All of Harry Potter and anything related to it are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

(Each title is derived from a song that, I believe, complements the overall narrative, if not the individual chapter.)

Somewhere on the edge of London, July 1997

Hermione's Point of View

It was after two AM, and Draco walked around what was left of my bedroom after Jomny had started to pack it all away today. My parents had done a vigilant job of keeping an eye on us until they had finally fallen asleep about ten minutes ago, with a little extra help from Jomny. He had then popped Draco in here, where he had woken me up.

"Are you going to tell me anything that happened today?" I asked with frustration, and he gave me a grin as he picked up a Rubik's Cube that had been found and was in the donate pile. He looked at it quizzically and then put it back down. He had already silenced and locked the room, but he seemed to want to see everything that was left of the remnants of my childhood. "What did my dad say to you? What happened at the hospital?" I asked, hoping for some answers.

He moved over to a standing full-length mirror, picked it up, and moved it to the end of the bed. He then came over to sit next to me, pulled his notebook from his pocket, and started to write.

'That female healer said I have something called an inflamed larynx. I don't know what that is exactly, but that's why I am unable to talk. She wanted to stick me with a big needle, but thankfully your mother talked her out of it', I read as he wrote.

"You have an infection in your voice box?" I asked with a frown. He gave a nod. "She wanted to give you antibiotics?" I asked.

'I didn't catch what it was called except the delivery method looked barbaric,' he wrote. I frowned. Infections were bad and rare in magicals.

"Snape said that the curse on that knife was resistant to potions," I reminded him. He sighed.

'Hermione, I'm aware you are angry at…'

"Stop!" I said, slapping my hand down over his writing and shaking my head. I looked into his eyes, and I could feel the pleading in them. "I need to be angry at somebody, Draco. Please let it be him." He studied my face for a moment and then nodded resignedly.

"Will you tell me what you and my dad spoke about?" I asked again, and he gave another amused grin at me.

'I don't believe you would like it,' he wrote.

"Why? What happened?" I asked suspiciously.

'He loves you, Hermione. He just wants you to be safe and happy,' he explained.

"He didn't demand you marry me or something, did he?" I asked, and he grinned again. "Please tell me you are joking," I said, and he shook his head.

'It wasn't quite as bad as that. He wanted to know if I had an intention of marrying you. I said yes', he wrote, and my eyes widened even though, thanks to my journal, I knew we had spoken of that when we found out I was pregnant. Speaking to my father about it seemed to make it so much more real than saying you would marry someone when you don't really think there is a possibility of it. 'He also wanted to make it clear that he would never let me stand in the way of your ambitions. He is very proud of you and wants you to have everything you have ever dared to dream of having.'

I stared at the words, and a couple tears fell. I had felt for months now that my dad had lost all faith in me. That he was incredibly disappointed in my carelessness and my recklessness. Seeing that he still believed in me healed a part of me I hadn't known was hurt until just this second. Draco leaned forward, kissed my forehead, and then wiped the tears away with his thumbs. He then went back to his writing.

'He also said I couldn't touch you again until we are married.' My mouth dropped open at the absurdity of that statement. Draco grinned at my expression and pushed my mouth closed with a finger. Then more writing. 'Then he posed the most peculiar query. He inquired if we were already married.'

"Huh," I said as I read the words and then thought about that day at the train station and frowned. "Pro…Ah… Snape told my parents we were when he first brought you to them," I told him. Draco frowned then, and I could see he was searching his memories.

'I promise you, I didn't perform the handfasting ritual, which is all I had been able to think about when we first found out about little Drake. However, I was also aware that everyone at Malfoy Manor would have known, and it wouldn't have been safe. Bells ring through the wards for all kinds of occasions, and marriage is an important one,' he wrote, and then he thought again. He then looked at me strangely before starting to write again.

'That night at Malfoy Manor. He killed my father,' he wrote, and then stopped to close his eyes. I moved closer and put my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. I hated that he was in so much pain. I felt him start writing again, but I continued to hold him until he tapped my arm. I looked down and read, 'The bell tolled to announce a new Lord Malfoy; soon after, it tolled for a new Lady. It shouldn't have been possible.' I looked at him, not understanding what it meant.

"Does that mean we are married?" I asked with a nervous swallow. He shook his head and shrugged at the same time.

'I want to be married to you,' he wrote.

