Meet the Kids

Chapter 7

A Shocking Proposal

Draco stared at Jamie perplexedly, unable to believe what he was hearing. Perhaps he'd heard wrong, his sub-conscience lied. The Malfoys tended to resort to denial when they didn't like what they were hearing; not that they would ever admit it, of course.

Luckily Granger looked just as confused, although in her case, being a Gryffindor, she was being honest with herself and had let her jaw drop. Malfoys never let their jaws drop. It was just not dignified.

"What was that?" Granger asked faintly. "Did you say 'father'?"

Weasley was frowning at Jamie, who looked quite smug. "Jasmine Marie Weasingson, what did you tell them?"

"Nothing," Jamie said indignantly.

"Jasmine . . ." There was a hint of warning in Weasley's voice.

"Weasingson?" Draco asked, too curious to refrain from asking when Jamie didn't immediately reply.

Weasley glanced at him, and his eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed in dislike. "I forgot you were here."

"Thanks," said Drake grumpily from the couch. Weasley ignored him.

"It's a mixture of Weasley and Parkinson that we use because Jamie can never make up her mind which one she wants to be her surname," he said, sounding as if he'd already explained dozens of times. Draco could instinctively tell Weasely was eager to point out that it was a pretty obvious explanation. From the similar expression on Granger's face it was clear she had understood, too.

"Weasingson sounds stupid," Jamie muttered, folding her arms and glaring mutinously at everyone.

Lizzie grinned. "It's better than Parsley." Jamie made a face at her.

Weasley turned to Granger. "What did Jamie tell you?"

"Malfoy asked who her father was, and she said her parents were Pansy and Blaise Zabini," said Granger honestly. She was likewise frowning at Jamie. "I knew you guys were hiding something."

"Yes, because they were so inconspicuous," Draco said sarcastically.

"Jamie, why didn't you just tell them?" Weasley demanded, exasperated.

Jamie pouted. "It's so much fun to see their reactions. Especially since they know the history and all."

"We do not!" Granger stormed. "How is it that you are Pansy's daughter and Ron's daughter, if you're Blaise Zabini's child?"

"I'm not," Jamie answered automatically. "I never said he was my father, I just said he was a parent."

"It's the same thing," Draco felt the need to point out. The fact that Weasley and Pansy had a daughter together was starting to sink in, and he was becoming more horrified by the second. Pansy, whom he'd known since he was a toddler, the girl he'd gone to the Yule Ball with, had a daughter with Weasley, the same Weasley they'd been laughing at in Potions a few days ago when Snape had disdainfully told him his Soothing Potion (for sore throats) looked like pulpy orange juice. That Weasley?

Draco squinted at the man in front of him. He certainly looked like Weasley, with that imbecilic red hair and those monstrous freckles. If any freckles dared appear on a Malfoy's face house arrest would be a sure requirement until the offending blemishes could be vanished.

Yes, it was definitely the same Weasley. The smile on Granger's face was almost blinding, and Draco felt quite put out for a moment; usually it was he who made girls smile like that. A second later, though, he had pulled himself together. After all, it was only Granger, not a regular girl at all.

Weasley sighed. "Jamie likes to . . . confuse people."

"So we've noticed," Draco said dryly. He was ignored; it was getting quite annoying.

"Pansy and I are divorced," Weasley said shortly. "We got married when we were 21 but it only lasted two years. We share custody of Jamie."

"He has a great relationship with Mum," Jamie piped up, looking proud. "They're still friends. Even Blaise doesn't mind Dad quite that much."

Weasley crooked a smile. "We dated off and on for three years; she's happy with Blaise, but we've still got a wonderful daughter." It was extremely sappy, and Draco was a bit surprised he appeared to be the only disgusted one in the room. Well, except for Drake, but he didn't count much seeing as how they were the same person. Wait- he'd forgotten. These people all liked Weasley.

"Why did Pansy marry you?" he asked coldly. Even he was caught by surprise at his sudden rudeness.

Weasley's surprise quickly turned to anger. "Hermione, how did you get stuck with him?" he asked coolly.

Potter glared at Draco. "Are you going to cause trouble when you're dead, as well?"

Drake made a noise of indignation. Mia sighed.

"I wasn't threatening you," Potter told Drake, looking ever so slightly amused. "I was just asking . . . seriously, Malfoy, we never counted on seeing you again."

Drake started muttering obscenities under his breath.

"Well, we have to put up with you," Potter said irritably. "We just never expected to see your teenage self again; it was even more annoying than you are presently, which is saying something."

"I'm not an 'it'," Draco muttered.

"Honestly, Raco, did you have to marry Hermione?"

"Yes, Hagly, I did." Drake sounded bored, and Draco got the impression that he and Potter said this exchange a lot. "Did you honestly have to convince Ginny to quit Quidditch?" Drake mimicked.

Potter glared, but even Draco noticed there was no visible anger on his face. "Yes, I did."

Mia sighed and turned to Granger. "See? They still fight all the time. They talk to him more than to me when they come over."

"Only because we love you and we want that prat to know you were our best friend first," Weasley said in what he probably thought was a consoling way.

"It doesn't matter. If Hermione's my wife, you should stop spending so much time with her," Draco said crossly. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop it. There was a sudden pause and everyone in the room turned to stare at him. Drake was scrutinizing him, and Mia's mouth was slightly open in shock. Weasley and Potter's eyes had widened. Lizzie was smirking. Granger had paled, and there was a stunned expression on her face.

Draco nearly gagged as he realized what he'd said. "Not that we'll ever really be married," he heard himself saying. "As soon as we find the Time-Turner it'll all go back to normal . . ." He was vaguely aware that he was babbling, but it didn't seem to matter, not even the continuing stares he was getting from everyone.

There was an odd expression on Granger's face. She glanced up and their eyes met briefly. Suddenly Granger smiled slightly, and Draco, before he knew what he was doing, had stopped talking and smiled back.

Draco gave an inward groan as a smirk spread across Potter's face. He reddened as Potter and Weasley exchanged a glance. Suddenly it seemed as if they had never left the past; the future wasn't much different or improved if Potter and Weasley were still there to annoy him, which they obviously were.

"And you were our last hope," Weasley said disparagingly, giving a mock groan. "Poor us. Looks like our past selves will have to put up with their ridiculous love affair after all."

"I thought we were talking about Pansy and Weasley and the impossibility of them having a daughter," Draco said loudly, irritated that the attention was still focused on him and his slip-up. Normally he loved attention, but not when it came from him accidentally referring to Granger as "his wife."

Jamie's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I shouldn't exist?" she practically growled, her tone threatening.

Draco was not intimidated. "You shouldn't exist any more than Lizzie and Dave should," he pointed out. "But you do, which means there has to be an explanation of some kind."

Both Jamie and Lizzie appeared about to start yelling at him, but Granger interrupted.

"Jamie . . . Malfoy, er, Draco doesn't doubt that Ron and Pansy are your biological parents. But the Pansy we know would not have, erm, well, as of now she and Ron are no closer to liking each other than Malfoy and I are." She said it very matter-of-factly. Draco couldn't help but feel a bit hurt at her expressionless tone. They weren't friends, but she made it sound as if she didn't care at all. Which she didn't, argued his sensible side. And he didn't care about her at all, either.

"You just called him 'Draco'," said Weasley accusingly, and very blunt.

Granger blushed. "Yes, we're trying to be . . . friendly."

There was a long pause.

Potter looked slightly green. "Oh."

"So you explained everything?" Weasley asked.

Mia shrugged. "The most important stuff. We didn't tell them about Emily or Kenny."

"Who?" Granger asked.

"Emily's my wife," Weasley explained. "Kenny's our son."

"My half-brother," Jamie said in conversational tones. "He's in second year." She shuddered. "And he's a Gryffindor."

