And Everything Nice

Chapter 6

The letter came on a Thursday.
Delivered by a stern-faced owl that didn't bother to stop for a bite of bacon, the letter sat untouched until Draco set his jaw and reached across the table. Its waxy red Ministry seal didn't go unnoticed, not by her, and from their wide eyes and bated breath, not by Theo or Narcissa, either. Even Lucius looked carefully intrigued.
Of course, as soon as Draco plucked it off the table, they all looked away, suddenly absurdly interested in the food on their plates.
That didn't mean she wasn't listening. The rustle of parchment was loud in the otherwise silent room, louder even as she held her breath. Covertly, so he wouldn't feel more put on the spot than he likely already did, Hermione peeked at Draco, watching him as his eyes scanned the page.
He didn't need to say anything. The furrow between his brows grew incrementally deeper the longer he read until, apparently reaching the end of the missive, Draco's face went carefully blank. He folded the parchment back up and slipped it inside the envelope, setting it aside.
"Draco?" Theo was the one to speak first, and his tone was cautious like he didn't know how Draco was going to react to something more than his name.
It took him a moment to respond, his jaw working steadily, sliding forward, then back. "They rejected it."
Narcissa gasped quietly, a hand quickly covering her mouth. "They what?"
"I'm going to assume that was rhetorical and you don't actually need me to repeat myself,
Mother," Draco snapped.
"Draco," Lucius warned, his tone cool and measured.
His cheeks flushed, his nostrils flaring. He dropped his eyes to the table. "Sorry," he muttered.
"What did they say?" she asked. "Did they give you a reason, or..."
She trailed off. The alternative, a cold, form rejection, was too much to wrap her head around
when he'd worked so hard.
Draco tossed the letter across the table. "Go ahead. Read it yourself." Theo quickly stood and rounded the table to read over her shoulder.

The parchment was thick and the message brief.
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
On behalf of the Potions Association, I regret to inform you that your request dated the 22nd of July has been denied.
Reason for denial—insufficient potioneer interest provided.
If, however, you are still interested in the matter of the distribution of free and reduced-cost potions, we suggest you make a donation to a Ministry-approved apothecary.
Regards,
Alexander Davies
Chairman, Potions Association
Ministry of Magic, Great Britain
She read it three times and each subsequent time, her blood pressure rose several points. "This—this is—"
"Absolute fuckery is what it is," Theo stated. Narcissa cleared her throat.
"No." Theo shook his head. "I'm just calling it like I see it. They want Draco's galleons as long as his name isn't attached to it and that's some bureaucratic bullshite." He gave Narcissa a belated wince.
"Theo's right," she said. "You need to appeal this, Draco. They want you to funnel your money into an apothecary that, quite probably, won't even use the funds to distribute potions at a lower cost."
"Or, they'll barely reduce the cost of the potions, still continue to profit, and get all the accolades for doing something so altruistic," Theo complained.
"Yeah, well, maybe my name shouldn't be attached to it." Draco stood and tossed his napkin on the table beside his plate. He glared at his father. "Maybe my name shouldn't be attached to anything."
Turning on his heel, Draco left the dining room. A minute later, Lucius stood and made his own exit, turning left from the room where Draco had instead gone right.
Theo dropped his chin and sighed. "I'm supposed to be meeting Andromeda to discuss my lesson plans."
Which meant approaching Draco and figuring out what to say would be up to her.

