Author's Note: A massive thanks as always to pagan for suffering through my awkward sentence structures and apparent inability to be consistent with my grammar tense.

Er...yeah...

Endings

"We weren't… well, I wasn't sure whether to invite Malfoy or not," Ginny said, amending her statement at a look from Harry.

Hermione was over at the Potters for another midweek dinner. With the upheaval in her life settling down, she had made time once more for little things like dinners with her friends. It was nice to get back into the routine now that the tabloids had stopped camping outside her house and following her everywhere. Of course, that didn't mean they stayed away from her and Draco if they were ever out in public together.

"Why would you invite Draco?"

"Well, would you ever consider inviting Harry over for dinner without me?" Ginny asked, a cheeky smile wreathing her face.

"No, but that's because you are a couple, that would be… oh! Oh, ha ha! Very funny, Ginevra, but Draco and I aren't a couple."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at that, patently disbelieving. Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "Okay, so we're getting on and I never thought I would hear the day when I said that. But we are just friends. Nothing more."

"Nothing more? Hmmm… I believe you, Hermione, but thousands wouldn't."

"Harry!" Hermione said, appealing to her best friend to step in.

"Hey, don't get me involved in this. If you are claiming that there is nothing between you and Draco, then that's on your shoulders," Harry said, pushing his glasses back up his nose, a teasing glint in his eye.

"What? You don't believe me either?"

"Do I think you and Draco are dating? No. But don't ask me if I think you and Draco could be dating, because I'm not sure you'd like the answer."

"You are both impossible," Hermione said with a pout.

Harry leaned forward, patting her hand across the table, the amused smile gone from his face. "You know that wouldn't be a bad thing, right? I mean, the pair of you have weathered this whole mess remarkably well and that you've managed to become friends out of it is pretty remarkable, especially when you factor in where you have come from."

Hermione was touched by Harry's words. She and Draco had made a real effort to get past the bad history between them and were now at a stage where meeting for lunch or going together to look at baby things was no longer awkward. She was enjoying the new found understanding, and Draco was a lot more interesting that she could have imagined. But despite thinking about it since his birthday, Hermione had no idea if she wanted to take their friendship any further. She had lain awake more than one night thinking the options over.

And then there was Draco himself. He had shown no inclination that he wanted to mean any more to Hermione than a friend and the father of their baby. At times, she wished things were a little less complicated and that she knew her own mind in this matter.

"I don't know, Harry. I'm not sure either of us would be ready to jump into anything like that."

"Maybe because the pair of you are over-analysing everything," Ginny jumped in, jolting the table with her baby bump as she rose. "I swear, I get bigger every pregnancy."

Hermione smiled at the size of Ginny who was now nearing her due date; she looked so pregnant it was adorable. Harry jumped up, taking the dishes out of Ginny's hands and said, "Sit down, love. You don't need to pick up after us. This is your turn to relax."

"Relax! Fat chance I have of that with our two boys."

Harry chuckled. "They do keep us on our toes, but as they are with Molly tonight, you can relax and have a lie-in tomorrow morning."

Ginny sighed blissfully. "You just wait, Hermione. If I were you, I would be taking every opportunity you have to stay in bed because, once my niece or nephew comes, you can kiss your bed goodbye."

Hermione rubbed her own burgeoning bump, thinking how quickly this whole pregnancy was going.

"Are you going to find out the sex next week?" Harry asked.

"Draco and I discussed this after the last scan and we both decided that we wanted to know."

Harry shot his wife a glare. "See, Hermione and Malfoy are being normal about this. They'd know whether to keep the male baby clothes or not."

"Oh hush!" Ginny replied good-naturedly.

Harry was desperate to know what his next child was going to be but it was a Weasley tradition to keep it a surprise. Hermione knew that he was hoping for a girl and had stumbled across a bag of pretty little dresses in his office the other day. He had claimed it was for a co-worker who was having a baby, but she also happened to know that co-worker and that they asked for the sex of the baby at the 20-week scan and were having a boy.

"Narcissa isn't even waiting to find out the gender. She's invited me on Sunday to go and view the nursery at the Manor and check what I would like to keep."

"Are you moving in?" Ginny asked with a raise of her eyebrows.

Hermione gave her red-headed friend a pointed look. "Stop it! She wants to redecorate for the times that the baby will be staying there and she thought I might like to give some input."

Harry laughed. "I'm still struggling with just how welcoming Narcissa and Lucius are being."

"They are desperate for a grandchild. They'd have welcomed me with open arms even if I had been a squib."

Ginny tutted disapprovingly. "Or maybe they're aren't completely blind and realise that you are so much better than what they expected."