"Not to mention Cissa's boyfriend," Lizzie murmured under her breath, sneaking a sly look at her father.

"Weasley, if that son of yours comes anywhere near my twelve year-old daughter," Drake threatened, not finishing the sentence.

"Ken and Cissa are not dating," said Weasley matter-of-fact, sounding bored again. "Have you ever considered that maybe Elizabeth says these things just to annoy you, Malfoy?"

"Ron," Lizzie complained, making a 'be quiet' motion.

"Is Ginny here?" Mia asked Potter, who nodded, and said, "she Apparated in Hogsmeade a bit later than we did but she should be waiting for us in the Great Hall."

"Fabulous, lunch should be starting anytime now," said Mia enthusiastically. She beamed across the room at everyone; Draco scowled. He was still unaccustomed and uncomfortable for a person who looked like Granger to be smiling at him all the time. Not that Granger didn't have a mildly pretty smile, he mused, before mentally hitting himself over the head.

As they left the Room of Requirement Draco reflected on all that they'd seen in the Pensieve. Over all it had been pretty shocking. There was no way to deny that he'd offered the hand of friendship first- he couldn't even quite call the explanation ridiculous.

If Draco told the truth, he could also not deny that he had been thinking of Granger an awful lot the past few weeks; he could even recognize her voice in a crowded corridor, now. And, just like Drake had said, he had been fixating on the annoying things she did, such as when she told Potter and Weasley to ignore his provocations. Even her neat, precise handwriting and simplistic way of dressing annoyed him. She was so unlike other girls, never caring as much about her appearance or boys, like the other girls did, and it was unnerving. And, despite his pretense of hating her, Draco couldn't help but note that Granger was the only girl in their year who had not looked at him in the kind of way a girl does when she admires a boy's physical appearance.

What was worse was that once, just once, he had considered writing her a letter and venting all his feelings of frustration. That was what scared Draco the most. What if they hadn't accidentally been sent to the future; what if he had written a letter and it had all happened like Mia and Drake had explained?

If what Drake had said was true, which it undoubtedly was, then Draco was already on the verge of falling in love with Granger. He could feel the blood drain from his face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger staring curiously at him; it did not help matters.

"What's the matter?" she whispered.

"Nothing," Draco said, his throat constricted so that he sounded hoarse.

The puzzled look on Granger's face only deepened. "You're lying," she said in a disapproving tone.

Draco dearly wanted to tell her that yes, he was, and she was just going to have to deal with it, but for some reason he did not have the inclination to hurt her feelings.

Granger did not ask again, for which he was thankful, but he caught her staring at him curiously several times before they reached the Great Hall.

A tall woman with long red hair stood up instantly and, after touching Potter's arm, smiled and hugged first Mia, then Drake, and finally her son.

"Ginny?" exclaimed Granger, delighted, and Draco was relieved that her attention was no longer on him.

"Hermione!" cried the red-haired girl, enveloping Granger in a hug. "This is so weird!"

"I know," said Granger, breathless. She glanced around at her best friends, her cheeks flushed with happiness and excitement.

"I wish Hagrid were here," she said, Draco only half-listening.

"So do we!" Ginny said, sounding disappointed. "He doesn't even know what happened. Dumbledore sent a letter, but we don't know how soon it'll reach them." She turned to Draco and smiled with the same warmness Mia did.

"Hello, Draco," she said brightly. "Scared, yet?"

"Just a bit," Draco said, managing to sound conversational. He studied the only Weasley girl; he had only vague memories of her appearance in the present, yet he distinctly remembered disliking her. The word 'bats' rose unbidden in his mind, and he scowled, recalling the Bat-Bogey Hex she had put on him in fifth year in Umbridge's office.

Ginny's smile didn't falter; in fact, it widened, as if she were amused. "Obviously you two haven't started the correspondence yet, Hermione."

Granger shook her head, looking embarrassed. "No . . ." There was a pause in which Draco looked anywhere but at Granger, and she attempted the same with him.

"That'll make this all the more fun," Ginny said with surprising enthusiasm. Without so much as a pause she turned to James. "How are your classes going?"

James, looking startled at his mother's unexpected question, answered, and Draco stopped listening. Granger was looking at him again. He tried to glare at her, but his attempt was half-hearted, and he could tell she knew it.

"C'mon," she whispered, and he was jolted out of his reverie. With a start Draco realized the others were all sitting down, Lizzie beckoning for them to join.

Draco followed Granger to the end of the bench and sat next to Dave. The adults had gone to sit at the professors' table. Draco could hear soft murmurs throughout the hall, and, after curiously following the gaze of several younger students, he was unpleasantly surprised to realize they were awed by Potter's presence. Although to be fair, Drake and Weasley were being recognized, too; it was clear they were favourites on the Falmouth Falcons' Quidditch team.

"So?" asked Dave quietly as they began to eat and the hushed murmurs faded away into the normal lunchtime chatter. "What do you think?"

"About what?" Draco asked, stalling for time.

Dave rolled his eyes in reply.

"It's . . . interesting."

Dave looked impatient. "Do you believe that you're really in love with Mum?"

Automatically Draco's eyes flickered across the table to Granger; her head was tilted to the table but her eyes were glancing up at him, and she was clearly listening.

"I believe that Mia and Drake are . . . in love," said Draco hesitantly. "We're not." He chanced a glance at Granger, but she had turned her head and was staring intently at Lizzie.

"Well, do you think you could be? Maybe even friends?" Dave pressed, looking unusually solemn.

Draco felt his face grow hot. "No." Had he answered too quickly? Was it his imagination or had Granger's cheeks flushed?

Dave was silent.

"Can we talk about this later?" Draco hissed, angry at the way Granger was now pointedly ignoring him, refusing to even glance his way. Perhaps he had answered too hastily. Obviously he didn't want to be in love with Granger, but he probably shouldn't have sounded so vindictive in front of her.

For some reason Dave looked satisfied. "Sure," he agreed, and changed the topic at lightning speed, grinning slyly. "So are you going to tell us what Mum and Dad showed you in the Pensieve?"

* * *

After lunch Granger had uttered a small cry and quickly vanished from the table, saying she needed to tell Dumbledore something urgent she had remembered; blues eyes and brown hair were the only phrases Draco caught before she had whisked away out of sight. Draco, full from lunch, was now walking outside with Drake, who had suggested they abandon the group for a little while so he could explain the Malfoy family matters; it was clear McGonagall had told him of Draco's questions concerning his parents.

Just as he'd suspected-

"Professor McGonagall said you were worried about your- well, our, father," said Drake kindly as they walked in the general direction of the lake.

Draco nodded; in ordinary circumstances he would have denied the implication of being unduly worried, but in this case he was eager to know what had happened to the Malfoy estate- particularly his parents.

"What happened after Potter defeated You-Know-Who?" Draco asked abruptly; it was comforting not having to pretend his father led a respectable life around Drake, such as he sometimes did around others. "Is he in Azkaban?"

Drake slowly shook his head. Draco tried not to let his sigh of relief be too audible.

"He's still at the manor," said Drake. "There was an accident during the final confrontation, though- it was at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall. Voldemort and the Death Eaters attacked in June. Our relationship, Hermione, Mia to you, and mine, is part of the reasons the students didn't turn on each other. The Slytherins didn't exactly fight their parents, which is of course understandable, but they didn't create more chaos by joining them." Drake paused; and Draco waited patiently for him to continue.

"There was an accident during the fight. Someone's spell- Father likes to blame Potter- ricocheted off the wall and hit Father, smashing him into a wall. He was lucky- instead of being treated for almost certain permanent paralysis, like the Healers initially thought he might be, Father's only partly paralyzed. Well, not even, really." Drake struggled to explain. "He can't walk very well, and he spends most of the time in a hoverchair. The Healers could probably restore his agility but it's the price he pays for staying out of Azkaban. The Minister let him off."

