The Silver Envelope

Epilogue

Six Months Later

More and more these days, Draco was having what he called Blink Moments.
They usually came during odd, unassuming times. Pouring a cup of tea. Getting to his feet to go help Hermione find the book she needed from their library. Moaning about the layer of orange fur that refused to disappear from his black clothing for long. High-fiving Ginny after a particularly
good play on the pitch. Bickering with Ignoma about how much he really needed to eat (three meals a day seemed excessive, especially given how much food she always made).
And out of nowhere, it would hit him. He would blink, look around, resist the urge to pinch himself. Because this couldn't possibly be his life. His life was supposed to be cold and formal, where power and excellence and pure blood were what mattered. His lip was supposed to be curled
into a permanent sneer, his nose stuck in a scrunched, disgusted position. He was supposed tc attend parties. stuffy affairs hosted by rich wankers who only cared about his family's prestige. not Draco himself. He was supposed to have a wife he sort of hated and children whom he punished with pain and loneliness and cutting disappointment
These Blink Moments, they weren't from surprise, not exactly. Draco had been present the whole time, conscious and forward-thinking. He could hardly be surprised that the choices he'd made, which were always in an effort to create a good life for himself, had actually resulted in a good life.
But still, he sometimes had these brief, out-of-body experiences. Because his younger self, the boy who had thought his only option in life was to become exactly like his father, was still inside him, and was often stunned to see the man he had become
Take today, for instance, as he stepped into the lift at the Ministry, smiled as he pressed the button for Level Four, and took a deep, steadying breath, clutching the handle of his briefcase.
Today shouldn't be happening. Sixteen-year-old Draco wouldn't have been able to conceive of a day like this one. And even though Draco had been preparing for it for a very long time, had been working and studying and building today brick by brick, he was still amazed it had actually come.
The young Draco in his mind was afraid. Afraid that it wasn't real, that he would wake up one day and everything would be gone, and his life would return to the way it was supposed to be. That perhaps, if he blinked, it would all disappear. So to test it, he would do just that. Blink, and wait for
realitv to crush him.
Draco blinked. Nothing happened.
The doors to the lift opened, and he made his way down the familiar corridor to Hermione's office Schooling his features into something less foolishly giddy, Draco knocked on her door.
"Yes?" came her muffled response.
Instead of speaking, he pointed his wand at the floor, silently conjuring a few varieties of her
favorite flowers to grow through the gap under the door. There was a smile in her voice when she
next spoke.

"Come in, Draco."

Pushing the door open and stepping over the flowers, he entered her office.
Draco wondered if the sight of her, nearly obscured by the tall stacks of parchment on her desk. brows furrowed as her eyes whizzed back and forth over whatever she was reading, would ever get old. He doubted it. Draco had never considered himself to be a particularly patient person, but waiting for her to look up from her work wasn't difficult for him. Watching her was never boring.
Unabashedly, he stared at her, taking note of her prim, pressed blouse and the ink stains on her fingers. Her hair had apparently begun to bother her, as she'd piled it into a frizzy knot on top of her head, wand stuck through the middle to hold it in place. A few naughty coils had escaped their prison, however, falling over her face and bouncing a little when she moved her head. Draco repressed the urge to reach over and tangle his fingers in them.
He always visited her on his Ministry days, no matter how busy either of them were. Sometimes, he would simply sit here while she worked, soaking up her presence as a special midday treat.
Others, he would get her attention by pointing his wand at the door, letting the soft click of the lock sliding into place announce his intentions. Adorably, she always acted annoyed when he did this, claiming she was far too busy to take a break. Then he would smile at her and call her bluff by saying something depraved and shocking, bringing out that lovely blush on her cheeks. And then she would cast a silencing charm on the door before clearing off her desk.
That poor desk had been through a lot in recent months.
Before he could lock the door today, however, she spoke.
"Your timing is terrible, I'm afraid." She gathered up the pages she had been reading, rolling them into a thick scroll as she finally looked at him. "I have a meeting with Harry in a minute. We're going over my plans for the SOCKS provision."
"Ah yes. That's right. I forgot," Draco lied.
Hermione nodded absently, looking into a little mirror on her wall as she removed her wand from her bun, grimacing as the frizzy mass of hair plopped down around her shoulders. Draco fought a smile. She could try to hide how anxious she was about this meeting, but her hair would alwavs give her away, as if it were somehow in sync with her emotions. Desperately trving to smooth it down, she met his eyes in the mirror.
"Why do you look so pleased with yourself?" she questioned. "You usually only get that look after we...erm..." she trailed off, flushing a bit. The temptation to finish her sentence in the filthiest possible way was strong, but he resisted. He didn't want to further fray her nerves.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said. "My work has been going well, that's all."
He hid his delight as she looked at him with burning curiosity. With visible effort, she pursed her lips and nodded. She knew he couldn't speak about his work. The Department of Mvsteries was extremely careful about the release of their findings. Ongoing experiments were kept completely locked down, and even when their knowledge was ready to be put to use, it was only shared with the specific people who needed it. Poor, endlessly curious Hermione often struggled not to pry into Draco's work--which of course, he found deeply entertaining.
"Why don't I walk you to your meeting? Say hello to Potter before I leave?" he suggested.
Hermione shrugged, giving up on her hair and going to pick up a few rolls of parchment from her desk.