Quick Author's Note:
Yes, I know I have not uploaded in some time. Once holidays hit, life has just been shite. Plus, I developed writer's block concerning this story. I know where I want to take it, but the scenes on the way there are coming to me a bit slower. I'll continue to attempt to push through, though.
~ Haarii
Hermione and Draco stood leaned against his kitchen island, both sipping on a coffee as they watched two already ecstatic balls of energy chase one another about in the living room. Scorpius and Rose had gotten up rather early, a promise of a trip still settled within their minds. Draco lazily shifted his head towards the witch by his side, an unimpressed expression rested on his features. She looked just as exhausted as he felt, a dark shadow under her hooded eyes. The wizard nudged her with his shoulder, making those petals of hers pull into a terse line and edge to the side.
"This is your fault, witch," he taunted with a playful murmur. Her tongue kissed the back of her teeth as she raised her hand and downed a good amount of coffee. The mug was placed back on the counter, an audible clack followed the somewhat rough action. Hermione stalked around the island, across the grey hardwood flooring, and stopped in the middle of the living room, hands positioned on her hips.
"I beg your pardon, Heathens," the brunette loudly started, making the two littles suddenly halt their play, "what is it you are supposed to be doing?"
"Eating, mummy" Rosie mumbled, her little topaz orbs glanced away. The older witch tilted her head, her brows arched with it.
"And is that what you're doing now?" She questioned, her hazels slid to Scorp, who was trying hard to not be noticed. He wordlessly shook his head while he peered up at her through already thick lashes. The little blond was going to be just as handsome as his father one day, and Merlin help any poor witches in his crosshairs. Hermione moved to the side and gestured back to the island, the two followed her silent demand and hurried to their seats and magically warmed food.
"I thought you two wanted to go to the park today," Draco reminded them before he bit into a strawberry. They nodded while they hurriedly ate. It seemed both realized how hungry they actually were as they munched away at their food. The witch was back from disappearing, a bundle of clothes were gripped in her hand as she carried Hugo. The blond man took the little tot from her and showered him with kisses as he retreated back to the counter.
"Good morning, li'l man," Draco gently greeted him while he sat him on the counter. He had a bowl of freshly pureed fruits mixed with a bit of oatmeal waiting for Hugo. "Before we go anywhere today, Scorp, Rosie, you need to clean the living room back up, put everything back where you found it. Afterwards, you'll have to brush your teeth, hair, and get dressed."
"Okay," came out in a chorus, Hugo's smacking lips was the background music. A small smile crossed the older wizard's lips as he looked over Hugo.
"You're damned adorable, kid" Draco chuckled, kissing the tiny palm that was reaching upward to play with his tied back hair. "He has your nose, you know?"
"That's what daddy says," the witch told him as she watched him with her son. Years ago, one would never think Draco Malfoy would be so good with children, let alone hers. Hermione kissed Draco's cheek before the woman retreated to get dressed herself, she had been merely wearing a robe after taking a shower.
"It is certainly true, li'l man," Draco assured the tot who had no clue what he was talking about. "You are going to have the ladies all over you, kid. Well, unless you're like Theo, in which case you'll have all the gentlemen after you. Your mummy won't care about that, so don't you ever worry about which you like more."
"Davies has been asking when you two are going to come out and join a match," Harry relayed while he let a patiently waiting Albus down to his feet. He and Alan ran off to play on the barred dome, one of their favourite areas. Ron leaned against a tree, his arms wrapped around his little dark beauty as she leaned back against him. "It's been awhile since you have been out on the pitch."
"Yeah, 'Nita has been covering for a girl at work a lot lately," the red-head replied with his eyes stuck on the boys as they carelessly raced to the top, one nearly fell through when his foot slipped. Ron snorted and held the witch in his arms tighter to prevent her from rushing over to the two of them. "They're fine, woman. So, 'Mione has decided on a Ben and Holly—or Holly and Ben's Kingdom theme for Rosie's party."
"Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom," Anita kindly corrected him.
"Same thing," he sighed, his voice adopting a bit of a groan, his eyes rolling with a shake of his head.
"Lily likes to sit and watch that one, too," Harry chuckled as he kissed the little strawberry brunette's crown, "isn't that right, princess?"
"Speaking of Rosie," Anita chimed, her head tilted to the side as she looked across the playground, "isn't that her over there?"
" Hm?" Ron quirked a brow, his topaz orbs flitted over the park. His little girl was, indeed, running around the turn about with a wild grin on her face. A blond child chased her and tapped her on her shoulder before taking off the opposite way.
"That is Malfoy's boy, right?" Harry quizzed and glanced around the park himself—if they were there, obviously the unlikely couple would not be far away. Emeralds skimmed over a head of long blond hair tied back, the man sat on the top of the picnic table, a head of wild nutmeg curls sat next to him on the bench portion. He gestured to the two sitting a few yards away to the left of the park. "There's 'Mione and Malfoy."
"Well, let's go say 'hi,'" Anita suggested, she had already pushed off the suddenly nervous man behind her. Ron took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck, an apprehensive expression making a home on his face. This wasn't actually happening. His—girlfriend didn't actually propose they go and greet his wife, who she had yet to meet.
"Y-yeah, sure, dear," he murmured and let the witch snag up his hand and lead him towards the two. The towering marshmallow glanced at Harry, silently asking him for help. Harry merely smirked and followed after the two.
"Oh, yeah, 'Mione would love to meet you," the emerald eyed traitor quietly sniggered behind them and grinned at the dirty look Ron shot him. His best mate was being overly worried. Their friend wasn't going to make a scene, and the red-head knew that very well. Anita led them over to the table they sat at, a bag with food was next to the blond, their friend was working on removing different containers from the bag as the two spoke—or rather bickered.
"All I'm saying, you little minx," Malfoy playfully jibed, flicking his pretty companion in the nose while he held her son close, "is that the sod better not get too frisky. I know Oliver Blake, the dithering ponce. He lets his prick decide policies, and he is not too proud to attempt to sway you."
"It sounds as if you are a mite bit nervous that I will find an interest in Oliver Blake, Draco," Hermione cheekily noted aloud as she swiped her finger over the whipped topping on a small cake and put it up to Hugo's lips. The blond scoffed with a roll of his eyes, his hand snagging hers before it could retreat while his head lowered.
"Oh, how right you are, little witch," he lowly murmured before he kissed her wrist. The simple tender act made standing near them somewhat awkward. "You're bleeding gorgeous, Dea—I assume every wizard, and witch is aiming to make you theirs. However, with Blake, I know exactly what his intentions are, and the pervy wanker can keep his sodding hands off of you."
"I wholly agree," Ron piped in, coming around the table with Anita's hand in his. Draco glanced up from his spot, his body paused in sitting upright from leaning into her. Greys double took as they slid from the weasel to the Indian woman next to him, hands interlocked. A sudden drop in his chest had him realizing his witch also noticed their entrance. "Why would him having his hands on her be a possibility in the first place, Malfoy?"
"Hello, Weasley," the blond nodded, his eyes sliding past the witch to Potter, "Potter. Granger has promised to dance with him at the Gala."
"Bullshite to that," the red-head lightly laughed, a grin forming on his face, which earned him a dirty look from the brunette sitting at the table, an expression he has seen many a moon.
"The two of you need to mind your language," Hermione scolded the couple of overprotective wizards, eyes darting to Harry with a cocked brow. "Well, do you have a comment on the matter, Harry? Better get it out now."
" No, no, not at all," the raven-haired man quickly assured before clearing his voice, "except, I sort of agree."
"It is just one measly dance," she heavily sighed. The witch shook her head and popped a blackberry in her mouth. Draco shrugged with a smug smirk, he was actually happy to see the weasel, for once.
