6/25/06 I would like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this story again and again. Your reviews have encouraged me to finish this fic when I was ready to abandon it. I am currently writing Chapter Eleven, although it is not going very smoothly. I have also recently revised and reposted all previous chapters. Nothing really changes, but there were a few things I thought could be a bit crisper. I do plan on finishing this piece, I just can't say when that will be. Thank you all again!

Faith

Sometimes there is nothing. And sometimes, a man can't feel anything. Because sometimes, it really is for the best.

At one time in his life, Malfoy had been quite decisive. Things were easy and most subjects required little reflection before action was taken. There were no ethical or moral dimensions to consider. Malfoy could admit that earlier in his life, he probably could not have identified an ethical or moral dimension to a problem to save his pitiful soul. But life was different then. Questions were easier, it was true. Of course it wasn't true, but time often has its way of distorting the past and like most people, Malfoy readily and irrationally accepted those distortions.

Things were different now. Decisions were far more difficult to formulate. There seemed to be an abundance of ramifications to consider when making a decision. In light of this, Malfoy had the tendency to avoid important decisions and simply let life, or more accurately, let Hermione take him where she would have him.

But this was different. Malfoy never felt so sure of anything in his life. Such a strong, unequivocal decision could only make a man feel like . . . well, like a man. He might have puffed out his chest a bit at his feelings of unabashed masculinity, were he not so ungodly nauseous.

Even if Hermione asked him in her sweetest voice, Malfoy would never ever ride the Knight Bus again. He felt like someone had ungraciously reached into his abdominal cavity and rearranged everything they had found there, taking special care that his intestines reached well into his throat, all the while laughing a quiet maniacal laugh. He didn't know how people could handle this on a regular basis. Surely, it was a sign of a mass neurosis.

Malfoy took some comfort in the fact that Crookshanks was having as difficult a time as he was. The animal often emitted a low-pitched howl while rattling around in his carrier and Malfoy took perverse pleasure in it. It was only right that Crookshanks should suffer so, since Crookshanks was the reason they were on this infernal bus. Malfoy had no real problem with Crookshanks – the two got along reasonably well, but now Malfoy was entertaining various nefarious schemes involving all manner of feline torture. When Hermione had presented him with the tickets to the Knight Bus a mere two hours ago, Malfoy had been a bit puzzled. He couldn't deny he was curious about the prospect as he had never ridden it before, but he simply couldn't understand why they would ride a bus when they could just as well Apparate. Hermione had replied in her most innocent voice that Crookshanks didn't like to Apparate, as though it was completely natural to subject themselves to the horror that was the Knight Bus because her mentally deficient, smelly, ugly, cantankerous and overall abominable familiar didn't like to Apparate. Malfoy could only wonder how Crookshanks fared when Apparating as he didn't seem to enjoy the Knight Bus in any sense of the word. Malfoy hoped he might be able to see such a sight at some point in his life and the thought brought him some pleasure.

The bus made another sharp stop. Malfoy grunted as his body rammed into the seat in front of him. Hermione appeared totally unaffected as she leaned against the side of the bus and stared blankly out the window. He sighed and slid back into his chair. It seemed only fitting that Malfoy should be so tormented by this bus. The day had not gone well up to this point, and Malfoy could find little reason for it actually improving. He was exhausted, but more than that, he felt completely blank. His mind had absolutely refused to think on anything today because he feared that if he did, the misery would soon overwhelm him and ultimately destroy him. A sincere and yet understated sense of bleakness and regret infused him. He couldn't say that he didn't care what happened, because he knew he did, he just couldn't feel it at the moment. He and Hermione needed to talk, but he simply didn't know what he could possibly say to her. Malfoy knew that in times such as this, when relationships teeter between oblivion and distrust, that there really wasn't anything one could say. A man could just hope that a solution would present itself and everything would work out in his favor, but Malfoy had little if any hope that this would be the case.

The air itself had shifted awkwardly between them this morning. Hermione had been sufficiently discomfited in her demeanor and each time she had met his eyes, she would quickly look away. In all truthfulness, Malfoy was thankful for the incompetency of the Knight Bus driver as it distracted him from his current situation with Hermione, and yet even through all the tossing about he experienced, the last twenty-four hours were ever-present in his consciousness.

For the vast majority of the night, sleep had evaded him. Hermione slept the sleep of the dead, while sleep refused to bless Malfoy until very late the following morning. This had given him ample time to re-play the conversation of the night before in his head. He recalled instances throughout their relationship that suddenly made more sense in the light of what he had learned – Hermione's distance from him, her near obsessive loyalty to Ron Weasley, and overall, her wish not to enter into a relationship with himself. The devastation had crushed him when he realized how little she trusted in him and their friendship – she had never mentioned it, she had never asked for an apology, she had never made any allusions to it. He realized then that he had no idea what she wanted from him and no idea what he could possibly give her.

