Once a Malfoy, Always a Malfoy

Narcissa Malfoy entered her son's kitchen with Mr. Dillinger nervously leading the way. Dressed immaculately in rich, midnight colored robes, she stopped roughly ten feet in front of her son as he stood stock still, rigid as a board with a face as impassive as she'd ever seen. Her heart twitched in her chest as she noted the changes in him since she'd last set eyes on him seven years ago.

He had grown taller and gained weight. His state of dress confused her. Her son had always favored black and veered towards well-tailored suits or proper robes. He stood in front of her in what she could only assume was some semblance of muggle clothing. Straight-legged khakis and a denim button up—he looked very little like the young man she'd been forced to leave behind.

While she'd not been a death eater herself and had no dark mark, she'd been found guilty of aiding the Dark Lord's purpose. Harry Potter's account of her aiding him during the final battle had been taken into consideration. It was the fact that she still wasn't fond of muggle-borns and openly admitted that she did not believe they were equal to her 'kind' which forced the ministry to sentence her to ten years exile in France. Her comings and goings were monitored still but the biggest blow had been regarding her son.

She should have been thankful that the ministry had spared him minus a year's probation. However, they considered him able to be properly rehabilitated. Whatever he'd said in his private trial had convinced them that her having too much interaction with him would slow or impede the process entirely.

His responses to her allowed letters were short and grew colder each year. However, he always responded. She knew he'd changed his views, despite that she didn't always agree. When she never received a response to her last letter, she'd become concerned.

Narcissa's gaze moved from her son to the small woman next to him sheltered protectively by his arm. Hermione Granger. She remembered the muggle-born girl and recalled various things Draco had told her about the girl as they grew up. She'd bested her son in every subject every year. To say she'd been surprised to learn of the match would have been an understatement.

She remembered last seeing her at the final battle, disheveled and too thin. Now she looked healthier, her wild hair tamed into gentle curls, and it was obvious that her son had warmed to her. She recalled her intelligence and the fact that she was often touted in the Daily Prophet for her reforms on wizarding laws. She couldn't deny that she had grown into an somewhat attractive woman.

Despite this, she was still a muggle-born. Magic too fresh in her bones compared to pureblood families whose magic ran deep and saturated.

"Draco," she greeted him. She held out a hand for him to come to her but he stood his ground. Was he gritting his teeth?

"Why are you here, Mother?"

Perhaps she imagined it but she could have sworn she saw him tighten his grip on his wife.

She sighed. Obviously in order to rehabilitate him, they'd also poisoned him to her.

"Draco, you never answered my letter. You've always answered in a timely manner."

Draco merely stared. "I've been busy."

"Obviously," she answered, one pale eyebrow lifted. "Can we speak privately for a moment?" She cast a disapproving glance at Hermione.

She watched as her son opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by his wife.

"I don't—"

Hermione turned out from under his arm and faced him. "I think you should talk to her, Draco."

Draco cast a cold glare at his mother but quickly turned back to Hermione. Always brave, she had the most hopeful expression in her brown eyes. He sighed and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Fine," he leaned down to her ear, "but only if I get to shag you silly later."

He pulled back to find her biting her lip, smirking at him. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You do realize I benefit from that as well."

Draco smiled mischievously and kissed her full on the mouth, not caring one whit what his mother thought. The little surprised squeak his wife made only made it better as he was sure he heard his mother huff irritably.

All the warmth leaked from his expression when he looked at his mother again. "Fine. We can talk in the library."

Narcissa didn't bother giving Hermione another glance as she followed her son down the hallway. He slid the library doors open and gestured for her to enter. He followed behind her and stood rigidly by the closed door, his hands knotted behind his back.

She glanced about the room and took in the cozy ambiance. While she clearly saw her son's influence, there were also traces of the witch everywhere.

"Well," he asked after a beat.

She turned back to him, her face a mask of confusion. "Draco, why did you not respond to my last letter? Is it her? Did she tell you to cease all contact with your family?"

Draco leveled her with his coldest glare. "No, mother, Hermione made no such demands. Though I'd wager she's not your biggest fan considering the idiotic ideas you still believe in."

"She's a muggle-born, Draco. You know their magic can't match ours."

He snorted at that and finally moved from the spot near the door to the far wall where Hermione had shelved her vast collection. His eyes roved over the titles stamped into the spines. The topics ranged from herbology, charms, magical history, and so much more. The only thing she seemed to have no interest in was divination which made sense given her reactions to Trelawney third year.