"Sorry, sweetheart," came out in a rather satisfied tone, a hand had caught her chin before gesturing between the three of the wizard's present, tiny wizards not included, "three against one."
" Well," Hermione bristled as she stood to her feet, gently retrieving Hugo from Draco's arms. The wizard blinked, watching her form retreating from him, silently praying he hadn't pushed her too far and she wasn't especially roiled towards him now. The brunette handed her babe to the woman she had yet to be introduced to. "Hello, I'm Hermione, you must be Anita. Hold Hugo, please."
" Oh, yes," the other witch quietly agreed and accepted the role from the rather abrasive woman now standing, "I can do that."
"Ten points," the brunette challenged, her brows arching as she whipped around towards the blond, her hands resting in her sides. Draco stopped his lips from breaking into a wide grin.
"I'm not doing this right now, witch" he told her, simply denying the ridiculous request. Greys were set on her, observing every one of her movements as he normally did, her smaller hand in particular as it reached out and landed on his shoulder. Her smaller digits gently brushed down his clavicle and tightly gripped at his collar.
"You are going to do as I request, yes, Malfoy?" Draco silently cursed, an agitated sigh puffing past his lips, she knew damned well he wasn't going to deny her. His head tilted with an arched brow before he lazily slid off the table and stood to peer down at the little witch still latched onto his tee.
"Of course, ma'am." A hand went to his hair to release his locks and tie them back a bit tighter. His feet lethargically took a few steps away from the picnic tables to a clearer area. "What are the stipulations, Dea?"
"Majority in my favor, and I continue on with my plans," Hermione presented with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Majority in mine," he gestured to himself, "and you drop him."
" Deal," the witch was tying her hair back as he smirked, his hands in his pockets.
"Keep an eye on the kids, Potter," Draco requested, the toes of one of his feet were edging under a branch that had been lying on the ground, a plan he had formulated before he'd wandered over to the clearing. With the witch's hands still working on her hair, the wizard kicked the piece of wood up and swiftly spun to send the branch flying towards her. A cross look spread over her features after she stood upright from gasping and ducking before the large stick could smash into her face.
" Oh, you absolute ar—" the witch gritted out before she was abruptly cut off.
" Language, sweetheart," the blond arrogantly reminded her, a smirk on his lips. Harry scoffed at the notion that Hermione, of all people, was being scolded, and in such a pompous way.
"Ferret's pretty brave," Ron snorted.
"Or stupid," Harry offered instead.
"Maybe if you didn't play dirty, prat," she spat out within a glare as her arms crossed, blocking a full force frontal kick he was directing towards her chest. Even though her footing was correct, she still felt the power from the assault about to send her backwards, he still had so much more strength than her. Instead of letting it send her flying, the witch manipulated the momentum to her favor, letting it help her drop and roll away from him and pop back up to her feet. Draco's long strides made that work around mean absolutely nothing as he was already back to pressuring her with an onslaught of palm strikes that weren't even at his full speed. Hermione's foot jammed into the inside of his right ankle and swiftly kicked back to hook around his left and send him tumbling to the ground with a couple rapid palm strikes to his stomach and chest.
Draco was actually rather impressed with that move, it wasn't something he'd taught her. The witch pivoted above him as he fell, her knee landing on a section of ribs as she fired off a few punches towards his face. He caught a couple—with his jaw and cheek before he snatched her forearms, preventing her from landing a blow on his temple and earning a point. The blond pulled her arms upward, making her lose her balance and thud on top of him. A tch left her lips as she scowled when he smirked with a cocked brow and winked at her, all the while the wizard was silently telling her, there is a way to get out of this before I flip you, Dea .
"No? Okay, then," Draco muttered after a few moments. His left foot kicked off the ground, giving him the leverage to begin flipping her. However, with the way she had been laying on top of him, on her side, the shifty witch kicked off him and launched herself out from under him as he landed. With her arms still in his grasp, the small woman rolled around him, positioning herself to be able to stomp her heel into either the bridge of his nose or smash it down onto his temple. "Bloody hell, that's a point, Dea."
