Draco fell backward onto the bed and grinned up at the ceiling. After the hell of the past two weeks, a good shag was exactly what he needed. The tension in his muscles was gone, and the foggy future he planned for himself and Hermione was much more clear. He heard the zip of Hermione's skirt come together and his heart jumped against his insides, as he was still coming down from the high. He pushed himself up on his elbows and said,

"We've got thirty-five minutes and I think you should spend thirty-four of them on top of me."

Hermione turned to face him and asked, "What shall I use the spare minute for?"

"To touch up your lipstick after I've snogged you senseless."

She stood in front of him and leaned in, so close their lips nearly touched. She whispered,

"Is that a promise, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Merely a request, Ms. Granger."

"I have a request of my own." Hermione leaned in for a slow, gentle kiss. Even after such a delightful shag, Draco was lost in the simplest bits of her. Hermione Granger could make his head spin with little more than a touch. "You told me in hospital that you would be there to catch all the things I let fall away."

"I did."

"I want nothing to do with my flat. I don't wish to return to it ever again, I don't wish to return to Battersea; it has Colin all over it."

Draco nodded and said, "I know, I understand."

"You buy and sell buildings."

"I have people for that, but yes, I do."

"I want you to sell my flat, I want you to buy a new home for us, and I don't wish to know about any of it."

"I want to show you a home before I purchase it."

"Why?" Hermione insisted, "I trust you. This is a Malfoy home; purchase what you want and I will make myself at home in it. As long as there is room for my books and a nice tub to soak in, I don't much care about the rest."

"It's not a Malfoy home, Hermione. It's our home."

She placed her hand on the nape of his neck and threaded her fingers in his hair. Hermione looked him in the eyes and asked, "Isn't that what you want me to be, a Malfoy?"

"Only if you want to be."

.oOo.

Draco was a bit overwhelmed by dinner. Blaise had put place cards out with everyone's names. Draco was at the end of the table nearest the door, with Hermione to his right and Theo to his left. Tracey was next to her husband; to her left were Mr. Queensbury and Draco's mother. Dean was between Narcissa and Blaise, sitting at the opposite head of the table. To Blaise's left was Bastien, then Padma, then Ginny, then Harry Potter.

Draco hated seeing his mother with Mr. Queensbury. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but Lance was far happier than Draco had ever seen him. His arm was resting lazily on the back of Narcissa's chair like he was laying claim to her space. Knowing the reason for this particular dinner party, it felt like Blaise invited them as his mum and dad. Draco tried to shake that feeling just as Blaise disappeared to retrieve dessert from the kitchen.

"This," Potter said through a mouthful of food, "is incredible."

Dean replied, "Blaise makes his own pasta. You should see the kitchen; he's got three ovens, and you could play football on his countertop it's so bloody massive."

"He's made certain Scorpius has the most sophisticated palette in all of his primary school." Draco teased, "By the time he's twelve, Scorp will be writing for the Michelin guide."

"Perhaps," Blaise said, reappearing with a chocolate cake, "he can wax poetic about my torta caprese." Blaise placed the cake in the centre of the table, but everyone's eyes were drawn to the sparkling diamond which had appeared on his left ring finger. Blaise had finally taken the ring off its chain around his neck and made the engagement official. He stepped toward the head of the table, placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, and said, "I've invited you all here to announce that Dean asked me to marry him and I said yes."

Everyone seemed to take a moment to process the information. Bastien didn't seem surprised, but Tracey squealed and jumped up from her seat. She rushed over to hug Blaise as tight as she could.

"Congratulations! I'm so happy for you. He's perfect." She turned toward Dean and said, "You really are perfect for him." She grabbed Blaise's left hand and said, "Look at this ring! You've got taste, as well. There's nothing I don't love about you." She placed her hand on Blaise's cheek and said, "You waited for the right one, and it was worth every minute."

