A/N:

Chapter two! See, we're already getting longer than the first one. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfully magical world of Harry Potter, nor its characters.

xxx

After the press conference, Hermione's day had been a blur of owls, emails, and phone calls all full of congratulations for her new promotion. She tried to respond to every one as quickly and politely as she could, but there were entirely too many to answer in one day. There was an auto-response message set up for the emails, Jenna handled the phone messages and also prioritized the owls by most urgent to respond. When Hermione finally made it home at half past six, she barely had time to feed Crookshanks before exhaustion took over and she fell into bed.

Friday morning came early, especially considering how drained Hermione was from the previous day. She woke up with a terrible feeling of anxiety about her father's impending doctor's visit, knowing that there would be bad news. His last appointment had been a few weeks prior and was supposed to tell them that the treatment had worked and that he had beaten the cancer. The cancer was supposed to have shrunk, or to at least stop metastasizing, so that surgery could be planned to remove it. As it happened, the tumor was as strong as ever and was barely touched by the treatment. Dr. Watkins had then recommended that they see a specialist, Dr. Redd, who would be able to give them a better idea of their next steps.

Hermione's mother had been devastated and was convinced that her husband was dying. Surprisingly, Mr. Granger had been pretty optimistic about everything. Hermione knew he was faking to please her mother, but she was thankful that he was at least feeling well enough to fake it.

The appointment with the specialist was at noon, and Hermione made it a point to leave her office at eleven fifteen so as not to be late, even though the office was a mere twenty minutes away. She didn't want to give her mother another excuse to lecture her.

Over the past year, it seemed as though Mrs. Granger had become increasingly less happy with the decisions Hermione made. She was not pleased with her daughter's career choice, and would have much preferred her to become a professor – something simple. She also wasn't too keen on her breakup with Ron, who she thought hung the moon. Hermione's father hadn't minded that they had broken things off; he and Ron never quite could agree on anything, and the fact that Ron only ever wanted to talk about Quidditch didn't help.

Mrs. Granger had definitely been more moody than usual, but Hermione chalked it up to stress caused by her father's condition and left it at that. She didn't have time to question her mother's every moves, so she decided to drop it. If she had a problem, she would say something.

As Hermione walked into the waiting room at eleven forty-five, she immediately noticed how different everything looked in comparison to Mr. Granger's other doctor's office. Where Mr. Watkins' was color schemed white and beige, this one was light blue and gray. There was dark gray carpeting instead of the usual white tile, and the typical hospital smell that so often lingered in any place of medical treatment wasn't present. Instead, a scent of flowers filled the room. Hermione walked over to where her mother and father were already seated, her mother reading a magazine and her father with his eyes closed leaning his head back against the wall, and was greeted by her mother first.

"Hermione, dear, how nice of you to make it. Actually early for once?" Her tone was full of sarcasm as she flipped the page in her magazine.

"Hello, Mum," Hermione sighed as she put her briefcase down and sat on the other side of her father, "nice to see you too."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," her mother added, "I was only joking."

Somehow, Hermione didn't believe that. Her father's welcoming was much warmer.

"Hello, darling," he said as he leaned over and hugged her. "How's the new promotion going? Save the world yet?"

"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes, "my first day on the job and I've already managed to save the world."

This time he laughed out loud and patted her hand with his. She smiled back and, for a moment, forgot the reason that they were all here. It wasn't until her father's name was called that she was brought back to reality.

"Mr. Walter Granger," called a young nurse, looking up from her clipboard and smiling in their direction. There weren't too many other people waiting so Hermione assumed it couldn't have been too hard to figure out who was who by their charts.

The entire Granger family got up and walked behind the door separating the waiting room from a long corridor. Families were not allowed in the exam rooms, but since they were there for a consultation the doctor and staff had kindly made a concession.

They followed the nurse down the rather long corridor and stopped at a door on their left. Inside was a spacious room, complete with a coffee bar and a large conference table. Mrs. Granger immediately went to the coffee bar and started doctoring two cups – presumably one for herself and Mr. Granger.

The nurse smiled at them again saying that they doctor would be in momentarily before leaving them.

Hermione walked over to the conference table and took a seat. She tried to mentally prepare herself for the conversation that was soon to follow, but found that every time she thought about it she would get teary.

"Hermione, would you like any coffee?" her father asked.

