AN: This one is for cheshyregrin - thank you so much for being so supportive, and thanks for the words. It has been a little difficult writing this because Hermione is such a complex character, but I did my best and I hope you like it. By the outcome of this chapter, I believe this would not be a two-shot. Amm... I guess that Draco and Hermione have something else to tell me. I guess I'll be needing 10 more words... :)

Thanks to everybody who followed and favorited this story - you guys are awesome!

Words:

Anticipation

Shock

Frustration

Heartache

Happiness

Audacity

Enigma

Intentional

Simplicity

Longing

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters- I do wish I had Lord Malfoy for myself, though.

Hermione Weasley lowered her head into her hands and shook it gently, feeling a migraine coming up.

Her beautiful daughter Rose was on one side of the kitchen, her fiery hair matched only by the fire in her eyes. They were dangerously tiny, slits that held back all the fury and irritation she was feeling. Hermione knew her daughter, and knew that the worst was yet to come.

On the other side, her husband of twenty-and-then-some years was pulling at his hair, a trait he adopted after the War. It made a certain impact on the state of his hair – throughout the years, the amount of it dwindled and the ginger in it started to turn to grey.

»I will not, under any circumstance, allow you to continue seeing that... that...that ferret's son!" Ronald Weasley shouted at his daughter, his face contorted with ire and betrayal.

"You cannot tell me what to do father! I will be 17 in a couple of months, and there is nothing you can do about it!" Rose yelled back, her blue eyes sparkling with frustration, her face contorting in a mask of rage.

Hermione decided it was enough.

As her daughter opened her mouth to yell another obscenity, she stood up from the table, and with a wave of her wine-wood wand everything came to a complete halt. Rose and Ron stood frozen in a moment of time, their eyes the only things moving. Two pairs of baby-blues simultaneously sought Hermione, confused and irate at the same time.

"Enough," she said slowly. "I have had enough of this. It is getting late, and I cannot think straight from all the yelling and cursing you did today. I do not believe any of us can. Now, I am going to bed. You will stay the way you are until you calm down, and when you both do, you will be released of the spell. Good night."

Hermione turned without giving them a second glance, and climbed the steep stairs up to the second floor. Turning left at the top, she walked to her favourite place in the world – her library. As she pushed open the heavy, mahogany doors, she felt a sense of ease envelop her. Hermione smiled softly, and went to sit in a comfortable ottoman by the window. The faint dusk of twilight glowed in all its magnificence, but Hermione could not find solace in it this time.

Dear God, she thought to herself. How will I survive this? How can I survive seeing him again, which is bound to happen eventually, and not fall into his arms and...

She dared not finish that thought. All the memories she had of him were long locked up in some dark corner of her brilliant mind, and she occasionally sought them when she needed comfort. It was a bittersweet experience, for every time she reached for the memory of that particular night, her heart would start to beat harder and faster, and it would be as if she finally existed again for more than a mere shadow of herself. The memory made her more alive than she ever was, and simultaneously it tore at her defences unforgiving and delicious in its agony.

Hermione saw the love in her daughter's eyes. She saw the fondness and passion that she recognized as her own, although she was powerless in face of the events after the War, and because of that, she had kissed goodbye her chance of happiness. It was not that she wasn't happy in a way; of course she was. She had two beautiful children, husband that loved her and great friends, but on top of all that, a piece of Hermione's heart always ached.

It ached for him.

Before she could succumb to the memory mild tapping of claws on the window startled her. Hermione turned to see a magnificent white eagle owl with a creamy envelope in its mouth.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She stared at the owl for quite some time, her heart beating like marching drums. She knew whose it was - the elegance the bird exuded had his signature all over it. The owl tapped on the window impatiently, and Hermione moved. With shaking hands, she opened the window and let the owl into her room - and if she was honest with herself, in a way she let him back into her life.

The bird landed on a table, avoiding the manuscripts she was currently translating, careful not to make a mess. Hermione smiled to herself as she gently petted the proud bird, and untied the envelope from its wrist. The moment she did, the owl looked at her smartly, as if it knew what a torment all this was for her. It hooted twice, and then spread its large wings and flew away from the window, not looking back.

