A/N: The only eyes that have proofread this are mine. As are all errors.

Symbiosis

"Can you feel the connection? We breathe so that the trees thrive and the trees breathe so that we are able to live. Perfect symbiosis…" ― Sanchita Pandey

Well, now she'd done it. Ron always said there would come a time when she would mess up. When her intellect would fail her and she would make a stupid mistake. He liked to remind her that his opinion was based on Newton's third law; that for every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction.

She told him not to be ridiculous. Physics had nothing to do with her intellect or personal choices. But he wasn't buying it.

"You've never made a wrong step, 'Mione," he would say. "You've been as close to perfect as anyone I know. But one day, the odds are going to catch up with you. The pendulum will swing back and you'll bugger up something spectacularly."

Before, she'd always ignored him when he brought it up. The ministry should have never allowed Arthur to bring home muggle textbooks on subjects they knew nothing about. But now…

Maybe Ron had a point.

Looking down, she found still clutched in her hand the vellum invitation that had doubled as a token, allowing her to pass through the wards. She felt it was judging her now, the prissy little card with its fancy curly cues, flawless penmanship and embossed silver design. Who in the heck flaunted ostentation to this degree for a midweek invite for biscuits and beverage?

The Malfoys, that's who.

Did Hermione want to be there? Not really. But something urged her on. Perhaps it was her insatiable curiosity. Or maybe boredom. Maybe she was finding postwar life a bit too tame. A bit too predictable.

And more than a fair bit lonely.

Don't be stupid, she told herself. A normal life in the wizarding world was what she'd always wanted, what she'd ached to have...what she had literally fought for.

Even so...

Had she, without realizing it, become an adrenaline junkie? Had the flavor of war made the fare of regular life taste bland? Hermione snorted at the thought. She wasn't crazy. She'd had enough chills and thrills to last a lifetime. Running madly for one's life and desperately hanging on to the back of a wild dragon as it flew across England were not the sort of adventures she would care to repeat. Neither was being carved up like a jack o'lantern by a demonic sadist …... in this very house, in fact.

Crap. She hadn't meant to call up that memory. Not today and especially not here. A flash of panic, her old wartime friend, shot though her. Hermione swallowed heavily. She looked around the room, suddenly realizing it had no doors or windows; the fireplace where she'd flooed in was her only escape. And such a small space...good Godric, why is this room so TINY?

She began to feel the familiar tendrils of claustrophobia curling around her imagination, making the air in the room feel too heavy for her lungs; she shakily drew in breath after breath, but it didn't feel like she was getting enough oxygen. Pressure, like a heavy hand, pushed against her chest; she began to feel lightheaded. Her heart began to race like a horse at the Grand National.

Double Crap.

The last thing she needed was Narcissa and Draco finding her sprawled out on the floor in a dead faint.

I take it back. I like boredom. Boredom is good.

She knew she was close to hyperventilating.

Okay, got to calm down. Got to calm down NOW. Where's a paper bag when you need one?

The only thing she had was her invitation. She stared down at it.

If I thought you useless before, I really think so now, you jumped-up piece of cardstock.

Well, there was nothing for it. She had no other option; she would have to pep talk her way out of this panic attack.

Get a grip, she commanded herself. Relax. Bellatrix is dead. Lucius is in Azkaban. The other two are harmless.

Nevertheless, her body fought against her. It was too used to the fight or flight reflex.

Her mind clamped down hard. Enough! Narcissa invited you herself. High teas are not synomous with murder and mayhem, even with this lot of pretentious purebloods. Surely my bloodstains in the one room are keepsake enough for them. Besides, if they had wanted me dead, they would have already done it.

That was true. She'd been standing in the foyer several minutes now.

Hmm...odd, that. Maybe they changed their mind about having me. Wouldn't put it past them.

Hermione had just decided to grab a handful of floo powder and haul it out of there when a pop alerted her to another presence. Whirling around, she saw her former bully standing before her. He was painfully uncomfortable, that was obvious. But why? Did he think she would hex him?

Should I?