"Even knowing I am going to be leaving?" I whispered, feeling guilty. He studied my face again and looked sad. He put the notebook down, took my face between his hands, and kissed me softly.

'Even then', he mouthed at me.

"I would love to marry you, Draco Malfoy," I told him, and he grinned the biggest smile I think I had ever seen. He then kissed me hard, even as he laughed in happiness.

'I have the best idea', he wrote quickly when he had his notebook back in his hand, the smile never falling.

"What is that?" I asked, happy to see him so happy.

'Mirror sex', he wrote, and I frowned again, looking at him quizzically. He then pointed at the mirror, and I shook my head.

"Obviously, you had this idea quite a while ago," I said resignedly, and he grinned unrepented. "I love it when you smile," I told him honestly, taking his face in my hands this time so I could really look at him. He looked so beautiful to me, with his grey eyes sparking with happiness, that it just needed to be said. He gave me a quick kiss in thanks.

'This is going to be great. When I tap your arm, I want you to lean up and look in the mirror. I want you to see what I love seeing.' I blushed.

"I don't know if I'll be able," I said shyly.

'Just try. For me,' he wrote. I rolled my eyes but laughed a little too. I didn't want to say no to him, especially when he was like this. He flung his notebook and pencil carelessly onto the floor and then turned to pull my nightgown off. I had to lift my butt so he could slide my knickers down my legs, and he smiled at me again.

"You certainly are happy tonight," I quipped, and he silently laughed. I watched as he undressed and knew he liked that as much as I did, even as I cast the Contraception Charm. He cast his own and then stalked over to where I was with passion hot in his eyes, and he kissed me deeply, making me sigh into his mouth. The breeze was a little cooler tonight, and the air blowing in my window made me shiver. He bent down and licked my nipples and blew warm air on them, and then the cool air dried and hardened them more, and I moaned a little at the surprising sensation.

I tried to reach for him, but he shook his head and held my hands away. I frowned but was distracted as he touched me below with his fingers, and I whimpered a bit as he brushed over me in a gentle caress. He smiled at me as if I had done something impressive by being wet and ready for him.

He then urged me to sit up, and he climbed in behind me. I frowned at him over my shoulder, but he wasn't concerned, just kissed my neck, and then laid back against my pillows. I could feel him hard against my backside, and that just made me wetter. He pointed up, so I assumed he wanted me to kneel up. When I did, he put his legs through mine and then wriggled down a bit until his penis was touching the entrance to my vagina. I hissed in a breath at the contact on the sensitive spot and almost fell forward. He held me up with his hands, holding my hips, and then encouraged me to sit, even as he pushed up. I let out a breathy sound as he filled me, and my eyes closed. He still stretched me so wide that it took a moment to get used to the feeling. When I could open my eyes again, I tried to look back at him, not understanding what he wanted, but he took my shoulders and gently pulled me back against him.

It was a strange way to lay, and more so when he spread his legs too. I was open and exposed to the whole room, and the cool breeze was touching me in places it had never touched me before. He tentatively lifted his bottom to make sure he could move, and I could feel him more towards the front wall of me than usual, and that was also a new sensation that had me whimper in pleasure. He tapped my arm, and I remembered what he had said. I swallowed nervously and then struggled to lean up, but he helped with a hand flat against my back.

"By Merlin, I look huge!" I exclaimed when I saw my belly, and I felt him laugh underneath me, which had him bouncing a little, and finally my eyes dropped to where we were joined. "Oh," I said as my eyes widened, and then he was moving slowly, and I said, "Oh Merlin," at the sight. He didn't laugh at that; just gripped a hip tightly while his other hand remained pressed against my back, and I leveraged myself on my arms so I could watch his penis slide in and out of me repeatedly.

I was shaking in arousal and couldn't help feeling like a pervert for loving the sight so much. My muscles started spasming in orgasm, and I couldn't hold my weight up anymore. Didn't matter; the image was burned into my mind, and when I laid back down on his chest, Draco moved his hands up to my breasts and really picked up speed. My orgasm just kept going and going, and I was screaming in pleasure until I was losing my voice. He continued to pound into me, and still I knew what it looked like, and because of that mental image, my orgasm wouldn't stop. It wasn't until after he came that mine backed off.