Draco was silent, shocked. Lucius Malfoy, the majestic, stately figure that he knew, was confined to a hoverchair? He tried to picture one; Draco had only seen one in his life and that was when he had been to St. Mungo's with his father on business when he was about five. Supposedly they were a bit like a muggle machine called a wheelchair, except wizard ones could hover off the ground and were much more easily transported. Draco tried to imagine his father sitting in one and could not.

"And mother?" he asked finally, not knowing what else to say.

"She's fine. She's content with Father at the manor. Mother's just glad Father didn't end up in Azkaban again."

"Did most of the Death Eaters?" Draco inquired.

Drake nodded. "A few of them died- Avery, Rookwood, Aunt Bellatrix-"

"Aunt Bellatrix died?" Draco interrupted, once more surprised. He could picture his aunt's face quite clearly in his mind, but only from photographs in the Daily Prophet. He had only seen her once after he had been a toddler, and that was when several Death Eaters had come to the manor on business. She wasn't very friendly, he remembered.

"Who killed her?"

Draco looked grimly amused. "Several people tried to. Potter was after her blood for killing Sirius-"

"Black?"

"Yes."

Draco remembered the numerous Daily Prophet articles that had appeared after fifth year when the Death Eaters had been caught the first time; Sirius Black, to the surprise of most of the wizarding community, had been proved innocent, and there had been a lengthy tribute following the announcement of his death, proclaiming him a hero and giving him the Order of Merlin, First Class.

"Did Potter kill her?" Draco asked idly, half-hoping for another reason he could use as an excuse to annoy and provoke Potter. Of course, in his own time period Bellatrix would still be alive; there went that idea.

"No," Drake said. "It's actually quite funny when you think about it. He tried to, but Longbottom stopped him."

"Longbottom?" repeated Draco, trying not to let on how astounded he was. They had reached the Quidditch pitch and had begun walking its length. "Why?"

"Because he wanted to kill her," replied Drake. "For what she did to his parents."

Draco struggled to remember all he knew about the Longbottoms. As far as he recalled they were in St. Mungo's, incurably insane. His stomach tightened as he imagined his own parents in that situation, and for once he felt nothing but pity for Longbottom, and perhaps the tiniest bit of guilt for jeering at him the past years.

"So did he?" asked Draco quietly, not much caring that it was his own aunt he was talking about.

"Yes," said Drake, glancing at him, seemingly worried at how his younger self would react.

Draco struggled with his conflicting feelings for a moment. Part of him wanted to be furious at Longbottom for killing his aunt, but another part was resisting. After all, when had Bellatrix ever shown any family feeling? He couldn't remember ever caring for her safety in the present when she was alive- and could he honestly blame Longbottom for wanting to kill the person who had incapacitated his parents?

Perhaps not.

"So what happened to Longbottom?" Draco asked, not much caring for the answer, simply using it as an excuse to speak.

"Oh, he's around," said Drake vaguely. "He married an American girl, I

believe . . . we saw their daughter, Megan, earlier."

Draco nodded, remembering the plump, cheerful Gryffindor who'd greeted Drake and Mia in the Gryffindor common room.

"Are you okay?" Drake asked, looking sympathetically at him.

Draco was not used to acting, or seeing himself act, that compassionate. "I'm fine," he reassured him. "It's not like the future is unchangeable . . ."

Drake, slightly disconcerted at his answer, didn't respond. When he did open his mouth he hesitated, looking unsure. "Draco, we were watching you after you came out of the Pensieve . . . have you-" he struggled to find words to continue. "Have you been thinking of sending Hermione a letter? Did any of what I said sound familiar?"

Draco didn't need to ask who the "we" referred to; it was unnerving to know he was being more closely watched than Granger. Did they consider him unstable? he wondered, both amused and annoyed at the thought. The next moment, remembering the question, a nervous feeling rose in his stomach again. It was clear from his expression that Drake already knew the answer.

"Yes," he admitted at last. "I- I have. But I'm not going to send her a letter," he added hastily, lest Drake misunderstood him.

Drake nodded, more to show that he had heard than to show it was something unexpected.

"Do you really think she's that bad?" he asked quietly.

"You did," Draco shot back, alarmed at the prospect of having to answer that particular question; the simple truth was, he no longer knew how he felt about Granger. The only thing he did know was that she was proving to be much less aggravating than he's previously thought.

"I did," Drake conceded. "I don't deny that we were once enemies." There was the barest hint of a smile on his lips. "And it's still hard having such a brilliant and intelligent wife; it's easy to be jealous, sometimes."

"I'm not jealous of her," Draco said instantly.

Drake eyed his closely. "I'm not saying you are . . . but I know I was sometimes envious of her grades." Draco didn't reply to that, and so Drake continued.

"I know Father always said that muggleborns were inferior, and even now I have to admit that my pride would still like to be able to rightly think that we have a touch more power because of our background. But we don't," Drake said bluntly. "At least not in comparison to most muggleborns. And I suppose, after going to school with Hermione of all people for six years, you do know that it's true."

Draco, irked at having the truth put aloud in words, once more did not respond.

"Maybe," he said grudgingly, after a few moments of silence had passed and their route had begun its way back to the castle. "She could be an exception."

"She could," Drake said, amused. "Hermione is an exceptional-" Looking as if he did not know whether or not to call her a "girl" or "woman," he settled on, "Female."

"She's awfully boring, though," Draco said.

Drake winced. "Well . . . it depends if she's working," he said hastily. "She can be quite fun." The rest of their walk to the Entrance Hall was spent with Drake recounting a winter several years ago when Mia had enchanted the snow around their house to turn red and green so a full-scale Slytherin vs. Gryffindor snowball fight could ensue. Apparently she and Pansy, who had sat out of the fight, ended it was a "bang" by dumping two bins full of the colored snow over the fighters' heads just after the fight had finished.

"And who was in this fight?" Draco asked as they approached the stairs.

"Blaise, Ginny, Potter, Weasley, Fred and George, the kids," Drake said vaguely. "Fred and George took turns playing on our team because the Slytherins were so badly outnumbered. Not that we would've needed their help, of course."

"And who won?"

"We did," said Drake with not a touch of modesty.

Just as they reached the Room of Requirement, which had temporarily been taken over as their headquarters, the door swung open to reveal Lizzie. Her cheeks flushed and her voluminous blond hair (which, unlike her personality, could actually be traced back to the Malfoy line) was slightly wind-blown. She beckoned Draco in, but stopped her father from entering.

"Mum's talking with Dumbledore; something about a girl Hermione saw in the past. You're not allowed in here," she informed him. "None of the adults are. Harry and Ginny are visiting Dobby, and Ron went to find Kenny and Cissa."

Jamie, standing on her tiptoes, peered over Lizzie's shoulder. "It's a private teen meeting." Her grin widened. "And we'll know if you try to hear what we're doing. Harry lent us the Map." An identical evil grin spread across Lizzie's face. Unlike Draco, who was utterly bewildered, Drake did not seem to need an explanation for the odd words. He merely nodded, muttering something under his breath.

"I've told Potter not to give you that thing."

"Yes, but he never listens," said Lizzie, even though Drake's comment had been rhetorical. "I think it's mostly to spite you."

Drake rolled his eyes before heading in the opposite direction. Draco watched him leave, and then followed the girls into the room, where they instantly took seats next to their boyfriends. That left, unfortunately, only one place for him to sit.

With an inward sigh Draco sat on a small couch next to Granger, who was seated primly on the other end, clearly trying to be as far as away from him as possible. He grimaced at her, and she glared back. Draco didn't quite know what had gone wrong between them; perhaps he really had hurt her feelings at lunch when he'd acted as if he despised her. Feeling the tiniest bit guilty, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but she was looking at Lizzie, who was speaking animatedly.