Slowly she turned the envelope in her hands; the paper was smooth and expensive-looking. On the backside in a beautiful writing, it said Hermione Weasley, nee Granger. She slowly ripped the paper, unknowingly holding her breath as she read the words written in black.

Dear Miss Granger,

My son has recently informed me that he is, apparently, in love with your daughter. I assumed the lovely lady in question reciprocates his feelings - were that not the case, and being that she is her Mother's daughter, I believe my son would be lacking a limb, or at least, a finger.

Given that Scorpius is, in fact, in one piece, I have concluded that the love he feels is matched by the passion I know that your daughter is capable of. Therefore, my family and I in particular would be honoured to have you and Mr. Weasley, and your lovely children join us for dinner on Friday at 6 o'clock.

In anticipation of receiving a positive response and seeing You,

Draco Malfoy

A gentle sob wrecked her small frame, and she put a hand over her lips in order to prevent it from coming out. She turned to the door and fired a couple of spells at it, making sure no one would bother her as she fell apart.

Hermione fell down to the floor, clutching the letter to her heart, and as tears of wanton and regret spilled from her golden eyes, she inhaled the scent of lilacs coming from the paper. She allowed herself a moment of weakness as she remembered his lips and caresses all over her body on that night so many years ago. Tears fell on the black ink, blurring her vision and the words that told her so much about a man that held a fragment of her forever, and wished to herself that things in the past had played out differently.

After calming herself, Hermione cast a spell to mask her red-rimmed eyes and, with a deep breath, found herself knocking on Rose's door.

A faint "come in" could be heard, and Hermione stepped inside.

"Hey," she spoke softly. "How are you?"

Rose shook her head.

"Angry. Disappointed. Tired. Hopeful. I don't know."

Hermione nodded and sat on the bed. Dark purple walls surrounding her were overflowing with photos, magical and Muggle. Her daughter was passionate about people she loved and things that made her smile, and her life was filled with simplicity only a happy child could have. Hermione felt proud of herself in that moment. She was proud of Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and so many others that fought the battles that allowed her children to live a careless and joyful life. Now, facing what was the biggest battle in her life so far, Rosie was lost, and Hermione knew she had to give her guidance and support.

"Look, Rosie, I…"

Words were stuck in her throat as she considered how to tell her daughter to fight for the one she loves, and never to let him go. How can I say anything to her, when I pushed away the one I loved? How can I advise her to follow her heart, when I was unwilling and unable to do so?

"I… understand what is going through your head. I want to ask you one thing – do you love Scorpius?"

The way her daughter reacted to those words was delightful. Her face scrunched up in a fearless expression, her wide, blue eyes mirthful by mention of his name. It was as if her daughter was glowing from the inside as she looked at her mother and uttered the words in all seriousness.

"I am going to marry him one day Mom. I love him more than life itself, and I never want to be without him."

Hermione felt tears threatening to overcome her barriers again as she saw her child consumed with affection for a boy. She grew up so fast, and her little Rosie was now a woman, a beautiful, magnificent woman that was capable of endless love. Hermione lowered her head, and left a kiss on her daughter's forehead, closing her eyes and whispering.

"Then, my love, I will be there for you, every moment, because a boy that my daughter is so passionate about must be worth the world."

She felt Rose's sobs as her daughter held her close and cried like she did when she was just a baby, only these were not tears of pain – these were tears of relief.

"But Hermione, I… I can not allow it. I will not allow my Rosie to go about with a… a… Malfoy!"

He spat the last word as if it were a curse. Hermione threw an exasperated look towards the man she spent more than half of her life with, and decided that it was time she pulled out the big guns.

They were fighting again, probably the millionth time since she told him about the letter (that she burned 'accidentally' after her little breakdown in the library). He could not understand why she wanted to become reacquainted with Malfoy, and how could she possibly think that his offspring was good enough for Rose?

