Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter & co. - just write what could have been.

AN: Reviews keep me going - please leave your comments, thoughts, etc.! :) hearing your thoughts! Me encanta escuchar sus opiniones.!

Shout out to my beta, A.

Chapter Forty

Draco blinked four times before Hermione's word finally registered in his brain. Theo's blue eyes stared down from on the floor. Dracohad more pressing matters despite wanting to solely concentrate on the witch before him.

"Can we discuss that later?"

Draco asked, glancing at Theo before looking back at her. He watched as she flushed before him and while he regretted that she felt embarrassed, hewould much rather not have the conversation about his meddling mother in front of a pissed off Theo. She nodded once and he relaxed a bit before dealing with the matter before him.

"Minty, please take Theo to his room and make sure he does not leave. Once we get there, please go and prepare a chamomile and lavender tea with a calming drought to accompany it."

Draco instructed and the little elf nodded. That would give the pair a moment if Hermione needed it. However, before Draco could address her, she backed away.

"I-I should go back to work."

She stumbled out her sentence.

"Granger, wait."

Draco said, reaching out for her. The action caused her to pause as she looked down at his hand. Draco didn't blame her unease around him; the last time they spoke, he had been nasty to her. He half expected a hex thrown his way, but she was better than him. The blond held his breath as he stepped closer to her and when he finally reached her, he exhaled. She didn't look up, they were onlyinches away, so he continued to stare down at her curls. He resisted the urge to touch them and instead reached for her right hand. Draco wasn't expecting to be near her – and alone – so soon. He could feel his heart in his throat. Draco brushed his fingertips against hers and that snapped her attention back up to his face. They stared at each other for minutes. They stared at each other for seconds. They stared at each other for years. He fell without restraint into the witch's brown eyes – she was golden.

"I'm sorry."

He whispered. He was apologizing for more than just being an arsehole, he hoped his tone conveyed that. He was apologizing for meeting her this way. He was apologizing for his interfering mother. He was apologizing for not giving her what she wanted currently – answers. It was a few more silent seconds before she replied,

"Did you know about the sponsorship?"

Hermione looked up to him, her brown eyes speckled with distrust that he could not fault her for. Draco wanted to know her better than he knew himself. He shook his head, dazedly, fully grasping her hand as he did. Draco could see the darkening of her brown cheeks and it made him lean in closer.

"I can talk to her about it if it bothers you so."

He whispered to her. She shook her head this time at him, some curls escaping her loose French braid.

"No, no. I was just curious."

She said. Draco unconsciously licked his lips and watched her open her own to mirror him. He desperately wanted to feel her lips against his own. He wanted nothing more to press into her, roam her mouth with his tongue, he wanted to see if she tasted as delectable as she looked; but he could not. Not while his best friend remained frozen somewhere in his manor, coming down from a high. Draco sighed and squeezed her hand, stepping back but not letting go of her.

"We should check on Theo."

He said. She nodded and let him lead the way. Before they left the privacy they created, Draco pulled her hand towards his mouth, kissing her palm gently. He watched her cheeks darken, blushing more deeplyas she watched the action. He waited for her to look back up at him. The desire to kiss her properly increased twentyfold when she leaned into him.

"We should go."

He whispered. She seemed to remember herself and nodded, leaning away.

"Right, Theo. He's on forgo and me mentioning that made him flip."

She whispered. He gulped down his reply as he nodded and led them to Theo's bedroom. He didn't let go of her hand the entire way. Reaching Theo's wooden doors, he paused, kissed the back of Hermione's hand before letting go. He instantly missed her warmth, but he saw the understanding in her face. She nodded slightly and Draco nodded once before pushing the heavy door open. Theo was having a staring match with Minty but she quickly stopped glaring at him when the pair came in.

"Master Theo is being naughty!"

She exclaimed, her voice high. Draco sighed and looked at his friend while he left Minty to Hermione.

"Mate…"

He said. Theo turned to glare at him.

"I can handle this myself."

He snapped. Draco rolled his eyes at him.

"Right."

He deadpanned, making a point to eye Theo's disheveledhair, unwashed body, and dirty robes.

"I can!"

Theo yells. Draco stuffs his hands in his pants, standing before his friend.

"Fine. But you need to shower and eat before we leave."

Draco said. He silently appreciates that Hermione hadn't said a word. Theo was always more of dick when there was someone else involved, besides Blaise. Theo continued to glare at him.

"I'm not a child."

He said coldly. Draco rolled his eyes at his best friend.

"Then stop acting like one."

He retorted back. Theo opened his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it.

"You're acting like a toddler, smell like one too, and we're not asking you of anything that you can't do by yourself but apparently are failing to."