His sense of remorse had only deepened as the night wore on, while his grip on Hermione's body had tightened. He simply could not get close enough to her. Her scent was near, but so subtle that it didn't choke him. Her body was near, but she wasn't crushing him. Her hair brushed against his face, but it wasn't strangling him. At one point in the night, he had pulled her limp body to rest completely upon his. It was good, but her weight didn't suffocate him, as it should have been.

He had awoken to find that Hermione had left his embrace. There was no panic, no overwhelming sense of loss upon finding that she was no longer in his arms. He knew it would happen as such, but he had hoped it would not. They had stammered their good mornings and politely asked how the other was faring. Malfoy made a motion to reach for Hermione but she had backed away mentioning that they needed to be packing and helping the students onto the train and then they both found escape in the chaos that Hogwarts students happily provided for the weary couple.

A sharp stop brought Malfoy back to the present moment and with a rather unmanly yelp, he was pitched to the floor once again. Hermione precariously held onto her upright position while she let an unladylike guffaw escape her lips at Malfoy's predicament. Malfoy grumbled a bit, but it was the first time today he heard Hermione laugh, so he raised his head to meet her eyes and gave her a half-smile which she returned.

"This is our stop Malfoy," Hermione said, as she gathered their bags. Malfoy groaned as he picked himself up and he thought he heard Hermione stifle a giggle, but he couldn't be sure.

Hermione thanked the conductor as they descended the stairs, while Malfoy silently cursed him. They stepped out into the dense Welsh air. It took Malfoy a moment to regain his balance. It felt terribly good to be on solid ground again and on another day, he might have kissed the ground in an effort to make Hermione laugh, but this wasn't another day.

Hermione told him they were near Harry's home. Malfoy immediately forgot the name of the town, but he did remember it sounded like it had more L's than a name ought to have. Malfoy surveyed his surroundings. The town itself was old and crumbling and looked as though it had reached its peak some one to two hundred years ago. The only real feature that struck him was how depressing this place looked – the heavy fog and mist, the old gray buildings and the old gray people.

"Let's go. It's this way," Hermione said, motioning with her nose.

Hermione hefted a small pack on her back and heaved Crookshanks's carrier with both hands. She walked bent at her waist to support the horrid animal. It was apparent that she was experiencing some serious difficulty.

"Here, let me take him," Malfoy said as he took Crookshanks's carrier out of her hand.

"Thanks." Malfoy was rewarded with another smile.

It was then that Malfoy realized how heavy this animal actually was. Of course, this was all made worse with the way Crookshanks seemed to rattle about. It was all quite distracting. "I suppose there's no chance of levitating him?"

"No, not until we are sure no one can see us. Don't worry, it won't be too far." Malfoy was a little concerned about the emphasis Hermione had put on the word "too", but he was a man and determined to take it as such.

Crookshanks howled a low unnatural howl. The sound was actually a bit disconcerting. It was the sort of sound a person would expect a hell-sent demon to make and not an innocuous little mammal.

"I suppose stunning him is out of the question?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Humph." He thought he saw Hermione smile and it made him feel the slightest bit better.

They passed old stone cottages, old women conversing in the street, a few crumbling shops and a few boarded up storefronts. The mist turned into the lightest of drizzles. Within a few short minutes, they were outside the little village and Hermione mercifully told Malfoy that he could lighten their loads and he sighed in relief as he cast the requisite charms. Malfoy let Crookshanks float several feet behind them, glad to be rid of the hairy orange beast for awhile.

As they walked down a crumbling road, Malfoy couldn't help but notice the grayness of the atmosphere. The hills rolled gently and he could see the occasional rock outcropping. Forests were visible in the distance. It could have been a nice landscape were it not so brown and desolate. And yet, there was something slightly wild about the landscape, something slightly creepy and powerful about it.

Hermione and Malfoy walked in silence down a narrow old road that appeared to lead to nowhere. It seemed fitting somehow.

"So," Malfoy said, eager to dissipate the silence and to have the slightest interaction with Hermione, "I have a theory." Hermione's back immediately stiffened.

"Those guys on the Knight Bus," Hermione gave him a confused look, as Malfoy cleared his throat, "yeah, the old one and the shifty looking bloke," Hermione nodded with an odd look on her face, "they're sadists," Malfoy finished with conviction.

"Sadists?" Hermione asked with yet another smile.

"Sadists. Think about it. Muggles don't get to use magic yeah? And their lives are definitely er, different than ours. We have magic to improve our daily lives and such."

"Okay," Hermione said, drawing the word out slowly.

"Yeah, so we get to use magic right? And this is the best we can do? I think those sick bastards enjoy seeing people tossed about like that. Merlin, I don't think I've ever felt that sick. I mean, it can't possibly be necessary to drive around like that." Malfoy was unaware that his little theory was starting to sound like a little rant. "I would like to think that we, as a magical community could do so much better. I shudder to think what those degenerates do on their days off."

Malfoy let his gaze rest on Hermione. She grinned and shook her head in what Malfoy commonly referred to as the look of female exasperation. He was quite familiar with that look. Most men are.

Malfoy smiled back, but he didn't really feel it.

