Special quarantine edition. I hope everyone is safe out there.

P.S. Thank you to everyone who has kept reviewing. I read every single one and it's been such an encouragement to keep writing.

Chapter 43

From the moment he woke up, the day had carried a faint whiff of absurdity in the air. Astoria had planted a kiss on his cheek to remind him she had to go pick up her new dress for tonight's dinner. Draco nodded even though Astoria had already left the bed and he stood rather mechanically letting habit rescue him from paralysis.

The young man ran his hand through his blonde hair looking at his reflection wearily. Little sleep had graced him the night before, nerves keeping him tossing and turning as he ran awkward scenario after awkward scenario in his head. Draco's hand hovered over the seven razors on his counter, the penultimate one floating up to his hand while a boar brush applied a generous layer of lather on his cheeks. He'd been dreading this day since Astoria had persuaded his mother to host a dinner for her and Granger. It was one thing to exchange information and reaffirm uneasy truces while they waited for his mother's potions, which reminded him… Draco knocked back a small gleaming vial, shivering as the poisons snaked through his body with an acidic burn… But it was a whole other thing to be expected to engage in the formal activities of polite society for a whole dinner. A dark silver tie slithered around his neck looping itself into full Windsor knot. What would they even talk about for five courses?

"It's going to be fine, you know?" Astoria said with a reassuring smile as she smartened his tie.

"Of course, darling." He said with pursed lips. "I'm sure we'll all fondly reminisce about our schooldays together. Or perhaps our war days. And if that fails I'm sure conversation of our love of Potter can rescue the day."

Astoria laughed gently, not at all put off by her husband's sarcasm. "Well, if you're nervous, just imagine how nervous she must be, but it will do you both good. You'll see." Draco huffed in response as he fiddled with his cufflinks. "If this ends disastrously I am taking no responsibility."

"Yes, yes," Astoria said appeasingly.

The day trudged on both painfully slow yet terrifyingly quickly. Before he knew it Draco was once more fiddling with his cufflinks whilst he finished arranging his dinning robes. Just as he sat in his favourite chair in the parlour the ancient doorbell rang announcing the arrival of his guests. For a moment Draco was transported back in time to the last time that doorbell had rang with Granger behind it. Dread filled his body as he waited for his aunt's cackle of magic to fill the room or for Greyback's stench to reach him. Instead he felt a warm squeeze belonging to his wife bringing him back to the present.

The door opened and he stood up automatically, bending his head down to the floor respectfully while he felt his heart beating up to his throat. His mother's shoes appeared in his field of vision and in a second her hand had cupped his cheek lifting his face to kiss the other side. "Thank you for having us, Draco." She said sincerely, her eyes sparkling with joy. He smiled at her, relaxing ever so slightly at the tenderness in her expression.

She took a step back revealing the younger witch in muted gold and blue robes. Their eyes locked and both seemed terrified by the sight of the other. Draco took a tentative step towards her and Hermione reciprocated. In a further wave of absurdity he could almost hear his father hissing "Manners!" at him before smacking him on the back of the head. It was his turn to extend his hand to her.

"Thank you for coming, Granger." He said awkwardly as they shook hands.

"Pleasure, Malfoy." She replied. The other two witches exchanged amused eye rolls and sat down. "The flowers outside look beautiful," Hermione offered nervously.

"Thank you!" Astoria said delightedly. "I've always been rather passionate about Herbology. Mummy hated me getting my hands muddy but that's part of the satisfaction. Do you grow yourself?"

Hermione looked a little shy under the attention of the three Slytherins. "I've always toyed with the idea of growing some of my own stuff for potions but the space in Grimmauld Place isn't very inviting, so I've never got around to it."

"Oh, you know what you should start on then?…"

Draco reached out to grab a glass that had just popped on a silver tray in the middle of their circle. The elves were under strict instruction to keep the drinks flowing throughout the evening, a small mercy he figured he wouldn't be alone in appreciating, especially as Granger nervously gulped down half her flute while Astoria and Narcissa commented on indoor plants. With sardonic amusement he noticed that everyone had made the deliberate choice to avoid house colours, he wondered what that said about them.

