Author's Notes:
Here's Chapter 147 for you!
In UK schools, May is such a busy month due to so many standardised tests, so I've been very busy. But now it's June, and I'm less busy.
Love, DW
P.S. Enjoy x
Throughout that dreaded Monday, there was an uncomfortable atmosphere around Hogwarts as the professors anxiously awaited the school's inspection and observation reports. The students had been eerily quiet all day, picking up on these vibes. Hushed whispers could be heard through the corridors and during meals in the Great Hall, speculating whether their professors knew anything (and were keeping it from them) or if they were as clueless as the students.
At the end of the school day, as students milled around the corridors, chatting with their friends about where they would hang out before dinner, Meanwhile, their professors hurriedly packed their belongings and headed to the staff room. Those professors who had a free period last lesson nervously paced the room, a glass of something strong in their hand as they waited for their colleagues.
Hermione arrives before Draco and makes them both teas as she reminisces on their first few days as an apprentice teachers.
When they had first been shown to the staff room, their professors had occupied all the armchairs and couches, and so the five apprentices had taken the kitchenette table during staff meetings. It soon became apparent that each professor had claimed their armchairs in the staff room, Slughorn going so far as to bring his own in from home to make his meal times more comfortable. It wasn't until their apprenticeships ended and a few professors retired that armchairs became available for the new professors. Neville Longbottom and Jonathan Atkins had immediately claimed them for themselves. Not wanting to admit defeat, Pansy brought Professor Binns' old armchair from his office to the staff room. Pansy hadn't even cared when Hermione pointed out it was most likely the armchair their ghostly professor had died in. Since Hermione and Draco didn't intend to spend too much time in the staff room, they were okay with remaining at the tables for meetings or staff gatherings.
Slowly, over the next fifteen minutes, more professors arrive, and they begin taking their seats as they anticipate their meeting starting soon.
"Where is Minerva?" Pansy sighs, slumping down into her armchair with a glass of firewhisky.
Neville yawns loudly, stretching his back before he sits, drawing the attention of his colleagues. "Sorry, it's been a long, weird day."
"The students have picked up on it too," Filius points out. "Did anyone else have trouble keeping their focus?"
"Yes, they weren't interested. After my second lesson, I gave up and handed out tests. I won't count them in their final grades, but it kept them busy," Jonathan Atkins admits.
"I could barely focus myself; today has been such a write-off," Pansy agrees.
The door swings open, and all eyes snap towards the person entering, only to sigh in disappointment upon seeing Draco.
"Thanks," Draco chuckles, taking his seat beside Hermione. He kisses her cheek and then sips his cup of tea. "Are we still waiting on Minerva?" He asks the room.
"Yes, I haven't seen her all day," Filius admits. "She's been locked in her office since before breakfast."
"Did you not check on her?" Hermione asks. "After the Daily Prophet article on Saturday, I'm not expecting amazing results from the inspection."
"Of course, I checked on her," Filius grumbles. "How do you think I know she's locked herself away?"
"Sorry, Filius, I didn't mean to accuse you of neglecting Minerva. I wanted to check on her at lunch, but I was too worried about my results," Hermione admits.
"What's that thing your mum always says?" Draco asks her. "Whatever will be, will be."
"Que sera, sera," Jonathan answers. "My grandma loved Doris Day before she died."
"I'm sure Doris Day is still alive," Hermione points out.
"I meant my grandma died."
"Oh, sorry," Hermione apologises, blushing in embarrassment as Draco shakes with laughter beside her.
Thankfully for Hermione, the moment is diffused by Minerva bursting through the staff room door, a pile of parchments clenched in her arms. She immediately drops them on the coffee table, taking her seat before the fireplace, where she organises all the parchments into different piles. Her grey eyes flicker across the words before her through her cat-eye glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Framing her face are thin strands of her grey hair that have fallen from her usually tight bun. Seeing their headmistress in such a state is a rarity, which doesn't bode well for their results.
Eventually, Filius finds his voice and asks, "How are you doing, Minerva?"
She sends him a distinct look over the rim of her glasses before placing them atop her head and turning to address her colleagues.
"Shall we just get on with it?"
"That bad, eh?" Darius mutters, sipping from his glass.
Ignoring the comment, Minerva picks up the first parchment in the pile. "I received our results this morning, just before breakfast, and I've had all day to read through everything, make notes and put together a plan of action moving forward," Minerva announces.