"Hermione is not just the brightest witch of our time but likely the most powerful as well."

He recalled the day she'd unlocked his office door when no one else had been able to. It was a relatively new spell he'd been working on with the Charms office. She must have been on the list of those interested in learning new spells as they were in the works. There was no other way she'd been privy to the counter spell. It was a very difficult one at that.

"Draco, I've heard as much as anyone about her intelligence and skill. It doesn't mean any children you have with her wouldn't have unstable magic—or worse, be squibs. A muggle-born's magic is too new and without generations of roots."

Draco turned away from the books and laughed openly at his mother. "You poor, poor soul. It's sad that you still believe that bullshit."

"Draco, language!"

He lifted an arrogant eyebrow. "You're in my home and I'll speak however I want. So far all you've done is belittle my wife. I see no reason to show you any respect."

Narcissa fumed at him, clinching her fists at her sides. "Draco, I sincerely hope you've not slept with the girl yet. It's your only loophole out of this marriage by its anniversary."

His mouth formed his trademark smirk as he thought of just how thoroughly he'd made love to her—each time.

"Too late."

His mother paled considerably. "Draco, do you realize what you've done," she hissed. "What if she's pregnant now?"

"I could only be so lucky."

"What have they done to you? I can understand forming an alliance with Harry Potter and not openly showing hatred towards muggles or muggle-borns. But this…this is not right."

Draco felt rage begin to boil in his blood. He was proud of his love for Hermione. It had humbled him considerably but he didn't regret it.

"Not right? Not right?" He advanced on her, his tone turning dangerously dark. "What's not right is that I've had to dig myself out of a personal hell because of the ignorant bullshit you and my father fed me my whole life. You know nothing. You're uneducated and operating on idiotic ideals handed down from backwards generation to backwards generation." He stopped a few feet away and stared. "You want to know what's not right? I fought the urge to kill aunt Bellatrix myself that night."

His mother held a hand over her chest, as she eyed him closely. "I never said I approved of torturing them, Draco," she spoke quietly. "Merely that we don't belong together."

He ignored her and continued his rant. "Watching her fight and lie to survive that night, I hated myself for the next seven years because of what I'd done and the pain I represented in her life. And you know what? Somehow, she fell in love with me. I don't deserve it but she loves me anyway. But I'm a selfish bastard and I want her to love me. And I'll be damned if I won't work to be everything she ever wanted in a husband because she deserves that and so much more. So you can take your pureblood bullshit and shove off!"

Draco turned on heel and stormed out of the room. He found Hermione standing patiently at the end of the hall waiting for him. Her chocolate eyes were wide and the love he saw there grounded him. When she held out a hand for him, he came to her without question and allowed her to place a loving kiss on his lips.

"You heard everything, didn't you," he asked with a sigh. Her touch deflated most of the anger still coursing through him.

"Couldn't help it. A silencio would have solved that," she teased. Her smile soon dissolved and she patted his chest with one hand. "Harry and Neville are here. I sent Harry an owl and they both came. Go talk to them. I think I should talk to your mother." He opened his mouth to protest but she held a finger over his lips to shush him. "Listen to your wife just this once. I'll be fine."

He nodded and began to move around her but she stopped him.

"And Draco, you are the husband I've always wanted."

She didn't wait for a response and made her way down the hall to the library. She took a deep breath as she gathered her wits about her. She'd hoped to never see anyone in his family ever again. The prospect of dealing with another bigot like the Malfoys was a rather large buzzkill for the wonderful morning she'd been having.

After few more breaths, she slid the door open to find Narcissa Malfoy still standing there looking rather dumbfounded. She stepped inside and closed the door after her.

"Silencio," she muttered, her wand still tucked away. She approached her mother-in-law and gestured for her to take a seat. "Mrs. Malfoy, I'll be straight with you. I get it. You don't like me, not for who I am but for what I am. I think you're wrong but I also know what I think doesn't matter to you."

"You just don't understand," the older witch shook her head.

Hermione shrugged, her arms held out at her sides. "You're right. I really don't. I don't understand how anyone can be so ignorant and blind. But I don't have to prove anything to you. I don't have to prove how stable my magic is and how I have the right to be a part of your world just as much as you do." She tried to appear relaxed when in reality she was quaking on the inside both with anger and fear.