They settled into a somewhat more companionable silence. They trudged down the old road closer and closer to. . . well Malfoy assumed they were closer to Potter's hovel, but it looked like absolutely nothing to him. Perhaps they lived in a cave of some sort. He wouldn't put it past Potter – Malfoy always knew he was a little strange. Despite the fact that Potter was one of Hermione's best friends, Malfoy just couldn't bring himself to think well of him.

They turned on a road here, and then a road there. They were entering some kind of wooded area. Malfoy cast the occasional fleeting look at Hermione. The stolen glances revealed a woman who loved this place. She often closed her eyes and breathed in the heavy air with a little smile on her face. She tilted her head to the sky to let the misty drizzle plaster her face. The little droplets lit upon her hair in tiny little globes, her checks were rosy from the chill and the exercise, and when she wasn't looking at him, she looked genuinely content. An objective observer might take little notice of this rather plain disheveled woman, but she was absolutely bewitching to Malfoy. His heart started to beat just a little faster and a slight sense of longing permeated his numbness.

Malfoy followed Hermione as she led him down yet another narrow and even more rustic road. Weeds grew in the old tracks. They continued to walk on in silence. Malfoy figured they must have traversed several miles already. He was starting to get cold with the chilly air and the misty rain and although he could have cast a Warming Charm, he somehow felt he shouldn't.

Hermione suddenly stopped.

"Listen Malfoy," Hermione began, "I think it goes without saying that you can't tell anyone where Harry and his family live." She looked up at him.

"Right," Malfoy said dutifully.

"No, this is serious Malfoy. You can't even tell anyone that you've seen any of the Potters. They value their privacy and they don't want anyone to come knocking on their door. And besides, Harry would rip you to shreds if you told anyone." Her last statement made Malfoy feel like he was eleven years old again. Malfoy was slightly uneasy with the idea of Potter ripping him to shreds, as Hermione had so delicately put it, and he didn't want to concede that Potter was far more powerful than he could ever hope to be.

"Uh, okay. Why all the secrecy?"

"Malfoy, this is Harry Potter we're talking about." She shrugged. "He didn't want to be Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World anymore. And . . .I don't think he wants to have to explain how it all ended to the whole world."

Malfoy took her hand. "I won't tell anyone and I won't ask any uncomfortable questions. You can trust me Hermione." Malfoy hoped that Hermione would realize that he wasn't solely talking about Harry Potter any more. He didn't deserve or expect her trust, but he thought she had a right to know.

Hermione bit her lip. She seemed to understand.

"I promise. I won't tell anyone." Malfoy said earnestly

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment without looking anywhere in Malfoy's vicinity.

"Hermione-" Malfoy reached for her other hand and tightly grasped them both. Her cool hands fit perfectly within his. He stepped closer and she stepped away.

"No-" Hermione raised a hand to stop him. Her brows knit together, and bit her lipe as if in deep thought. Malfoy waited patiently.

"Malfoy, everything I thought I knew about you - about us is . . . it's wrong." Her words were carefully measured. "And I need to think about it some more and . . . I just need a little time."

"I see." Malfoy's grip on her hands slackened. "We can't put this off forever Hermione."

"I know, I just-" she whispered.

"It's okay."

Malfoy released one hand so that he might cup her cheek. Hermione looked up at him, her face a mixture of uncertainty and sadness. That look threatened to overwhelm him. He had been undeniably numb for most of the day, being too tired and befuddled to feel much of anything, but that look of Hermione's suffused him with emotion. Feeling rushed in at him and crashed around his psyche. The world twirled around him. His breath caught in his throat. He suddenly felt so many things at once, he thought his heart would explode. The most powerful - Love, Regret and Guilt - battled for dominance within him creating a strange sensation within his chest. Malfoy sucked in his breath sharply. Gods how he wanted to wrap himself around her and take away all the pain she had ever felt. He clenched his jaw – he would not do that to her. She simply deserved more than he could possibly give her.

He gave himself a few moments to recover his composure as Hermione watched him.

"I meant what I said last night." Hermione's eyes traveled all over his face and bore deeply into his eyes. She made no verbal response.

"I do love you." His other hand found its way into her damp, messy hair. "And you have no idea how sorry I am." He returned her intense gaze as best he could. Unconsciously, he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers. She needed to know. She needed to know that she was worth such an emotion, even if it was from an overall worthless man.

He swallowed hard before he continued, "Whatever you decide, I will understand." Whatever she decided, he wouldn't understand, especially if that decision banished him from her life, as he suspected it might, but sometimes people need to say things they don't mean to the ones they love.

Hermione closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his midsection and rested her head upon his chest and Malfoy did not hesitate to enclose her in his arms. He gently placed light kisses on the top of her head and nuzzled his face into her damp hair. His control was slipping.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. As Hermione pulled away, Malfoy experienced some difficulty in releasing her from his grasp, firmly believing that this could very well be the last time he would hold her so closely.

Hermione cleared her throat and straightened her robes. "It isn't much further now. Once we pass that tree," Hermione pointed to the tallest tree in the area, "we are going to hit the protective spells around their property." Hermione grabbed Malfoy's hand as they began walking again.