She squeezed his arm. "Go. It's fine. I'll—we'll be fine." Theo gave a sharp nod. "I'll be home as soon as I can."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before hurrying from the room, leaving only her and Narcissa at the table.
Narcissa cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you're in the mood for wedding planning at the moment, are you?"
From the arch of her brow and subtle quirk of her lips, it was clear she was joking.
"Not particularly, no," she admitted.
Narcissa dropped all pretenses, sighing heavily. "I wish I could say I am an expert when it comes to handling Draco, or Lucius for that matter, when they get in one of their...moods. They'll swear they want to be left alone when what they really want is to be coddled, only when you do that, you're smothering them." She snorted delicately, shaking her head. "I've found the only remedy—though it's more provisional as it doesn't really solve anything even if it makes them feel better—is, well..." Narcissa rolled her lips together, smothering a grin. "Sweets."
Despite feeling terrible for Draco, she laughed. "I can see that. Draco does have a sweet tooth, doesn't he?"
All those packages of candies and confections Narcissa had sent him over the years came to mind. Perhaps what they had all viewed as a mother spoiling her child rotten was Narcissa's way of making Draco feel better the only way she knew how from afar.
Narcissa hummed. "He does. Rivaled only by his father."
"They're both so thin." Lucius had gained back a bit of weight following his stint in Azkaban, but the man was still leaner than he'd been prior. "It's a wonder neither's diabetic."
Narcissa's brow pinched.
"High blood sugar?" she tried.
Narcissa looked aghast, eyes widening. "Sugar in your blood?"
Well, that answered that. "Never mind. Muggle disease, I suppose."
"Ah." Narcissa nodded. "None of that. As for the trim figures, that is owed to fine breeding." She paused, lips parted. "Oh. I didn't mean—"
She waved her off. "It's fine. I know what you mean. Muggles would call it genetics."
She highly doubted Narcissa was correlating blood status with an inherited fast metabolism. Narcissa appeared relieved, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

"Speaking of sweets—do you think Milly would mind terribly if I asked her to bake something?"
"Mind?" Narcissa chuckled. "She'd be delighted. Though, if you're seeking a quicker solution, might I suggest you check the cupboard nearest the icebox in the kitchen? Milly keeps it stocked with treats. Certainly all of Draco's favorites."
Hermione placed her napkin on the table and stood. "Perfect. Thank you." She was halfway to the door when Narcissa called out, "Hermione?" "Yes?"
"I'm sure you know my son has a temper and can be quick to anger, quick to lash out, but the person he's most prone to fight is himself." She sniffed, blue eyes rimmed red as she stared off into space. "He might say he wants to be alone, but what he needs is someone to fight for him, even if occasionally that means fighting with him. Which is all to say, it is near impossible to smother Draco with too much affection. If he claims you're holding him too tight, the best thing you can do is hold him tighter."
Hermione swallowed thickly and nodded. "I'll—I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." Narcissa shook her head. "No, thank you."
The kitchen was located down a short flight of stairs, tucked away near the back of the house. Milly had stressed that anything Hermione might want, she need only ask for, but her legs weren't broken and sometimes she needed to stare into a cabinet to figure out what she wanted to eat. Old habits.
Turning the corner, she drew up short, footsteps faltering. Bent over at the waist, Lucius was rifling through a cabinet, his long hair obscuring his face. She cleared her throat, announcing her presence.
Semi-startled, Lucius straightened. Sharp eyes stared out from an expressionless face—she covered her laughter with a cough. Lucius arched a haughty brow.
"You have"—she coughed again— "a little something..."
She pointed at her mouth. His eyes widened briefly before he quickly swiped at his lips, brushing biscuit crumbs off his face.
"Thank you," he murmured, and if she wasn't mistaken, the crests of his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.
"Mhmm."
He was standing in front of the cabinet Narcissa had mentioned, the one apparently stocked with sweets. And Gods was it ever. Ceiling to floor, each shelf brimmed with biscuit tins and candy boxes, cellophane-wrapped confections, and even jars of what she'd have wagered were preserves, apple preserves.