"Hullo, Grang….um, I mean Hermione," he said, stumbling a bit at her name. Still, it sounded rather nice when he said it. She decided a posh, aristocratic accent was good for something after all, if only to make an absurdly ridiculous name sound pleasant to one's ears.

Ignoring the strange thrill in her stomach his voice had caused (I really must get out more), she replied, "Hello, Draco. Thank you for inviting me."

Her casual tone seemed to free him from his awkwardness. Grinning, he admitted, "I'm afraid that was my mother's doing. But for once, I find I don't mind her meddling."

That tidbit of information caused Hermione to pause. Meddling? What is that supposed to mean?

Holding out his arm, he said, "Shall we?"

She hesitantly placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Immediately, a door appeared, opening for them automatically. Hermione's brow rose. "Well, that's new. I don't believe I know that spell."

"That's because it's not a spell. However, the magic should be familiar to you. You've seen it before."

"Oh? Where was that?"

He smiled. "At Hogwarts. Long ago, centuries in fact, awareness was woven into all the ancient seats of power. This manor was one of them. Hogwarts was another. Surely you noticed that while you were there. Walls jumping out of your way, staircases moving to give you a shortcut…..even books you might need jumping from the shelves into your hand. Didn't you ever wonder about it?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. But I couldn't find anything about it in Hogwarts, A History, so I thought it was just how things were in the magical world."

Draco shook his head. "If that was true, you would have seen it in the shops at Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, but you didn't, did you? And no, magic of this kind won't be found in any book. Enchantments such as these are too old; they predate the printed page and were handed down orally. But now, the bestowing of sentience is a bygone art, an ability lost to antiquity. Perhaps it's for the best, though."

"I fail to see how losing that particular bit of knowledge could be beneficial."

"Because it can be a bloody nuisance sometimes."

"Nuisance? How could doors opening for you ever be a nuisance?"

Surprising her, Draco gave her a wink. "What if I had wanted a moment alone with a beautiful witch? Magic just deprived me of it."

Hermione's cheeks blushed roses at his remark. As far as flirtations went, it was a mild one, but Hermione wasn't used to the type of flattery other girls received. For some reason, wizards had always given her a wide berth. She had thought it was because she wasn't attractive to the opposite sex, but a candid talk with Harry and Ron dispelled her of that notion.

"You're lovely, 'Mione," Ron had tried to assure her one day during the war when it had been her turn to wear the horcrux. She had been fighting a feeling of worthlessness and had confessed to her friends that she felt ugly and unwanted.

"You're the prettiest witch I know," Harry nodded, agreeing with his friend. "Even more than Ginny, and that's saying something."

Hermione wasn't convinced. "Oh really? Well, maybe I'm missing it, but I thought blokes flirted with the pretty girls."

"No, they flirt with the easy ones," Ron snickered.

"Ah...I see. Well then, that makes sixth year with you and Lavender easier to understand." It had been a snide remark, but it had been worth it seeing Ron's ears go red and hearing Harry's belly laugh.

"Don't deny it mate, you know it's true."

Ron gave his hand a dismissive wave. "Just sowing some wild oats. Believe me, it didn't take long for me to reach my fill. She was embarrassing."

"Kind of like this conversation," Hermione said drolly. "Look, I appreciate what you both are trying to do, but I'm just not the type of girl wizards go for. I've accepted that. This blasted horcrux just makes it harder, that's all."

Ron shook his head. Hermione may have been brilliant in most things, but when it came to understanding men, she was clueless. And stubborn. But he knew better than to say anything more. Harry would have better luck with her than he would.

As if in response to Ron's thoughts, Harry reached out and took Hermione's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're wrong, 'Mione, but I can tell you aren't ready to accept that. The truth is, guys don't chat you up because you intimidate the heck out of them. You're too pretty, too smart, too powerful. They feel out of their depth. But mark my words, one day a wizard…...a strong one, mind you…. will seek you out. He will recognize your value and will not be satisfied with anyone else. One day, you'll meet your match and you'll be glad you were spared from all the blokes who weren't worth your time."

Glancing up at Draco, Hermione recalled Harry's words and wondered. Draco's magic is strong. And he was definitely flirting. But I wouldn't classify that as 'seeking me out'. Surely he would never be interested in me, the mudblood…..especially if he had seen my earlier freakout. But at least I'm not panicking anymore. His teasing did that much, at least.