"Alright, Trace, let me get in here." Theo gripped Blaise in a firm hug. "Congratulations, mate. I'm proud of you, living the life you want to live. Finding the perfect bloke to live it with."

Potter stood from his seat and made for Dean Thomas. The height difference between them was rather humorous, but Potter went in for a hug and Dean squeezed him so tight Draco thought he might burst. Ginny followed, hugging each of them and happily accepting credit for setting them up. Bastien hugged Blaise, Padma hugged Dean, it was a long line of hugs.

Draco didn't believe they would be so excited for his engagement to Hermione. It would be a second marriage for both of them, while this was Blaise's first. Perhaps there was reason to wait for the right one even when it felt like they were impossible to find. Then again, Dean Thomas wouldn't have written books, wouldn't be the man he was without his first marriage.

Once things settled and everyone returned to their chairs, the questions were served up faster than dessert.

"When is the wedding?"

"December 11th at Cipriani in Venice."

"Where are you going for a honeymoon?"

"Dean and I are spending January in Australia."

"Are you cooking for the wedding?"

"No, I want to spend as much time as I can enjoying my wedding, not fussing over it."

Dean added, "You've fussed over it enough."

The table was abuzz with low conversations. Draco felt that Dean was less inclined toward a wedding and would've preferred an elopement. Having been married once before, Draco understood that notion. He hoped Hermione would be content with a simple ceremony because planning a full wedding with a dress and suits and a cake and a venue and on and on and on was hell. Their families were half-intertwined already, what was the purpose in dragging it out? There was one person, however, who seemed less than enthused by the engagement.

"You're rather quiet, dad," said Bastien.

Mr. Queensbury shrugged and replied, "Not a lot to say that hasn't been said."

Draco watched Blaise's face morph into that familiar mask of indifference. He didn't want to care about Mr. Queensbury's approval, didn't want to need it, but he did. Dean Thomas said,

"It seems like you have thoughts to add."

"Mhmm," Mr. Queensbury picked up his glass of wine, "when did you two meet, again?"

"April."

"It's August. Four months is a quick engagement." Mr. Queensbury gestured toward Blaise with his wine glass and asked, "Is he pregnant?"

Theo coughed to cover up a laugh, Draco tried and failed to conceal a smile, and Harry Potter placed a hand over his mouth. Blaise looked rather mortified. Mr. Queensbury shrugged and said,

"I speak from experience."

Then Bastien went quite pale.

"I apologise," said Blaise, "for skipping the mandatory twenty-five years of pining in your rulebook."

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about," replied Mr. Queensbury. He looked to his left and asked, "Cissa?"

"Haven't the faintest," she replied before clinking their wine glasses together.

Draco was uncomfortable with the ill-defined relationship developing between his own mother and Bastien's father. It was something he could handle, something he could process internally. He'd seen his mother in love before and, for better or worse, always had two parents who cared for each other. Bastien never had that luxury. Draco watched as the resentment Bastien had for Blaise somehow commandeering not one, but two parents finally bubbled over.

"I, for one, think Blaise is doing a marvelous job with the Lancelot Queensbury rulebook of love." Bastien offered in a rather condescending tone, "After all, he is quite good mates with Dean's abusive ex. Seems like that's right out of the rulebook word-for-word."

Dean said, "I think 'abusive' is the wrong word—"

"Don't go there," cautioned Ginny.

Hermione's hands tightened around the cutlery.

"Son," Mr. Queensbury said, "if you'd like to have this conversation, I suggest we do it at another time. We're celebrating a milestone for Blaise—"

"Why?!" asked Bastien. "Nobody told me you were coming. Nobody mentioned you'd be here with Draco's mum."

Blaise said, "I invited them because they're my family."

"I am your family. Draco, Theo, we are your family. But that," he pointed to his father, "is my dad, not yours! That is Draco's mum, not yours."

Mr. Queensbury said, "You don't need to make that distinction. Blaise is a good lad who paid for your wedding, mind you, so we are here to celebrate him finding the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. I'm here for him because I care for him, not because I am trying to be his father."

