, and in effect leaves his estate to the nation. As I'm sure you are aware this consists of considerable funds, which have been gratefully accepted and a very large house, which must either be demolished, sold or maintained. The last two aren't options due to the cost in the second case and an awkward clause in your father's will in the first leaving only demolition. Now, having had discussions with those who know about this sort of thing, I've found a fourth course of action.'

'Oh yes?'

'Yes. The house in question has come into the possession for the ministry absolute, as all such gifts do. This means that the ministry can dispose of it as it sees fit. It would seem that the best course of action would be to restore the house to you as a thank-you gift for your work against the great Threat.'

'Voldemort, you mean?'

'Yes, I suppose I do. Much of the contents of the family vaults had already been seized, and since that is actual money, I am afraid I cannot restore that without passing a motion through the wizengamot. I don't have the votes to do that, Draco.'

'I understand.'

'Thank you. There will of course be other rewards going out at some time in the future, Orders of Merlin and so on. Unfortunately, I don't think you'd be able to get one of those for this, not if you're getting the house back, but there it is.'

'Thank you, Minister.'

'Kingsley, please.'

'Of course. Do you have any idea of how much it costs to maintain or anything like that?'

'Running costs? No idea, I'm afraid but the word crippling might well apply, even if you do most of what can be done magically yourself. I can offer you a job when you leave Hogwarts if I'm still in this office, but it's going to cost a lot.'

'I see. Well, I don't think I've any choice but to accept, really.'

'Very well. I'll have the paperwork drawn up and we can arrange everything in the next few weeks. In the meantime, here's the key to the place. I hope you find everything in order.'

'Thank you, Kingsley.'

'My pleasure.'

Draco finished the liqueur, savouring the almond-like taste and put the glass back down on the table. Giving Kingsley one final smile he got up and left, Hermione following in his wake.

'Well, I wasn't expecting that.' Draco confessed to Hermione as the door shut behind them.

'Neither was I. Well, that's good, isn't it Draco?'

'I'm not sure. I haven't got all that many happy memories about the place. I don't really like it.'

'Then why did you accept it? Couldn't you have just told Shacklebolt no?'

'I could have done, but my unborn children would never forgive me. I didn't want them to have to buy the place back when I could have just accepted it. No, I did what I had to.'

'Fancy going for a look round the place?'

'Can do I suppose.'

'You don't sound all that enthusiastic.'

'I'm not. But I'll need to go there at some point; it may as well be now.'

'Do you want me there?'

'It'd be nice to have you there, if you don't mind.'

'Of course. Do you want to lead, or shall I?'

'I'll do it.' Draco stuck his arm out. Hermione grabbed hold and they were at the end of the drive.

'Get your wand out. There's a good chance that there might be someone here who shouldn't be.'

They abandoned their bags just inside the gate and crept forwards over the gravel drive, each step sounding unforgivably loud in the silence of the night. Forward they went, ever forwards and towards the fateful doors, waiting on their hinges. A gentle tug was enough to open the doors and they swung wide. Inside it was cold and damp, as if there had been no heat in the place for days.

'Where do we go now?' Hermione whispered.

'I'm not sure. First I say we lock the door, so we can tell if anyone has gotten out that way. Then we head down to the kitchens, then we'll check the rooms downstairs, before heading up to look at the bedrooms.'

'OK. Sounds good to me.'

Creeping on the balls of their feet, they snuck down to the kitchens, it was dark, but a quick flash of light revealed that no-one was there.

'Well, that's a start.'

They slowly walked up the passageway. Suddenly Hermione tapped Draco on the shoulder.

'Won't it be quieter if we take our shoes off?' she asked, almost inaudibly.

'Yeah. Good idea.'