"No, thank you," she said. Nothing sounded particularly pleasing.

It wasn't until her parents were half way finished with their coffee that the specialist walked in. He was a very tall man with dark brown hair and blue eyes, looking to be in his early thirties. Hermione thought it interesting that he could already specialize given his age, but then remembered that she was head of a division at the Ministry and was only twenty-one.

"Good morning," he said, showing bright white teeth and walking over to shake their hands.

"My name is Doctor Redd. Doctor Watkins sent me your file a couple of weeks ago, and I've looked it them thoroughly. Unfortunately, I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?"

He directed his question at her father, waiting for him to make the decision.

"Bad I guess," Mr. Granger said as he placed a hand on his shaking knee.

"The bad news is, your cancer is spreading fast and there isn't much we can do to slow it down or stop it."

Her mother let out a sob and pulled a tissue from the box sitting in front of them. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was putting on a show. This was news they had heard from Dr. Watkins personally before they had been referred to the specialist.

"The good news is," Dr. Redd continued, "that there is an experimental trial and you seem to be a prime candidate."

Hermione's mother immediately stopped her sniffling and looked at the doctor in disbelief. Mr. Granger looked straight ahead, not showing any emotion and making it quite difficult to tell what he was thinking.

"What do you mean, 'experimental trial'?" her father asked evenly.

"Well, this treatment would be much like the one you had before. It will be intravenous, meaning it will still go through your port-a-cath, and your appointments will be the same as they were before. You'll come to the clinic for three or four days a week and receive treatment for around six months. The reason this trial is experimental is because the drugs being used are new and are currently in a clinical trial. Their success rate isn't nearly as high as other drugs, but seeing as we've used the drugs that are typically effective with your cancer already and they did nothing, I think this trial is now worth more consideration. The medicines being used have been designed to treat prostate cancer, specifically that which has metastasized to the bone, and at stage four which by your current scans, is exactly what you have. I'm hopeful that these specific medications will do as we had projected in your first round of treatment – stop the cancer from spreading."

The room was silent while each member of the Granger family took in what the doctor said. Hermione saw hope. Her father saw possibility. Her mother saw dollar signs.

"And how much exactly would something like this cost?" she asked rather rudely. Hermione leaned forward and shot her a look, effectively shutting her up.

"Well," he sighed, "that's the other bad news. This trial isn't free because the medicines haven't been approved through the NHS. They're still quite new and their success rate isn't as high is the NHS would like it to be, and with treatment being four days a week at six months, you would be looking at fifty-eight thousand pounds. If you chose to live at the facility instead of commute, it would be eighty one thousand, two hundred pounds. New Beginnings is a new building, and still has a few openings. You will essentially live in an apartment complex, but with a cancer center on the bottom floor. New Beginnings is on the outskirts of London, so I would recommend staying there."

Hermione's eyes went wide, as did her father's.

"What if we choose not to do the trial? What happens then?" her father asked.

"What do you mean 'not do the trial'," her mother said, "of course you're doing it!"

"If you choose not to participate in the trial, I'm afraid the outcome doesn't look good," Dr. Redd said. "We can always try the same treatment we did before, but I doubt you'll get the results you're hoping for. I know money is a concern, but there are programs out there for people who need financial help."

Dr. Redd handed Mr. Granger several brochures, all containing information about private donations and payment plans.

"It's always worth a shot to apply," the doctor finished. "Do any of you have any questions?"

Hermione was the one to speak up this time.

"Yes, when do you have to have your answer?"

"Preferably by Monday after next so that we can start treatment the following week," he said.

With that, Hermione, her mother, and her father shook Dr. Redd's hand and made their way back through the long corridor. They passed the same nurse that had showed them in, and Hermione offered her a weak smile. Once they all made it safely out of the office, Mr. Granger stopped and looked at his wife.

"Jean, we can't afford this," he said.

"Of course we can!" she yelled back at him. "It's for your health, Walter. We will make do."

She turned on her heel and stomped away. Hermione knew that her parents had savings, but she also knew that they had used most of it in Australia. They still had some, but she doubted if it was enough to cover the expense of treatment and living at the facility for six months. Both had intended to go back into dentistry, but her father had been diagnosed so soon after returning to London and having his Obliviated memory restored that neither had a chance. Her mother expected Hermione to stay home and take him to his visits three times a week, but her father wouldn't let her quit her job at the Ministry. He knew how much she loved it and knew the difference she was making in her world – he wouldn't let anything come in between that. Likewise, he wouldn't allow Hermione to use the money she had received from the Ministry to help either.