"A plan of action?" Hagrid questions.
"Yes, there are some areas that need immediate attention. When the inspectors return this month, we must show we are taking steps in the right direction. I also have word from Mr Woodward that Minister Shacklebolt will assist in the next inspection," Minerva sighs.
"They're not giving us much time to make a difference," Pansy complains.
"I know, but we can do this if we follow my plan," Minerva assures them. Waving her wand, a piece of parchment flies out to each professor. "Our top priority is now student safety. I do not want our students to fear for their lives at Hogwarts while under our care. I also don't want to put any of you in a position where you are risking your life to protect our students. That is not within your role as a professor of Hogwarts. Instead, I have asked the Minister to appoint us two Aurors for Hogsmeade weekends to ensure our students are protected by the best. I will still need chaperones, but I have sent a letter to our governors requesting their presence at all future trips."
"That sounds great, Minerva. A positive step," Filius compliments her plans.
"Our next priority is student well-being. When speaking to the inspectors, numerous students brought up not having many opportunities to socialise outside of the school as the only places available are their common rooms and the library," Minerva begins.
"Sophie mentioned that to us last weekend," Hermione interrupts. "A group of them from all four houses have become friends, and they've been hanging out in a courtyard, but it's getting too cold now."
Minerva nods. "There are a few unused classrooms on the first floor, which we will transform into year group common rooms. On the third floor, by the library, we will create some study spaces for students who wish to work in groups without fear of being repeatedly shushed by Madam Pince," she attempts to make light of the situation, but the humour doesn't land, and the librarian in question tuts, crossing her arms disapprovingly. "Next on the agenda is extra-curricular activities. Some students mentioned that there aren't many out-of-school clubs they are interested in joining and want a wider variety. I want to ask each of you to think of a club you would be interested in running and come to me for approval by the end of the week. You will no longer be required to chaperone Hogsmeade trips, so this is now your out-of-hour requirement, and you will be paid overtime," Minerva tells them.
"Does this mean I can start my allotment club?" Neville asks.
"If the students wish to join, then yes, you have permission to build an allotment," Minerva agrees.
Neville's face lights up at the thought of teaching his students to grow fruits and vegetables behind the greenhouses.
"Quickly moving on, Ms Backhouse's main concern was student movement. She reports that overall, students are happy in the corridors and the Great Hall, which leads to students arriving a few minutes late. She was also- what did she say-" Minerva rummages around for a specific piece of parchment. "Ah, here it is. Ms Backhouse writes, 'I was disturbed by the number of adolescent children holding hands and showing public displays of affection by making out in the corridors and the Great Hall'."
There are a few snickers around the staff room at the terminology.
"Adolescent children is an oxymoron," Madam Pince shakes her head.
"I wouldn't say any of them are making out in the corridors," Jonathan chuckles. "I've seen, at worse, a quick peck before parting ways."
"Well, it's not appropriate during the hours of school. All students have five minutes between classes, which is more than enough time to get around the castle, so we need to start removing house points for late arrivals," Minerva announces.
"Some of us already do," Darius admits.
"We need to make sure our punishments are consistent throughout the school," she states. "Ms Backhouse also mentions that meal times should be a socialising opportunity for students, as though they were at home eating with their family."
"They eat with their school family," Filius mentions.
"We are trying to encourage house unity but aren't providing enough opportunities for students to socialise with other houses," Minerva points out. "I've decided that, on school days, students will remain at their house table for breakfast and lunch but will be allowed to move tables to sit with their friends for dinner, and on weekends, all meals can be eaten at whichever table they choose."
"I think the students will enjoy this change the most," Neville states.
"While we are making these changes due to the inspections, I wouldn't suggest anything that wasn't in the best interest of our students. Ultimately, everything we do is for them, and I want to make that clear to the students and the inspectors."
"Well said, Minerva." Hagrid claps.
"I don't want to keep you too late, so I'll get through these last two points quickly. Mr Woodward spent the first-morning reviewing examples of your marking and grade predictions. He reports that overall we are grading students accurately, but there were a few instances where he believed a student's predicted grade was too high. I argued in my meeting with him that we have high expectations for our students and wouldn't have predicted a grade we didn't truly believe they could achieve if they applied themselves correctly. However, Mr Woodward argues that we are applying too much pressure to some of our students." Minerva sends out a role of parchment to each professor. "This is our new grading policy to ensure each student is graded appropriately. We will now consider how students apply themselves in class and with their homework to determine their grades."