The Gryffindor was actually sitting in his aunt's usual chair. It was absurd what a few years and a number of choices could do, Draco thought to himself. The last time Granger had been in this room he'd been convinced none of them would make it out alive; and with the way Granger sat with her back ram rod straight in attention he imagined she was thinking about that too. Draco almost felt pity for the girl in front of him, he knew how difficult it was to feel enclosed by the same black wooden panels that had once witnessed your screams. The pity stopped short when he remembered the circumstances that precipitated the occasion. Even as the two witches sat in front of him his mind still couldn't really wrap itself around the idea that they were together. He kept expecting one or both to jump and scream 'April Fools!' An occurrence that would make much more sense even though April was more than a quarter year past.

Once all glasses had been emptied a crystal ball on the mantlepiece glowed twice indicating a move to the dinning hall was in order. Draco watched his mother stand up, a renewed joy colouring her graceful movements as she offered her hand to Hermione. A pang of sadness struck his stomach as he failed to remember the last time his father had made her smile like that. Draco leaned onto his cane as they shuffled into the dinning room. The chandeliers shone brightly letting light bounce on the stone columns, and he sat at the head of the table where the Dark Lord once sat. His father had made a point of reclaiming the seat and Draco was intent on honouring that wish no matter how uncomfortable it made him… because if he was being honest, a small, scared part of him believed the wood was somehow different after the Dark Lord's touch; but the chair was his birthright, so that was that.

Draco sneaked a glance at the Gryffindor, noticing the way her eyes darted around the room nervously. The porcelain bowls filled with steaming soup that spread a warming smell that was almost comforting. Her tension was even evident in the uncertain way she held her silver spoon. Guilt flooded his chest. Astoria was right, he was not the most uncomfortable person in the room. Draco took a sip of the soup, enjoying the heat that spread through his chest and wondered what he could possibly say that could be considered an olive branch? The table had fallen quiet and he knew everyone felt the rising tension even though they were all making a concerted effort to seem engrossed by their soup. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't be expected to conjure confetti her way and he didn't actually know her beyond the insufferable know-it-all that always dominated attention in class. Well… there was something in that department she could help settle.

"Granger," He began as neutrally as possible. All three sets of eyes shot to him. "There's something I've always wondered about…" Hermione cocked her head slightly waiting for him to continue. "How did you take all those classes in third year?"

Hermione let out a relieved little laugh. "Oh, boy… did everyone notice?"

"That you were in every class?" Draco's tone was sarcastic but none of the bite was there. "You did have a fondness for speaking up."

"But wait," Astoria said scrunching her face in concentration as she did the mental arithmetic. "You couldn't have taken every elective, there isn't enough time."

Hermione flashed the table a conspiratorial grin and seemed to relax a little. "I'm not supposed to tell… And I'm pretty sure Professor McGonagall could still put me in detention but… time-turner. They gave me a time-turner."

Despite themselves, the three Slytherins broke out in a barrage of questions which Hermione seemed amused to answer. By the time the four of them were enjoying their delicately stuffed quails the awkwardness had been significantly reduced and Draco found himself almost enjoying the conversation. Almost. The tentative joy being shared at his father's table tasted bittersweet to him. There was just something about seeing his mother and wife trading sincere smiles over Granger's company that sent something desperate and nostalgic squirming down his throat. Since the start of the week the portrait of his father had vacated his seat and was still nowhere to be seen. The absence in the frame felt doubled at the table and Draco couldn't help but feel like the chair he sat in was too big for him.

