Vonne: First off, let me say that I am so sorry that this final chapter (of this part) took so long for me to upload. It's winding down towards the end of everything for me and I've had little to no time to get anything done. That being said, I'm glad that I can finally have this chapter up and running now and that the first chapter to the second part will more than likely be updated in a matter of days, perhaps in a matter of even 48 hours. Anyway, once again to make this clear, this story is NOT over. There are numerous things still left unaddressed that I will be touching up on in the second part, including that of Draco's sanity; his relationship with Hermione, Pansy, Goyle, and his father; his relationship with the Wizarding World; therapy...

And now to get back to all of you. Thanks so much for your following in this story and I sincerely hope that you'll stick with it in the second part! Once again, I appreciate it more than you know and I'm so glad to hear from you after every update, especially those who do so on a consistent time scale. Thank you, thank you. I hope that you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed penning it down for all of you.

Lily18dm: Thank you so much! I'm so glad that you liked it up until the very end! I hope that you enjoy the final chapter (of this part) and I hope to hear from you during the second part!

Dramione1996: Thank you for the review! Though short, I always love hearing from you! :)

WeatherWatch: HA, the word 'baffle' is truly a lovely word. I'll be sure to use it once again just for your sake. :)

Shining Bright Eyes: Oh no! Draco's very far from being out of any woods! Of course, that is why I chose to write a second part of this, just to finish everything up properly. I'm so glad that you're enjoying this and that you plan to come back for the second part! See you there!

Thwarted Moony: Thank you so much! HA, I am so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter. I felt that it was, of course, about time! Thank you for all your reviews- I enjoy reading them. :)

Doni: Thank you! :) I'm glad that you liked the chapter and I hope that it wasn't too, too sad for you. This one is kind of more relaxing, for it will lead into the second part! Anyway, thank you so much for all your reivews. Loved them! :)

Isabella120: HA! Well, thank you! I'm glad you would not want to have me stop there. :) I am so glad that you're enjoying this story so much. I hope you'll be here for the second part, which I am working on RIGHT now.

Anavell: HA, yes, it was always coming, just took a while. :)

Jade2099: Aw, thank you! I'm glad that you liked the last chapter and I hope that you enjoy this concluding one just as much! Ha, and yes, it will probably always be bittersweet with Draco and Hermione. I've never pictured them to have an overly 'love-y' relationship. They've got to be always going back and forth while being fond of one another at the same time. I don't know, it just seems to fit the two much better in that sense, huh? :)

Chapter Thirty:
Expecting Nothing

It was snowing the very first day of winter and Draco Malfoy, who had been at the window for quite some time, found the weather to be rather odd. Of course, he was solely alone in his consideration (for it was winter, after all) however, there was something draining about snow that Draco himself had never noticed before until that very moment. As each white flake dropped down to grace the earth floor with its untainted purity Malfoy thought that perhaps a more suitable weather choice would have been sunshine, for it was the first time in a span of five years that he'd found himself feeling a bit more optimistic.

Nonetheless, his feelings of warmth was a rather foreign feeling to him in particular. He'd never been so content with his days and, furthermore, found his comfort making him a tad bit anxiety prone. Perhaps his happiness was only a limited experience, soon to be diminished by the fate he'd so come to associate himself with. Currently, he'd taken to expecting the worst and, when no such tragedy come to him, he'd figured that it was only a matter of time. After all, he'd never gone more than a couple of hours without something miserable ruining his day and this entire week he'd had, it all seemed too good to be true. Radio in hand, he contemplated giving Hermione a call.

A figure however, tall and slender and beautiful even in shadow, appeared cast on the wall opposite him, stifling away his urges. In the silence of his staring, the presence of his mother quickly invaded his previous peace. She cleared her throat and even the sound of her nerves was a falsely soothing one. She said timidly, "chilly weather we're having, isn't it?" and waited for a response. However, Draco only pushed away the radio, stuffing it underneath himself rather hastily. Then, on impact, he turned around, glanced mildly over his shoulder, and returned his mother's soft expression with an almost identical one. He saw that she was bundled up for the temperature, as if ready to venture outdoors momentarily. Her long blonde hair was up in a tight bun and she wore an elegant and thick white coat over her shoulders.