"You're going easy on me," Hermione huffed out as she accepted his hand to stand back up. "Your strikes weren't nearly as fast as they normally are when you train."
"Of course, not, witch," Draco scoffed with a roll of his greys. It was true he had been going easy on her, but if she continued training the way she did, it wouldn't be before long she was keeping up with him. "I'm not trying to kill you—just maim or seriously injure. One point goes to you, sweetheart, and nine are about to go to me. No complaining, you asked for it."
With that, the blond man stepped forward, his left arm lashing towards her face with a speed that she barely followed. His right palm had landed a successful hit on her stomach once her hands sprang up to stop his left from making contact with her face. Draco's left leg tripped up her balance, making her crash to the ground. When she landed, all he had to do was heel kick her in the nose, or temple. The wizard stepped back, letting the witch heave out a frustrated sigh.
"My point," he needlessly announced as she rolled over and pushed herself up. " That is why I hold back. Let's do that first bit again."
"We're supposed to be having a match," Hermione groaned, the irksome wizard stepping back to stand in front of her, " not training."
"I'm always training you, Dea," he countered and waited for her to ready herself in the correct stance. His arm raised as it did before, at a much more readable pace. "To counter this, use only one arm, otherwise you leave yourself open for an attack from the other hand. I know that is rather difficult, since you're not very physically strong. You'll have to make up for it in speed—throw away your opponent's arm, be weary of the second, remember.
"Now, I came for the stomach and the best way to deflect that is," Draco began as he moved his right hand back to her stomach.
"To manipulate it downward and away from the body to increase the time it has to reach back up," the witch finished with a nod, understanding where he was going with the instructions.
"Correct, and how could you earn a point after those deflections?" He quizzed, letting his arms stay as they were. His greys observed her pivot, her elbow prepared to ram into his chest and her forearm raised so the heel of her hand could jut upwards into his nose. To his surprise, she spun farther, her left hand stopping his arm from reaching her again and then spinning to dance out of his reach. "Excellently done.
"Mia Dea, Potter, you call that keeping an eye on the children?" Draco inquired after he glanced over the playground to spot their kids. Rosie was standing atop the bars of the turnabout that was spinning rather fast. The blond sighed and nodded his head towards the littles as he rolled his eyes at Potter and shifted them to his witch's husband. "Weasley, Rosie just fell off the turnabout."
" What?" Hermione gasped out, whipping around to search for her little girl. Ron was already jogging over to collect the tot from the ground and look her over. It seemed she had a few scrapes on her knees and shins, and a gouge on her forearm.
"Look, she's not even crying, you'll just spook her into being upset," Draco pointed out, gesturing towards the little girl that was now being carried over to the table to be cleaned up. He took a seat next to her on the bench and raised his brows at her. "Listen here, you little lioness in waiting, no more climbing on things you can't keep your balance on. You know how easy it is to make your mummy worry, Rosebud."
"'m sorry," Rose pouted as the wizard cleaned her wounds up. The blond gave the little girl a small smile and flicked her nose.
"Just be careful from now on, sweetheart," he told her before sending her off to play again, double taking once his greys caught sight if his own runt being a little terror by balancing across the beam on top of the swings. "Sweet Salazar, I'll be back."
"Scorp is always being a little handful for him—serves the cocky git right," Hermione chittered, a grin growing on her face as she continued to set up their lunch. The nutmeg brunette noticed Anita take a seat on the bench across the table, Hugo nestled in her arms. "So, Anita, Ron said you have littles of your own?"
"Yes, Alan, who is playing with Rosie and the other children, and my littlest, Emma," she answered with a carefree smile.
"Awe, you don't have your daughter with you today?" Hermione questioned, eyes flitting to her husband who was sitting on the table across from his—girlfriend? A slight drop in her chest had her mentally shaking her head. She had no place judging either of them, not after the night she and Draco had together.