"What spells does he have here?"

"Oh, the usual protection and keep-away spells, but he modified some of them so they are slightly different than what most wizards have encountered, so people don't notice that they've hit them. It's going to take me a few minutes to disarm them," Hermione said, pulling out her wand and getting to work.

Malfoy watched through droopy eyelids for a few moments and then collapsed on a fallen log. He felt the dampness of the log seep through his trousers, but Malfoy simply didn't care. Hermione waved her wand in complicated movements and gently chanted charms. Something akin to an energy field pulsed as she worked different charms on the area. It was quite apparent that these were no ordinary protection spells. And Malfoy was content to watch her work. The air cackled with magic and energy. If Malfoy were a maudlin man, he would have thought the whole scene magical, but he wasn't.

After a quarter of an hour and countless charms later, the air seemed to part before Hermione revealing a beautiful stone home.

"Look, you can see the house," Hermione pointed down the road.

An big old stone house was situated on a bit of a rise. Stately trees surrounded the home and someone had planted flowers around the outside. It seemed out of place here. The architecture was not terribly out of the ordinary for this area, but Malfoy had a feeling that this house wouldn't be as cold as the other houses they had passed.

The front door opened and Harry Potter stepped through.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked and ran towards him. Malfoy watched Potter embrace her and give her a little twirl about. Hermione whispered something in Potter's ear as soon as he put her down. Potter turned his head to watch Malfoy. The two men looked at each other, one with interest, one with defeat – Potter raised an eyebrow in reaction to whatever it was Hermione had told him. Malfoy didn't know what transpired between the two, but he did know that he wasn't eager to face Potter again. Slow steps carried Malfoy to Hermione's side.

"Potter."

"Malfoy." The two men shook hands, each squeezing a bit tighter than necessary.

Hermione and Potter chatted amiably about this and that as they entered the old home. Malfoy didn't particularly want to admit it, but Potter's home was warm and welcoming. The rooms were homey and informal and they had a definite feel of being completely lived in. Magical and non-magical plants twined themselves around the ceiling, across walls and through fixtures. There were books and toys scattered about, interspersed between and sometimes within the plants. The light was warm and welcoming and Malfoy could hear the happy crackle of a fire in the hearth.

"Auntie My, Auntie My," two little voices exclaimed as two small children barreled down the hallway. A slight scuffle ensued when a little boy and a little girl both seemed determined to get to "Auntie My" before the other.

Hermione knelt on the ground and welcomed both children with hugs and kisses. The children spoke quickly, telling their Auntie about the drawings they had made for her and the new toad the little boy had gotten a few days earlier, and the boy had put the new toad in the girl's bed and Daddy was mad at him for it and Mummy was going to have a new baby and did Auntie My know what the baby's name would be, because they both wanted to know, but the baby didn't want to come out of Mummy's tummy yet and did Auntie My know when the baby would come out because Mummy and Daddy wouldn't tell them and they both wanted to play with the baby, but Daddy said that the baby wouldn't want to play with them for awhile because the baby would be so small and the baby would be tired from coming out of Mummy and did Auntie My think that was right? Did the baby really not want to play with them? Each child tried to pull "Auntie My's" attention in their direction, each clinging to her like especially talkative barnacles.

Malfoy didn't know much about children and hadn't had much experience in that area, but he imagined they were both between the ages of zero and five. The little boy appeared to be the older one - Malfoy knew this because he was bigger than the girl. There was nothing terribly remarkable about them as far as children went – they were cute and dirty and Malfoy surmised that they probably smelled.

A couple of sweets were brought from the recesses of Hermione's robe when she was pressed for them. She told them that she would be here the whole week and began talking of all the fun things the three of them would do together. Malfoy had never really seen Hermione as the matronly type. She was good to her students, but she wasn't overly indulgent as she was with these two. Malfoy couldn't help but wonder how often Hermione came here. Her connection with these children could certainly clarify her unexplained absences. Malfoy wondered how well he really knew her. She had made so little of herself available to him.

These two little people were obviously devoted to Hermione, and he could see by the way she looked at them that Hermione would do anything for these children. She listened attentively and responded to every broken sentence. She smiled and laughed. She hugged and she kissed. She let them bask in her attention and love. For one brief moment, until he reminded himself that such things were unacceptable for a rational adult, Malfoy despised these children and the hold they had over his Hermione.

Potter cleared his throat, "Alright you two." He peeled one squirming child off Hermione so that she could easily disentangle herself from the other. Still holding the little girl, Hermione turned to Malfoy.

"Ellie, this is my friend, Draco Malfoy. Can you say hello to him?" The little girl looked at Malfoy and then buried her face in Hermione's neck

Hermione giggled, "Ellie, he won't bite, I promise you."

Malfoy thought this might be his cue to say something to the effect that no indeed, he did not bite and he would very much like to make her acquaintance, but he wasn't about to attempt something as flummoxing as communication with a child. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Potter was watching him closely.