"Right, that's just Draco, now, innit?"

Draco felt guilty Bastien could think such a thing. Padma grabbed her wine glass and downed the contents in one go. Mr. Queensburyglared at Bastien for a long moment then stood from his chair. He nodded toward the doorway and said,

"In the hall, son. Now."

Everyone watched as they left for the foyer. It did little good as they were two very large men whose voices projected far beyond the entry walls. There was a bit of hushed mumbling before,

"I understand that Narcissa sets something off in you—"

"It's not her, dad, it's you. It's me having to watch you with her and watching you in love for the first time in my entire life with a woman I can't fucking stand! I thought that maybe, you know … Maybe there was a point when you loved my mum. There wasn't, was there?"

"Bastien."

"The only person you've ever loved is her? Because I remember when she came 'round, hunting for Draco to drag him back to that fucking house where he was tossed out the front door. I recall you telling her, 'Narcissa, your son deserves a home. You've kept him in a closet, and now it's a prison.' That's the woman you're with. It wasn't you holding him, listening to him beg God to make him normal. He wasn't asking you what to say to his classmates when they asked why his throat was black and blue. You weren't pulling rocks from his hair."

Draco let his head fall into his hands. There was something indescribably sad about hearing Bastien's recollection of that time. He felt every pair of eyes on him and wanted nothing more than to disappear. He'd never seen Bastien angry at his father before, let alone heard him speak to his father this way.

"You don't sound like yourself." Mr. Queensbury asked, "Are you high, son?"

"No, I wanted to celebrate Blaise's engagement. That's my best mate! I love him! But you treat him like a son. You treat Draco like a son, you're shagging his mum, you talk like Scorp is your grandson and where the bloody hell does that leave me, dad? I'm the one with the mum you didn't want to fuck, is that it?"

"You are out of line, Bastien Edward Queensbury."

"Am I?"

"Blaise invited each of us here to celebrate his engagement because he cares for us. This is his day, Bas. Regardless of what you may think of me, and I will never begrudge you your feelings toward Narcissa. She will never begrudge you those feelings herself. However, only one of us is being inconsiderate right now. Only one of us is interrupting this moment, and it's not me or Narcissa. You are better than this."

"I thought you were a good man. I looked up to you, I've looked up to you my entire life. But you've put in more effort for Draco and Blaise than you are for me, now. You didn't do anything for my engagement—"

"You didn't have an engagement party, Bastien. I seemed to be the last person to know you were engaged at all."

"Then you've spent years flirting with my wife's twin—"

"Let's not bring Pavi into this, please."

"You talk about Blaise's mum, Theo's mum, and now you're shagging Draco's mum. Any time my mother is mentioned you look like you'd rather jump off a building than think about her."

There was a heavy pause before Mr. Queensbury replied, "We are not talking about your mother."

"Does she know you're seeing Narcissa? Does she know you were pining after Narcissa while you were married, dad? Does she know—"

"I expect, son, that your mother doesn't know because she would disappear for weeks at a time when you were little to be with her second family. Though, if you ask Ellie, I'm sure she would've said that was her first family and we were the side bits. I started seeing other people when you were four because Ellie wasn't around enough to be a wife. Didn't want to be a wife, not mine, anyway. She wanted someone to care for a kid she didn't want, my parents provided her a good life, and she ran off to some ponce in Leytonstone."

Bastien's voice was barely discernable when he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"That woman at the table in there, the one for whom you hold so much disdain, Bas? She is the only reason I didn't cut you off from your mother. Narcissa convinced me not to be vindictive, and Ellie could still have a role in your life. Without Narcissa, you don't meet your mum's newest husband. You don't speak Bangla, you don't have your incredible wife, and you sure as hell don't have a relationship with your mother. I never told you because I wanted you to have a good relationship with your mum, and it's finally come 'round to bite me in the arse."