My heart was pumping so hard, and I was breathing as if I had just run around the block. I wanted to be able to get off him; sure, I was crushing him, but he just held me to him. After a few minutes, he rolled us and slipped out of me. I rolled to face him and said, "Your ideas are dangerous." He laughed and kissed me again.

'I love you,' he mouthed.

"Doesn't change the facts," I told him. My heart still hadn't settled down.

'Don't you love me?' He asked in mock hurt, and I frowned at him.

"I'll get back to you when I'm sure I'm not having a heart attack." That made him laugh silently again and pull me back into a hug. "I suppose you are loveable," I told his chest. He kissed the top of my head, and he was still amused.

Draco's Point of View

I did my best to ignore her parents as they moved around the house, attempting to behave as if they weren't keeping an eye on us even as they packed. 'Surely, they didn't presume I was going to ravish her right here on the table,' I mused and then chuckled internally because I was certain I would if given the chance. But honestly, her parents were going overboard.

I had explained in detailed notes about Occlumency and told her how it was a practice that needed a lifelong commitment to mediation and self-discipline and how hard it was to achieve. Still, she was interested and promised to allow me to help her with some exercises.

Later, I pointed the Fidelius Charm out to her in her notebook, and she had spent over an hour now telling me how it was supposed to work, what the requirements and risks were, and how it could be used. It was riveting, and I believed it was even more so because of the teacher and the passion she brought to all she was enthusiastic about. She is brilliant and beautiful, and I had trouble keeping my eyes off her.

I was still armed with my notebook, but I was beginning to produce a bit of sound in my throat now, indicating my condition was improving. While I had to continue to take Pain-Relief Potions for my neck, I refused to dwell on the injury. However, it was damned frustrating not to be able to communicate properly.

I'd shown her the soul magic book I had found in the Room of Requirement, but she didn't appear as thrilled with it as I had hoped. I had spent days going through as many dark magic books as I could come across in the RoR when I finally spotted this. I had just discovered a spell I thought could help her when she found me that day.

I was writing notes on the Fidelius Charm even as she spoke, and when I glanced up, she smiled at me, her eyes bright and her lips a soft, kissable pink. Her parents weren't around, so I snuck a quick kiss that those lips beckoned for. She laughed and then went back to her notes, brushing a curl behind her ear that had escaped her loosely tied bun. When she had divulged all the knowledge she possessed about the charm, I took her book and pointed to the Obliviation Charm.

What wasn't widely known was that the charm had been created by an ancestor of mine. As such, it was part of our family magic, a secret legacy that only we could usually access and use. If she were truly Lady Malfoy now, as the bell toll had suggested, I should be able to share some of our secrets with her.

'I am aware of a counter spell to this, but you must promise not to teach anyone else. It is part of my family magic,' I explained.

She regarded me with a blend of curiosity and uncertainty. "Are you even allowed to tell me?" she queried in a gentle tone. I had explained a little about family magic, but it was hard to convey the depth and complexity of it to people who don't have their own.

'It feels like I can.' I wrote.

"Alright," she said, but she was still frowning. I held out my hand for her notebook and perused the pages. I picked up my pencil again and wrote the counter spell below her original notes. She watched as I wrote, so obviously magic really did recognised her as a Malfoy now. I was curious what she would make of that, but refrained from inquiring at that moment.

'And then you give a twist of your hand on the downward motion,' I wrote after another of her clarifying questions. Her father was leaning against the table, observing what we were doing, even as he savoured a cup of coffee.

"Obliviation," he read out loud, and then turned to Hermione with curiosity in his eyes. "What is that? Like some kind of charm to confuse people or something. Like, maybe they won't notice something that's right in front of them."

"Yes, something like that," she lied easily, and I was surprised by how well she pulled it off. Our eyes met briefly before she averted her gaze. I glanced back down at the page and frowned. I was aware that I had brought it up, but I had hoped she didn't think she would need it now. Didn't she realise I wanted us to be together? That I intended on waiting for her and watching over Aiden. I hoped she wasn't still planning on giving him away. I hated that I had ever even suggested that to her. I rose from my chair with a measured grace, aware of her eyes on me, clouded with concern. I moved away, and Daniel Granger sat in my place, gaining her attention so he could pose additional questions.

I went up to her room and searched for her bag. I was frustrated that I couldn't summon Jomny for his help. The door opened, and Emma Granger regarded me with curiosity.