"That all being said, let's just be clear. I'm married to your son. It's not something either of us chose but frankly…I'm happy with him. And one day I am going to have his children. It's going to happen whether you approve of us or not."

Narcissa watched the young woman closely. She couldn't deny that she very well fit the house she'd been sorted into. Brave, daring, and determined—she was every inch a Gryffindor.

Yet, she wasn't what she'd ever pictured for her son. She'd always imagined a witch who was smart and beautiful to match his looks, but also dutiful that would be an asset to their family. However, he'd been given an intelligent, reasonably attractive, but stubborn witch. This woman was no match for that Greengrass girl she'd once eyed for him. This woman was far too assertive and obviously leading her son around by his prick.

Narcissa lifted a thin eyebrow as she eyed the witch from head to toe. "You seem so assured of your hold on my son."

Instead of riling her anger, Hermione's expression softened, almost pitying.

"I don't have any particular hold on your son, Mrs. Malfoy. He's been this way since day one of our marriage." She shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips as she thought through their first interactions. "He's protective, stubborn, and frankly, a fair bit angry. I can't say I blame him. He was dealt quite the hand of cards in life. But I'm determined to make everything from here on out better for him." Hermione moved towards the door again, deciding that she'd said enough. "I love Draco. And if you want to mend this between him, I recommend you lose your animosity towards me and my blood status."

Narcissa stood as well, drawing up to her full height. "You're awfully arrogant, you know."

Hermione shook her head at the woman. "Not arrogant. I just know Draco. I've never met anyone more protective of me and that includes my friends, Harry and Ron. Draco doesn't take kindly to anyone who crosses me. It's best you learn that now."

She slid the door open and muttered, "Finite incantatem."

"You don't use your wand much, Miss Granger," the witch called after her.

She turned back and met her gaze, grey eyes so similar to Draco's yet without an ounce of the same warmth. "I mastered wandless magic early. I often don't feel the need to pull it out for simple spells. And it's Granger-Malfoy, by the way."

She sniffed haughtily, despite being impressed by her skills. "Draco couldn't even stop you from keeping your muggle name."

Hermione just shook her head. She'd said enough already.

She stood in front of the three men in her living room as they grouped around her protectively. She and Draco watched as Mr. Dillinger escorted Narcissa Malfoy back to the floo. She didn't bother to say any goodbyes and kept her nose in the air as if she hadn't just been told off twice in one hour.

When the green flames died down, Hermione turned with slumped shoulders and headed for the kitchen.

"I need a drink," she muttered.

Harry, Neville, and Draco all shared a bewildered expression before shrugging and following her. They found her pouring a glass of Firewhisky at the kitchen table.

"I didn't even know we had that," Draco muttered to Harry. "Is my wife a closet drunk?"

Harry snorted and took a seat with her. "How long have you been hiding that?"

She gave him an odd look and took a drink. "It's the same bottle I bought the first time the nightmares started. You know I don't drink often."

And true to her word, the bottle was still half full.

"Are you alright, Hermione," Neville asked kindly.

She glanced over her shoulder when she felt Draco's hand's on her shoulders, slowly massaging her tense muscles. She hadn't even realized he was behind her chair.

"I'm fine, Neville."

"You don't look fine," Harry observed sadly.

She patted one of Draco's hands to let him know he could stop. She sighed when he took the seat next to her and rested a hand comfortingly on her thigh.

"For nearly fourteen years I've been fighting with these people to prove I belong here. It's just exhausting."

Harry nodded in understanding and glanced over at Draco. He fought the urge to smile. He looked like an angry hippogriff ready to strike. It was comforting to know that his best friend was in such good hands.

"I won't allow her back here again," Draco promised her quietly. "I'll go straight to Kingsley at work tomorrow if that's what it takes. I'll have them block any communication from her."

She shook her head and gave him a small smile. "No, then she wins. You don't need to do anything. After all, she already thinks I've turned you against her."

He shook his head, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. "She did that herself. She and my father both. Damn bastards." He glanced down a bit self-consciously. "I never realized until I spent that month living with the Weasleys, sans your friend, just how horrible my parents were."

That just did her heart in and she couldn't stop herself from embracing him in a comforting hug. She'd lived the last seven years with a numb spot in her heart from all of the losses—her parents, her closeness with Ron—and it was taking Draco Malfoy to make her feel again.