"Here we are," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione looked up and gasped. "Oh, my," she breathed as she took in the sight before her.

"Nice, isn't it?"

She nodded. "It's stunning."

Together, they strolled into a room that was a cross between a great hall and drawing room. The high ceiling had to measure at least seven meters from the floor, and the floor itself reminded Hermione of a giant chessboard with polished white and black marble. Portraits and bookcases were squeezed side by side along the back wall. Right in front of them, bay windows opened to the south gardens where a showcase of autumn splendor was seen in the bright gold and russet chrysanthemums. Narcissa Malfoy rose from a comfortable chair by the fireplace.

"Welcome, Miss Granger," she said with an easy smile, extending her hand. "I'm so pleased that you accepted our invitation."

Hermione reached out to take the proffered arm before realizing the hated vellum card was still clutched in her hand. Narcissa looked down, momentarily confused, when her fingers, instead of touching skin, wrapped around a sad ball of crumpled paper. A very familiar-looking one. Hermione hastily took back the wrinkled note and shoved it into her pocket. Then she shook the older witch's hand while wishing the floor would open and swallow her whole. She knew her face was flaming with mortification; thankfully, Narcissa had the good grace and breeding not to laugh in her face, although she could see Draco smirking out of the corner of her eye. Clearing her throat, she decided to pretend it hadn't happened. Pretense being something the two of you should be comfortable with, she thought cattily. "It was very kind of you to invite me. You have a lovely home."

"Yes, well…..it's becoming that way, I hope. Draco, we must later show Miss Granger the remodeled rooms. I think you'll like them, dear. Other areas of our home are a work in progress. Dark magic impedes the improvements. But such is life, is it not? Some renovations take longer than others. However once they're done, it's easy to see they were worth the time and effort."

Hermione could tell there was a hidden message there, but didn't quite know how to respond. She'd always believed puzzles were better as a game than a means of communication; regardless, she took a seat on the sofa beside Draco and nodded when he offered to pour her tea.

"One lump or two?"

Hermione didn't notice that both mother and son waited intently for her answer.

"Two. It's my guilty pleasure. Sugar, that is. Since the war, I find I crave it."

She didn't understand it when Draco turned red and Narcissa chuckled, amusement evident on her face. "Nothing to feel guilty about, my dear. Sugar is one thing we keep on hand. Draco can't live without it."

"Mother," he almost growled.

"I remember that," Hermione said, grinning cheekily at the young wizard. "Not that I blame you. Hogwarts had the best desserts. Harry favored the treacle tarts, but you preferred…..banoffee pie, wasn't it? Oh, except for when bavarian apple torte was served." She turned to Narcissa. "They served it every Halloween."

"They served it on more days than the one," Draco countered.

"Well, yes….I suppose they did. But that's the day I remember, because you would be such a pig about it," Hermione laughed and winked at Draco so he would know she was just teasing him. "You were far worse than Greg Goyle, and that was a feat I didn't think possible." Then she turned to Narcissa, impish delight in her eyes, "The tables would always be laden with treats of every variety at Halloween, but this one," she pointed at Draco, "would ignore everything but the torte. A bet went around Gryffindor table one year as to how many slices he would eat before throwing up."

"You didn't!"

"I assure you we did. But we were all disappointed, because you somehow kept it down."

During this exchange, Narcissa watched the two playfully banter back and forth. Had they been paying attention, they would have noticed her eyes taking on a suspicious shimmer, happy tears being something she'd not had much practice concealing. With a subtle hand she disposed of the tell-tale moisture. Then taking a sip of her tea, she slyly murmured, "Did you make it a habit to watch my son often, Miss Granger?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. Draco chuckled and whispered, "Won't do any good to fib, because I know you did. I caught you at it often enough."

"Well, that must have been because you were watching me, too," she shot back, barely refraining from sticking her tongue out at the smug blonde. For a moment they stared at the other; then they broke out into laughter.

Narcissa joined them. "Touché, my dear. I'm glad to see you know never to let a wizard have the last word."