Hermione laughed but patted her friend's hand for the compliment. "I guess anything is possible now that the Malfoys are actually welcoming of a half-blood."

"If anything gives me hope for our world, then it's that," Harry said, seriously. "Who would have thought fifteen years ago that any of this would be possible? But if Lucius can learn that blood doesn't matter, then it gives me hope."

There was a silence around the table as they all took it in. Hermione thought back to their school days and just how awful the Malfoy family had been. If anyone had gone back and told her fifteen-year-old self that she would one day have a baby with Draco Malfoy, of all people, she would have laughed and then hexed them. She smiled softly as she remembered how she had dreamed of marrying Ron, being part of the Weasley family, of having a more permanent place in the magical world.

Well, she had forged her own place, which was something she would always be proud of; she didn't need the validation of being subsumed into a wizarding family to truly belong. On top of that, she was expecting to bring up a child in the magical world. To give them an experience of being born into magic and all that entailed, and she was excited about the prospect of being a mother and of having the support of a father. If everything had gone to plan, then she would have done it alone and she would have done it well. But that wasn't how things had panned out and once she had accustomed herself to the new reality, she had quickly seen the advantages.

A sigh across the table from Ginny interrupted her thoughts. "Your baby is going to have such beautiful things. Just imagine how amazing that nursery in Malfoy Manor is."

"As long as there are no carvings on the cot of Muggles being subjugated, I'll be happy," Hermione said jokingly.

The laughter that followed broke up the pensive mood.

The difference between the formal rooms and the family quarters in Malfoy Manor was always a source of amazement for Hermione. It didn't matter that she had been here several times in the past few months, and apart from Draco's birthday party, had spent them all in the more relaxed surroundings of the private wing. The elegance remained. She didn't think a house under the keeping of Narcissa could be anything other than elegant, but little touches of everyday life made it homelier – as homey as a large country estate could be.

She smiled as they walked down the corridor which lead to the nursery and Narcissa made a sound of annoyance at the broomstick and Quidditch robes that had been casually propped up against a door.

"One day, I'm going to actually burn Draco's Quidditch things," Narcissa said as she flicked her wand and cleared them away into a cupboard opposite. "No matter how many times I tell him not to leave his things lying around, he never fails to have me tripping over that bloody broomstick."

"Harry would agree with you. Ginny's inability to put her Quidditch gear away drove him crazy for years."

Narcissa laughed lightly. "I never thought a day would come when I had something so mundane in common with Harry Potter."

Hermione wasn't given the opportunity to reply as Narcissa flung open a double door, revealing a large, bright nursery. It was larger than was possibly needed for one baby, being about the size of her first one-bedroom flat, but there was no denying that it was beautiful. Windows ran down one side of the room, looking out over the eastern part of the gardens.

"It was put in the East wing to make the most of the morning sunshine," Narcissa said. "The windows are all magically reinforced so that no accidents can happen."

"It's huge," Hermione said.

"Oh, I know. Ridiculous really. Draco used to rattle around in here when he was young. But it was built in a different time, when having large families was de rigueur."

Hermione bit back the extremely personal question of why Narcissa hadn't had more children when she obviously had a fondness for them. It had taken a while for Narcissa to truly warm up to her, longer than Lucius, so she didn't want to rock the boat unnecessarily.

Instead, Hermione's eyes wandered around the room. This was where Draco had grown up, crawled about in a nappy, and played. She spotted the cot on the far side of the room and her mouth dropped open in admiration. She had been kidding earlier that week at the Potters when she'd mentioned a carved cot, but she wasn't really surprised. It was solid oak and looked antique and had magical creatures, amongst them unicorns, dragons, manticores, and sphinxes, twining up the legs and railings. She stroked her hand along it, appreciating the craftsmanship. It was beautiful and she could picture her little baby sleeping in it. It put the cot she had picked out from John Lewis firmly in the shade.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Narcissa said. "I was grateful the Malfoys already had a family cot because my mother offered me the Black one. I believe you lived inside Grimmauld Place for a while, so it won't take much imagination for you to know why I really didn't want to accept the offer."

A cot with carvings of subjected Muggles came instantly to mind and Hermione stifled her laughter, which won her a smile from Narcissa. "The Malfoys, for all their ideas on blood purity, really do appreciate beauty."

"Something you share, if your husband is right."

It was Narcissa's turn to laugh. "Oh yes, I like things to be beautiful. It was the first thing that attracted me to Lucius and I instantly imagined how handsome our children would be."

Hermione ignored Narcissa's use of the plural, something holding her back once more from asking why Narcissa had only one child. "Well, Draco is certainly is a sight for sore eyes."

Narcissa's smile deepened, an approving look on her face as she looked Hermione over. "I wasn't sure if you had noticed."