Draco heard the front door open, some more muffled shouting, and then Bastien's dad returned alone. He closed the door behind him and returned to the dining room bleeding from the corner of his eye. Blaise stood from the table and made to get the first aid kit, but Mr. Queensbury waved him off.

"It's fine, Blaise. He wasn't trying to hurt me, if he was I'd be laid out flat on your drive. Bas is taking the tube home. That rage has been building in him for a long while, now."

"This is my fault, Lance." Narcissa placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She dipped a napkin in her water glass and dabbed away the blood on Mr. Queensbury's face. It was tender in the way she once was with Draco's father. "I should have suggested you tell him."

No one seemed to quite know what to say. Draco stared down at the table and tried not to remember all the things Bastien said. The memories weren't buried deep enough. You weren't pulling rocks from his hair. Because Draco remembered rolling over onto the gravel, thinking he might die because he couldn't breathe. He was there for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been. His life was gone, his father disowned him, and he couldn't breathe.

Draco pulled himself from those thoughts. He was here with Hermione, with his friends, with his mother. Whatever Bastien thought of her, she had always tried to protect him.

Padma pressed the wine glass to her temple and said, "Don't censor yourselves on my account; Bas's mum doesn't like me."

Hermione leaned over to Draco and whispered, "Are you okay?"

"Not really," he cleared his throat, "no. I wish he hadn't said those things about me and what I went through. Now everyone knows, and it seems I hadn't worked through the shame quite as well as I thought I had."

"Perhaps Bastien hadn't worked through the trauma of seeing you like that as well as he thought he had," replied Hermione.

She was right. Draco stood up from the table and asked,

"You said the tube?"

"Yes—"

Draco rushed out the door and made for the Holland Park tube station. He ran, knowing how quickly Bastien could walk when he was in a bit of a rage. His loafers were not proper shoes for a run, he hadn't stretched, but Bastien couldn't go home like this. After five minutes of sprinting and frantic searching, Draco found him sitting on a bench in Royal Convent Gardens. He plopped onto the bench, hardly any space between them because Bastien was the width of a man-and-a-half.

"I hit him. I punched my dad."

"He called your mum a whore, I don't think he was surprised." Draco paused to catch his breath. "Besides, he was a bouncer, he can take a hit."

"Your mum gets me so outside myself. Hearing that she defended my mum? I got angry because I've misjudged her. There's bits of your mum I never allowed myself to see because I don't forgive her for what happened to you. She brought you back to an environment that was nothing short of abuse. That man hurt you, Draco. Hurt you worse than you even know."

"I'm sure you're right."

"I thought my family was the best. My grandparents were incredible, my dad's unbelievable, and then I've got you lot. My mum married Sajjad, and everything settled. Hearing she had another man? That I was her second family?" Bastien shook his head. "I can't fucking handle that."

"That's a normal reaction. I'm sorry what happened to me is something that still haunts you, as well. If I'd known, I would've talked to you about it years ago."

"Look, Theo's my best friend because we're straight normal blokes. You and Blaise have too much money to understand what being normal is like. But you are my close friend, almost a brother. You don't understand what it was like, opening the door to see you standing there, your eyes bloodshot, glazed over, your neck all bruised, you couldn't breathe, your chest was doing this thing …" He placed his palm on the centre of his chest. "Stuttering. There were those tiny rocks from the drive here," he pointed to the lowest part of his hair on the back of his head. "You fell into my arms. Just … you fell onto me because you couldn't stand up. I screamed for my dad. I don't know if I've ever screamed like that since …" Bastien shook his head. "The pain of seeing someone I loved hurt like that. It's why I was always with you at the gay clubs, you know. Couldn't stand the thought of you hurt like that again."

"Can I say something that might make you feel even worse?"

"Might as well."

"I don't remember any of it. I recall my father's words and the hatred in them, but other than that, I don't recall getting to you. I don't recall your dad taking me to hospital. The only thing I really remember from that day is thinking if I told you I wasn't straight, you might look at me different."