After that, conversation drifted to the usual topics; the standard niceties regarding the weather, upcoming festivals, the fine texture of the watercress sandwiches or even the precise hotness of a perfect cup of tea. While they ate and drank, Hermione studied the pair sitting beside her, especially Draco. She'd not seen him since his trial the past summer. That had been months ago. He'd looked like a scarecrow then, all pointy jaw, thin limbs and tortured expression, the purplish bags under his eyes bespeaking months of little sleep while clenched jaws indicated a level of stress beyond his ability to cope. Even with that, it had been an improvement from how he'd been during the war. Now he looked fit (very fit) and well rested. He'd ditched the black suits for something more casual; today, it was a cream colored jumper with matching trousers. And there was something else…..something different about him. Hermione scrambled to think of what it was, but it eluded her.

After their well-appointed tea, she joined mother and son as they led her through areas of the manor that had seen a major overhaul. For a time Hermione forgot where she was and enjoyed seeing the beauty of the architecture. Rich wood panels, lush carpets and light colors had turned the former gloomy mansion into a thing of beauty.

Just as transformed as the new master of the house.

During her tour, no one mentioned the elephant following them; Hermione's torture in their parlour. She wondered where the room was located and prayed they would have the sense not to take her near it. Finally, Narcissa turned to the couple and said to Draco, "Darling, why don't you show Miss Granger the gardens?"

"Hermione. Please call me Hermione."

Narcissa's face broke out into a wreath of smiles. So did Draco's; he didn't even try to hide it. The older witch cupped Hermione's face with her hand and gave her a motherly kiss on the cheek. "Hermione. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness to our family."

"But I haven't done anything," she protested. "Well, except polish off the remainder of your sandwiches."

Merlin, Ron has been a bad influence on me.

Narcissa actually laughed out loud, her eyes crinkling adorably.

"Dear girl, you've done far more than that. Trust me."

Hermione was still puzzling over that remark when Narcissa said, "The gardens, my Dragon. Don't forget."

Once more, Draco held out his arm. This time, Hermione had no reluctance in taking it, but was very much surprised when he placed his larger hand on top of hers.

"Our lawns are vast, but there is a spot that's become my particular favorite. It's a bit further on, just on the edge of our western border. I hate to ask it of you, but would you mind walking there first? I would like for you to see it before moonrise."

"No. Not at all." Curiosity as to what Draco might like best overtook her, and while they ambled along, Hermione enjoyed the crisp air and the amber glow of the harvest sunset. A rare feeling of peace settled within. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her companion. It was strange that she would feel so at home with her former tormentor, but she did. Taking a chance, she gently leaned her head against Draco's shoulder while he was describing their woods beyond the gardens. She felt it when he sucked in a surprised breath; she felt it more when his hand tightened around hers. But all he said was, "Are you growing tired? We can do this another time if you wish."

Another time? Was he thinking of other times? Hermione unconsciously tightened her hold on his arm, snuggling even closer to his side. "I'm fine. This is perfect, actually."

The timbre of his voice mellowed into the softest velvet when he murmured, "Yes…..yes, it is."

She wondered if he knew she had heard him.

A few minutes of companionable silence followed until Hermione felt Draco stop.

"We're here," he said.

She looked around but didn't see anything remarkable. Certainly nothing that would warrant the long trek. Looking up, she saw him watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. She figured a direct approach was best.

"What did you want me to see?"

"There's a bench over there," he hedged, nodding toward a clump of rowan trees. "Let's sit for a moment."

A yew wood settee rested beside the small pond that was now colored burnt orange from the last light of the sun. Hermione sat down and Draco followed, nearly sitting on top of her in his haste. Something was up; she could sense his sudden nervousness and wondered what could have happened between their tea and walk that would have put him in such a state.

"So…..?"

He ignored the question.

"I promise I don't bite," she said, trying to put him at ease. It didn't help. "Hey…..I was joking. I can bite if you want me to." That was the most blatantly flirtatious thing Hermione had ever said, and he still didn't react. She sighed. Her skills with the opposite sex were truly abysmal. Finally, she asked, "Draco, what's wrong?"