"Ronald Weasley, listen to me, and listen to me good. Your daughter is happy. No, shut up!" She yelled when Ron opened his mouth to say something, and closed them quickly when he realized his wife was not joking.

"Just look at her. Look at her Ron, and tell me that you do not see the love written on her face. Tell me you do not see the change. Tell me-" Hermione took a deep breath "-that you do not see the same look on her face that I have when I'm looking at you."

Ron smiled a little, but it turned into a frown.

"But… the audacity of the boy… who does he think he is, messing with my daughter?"

He is Scorpius Malfoy, son of Lord Draco Malfoy, and he has the world at his feet. Moreover, he is in love with our daughter, and if he is his father's son, he would make her his queen.

"Ron, please," Hermione begged, her voice exhausted. "Get over it already. We have all changed so much over the years, and even Harry says that Malfoy is a different man now. For Merlin's sake, I testified on his trial!"

The memory of the cold room and faces of the Wizengamot wizards was chilling, and Ron must have felt her unease because he hugged her close.

"I just… Hermione, I don't know. It's hard for me, she's growing up, and I can't bear the thought of losing her." His last words were but a whisper, and Hermione wound her fingers through his hair in a gesture of comfort and intimacy.

"Just… understand her. Give the boy a chance, and then we will see. For me, please?"

Her husband's eyes were filled with love as he promised her that he would try, and as they made their way to their bedroom, Hermione felt like she was cheating on someone – she just did not know whom.

"We've been over this so many times Ronald - you need to behave. I know how you feel about Malfoy, but I believe it's time to put all the childish rivalry aside and concentrate on the happiness of your daughter."

Ron Weasley grunted something in response, looking as if he was in physical pain in his wizard robes. They were currently sitting in the kitchen, waiting for their children to emerge from their rooms. The time on the clock was 5:37, and Hermione was determined not to be late. It took hours and hours of convincing, but Ron finally caved into going to the dinner with them. That did not mean he was happy about it, not at all. He did it for one reason only - he loved his daughter and his wife more than anything else in the world.

Hermione was feeling jittery, as she fiddled with her golden bracelet. Wearing a formal, Muggle dress the colour of glowing crimson, she felt beautiful and insecure at the same time. She shook her head, willing herself to push back all the distractions and determined not to give into the temptations that her mind conjured.

Focus Hermione. Do not think about him, do not think about it. If you want to keep your wits about you, do not think about him.

Fluid steps alerted her to the presence of her two reasons for living - Rose and Hugo. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of her son, looking ruggedly handsome in his robes. His molten gold eyes held mischief and calm, undeniable intelligence behind them, the same one she saw every time she looked in a mirror. Her daughter, on the other hand, was anything but calm.

Rose's dress was silver and emerald, beautifully contrasted by her flaming hair that was held up by a silver clasp. It was the one that Hermione gave her for her eleventh birthday, and she chuckled at her daughters obvious attempts to appeal to the family of Slytherins. Hermione could see that Rose was nervous in the way she bit her lip, and the small twitch of her fingers. She took a step closer and embraced her daughter.

"You look beautiful darling," she whispered, as her daughter held her close. "He already loves you, and that's all that matters."

The shock was evident in her daughter's face as she pulled away, but before Rose could say anything, Ron mumbled that it was time to go. Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, removing the protection spells she put on their house, in order to allow them to Apparate. She could feel the magic coursing through her veins as she thought of The Three D's.

The tugging in her abdomen made her sick, as it did so many times before. She landed on her feet, and as she looked up at the Malfoy Manor, she could not help the chills that ran down her spine. Memories from the War and the torture she endured there resurfaced, and her throat tightened. The letters hidden behind a powerful glamour charm burned her, and as she glanced down at her arm, Hermione could almost see the outlines of that damned word - Mudblood.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs Weasley. I'm so glad you've decided to come."

A rich voice brought Hermione out of her daze, and she looked at the young man that stole her daughter's heart.