"Perfect! I knew Dad wouldn't think to take it!"

"Take what?" Draco asked blankly.

"The Pensieve," Dave said, and Lizzie nodded emphatically. Draco's heartbeat seemed to quicken slightly at the prospect of seeing more explanatory memories.

"Of course, we can't see a lot of the good ones," Lizzie continued, sounding faintly disappointed. "Like the one after Potions. This Pensieve has an anti-peeker lock on specific memories. Mum or Dad has to actually call out the memory themselves and say some kind of keyword. We've never been able to guess theirs."

"You could tell us about the Potions one, though," said Jamie slyly.

"But we won't," finished Granger, as if they had been speaking one sentence. Draco nodded absent-mindedly, but it didn't appear that she had been waiting for him to agree.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Fine, Mum. Anyway, there is one memory we'd like to show you, and it doesn't have a lock on it. It probably should, considering what it . . . is." Was it his imagination or were she and Dave scrutinizing him, Draco wondered.

Granger looked alarmed. "Are you sure we should be looking at them without your parents' permission? They're their memories, after all."

Lizzie shrugged impatiently. "We've seen this ones lots of times. The only ones who can't see are James and Jamie, because this particular memory does have a non-family lock on it. But they know all about it," she added, as Jamie frowned.

Granger was finally looking at him. Draco met her eyes, which were searching his for a reaction. Draco shrugged, not knowing what to say. Granger looked mildly disappointed, as if she had hoped for him to put up a fight. To his surprise, though, Draco wouldn't really mind seeing another Pensieve memory. They were a lot easier to believe than verbal explanations. Besides, from the way the four future teens were behaving, it was clear this was an important, intriguing memory.

"Fine," said Granger shortly, sounding, to Draco's amusement, angry at herself for her obvious curiosity and lack of argument. The twins looked satisfied.

Lizzie quickly tilted the Pensieve towards them, Dave gripping the other side. Draco and Granger leaned forward simultaneously, and her soft brown hair brushed against his shoulder. She smelled exquisite. Draco tried to focus on the silvery depths of the Pensieve, which were growing steadily closer with each passing second. In a moment his nose would be touching the strange substance which was neither gas nor liquid, but a little bit of both . . .

There was a sudden jolt, not unlike the ones he had experienced using Portkeys. Draco instinctively put out a hand to regain his balance. Miraculously, he did touch a wall and managed not to all over. Dave did as well, but neither Lizzie nor Granger were quite so graceful. Granger had only not tipped over because she had grabbed his arm, which she was gripping quite tightly.

"Sorry," she muttered, letting go the second she had righted herself. Draco rubbed his arm self-consciously, trying to ignore the fact that she obviously loathed touching him. In order to avoid any chance of meeting Granger's eyes and seeing the dislike in them, Draco glanced at their new surroundings.

The couch, table, bookcases, and a strange square device (it was obviously muggle) indicated that they were standing in a spacious living room. The soft carpet was a light shade of pink, and the furniture was turquoise. The mahogany bookcases practically overflowed with books; some titles, such as Hogwarts, A History, were familiar, while others, such as Little Women, were not. Everything was neatly arranged, right down to the polished table, on which the only two objects on it (a paper book that read TV Guide and several rolls of parchment with neat handwriting on it) were placed directly in the center. The room ended in a doorway and another opening into a different room, one that he assumed to be the kitchen judging from the tile flooring and the edge of counter he could see. Alternating yellow and violet curtains trimmed with the opposite color covered several windows on the far wall. A few pictures hung on the wall; several were muggle photographs of people Draco didn't know, while others were people he saw every day: namely Potter and Weasley. He automatically grimaced at their photos, which were smiling and waving. There was also- he blinked- a picture of him on a side table next to couch. On the opposite wall, above and to the left of the muggle device, was a photograph of himself and Granger. Drake and Mia, Draco corrected himself. He would never be in a photograph with Granger, not if he could help it. What an ugly picture it would make if the inhabitants were glaring at each other all the time!

He stole a look at Granger. She looked surprised as well, and a bit thoughtful, as if she had an inkling to whom the house belonged to. Draco did, too. Considering this was Drake and Mia's memory, it was only likely that this was one of their houses, and considering that Draco would never have any photographs of Potter and Weasley hanging on his walls . . . He blanched at the thought.

So, this was Granger's future house. It wasn't that bad, he thought, giving it a second glance now that he had determined the owner. It was very clean and orderly, just like Granger. The colors were a nice mix (though a bit feminine), and the furniture wasn't at all shabby. The room, though obviously smaller than the ones at Malfoy Manor, was spacious enough for his standards. In fact, considering it was a Gryffindor's house, it was quite nice, actually.

"Lovely house," Draco whispered.

"Thanks," said Granger automatically, taken aback. Lizzie beamed around the room fondly before sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs primly; despite the difference in hair colors, she looked eerily like Granger. Dave sat on the floor by a bookcase just as the door on the far side of the wall opened and a woman walked in.

Just as he had predicted, it was Mia. She was humming softly, dressed in a light jacket as if it were early spring or late winter. Taking if off and hanging it on a coat rack next to the door, she walked into the kitchen briefly. She was cradling something in her hands, but Draco couldn't make out what it was. Neither could Granger, as she craned her neck, scrutinizing her double impatiently.

Mia walked back in and over to the couch. Draco automatically stepped further away, and Granger quickly crossed to the smaller couch. Lizzie, however, remained exactly where she was sitting, even though within a moment Mia was sitting barely a foot from her. It was then that Draco saw what she was holding and a wave of nausea instantly passed through him.

Mia held a white ferret.

He turned from Lizzie to Granger so fast, he could have sworn he heard a crack. The Gryffindor's eyes were wide, and she was biting back a smile as she stared at Mia. He glared, furious, from one twin to the other.

"Mum found it in the garden," Lizzie said in perfectly normal, reassuring tones.

Draco stopped himself from giving a sigh of relief. For a moment he had thought . . . but no, that thought was too horrible to contemplate.

"What were you doing out there, little guy?" Mia cooed at the ferret, which stood tensely on her hands, looking around. Draco tried not to gag; though they had worked with ferrets a few times in Transfiguration before and after the . . . incident, he was still not used to them, and didn't think he ever would be again. Which was a shame, because before- well, before, that, he had thought they were all right creatures, tricky and clever just like Malfoys, which, come to think of it, was probably why that foul teacher had . . .

Granger was trying not to laugh, and he quickly changed the horrified, pallid expression on his face to as indifferent as he could make it under the circumstances.

"I'm sure I have something around here you can eat," said Mia, still coddling the ferret. "Maybe you'll eat some cat food."

She put the ferret carefully on the cushion before going back to the kitchen. Granger cautiously approached the couch where Lizzie still sat, and eyed it. The ferret, of course, took no notice of the visitors, and did not even flinch when Granger put her hand on it, or rather, through it. Draco could not imagine for the life of him why she was touching it. Did she think it was- he gulped- cute? He was pretty sure that was what he had looked like when it had happened, which meant she would also think he was cute. That was an even more disturbing thought. And slightly interesting.

Mia came back in with a small plastic dish of cat food and placed it in front of the ferret. He ignored it, turning several times on the couch in a manner quite similar to the cats Draco had seen in his lifetime, before stretching out languidly on the couch. Mia looked put out for a moment.

"You can't stay here for very long," she said rather regretfully. "My boyfriend's coming over, and he doesn't like ferrets very much."

Lizzie snorted, and Draco flushed very, very red. Granger looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or be mortified.

"Not that you two don't have things in common, though," continued Mia, a twinkle in her eye.