"It's winter," Draco informed her, but in a quiet tone of voice that was not at all demeaning. In fact, for pointing out something so insanely obvious he felt rather stupid for speaking at all. Though Narcissa seemed not to take notice; she instead nodded simply, fixed her hands together under the white fur at the end of her coat sleeves, and smiled back. The smile was, after all, a brave thing to do; she hadn't heard much of her son for quite some time and held all the right in the world to be angry with him. Draco chose to appreciate her choice to not be anything of the sort. In fact, he rather admired her for her timidness, though he wasn't quite sure he'd deserved it. Nerved by his mother's stillness, Malfoy could clearly make out the sadness behind her seemingly cold eyes. He turned back to the window, sighed simply, and scooted over to make room for her at the window sill.

The sound of his mother's heels echoed against the broad room. However, she seemed uplifted by Draco's welcome and she wasted no time in bringing herself to him. When she finally made it, she positioned herself properly next to him, watching nothing but his pale profile. She sat statuesque, watching the side of her son as he mulled the view through the window inquisitively. Then, uneasily, she lifted out a hand and brushed back the fallen strands of his blond hair, positioning them sweetly behind his ear. Ignoring the fact that her son did not react in the slightest, she managed a smile on her own. "You must be freezing," she said silently, "Look at you mother all bundled up and here you are without any socks on." She seemed utterly freezing just by the look at him seated there, merely in his night clothes, and she tilted her head, waiting for a response.

But, still exteriorly pallor, all she could get out of Draco was simply, "'M fine."

"Nonsense," his mother beamed, her eyes slightly wet for reasons unknown to Draco entirely. "Besides, I bought this for you the other day, when you were... out." Instantly Malfoy knew what she was talking to and he felt a rush of embarrassment flood over him. And why was it that at twenty-two years old Draco Malfoy was still feeling awful about stepping out of his parent's home for two day's time? Perhaps it was the notion that he'd still lived in the Manor that had been bother him. Either way, he sat in silence as his mother pulled out a long olive green scarf from behind her back. She flattened it on her lap and ran her fingers across it before looking back up at him, saying characteristically, "it was very pricey but... only the best for my son." Then, without waiting for any response, she moved herself towards Draco and looped the thing around his shoulders, bundling it up around his neck and resting it finally at his front. Finally, when she'd finished winding the piece around him, she leaned back slightly, and said, "that should help with the weather, then."

The smile she plastered on her pale face was more than obviously a false one. But the Malfoy's were, of course, brilliant actors. Still, watching his mother so desperate for a conversation, Malfoy glanced down at the scarf, saying meekly, "thanks, Mum." Narcissa's face lit up, having relished in the fact that she'd considered the chance that Malfoy had fallen in love with the thing. And, quite honestly, he did like the scarf. Still, for the life of him, he couldn't manage to express the signifiant amount of gratitude he knew his mother deserved. No matter how hard he tried, all that he could offer her was a simple little smile.

"You're very welcome," Narcissa beamed, turning back to the weather. In silence, Draco saw out of the corner of his eye that his mother's smile had started to fade. As quickly as it had come, it seemed almost unable to stay fully put there. Then, uneasily, he turned back to his delirium. Watching the snow hit the ground that spread out across his parent's large lawn had kept his attention for quite some time. Still, that hadn't kept his mother from trying to keep him focus on the other issues at hand. She shifted, fiddling with her slender hands in her lap, and said rather casually, "your father says you were considering returning back to therapy?" Stone-like, Malfoy swallowed. He wasn't in the mood to have such a conversation, but still, he nodded in response to her, feeling a bit more humiliated than he'd ever have wished to. Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed more than uplifted at her son's answer. Her smile returned once again, lighting up her otherwise morose visage.

She dropped the act of analyzing the window entirely and turned to face her son completely, despite the fact that he'd refused to do so himself. Her face reddened with the thrill of it all and yet she seemed to remain still. Hiding her excitement, she calmed herself, allowing her face to regain its natural white color. Then, glancing back over at her son, she said meekly, "I really do think that returning will come of some good use to you, Draco. I think that having someone to talk to is always a good thing."

Malfoy considered this. Hermione was someone he could talk to.