Hermione could feel the heat pooling in her cheeks but decided that she would brazen it out rather than act like some love-struck teenager. "I think you would have to be blind not to."

"Yes, well, the world can be rather blind at times."

"That it can. Draco was guilty of that himself when we were young," Hermione said pointedly.

The hint of shame in Narcissa's eyes was not missed by Hermione but she was not embarrassed by pointing it out. Yes, the Malfoys might not have had an easy time of it after the war, but she was not going to feel too sorry for them as it was their actions and views that had put them there. It didn't mean that she couldn't appreciate that they had obviously had a turnaround in their thoughts.

"Listen, about that—" Narcissa began to say before Hermione raised a hand.

"I didn't say it to get an apology, Narcissa. Out of the whole family, you have the least to apologise for and I have put my differences with both Draco and Lucius behind me. I'm not petty and I certainly want us to have a good relationship for the sake of this child."

Narcissa gave her a hesitant smile. "I think if anything has proven to Lucius and I how wrong we were, it has been the grace in which you have handled this whole situation."

"I'm not sure I was so gracious at the beginning," Hermione said ruefully.

That earned her another laugh from the Malfoy matriarch. "I'm not going to hold that against you. The first trimester is always so trying."

Hermione thought back to the mood swings, how tired she always felt, the hideous bouts of sickness, and shuddered. "I won't disagree with you there."

"But Lucius and I are grateful that you are forgiving enough to allow us to be a part of our grandchild's life. Others might not be so generous in your situation, considering the past."

"It's important to me that this child has family, both magical and Muggle."

Hermione did her best to ignore the moisture that welled up in her eyes. She wasn't going to give in to her rampaging hormones and cry. She could see that Narcissa was a little teary, too.

"I had hoped this nursery would become alive once more," Narcissa mused. "When Draco first married Astoria, I thought they would want a big family. The Greengrasses always have had a lot of children, but as the years passed, I gave up and wished just for one."

Hermione reached out and gripped Narcissa's hand. "And now you have one."

The click of his office door had Draco raising his head from the paperwork he was attempting to finish before his presence was demanded at lunch.

"Are they still up there?" he asked as his father walked into the room.

As Lucius moved into the light from one of the windows, Draco noticed that he was leaning rather heavily on his cane and a frown flittered across his brow. He knew better than to mention anything. His father still became cagey when questioned about his health and wouldn't admit it if he had any pain. If he did, Narcissa would have him straight upstairs and on bed rest, which Draco knew he hated.

"Last time I popped my head in, your mother was pulling out your old baby robes."

Draco groaned.

"You should be worried," Lucius continued. "Hermione was cooing over how cute they were."

Draco smiled at the thought. The strangest thing to come out of this whole situation was the relationship Hermione had managed to build with his parents. Somehow, in the past few weeks, since his birthday, she had become an integral part of the family. A weekend didn't pass where Narcissa did not invite her for Sunday lunch, although Draco knew Hermione declined more often than not because she had her own commitments with her parents and the Weasleys. It seemed a testament to Hermione's character that she managed to juggle three completely different families without upsetting anyone.

Then, two weeks ago, Hermione had announced that it was time Draco met her parents and he had gone over for the inevitable Sunday roast. It had possibly been the most awkward event of his life. Hermione's parents did not stint on the disapproval and whilst it was obvious they loved their daughter, they certainly did not agree with her choice in getting pregnant the way she had.

They had also given him a frosty reception which made it clear that Hermione had shared most of her school life with her parents. Then again, he had a vague recollection of seeing them briefly in Diagon Alley, when his father and Arthur Weasley had engaged in fisticuffs. Had that been just before their third year? No, it must have been their second as Sirius Black hadn't escaped from Azkaban then. Anyway, that memory had not helped endear him any more to the Grangers.

Afterwards, Hermione had claimed that it had been a success, but if she counted pointed remarks and very few smiles a success, then Merlin only knew just how bad she had expected it go.

"I'm proud of you, son."

The words had Draco lifting his head from the parchment where he had been unconsciously doodling little stick figures. With a tut and a wave of his wand, he vanished them; it also gave him time to clear away the emotion clogging his throat.

"Thanks, Dad, but why?"

"For how you've handled yourself during this. You could've pushed for a fake relationship too, but you didn't and you were right not to. What you and Hermione have now is a lot better than anything I concocted would have been."

Drawing his eyebrows together, Draco looked over the desk to where his father was sitting. "That's good to know, but why are you saying this to me now?"

A flicker of pain flashed across Lucius' face. If Draco had not been studying him, then he probably would have missed it, and it struck foreboding into his heart.

"Is everything okay?"

"I don't want to burden you with this—" his father started to say.