She pulled back after a moment and rubbed at her eyes that had begun to water slightly. She offered a sincere smile to Harry and Neville as Draco ran a comforting hand along the length of her back.

"Well, lunch is certainly ruined," she laughed. "Can we just eat out for lunch? Harry…Neville, do you want to come?"

Harry nodded after sharing a look with Draco. "Sure, I'll just go home and get Ginny."

Neville agreed as well and promised to return with Hannah who he'd married in a private ceremony in Kingsley's office two weeks earlier.

Before Harry could leave, she grabbed his arm. "What about Ron? Should we invite him and Luna?"

He swallowed and reached to push his glasses up on his nose. "I'll send an owl."

Draco found her in the living room after they'd departed and without a word wrapped her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. He wanted to take away the entire events of that morning, all of the nasty things she'd heard his mother say.

Hermione felt like melting right into him with every pass of his hand over the length of her back.

"You give good hugs," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He snorted at that and merely smiled when she smacked him. "Never been told that before."

She ignored him though. She was feeling rather warm and contented in his arms. "Can we visit Flourish and Blotts as well? I'm out of reading material. It's been nearly three weeks since I've been able to go."

"Of course." He'd spoil her rotten with every last galleon in the Malfoy vaults if she let him.

He kissed her temple and sent her upstairs to get ready. Once she was out of sight he released a pent up groan of frustration and ran his hands through his hair, unable to stop the onslaught of memories from invading his mind.

"You, Draco Black Malfoy, are accused of conspiring against the Ministry and being a death eater in cohorts with Lord Voldemort. We've heard the testimony of Harry Potter on your behalf. How do you plead? "

An eighteen year-old Draco swallowed nervously and glanced at the grey-haired witch sitting behind the tall podium. He chanced a look at the few members of the Order seated behind him, many glaring at his back.

"Guilty," he answered quietly.

The witch nodded and shuffled some parchment in front of her. "Mr. Malfoy, due to your age and inexperience the Ministry is affording you the opportunity to recount your actions to the Wizengamot. Should we decide that you are able to be rehabilitated back into regular wizarding society, we will sentence you to a year's probation and assign you a sponsor. In order to qualify, you must submit to the use of veritaserum." She looked down at him over her rectangular glasses. "Do you agree?"

Draco's lip twitched nervously. He could say no and likely face life in Azkaban. Or he could say yes, lay his soul bare and likely embarrass himself beyond repair, but perhaps one day live a somewhat normal life.

"Yes."

The witch offered him a slight, motherly smile. "Very good. Kingsley, if you would."

Kingsley Shacklebolt approached from the side of the room and led Draco to a sturdy wooden chair. He gestured for him to sit.

Draco's breathing was labored as his nerves threatened to work him into a frenzy. He looked up as Kinglsey approached again with a small vial of clear liquid. Trembling slightly, he accepted the vial and downed it before he could change his mind.

He sat there a moment and waited as the potion worked into his bloodstream. The eyes of the Wizengamot and members of the Order burning holes into him. The effects took hold of him and suddenly his body and mind didn't feel quite in his own control.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you're ready, we'll begin."

He nodded quickly and gripped the arm of the chair, preparing for what, he didn't know.

"Is it true Mr. Malfoy that you were present for the torture of Hermione Granger under the cruciatus curse by a now deceased Bellatrix LeStrange?"

"Yes."

The words floated of his tongue so easily he almost wasn't even aware of uttering them.

"And you did nothing to stop your aunt from torturing your classmate?"

"No…but I wanted to."

The crowd erupted into a wave of excited noise.

"Quiet!" She banged a gavel repeatedly until she had silence again. "Explain yourself, Mr. Malfoy."

The compulsion to lie was strong but it wasn't near as strong as the need to tell the truth.

"I—I don't really know. I'd always teased her and said horrible things to her in school. I admit that we didn't get along—for more reasons than her blood status." He shook his head, his hands gripping the arms of the stiff chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "But in that moment, I just wanted it to stop. I knew it was wrong. Everything we were doing was wrong. But I was scared that if I stepped in and did something, my aunt would kill her on the spot. The very idea that I might care even the slightest whit what happened to a mud—muggle-born would have infuriated her."

The witch nodded and scribbled something with her quill.