She nodded at the pantry. "Do you mind if I...?" Lucius stepped aside. "By all means."
Without a doubt, perusing the pantry could eat up a whole day. Fortunately, a package on the third shelf, slightly off-center, caught her eye. She snatched it, and—feeling eyes on her— turned back to Lucius.
He stared openly at the bag in her hands. "Caramel apple pops."
It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway. "Draco likes them." And then, for some reason beyond her, added, "They're Muggle."
Lucius cocked his head. "So I gathered." He paused. "They're not bad." Perhaps she'd buy two bags next time instead of just the one.
She could've left then, slipped away with a smile and nod, but Lucius still had crumbs on his face and was staring forlornly at the cabinet like he wasn't through eating his feelings. Like father, like son, indeed.
She'd leave most of the soothing to Narcissa, but she couldn't very well say nothing. "Draco doesn't blame you, you know?"
Something flickered in his narrowed grey eyes. "He's angry, but not at you."
Lucius turned back to the cabinet. "That's a lie, but it is...kind of you to attempt to preserve my...feelings."
The words sounded foreign on his tongue like he was trying them out for size for the first time.
"I'm not. Lying. I'm not suggesting everything is perfect between you two because it's not, but this? This isn't really about you. He's just disappointed," she said. "And rightfully so."
He continued to stare into the cabinet, but it didn't look as if he were truly searching for anything. Not something that could be found on a shelf, at any rate.
After a moment, he wet his lips. "Disappointed. My wife and I chose to circumvent most unpleasant situations such as these by giving Draco whatever he wanted and when he couldn't have what he wanted...well, suffice it to say, there were seldom occasions when together we could not achieve some means of making it happen.
"We spoiled him, I'm well aware. What a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets. Don't misunderstand, we did instill in him a work ethic, we simply made it clear that if at first traditional means do not succeed, use the other... skills at your disposal." Lucius paused, jaw clenching. "Draco is not accustomed to being told no, but I fear this is to be but the first of many no's he'll be dealt in the coming years."

Draco was no novice when it came to repudiation and ostracism, but she didn't say that. "I understand why you did it, spoiling him. I'm not saying it's right, but I understand."
"And the Ministry rejecting him, not on the basis of merit or lack thereof, is right?" Lucius shook his head, tutting softly. "Honestly, Miss Granger, if you've yet to figure it out, life isn't fair. All we can do is work to level the playing field."
"I said I understand. But even you have to admit there's a difference between working to restore justice and being self-serving. You didn't have to purchase brooms for the entire Slytherin Quidditch team to buy his position." She pursed her lips. "Not that he wasn't talented..."
"Ah, yes." He nodded. "And confunding a player during tryouts to earn your Weasley friend a spot on the team was so...just."
She narrowed her eyes.
Lucius smiled. "I hear things. And that, to my knowledge, is but one example of your honorable pursuits of justice. I do believe you're to thank for Rita Skeeter's departure from mainstream journalism."
How he knew that was beyond her. Draco knew, as did Theo, but she couldn't picture either of them divulging that knowledge to Lucius. The man was occasionally still a mystery.
"Point taken."
Lucius reached into the cabinet and grabbed out a tin of butter brickle. "My actual point is that we're all willing to go to certain lengths for those whom we love. An unconscionable act in the eyes of one is righteous in the eyes of another. We all have lines, it is only a matter of where we choose to draw them."
Lucius stared at her, one brow cocked.
Her hands clenched around the bag of suckers. "Are you—are you suggesting I do something?"
Lucius blinked. "Am I?" "Like what?"
He tilted his head, brows rising in thought. "I wouldn't dream of telling you where to draw your line, that's personal."
Oh, he could come off it. "Well, you mentioned Rita Skeeter. Are you suggesting I blackmail somebody?"
He held a hand to his chest. "Why I'd never suggest a thing like that." His lips twitched. "I'm reformed now, hadn't you heard?"

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but chuckle under her breath. Was Lucius Malfoy going to join up with another Dark Lord? No. She could believe him changed in that he no longer viewed her and other Muggleborns as inherently lesser, but to suggest that he was some picture-boy for law and order was hilarious. "What I think, is that you have no wand, you're restricted to your home, and the Ministry is and will be watching your every move for Merlin only knows how long."
"Too true." Lucius smirked. "Blackmail, Miss Granger, as I'm sure you know, requires the possession of knowledge someone desperately does not want spread. Are you currently in possession of such knowledge?"
She shook her head.
"Perhaps—hypothetically of course—you should play to your strengths. Use the tools you do have at your disposal." Tin in hand, Lucius crossed to the door. "You might be surprised at what you can accomplish without breaking any rules. Bending them, on the other hand..."
Lucius left the kitchen looking much happier than he had when she'd found him.
What did it say about her that the first thought her mind had jumped to had been blackmail? When it came to the people she cared about, her impulses could be a bit...grey, maybe. She might not say it to anyone else, but upon reading that letter, she'd wanted to retaliate against Alexander Davies, make him regret being such a peevish arsehole. A peevish arsehole who hurt Draco.
But what she wanted was inconsequential, and that was where she and Lucius differed. It wasn't a matter of the lengths she would or wouldn't go to for Draco, but rather what he needed, what was truly best for him. Maybe it would be satisfying to give Davies a taste of his own medicine, but it would a hollow victory.
Draco wanted his proposal approved, but he needed to get there on his own, to do it of his own merit, to know that it was he and he alone who'd earned it. As tempted as she'd been, and partially still was, to pen a strongly worded letter to Kingsley, she couldn't do it.
Doing nothing didn't feel right, either.
Bag of apple lollies in hand, Hermione twisted the knob to the bedroom and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn. Stewing in his misery, Draco was hunched in the armchair, a tumbler of firewhisky dangling from his fingertips. It wasn't even noon, but she wasn't about to say anything, not when he looked so pitiful.
His eyes flickered to her before he went back to glaring a hole in the floor. "I'd like to be alone if you don't mind."
She crossed the room, stopping directly in front of him. "And if I do?"