Oh Merlin, he looks just like him.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy stood in front of her, casting sideway glances to her husband while looking charming in a formal tuxedo. His blonde hair was that particular Malfoy shade that everybody could recognize from a far, and his eyes were almost the same shade of iron that she remembered from so long ago. His face was aristocratic, his features noble, but his eyes held a roguishness appeal that his Father did not, and could not have in the lights of everything that transpired during the Second Wizarding War. Hermione knew in that instant why Rose chose to give him his heart, and she could never condemn her for it - had she not done the same?

The boy looked a bit lost, which Hermione would not be able to see had she not known his father's facial expressions like the back of her hand. Therefore, she stepped forward for her daughter's sake, and her own, and embraced the young man.

"It is very good to meet you Scorpius. Please, call me Hermione - Mrs. Weasley is my mother-in-law."

She felt him stiffen for an instant, but then he relaxed, and it was as if the weight he wore on his shoulders slackened a little. The hug was brief, but as Hermione pulled back, she could see her daughter looking at her as if she was her heroine. It made her nostalgic and a tad sad for a moment, for it has been years since her children looked at her like she could do no wrong in this world.

Ron chose that moment to clear his throat, and he honestly looked constipated as he pushed his hand forward for Scorpius to shake. Young man accepted it gladly, relief prominent on his face.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Weasley, and thank you so much for coming."

Ron grunted a response, and Hermione almost rolled her eyes. Hugo then stepped forward and did that manly-hug thing that boys did with Scorpius. Both Ron and Hermione were surprized to see their younger son, who was extremely dainty when it came to choosing his friends and acquaintances, so at ease with the tall Slytherin. Hugo was a great judge of character and from the smiles that the boys shared and a couple of teasing words, Hermione felt even more at ease with her daughter's choice.

"My parents are waiting for you inside - my Father had a last minute disaster with the dessert and I believe he is trying to fix it."

Scorpius smiled at Hermione and with a move of his hand ushered them to go inside. As the children stood in front of them, Hermione could see how Scorpius looked at Rose from the corner of his eye, and his fingers twitched like he needed to touch her. Rose on the other hand gravitated towards Scorpius, seemingly unable to resist the pull she felt. The longing in her daughter's eyes was hard to miss, so Hermione took her husband's hand in hers and pulled him towards the entrance of the Malfoy Manor.

Hugo must have noticed what was going on, because he caught up with them and engaged his father in a brief conversation over the latest Quidditch news he had read before they came here. Hermione chose that moment to glance behind her, and what she saw made her heart swell and break a little at the same time.

Scorpius held Rose in his embrace, whispering soft words in her ear with his arms circling her waist. Rose wore an enchanting smile, and as they stood there, amidst the stolen juncture in space and time, Hermione knew that her daughter is safe; safe with a man that would make sure she had the world and then some.

The person waiting for them as they came in was the Mistress of Malfoy Manor - Astoria Malfoy.

She was a beautiful woman, with delicate features and nervous eyes. She shook Ron's and Hermione's hand, greeted Hugo warmly, and asked for the whereabouts of her son and Rose, all the while insisting they called her Astoria. Her voice was a high soprano, like chiming of the bells on Christmas, and Hermione had to push down all her insecurities and the green monster of envy, and not think about the fact this was the woman that shared his bed every night. She was, after all, here with her husband, who looked like he was in his own, personal hell.

Hermione's heart gave a tug at that moment, and she took her husband's hand and smiled at Astoria.

"The children are in the garden - I believe they haven't seen each other for a long time, so we decided to give them a moment. And please, call me Hermione."

Astoria smiled knowingly, and thought to herself that she quite liked this witch in ruby coloured dress in front of her.

"Yes, well, my husband insisted on making the dessert himself - I believe his love for cooking came from his enthusiasm with Potions. Of course, there was a slight complication, but I believe he will join us in a couple of minutes."

Rose and Scorpius chose that moment to enter, with her blushing profusely as he held her hand on his elbow. They came to a halt in front of Astoria, and Rose paled a little.