"And, besides," Narcissa continued, beyond joyful, "I think even others can learn from hearing from you, in return. You are so... brilliant, Draco. And you always have been. I've always seen that in you." Pensive, Draco colored himself completely mortified. For one thing, he mother was absolutely incorrect; he, Draco Malfoy, was not at all anything close to brilliant. If he had been, then why was it that he was still stuck in his five year rut? Goyle and Pansy had seemed to turn out okay. Settling on his conclusion of uselessness, he took to taking his mother's compliments with only a grain of salt. Anyway, she was his mother; she had to say things like that.

"So," Draco asked, his voice hoarse and a little rocky, "you think it is a good idea, then?"

Narcissa moved herself forwards once again. Her warm fingers trailed the surface of his bruised eye and she seemed sincerely pained for him. Then, nodding slowly, she said in a whisper, "I think that it is only an option. No one is forcing you to do anything, Draco, remember that. Your father and I want you to go only if you wish to go as well." Draco spotted it head on-- another lie, right there in front of him. Of course, he'd suspected that his mother knew almost nothing of her false statement, even after she'd stated it. But Draco had been too clever not to notice. It was the comment she'd made about his father and his wishes. Of course he'd wanted Draco to return to the therapist's office, whether or not he'd considered such a thing himself. Then again, Lucius Malfoy was rather known for his intelligence; perhaps his father did have a point after all.

And what was this about hearing voices, as well? Sane people should not have been hearing anything of the sort? Even Hermione had seemed taken aback when he'd told her. Uneasy, he considered having to tell a therapist. As a wild chill ran up his spine, Draco Malfoy was sure that he wasn't ready to hear from a professional that there was something far worse going on with him than he'd expected. Was denial the first step? Or was it merely refusal to start denying anything in the first place?

His mother's open inquiry stood before him like an unwanted presence and, even though she hadn't truly asked him anything, he knew that she was waiting for a response. Did he want this, too? The easy answer was no, however, he knew that he needed it. And how could he manage to crush his mother right then? She'd stared at him then, filled with false hope. The pair of her beautiful eyes seemed almost forlorn with the onset of tears. She was almost more fragile than ever and as she watched him carefully, he imagined her tiptoeing across a sheet of thin ice. Shaking his head, telling her 'no', that would only send her falling though his hypothetical iceland. But even saving her, he'd have been merely a liar, rather than anyone heroic. Nonetheless, he chose to lie, for that was something he'd always been wonderful at. So, he nodded, watching his mother's face melt into an expression of childish relief.

"Oh, thank you, Draco," she said, sinking into him, pressing hands at his chin. "I know you will be fine. The future has always been a bright one for you..." With that, Narcissa took to her son's head of light hair, pushing it out of his face as if only to distract herself. Then she smiled, straightening herself up stiffly and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You look so handsome," she told him as she pulled herself up and away from the ledge of the window, patting the cushion she'd been seated on back to its normally flat position. But Draco didn't bother truly accepting his mother's false sense of flattery. Instead, he looked back down at the scarf, and then timidly back at her. He was in his twenties and he still felt like a child. "Your father and I are going to run some errands," she informed him once she'd gathered herself together, "you can come along if you'd like."

The look on her face was set; as if she'd expected him to gather himself together and join them at once. But this time Draco had no choice but to refuse. He shook his head solemnly, feeling slightly at fault as his mother's face sunk low once again. "Oh," she said carefully, looking only a bit shocked, "oh, okay. No issue." She stiffened, once again, smiling that same smile that Draco knew was only an actress'. "You're probably right anyway; it's freezing out!" She approached him slowly once again, taking the crown of his head in her hands. Then she bent low, kissing his skull before drawing back for the final time that afternoon. With that, she turned around and made way to the door, leaving her son, the room, and the view of the weather behind her conclusively.

With that, Draco leaned himself back against the wall, his knees out before him in a rather crooked manner. He took to once again watching the snow fall from the sky. It hit the bottom of his parent's backyard slowly. To himself he wondered how it was exactly that he'd gotten himself to where he'd been. Five years ago, he'd have never have imagined himself still residing with his parents, never would have imagined himself singe, either, to be more accurate. And, more precisely, he'd have never have imagined that Hermione Granger would have played such an important role in his life. Now he'd only come to expect nothing but the unexpected, something he'd should have adapted to quite some time ago. Nonetheless, he still felt anxious. He could sense something unsettling in the near future, knew by nothing by experience.