"Emmy's at her father's," Ron interjected, leaning over and snagging a kiwi slice from a container she'd just opened. The brunette shooed his hand away, her other hand had inconspicuously cast a silent Silencio over him, smirking as he spoke to whine at her.
"What was that, Ron?" Harry chuckled, grinning at the little prank. Ron cast him a scowl and a crude hand gesture before breaking the little witch's charm.
"Ha, ha, very funny, 'Mione." The giant red-haired man rolled his eyes. "I think you've been spending too much time with the ferret."
"Fine," Hermione pitched, crossing her arms and looking away from him, "I guess I'll go back to being the over-worked, uptight, swot who has no fun."
"I rather like how playful you are now, swot," lazily slipped from the wizard who was returning from chasing after his son. He sent Hermione one of his charming smirks, making her relax once more before she set back to her task. Draco's greys slid past his little witch, landing on Weasley's. "So, would you all like to join us for lunch? There is more than enough, and as this isn't any sort of special occasion, no one would be imposing."
A satisfying flutter of shock that settled into a content gratitude nestled itself in his chest. He glanced at the brunette who was attempting to school a pleased smile as she started small plates for the children. Yes, he was more than happy to keep this feeling about her, she deserved it. Draco reached over and brushed a few locks behind her ear, garnering her attention. He tilted his head towards the visitors and quirked a brow.
"That's all right, Dea?" He asked aloud, just for pretenses. Her eyes roved over her husband, his whatever she was, and Harry and smiled.
"Yes, that is perfectly fine," she agreed, slipping another blackberry into her mouth. Hermione gestured towards the food. "Want to join us?"
"Yeah, sure, 'Mione," Ron accepted their invitation, giving her a small smile, silently thanking her for making things more inviting. He was simply ignoring the fact that Malfoy was the one that originally extended the invitation.
"Scorp," Draco called over to the boy that was being good and balancing on things that were more on his level. The little blond looked up, yelling back 'what?' "Gather the other kids up and come eat, runt."
Lunch was a bit awkward at first, but Harry made it a point to keep the topics light. Quidditch was a subject, of course—when isn't it? Hermione found that Anita was going to school for psychology. Her goal was to be a therapist in her rehabilitation program, which, of course, pleased the brunette witch to hear. It seemed Ron had a type, whether he thought so or not.
Before Hermione knew what was happening, the five of them and the children were retreating to her, and Ron's house. The kids loudly filed outside to play in the backyard while Hermione was putting on a kettle, wondering how they ended up home. It wasn't hard to get along with the woman Ron was seeing, it was actually quite easy. It was just more astonishing that the wizards were getting on. The witch looked on in suspicion, watching as Draco silently sat while Harry and Ron discussed some random statistics for a team, comparing them to Ginny's Harpys.
"What do you do for work to help you get through school, Anita?" Hermione curiously questioned, missing the quick glances Ron and Draco shared while she was pouring the steaming water into her teapot to steep. Anita answered without a care.
"I'm a waitress, and sometimes dancer at Wicked Witches," the raven-haired woman said simply as she situated herself in a chair at the dining room table. Ron noticed his wife's face contorted into a sour expression and before he could jump in to say something, Malfoy held his hand out to him to silence him.
" Tsk, some women just have all the confidence," Hermione scoffed, her lips pulling to the side with a sigh. Her eyes glanced over the witch, noting her rather, although petit, athletic build and shook her head. "Though, of course, you do, look at you."
"Oh, stop," Anita demurred, averting her eyes down to the innocent Hugo. "I'm nothing special. I find it amazing that you are able to move the way you do while you trained earlier."
" Tch, we were supposed to be having a match, not training," the brunette looked pointedly at the blond sitting next to her. He merely smirked.
"We'll call it a tie," Draco offered lowly, fighting the smile that was trying to ebb to the surface. "We can play a game of Scrabble to break it."