"We've been through this," Draco interrupted. "You hid your illness from Mum and I for far too long and you promised that there would be no more secrets, no more trying to handle this yourself."

Draco's heart rate sped up, anxiety pooling deep in his stomach, as the silence stretched on between them. He could see his father was working himself up to say something. The fact that he was having to do so meant that it was nothing good.

Lucius took an audible breath before he opened his mouth and said, "I don't have much time left."

"What does that mean?"

Annoyance shone in Lucius' eyes for a moment. "You know what it means, Draco. It means I'm dying."

"No!" Draco objected. "No! The Healers are still working on you. They will find something. They have to find something."

His father shook his head sadly. "They're running out of time. I can feel it."

"You're just being silly. Of course you can't feel it."

As the words left his lips, Draco knew he was in denial. His father's face told him he was in denial and that he actually was running out of time. The combination of tiredness and sadness made Lucius look far older than he had just a few weeks ago.

"Mum," he said helplessly before tailing off.

"I haven't said a word to your mother. I can't. She's so happy, Draco. She hasn't been happy in a long while and I can't destroy that for her."

The words were left unsaid, but Draco didn't need them to be spoken aloud. The burden for this was going to fall to him. Lucius was letting him know, staying true to his promise of no more secrets, but the selfish part of Draco almost wished he had kept it to himself. How was he to deal with this information?

Dying.

The word echoed around his skull, sending vibrations down his spine, causing panic to ripple outwards through his body, and for a moment, his breath hitched, caught in his throat, unable to push up and out, choking him with the knowledge that his father was dying.

Dying.

He clawed his hand through his hair, needing something to tether him to the present.

"Draco," his father said softly, soothingly, helping him focus once more, the understanding in Lucius' gaze calming him.

"Okay," he said, panting a little. "It's okay. I'm okay. I can do this."

"I know you can. I might not have always been so supportive, so accepting of your feelings, but those days are gone. And I'm ashamed to say that it took this family being on the brink of disaster for me to get there. I should have been like that from day one."

"Dad, don't."

"No, I need to get this off my chest. I need for you to know so that you don't make the same mistakes. Don't be the father I was, Draco."

"I won't," Draco said, tears clogging his tone. "I'll be the father you are now."

In all his thirty years, Draco could honesty say he had never seen his father cry. Not even during the darkest days when the Dark Lord had commandeered the Manor and had pretty much put them under house arrest.

Now he could do nothing but sit silently and watch as a couple of tears escaped Lucius' eyes and slipped down his cheek before they were hurriedly brushed away and a crackle of parchment broke the sombre mood.

"Here," his father said, a sealed parchment in his outstretched hand.

Draco recoiled slightly. "Shouldn't Horatio have that, if that's what I think it is?"

A wry smile graced Lucius' lips. "This isn't my will. No, Horatio has that already and, to let you know, I've amended it so this baby is included."

If this was any other time, if his father was not dying, then the knowledge that Lucius whole- heartedly welcomed a halfblood baby would have sent warm tingles through him, but Draco could not help but wish an amended will was not necessary.

"What is this?"

"It's the funeral arrangements I want."

Draco stared at him, in shock. "But Horatio—"

"Yes, I could have left these with Horatio, too. But I wanted you to keep hold of them."

Taking them from Lucius' hand, Draco noticed his own was trembling slightly. He stood and moved across the room to the drinks cabinet, tapping his combination on the wood panelling with his wand. A pane moved across to reveal a safe. He put the parchment inside, hoping that it would be many months before he had to remove it.

With that done, he turned back around to face Lucius, who gave him a nod before rising from his chair and making his way out of the room. Draco could've sworn his steps seemed a little lighter.

However, Draco remained where he was, his thoughts in turmoil until the lunch gong rang.

Looking back, Draco cherished that Sunday lunch. Hermione and Narcissa had clattered down from the nursery, bright and breezy, full of plans for the baby that had Lucius smiling brilliantly, interjecting now and again with some suggestion for the nursery's decoration. A happy atmosphere had infused the table, and Draco struggled to remember a time when everything had been so positive. It would certainly have been before the war. Before the Dark Lord's resurrection.

His own dark thoughts had been banished as he'd watched Hermione's hand lovingly stroke the baby bump every now and again and his groans had been good natured as his mum pulled out the baby albums, showing a laughing Hermione all his embarrassing baby photos. Lucius had stood behind the two women, his hand resting intimately on Narcissa's shoulder the entire time.

The laughter and the good natured teasing stayed with him as the Healers piled through the Floo Network later that night in response to his panicked call. They lingered on as a warm memory as he watched his father's lifeless body leave the Manor for the last time, his mother's screams ringing in his ears.

AN2: ...don't hate me for this!