"I didn't want to be there," he added quietly. He waited until she nodded for him to continue. "I didn't want the mark. I thought I did. Until it was time and I really understood what I was being asked to do. I didn't want it. But I knew if I didn't take it, or the assignment, he'd kill me and then he'd kill my mother."

"So you took the dark mark and the assignment to assassinate Albus Dumbledore because you feared for your and your mother's life?"

"Yes."

He answered a long series of questions, truths slipping from his lips as though they belonged to the Wizengamot itself. It was over two hours before she reached her last question.

"Mr. Malfoy, should you be chosen for rehabilitation and placed on probation, what do you wish to do with your life? You realize your father will never be released from Azakaban. Your mother's fate still hangs in the balance until her trial."

He wiped at the sweat collecting on his brow and swallowed. His throat was dry from all of the talking but he didn't dare ask for water.

"I just want to live a quiet life. I want to leave this all behind. I'd like to do something to contribute to repairing all of the terror that I've participated in, whether I wished to or not."

They placed him in a solitary, stark white room magically locked for over two more hours. At least he'd been given a glass of water and a chance to use the toilet. He counted the ceiling tiles ten times before the door finally creaked open and the witch overseeing his trial entered.

He nearly knocked the chair he'd been sitting in over in his haste to stand.

"Mr. Malfoy, after much deliberation the Wizengamot has decided to grant you a year's probation. It is our belief that you acted mostly in an effort to survive in an environment your family subjected you to and your views were also shaped by said environment. It's clear that you'd already been questioning them. After consulting with the headmistress, we believe it will be best for you to return to Hogwarts on September 1st and finish your seventh year. After which time, your probation will be up for review. Your professors will be reporting on your progress regularly and your wand will have limited magic purely for classroom work and basic daily spells."

Draco breathed in relief that he never thought he'd feel again. It was really a small price to pay given what he'd thought would happen to him after the final battle.

"You will spend the last month before returning to school living with your sponsor." She stopped and opened the door for someone to enter.

His eyes widened when he watched Molly Weasley enter the room, a tentative smile on her face.

"Mrs. Weasley has graciously volunteered, Mr. Malfoy."

Sweet Merlin, she might not hate him but her children surely did. He might be murdered in his sleep before he ever got the chance to board the Hogwarts Express.

"After some final examining and restraints have been set, you may pick up your wand on your way out." She looked at Mrs. Weasley then, "I'll leave you to it then."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and waited. Why in the world this woman would volunteerfor this was beyond him. His family had been nothing but nasty to hers as long as he could remember.

"Chin up, Draco," she admonished in a motherly tone he wasn't used to. "This is a best case scenario. You're going to make it out of this alright after all."

He nodded but it still didn't feel alright. Nothing felt right. He felt heavy with guilt and regrets.

"Best to be off then. We have a lot to do."

She turned to leave but he spoke up and stopped her.

"M-Mrs. Weasley? Why did you volunteer for this?"

She turned back to him and, oddly enough, smiled. "Because had you been my own son, I would have wanted someone to take care of you. And Draco, you need someone to look after you. I won't say anything nasty about your parents but you've not been nurtured the way a child should be growing up." As if reading his mind, she added, "You don't need to be worried about my children either. Ron's just left to work with his brother in Romania and the others are quick to adapt."

They had a quiet lunch with their friends in Diagon Alley. Ron never showed but Luna did and seemed to enjoy the lunch regardless. Draco followed along quietly behind as Luna and Hermione entered Flourish and Blotts, engaged in an animated conversation about magical pets.

He left them and promised to return shortly. He wanted to visit another shop.

Hermione felt warm from the enjoyment of her friends and satisfied from a tasty lunch. She'd even had dessert at Draco's urging and could still taste the double fudge cake she'd shared with him on her tongue.

"How's it going with Ron," Hermione finally got the courage to ask as she and Luna perused the magical creatures section.

Luna glanced up from the copy of Rare Beasts and Furry Puffs she was perusing and offered a small smile. "He seems rather upset with the idea but he's also been agreeable on anything I've asked. I was hoping to do a small ceremony with friends. Speaking of which, would you come to the small ceremony we've planned?"

Hermione dropped her fingers from a book on magical felines and smiled. "Of course I will, Luna. When have you decided to have it?"