The little radio underneath him gave way and he let it breathe once again, analyzing it with a lifted brow. Was finding the silly Muggle toy merely a coincidence or was Hermione destined to be in his life since the beginning? Flushed, he'd wished he hadn't made such an embarrassment of himself throughout the previous years. Perhaps things would have turned out a bit differently if only he'd have taken a different route...

"You up?" Came Hermione's voice, rather less excitable than Draco would have originally imagined. And, besides, what sort of question was that, anyways? Of course he'd been up? It was twelve o'clock noon. He'd been up for at least six hours and Hermione herself sounded like she'd just come to.

"It's lunch time," Draco said back quickly, watching the figure of both his parents finally exiting the house. They walked down the path away from the manor arm in arm, so put together even in the chilliest of weather. "I've been up for hours."

Hermione, though tired and sulky, laughed. "Oh, really?" she said testily, "doing what?"

Draco remained confused. He looked back at the radio and then out the window. "Watching the snow, actually," he said in truth.

Back in her own room, Hermione suppressed a smile. Unsure as to why she'd had to do so, she shifted herself underneath her bed sheets, finally glancing out the window for herself. "It's lovely, isn't it? The snow?" For a moment, she scrutinized the entire backyard, completely white under the icy blanket of the winter weather. "Besides," she said, "its a nice change from just the rain."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, leaned back his head and sighed out restlessly. His long legs stuck out straight before him and his arms hung heavily at his side. Quite frankly, he'd resumbled something of a discarded rag doll. Still, he lifted a free hand, blinked and then turned back to the radio with a curious expression on his face. "Hermione," he said dully, "what are you doing trying to entice me with small talk?"

Hermione blinked baffled, this time on her own. "Oh, well," she said uneasily, "pardon me. I've just woken up." A bit more hastily, she said back, "it's far too late in the day to come up with anything better, anyways."

Sighing, Malfoy responded with, "I've had quite enough small talk for this afternoon, I can assure you." His eyes followed the final vision of his mother and father, just barely two little dots in the distance. They were still linked on to one another, stiff and straight and well-put. The thought of their statue-like beings slightly nerved Draco for reasons rather unbeknownst to him in the first place. They'd always behaved so perfectly. Why was it that he was only just beginning to be bothered by the act of it?

"Right," Hermione huffed, trying to mask her annoyance. Still, she found it more easy to be gentle with Draco, for she was far too happy with him to allow herself to fall under ill pretenses, anyway. "No small talk," she muttered continuously, "check."

Banging his head back against the wall behind him, Malfoy instantly regretting snapping at her. He wasn't really in the best mood, despite having had a wonderful past couple of days. Perhaps he'd simply needed to drop his whole idea of suspicion. Maybe there was nothing horrible waiting for him in the mist. Maybe, for once, he could start living a considerably happy existence. "Sorry," he recoiled, biting his lip, but he paid no attention to Hermione as she whisked his apology away like she'd not noticed it.

"Don't be," she said ruthlessly. Then, vibrantly, she asked out loud, "want to get a better look at the snow?" Malfoy considered this. From where he'd been sitting, he could see the snow perfectly fine-- however, he knew that his seat was not what Hermione really had in mind. So shifting himself, he glanced down at his mother's new scarf, given to him at rather quite an accurate time. Still, Hermione was talking in a hinting tone, slowly pronouncing every one of her words as if she were telling him a secret. "I hear," she said quietly, "that there's a little clearing out in the woods someplace that would be brilliant for such scrutiny."

And she could not have been more close to the truth. Malfoy readjusted his olive green scarf and his eyes darted around for a pair of socks. "Is that so?" Draco teased, pretending to have just heard about the clearing for the first time in his entire life, "well I think I might just have to go check this spot out, then."

Laughing, Hermione asked conclusively, "met you there in ten?"

But Malfoy had glanced back in to the kitchen, decided that perhaps the chilly weather could only be counteracted with a nice thermos of tea. He said, watching the hallway curiously, "give me twenty."