"I did actually hunt the quails myself." Draco said in reply to his mother's question. "Now you can't complain I don't get out enough." His mother smiled fondly at him and he let the conversation move away from him. He took a large sip of wine watching the way the three witches swapped anecdotes easily and tried pinning down the source of his sadness. It would be easy to blame Granger, even easier to direct his discomfort through anger at the Gryffindor. His grip on his fork tightened and he forced himself to consider whether he actually would have preferred McLaggen Sr. in Hermione's seat. With an imperceptible sigh he relented - it wouldn't have been that much easier.

Their top plates disappeared leaving the bottom ones empty for the boards of cheese that now filled their end of the table. Draco reached for the Stilton. So this was it. He watched his mother telling Granger to try the Little Dragon by passing her her cheese knife. His father was gone. Intellectually Draco was more than aware that his father had been gone for quite some time now, but as long as his mother remained the solemn widow the door between the present and the past felt cracked open. But here they were, Hermione Granger, of all people, making his mother smile more in one evening than he usually saw her smile in a month. He could almost hear that door slamming shut. Shut to the Christmas mornings when he'd wake up his begrudging parents; shut to his birthday trips to Diagon Alley; shut to the hug they would give him before leaving in September with both sets of arms wrapped tightly around him, his mother's silent tears falling on his collar while the metal of his father's ring accompanied the feel of his fingers being run through his hair.

Draco shook his head forcing his attention back to the dinner. "Dessert, anyone?" Astoria asked cheerfully, tapping her fingers twice on the table making individual cups of chocolate mouse appear in front of everyone. "You know if you need any help getting your birthday celebrations in order, I'd be more than happy to help."

"Thank you, I expect I will." Narcissa replied.

Draco gathered his courage and directed his look at the Gryffindor. "You'll soon be discovering the horrors of trying to buy a gift for my mother." Hermione blushed but seemed comfortable under Draco's attention. "I'm glad it seems I won't be alone in the panic."

"Not at all," he replied, "it's been downhill for me from the day hand drawn cards stopped cutting it." The two of them shared rueful smile.

"Oh, you both make me sound like a harpy!" Narcissa exclaimed with a laugh. "I am not that hard to get presents! And in any case, your company will be more than enough."

"That's what she always says," Draco drawled with mirth. "And that always makes it harder."

"Do you agree with this, Astoria?" Narcissa asked feigning offence.

"Absolutely not, Cissy, no one could possible be any easier to buy a gift for than you…" The beautiful woman bit her lip trying not to laugh but all four quickly broke out in laughter.

"Well, on that note I must thank you both for the wonderful meal," Narcissa said graciously.

"Yes, I really enjoyed it," Hermione added. "It was all lovely."

"The pleasure was ours," Astoria replied, nudging her husband. "Right, Draco?"

Draco jumped in surprise. "Yes, yes, absolutely. Must do it again sometime." Narcissa raised an amused eyebrow at him making him feel like a boy caught breaking vase. "I mean it, mother. I'm glad we did this, Granger." He said nodding his head at her politely. They moved towards the fireplace and he held out the floo powder to them.

"You go on first, Hermione," Narcissa offered gently. The muggleborn took a handful of the powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Grimmauld Place!"

Narcissa pressed her son in a tight hug. "Thank you, Draco," she said earnestly. "That meant a lot to me."

"Of course, mother." His voice was tight but sincere, and he returned the embrace. Narcissa stepped into the fireplace waving goodbye to the young couple as she disappeared in a roar of green fire. Astoria slipped her arms around her husbands waist, hugging him from behind and placing kisses on his neck. "She seems really happy."

"Yeah," he replied noncommittally.

"They both do."

Draco turned around to hug Astoria properly, taking a moment to enjoy the florid smell that hung from her hair. "I-" Draco hesitated saying what was on his mind. "I miss him," he spat out. Astoria grabbed his hand guiding him to the door. "He's not gone" she said reassuringly.

He was about to open his mouth to contradict her but before he could she nodded at the portrait in the hall. Lucius was back in his seat, hands crossed against his chest, head held up high, pretending to be asleep.