"Can I help you with something, Draco?" She inquired, her gaze filled with curiosity and kindness. I couldn't fathom how she always did it. If I had a stranger in my home and found them searching a room, I would have been livid and insulted.

'Hermione's bag,' I wrote in my notebook and showed her.

"I don't know where it is; I'm sorry," she said. I ran my hand through my hair, feeling frustrated.

Then I wrote,'Jomny.'

"Jomny?" she repeated, sounding puzzled. Then she jumped with a squeak when he popped into the room, wearing a clean green tea towel as a makeshift robe that I noticed now was missing the discreet Malfoy crest that used to sit on a bottom corner.

"Yes, ma'am?" he inquired of her politely, bowing his head.

"Draco would like to ask you about Hermione's bag, I think," she told him, gaining her composure quickly. Jomny turned to me with his big, familiar eyes.

'Adoption papers,' I wrote and showed them both. Mrs. Grangers face softened even as Jomny popped away. He was back in a moment before handing them to me. I went over and sat on Hermione's bed, clutching them in my hand. Mrs. Granger came over and sat beside me, her light brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail at her neck, shining in the light coming from the window. I really wanted to rip them up, but I couldn't with those compassionate green hazel eyes watching me. I cast my gaze downward, despising the fact that my signature was on there. Hermione hadn't signed her part yet.

"I like the name you both chose," she commented. His name was also in my handwriting. Simply Aiden Drake without the Malfoy, and I really wished I had a quill so I could see it how it should be.

'I want to keep him,' I wrote and showed her. She smiled a pleased smile, and it was Hermione's smile on a face that was otherwise different. Hermione more resembled her father, right down to the eyes and hair, but she definitely had her mother's smile.

"Does that mean you are not opposed to Muggles anymore?" she queried, and I reared back a bit at that. I thought I had been perfectly nice to these people, even when I was scared to death of them when I didn't have my memories. "I don't mean to upset you, but…" she stopped and gave a little chuckle. "I remember the first time I saw you." I really was confused now.

"We had taken Hermione to Diagon Alley for her school supplies. I hadn't gone the year before. Daniel went; he is fascinated by the magical world and feels much more comfortable in it than I do," she explained.

I wrote, 'That is understandable if he is a squib.'

"I'm not sure what that is, but that doesn't matter right now. We had been invited to spend the day with a magical family that Hermione had made friends with. She didn't have many friends growing up, so we thought it important to support her," she explained. I frowned. She had told me that herself, but I never quite believed it. "So here we were walking down Diagon Alley, and this blonde boy with a scowl on his face walks along looking as if he owns the world and bumps into Hermione. It looked like an accident, but then he sneered at her and said, 'Watch where you are going mud-blood'."

I blanched and stared at her in horror. I had completely forgotten about that. I was irked that my father was talking estate business when he was supposed to be out with me, and my mother had been unwell that day, so she didn't accompany us. I had stalked off in a tantrum and was going to hide upstairs at Flourish and Blotts, where I could browse through the books and ignore the world. Emma Granger shocked me by pulling me into a sideways hug, appearing indulgent and amused. "Hermione looked close to tears and said, 'He is so mean.' Over the next few years, your name would come up every so often when we would have our girls' nights. 'How can somebody so arrogant be so pretty? Shouldn't there be a law against that sort of thing?' She had complained more than once," and she laughed even as she told me. I truly didn't comprehend what I was expected to infer from all of that.

'I love her,' I wrote, feeling a pit in my stomach at the uncertainty of our future.

"I know, and isn't that amazing from where you both started?" she posed, appearing indulgent once again. "You two have come a long way from the children you were such a short time ago. It goes too fast," she said, and gave a soft, sad smile at that.

'Do you suppose she will let me keep her?' I wrote and then went to scrub it out, but she tapped her finger on the page.

"I think she wants to keep you, so I think that is entirely up to the both of you to decide." She smiled warmly at me. "You don't have to worry about losing her, Draco. She loves you too."

'And our son?' I wrote, and she sighed at that.

"She is keeping secrets from us, and we don't completely understand why, but I really hope so," she said, her gaze filled with concern and compassion. "But Daniel and I have already decided that we will not take him from you, Draco. No matter what she is hiding, you will always be your son's father," she promised. She reached out and squeezed my hand. "And we will always be your family."