"Elise sweetheart, don't you want to meet my friend?" The girl merely clung even tighter to her auntie and with a laugh, Hermione hugged her tightly.

Something tugged at Malfoy's trousers. He looked down to see the little boy watching him.

"Who're you?" the little boy demanded with a scowl about his face.

Malfoy awkwardly leaned over the boy, "Er, I'm Draco Malfoy. Uh, what's your name?"

"Matthew." The boy regarded him for awhile. "Wanna see Ed?"

"Uh sure." Matthew turned and bolted away, apparently in search some bloke named Ed.

"Did you bring Crookshanks Hermione?" Potter asked, sounding shocked.

"Kitty!" Ellie removed her buried head, struggled out of Hermione's arms and darted toward Crookshanks's carrier.

"Well, I just didn't want to leave him all alone for a week."

"I'm sure he can take care of himself Hermione."

"Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!"

"I know, I just," she shrugged and she suddenly looked very vulnerable to Malfoy, "I just wanted him with me."

"Are you daft woman?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"KITTY!" Malfoy had not been aware up until this point that such a large voice could come out of such a small creature.

"Maybe just a little," Hermione said, smiling down at Ellie and Crookshanks.

Hermione knelt by the carrier. "Remember, you need to be gentle with Crookshanks. He's very old and he needs you to be careful." Ellie nodded while she jumped up and down in her excitement.

"Okay, I'm going to let him out now."

Malfoy would not have believed if had he not seen it. He had previously been convinced that nothing could possibly frighten Crookshanks. Crookshanks was not a normal cat. He walked with the confidence of an animal who knows nothing will bother it. He positively swaggered sometimes. The animal could probably stare down a hippogriff if he so wished to. But one look at little Ellie threw the animal into the feline version of hysterics – Crookshanks hissed at the little girl and his fur, already fluffy, puffed out, so that nothing could distinguish the animal from a gaudy fur pillow. Running low to the ground, Crookshanks disappeared out of sight.

Ellie's lip began to quiver. Hermione swept her up in her arms and offered her another sweet. This seemed to make everything all better.

"I think that was the funniest thing I've ever seen," Malfoy said, still in amazement that this cute little girl could scare the indomitable Crookshanks.

Potter chuckled. "Here," he passed Hermione's satchel to Malfoy, "I'll help you guys get settled."

Malfoy and Potter carried the bags up a narrow old staircase. Hermione followed behind with Ellie still in her arms. She was telling the little girl that nothing was wrong with her, that Crookshanks was a crabby old cat and he didn't like anyone – no he didn't even like Uncle Ron! No really! Malfoy correctly surmised that now was not the time to inform them that Crookshanks liked him just fine.

Potter directed Malfoy to turn into a room that reminded him of Hermione. It was light and airy and there were massive bookshelves crammed full of all manner of books. Potter tossed Hermione's small bag on the bed.

"Hermione, you two sharing a room or what?"

Hermione looked up from her conversation with Ellie, slightly flustered by the question.

"Oh, er well, I don't know. What would you like Malfoy?"

Malfoy paused for a moment as he imagined sharing a room with Hermione. Unwanted images fluttered through his mind – her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, her body pliant and willing, her sounds, oh gods her sounds – Malfoy stopped himself, there was no need to torture himself with something that would be forever out of his reach. Knowing her as he did, Malfoy knew that she wasn't inviting him for casual sex or non-casual sex as the case may be, but for something else – something platonic and maybe intimate. It didn't matter to him, he wanted her in his arms again. It was the most he could possibly hope for, but he didn't want to seem overly eager and desperate in front of Potter, so he answered as diplomatically as he knew how.

"Whatever you would like Hermione."

Very deliberately, Hermione put Ellie down. All was silent for several moments save for the sounds Ellie made as she romped about the room and crawled up on the bed. Hermione appeared totally unembarrassed by her indecision.

"Well, I guess I don't know," Hermione said, looking bewildered.

A heavy silence fell on the room, soon broken by Potter. "You can decide whenever you want, Hermione. For right now, we'll just leave your stuff here, okay?" Potter asked, in a surprisingly gentle voice. Potter looked at Hermione meaningfully and Hermione gave him a weak smile. The intensity of their friendship was palatable.

The whisper of little footsteps echoed down the hallway and soon pounded into the room.

"Here's Ed!" shouted little Matthew, and with a devious little smirk threw a large ugly toad onto the bed in front of his sister who immediately started shrieking. Malfoy got the impression that the girl was in no way frightened of the toad, but was making a show of it for whatever reason. The sounds of Ellie shrieking, Potter yelling at his son, and Matthew explaining that the tall man wanted to meet Ed all meshed together into horrible domestic cacophony. Potter somehow ushered two upset children and a struggling toad out of the room. If this was family life, Malfoy wanted no part of it.

Hermione faced Malfoy. "You look dead tired. Why don't you sleep for awhile? We'll have dinner in a few hours and then you can seen Luna – Harry mentioned that she's napping as well." Malfoy had known all day that he was exhausted, but he didn't actually feel it until Hermione made the suggestion.