Hermione's tiny feet made only slight imprints in the white winter snow. Wrapped up like a mummy, she'd prepared herself for chilly weather, but nothing of this sort. Already it was the first day of winter and she could hardly feel the tips of her toes through her thick boots. As she walked through the high risen snow, she considered what she'd made of her life as of the previous day. Since then, she'd come to expect nothing but the impossible. She'd gone far further from only expecting the unexpected at this point. Such expectations were, of course, rather insane-- for her meetings with one Draco Malfoy were far more that simply unexpected. However, that wasn't to say that she wasn't enjoying herself. Making her way closer to the clearing, in fact, she found that she'd been rather anxiously anticipating her catching-up with him. And, despite the nippiness outside, inside her chest was rather warm.

Besides, she could see through the white tipped trees that Draco Malfoy had come far earlier than he'd expected himself to have arrived. Watching him from afar, she could just barely make out the rising steam of hot tea and a smile was instantly etched on her face. Feeling slightly stupid, she laughed to herself; the end of her nose instantly lighting up a bright shade of red to counteract the rest of her ghostly pale face. "Wow," she said calling out to him over the rush of the winter wind, "I really should just stop expecting anything at all!"

Malfoy looked up, watching the figure of Hermione advance slowly towards him. He was seated on the ground, rearranging the mugs he'd placed out on the big blanket He was wearing a thick jacket and a green scarf, and his hands were pink without gloves. Over his head of blond hair, he'd pulled down a newsboy hat low over himself. But she seemed more focused on something else. Clearly, her eyes were set on the tea cups and on the place he'd set out for her. But truly he hadn't thought much of it. Still, he'd noticed her at once and found that he was quite fond of the lovely smile on her face. "Oh?" he asked, watching her stand up before him, scanning the scene he'd set out vibrantly, "you were expecting something different?"

"Surely," she said, amused, "I wasn't expecting an entire picnic."

"Well," Draco shrugged, feeling slightly pleased with himself for the first time in a long time, "you should start expecting the unexpected, Granger."

But Hermione shook her head. As she did so, her long brunette hair flew out marvelously behind her, caught up in the snowy air. "No," she said, taking her seat. Fixating herself on top of the large blanket, she continued, "I won't do that at all. Anyway, I've decided to stop expecting anything. Expectations are overrated. Besides, its far better to just go along with the punches." Then, freely, Hermione shrugged. She clearly exaggerated her point by tossing her arms up slightly and breathing out, "take each day in strides."

Malfoy watched her. She looked so content in the snow, even with her face so contorted against it. Her long hair was out behind her, taken up by the rush of the air. Her eyes were slightly watered by the chilliness of it all. "I've been expecting," he said rather morosely, "that my days of joy are rather limited."

Hermione's face fell. Scolding him, she retracted from grabbing her tea. She narrowed her eyes and said, "don't think that way."

Lifting his brow, Draco decided to challenge her. He leaned forward and picked up his own tea, blowing on it so that it would not burn him. Then, over the edge of his cup, he asked, "and why shouldn't I?"

"Because!" Hermione said, sighing, "that is a horrible way to live."

"Really?" Malfoy asked, sarcastically.

Hermione leaned back. With her hands she smoothed away the free bits of her hair and nodded. Very sternly, she finished, "yes, really," and watched him closely. Over the passing moments she'd forgotten all about her tea cup, and the picnic. But decisively she shook the notion of worry from her mind. She did not want to feel worried anymore. She had only just begun to feel carefree and she decided that she was going to stay focused on that route instead. Nonetheless, she leaned forward, swiped her tea up from the ground, and sipped it as if she were in a contest to finish before Malfoy. "Nothing bad is going to happen, Draco. Nothing bad is going to happen because you've passed that stage already." Using her hands as a way of demonstrating her point, Hermione swiped them clear across the sky, "you're way past it! I mean, what could possibly happen to you, hm?"

Malfoy wasted no time in answering her. It was rather clear that he'd been thinking about such awful instances for quite some time. "I could start hearing voices," he quipped instantly.

Although, his answer didn't seem to phase Hermione. "Well, Harry was hearing voices for quite some time, you know. And nothing was the matter with him."