'Thank you,' I mouthed, touched by her words. It was disconcerting that Muggles, a demographic I had been indoctrinated to despise on principle, could make me feel so accepted. I put the papers down on the bed, not certain what else to do with them now.

"Come on. Let's go make lunch. Tell me, Draco, have you ever used a microwave?" She queried, pulling me to my feet. I shook my head and allowed her to drag me from the room.

A few hours later, Hermione and I were in the loungeroom watching the Muggle contraption known as a television, where plays were broadcast. I had always liked the atmosphere of the theatre, but being comfortable on a couch with Hermione resting against me was much more appealing than any formal affair would have been right now.

Daniel Granger entered the room shortly after, carrying a tray laden with snacks and drinks, which he set down on the coffee table. He grunted at the sight of our embrace but otherwise said nothing as he sat on a lounge chair and looked towards the play. He appeared to be more interested in the food than the show, as he munched on chips and sipped a beer, but I was aware he was really here to keep an eye on us once more. A few minutes after that, his wife walked in, shook her head at her husband, but then went and sat on the lounge chair next to his, and they sat holding hands on the armrests between them. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear, making him chuckle.

"I love this version of Robin Hood," she commented as she watched the actors in colourful costumes and masks.

"Me too," Hermione murmured, sounding sleepy. She snuggled closer to me, and I wrapped my arms tighter around her, her head resting on my chest. I could feel her heartbeat and smell the soap she had used earlier. I kissed the top of her head and smiled.

"I think he is sexy," Mrs. Granger said a bit further into the movie, obviously meaning the main actor as he wielded his bow and arrow. Hermione snickered while my mouth dropped open.

"Emma!" Her husband exclaimed in a tone of shocked disapproval, but she merely grinned at him unrepentantly. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled back at her, his eyes alive with love and amusement.

I wasn't used to witnessing such open displays of affection from adults who were not my parents, and even then, I was aware my parents' affection was unusual. They never showed it in public; social convention kept it private and intimate. Even allowing me to witness it was not encouraged in the magical world.

However, I decided I liked the casual intimacy; it appeared entirely natural for the Grangers to behave in this manner, and Hermione had told me that Muggles were very affectionate with each other. I decided that in this area, Muggles appeared to be right, even if it still made me feel uncomfortable to witness it. It was like intruding on something sacred and personal. It also made me sad to realise I would never behold my parents like that again. Hermione fell asleep for most of the play but woke only as it was ending.

"I love this song," she whispered, barely awake.

"Me too," her mother agreed, sounding a bit dreamy. I exchanged a glance with Mr. Granger, and he shrugged. Obviously, he didn't understand why they would love such a sad-sounding song either; the sentiment was nice, however.

"Am I interrupting?" Severus suddenly interjected from the doorway, and none of us had noticed him there. That was stupid on my part, but then I saw Jomny by his side and realised it wasn't quite as dire as I thought. At least he was aware we had company.

"Not at all," Mr. Granger said as he got up and went over to shake my godfather's hand. I assumed it was merely a polite gesture. Hermione made a noise of disagreement.

"I see you are finally awake," Sev said to me, his voice low and calm, but his eyes flickered towards Hermione as she struggled to sit up and away from me. She appeared pale and angry, her brown hair tangled from sleep. I nodded and felt stupid for not being able to speak.

"Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Snape?" Mrs. Granger inquired, also being polite.

"No, thank you. I can't stay for long. I just wanted to check on Draco. Are you able to talk at all?" He inquired, casting his glance back at me. I shook my head once more. "Let's go out into the backyard. I have a spell I can try now." I nodded and rose to my feet, then helped Hermione stand. "You are of course welcome to accompany us, Miss Granger," he said, sounding more polite than he ever did.

"Do not talk to me! You don't get to talk to me," Hermione snapped with sudden heat, startling us all except for Severus. She glared at him with hatred and contempt, her eyes flashing with tears. She withdrew her arm from my grip and then walked away, heading for the stairs. Her mother went after her, calling her name softly, while her father merely appeared bewildered. Sev turned to go back outside, his expression unreadable. I took out my notebook as I followed and commenced writing.

'What did you do to her?' I inquired when we came to a stop in the sunshine, and he responded with a raised eyebrow.

"I killed Albus Dumbledore," he said blandly. I felt myself blanch at the memory of that.

'I'm sorry,' I wrote, feeling shamed.