Hermione pulled back the covers on the bed. Malfoy simply collapsed. She then pulled off his shoes and tucked the covers around him. Malfoy could do nothing but watch her. He wanted to do something bold like pull her in the bed with him and tell her that he would never again let her go, but his arms felt like dead weights. Malfoy felt his throat close as he watched her. She loved it in this place, she loved these children and was an integral part of their lives and she had never told him, because part of him just knew that he wasn't an integral part of her life. But he couldn't let the hopelessness win. Not yet. Not until Hermione wasn't here to witness it. He would never again place such a burden upon her.

She moved about the room for a few moments, putting things away and such. If he'd had the energy, he would have hated her. Hated her for not telling him of this place. Hated her for not telling him of these children to whom she was obviously devoted. Hated her for not trusting him. Hated her for not loving him. But he simply didn't possess that energy.

Hermione left the room with a promise to wake him in time for dinner. The sound of the rain and wind against the windowpanes had him asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow that smelled like Hermione.

It pulled him down and kept him still. He was gently pushed into something luxurious and warm. It was dark, but he could see. It melted into him and enclosed him within, protecting him.

Sometimes . . . sometimes dreams are soft. Sometimes they envelope a man and infuse him with whispered reassurances, however false those promises may turn out to be. Sometimes, dreams are all a man has to hold on to. And sometimes that's enough. Because sometimes . . . sometimes a man is willing to hope for things that experience has taught him will be forever out of his reach.

But only sometimes.

So those promises must be grasped tightly when they are sometimes offered.

And he did.

Everything was a little hazy, but it was not an unhappy haze. "Malfoy, it's time to get up," a soft gentle voice implored him. Malfoy drew all the air he could into his lungs and reveled in the feeling of his slowly expanding lungs. The air was fresh and clean. He unfolded his limbs and stretched out his long body. The sheets and quilts twisted around him as he rolled and shifted and moaned.

Something felt different. Something was new. It was an lifetime since he felt so rested and an eternity since he felt so aware. Something compelled him to smile as he rolled his head against the pillow. With a contented moan, he slowly opened his eyes to find Hermione sitting awkwardly on the bed beside him. It looked as though she had tried to tie her hair back, but it was sticking out everywhere, their were various stains on her shirt. Their was nothing special about her appearance. Her eyes weren't glowing with some inner light, she wasn't beautiful in a plain sort of way, her hair certainly didn't fall gracefully about her shoulders, her skin wasn't flawless. There was nothing special about her appearance. Merlin, but he loved her.

Malfoy had always been able to see Hermione for what she was and more importantly, what she wasn't. He wasn't one of those infatuated fools who assigned characteristics to their loves that didn't actually exist, and then when infatuation passed, found themselves disappointed. Malfoy knew that Hermione was not beautiful, but he found her to be so, even with her dull complexion, awful hair and average figure. That did not mean that he loved her any less. Malfoy always believed that meant he loved her more – he didn't have to make her into something she was not to love her as he did. And he did love her. He had not doubted it for years. There was no room for doubt. It simply was, and Malfoy suspected, it always would be.

Malfoy could see things about Hermione that other men missed - the lightness and openness of her expression, the softness of her features, the kindness in her eyes – and that made her the most beautiful woman in the world. Seeing her before him now, he knew he would not let her go. Last night, he had doubted everything he thought the two of them had ever had and shared. He had doubted his own self, his own being, but not his love. It was all he really had. It was the only thing that made him real, that made him feel, that gave him life. But how could he possibly hope to make Hermione happy after what he had done to her? He had convinced himself that all was hopeless and this morning, he had believed it. How could any couple overcome such distrust and so many years of disappointment and pain? He had decided to take this holiday with Hermione without any hope of anything materializing between them – he didn't deserve it, but he would take it in any case. But things were different at this moment. He didn't just have hope that things would work out between them, he had . . . he had faith – it was a completely foreign feeling for Malfoy, and although he was slightly suspicious of it, he couldn't help but enjoy the sensation. The Malfoy of even three days ago would have called him a blithering idiot, but the Malfoy of today silently rejoiced in it.

"Hi," he said in a thick sleepy voice. He smiled as he confidently grasped her hand.

"Hi."

Malfoy reached up and pulled on a piece of string around her neck that held a single button.

"Oh, Ellie made me a necklace." Together, they smiled at the jewelery making abilities of a small girl.

Hermione pushed a strand of hair out of his face. "It's time to eat."

Malfoy stretched and moaned and groaned in response. Hermione grabbed his hand. "Let's go." His little Hermione had to nearly drag his happy yet reluctant arse out of bed. Although his sleepy eyes were still slightly unfocused, he chuckled at the sight. She finally got him standing.

"Oh come here." Hermione pulled Malfoy down to her level and smoothed his hair. He rather liked her fussing, especially with the way her hands were entangled in his hair like that. When she was through, he placed an impetuous kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Yes, well," Hermione cleared her throat, "it's time to eat."