"We all knew, it seemed you were the last to know you weren't straight. You know I wouldn't look at you different."

"I thought I knew my father and he took everything from me. Telling you meant I might change things between us, thought you might not want me sleeping in the same room anymore, things like that."

"By the time I was thirteen Blaise had seen my cock a thousand times. Never bothered me with him, never bothered me with you, still doesn't bother me when you both look at me like I'm the fittest bloke you know."

Draco confirmed, "You are the fittest bloke I know."

"And I take a lotta pride in that."

"So you know, even if your mum did have people she loved more than you, there's a reason we refer to your father as 'Bas's dad.' There is nobody he loves more than you. He's the best father figure in my life, sure, but if he had to choose between you and me, he'd always choose you. I gave him a grandson in a way, but you and Padma—"

"I've always had to share my dad, you know? I know how much you need him, and how much Blaise needs him. Blaise has given us so much money. You gave my dad a grandson and a lover, and all I've given him is a mum who didn't want either of us." Bastien wiped the tears from his eyes. "If Padma and I have a kid, how can we involve my mum at all?"

Draco leaned back on the bench.

"The first day my father was home from prison, he walked through the front door of the manor a free man. He went past me, went past my mother, and straight to Scorpius to give him a hug. My father wanted to spend as much time as he could with the one person he hadn't fucked up. He was a fantastic grandfather. I don't …" Draco sighed. "I don't think he was a whole person when he came back. He was fifty-seven but he moved like he was eighty. Seeing my father with my son was everything to me, and it made his death much easier to process. My dad saw everything great about me in my son."

"My mum's not like that. She's a proper bitch to my dad, to my wife, even. But she gave birth to me, feels like that means something."

"Perhaps you need to figure out what that means before you decide whether to involve her in your child's life. Not that I'm good authority on parenting, but—"

"I think you're the best authority on figuring out who a kid needs." Bastien shrugged and said, "Look around your son. You were half-dead that first year, Draco, and you let Blaise take over because you knew it was right. You've got me and Theo. My dad, your mum, Scorpius has always had people looking after him because you built that for him. I want to do that, too. I want to build a foundation of people for my kid like that."

Draco wondered, "Is having a child the reason you're retiring?"

"No," Bastien admitted, "I'm too fucking old for boxing anymore. If I made real money off it, if I was professional I might try to make a go of it a few more years. My liver can't take another serious hit and I want a life with Padma forty years from now. I've got a hefty trophy case, and someday I hope to make room on there for my little girl's winnings."

"A girl?"

"I want a little Padma so bad, mate. It's hard seeing my family in this new light right as me and Padma are trying to make our own family together. Half the way I viewed my mum is a lie?"

"I think you've got to ask her about it. Nothing you can do 'til then." Draco stood up and said, "Let's walk back."

"Nah, mate, I'm not going back there. I just ruined Blaise's engagement party, I don't want to face that."

"I know, but you have to."

Bastien stood up and they walked to the house in silence. It was much slower going back, with the sides of Draco's feet aching, desperate to be free of the loafers. As they approached the front gate, Bastien grumbled,

"Tracey will have my bollocks for this."

Draco conceded, "She'll be pissed, but—hold on, where've the cars gone?"

Bastien looked around and noted, "My car's not here. Did Padma leave without me?"

"Your dad said you were taking the tube."

"Oh."

They walked through the front door, Draco toed off his shoes, then they made for the dining room. It seemed everyone had cleared out; only Blaise and Dean remained. While Blaise stared resolutely down at the table, Dean was glaring at Bastien with far more than annoyance in his eyes. If he wasn't speaking to his own family, then this was their one chance at a proper pre-wedding get-together. Draco broke the silence with,

"Where's Hermione?"

"Hermione drove Padma home." Dean Thomas said, "She had a bit too much wine. I suppose Mr. Queensbury, here, can leave once Hermione's brought the car back. We sent everyone home with a slice of torta caprese."