"Mother, this is my Rose."

Hermione could have swooned over the charms of one Scorpius Malfoy at that moment, and it seemed that his mother was not immune to it either.

"Hello Mrs. Malfoy, thank you for inviting us into your lovely home." Rose's voice could barely be heard, as the spitfire that was her daughter tried her best not to show how nervous she was, meeting her boyfriend's mother.

"Hello Rose, dear! Oh Merlin, you look so glamorous- that shade suits you perfectly! Please, do call me Astoria - Mrs. Malfoy is my mother-in-law."

Scorpius' head turned as his Mother embraced confused Rose, and he looked at the woman that gave birth to the love of his life. Mrs. Hermione had told him exactly the same thing couple of minutes before. Scorpius could feel when the wheels in his head started to turn. He still remembered the strange way his Father reacted when he told him about Rose, and something was bothering him in the back of his mind.

He saw his Father approaching them from the kitchens, and he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hermione. His eyes widened at the odd display in front of him.

"I am so sorry for the delay, I could not get the chocolate topping right. Binky barely salvaged me from a cocoa explosion I made in the kitchen."

Hermione thought she was going to die.

Oh God oh God oh God.

It was as if someone grabbed her and whisked her in the air, forcing the breath out of her lungs violently, and then released her to fall thunderously on the ground. Hermione turned stiffly towards the sound of the angel's voice and looked at Draco Malfoy, and their eyes found each other.

It was heaven and hell and coming home and heartache and rumble of pain and bliss. His eyes roamed over her, and she found herself unable to produce a sound as her blood pumped furiously and all the sounds perished.

He was there.

He was really there, in front of her, not just a fragment of her imagination from the long lost memory she once had, and he was looking at her with those eyes of luminous silver that looked at her with love on the night she gave herself to him.

No.

She could not think about it.

No.

She would not think about it.

Oh God.

He said something to her, and she instinctively pushed her hand forward expecting a handshake. What she got was the feel of his heavenly lips on the back of her hand, and she froze and she burned and melted as she forgot how to breathe. It could have lasted a second or an eon, she did not know, but then his eyes left her at once as he spoke to her husband and shook his hand. She forced herself to breathe and apparently switched the autopilot on, for she was unable to concentrate anymore. Hermione's head hurt as he smiled at Rose, complimenting her on something or other, for she thought she could cry. She tried to compose herself enough to function when he laughed at something Hugo said to him and Scorpius.

Oh God oh please, please, I can't breathe.

Hermione was not a religious person, but right then and there she was prepared to make a deal with any deity there might be just to transport her somewhere else, anywhere else in this world. She smiled automatically as Scorpius told her something; she nodded at her husband in reassurance and comfort when he sought her because he was uncomfortable. She avoided looking at him as Astoria announced that the dinner was ready and took Ron's hand.

Were Hermione on top of her game, she would have noticed how Scorpius kept his eyes upon her and his Father the whole time, and she would have caught the way he made his intentional falter look like an accident. The boy was however quickly distracted by Rose's hand and her playful, promising look, and he hurried after her, hoping for another kiss before the dinner. Everybody made their way to the dining room, and Hermione was left with Draco alone.

She finally gathered the courage to look at him again, and it made her want to weep.

He was hauntingly beautiful, that man who would always stay an enigma to her, mysterious and peculiar and oh so familiar.

Draco Malfoy smiled softly at the woman that he belonged to since that stolen moment another eternity ago, and her proximity and her warmness awoke him.

He took a step closer, his hand seeking hers, and she submitted willingly, as she did before. Hermione knew that she would give him anything she asked of her, but all Draco did was capture her eyes with his own. His smell enveloped her, and she realized in that moment how much she missed him. It had been centuries since she was this close to him, and they had lived through so much since, and he may not be the same person anymore, but Hermione did not care, for she felt things she had not felt in years.

She shuddered with yearning as his breath danced on her throat, and the words he sighed into her skin made her head spin.

"I missed you."

AN: Soooo... any thoughts? :)