The two made their way into the dining area. Almost immediately, Malfoy came face to face with the most intense pale blue eyes he had ever seen. They were incredibly round and wide and seemingly endless.

"Malfoy, do you remember Luna?" Hermione asked.

"What, huh?" He looked down at Hermione, a question on her face.

"Do you remember Luna?" repeated Hermione.

"Oh of course. Thank you for allowing me to stay with you." He smiled and offered his hand to the woman he did not remember. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. She was rather tall and somewhat homely with short, blond hair. Her most striking feature was her generously round belly.

"It's good to see you again Draco. Have you been well?" Luna asked.

Malfoy opened his mouth to deliver the perfunctory response, but stopped and found himself truthfully answering her question. "Better than can be expected." The answer surprised Malfoy, but he couldn't help but believe that this woman would see right through him if he lied to her.

"I see." There was no censure in her voice, but a faint whisper of understanding. "I do hope that you have a wonderful time with us. Hermione is a very welcome guest here, as are you. My dear husband perhaps forgot to mention that you are welcome to anything you find here, and if there is anything you require to make your stay more comfortable, you must mention it to Harry or me and we will do anything we can to accommodate you."

"Thank you. I am very much looking forward to my stay here." Malfoy couldn't decide if she was genuinely gracious or if she merely imitated a greeting she heard in a swanky hotel at some point in her life. There was definitely something a little different about this woman – she had a look about her – something that suggested that she wasn't precisely living in reality, but made frequent visits to the place.

Potter frogmarched his son next to Luna. "Malfoy, my son has something he would like to say to you."

Malfoy smiled down at Matthew. The boy looked down and mumbled something very incoherent.

"Matthew, Mr Malfoy cannot hear you."

Matthew looked up with a slight scowl. "I'm sorry I threw Ed on your bed." Malfoy noticed that the boy had his mother's eyes. They did not contain the same warmth as he was scowling at the moment.

"That's quite alright." Malfoy felt up to attempting communication with a child. "And how is Ed after his little adventure?"

"He's in his tank. Daddy won't let me take him out for a whole week!"

"A whole week? Poor Ed." Matthew grumbled in agreement.

Malfoy continued his conversation with Matthew while dinner was served. Communication with a child wasn't quite as horrible as he had imagined it to be. There was a lot of listening, nodding and laughter. The laughter was genuine.

"Daddy said he would take me an' Ed to the pond, but Ellie can't come cause she's just a baby."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Matthew what did I tell you about treating your sister like that?" Luna said, serenely cutting through her children's shouting.

"Sorry mummy," Matthew said.

"And Ellie, that is no excuse to hit your brother," Luna said.

"Sorry mummy," Ellie said

The intimacy of the table was something Malfoy had never really felt before. He'd had dinners that were supposed to be intimate before, but this was something completely different. Everyone was relaxed and content, except for Matthew whenever Ed was brought up, which his sister did with surprising alacrity. Luna sat at the head of the table, with Hermione at her right. The two women talked and laughed, they teased the poor men at the table, they discussed a new potion Luna was working on and made plans for the week ahead.

Harry Potter spent much of the meal trying to keep his children in line. Malfoy was a little shocked at the way Potter spoke to his children. Malfoy's childhood experience had been quite different. Lucius Malfoy never yelled, he merely expected to be obeyed and he was.

"Merlin's balls Matthew, do you have to do that at the table?" Potter exclaimed.

"Harry," Luna said, her voice as even as ever.

"Sorry dear."

"Matthew darling, just because Daddy used inappropriate language does not mean that you can continue putting things up your nose."

"Yeth mummy."

Malfoy Senior was always polite, but there was something about him that children feared and adults respected out of fear. Potter grumbled and growled at his children, but for the most part, they didn't seem to mind. Potter looked like hell, with all the scars criss-crossing his face, he sounded like hell with all his gruffness, but his children did not fear him.

"Daddy Daddy! Can I tell the story, um, the one-the one when you fell in the pond an' an' mummy pulled you out?" Ellie giggled.

"Of course you can Ellie my angel."

Ellie and her father even engaged in a scowling match, which Ellie eventually won when her father broke out into a massive smile. Matthew then tried his hand at scowling with his father, which he won as well, to the cheers of the rest of the table. Potter might be generous with his children, but Malfoy was almost certain that if he engaged in such a match with Potter that it would not be so easily won.

Malfoy felt a lightness with these people that he hadn't felt in quite some time. He could see it in Hermione as well. She was at home here with her friends. Another day might have found Malfoy feeling surges of jealousy, but now he was an objective yet interested observer. That did not mean that he didn't engage in conversation, because he did, but he could see Hermione in a way that he had been unable to before. Her barriers were not stationed - Malfoy could see a glimmer in her eye and heard a slight change in the timbre of her voice. She trusted these people. For the most part, she was utterly relaxed here and Malfoy counted his few blessings that she invited him to accompany her. The only moments when Hermione was not completely relaxed was when she made eye contact with Malfoy. He couldn't help but smile at her, and Hermione simply looked slightly uneasy.