Bastien said, "About that—"

"I'm not interested in what you have to say." Blaise looked at Bastien, hurt. "When you wanted to cook a meal for your proposal, you phoned me. These are important moments in our lives. I am nearly thirty-five, and finally found the person I am meant to be with. I have waited so long—"

"I know—"

"Basta!" shouted Blaise, as he slammed his fist on the table causing everyone to jump. He stood up from his chair and walked all the way around the table to stand in front of Bastien. "I love and respect your father. When you grow up without any parents present, you value the adults in your life who are. I finally found someone who will be present for me as a husband and I wanted him here to see it."

"I'm sorry." Bastien held out his arms and said, "I know I shouldn't have made this about me and my dad. I am sorry I did."

"Your apology is not enough. I have done nothing but give and give and be there for everyone. I pay for everything! Tracey's education, the twins' boarding school, and your wedding! I let Padma fly to all her conferences on my plane. I cared for Draco's son, driving eight hours in a car back and forth to Wiltshire every week. Then all the birthdays we celebrate for free at my restaurant. I did it because I love all of you and I knew that someday, one day I would have love for myself. For years I have been the only one in our group left alone."

Blaise started crying and nobody quite knew what to do. He looked up at the ceiling like he was begging for it to come crashing down on top of him. Dean Thomas tried to console him, placed a hand on Blaise's waist, but Blaise pushed him away.

"Get off me!"

Dean backed away, both hands aloft.

"I thought that, finally, I could be like the rest of you. I have a partner I love and this was meant to be me celebrating him. To celebrate me being, after all these years, a whole part of our family instead of going to events alone. I wanted this moment and you ruined it."

Bastien nodded and repeated, "I know, and I apologise."

"Get out of my house," demanded Blaise. He added, "You are not welcome at my wedding," then made for the stairs.

The three of them watched him leave, gobsmacked. Bastien looked like a deflated balloon, and not even Dean Thomas had expected so visceral a reaction. Dean insisted,

"I'll talk him 'round. There is no reason for you not to be there."

"Except that I did ruin this for him." Bastien's voice was soft. "I didn't intend for it to go this way, but it did. I let my anger at my family get in the way of his moment. He's within his right to tell me to stay away. I'll wait for my car outside the gate."

He made for the front door, but Draco grabbed him by the arm.

"You can wait in here."

"When I tell someone to leave my house, I expect they do it. I'm not staying here, mate. He told me what he wanted and I'm not going to overlook his will a second time tonight."

Dean offered, "I'll wait with you, then."

Draco watched them leave, then took the stairs two at a time to find Blaise sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. Draco sat next to him and said nothing.

"I've become my mother, tearing families apart."

"Come again?"

"Dean's not speaking to any of his family because of me. Bastien will never see his parents the same again."

"You've got it wrong. Dean is willing to choose you over anyone, and that's now a fact. Bastien deserved to know the truth about his family a long time ago, and it's not your fault he needs to reevaluate things. None of this is your fault."

"I should not have said the things I said. I should apologise."

Blaise made to stand, but Draco pulled him down.

"Bastien needed to hear how much he hurt you. He's a good man, but even good men don't always realise how much wrong they've done. Let him sweat it out a bit, then he'll be appreciative once you extend the wedding invitation."

"I had invitations made." Blaise revealed, "They are quite nice, they have a pull tab in the card, so you pull on the water and the gondola moves to reveal the date. I plan to send them out next week."

"Of course, because you're busy this week."

"Am I?"

"We've got a home tour on Tuesday."

"Ah." Blaise grinned. "I am excited about that. Is it just the two of us?"

"You and me."

.oOo.

Draco was working half-days at Malfoy Holdings. He wanted to be available to Hermione, but he also knew he was needed at the business. Hermione also asked him not to hover. He'd work out the balancing act eventually. After all, he was about to finalize an important asset transfer from Malfoy Matchmaking to Malfoy Holdings.