Mr. Granger turned to his daughter and handed her the applications for private donations and the payment plan information.

"Here," he sighed, "you take these. If I take them home, Jean will just pick through them and find a flaw in each one. Look through them if you have time and let me know which ones your favorites are."

She took the brochures carefully, as if they would ignite at any moment. It felt odd, the fact that he was having her make such a life altering decision. Hermione looked up at her father and noticed that the dark circles which had once been mere shadows, were now solid and unforgiving. She wondered how much he actually slept at night.

"You know I will," she said as she tucked them into a side pocket of her briefcase. "Go home and get some rest. I'll call you when I've found one."

She leaned in and hugged him tight before turning around and heading back towards the Ministry. She still had four hours before she could go home, and the pile of work on her desk that never seemed to get any smaller would have to have a significant dent in it before she would leave with a good conscience.

xxx

Lucius Malfoy sat at his dining room table, as he did every day for lunch, at eleven forty five. Narcissa had come up with a meal schedule that he and Draco were supposed to abide by, but it seemed as though Lucius was the only one who feared Narcissa's wrath enough to listen.

When Draco graduated from Hogwarts, his parents had been generous enough to gift him the entire second floor to live on, which was laid out much like the first. After walking up one of the split stair cases, his foyer, drawing room, library, sitting room, study were all to the left, and seven bedrooms, including one master suite, and five bathrooms were to the right. The only difference between his level and the main level was the lack of kitchen, which his floor made up for with extra space in the master suite. Narcissa insisted that Draco ate meals with his family – breakfast at seven, lunch at midday, and supper at six – so that she would get to see her son on a daily basis. Draco never made it for breakfast and only occasionally for lunch. Supper seemed to be the only meal he wasn't gone or hungover for.

His years after graduating were supposed to be a time to grow up and mature, but for Draco they were a string of late nights and women. He spent almost every night in a different pub, and every night he went out he brought home a different woman. Lucius knew because he would catch them sneaking out around breakfast time the next morning, not bothering to stay and introduce themselves. Most of them were sloppy and unattractive, but every once in a while Lucius would catch a glimpse of a girl who looked like she could have had potential. He never saw the same girl twice.

Narcissa, sick of the string of tasteless women, set Draco up on a date with Astoria Greengrass the previous summer, a few weeks after she had graduated. He went on one date with her and came home with a nasty look stuck on his face, refusing to explain to his family what had happened. He'd walked up the steps to his floor, stomped down the hallway to his room and slammed the door. He didn't come down for the rest of the evening – not even to go out. To Narcissa's knowledge, the two hadn't spoken since. She had asked Rhea, Astoria's mother, the next day to find the witch just as bewildered as she. Rhea tried to talk to her daughter, but Astoria refused to answer any questions when it came to Draco. Both mothers found that extremely curious, but neither pushed.

As Lucius sat there, thinking of the choices his son had made over the years, he couldn't help but think of the choices Draco still had not made. Draco would turn twenty one in a little over one month, which meant that he was to take over the company. Unfortunately, Draco was ineligible due to his marital status. Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius' late father, had started their company as an investment firm. Well off wizards from all over the world placed money into Malfoy Investment Co. for safe keeping – some expecting full repayment plus interest in years time and some as a donation to rid themselves from the taxes of it all. The donations went to several hospitals and treatment clinics, while the investments went towards up and coming companies who needed some help getting their feet off the ground.

Abraxas had been ready to step down as head of the company and take more of a supervisor role. He'd wanted his son to take over, but knew that marriage and children had been the furthest things from Lucius' young mind. Abraxas then created the Marriage Clause to force Lucius to marry and settle down, lest he forfeit any right to the company or its proceeds. Essentially, Lucius would be cast out from the family, never to return. Of course, this encouraged Lucius to find a wife, and of the three candidates presented to him by his father, he had chosen Narcissa Black. Six months after their first date they were married, and six months after that Lucius had inherited the role of Head of Malfoy Investment Co. Unfortunately for Draco, he had a mere five weeks to find a wife, marry her, and take over the company.