They quickly divested themselves of their shoes and carried on in their socks. That was quieter. They checked the front door when they returned to the entrance hall- still locked- and carried on into the billiard room across the hall. No one was there either, nor in the smoking room just beyond. From there they headed up and back. No-one else was in the gallery, save for generations of portraits of Malfoys, magnificent in their silent frames. Innumerable eyes followed them as they walked down the passageway into the library. Nothing in there either. The whole of the upper level was empty. So far all was going well. Then they climbed the grand staircase that lead to the second floor. At the top of the stairs the corridor branched off in two directions, they went left first and found all the bedrooms that way empty. Next they tried the other direction- no-one was in the master bedroom, but as they stood outside Draco's former room, they heard a noise. Instantly Draco tightened his grip on his wand, the adrenaline surging through his body. He nodded at the door handle to Hermione, who opened it. Draco burst in, wand at the ready, waiting to fight the intruder within.

'Dobby? What are you doing here?'

'Cleaning, Sir.'

'I see. Why?'

'Sir?'

'Why are you cleaning, I thought all the elves had been dismissed on the death of my father.'

'We were Sir.'

'That does rather beg the question why are you here then?'

'Dobby is a free elf.'

'Yes, yes, but why are you here? Don't you have anywhere else to go?'

'No, Sir.'

'I see. So, are you after a job then, Dobby?'

'Sir?'

'I've got the house back, and I'll need some help keeping it in order. I can offer you bed and board and a small salary.' Draco said, conscious of Hermione standing behind him.

'Thank you, Sir. May I ask for something else, Sir.'

'Of course you can ask.'

'Dobby would like clothes, Sir.'

'Clothes? I think we can manage that, don't you, Hermione?'

'Of course we can. If you want to go out and find what you want to wear, Dobby, we'll pay for it.'

'Thank yous, Sir.'

'No problem, Dobby.'

The elf gave a small bow and disapparated, leaving behind nothing but his memory.

'Well, that's something. I don't think anyone else is here. I suppose we better go and pick up our bags.'

'Yeah.'

'Tell you what, you make yourself comfortable, I'll get the bags. We can spend the night here- it is getting late after all.'

Hermione looked at her watch, thought for a moment and nodded.

'Alright. See you later.'

Draco unlocked the door and stepped out into the cool late evening air. He hurried down the drive and, feeling glad he could perform magic, levitated the bags back to the house. When he returned he found Hermione downstairs, flat out on a sofa, waiting for his return.

'You alright?'

'Yeah. Fine. It's not that cold out.'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Oh, right. Yeah. I'm fine. It was self-defence after all, wasn't it? Anyway, I can always redecorate if I end up living here.'

'Yeah. I suppose you can.' Hermione said, suddenly sullen.

'I didn't mean it like that, Hermione. It's just I don't know if we're going to be together in the future.'

'What?'

'Sorry, that didn't come out right. You're wonderful, you really are, funny, clever, beautiful- when I'm near you I feel like a better person, just because of you. But that's it isn't it?'

'What are you saying?'

'Well, you're as close to perfect as any witch alive, Hermione. As close to perfect as you can be. And, look at me. I'm not. I've not got all that much in the way of prospects, I'm not fun to be with- you know how miserable I can be –and, well, I can't help feeling that you'll find someone better and.'

'Draco. Stop. I love you. You know that, right. You're reliable, dependable and whilst you are no Adonis, you're not exactly a troll, now shut up before you stick your foot in it anymore and come over here.'

Draco obediently walked over and sat down next to Hermione, who swivelled herself round to lie in his lap. Draco put his arm down and rested it gently across her.

'Sorry about all that. I think it's being here, you know, it's bringing back bad things- I'm not all that good at accepting good things can happen to me.'

'And I'm a good thing, am I?'

'The best.'

The next few weeks were tricky- Draco spent much of his time sifting through memories as he and Hermione tidied the house- every time he came across something he found hard, Hermione dealt with it, and helped him feel better again. He still wasn't sure why she put up with him, but supposed it was something to do with wanting something to take her mind off of her parents. Every week they checked up on the Granger's house in London, but every week they came back having seen the house cold and locked up. On these evenings Hermione would spend most of the time curled up next to Draco, weeping.