"I…." was all he got out before he started bouncing his leg, the vibrations of it jiggling her.

She gave his knee a squeeze, mainly to stop the motion. Ugh, she was really beginning to regret those sandwiches.

"Come on, Draco. Whatever it is can't be worse than what we've already gone through."

He gave her a strange look. "You may change your mind after I tell you."

Startled, she asked, "Is it that bad?"

"Well, no. At least, I don't think it is…..but you may have a different opinion."

"It'll be okay. Just tell me."

Draco gave her an intense stare, all the more confusing because of the vulnerability underlying it; then he nodded, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves. "After the trials, I had nothing better to do than wonder how things had gone so wrong in my life. I'd been born to privilege and had everything the world holds dear…...but I was shattered, Hermione. So was my home." He looked away, swallowing hard. "My father was kissed before I was acquitted. I…..I never got the chance to tell him goodbye."

Hermione's tender heart ached at the pain in his voice. Without thinking, she reached for him, wrapping her arm around him in a show of support.

"I know what you may have thought of him, and I don't blame you for thinking it, but to me he'd been a rock. A supportive father. He'd always taken care of me and my mother, and now….."

"...he was gone," she finished for him.

He nodded, unable to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Draco."

He bowed his head, unable to stop his grief. Hermione began to rub his back in a slow, comforting pattern and patiently waited; she had no intention of rushing him. If Draco was anything like Harry, he would continue as soon as he got his emotions under control. A few moments later he sat up, wiped his eyes with his sleeve and blew out a large breath.

"Sorry. Anyhow….I knew it was now up to me to figure things out. To begin the healing of my home. But I didn't know where to start. Voldemort's power had infiltrated everything. Our family magicks had been violated."

"Well, you must have done something right, because it seems fully restored now. Truly Draco, I've never seen such a beautiful home and grounds. You should be proud."

"You like it here?" The look in his eyes was strangely hopeful.

"Of course. Who wouldn't?" She gave his shoulder a playful bump. "Now tell me how you did it."

He gave her a wry smile. "If you only knew…..it was you, Hermione. You did it."

Wait. What? Had she heard him correctly?

"But….but how?" she spluttered.

He lifted a strand of her hair, the curl of it wrapping around his finger. She watched, gobsmacked, as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. Draco couldn't help but chuckle at her stunned expression. "I owe you so much."

"Ah…..if you would just explain why you did that, we'll call it even, okay?"

He gave her a wink. "Yes, Ma'am." Giving her hair a playful tug, he let go. "It just so happens that both your questions have the same answer. Remember what I told you about ancient seats of power being given sentience?"

She nodded.

"Well, it actually goes a bit deeper. The power of that magic comes from a relationship to the family it belongs and a connection to their land."

"Symbiosis," she murmured to herself. She'd often wondered why Draco was so taken with his home. When they were younger, he could be heard constantly nattering on about it. She'd thought he'd just been bragging, but now she realized it might have been something more.

"That's right," he said, pleased she'd understood. Then he chided himself. This was Hermione Granger. Of course, she would understand.

"Does it work that way with all the ancient seats?"

"No wonder you were always first in our class. You really are brilliant, aren't you?" he said with unmistakable admiration. "Always asking the right question. So, the answer is: not exactly. You've probably already figured out Hogwarts is a bit different. Instead of a family, the bond is with the Headmaster. That's why Dumbledore seemed so bloody omniscient. The symbiotic relationship he shared with the castle and grounds allowed him to know everything that went on."

"You know, I had wondered about that. I always did think that twinkle in his eye was telling. The joke was on us, and he was forever having a laugh at our expense."

Draco chuckled. "Too right. The students could never pull one over on him." Then his face fell. "Even when they were ordered to."

For a few moments neither broke the quiet.

Then he said, "Well, getting back to the manor...things changed when Voldemort returned. When he moved in, our home was thrown into turmoil. It could sense my father's allegiance to the Dark Lord and was confused by what it considered a rejection. The land began to grieve. Flowers wilted. A few of my mother's prized cherry trees died. In the house, Mother and I could feel the difference immediately, even in the rooms the Dark Lord never used. The relationship, our bond with the manor was failing. Still, I think it would have recovered on its own if Voldemort hadn't betrayed it."