"I wanted to wait until the last week of our allotted time. I thought he might need more time to readjust after being gone for so long."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

Luna shrugged and held the book to her chest, obviously deciding to add it to her collection. "I don't think it's me he's having trouble with as much as it is the law itself. These things have a way of coloring how you look at a situation."

Hermione nodded. She could all too well understand being angry over the law. It was hard to believe she'd once been near as angry when she'd first learned of it. Here she was though months down the line and deeply in love with Draco Malfoy of all people. It hadn't been that bad after all.

"He'll come around. He always does. Ron's a bit stubborn but he's always been a good friend. And his heart is always in the right place even if sometimes his brain is not. He'll be a good husband to you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Hermione turned around and found a sheepish looking Ron approaching them, scratching nervously as the back of his neck. He gave Hermione a one-armed hug before approaching Luna and leaning in for an awkward hug as well.

"We'll have to work on that," Luna smiled at Hermione.

She laughed and just shook her head. Typical Ron.

"Sorry I wasn't at lunch. I was helping dad de-gnome the yard and didn't get the letter until it was too late."

"Quite alright," Luna smiled that normal dreamy smile of hers. "I'm sure there'll be more opportunities for lunch with friends."

She excused herself to purchase her book and tactfully gave the two friends a chance to speak.

"I honestly thought you were avoiding us," Hermione admitted.

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Probably would have crossed my mind but it's not you I'm upset with. It's Malfoy who's the git. It's weird seeing you with him, I guess."

She shook her head, already fearful of where this way going. "Don't start that again, Ron. I really don't have the patience for it today."

"You can't make me like the idiot, Hermione. He doesn't deserve you."

He'd told Harry he would try but found at the banquet that it was rather difficult watching their childhood nemesis all over the witch he'd once thought would be his.

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment to regain some semblance of serenity. "How are things going with Luna?" She hoped a change of subjects would help.

And it did. He cringed and turned a bit pink. "I like Luna well enough but I never really thought of her thatway before."

"You don't find her attractive at all?"

It would kind of put a hiccup in the whole having kids point of the marriage.

He shrugged and turned redder still. "She's quite pretty I just…"

She held up a hand to stop him. "I get it. It was the same for me. I never really looked at him like that before either but, and I know you don't want to hear it, I'm very attracted to him."

"That's just gross, Hermione," he visibly cringed.

"Don't be such a child, Ronald." She paused and grabbed another book for her growing stack before facing him again. His face drained of a bit of color and he stood more rigid, a frown on his face.

"Malfoy," he nodded.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to find Draco approaching.

"Weasley." He nodded indifferently in greeting before redirecting his attention to his wife. "Find more books," he asked her.

"Just getting started." She smiled when he held his hands out and handed her small stack to him to hold. She turned back to Ron and offered him a friendly smile. "Give it a sincere try with Luna, Ron. Why don't you take her out for dinner so you two can get more comfortable with each other?"

"Can't give the Ministry children if you're not doing the horizontal tango after all," Draco tried to joke.

Ron glared at him before turning and walking off to catch up with his fiancé.

"I was only joking," Draco spoke quietly. "Well…sort of. It's kind of true."

Hermione laughed at him and leaned up to kiss him soundly. "It's a good thing the Ministry paired me with you and not Ron then."

Thankful she wasn't upset, he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "No desire to see the Weasel in his knickers then?"

She shook her head with a shudder. That ship had long ago sailed. "No, not in the least." She grabbed his arm and tugged him in the direction of the charms section. "Luna asked us to come to the ceremony by the way. She wanted to have a small one with friends."

"Lovely," he sneered. "Just how I want to spend a perfectly good afternoon—watching Weasley get hitched."

"Behave, Draco, or you'll find yourself celibate again."

She grinned over her shoulder when he looked so crestfallen at her threat. Sometimes she didn't know what to make of this Draco but she was having a rather good time figuring him out along the way.

"Don't look so dejected. I wouldn't honestly punish myself as well," she told him as she scanned the shelf of books. "After all, you put on quite the performance last night…and again this morning." She paused and reached for a particular book with a wide smile. "Oh, that's the book I've been looking for. Did you know about the involvement of the centaurs during the Goblin Wars?"

Draco shifted her book into one arm and moved to stand flush at her back. "You're an evil little witch, Hermione Granger," he whispered in her ear, "And yet every time you open that pretty little mouth of yours and start spouting something you read from a book, I get so bloody turned on that I nearly can't stand it."