"It was never going to be you, Draco. Neither professor Dumbledore nor I wanted that for you," he told me.

'I can't fathom why he would have cared,' I wrote with real puzzlement, unable to comprehend the old wizard's motives.

"He was a great wizard, Draco. He saw in people what others refused to see. He believed you could be a better person than your father, than me. He didn't want you to have to take the step that would truly damage your soul," he explained, his voice low and serious. His gaze bore into me with a mix of regret and compassion.

'But it was alright for you?' I wrote in disbelief.

"My soul was damaged long ago," he said with an unconcerned shrug. I didn't believe that casualness for a moment.

'I know you, Sev. You are not always a nice person. I comprehend that because I'm not a nice person, but you are a good one,' I insisted, truly believing that.

He stared at me for a few long moments and then said, "We'll see."

'How is my mother?' I wrote, scared for her. He was silent for a considerable time, pondering his response. He finally shook his head, his expression grim.

"I don't know if she will ever get over losing your father, and she is very scared for you. She has never dared ask me, but I can see her beg me for a way to save you. She doesn't trust that he will let you live if I have to take you back," he explained.

'I don't care about myself as much as I do about Hermione, Aiden, and her. They all come first,' I told him, meaning every word.

"I never knew you possessed such a noble trait. Are you sure the sorting hat didn't offer you Gryffindor?" he queried sarcastically. I merely gave him a bland expression; we were both aware the hat didn't ponder my placement at all. "Now hold still," he said, pulling his wand from his sleeve. He pointed it at my throat and then cast a spell, making a prolonged purple beam shoot into me. I grunted at the feeling of heat, but then felt a loosening and could swallow much easier. "Try to speak. Softly!" he said when I opened my mouth.

"I have a book…" I began and then had to stop.

"Good enough for now," he said, putting his wand away. "I believe it will heal now. Obviously, the curse on the knife wasn't the cause; otherwise, that wouldn't have worked. How is the neck feeling?"

"Tender. Strange," I managed to articulate, grateful I could say anything, even if it was still irritating. He nodded.

"That wound is going to take weeks to heal, and the scar will remain always," he told me. I nodded in acknowledgment. I had been told that already. "You mentioned a book?" he queried.

"Soul magic," I said, then held up a finger for him to wait and raced into the dining room, where I had left it with Hermione's other books. It was a thick tome with a dark cover and a silver lock. Then I brought it back out to him. He accepted it with curiosity and skimmed through a few pages. "This one," I interjected, halting him on a page that detailed a spell to conceal a person from their enemies. He cast his gaze down at it and barely read it before he began to shake his head.

"Won't work," he said bluntly.

"Not me. Hermione," I said, and he still shook his head.

"This spell is all but useless. It is very vague in its interpretation of an enemy. She could have an argument with her family, and then they may never be able to repair the rift. It also doesn't seem to have a counter, which is common to this type of magic." He closed the book and handed it back to me. "If you are truly worried for her safety, work with her on her banishing spells and defensive magic. I know there are spells within your repertoire that you could impart to her," he said with meaning, and I growled in frustration at him.

"Cease looking at me like that!" he snapped, his voice cold and harsh. "I believe I have tolerated quite enough from you in the past year. Including Obliviation," he said, his dark eyes flashing with accusation. Mine widened in shock. "Of course, I knew," he said to the question that was obvious on my face. "I'm not prone to headaches, and I was curious what would drive you to such an extreme. I, at the time, reasoned it had something to do with the Dark Lord, but now I have to assume that it was about Miss Granger," he told me, his voice dripping with heavy disapproval. I went to write something, but he said, "Don't bother. Excuses won't change where we are now."

"Please take the book. There must be something that can help her," I managed to get out, sounding scratchy and harsh. He regarded me for a moment, his expression unreadable. He then gave a sharp nod and tucked it into his robe pocket.

"I must go, but I will try to get back when I can. There is much happening, and my time is becoming increasingly less mine."

"If you can, tell my mother that I love her," I told him. He gave another nod and Disapparated.

Author's notes: - In my original copy of this chapter Draco's handwriting is a beautiful, old-fashioned cursive script.

Rkook1210: - Thank you for your continued support. It means a lot to me.

Kukuhimanpr: - Thank you for your comments, they are highly entertaining even if I don't comprehend the meaning of them.