Draco sipped a surplus amount of his hot tea. With the steaming drink still in his mouth, he said sloppily, "ah, but I am not the 'Chosen One', remember? I'm just the insane one."

"Alright, enough." Hermione fixed herself once again, propping her tea cup down on the ground quickly. Then, she grabbed for Draco's cup, removing it from his fingers in a quick motion. "Enough of this talk. The only part of you that is insane is the crazy rubbish that comes out of your mouth, Draco Malfoy." And when Draco gave her no response back, she asked, "do you understand me?"

However, although Draco was not convinced, he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Well," he said, ignoring Hermione's serious tone of voice, "yes, ma'am."

Hermione's face flushed. Red all over, she pushed herself entirely back, crossing her arms across her entire chest. Breathing out, she said unamused, "forget it. You are mental!"

"Well, now we're agreeing on something!" Draco said, still teasing her. He leaned forward, though, pulling her arms out of their crossed position. Then, he handed Hermione's drink back to her and said boyishly, "now drink it. I spent a long time putting this together."

Tilting the steaming cup back up to her lips, Hermione rolled her eyes, "psychopath," she accused before she downed the rest of her tea in one sloppy gulp.

"Cheers!" Draco said merrily, matching her conclusive swallow with one of his own. Then, when he noted that Hermione truly wasn't joking, he pushed himself towards her again. "Look, I'm trying, okay?" he said, still smiling. The happy look on his face was, however, something he couldn't get rid of. Even suspecting something so horrible, he couldn't deny that he'd quite liked the place he was currently in. There, sitting next to Hermione, he seemed to have finally found himself what was far better than a happy-medium. "You know," he said, completely changing the subject, "when it gets cold enough, that entire lake is going to freeze over."

Hermione coughed, then, flatly, she said, "oh really? I'd have never guessed."

"Would you have guessed that I'm a brilliant ice-skater?"

A small smile crept across her face. "I'd pay a significant amount of money to see you even attempt to figure skate, Malfoy," Hermione responded, staring at the pond in front of her. It was just getting there, too. The surface of the water was thin with its nice hint of oncoming ice.

"Just wait," Draco said, glad to have lightened the mood significantly.

Finally, Hermione spun around, her face still happily red. She slapped him playfully across the forearm of his thick jacket, accusing rabidly, "you're such a liar!"

"You should have expected that," Draco said, and Hermione leaned back into him, her hands still fiddling in her lap.

"Promise you'll at least try to be a bit more relaxed?" she asked when a couple moments had passed between them.

Malfoy considered this. Maybe, he thought, he'd give it a try. "Promise," he said, though even he could not tell whether or not he was lying.

And so, there he had it. He'd not fallen in love just yet, and he'd not gotten married. Draco Malfoy was still living in his parents house and, at twenty-two years old, he still found himself playing around with a children's toy radio. Anxious, he'd come to expect something awful in his near future, for nothing good had stuck with him for too long of a time. He'd accomplished absolutely nothing he'd set out to do in the first place. He'd found that he'd received almost no social redemption or salvation. Goyle, he'd thought Draco to be crazy; Pansy, she could have cared less. His father was, more or less, on Goyle's side and his mother, well she had been denying every bit of it since the beginning. Furthermore, he saw a numerous amount of therapy sessions in his near future.

Over the past couple days, he'd gained himself a hefty amount of scars, and his left eye was still swollen and bruised. Not only had he lost a vast majority of his pride, but he'd started to feel his sanity slipping along with it. So why wasn't he completely miserable? Anyone sane would have been completely discontent at the very realization of all of that. However, he couldn't manage to be anything of the sort. Through everything he was, quite frankly, quite alright. And despite all this, he rested his back against the thick tree trunk behind him, extended his legs and watched Hermione as she leaned pitched up against him.

So, for now, he'd decided that everything was fine and well. Maybe he'd take Hermione up on her offer; maybe he'd sit back and relax. Take the days in strides. And for a moment, for a very fragment of a second, he thought fondly of himself for even finding the silly toy radio in the first place.

Vonne: Second part up ASAP. I'm working on it RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT. The more reviews I get on this, the faster I'll be motivated to put it up! :) Let me know what you think! Thanks for all your attention on this! REVIEW!