"The Ministry just loves making work harder for us," Pansy groans.
"Take the rest of the week to come to terms with the policy, then I expect it to be in use by next Monday," Minerva informs them. "Finally, Mr Callaghan questioned our choice of Slytherin fifth-year prefect as Mr Broadmoor's overall attitude and lack of respect towards Hogwarts, professors, and other students was concerning."
"I also question why Horace chose him; then I remember his mother was a member of the Slug Club," Draco snidely states. "I did warn the prefects at the beginning of the year that if they didn't respect my expectations, I would remove them from their position and appoint someone else."
"Do you have anyone else in mind?" Minerva asks.
"I'd like to appoint Miss Searle."
Minerva hums, "Traditionally, we appoint a boy and girl from each year."
"I am cautious about appointing any fifth-year boys as they aren't worthy of the responsibility, and Mr Broadmoor has them under his thumb," Draco explains.
Their headmistress nods understandingly. "Bring Mr Broadmoor to my office tomorrow after the last lesson, and I'll inform him of our decision. I might invite his mother to join us too; let them know we no longer accept this behaviour."
Draco grins, "I think that would be appropriate, considering the circumstances." He knows the fifteen-year-old boy needs to be taken down a peg, and it will be all the more upsetting for him if his mother is present.
"I'm cautious of time, so I will hand over your observation reports, and during the rest of the week, I'll invite you for a quick meeting to discuss them," Minerva states. "Don't worry; I have no major concerns with any of you, and most of the issues brought up were the inspectors' nit-picking."
Hermione sighed in relief, glad she wasn't about to be handed a foot-long parchment of improvements for her teaching.
One at a time, Minerva calls out their names and hands out their observation reports, which they each clutch tightly as they leave the staff room, eager to get to their rooms where they can read their observation results in privacy.
Hermione waits for Draco to receive his, then they return to their rooms together.
"Should we open them here or at home with a cup of tea and a slice of cake?" Hermione asks, hoping he'll agree to the latter, as she was hungry but only fancied a slice of the Victoria sponge that Mitty and Scorpius had made the previous day.
Draco shrugs, pocketing his result in his jacket pocket. "It can wait."
Once in their rooms, they collect their belongings and then floo home.
"We're home!" Draco calls out as they enter the kitchen.
Hermione makes a beeline for the pantry, flicking the kettle on as she passes. When she opens the pantry door, a shiver ripples down her spine. There had been no reply.
"Something's wrong, Draco," Hermione states, slamming the pantry door and running into the living room. "Where are they?"
"They'll be here somewhere, don't panic," Draco tries to calm her down.
"Too late," she mutters, eyes scanning the empty room.
"Other than Hogwarts and maybe The Burrow, our house is one of the most well-protected places in Britain," Draco reminds her.
"Then where are they?" Hermione pushes past him, making her way towards the staircase, when she notices a folded piece of parchment on the kitchen table. "Draco, here." Unfolding the note, she reads, "Mrs Malfoy was at the gate. Mitty take Scorpius to the Burrow. Mitty keep Scorpius safe."
Draco reads it over her shoulder. "They're safe."
"What was your mother doing here?" Hermione frowns.
"I don't know; I haven't spoken to her in months." Draco shrugs.
"Which is probably why she tried to visit unannounced," she frowns. "Should we pay her a visit?"
"If she's that desperate to visit us, she can send a letter first," Draco states, going over to the boiled kettle to make cups of tea for them.
"Narcissa has respected our boundaries up until now. Whatever she wants must be important," Hermione says.
"Why do you want to go to the Manor?" Draco asks.
"I don't, but it's a little worrying that your mother suddenly tried to visit us while we were at work; she must want something, and I'd rather get to the bottom of it now than have her show up unannounced again while Mitty and Scorpius are alone," Hermione explains.
Draco places the kettle back on its stand. "Fine, let's go, but I'm not staying long."
"I didn't say you had to stay. I want to know her reasoning."
They take the floo network to the Leaky Cauldron, then apparate from Diagon Alley to outside Malfoy Manor.
As it's been a while since they last visited Draco's childhood home, they are shocked to see the Manor's current state. The lawn is overgrown; the flower beds are full of dead plants, vines are crawling up the side of the Manor and bunches of weeds are poking out of the gravel path leading up to the front door.