Draco said. Theo doesn't reply; his lack of retort meant Draco had officially won the argument. He was relieved – he knew Theo could be a right bastard when he wanted to, especially inebriated. Draco sees the fading effects of the forgo leaving Theo's person. He staggers slightly and from his peripheral, he sees Hermione reach out to him, but Draco puts out his right hand to stop her. A few seconds pass and more relief floods Draco as he sees his sobering mate.

"Fine."

Theo replied, tiredly before marching over to the connecting bathroom, barely slamming the door. Draco sighed as he turned to look at Hermione.

"I should go back to work."

She said, softly. He didn't argue, even wanting her to stay. He nodded once before reaching for her as she with uncertainty accepted his hand. He stepped into her, holding her left hand close to his chest, mere centimeters apart as she looked up at him. She is blushing again, Draco noticed. Even though Theo could appear any minute, he couldn't deny this witch much; he wanted to give her the certainty she needed – that he needed as well.

"We'll talk later?"

He asked, giving her hand a squeeze. She nodded before Draco could count the freckles on her skin as she slowly pulled away. His heart was racing at the thought of her not wanting to leave.

"Take care."

She said before exiting out of Theo's room. Draco didn't even have two seconds to himself before Theo's blue eyes clashed into his.

"At least someone is having a good day."

Theo's snarky comment came from the opened bathroom door which earned him a scowl. Now to deal with the pressing matter, Draco cursed himself.

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Narcissa roamed the Manor's halls listlessly. She hadn't regretted her decision to bless Draco's budding relationship with Hermione Granger. However, she was uneasy. She didn't know how to fully navigate a relationship between a Muggleborn witch opposed to a Pureblood one. Along with navigating a new relationship with a differently cultured witch, Narcissa had to meet Lucius. The decision for the Dementor's Kiss had been delayed for him and Narcissa was taking all the time she could with her withering husband. Even though he wasn't himself, Narcissa still held onto what she could. After a long search of her person and leaving her wand behind, Narcissa entered the cold room that was used for visitations. She hugged the fur lined robe closer to her, glad she wore matching gloves into the Circe-forsaken place. She heard the rattling of the chains placed on Lucius' feet and hands before she saw him. It was always the same noise; he was forevermore bonded to this place – in more ways than others. Narcissa closed her eyes, imagining she was meeting her husband elsewhere before she heard the pulling of the metal chair before her. He sat down in front of her. She opened her eyes, and she felt the blood drain from her face. While she shouldn't be surprised at the state of her husband, death always was uncanny. Narcissa tried to ignore the jaunt features of his once full face; she struggled to avoid his ratty prison clothes, gray as the color of his skin.

"'Cissa."

He hoarsely whispered. Narcissa forced herself to not reach out to him. Lucius was ever proud. Her reaching out to him always cost the visit to go sour.

"Mon cœur."

She replied, the French falling off her tongue easily. Lucius smiled at her, keeping his mouth closed as he didn't want her to see his decaying teeth.

"How is the world beyond these walls?"

He asked as if the setting was a tea party instead of a prison visit.

"Surprising, changing as always."

Narcissa answered. Lucius nods and for longer than a moment, he stares off into the distance. Narcissa knows this is the only time for true peace as the dementors aren't near, so she doesn't interrupt.

"How's Draconian?"

Lucius asked after a moment of eerie silence, using his pet name for their son. Narcissa paused before she answers,

"He is doing better. He has a new pursuit."

That interested the thinning, platinum blond as he tilts his head.

"Not the clubs again."

Lucius manages to drawl. Narcissa shakes her head.

"No. A witch."

She confessed. This was one of the reasons why Narcissa went to speak with Lucius today. While she knew he wouldn't approve, she had to let know her dying husband that their son had finally found someone. He had found someone he wanted, one that thought was worth pursuing, and Narcissa was happy for him. After everything they had been through, Narcissa wanted her son to be happy – even if it meant going against tradition. He deserved it, in Narcissa's thoughts. However, she couldn't speak for her husband. Even if she wanted to keep this from the disappearing wizard before her, she couldn't – Lucius still received information from the outside world. He would know, sooner or later, from the Prophet or whatever news he got that his son was dating the war heroine.

"Who? Please don't tell me it's that dull Parkinson girl."

Lucius said.

"No."

Narcissa said, laughing slightly at his words. Lucius didn't like Pansy for their son, but he would rather have her than Draco's own choice. He knew of Pansy's proclivities when it came to her sexuality, and while he didn't disapprove, he didn't want that for their son.

"Then who?"