She bit her lip, her back still to him, as a grin threatened to grace her mouth.

"Far cry from your reaction in school then," she muttered back.

"For the first six years, perhaps."

Hermione whirled around to face him, another book clutched to her chest. "You're not serious."

He shrugged with a confident smirk. "Just because I didn't know what I was feeling yet didn't mean I wasn't inexplicably attracted to you." He glanced around them to make sure they were still alone and leaned down closer. "You don't still have one of your school uniforms, do you?"

Merlin, sleeping with the man had unlocked any last reservations he had around her apparently.

She stared at him slack jawed for a moment, likely turning as red as one of the Weasley's hair before he grinned and she knew he'd been teasing her.

"Merlin, Draco, I thought you were serious," she slapped his arm and placed the book on top of the stack he was holding.

He chuckled and grinned at how pink she'd turned. "I was only joking…mostly. I did enjoy watching the way your skirt swished as you practically ran from class to class."

He couldn't deny how wonderful it was to finally feel comfortable around her, knowing she wasn't judging him—or worse, hating him. He'd given every part of himself over to her and she'd finally accepted.

"You're horrible," she admonished but he knew she wasn't serious because she followed the reproach with a kiss.

Draco followed his wife dutifully from shelf to shelf, her stack of books quickly growing. He added one or two of his own and accidentally overheard the conversation of two matronly witches while he searched the charms section for resource material.

"Merlin's Beard," one of them whispered a bit too loudly to her friend as she eyed them indiscreetly."Have you noticed the way he's doting on her?"

"I did! I've been trying not to be too obvious."

Draco fought the laughter bubbling in his chest. They'd been terribly obvious but he was trying not to be rude and call them out on it. Typical Hermione, she hadn't noticed in her book-infused euphoria but he certainly had.

"I was skeptical when I first read about them in Rita Skeeter's article. It was in the Malfoy Manor that she was tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange, you know."

"Indeed? Rumor was that he wasn't too nice to her at Hogwarts. Seems he's had quite the change of heart then."

"Dare I say, I believe they're in love. I swear it, that's a look of love on that young man's face. Same way my Peter first looked at me."

"Only now he gives you that look when you're brandishing pumpkin pasties and a butterbeer," she joked.

"Ugh, horrible man. Don't know why I married him now."

"Love of course. Oh, can you just imagine the children flooding the halls of Hogwarts again in eleven or twelve years from now."

"If those two are any indication, I believe you're right. What beautiful children they'll have—what with those pretty curls and his eyes."

Draco lost track of their conversation as he rounded the corner to catch up with Hermione. He shook his head in amusement. At least that gossip was positive. In fact, he seemed to be getting fewer glares at the Ministry lately. At least from the women. Some men still seemed to hate that he'd been the one matched with Hermione.

"There you are," Hermione announced as he rounded the corner. She'd added three more books to her stack since he last saw her five minutes ago.

"Sorry, picked up one or two of my own."

"No problem. Are you ready?"

He nodded and took her stack with him as he followed her to the register, admiring the view from behind. He should have felt a bit lecherous but he remembered they were married and he was allowed to look. Besides, he'd seen it and all of her glory in the shower that morning.

They returned home by floo and found Bitsy setting out tea for them on the coffee table in the living room.

"Are we expecting more company," Draco asked uncertainly as he set the two heavy packages down in an armchair.

Bitsy handed him a letter as she wrung her hands. "Seems so, Master Draco. Bitsy was just getting ready to go to Diagon Alley to find you. Master Harry sent Bitsy a letter first when he couldn't find you after your lunch."

Draco lowered the letter so Hermione could read over his shoulder and he couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter at the words on the page.

"Dragon's Weed infestation," Hermione asked. She nudged him with a reproachful look when all he did was laugh.

"Sorry, I remember Longbottom bringing one over for Ginny a few months ago when I was over there. Something about using it for scrapes from the quidditch pitch."

"I've read that if they die and decompose the seedlings inside can overtake a space within mere hours."

Draco just shook his head, a smirk still on his lips. "Bitsy, please prepare a guest room. It seems we'll be having the Potter's staying over tonight while a wizarding exterminator sprays for the Dragon's Weed seedlings."

"Most certainly, sir," she grinned and was off with a loud crack.