"Maybe your mother isn't very well," Hermione suggests quietly as they reach the door.
"Why would you say that?"
"It's the only excuse for why she would allow the Manor to look so derelict," she says.
Draco ignores the uneasy feeling in his stomach as he knocks on the front door. A moment later, Gharther (his mother's house-elf) opens the door with a disappointed glare plastered across his face.
"Master Draco, Mistress Malfoy will not accept guests," Gharther informs them.
"We know she came by today; we want to know why?" Draco tells the house-elf.
"Let them in!" Narcissa orders from her parlour to the left of the foyer.
Gharther opens the door wider for them to enter. Hermione grips Draco's hand tighter as they enter, her eyes nervously scanning the interior to find no speck of dust atop the decor. Gharther must have been keeping up with his cleaning duties inside.
"Come sit, both of you," Narcissa instructs them.
They walk inside the parlour, but Hermione suddenly steps back when her eyes fall upon her mother-in-law. Narcissa Malfoy has always been slim, but sitting before them was a frail woman with almost translucent skin stretched across her cheekbones. The only colour on Narcissa's face is the redness surrounding her eyes, indicating she has spent some time crying.
"Are you well, Narcissa?" Hermione asks, but all she gets as answers is a harsh glare.
"I needed to speak with you." She stares intently at her son.
"You knew we wouldn't be home, so why did you drop by unannounced?" Draco asks, getting straight to the point.
"How was I to know you wouldn't be in?"
"It's a Monday, mother. We were at work?" Draco reminds her sarcastically.
"Well, after the Daily Prophet article I read at the weekend, I assumed you would have been fired," Narcissa claims, sounding amused.
"What happened last weekend was not Draco's fault."
"Does the truth matter in the eyes of the Ministry?" Narcissa ponders.
"What do you want, mother?" Draco asks, finally taking a seat across from her.
"Guess who I saw last month?" His mother smirks, her lips stretched tightly over her teeth.
Draco closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I thought this was important."
"It is," Narcissa snaps. "I saw Pyrites down Knockturn Alley."
Hermione turns to Draco, having not recognised the name. Draco stiffens as his eyes twitch.
"When did he get out?" Draco asks.
"In the summer, but per his parole, he's only allowed to leave his house once a week," Narcissa explains.
"Who is Pyrites?" Hermione asks, the hair on her arms standing on end as an uncomfortable fear settles in her chest.
"The most dangerous Death Eater the Dark Lord ever trained," Draco answers.
"More dangerous than Bellatrix?"
Narcissa almost growls at Hermione for mentioning her sister's name, but the sound dies in her throat.
"Bellatrix used her knowledge of magic to terrorise anyone who crossed her path. Pyrites like to get his hands dirty. His weapon of choice was a dagger," Draco explains.
"Why did they let him out then?"
"I assume he's done his time. He was arrested the night the Potters were murdered twenty years ago," Draco says, turning back to his mother with a frown. "Why is it so important that you tell us this?"
"He told me something quite interesting, something I didn't believe at first, but Pyrites was rather convincing," Narcissa tediously taunts.
"Mother, if you are so desperate to tell us, get on with it."
"Pyrites told me he overheard the Heads of Azkaban escorting you both to Lucius' cell," she claims.
While Draco freezes up, wondering how he could talk themselves out of this situation, Hermione bursts into laughter.
"And you believed him?"
"I believe him now," Narcissa admits, watching her son intently.
Draco sighs, knowing they've been caught.
"How did you even get permission?" She asks.
"Do you remember my nineteenth birthday?" Draco asks but doesn't wait for her response. "You told me I could take two books from the attic. Then you destroyed The Black's Family Tree book when I asked you about Hyperion Malfoy. I needed answers, so I went to the Minister and offered to testify against other Death Eaters for visitation to Lucius."
Narcissa's face turns sour as she remembers the moment well.
"From that initial meeting, we decided to continue to visit him, up until the rule of seven was announced, then we couldn't risk going anywhere where there would be more than seven people," Draco explains.
Hermione keeps quiet, not wanting Narcissa to catch them in the lie. After all, she might not like to hear that Hermione had first visited Lucius, and Hermione convinced Draco to keep seeing him.
"How is he doing?" Narcissa asks quietly.