"Hermione would you help me a bit with the nursery this week? I'm a little concerned about the color scheme," Luna asked.

"Oh of course."

"Do you remember how much Ellie hated that yellow? It must not be a very nurturing color. I don't want the baby to feel unwelcome."

Nothing seemed quite real, but at the same time, it seemed more real than anything he had ever experienced before. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was still dreaming as everything seemed to have an element of the truly odd about it. He was, Merlin forbid, comfortable with these people and that simply couldn't be right. It was in the way that there were no pretensions. Luna could see right through him, Potter didn't like him, the kids might hit him up for stories or sweets or whatever it was that children wanted from adults. And Hermione . . . was Hermione . . . only more so. They were what they were and nothing more or less. Malfoy was actually laughing at Potter's interaction with his kids.

They spent the rest of the evening in conversation. The four adults talked about subjects of little consequence. There was the occasional awkward pause, but they dutifully plowed through those moments. Potter and Malfoy took the occasional verbal shot at each other while Hermione and Luna shook their heads at the modern male bravado. Matthew and Ellie were also a welcome distraction. They always had something to say and something to do.

"Mummy can I pet the baby?"

"Of course dearest."

Matthew and Ellie climbed all over Potter and Hermione, they gave Luna's belly reverent hugs and caresses and they often asked after Crookshanks and wondered if he might want to make friends with Ed. Malfoy supposed that such a meeting would only be beneficial for Crookshanks.

"Everybody likes Ed!" Matthew exclaimed with excitement.

"But Crookie is a meanie. Auntie My said so," Ellie said with seriousness that did not suit her well.

Later in the night, after the kids had been put to bed in some very complicated and very loud and whiny nighttime ritual, Hermione and Luna disappeared to the master bedroom to do whatever it is that women do together, and Malfoy and Potter were left to themselves at the kitchen table. It was painfully obvious that neither particularly wished to be there.

"Here," Potter handed Malfoy a glass of firewhiskey after he had refilled his own.

"Er, nice place you have here." Malfoy thought it was the thing to say when indifferent people don't have anything to say to one another.

"Thanks," Potter answered with a calculating look on his face. It was disquieting.

"Nice kids you've got."

"You obviously don't know them all that well," Potter said, but he had a look about him that suggested that he was immeasurably proud of his little family.

"So what are Hermione and Luna doing anyway?"

"Who the hell knows? They're women." Potter said as though that answered the only really important questions that have ever been asked.

"Ha." Malfoy swirled the liquid in his glass and watched as it moved around and around.

Peels of laughter cascaded down the stairs from the master bedroom and into the kitchen.

"Aw Christ," Potter grumbled, letting his head fall on the table. "Well, I'm gonna kip out in one of the other rooms – I don't think I'll get my bedroom back tonight."

Malfoy reluctantly rose to follow Potter. He didn't want to stay and talk with Potter, but he also didn't want to go to bed without at least saying good-night to Hermione. Malfoy couldn't help but wonder if she had decided to share a room with him or not. Potter stopped and distracted as he was, Malfoy ran right into him.

Potter cleared his throat. "About Hermione-" Potter said in a tight voice. Malfoy had known that something like this might happen and was not completely unprepared.

"It doesn't really need to be said does it?" Potter asked.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly to what Potter was referring.

"I'm sure if you used your imagination, you can probably guess what I'd do to you if you use her again." A muscle twitched in Potter's jaw. It made him look like the kind of man who had defeated the darkest wizard in a millennium.

Malfoy nodded. The corner of Malfoy's mouth lifted imperceptibly – it was funny. It really was – the way the two of them would do anything to protect Hermione and the way the two of them had so completely failed to keep her from pain and sorrow.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Sleep well," Potter said. And with that, Potter left the room.

Malfoy slowly walked up the stairs and into the room he had napped in earlier. He could see the light under the door to the master bedroom and he could hear the subdued voices. Potter probably did have a point, of some sort – Hermione and Luna were women – they could talk about anything and everything at length and Malfoy probably wouldn't understand half of what they said to each other.

When Malfoy opened the door, he saw Crookshanks perched on the bed looking like he had been ready to make a run for it. He relaxed upon seeing that the intruder was in the over-five set. Malfoy patted him on the head and the old cat butted his head against Malfoy's hand. Hermione's things were still left on the chair in the corner, untouched. Malfoy couldn't help but hope that Hermione would crawl into bed with him.

Malfoy crawled into bed and ran his hand over the cool sheets. He had a week. A week with Hermione and the people she loved. His eyes drooped. She had brought him here and Luna had welcomed him here. His breathing slowed. How much time would Hermione need? He would show her the man he could be, the man he wanted to be for her. His mind slowed as he thought of her. They needed each other. She would not have let him figure so prominently into her life if she didn't need something from him as well. She had invited him here. She had given him every reason to hope before yesterday. He would make it up to her. Malfoy felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in years – it would all work out. Of this, he was absolutely sure. He fell asleep before he could finalize his makeshift plan for the week ahead.

Sometimes, dreams are soft.