"What did he do?"

Draco's face darkened, his grey eyes showing the fury he still felt. "He cast a spell to cut its magic off from the ley lines that fed it."

"But…..why? What purpose would that serve?"

"He told us it was punishment for my father's failure at the ministry. But that was just an excuse. The monster had planned it all along…...he did it deliberately, Hermione. For all his talk of restoring Purebloods to their rightful place, what he actually intended was to crush us under his feet. In his eyes, that was our rightful place. From the beginning, he planned our downfall; one great house after another, toppling like a row of dominoes. He wanted our money, our lands…..but not the families that came with it. It was all just a scam.

So now our home was doomed. Do you understand what I'm saying? Malfoy House was dying. Not just the magic of the manor. Our line."

Hermione gasped, realizing the implication. She had seen from sixth year on that Draco seemed sick…..weak…..hopeless. No wonder.

He'd been dying.

"How did you escape it?"

"That's just it. I couldn't escape and wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for that day when you were captured. When….."

Hermione stiffened. The proverbial elephant that had followed them around all afternoon must have grown tired of being ignored. It began to trumpet. Loudly.

"When I was tortured," she supplied in a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, his voice just as soft, "When your blood soaked into the wood and walls…..something happened."

Hermione felt the coolness of the breeze hitting her tears. She didn't know she'd started to cry. She began to wipe them away, but Draco stopped her. "Please...let me."

Then in a move that shocked her, he bent his head and tenderly kissed the tears from her cheeks.

"You saved my family, Hermione," he whispered against her skin. "You saved me."

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with the sensation his mouth was creating. "Draco..." she whimpered. She didn't know how she could have saved his family, but she wasn't going to argue as long as he kept doing that.

Unfortunately, he stopped, but only to pull her closer. Hermione's head now rested against his chest. She could hear the steady beat of his heart.

"When your blood was spilled that day," he murmured against her curls, "it allowed the manor to recognize you. It knew you were the hope we needed…...the mother of all future Malfoys."

Whoa. Stop. Did I hear that right? she wondered. But all she said was, "How could you possibly know what the manor was thinking?"

The smile he gave her did strange things to her insides. "Weren't you listening when I told you about the headmaster?"

She stared at him, puzzled, until the dots connected in her mind. "When you became the head of your family this summer….."

"The manor's secrets became mine."

Hermione stared, wide-eyed at the blonde. "Blimey."

Draco couldn't help but grin at her expression. "Once the manor recognized we had a chance for a future, it rose up to fight for it."

Hold on. She didn't recall that. "Not to be rude, but I don't see how your house can claim it fought for me unless it had something to do with Dobby getting through the wards."

"No, no. You don't understand. If it hadn't been for the manor, you would have never escaped."

Hermione snorted, she couldn't help it. "Oh, please. Is that what it told you?"

His grip tightened around her and in his eyes she saw a look that was very reminiscent of a younger Draco. Aha…..so he does still have a bit of temper. I'm glad; proves the war didn't break his spirit.

"Do you think a mere house elf would have been able to vandalize an ancient home? Their magic doesn't work that way, especially against a family they'd once been bonded to." He let that sink in for a moment, then said, "Dobby didn't cause the chandelier to fall that day. Our home did that to itself. It was trying to save you."

He watched as the bomb he'd delivered detonated in Hermione's brain. Her jaw literally dropped. Someone had finally found the pause button to her busy mind, for every other question she'd had on the tip of her tongue stilled.

Taking advantage of the silence, he said, "I didn't realize what had happened then, of course. I didn't understand until I started receiving psychic messages from the bond. I began to dream. One night, I dreamt of this pond. I felt the bond urging me to cast into the waters.

"Did you?"

He nodded.

"What did you see?"

"I saw us. This moment. I saw me telling you all this. What I couldn't see was your reaction."

"Well…..I….."