Dave and Granger, to their credit, were trying awfully hard (and not succeeding very well) not to laugh. Draco did not find it all amusing, and half-hoped Drake would stand her up.

"He's coming back from France tonight," Mia was telling the ferret, as if she thought it was actually listening. "He's been in Marseilles for a Quidditch game and press conference." She sighed. "I'd be with my friends only Ron and Ginny are in France, too, and Harry's working." She petted the ferret absent-mindedly as it looked at her almost quizzically, still ignoring the food.

"But Draco's coming back tonight, and we're having dinner here," she said brightly. "Which means you'll have to be gone or hidden by then." Mia laughed. "Perhaps hidden since you didn't seem to like the garden, and I don't know where to find you a home on short notice." She looked at the ferret fondly. "I don't care what Draco says, but ferrets are awfully adorable."

Granger was choking on contained laughter, but Draco didn't see any reason why she should be. It was her double that was acting so besotted over a stupid ferret! And ferrets were not adorable. Well, unless Draco was the ferret, because Malfoys were adorable in whatever shape they were in, but, unfortunately for the poor species, he was not planning on turning into a ferret again anytime soon. Just for good measure he made a face at Granger. Draco smirked; she was probably starting to regret her promise to not mention it again.

She made a face back, a real smile lighting up her features. Draco was entranced by the high curve of her cheekbones when she smiled, the pale flush brightening her cheeks, and the sparkle in her eyes. He wrenched his eyes away, his heart beating uncomfortably fast, and paid attention once more to the ferret.

Mia got up and went back into the kitchen. Soon they could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing and the clatter of cutlery. A moment later she came out with a full wine bottle and put it on the table with two delicate wine glasses. She hummed cheerfully as she tidied up the already clean room. When the table was set and a delicious aroma was coming from the kitchen, Mia went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Granger sniffed the air. "I learned how to cook!"

Dave shook his head, giving her a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, but no. Dad can cook better than you can. Mum made that magically."

Granger looked only slightly disappointed. When the bedroom door reopened Mia emerged wearing a dark blue velvet blouse and a long, lavender skirt. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a necklace with a single shining diamond at the end. She was absolutely beautiful. Draco glanced at Granger, trying to discern any of Mia's visibly enchanting beauty in his classmate. She looked just as surprised as he did. Her hair was pulled back just as Mia's was, if not as elegantly, and if she were wearing the right clothes Draco had the distinctly unsettling feeling that she would look just as radiant as Mia did now. Granger caught him staring and flushed, looking defiantly back as she thought he were comparing them and thinking her distasteful. Draco wanted to tell her he thought nothing of the sort but didn't know how to without making a complete fool of himself. And so he didn't say anything, quietly watching Mia for her next action.

She glanced at the clock, evidently flustered, and it could only be assumed that Drake was late. Mia rearranged the table settings ("Perfectionist!" Draco muttered to Granger who made a face in reply) before going back to the couch and picking up the ferret. The next half hour seemed to fly by, and Draco had the distinct impression that time was going faster in the Pensieve, that since this was only a memory, the passing of time depended on how it had been perceived. Or, judging by Granger's small yawn and Dave's bored expression, perhaps that was only his impression.

After a while Mia, visibly exasperated, got up, presumably to find out where Drake was. She walked over to the fireplace behind the table, grabbed a handful of what could only be Floo powder, checked her watch a final time, and said, "Malfoy Manor!" She disappeared with a flash of green fiery light.

Draco would've been entirely unimpressed if Lizzie's expression hadn't suddenly changed to that of interest.

"Why aren't you here?" Granger demanded, wheeling to face him.

Draco was quite taken aback. "What?" he responded wittily.

Granger flushed with anger. "If we're supposed to be having dinner, where are you?" To his amazement, she sounded hurt, as if he'd actually stood her up.

"I don't know," he said automatically and a bit more defensively than he'd have liked.

"Well, it's very rude of you-" Granger began. She stopped, her attention caught on the ferret, which had suddenly leapt from the couch and run into the bedroom.

"Is it going to mess up my room?" Granger asked indignantly, jumping up to follow it. "I don't want a ferret on my bed!"

"Other than Dad, of course," Lizzie said conversationally. Draco gave her a glare and left the official rebuking up to Dave.

Draco followed Granger into the bedroom. The ferret had run to a chair beside a desk and jumped from it nimbly onto the dresser.

"See the things you can do when you're not bouncing?" Granger whispered, sounding perfectly serious.

"You said you wouldn't mention that," Draco hissed in her ear.

"Technically I didn't. And besides I wasn't teasing you, I was just pointing out how acrobatic ferrets are." They watched silently, closer together than they would have been consciously comfortable of, so that Draco could've put his arm around her shoulders if he'd had the inclination to.

"What is it doing?" Granger demanded. It was obviously a rhetorical question but Draco answered anyway.

"Probably trying to hide so I don't feed it to anything when I come over."

"You're planning on coming, then?"

"I don't break dates." Usually, he added mentally.

Granger scrutinized him so closely he almost felt violated. Luckily they heard the whoosh of the fire signifying Mia's return and Granger turned away.

"I bet I'm here," Draco muttered to her as they exited the bedroom.

"Bet you're not," she shot back.

Indeed, when they saw Mia standing in front of the grate, there was no Drake and Granger gave him the tiniest of nudges in the chest. Strangely, he didn't mind the touch at all. Mia sighed and walked back to the couch. Looking extremely glum, she picked up the controlling device on the table and turned on the muggle box-like object. A picture appeared on the screen, but Draco didn't have time to marvel at the eccentric-looking red haired lady and her husband, a man of darker complexion who was shouting with a terribly heavy accent.

Granger was tugging at his arm insistently, and he had no choice but to look at the despicable ferret, which had emerged from the bedroom as well.

"What do you have in your mouth?" Mia asked, frowning at the ferret as she looked away from the muggle object. "Did you take something from my room?" She picked it up and cradled it on her lap. A small, glittering silver box fell from the ferret's mouth into her hand. Mia stared at it curiously and then opened it without hesitation.

A sparkling ring gleamed from the box, its brilliance bedazzling.

"That's a diamond," said Draco immediately, recognizing it from the many similar jewels he had seen in his mother's possession.

Mia stared at it in shock, her eyes wide.

"Handy little bugger if it can find diamonds lying around," Draco admitted, but Granger ignored him. Her face was white, her eyes wide. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and then back at the beautiful ring. Had she never seen a diamond before in her life? he wondered. Her reaction was strange, even for Gryffindor standards.

Mia opened her mouth as if to say something and closed it abruptly, obviously struggling to speak. Then, without any explanation, she said the last thing Draco would ever have guessed.

"Yes, I will."

Draco stared at her confused. The ferret looked innocently up at her. It was then he saw that Mia was smiling and her eyes glistening as if with unshed tears.

With a flash the white ferret had disappeared and sitting on the couch next to Mia was Draco Malfoy. Well, it was Drake to be more exact. Draco's jaw dropped for the first time in many years. He tried to make a sound, any sound at all, but all he could do was make a strange gargling noise. To his even further shock, Granger did not look all that surprised.

"Wha- tha- I-" Draco blustered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"What's going on?" Dave supplied, and Draco nodded fervently.

"I think you just proposed," said Granger very matter-of-factly.

Draco had thought his jaw could drop no lower.

"I just- no I didn't! That's a- what happened to the ferret?" His mind refused to accept the only logical conclusion it was presented with.

"You were the ferret," Granger said, still staring at Mia and Drake. Draco gagged before he could stop himself, and received an unwanted look of pity.

He glared at her. "I did not turn myself into a ferret to propose to you."

As if he were purposely trying to embarrass Draco to the fullest extent possible, Drake said right on cue, "Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?"

Granger had the decency to wait to speak until after Draco had finished his second panic attack. "I think you just did."