Three weeks before they were due to go back to Hogwarts however, the pattern changed. They had gotten up in the morning as usual and had breakfast together downstairs. It was always the same on Saturdays- three slices of toast, two with marmalade and one with a poached egg, all chased down by a mug of hot coffee. Then, they got dressed, and met five minutes later at the front door. From their they walked slowly down the drive in silence and at the end they apparated to a quiet spot near the Granger's home. From there it was a short walk to the house. Draco noticed something was odd the moment he arrived- so did Hermione. The blue car on the drive heralded the return of someone- who they didn't know. Draco followed Hermione to the door, noticing the worry and anxiety in her every step. She raised her hand to the bell and pushed the button. It rang and someone came to the door.

'What do you. Hermione?'

'Yes Daddy.'

'Oh, come here.' He said, flinging his arms wide, ready to embrace his daughter.

'We've been missing you ever since we remembered you. What happened?'

'I'm sorry.'

'It's fine sweety-beeps, but what for?'

'I made you forget. I knew they'd try to get at me through you, so I made you forget and I sent you away to keep you safe.'

'And you didn't think to ask us first?'

'No.'

'Well, I'm sure it was for the best. Who's your friend?'

'Daddy, this is Draco.'

'Nice to meet you Draco.'

'He's my boyfriend.'

'Ahh, well , it had to happen sometime, I suppose.' He said. 'Well, come on in. Enid!'

'Oliver?'

'Come here, there's someone to see you!'

'Who?'

'Come out here.'

'Alright then.'

Hermione's mum rounded the corner, coming out of some room downstairs and looking up the flight of steps that were a couple of yards in front of the door.

'Hermione! How are you? Come here.'

Hermione trotted down to the steps to receive a floury hug.

'And whose the handsome man you've bought home?'

'Mum, this is Draco, my boyfriend.'

'Good, it's about time you found someone. I was just about to start lunch, are you staying?'

'We'd love to.' And with that, Draco found himself spending the next three hours in the kitchen, peeling spuds and chopping vegetables whilst Hermione and her Mum scurried about the place doing everything else. Soon the joint was done and Mr Granger was summoned to do the carving. This was soon done and they carried their plates into the dining room next door. Mr Granger opened a bottle of wine to go with the pork and sat down. The bottle was passed around and soon all four glasses were full.

'So, Draco, where do you live?'

'I've got a place in the country.'

'A place in the country, eh? Sounds dead posh.'

'It's not all that. It's just the family home.'

'Living with your parents?'

'No, they are no longer with us.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Not your fault, sorry to bring the mood down.'

'No problem. You wouldn't mind passing the pepper, would you?'

'Here you go.'

'Thanks.'

All in all, Draco felt that he was getting on well with Hermione's parents, and whilst he was a little disappointed that Hermione wouldn't be going home with him, he was glad that she had found her parents again – it had really brought him low to see Hermione so upset week in week out. Now she was happy, and it wasn't long now until they'd be back at school. Draco headed back to the manor alone. Without the cheer and smiles of Hermione, the place now seemed barren, bereft of the warmth that it had had earlier. Perhaps Dobby had forgotten to stoke the fire again. Never mind. Draco headed to his fathers, no. His study and sat down. From the rack in front of him he took out a sheet of watermarked paper and held it up to the light. A big M overlapped a picture of the house. Well, that was alright, nothing that marked it out as not being his own mark. Dipping the desk pen in the ink well he started to write in his father's distinctive brown ink.

Dear Uncle N,

It was good seeing you for dinner last Sunday. Everything's alright here, but I thought you might want to know that Hermione's parents have finally returned- she's spending a few weeks with them before we go back to school.

Stay in touch,

Draco.

Draco sealed the letter into an envelope, scrawled Noctifer's name on the front of it and gave it to the owl he had bought a few months before which flew off into the setting sun. Draco then returned to the study to write the second, more difficult letter of the day.

Dear Hermione,

I know we were planning on visiting Diagon Alley at some point this week to get what we needed to pick up for school. I thought we might do it on Friday- that way perhaps you and your parents could spend the weekend here, if you like. If there's anything I can do, or if you just want to meet up- send instructions by return of owl and I'll be there. If not, see you Friday, 10.00 am, Leaky Cauldron.

Lots of Love

Draco

XXX