He asked. Narcissa turned her head to look at the slate coloured brick wall before her. Inhaling deeply and trying to steel her nerves from the oncoming reaction, she answered simply,

"Hermione Granger."

If possible, Lucius Malfoy paled even further. He quickly stood up, Narcissa didn't even think he had the strength to, and the chains jerked around him as the metal groaned against the sudden movement. He looked more alive than Narcissa had seen since he had been incarcerated.

"NO!"

He bellowed and Narcissa flinched.

"Narcissa you cannot allow it! You cannot!"

He yelled, spit falling from his lips as guards dressed inmaroon robes came back in to take him to his cell. Any commotion that Lucius gave, the guards didn't hesitate to pull him back into his hell. This time, Narcissa didn't protest on his behalf. She watched the trained wizards drag a raging Lucius out. Narcissa said nothing, letting her husband continue to curse the day the Dark Lord fell and the 'mudblood bitch' allowed to live outside the Manor. He roared about the purity of the family name being sullied by Mudbloods alike. Narcissa pressed her fingers against her lips, a single tear escaping her. She was glad she told him alone. She would never utter the words to her son. Narcissa hurriedly stood up to leave the awful place behind; she couldn't get away fast enough. Yet, as soon as she got her wand back, Minster Shacklebolt walked in, two auror guards behind him. Narcissa schooled herself as she inclined her head. The Minister dressed in deep magenta robes, a matching kufi. He showed off his power in a quiet but nevertheless, impressive manner. His dark robes complimented his brown skin beautifully.

"Minster."

She said. Shacklebolt offered a tight smile as he bowed his head as well.

"Lady Malfoy."

His deep voice said. Narcissa stepped toward the right, to allow him through but he followed her movements. Before Narcissa could ask, the Minister spoke.

"I received word that you were here and was also on my way for routine inspection."

Shacklebolt said. Narcissa rose her eyebrow.

"I should let you know, and offer condolences to your family, that Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced to the Kiss three days from now."

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Harry James Potter tried his best to not laugh at his very average, very Muggle, very anti-magical cousin and his girlfriend sitting in front of him. Dudley was dressed in a plain white polo, but he seemed to have lost some weight as he wasn't as round as Harry remembered him. The lady besides him reminded Harry of a young Angela Lansbury, but she had a full pout. They were in a busy pub/restaurant that Dudley had told Harry to meet him at; it was in the middle of London and Harry was grateful for apparation otherwise it would have been a journey to travel here from Hogwarts. Harry wanted to sneer and smirk and morph back into his younger self to do so at them, but he refrained. The curious brown eyes of the brunette woman at his cousin's side managed to at least wonder why he had been requested to a lunch via telephone. Harry didn't even know how Dudley had managed to get his number, but that could wait for another time.

"I'm invited to your wedding?"

Harry asked again. Dudley was pink in the face as he nodded once while his fiancée besides him cleared her throat.

"Yes."

She answered. Harry couldn't help himself.

"Why? No offense, Dudley, but we weren't the best of chums."

Harry said. Dudley's face reddened even more causing blotchy patches to appear on his neck and Harry only felt a tad guilty. Dudley murmured something that Harry couldn't make out. With some encouragement from Forsythia – Harry finally remembered her name –, and an awkward smile from Harry, Dudley cleared his throat.

"I… Want to make amends."

Dudley answered. Harry can't help but to feel suspicious of his only cousin, but he doesn't speak on it. Last time he spoke to his cousin, he basically admitted to having some familiar affection in Dursley speak. While Petunia and Vernon didn't offer as much as Dudley gave, it was something. Besides, the black-headed wizard was exhausted from fighting in war, he didn't have the energy to deal with his muggle family. But Harry was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now clearing his own throat, Harry leaned back, gripping his knees from under the table.

"Alright. When is it?"

He asked. Dudley managed a weak smile as Forsythia pulled out a fern-coloured envelope. She was smiling brightly at the pair as she held it out for Harry. Harry could sense the optimism escaping from her and he couldn't help but to wonder what Dudley had told his fiancée about his weird cousin. Did he tell her I was different? That I was a druggie? That I was a weirdo? Harry couldn't help the questions forming in his head. He tried to smile back, but figured he looked constipated, he stopped and took hold of the invitation.

"All the details are there! Just send the reply note back for a plus one and what type of meat you prefer."

Forsythia said. Harry nodded dumbly as he turned the envelope over. "Harry P." was written in a pale pink.

"Congrats, by the way."

Harry said after moments of staring at his name. Dudley's future wife smiled sweetly at him while Dudley gave him a genuine grin. Maybe this isn't going to be completely awful, Harry thought optimistically. Then he pondered if Forsythia's attitude was contagious and if that's why Dudley was marrying her.