"Yes," said Mia again, and without any further words the couple kissed. It was an actual kiss this time, not a discreet touch on the cheek. Draco, who hardly ever blushed, wouldn't have been surprised if his face had been crimson in a mirror. Granger didn't fare any better. She was the color of Weasley hair. It was a very interesting analogy that he didn't ever want to think of again. Finally, given that Drake and Mia showed no sign of parting even after a full minute had gone by, (Draco was not optimistic that this would be ending anytime soon- the last time he had timed one of his own kisses it had lasted for four minutes and 46 seconds) he was forced to shield his eyes. Unfortunately, by looking away, which Granger had also done, they were staring straight at each other. To concentrate on anything other than Granger, no matter what age she was, he listened desperately to the blaring muggle object.

"'Lucy, you've got some 'splainin' to do!' "

That didn't make any sense either. 'Splainin' wasn't even a real word.

Draco wondered if one could faint from overheating. It was very distracting and disturbing looking at the girl he so despised when her older self was currently making out so passionately with his older self less than three feet away.

"I assume you two want to leave now?" Dave had stepped forward in between them, glancing from one to the other as he tried to keep a smile off his face.

"That would be nice," Granger choked out, wincing as she accidentally caught another glimpse of the ongoing kiss.

"Yeah, me, too," said Lizzie hurriedly, an uncustomary shade of white.

"Liz doesn't like watching Mum and Dad being all romantic," Dave explained, still with a hint of a grin.

"It's disgusting," she sniffed, her nose in the air. The scene began to dissolve, and Drake and Mia mercifully disappeared as well. Draco was almost positive he heard Granger give a sigh of relief.

"And will my grandchildren say the same about you and James?" Draco couldn't help but inquire. They materialized back in the Room of Requirement, the Pensieve lying once more in front of them on the table.

"I thought you said Lizzie wasn't allowed to marry a Potter?" Granger asked, also smiling shakily.

"She's not, but I'm sure they'll manage to have a few illegitimate children."

Lizzie made a strangled noise and then stomped over to James, who, not having heard the first half of the conversation, merely gave them a confused glance.

"Well, what did you think?" demanded Jamie, her eyes lighting up with glee. Draco sat down slowly, thankful to have the soft couch to lean on. He was still a bit shaky.

"I think I must've squashed the ferret when I Apparated," he began.

"Very funny," Lizzie cut him off. "You turned yourself into a ferret to propose to Mum. It's not a secret."

Draco glared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do," put in James, grinning as well. "Supposedly it's the sweetest thing you've ever done."

His cheeks were once more growing warmer by the second.

Granger looked skeptical. "Why was it so sweet, exactly? I don't see how my boyfriend turning himself into a ferret is so . . . adorable." She grimaced.

"It was the second time he'd proposed," Jamie said.

"What?" Outraged, Draco turned to face Granger, who was still standing, clearly not ready to sit beside him again after the intimacy they'd seen. "I proposed to you and you turned me down?" That was unheard of. Girls never turned Malfoys down, especially when it came to marriage. Most girls would consider themselves lucky if a Malfoy proposed to her! Granger didn't look all that disappointed at the new revelation, he noted grumpily.

"Dad asked Mum when they were twenty but she said she wanted to wait until she'd finished her extra courses and explored her options a little more," Dave said. "And, it was an ongoing joke between them that she would only marry him if he was willingly turned back into a ferret."

Draco was uncomfortably aware that everyone in the room was looking at him. "That is never going to happen," he said hotly. "Never."

"Drake's a lot sweeter than you are," Granger said almost inaudibly.

He stared at her, amazed. "You want me to turn into one of those bloody things for you?" There was silence while they glared at each other. Draco could not believe that she was complaining about this. Did she not understand what terrible creatures they were, how traumatizing an experience it had been? Clearly, she did not.

"I don't see what's so embarrassing about it," Granger finally answered, looking almost mutinous. "Obviously he loves her, so it couldn't have been that much of a sacrifice for him."

"You do realize you're talking about us?"

"Not you, clearly, since you don't seem to have an ounce of romance in you."

Draco glared at her furiously. Her face was red again, but this time with anger. What was her problem? Did she want him to do something like that? Since when had she started caring about how he treated her? Or had she gotten some misguided idea based on Drake's actions that he actually felt anything but animosity for her? His old feelings of contempt and enmity returned in a rush.

"I'm not Drake," he retorted meanly, reclining on the couch and glancing up at her like she was nothing more than an annoying bug that was not even important enough to be swatted. "And, in case I haven't made this clear all ready, I don't like you."

There was again a silence, this one stretching longer than before, and much more awkward. Granger blinked suddenly. Draco forgot his look of despise and revulsion for a moment as he tried to discern if she were crying. He frowned; that was not supposed to happen. Granger was not supposed to cry over something he'd said. Making girls cry was not on the agenda. But if she had been going to, Granger pulled herself together and finally sat down on an opposite loveseat, glaring at him as if he, too, were something to be ignored.

"You are a silly, immature little boy," she said with supreme disdain, and that was all. It was Draco's turn to blink with surprise. How dare she! he thought, impressed at her nerve despite himself.

"Do you guys want to know any more details?" Lizzie asked nervously when she judged it safe to speak.

"Yes," said Draco through gritted teeth. "Seeing as how I still don't understand why I even asked her to marry me in the first place-"

"Or why I accepted-"

"Or why I didn't leave her at the altar-"

"That's enough," said Dave abruptly. Draco and Granger, both taken aback by the usually complacent, quiet twin's outburst, stared at him.

"Why do you have to be horrible to each other?" he demanded. "You may not be our real parents, but this stuff did happen. And I know you guys don't hate each other." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but stopped himself, for which Draco was extremely grateful. Something told him that it would only be embarrassing for both of them if Dave continued.

"Fine," said Granger at last, irritated. Draco repeated the word, not to be outdone or look petty in comparison in front of the others.

Lizzie gave them an indulgent look of satisfaction, as if she had solved the whole problem by herself, and continued.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted." She paused in the hopes that they would feel appropriately guilty. "Dad proposed when they were twenty, but Mum said no. She loved him and told him so, but didn't want to be a wife yet." Draco glared at Granger out of the corner of his eye, but she was once more pointedly ignoring him.

"A year and a half later Grandfather got sick."

"You mean his father?" Granger's voice dripped dislike.

"Yes. Problems from his legs and pneumonia confined him to bed for a few months, and after that the doctor said he probably wouldn't live that much longer." Lizzie bestowed upon them a very woeful dramatic expression.

"He was only in his late forties," Draco said skeptically, his heart beating faster at what he'd just heard.

"Well, yes, but he got hit by a lot of curses in the last battle. And besides, it didn't look like Mum was going to want to be married anytime soon, and he really wanted to have grandchildren and Malfoy heirs before he died." Granger's eyes narrowed at the words "Malfoy heirs" and she shot a look of loathing at him that Draco pretended not to notice.

"He invited Mum to the manor for private chats with him and Grandmother," Dave added. "Trying to see if she was at all interested in marriage."

"She felt awfully sorry for him and so Grandfather told Dad to plan another proposal. He put the ring box in her dresser drawer ahead of time and came home early from France, staging it so Mum would find him outside." Lizzie glanced at Draco for a few seconds, practically daring him to deny it.

"Please don't stop on my account," Draco said coldly. "I'm just as interested in hearing what Drake did."

"Mum accepted since she knew how much it would mean to Grandfather and Grandmother. Plus, they were really in love," continued Dave.

"But Father's better?" asked Draco, remembering what Drake had told him earlier in the day.

Jamie and Lizzie exchanged a look before laughing simultaneously. "He wasn't sick in the first place. Do you think Lucius Malfoy of all people could be killed before reaching fifty?" asked the Slytherin wryly.