"Oh," Hermione squeaks, recognising the pain in her mother-in-law's voice. "As Draco said, we haven't seen him since before the rule of seven was announced, but last we saw, he was doing well. At first, his mental state was bad, but he got better by talking to Draco and me. You should have seen his face when he met Scorpius," Hermione chuckles, then clamps her lips shut.
"He knows about Scorpius? You told him about the Decree?" Narcissa asks.
"Lucius wondered why I was there with Draco, so we told him. He wasn't best pleased at first, but he came round and loves Scorpius," Hermione defends their decision.
"I wish to see my husband," Narcissa demands.
Draco laughs sharply, "No."
"Draco, you sent my husband away and claimed to despise him; you banned me from visiting him, then visited him yourself, with your wife and son. The least you can do is let me visit my Lucius," Narcissa says, almost begging.
"I owe you nothing, mother." Draco shakes his head.
Narcissa's chin trembles as she realises she isn't getting her way. She faces Hermione instead. "You claim to love my son. So how would you feel if he was suddenly taken away and told you would never see him again for fifteen years?"
Hermione's eyes widen as she feels a pit of despair open in her stomach. She looks at Draco, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I don't know what I would do."
Draco shakes his head. "She's trying to manipulate you, Hermione." He takes his wife's hand, caressing her palm to assure her he's beside her. Then turning on his mother, he says, "Mother, you are in no state to visit Lucius. Look at yourself! If I took you to see him, seeing you like this would worsen his mental state. He would worry himself sick, and Azkaban does not do well with the sick."
"I can get better. I've been angry and not taking care of myself, but if you promise I can see Lucius, I'll get better. I'll have something to look forward to," she says, finally begging.
Hermione squeezes Draco's hand tightly, having never seen his mother like this.
"I can't make any promises. We haven't stepped foot in Azkaban since the rule of seven was announced. I don't know if I'll be able to visit him anytime soon, never mind you," Draco admits.
"Promise me you'll try." Narcissa leans across the coffee table between them, her hands on her son's face, maintaining eye contact.
"I promise that I'll try," Draco sighs.
"Good boy, you're such a good boy." Narcissa kisses both his cheeks. "Gharther!" She shouts, and when her house-elf appears, she orders, "Prepare dinner for three. We're celebrating."
"No, mother, we must get going. It's late," Draco stands, Hermione following his lead.
Narcissa's face falls slightly, but she quickly fixes her smile. "You must come for dinner soon. Bring Scorpius; I haven't seen him in so long."
"Yes, mother. Send a letter when you're available for dinner," Draco agrees, kissing her cheek.
"My boy, thank you," Narcissa says, opening their front door.
"Get well, Narcissa," Hermione gently encourages the woman before they take their leave.
Draco stops halfway down the gravel path towards the gate, turning to face the Manor.
"Fuck sake, I walked right into that, didn't I?" He glares at the overgrown exterior of his home. "I warned you of her manipulations, then got manipulated myself. She got exactly what she wanted out of that conversation. I bet anything she knew showing up at our house would bring us here so that she could talk to us on her ground."
Hermione shakes her head, but her eyes display her worry. "We only promised to try, and that's what we'll do. During the week, I'll write to Mr Ahmed and ask how the rule of seven affects Azkaban. We might be able to visit without the Minister being aware," she suggests.
Draco retakes her hand, urgently leading his wife away from Malfoy Manor. "There's no way I'm allowing her to visit him."
"Well, you don't know. It might do Lucius some good. He always asks about her, and if she sorts herself out beforehand, so he doesn't worry, I'm sure it'll be fine." Hermione shrugs.
Draco stares at her worriedly, "You know she was putting on an act. I don't know why she wants to visit Lucius, but it felt like a set-up."
Hermione sighs, "I know we're not overly fond or trusting of your mother after how she has treated us over the past couple of years, but she still has feelings and loves Lucius. I empathise with her."
As they exit the through the gates, Draco tells her, "I guess we'll talk about this later." Then apparates them to The Burrow to pick up their son and Mitty.
Once home, Hermione puts Scorpius straight to bed as it is nearing eight o'clock. Molly had been more than happy to feed him dinner and even bathed Scorpius with Phoebe and Philip. The twins had been collected when Hermione and Draco arrived, and Scorpius was beginning to drift off in the Weasley's playpen.
When Hermione returns downstairs after reading a quick book to her son, she finds Draco lounging across the couch in their study, staring at an untouched glass of firewhiskey.