"Listen, Hermione," he interrupted. "I know what you must be thinking. Don't think I don't see the irony. Of all the things I held against you, it was your blood I belittled the most. Yet it turned out to be the very thing that healed us. Did you know it was after it received your blood that the manor was able to reconnect to the ley lines? That's how powerful you are. And to think that at one time I was convinced you …..you weren't…..." His voice faltered even as his eyes stared into hers, begging her to understand what he had no words to say. Cupping her face, he whispered, "Please…..please forgive me."

He kissed her then, a tender and almost worshipful caress that had Hermione's pulse racing in overtime. She returned it, suddenly filled with desire for this wonderfully changed man.

"I know I don't deserve you. I know. I was horrible to you, and I wouldn't blame you if you rejected me. But I promise, if you would give me a chance…...just a chance, that's all I'm asking…...I promise I will do everything I can to make you happy."

"But what of your happiness, Draco?" she asked softly, her fingertips tracing his cheekbone. "If it progressed to it, could you be happy with a muggleborn wife?"

"If she were you, I could."

Well. That was sweet. Even more so because Draco meant it. She could tell. But Hermione needed more than that.

"I don't want a loveless marriage. Do you think you could learn to love me?"

He didn't bat an eye. "I've already started."

Hermione sucked in a breath. Merlin, he's serious. Will wonders never cease?

She couldn't remember a time when she'd had so many surprises in a single day.

"I think the real question is whether you could ever care for me. If you would even be interested in trying. Would you?" he whispered.

Draco's heart was in his eyes and they pleaded eloquently. Hermione foresaw future trouble with that; how would she ever be able to tell him no? Taking in his handsome features, she remembered Harry's words when they'd been on the run and also remembered the awful day of their capture, although now seen in a different light. Funny, her mind was no longer panicking at the memory. Leaning over, she brushed her lips against his. "I say let's go for it."

Draco's ensuing laughter was not the loudest she'd ever heard, but it was the happiest, because it showcased how utterly grateful he was.

They kissed once more, this one leaving them with no doubts as to the rightness of their decision. Together they both felt it when something settled deep in their hearts. They didn't see it when the first stars appeared, nor when the moon finally rose to cast its faint light on the romantic tableau they had created; neither did they see Narcissa's beatific smile when they finally re-entered the manor, arm in arm. Apparently, the two had been in the middle of a discussion, for Narcissa could hear Draco saying, "Because, I just know. The foundation of the manor was inlaid with rubies. Rubies, Hermione. Mother and I found that out when we started with the renovations. They had been added to ensure future endurance." He snorted then and said, "Wouldn't you know, it would be a Gryffindor gemstone and lioness that would save a Slytherin House."

"Malfoy House might not stay Slytherin if I'm the future of it," she quipped.

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it. The witch by his side was beautiful and powerful, but she was also undeniably a little firecracker.

He gave her another kiss just to shut her up.

While this was going on, Narcissa quietly called for Neecie, her favorite elf, and asked her to add an extra plate for dinner that evening. "Actually, you might want to go ahead and plan an extra place for all meals going forward," she whispered so Hermione wouldn't hear.

Neecie grinned and nodded. "We knows who she is. She's to be our new young Mistress. Young Master picked a pretty wife..and we knows pretty babies will follow!"

As if in tandem, she and Narcissa glanced over at the two lovebirds. They were still at it, happily snogging away, oblivious to anything else.

"Should Neecie tell Binks to skip dessert? Seeing as young miss and master are having their sweets now?" she snickered.

Narcissa couldn't hold back a grin. "No, better keep it on the menu. Those two have an insatiable sweet tooth."

A/N: I thought my writing days were over, then this happened. It felt good to create again.

When I was in my early 30's, I had a series of panic attacks. They scared the be-jeebers out of me at first, but I learned how to manage them. I found if I changed my what if's to so what's they lost their power. Humor is a great tool to fight fear. Riddikulus works, folks. And on more than just boggarts.

Bavarian Apple Torte is one of the best desserts on earth. The flavor combination of sweet cream butter, cream cheese, tart granny smith apples, toasted almonds, raspberry jam and fresh ground cinnamon….oh Lord, it's so stinking good. I think Draco and I should have a contest to see which one of us can eat the most of it.

I think I would have a good shot at winning.