"Oh, you slithering snake," Hermione chittered with a grin and a shake of her head. The fool had no intentions of continuing with her match, he had just been amusing her before.
"Swotty priss," the blond quipped, dodging her hand as she went to swat his arm. The witch giggled, taking a seat after pouring everyone a cup.
"So, I have a proposal, Anita, and you can absolutely deny it, should you want," the brunette hostess began, resting her chin on her knuckles as she looked her over. The pretty Indian witch quirked a well groomed brow and cocked her head.
"What would that be?" She ventured, a pitched inclination rising in her lovely diction. Hermione fought the grin, only allowing for a soft schooled smile.
"How about I teach you what Draco has been showing me," she started, her free hand idly gesturing to the wizard next to her, "teaching others helps your own learning by leagues, you know?"
"Yes, it does," the woman agreed, her small smile turned into something cheekier. "What would you be getting out of it?"
"I like her," Hermione stated rather openly, delicately taking a sip from her teacup. The action reminded Draco of his mother—the way she spoke in such a matter of fact manner while a soft prim smile play on her features, a brow lightly quirking. She studiously sat, held her saucer and cup primly with the rim just barely resting on her lower lip. He found himself fixated on her lips and tore his eyes from her as she spoke again. "Perhaps, in exchange, you could teach me what you're able to do."
A sputtering cough caught in Draco's throat, a bit of the hot liquid burning his esophagus as he cleared it. The wizard knew he heard the hint of a mischievous lilt. I should have known Dea would be up to something , Draco inwardly groaned. He wouldn't complain if she planned to pick up such a talent, however, it had been quite the stunner. The Slytherin green bodice she had on the night before paired with a provocative dance went flashing through his mind.
"You all right there, Malfoy?" Harry snickered, a cocky grin plastered on his face. While his best friend was all right with the git, it was still satisfying to see him squirm. The blond shot him a scowl before lightly clearing his throat once more.
"Yes, just fine, thank you, Potter," he calmly returned, refusing to look at the witch that was sending a pulse if amusement beating through him. Cheeky little witch. "I see you're upset with me, Dea."
"D'où vous vient cette impression, mon petit fanatique?" The bookworm sweetly inquired as she stood, her brow peaking delicately.
"Le fait que vous avez essayé de me tuer, Déesse," Draco coolly provided, clearing his throat once more. Hermione rolled her hazels at his claim that she just tried murdering him.
"Ne sois pas dramatique, chéri," she lightly scolded the blond, her hand waving in dismissal, leaving the room to use the loo. The thought of learning such a—skill set, was actually quite unnerving. She had once had the idea of attending a boudoir session, however, the witch just couldn't push past her shyness. It was certainly an alluring notion.
"So, is this awkward at all to anyone?" Anita questioned, phasing past the two's conversation, her head lightly titling while eyeing the wizards in the room. It was abundantly clear there was an underlying animosity between the three. However, despite that, she has been rather impressed with how mature this little group has been regarding this situation. Her turquoise orbs slid to her beau, a small smile meeting him, prompting the giant red-haired man to heavily sigh, allowing his head to lull back, hand gently setting his tea cup down, lest his wife send a flock of birds towards him from shattering it—again.
"I mean, it is a bit awkward," Ron mumbled with a shrug, "I won't lie. She and I have been married for six or seven years."
"Seven," Draco corrected the sloth, "nearly eight. It was a year before you left the Corp."
"I don't even want to know why or how you know that," Ron tersely remarked. The ferret was far too obsessed with Hermione. The blond merely nodded.
"Fair enough," was his reply, annoying Ron to no end. Greys darted to the corridor Hermione had disappeared down, a sudden sense of thick fear crept through him, making his heart race and his stomach churn. Draco abruptly stood, chair scraping behind him, before he calmly made his way to the corridor. "Dea, are you all right?"