"What are you thinking about?" She asks, kneeling beside him.
"My mother. Two years ago, when we were married, I felt relief because I was finally getting away from her, but she keeps dragging me back. I never learn," he sighs.
"She's your mother. You're always going to remember the good times from when you were a child and remember the mother she used to be. I know you want that mother back. You'll always want to protect that mother, which is why you were so concerned when we saw her state," Hermione tells him.
Draco nods. "Part of me believes that mother is still there, somewhere deep. Since the war and Lucius' trial, she's given up on everything, including me and herself. I noticed it during the summer before our eighth-year, but I didn't care back then. I just wanted to be out of her way," he admits. "If she manages to pull herself together, I'll stick to my promise and try to get her visitations to Lucius."
Hermione smiles softly. "All you can do is try."
Draco sighs more contently, placing the glass beside him on their bookshelf. "These results," he pulls out the piece of parchment Minerva had given them hours ago. "Shall we get it out of the way?"
Hermione had forgotten about their observation reports. "We might as well. I'd rather not take them into a new day."
After fetching her piece of parchment, they both open them together, taking a few minutes to read their own.
Hermione first reads her grade, which makes her stomach drop and her heart rate increase.
Professor: Ms Hermione Granger
Date: 26/09/2001
Grade: Poor
Observer: Mr Julius Callaghan
Class: Seventh year, sixth period
Ms Granger was well-prepared for her class. A so-called 'retrieval task' was written on the blackboard for students to complete. However, students didn't seem to understand what was expected of them and had to be prompted. Ms Granger then wasted additional teaching time by marking these tasks.
Ms Granger's teaching required a lot of call and answer, with most students respecting their professor by raising their hands before answering. One student disrupted the lesson with inappropriate questions. Ms Granger encouraged the questions by asking the student to study non-curriculum topics privately.
Ms Granger eventually got into the aim of the class, which was to practice conjuring birds non-verbally. Ms Granger gave frequent encouragement, but despite this, most students failed to achieve anything during the lesson, leaving the student feeling downhearted.
"What absolute bullshit," Draco mutters, handing his parchment over to Hermione.
"I know, read this. I got graded 'poor'; I've never been given a 'poor' in my life," Hermione complains, glancing down at Draco to find he had been graded a 'Dreadful'.
Professor: Mr Draco Malfoy
Date: 26/09/2001
Grade: Dreadful
Observer: Mr Julius Callaghan
Class: Sixth year, fourth period
Mr Malfoy was ill-prepared for his class, arriving five minutes late, leaving his students unattended in the most dangerous classroom at Hogwarts. It seems Ms Granger wrote Mr Malfoy's lesson plans and has introduced the same 'retrieval tasks' for his students. At least Mr Malfoy's students seemed to understand the purpose of the task and completed the work while they awaited his arrival.
Mr Malfoy's teaching required him to preach his disappointment with his students' lack of dissections methods, which, indeed, Mr Malfoy had been the one to teach. Mr Malfoy then wasted his student's whole lesson by having them practise their dissecting techniques for the remaining forty minutes.
Mr Malfoy observed his students well, although he called them out in front of the whole class when they made a mistake, applying too much pressure and discouraging the students.
"I'm sure if you had been on time, you would've been graded a 'poor'. That's certainly something you can work on for next time," Hermione sarcastically states, folding his parchment up and throwing it onto his desk.
"And you just need to ban students from thinking outside the box," Draco responds, smirking.
Hermione wraps her arms around her husband's neck. "Most of what those reports say is exaggerated. I'm sure we'll feel better after we meet with Minerva." She kisses his cheek. "And I'm sure the other professors have gotten similar reports."
"I'm sure," Draco hums.
"Come on, it's been a long day; let's order a pizza from down the road and then call it a night," Hermione suggests, still hungry from when they returned home after work and wanting more than a slice of cake now.
Draco chuckles. "Go get yourself a bath, and I'll order and collect the pizza."
"Thank you, I love you." Hermione kisses him quickly on the lips before racing upstairs.
Draco sighs contently as he stands, collecting his wallet and preparing to wander into the village for his wife's pizza. He wasn't pleased with his report, but at the end of the day, some things were more important than work, and getting his pregnant wife a pizza was one of them. As Hermione said, tomorrow was a new day, and Minerva's action plan had seemed promising, so maybe something good could come from these inspection reports.
Thank you so much for reading.
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