Narcissa had pushed Lucius to make a change to the Marriage Clause, begging him not to force their son to marry. Her one regret in life was that she did not have the opportunity to fall in love before marriage, and she did not want to force her son to endure the same hardships. Lucius did not care about his son's happiness, or the hardships that he may or may not have to endure – he cared only for the Malfoy name, and that it not be tarnished by his son's inability to find a decent wife.

Lucius had talked with Draco several times on the idea off marriage, and every time Draco had stalked off before his father could explain how imperative it was that he marry before twenty-one. Over the past several years, Malfoy Investment Co. had begun to crumble. Investors wanted their returns, prospective investors turned away uninterested, and donors wanted nothing to do with them, all because of their last name. The company had been performing well and was producing excellent results until the war, which had crippled the economy. People were still trying to rebuild – including the Malfoys. Their choosing to side with Voldemort had also hindered their ability to keep their current investors and gain new clients.

After the war, Lucius and his family had changed sides and he'd been trying ever since to prove his non-prejudice against muggle-borns. The time for chauvinistic ways had long passed, and even Lucius knew that he would either have to adapt to the ever changing world or be left behind to rot in his old ways. He had done his part in changing by not using the term "mud-blood" and had attempted to sign several companies that were either led by or support muggle-borns. Being born into a family which promoted hatred, it was much harder for Lucius to conform to the belief that muggle-borns were equal to pure-bloods in every way, however, he could honestly say that he was giving his best effort. Unfortunately, no one believed Lucius when he said that he had changed, and none were willing to invest their money or take invested money from Malfoy Investment Co. The company was going down, and it would take a huge move to resurface it.

Lucius hoped that Draco's marriage would bring enough publicity to the company that would encourage potential investors to take them seriously. Lucius had considered on several occasions to arrange a marriage between Draco and a muggle-born witch, simply to show the world that the Malfoys were no longer a family full of pure-blood and self righteous pigs, but as he had not been raised around muggle-borns, he'd had no idea where to start looking for a prospective wife. Of course, he'd had many offers from pure-blood families, offering their daughters as wives but if Lucius was honest with himself, he knew that those girls would be no match for Draco.

In spite of all of his bad faults, Draco was not without talent. He had accomplished things that the kids in his class merely dreamed of. He had received NEWTs in both Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he'd mastered Occlumency, Legilimency, and non verbal magic all before his sixth year. He was strong willed and had a determined mind. Draco would need a wife just as intelligent, determined, and talented in order to keep him on his toes.

The flickering of several cameras flashing at once brought Lucius out of his thoughts, and he glanced down at the table where the morning edition of the Prophet still sat. There, on the front page, was a picture of that troublesome girl Granger, being bombarded by the press and graciously accepting her promotion. Lucius sneered at the photo. She had tried in vein to imprison him after the war for acts against muggle-borns and blood traitors. The court ruled in his favor because he had defected before Voldemort died, but that didn't stop her from fighting. That wretched girl went so far as to request another hearing - denied of course. She wanted to make him pay, and if he truly thought about his actions, he couldn't blame her. The article was about her promotion to the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Cameras were flashing in her face as she held onto her tight smile. A very poorly written article below the photo told him that her name was actually Hermione, and that she was very pleased with this promotion and the direction it was taking her in life.

It took him a moment, but when the realization dawned on him that she was, in fact, a muggle-born, he couldn't ignore the fact that she was blindingly perfect. She had been neck and neck with Draco all throughout school, had earned several NEWTs, had a decent job at the Ministry, worked hard, and had an noticeable amount of determination. She would, in theory, be a perfect wife for Draco. The kind that would produce a brilliant bloodline capable of changing the world. However, he knew it would never work. Draco hated her from their rivalry in school and would never choose her if given the option. He would be more likely to choose that Parkinson girl, who everyone knew was trying to marry for money.

Actually, if Lucius presented his options just right, Draco could be forced to marry Granger. Although, that wouldn't mean that Granger would be willing to marry him. Lucius knew that everyone had skeletons in their closet, and was determined to find out what Hermione's were in the event that he could convince Draco to marry her. From what Lucius knew, she was a very bright witch and it would take nothing short of blackmail to convince her to marry the likes of a Malfoy.

With that, Lucius set the prophet back on the table, grabbed his cane and headed to his fireplace. He would have to miss lunch today, something he was sure Narcissa would yell at him for later, but he was determined to find out whatever he could on Miss Granger.

xxx

A/N:

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