Tuesday morning, Blaise drove Draco to the property Trisha Buttermere had been rather insistent about on the phone. Blaise stepped out of the Bugatti and flipped the keys between his fingers. They closed the doors and stepped through the small metal gate surrounding the home. While Draco examined the house in front of him, Blaise looked at the nearby homes and the staff peeking out from behind curtains. Draco said,

"We needn't've driven here. It's six blocks from your house."

Blaise waved his hand dismissively and said, "I want the neighbors to know money is moving in."

"Right, because the other people buying homes for twenty million pounds in Kensington don't have money."

"They have mortgages, Draco." Blaise closed the car door and waited for the top to close. "None of them are paying up-front. These are primary residences, not secondary. Furthermore, our income bracket lives on Bishops a half hour north. The neighbors need to know the value of their home is about to jump significantly."

"Why is that of any concern to me?"

"Because they'll be much more forgiving of the cameras that may begin hanging around the neighborhood," Trisha said, appearing from nowhere. "Not to mention the security you'll bring."

"I see." Draco gestured toward the house and said, "It's a good start, Trisha. Double-fronted villa, portico over the front door, and I love the brick on the upper level."

"Wait until you see inside."

The number '3' was bolded on the transom window above the front door. Trisha turned the key and opened the door to reveal a sizeable entry hall with a staircase taking up the left half. To the right was the dining room, reception to the left. The entrance floor was a beautiful white marble, and the handrail was the same dark wood as the doorways of the rooms on either side. It was nice, but hardly felt like home. It was a bit … clinical. Draco could hardly see Scorpius standing here, stepping out of his muddy wellies. As though she could sense his reticence, Trisha said,

"Let's begin in the reception."

It was a lovely room. The white walls were a good choice because the three large windows at the front of the home let in an incredible amount of natural light. The fireplace was black marble, the floors were a dark wood, and Draco quite liked this room.

"This will be good for entertaining."

"The art is hideous." Blaise gestured to the framed prints and said, "These aren't originals and you're selling the home for twenty million pounds?"

Draco corrected him, "Twenty-five-point-seven."

"The home is as the current owners had it." Trisha agreed, "I also think the art is hideous, but if I only sold the homes of rich people with taste then I would have an incredibly small portfolio."

Blaise seemed to accept that as a fair response, so they moved onto the dining room. The table sat ten and there were another three windows looking at the street outside the front of the home. This was a much darker room, with dark wood floors and brown walls—

"These curtains are atrocious. Santo Cielo, can't these people afford a decorator?"

Trisha, looking rather exasperated, suggested, "Perhaps you would like to see the party room?"

"Isn't that just a reception?" asked Draco.

"In most homes, of course. But this is crying out for a good soiree."

She was right. The second reception was essentially two open concept rooms forced together. The first had a bar, sleek white cabinets, a massive rug and yet another dining table. What sold Draco on the house was that entirely glass second room, looking out at the side and back of the property. The view was a fence, grass, and trees. It looked nothing like London. Light flooded in and Draco said,

"I can imagine snowy days in here. When you look up and all you see is a blanket of white atop the glass ceiling? God, this is exactly the sort of modernity the manor can never have, but I've always searched for. Blaise, we could have some of our get-togethers right here."

Blaise didn't say anything, but his silence seemed amenable. Draco had his doubts when he arrived, but this was an incredible slice of serenity in central London. It was different enough from Blaise's home, yet close enough that Blaise, Dean, Hermione, or Draco could take him to school in the morning. Perhaps he could do the most normal thing in the world and walk his son to school. Scorpius could see each of them every day, none of the hopping from home to home; he could have the life of Malfoy excess in London and Wiltshire. Draco noted the television hanging on the wall in the first room, recessed in a large entertainment centre behind doors.