"I didn't leave this out," Hermione explained in what she hoped was a calm tone when Draco walked into her study followed by Harry, but she suspected it wasn't. The blond noticed a thick folder sitting out on her desk, parchment strewn all over the surface. "Draco, I pu-put that way the night before last, right before I called you. I came home and found it on the kitchen counter, but I hadn't worked on my MMFA campaign that day, and I had been gone all day yesterday."
"And you stayed at my place last night. Potter, get the kids to Mrs. Weasley's," the blond needlessly said as the Auror was already reeling back down the corridor. The raven-haired wizard was shocked by the fact someone had gotten in, even with his wards set up.
"Ron, help me take the kids to the Burrow," Harry quickly ordered, rushing through the dining room and out the sliding door to call on their littles. Ron didn't bother asking questions, if Harry was worked up enough to order him about, it must be serious. The towering Weasley scooped Lily and Hugo up, covered their mouths with his palms and pinched their noses before he Disapparated to the Burrow. Harry stopped in the middle of their small field, scanning the yard for the kids, he didn't see them anywhere. Oh, Godric, no, no.
"Albus, Rosie, where've you four gotten off to?" The man cast a Sonorus, amplifying his voice.
"You okay, dad?" Albus' voice called over from the left, near the little pond, his boy emerging from the hedges. A rush of air forced its way from his lungs before he was calmly Apparating where they were.
"I'm fine, but we are going to Nan's," Harry said, ruffling Albus' hair before gesturing towards the house. "Come on, kiddos."
"No one," Draco carefully stated, being sure to Occlude before he spoke. His eyes tracked the room, there was nothing out of place—according to Hermione, other than her files. "While you popped out, I cast a tracking charm, scanned for auras, and even put to use Edwin's sonar tech. There is no evidence anyone has been here, yet…"
"It is obviously a power play," Harry nodded, "letting her know they can get to her, even behind my wards."
"Will this motivate the Ministry enough to treat her case with some sort of urgency, is it enough evidence that stalkers are actively assaulting her, terrorizing her?" The blond bit out rather harshly, glad Hermione wasn't there to see him so worked up.
"I understand you're upset, Malfoy," the Auror began, a hand dragging down his face in frustration. "She is my best friend, my sister, I get that this is a lot."
"I'm sodding terrified, Potter," the blond snapped, an unsettling static prickling across his skin, making him feel sick to his stomach. "You've no idea the panic she constantly feels, she hides what is going on in her head impeccably, but she is always feeling a sense of alarm. She has been through enough."
"Yes, I know," Harry sighed, tearing his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. The wizard sat in the lounge chair in the study, a thumb going to his lips as he thought. "Maybe I can get the Ministry to offer Minister Potentials details, and I'll be sure to thoroughly check hers. Mind you, that is only if I can get them to agree. The Corp is already extremely pressed for personnel as it is dealing with cases in the Southeastern areas—there have been multiple reports of attacks."
"Do they seem to coincide with her incidents?" Draco stopped his lazy pacing, glancing at the Auror.
"Currently, no," came Potter's reply, both relaxing and irritating him. "If it starts to seem that way, I'll let you know. I haven't just been doing nothing, though, Malfoy. I've been investigating this as much as possible."
"Yeah," Draco sighed, letting eyes raise to the ceiling as a hand fell to his side, "right."
"It is alarming how you're able to do that," Harry commented, witnessing how the blond wizard went from angry and frustrated to passive and indifferent within a moment's breath. He tried his hand at Occlumency once before, it just wasn't his forte. To just cut off all of your emotion like that, it took a massive amount of mental fortitude and his mind was everywhere at once all day, everyday.
"I had the best mentors and the need to learn it," the blond drawled. He gestured towards the study's door, muttering, "I'm going to go collect my son and meet up with my Dea."
"That is quite the proclamation," Potter repeated what one of his brother-in-laws stated the night before.
"But every bit true," he disclosed, simply Apparating away.