"He wasn't sick?" Granger repeated blankly.

Lizzie shook her head, biting back silent laughter. "He tricked Mum and Dad. He and Grandmother conspired together along with a doctor that they paid to diagnose him. Grandfather thought it was unseemly that Dad and Mum weren't married already- you know how old-fashioned he is- and he was tired of waiting. He faked the fatal illness, pretending he only had a few more years to live, and then told everyone after the wedding."

"What?" Outraged, Granger spun to face him as if it were his fault. "Your father tricked me into marrying you?" Thinking of the Lucius Malfoy he knew, it sounded highly unlikely when put that way.

"Father doesn't like Granger," Draco said, frowning in confusion.

"Yeah, but he knew you weren't going to marry anyone else, and it would look really suspicious given his reputation if he paid someone to off her. And he didn't mind her that much once he got to know her. Grandmother likes Mum a lot. Well, except for what she did to the House Elves."

"What did I do?"

"Freed them and then re-hired them for wages. Grandfather didn't speak to you for weeks because technically you didn't even live in the manor."

"At least this idiotic marriage has one good result," said Granger, sounding positively delighted. Draco was horrified. She had freed all the House-Elves and insisted on paying them? That simply wasn't done in refined pureblood families. Well, it wasn't pureblood anymore with her in it.

"Hey!" exclaimed Lizzie indignantly. "Dave and I don't count as good results?"

"No, I think it's pretty much only Cissa," mused James, who had to then duck his girlfriend's swipe.

"What did you mean when you said Granger wanted to 'explore her options'?" Draco demanded, glaring again. "There are no better options than Malfoys!"

Lizzie gave a happy sniff, as if she had been shedding tears of joy. "Ah, Malfoy arrogance . . . I love it!"

"She meant options such as jobs, places to live, etc.," said Dave quickly.

Draco stared at Granger mutely, privately considering the memory they'd witnessed. On the one hand, it had actually been a very sweet thing for him to do, but it was also completely unlikely. He thought of the white ferret that was supposedly him and a shudder ran up his spine. He hadn't thought he'd ever be comfortable with them, much less in five years; he still wasn't even tolerant of them! It was obvious that Granger had guessed what was coming. Her widening eyes when she'd seen the diamond was because she'd understood what it meant, not because she'd never seen one before. Now that he remembered she must've seen the one Mia was wearing around her neck; perhaps Drake had given it to her. It was, now that he thought about it, a creative proposal as well. And the fact that Lucius Malfoy of all people had deviously manipulated it all was astounding. Draco knew his father hated muggleborns, and despised Granger in particular because her good grades always exceeded his son's. A foreboding feeling began to grow in his abdomen. If his father could accept Granger, then all things were possible . . .

Lizzie stood and stretched. "I'm going to find Cissa so we can introduce you to her, and then I'm going to go pick out my outfit for tomorrow night's dance with Donna and Megan." She waved to them, giving Draco and Granger a particularly wicked grin before exiting.

"Yeah, I need to go hang with some snakes for a while," said Jamie, also standing. She winked at them. "Don't you little lions do anything I wouldn't do."

"I resent that!" Draco called after her retreating back. "I'm a Slytherin, too!"

"Quidditch?" James asked Dave quickly, shooting them a look that Draco may or may not have imagined.

"Sure," replied Dave just as quickly, and with smiles that were too big to be innocent, they too had left.

Draco stared at Granger in dismay, now the only other occupant in the room. The others had done that on purpose, leaving them alone together.

Granger forced a polite expression that was somewhere between a fixed smile and a grimace onto her face as she stood. "I'm going to find Mia." She did not ask if he was coming, simply turned away and headed for the door. Draco followed her without hesitation; at the moment she was no where near his favourite person but being with her would be better than being left entirely alone twenty years in the future.

"You don't actually want me to do something like that . . . do you?" Draco asked as they walked down the empty hall, when the oppressive silence between them had become too overbearing to handle.

She shrugged half-heartedly. "No, probably not. I mean . . . it is you, after all." It was not meant to be necessarily offensive, just a simple stating of fact, that she and he could never be what Drake and Mia were, nor would Draco ever considering turning himself into a ferret. Draco nodded his head in acceptance.

"But it was sweet," Granger added impulsively, staring now into space. "I don't know which was more romantic . . . that one or the one outside Potions." Draco, discomforted by the direction the conversation was headed in, did not say anything.

"The one we just saw was definitely-" she glanced quickly at him, "funnier." Draco stiffened, and Granger silently judged his reaction.

"But I promised I wouldn't tease you about it," Granger said at last, a trace bit sorrowfully. "And I suppose that includes this."

Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at the portraits along the walls they passed, a small smile on her face that made it only too obvious what she was thinking about. An image of her ecstatic glee should he permit her to honorably break her word filled his mind.

Finally he sighed in defeat. "All right. You can talk about it. Just this once." He tired to sound irritable and failed miserably. Granger was delighted.

"I can't believe you didn't see it coming when Drake showed Mia the ring box! It was clearly an engagement ring, and the ferret looked exactly like you did when the fake Mad-Eye Moody." She struggled for words and settled on, "Bounced you."

"I think the more appropriate word is 'transfigured'."

"I like my word better."

Draco attempted a frown at this description, but couldn't manage one. He grinned reluctantly, an unexpected lightness filling him at how happy Granger was, as she compared this to his moment of humiliation. He thought it would be suffering to listen to, yet with her talking about it so naturally, no venom in her tone or spite in her eyes, it didn't seem quite so embarrassing, more of a funny story that could be told to friends and family.

"The look on your face when Drake reversed the spell was hysterical."

She laughed, and a genuine smile lit up his face as he watched her. Granger paused, breathless and surprised by his gaze.

"What?" Her eyes searched his for explanation.

Draco could still hear her amused laugh in his head. "You're just . . . you're funny, Hermione," he said, barely aware that he was using her regular name. "And I like that I-" He caught himself, his abrupt halt bringing him back to reality, and Draco wondered in amazement how he could've been about to say such a thing.

"You like what?" Hermione asked slowly, her eyes still not leaving his. They stared at each other for a moment, Draco wondering if he dared say what he'd been planning to.

"Draco?" She said it tentatively, as if not sure if he wanted to be on such familiar terms.

Hearing her speak his name, though, ended all contemplation. "I like that I can make you laugh," Draco said simply and truthfully. "Instead of just making you angry." Who said that Gryffindors were the only brave ones at Hogwarts?

Hermione automatically laughed and then stopped, worried she'd offended him. "I like that, too," she said, sounding almost shy, smiling again. There was an awkward silence, and Draco wondered if he had chosen rightly in deciding to finish his sentence. He was not at all comfortable with the way their fights continued to miraculously end so quickly, yet what he'd said was true. It was getting awfully tiring fighting with Hermione all the time, and her smile was very pretty now that he spared it more than a cursory glance.

"Do you think you'll go to the dance at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?" inquired Hermione politely, as they approached the Great Hall.

Startled and surprised at so blunt and ambiguous question, Draco did not reply immediately. Did she mean for him to go with her, he wondered uneasily. Despite their attempt at a tentative friendship, he still did not think it was at all plausible or possible that he and Hermione could ever have more than that.

"I might. There probably won't be anything better to do all things considering." He eyed her cautiously, intensely curious as to what she would say next.

Hermione nodded and then, to his even greater surprise and slight dissatisfaction, shrugged indifferently and headed into the Great Hall.

"I thought you were going to look for Mia."

"I am after I have some dinner. I'm starving."

Now that she mentioned it, Draco realized with a jolt that he was quite hungry as well, and readily followed her to the Gryffindor table. If Jamie had been present he would've felt more inclined to sit at the Slytherin table and get to know his friends' future descendents better, however she was not there so he joined Hermione without complaint.