"I can imagine a large sofa, just here," Draco pointed to the bare area a few metres from the telly. "When my mother asked what I wanted my relationship to look like ten years from now, I said I'd be on the sofa watching old films, cuddled under a blanket with my love. I can see me and Hermione here, watching movies as the snow falls outside, Scorpius reading Dean's latest book by the light from the glass windows."

Blaise's soft smile was all the confirmation Draco needed that the house had swung quite suddenly into the 'yes' category.

Trisha suggested, "Why don't we go downstairs to view the pool and staff quarters? That seems to be the biggest concern for you." She led them down a staircase and, "On the left is the gymnasium, which the current owners use as a dance studio. Next on the left is the cinema room—"

Draco frowned at it and asked, "Who the bloody hell needs a cinema in their house? Hermione doesn't even have a telly. Add this to the list of things we should be rid of in this place."

Blaise pointed to the room on the right.

"Is this the staff quarters?"

"Yes." Trisha confirmed, "The chef's kitchen is there, and this door is also accessible to deliveries."

"Then you can turn this into a room for a live-in housekeeper. Turn the studio into a proper staff living area, this staff quarters as it is does not merit the calibre of live-in we expect. This home's entire renovation is obviously new money."

"Blaise," said Draco, "you are new money."

"Which is why I purchased a home in this neighborhood, and I don't have a live-in." He turned to Trisha and said, "All my live-in housekeeps are at my estates in Italy."

"Mr. Zabini, I don't doubt your wealth." She gestured to the area down the hall and said, "This is the pool area. As you can see, it is completely blocked off by a glass wall. The door, here, can be locked. I believe this space is where the homeowner likes to lounge while watching her young lover do laps."

"All the more reason to fill it. I don't need Hermione inviting Viktor Krum over for a swim." He paused, then reconsidered. "On second thought—"

"As it is glass, you could repurpose it into a greenhouse," offered Blaise. "Put in a skylight there, bring the greenery inside the home. Then you've still got a nice lounge area for the staff and a bit of natural air filtration."

Draco insisted, "I said no renovations."

"Moving furniture out of the cinema, taking the mirrors down from the dance studio, and putting some plants into the pool room? I hardly think that merits the term 'renovation.'"

Trisha took them upstairs to look at the bedrooms and offices. The office spaces were fine, if sparsely designed. Draco could put his own touch on it. The master bedroom was perfect. There were two bathrooms and two closets. The female owner had taken the larger of the two, but Hermione wouldn't mind handing it off to Draco. He knew as much because he would exchange it for the larger bathroom, which had an incredible tub. He gestured to it and said,

"Hermione will love this. She enjoys a long soak with bubbles."

Blaise said, "Everyone enjoys a long soak with bubbles."

Draco nudged his shoulder and asked, "Does Dean Thomas enjoy a long soak with bubbles?" Then he watched Blaise's cheeks flush pink. "Blaise, are you blushing?"

"Don't."

"Why don't we move on to the true selling point?" asked Trisha. "It's my best card to play in favour of this house. It's the reason I pushed for it."

"Oh?" Draco was suddenly quite curious. "There is something that wasn't in the photographs you sent?"

"Correct."

On the lower level of the opposite side of the home was the door to a study. Trisha took a deep breath and said,

"My husband and I are fans of Hermione Granger. She mentioned on the tour of the previous home that she wanted a space for her books." Trisha opened the door and gestured for Blaise and Draco to walk through. "I think this is perfect for her."

Draco stepped into the study and noted they had kept the antique wooden bookshelves on the wall opposite the windows. There was a long table with four chairs, perfect for Hermione to spread out five books at a time. There were reading chairs atop a plush rug. Each level of the bookshelves were lit from above, causing the text on the spines to shine. In the far corner was a spiral staircase leading up to a second level which was nothing but bookshelves. It was three times the size of Hermione's library, with the perfect amount of natural light and privacy. This was the serenity Hermione longed for, and only ten minutes away from work. Draco whispered, mostly to himself,

"I see her at home in here."