He chatted amiably throughout lunch with Ian Thomas, who was quite intelligent and, if he recalled the commonly used muggle term correctly, a bit of a nerd. Hoping to know a bit more about the family history so he could connect other of his classmates, Draco steered the conversation in that direction.

"My dad was in Gryffindor just like I am, only he didn't like all the schoolwork like I do. My mum's the same- her name's Lavender," he added as an afterthought.

Draco recognized the surname "Thomas" as being in his year and he could somewhat place a face to it. Anyhow, he didn't think Ian's father couldn't be a pureblood otherwise he would've recognized the surname as being that of an old wizarding family. But for some reason lineage didn't seem to matter anymore.

"And who are your parents?" Draco asked, turning to Sean and Sam.

"Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson," replied Sean promptly.

"George Weasley and Katie Bell," answered Sam just as quickly.

Draco obviously knew who the fathers were and was pretty sure that the mothers were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He vaguely remembered hearing their names in the commentary. The four boys chatted for a few minutes on Britain's Quidditch leagues and what the scorings were currently in the Hogwarts' games. It was a relief that even a quarter of a century in the future Quidditch was still an internationally and chronologically appropriate and safe conversation topic.

"We're tied with Slytherin and beating Ravenclaw by ten points," Sean said before saying that he and Sam were Beaters on the team. There was something ironic about their positions, but it took Draco a few seconds to remember why. He glanced up at the teachers' table and caught sight of Snape staring at him, an eyebrow raised. Draco returned the facial movement. Snape's eyes flickered in dislike from the Gryffindor boys to Hermione who was chatting with Donna and Megan and back to Draco. He was suddenly uncomfortable with his teacher's close scrutiny, and hoped Snape wasn't getting any ideas about him and Hermione, nor indeed any of the other Gryffindors.

"Drake?"

"What?" Draco asked instantly, snapped to attention at the uncertain calling of his name and was greeted by a waving hand in front of his face.

Ian withdrew his hand. "Mia's been calling you."

"She has?" Draco wheeled in his seat to look for the adult Hermione but didn't see her anywhere.

"Mate, she's right there," said Ian, tapping him on the shoulder, now confused.

Draco glanced down the bench and saw Hermione looking at him expectedly. Only then did he remember that they had told Ian and the other future Gryffindors that Hermione was Mia.

"Right, thanks," he muttered and stood.

"Do you have any idea where Mia is?" he muttered to her out of the corner of his mouth as they exited the Great Hall.

"No." Hermione deliberately paused at the foot of the stairs, debating where to go when they heard a voice call out their pseudonyms. Well, he called out Hermione's fake name, anyway.

"Hermione," Potter said urgently, using her real name as soon as he had gotten close enough to avoid being unheard. Once more he ignored Draco, but then, it wasn't a great loss.

"Mia's in the Ravenclaw common room talking with Professor Flitwick, and she wants you to come."

Hermione's eyes lit up at the mention of seeing Ravenclaw's common room and she immediately set off with Potter. Draco purposely stayed behind, waiting to see when his absence was noticed.

"Draco, aren't you coming?" Hermione looked at him expectantly, but he only assumed a cool expression aimed at Potter.

"I wasn't invited."

"Of course you were, so come on," said Granger almost imperiously, sounding quite unlike herself so that Draco had to squash an automatic smile. He glanced pointedly at Potter, who was glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Hermione gave a sigh of exasperation as she understood his intention.

"That's absolutely pathetic, Draco."

"I prefer to think of it as deliciously annoying," he bantered back.

"By all means, come with us," said Potter through gritted teeth, and then muttered, "At least Draco's obnoxiousness is amusing." There was no need to clarify that by 'Draco' he meant Drake.

"You just said my name- his name- our name!" Draco exclaimed, shocked into forgetting that he was going to henceforth pretend Potter wasn't there.

Potter sniffed, but his cheeks reddened slightly at the slip of tongue. "Of course I didn't. Goodness, are you imagining things now, Malfoy?"

Hermione chuckled and began walking again. Temporarily satisfied that Potter had been forced to acknowledge his existence and that he could gloat to Drake about what Potter had accidentally said, Draco followed.

Potter led them up several flights of stairs to a landing with several paintings and a tall, full-length mirror. Draco glared at Potter's reflection.

"Wonderland."

Hermione gave a start of recognition and beamed upon hearing the password, but Draco had no idea what it meant and was not about to ask. Doubtless it was some silly muggle term that had absolutely nothing to do with magic.

The mirror's surface shimmered, and Potter's reflection wavered. Then the surface turned blank color that was not quite silver but nor white. It reflected nothing, and without hesitation Potter stepped through it, disappearing.

Hermione laughed. "Through the Looking Glass. How clever," she exclaimed without explanation before she, too, stepped through. Draco glanced at the now empty walkway beside him and then walked through the mirror.

He emerged to join Hermione and Potter in the Ravenclaw common room. Draco stared at it, drinking in every detail as he had done upon seeing Gryffindor's. The walls were a rich, light-colored wood, and the carpet was a dark blue. Several tables had been placed around the perimeter of the room and on the far side was a roaring fireplace. Ornate, plus armchairs of every shade of blue filled the room and there was a book shelf along the opposite wall, a commodity that had not appeared in the Slytherin or Gryffindor common rooms. A large portrait of a stately, majestic woman holding an eagle perched on her arm hung above the fireplace with the inscription, "Rowena Ravenclaw."

The common room was practically empty, as most students were still at dinner. Turning back through where they'd come, there was a mirror on the wall identical to the one outside. Draco followed Hermione to where Mia was talking quietly with Professor Flitwick at the side of the room, unnoticed by the few students doing homework. Drake and Weasley were there as well, and all three looked worried.

"She's still missing?" asked Potter in a low voice.

Mia nodded shakily, and Drake put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. Draco barely noticed not minding the public display of affection when a few hours ago he would've been disgusted. After seeing the full-blown snog in all its glory in the Pensieve, he didn't think there was much else the two could do to disgust him, unless, of course, he saw them . . . but no, that thought was simply too heinous to even imagine.

"Who's missing?" asked Hermione sharply.

"Narcissa," said Mia worriedly, her face paler than normal.

Draco wasn't as surprised as he should have been. After all, there was only one person in the future they knew of in Ravenclaw and with so many grim faces, there were a limited number of conclusions he could come to.

"Have you searched the whole castle?" asked Hermione.

Drake nodded distractedly. "We thought it was unusual we hadn't seen her all day, but sometimes Narcissa gets preoccupied with something and disappears for hours working on something."

"Sounds familiar at all?" Weasley muttered.

"But she wasn't at dinner and none of her friends have seen her all day. The ghosts are all searching, but she doesn't appear to be on the grounds," finished Potter.

"Miss Lauren Finnigan is missing, as well," said Professor Flitwick, his voice still squeaky. "I believe the two are best friends?"

Mia nodded, her frown deepening. "If they're lost together there's no limit to where they could be."

"They're probably somewhere on the grounds," Draco objected. "How far could two students go?"

Was it his imagination or were Potter, Weasley, Mia, and Hermione all sharing a look? Come to mention it, Professor Flitwick and Drake also seemed amused by the question.

"Let me rephrase that," Potter said, a twinkle in his annoyingly bright green eyes. "A daughter of Mia could be anywhere."

Draco glanced from one of his companions to the next and saw no discrepancies in opinion.

"We'll find her," said Drake comfortingly, glancing at Mia in such a way that Draco was forced instead to stare at Weasley's face. He pondered trying to count the freckles and then decided it would be not only impossible but completely beneath acceptable Malfoy behavior.

Then again, he had used to think that being friends with a Gryffindor was unacceptable. Glancing at Hermione now, Draco thought it rather a shame he hadn't tried it before.