He looked up, brow pinched in a scowl. "I'm not going to kick you out; it's your room, too. But I don't want to talk. And if you insist on it, I'll leave."
Well, that wouldn't do.
Before he could stand, she sat on his lap, effectively locking him down. Her lips twitched when he glared. "Granger."
"I'm proud of you."
It wasn't what he expected. He blinked and drew his head back. "What?"
She shifted on his thigh. "I said I'm proud of you."
"For what? Failing?" Draco shook his head. "Tell me, are your standards that low for everyone, or did you lower the bar just for me?"
"My standards aren't low."
"Yeah, well, you could've fooled me." Draco scoffed. "I'm not an elf or an orphan, so go champion someone else, all right?"
Ouch. What was it Narcissa had said? Fighting for Draco might mean fighting with him? She tried not to let her face reflect just how much she hated the bite in his words.
She must not have done a good job because Draco sighed loudly through his nose. "Look, I'm in a piss-poor mood and I don't want to say something I'm going to regret. It's better if you just leave me alone, all right?"
Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what he'd said—any of it—she reached inside the bag on her lap and withdrew a sucker. "Caramel apple pop?"
Draco frowned and brought the whisky to his lips. "No. Thank you."
She shrugged and peeled the plastic off the caramel exterior, tossing the wrapper back into the bag before popping the sucker into her mouth. She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his eyes on her, watching, most likely waiting for her to speak.
Patient was not a word she'd use to describe herself, but all she needed to be was more patient than Draco. Until he caved, she could bide her time. His lap was comfortable and her candy was delicious.
After a moment, Draco huffed loudly. "Did you come in here to make me feel better or turn me on?"
Her head snapped to the side. "What?"
He was staring at her mouth, the look on his face pained.
"Oh." She looked at the sucker and then back at him. "Is this—is this doing it for you?"

Draco snorted, looking torn between aggravation and laughter. "Has it seriously escaped your notice that everything about you does it for me?" He shook his head. "But yes, you're sucking on something. Not to mention, the sounds you're making are practically pornographic."
Face hot, she stuck the lollipop back into her mouth. With an exaggerated lick, she twirled her tongue around the candy and fluttered her lashes, moaning obnoxiously.
Draco burst out laughing. "Okay, now you just look ridiculous. It's sexier when you aren't trying."
Chuckling, she offered him the sucker by tapping against his lower lip. He took it, popping it in his still grinning mouth.
Slowly, the smile slipped from his face, his mood darkening. "Sorry," he muttered.
She shook her head. "You don't have anything to apologize for. You're upset and you have every right to be."
He frowned around the stick in his mouth.
"Okay, the bit about the orphans and elves was uncalled for. You're not some project, Draco. But I wasn't lying. I am proud of you." When he opened his mouth to argue, she shushed him. "Shut up. I am and I'm not patronizing you, either. I'm proud because it's not always easy doing the right thing, but you did it anyway. You slaved over that proposal."
"Fat lot of good it did me."
She sighed. "Which is why you're going to make an appeal."
Draco rolled his eyes and yanked the sucker from his mouth. "It won't change anything. My last name will still be Malfoy and I'll still have this. Everyone looks at it, even if they can't see it, they all know it's there." He lifted his arm. His sleeve was rolled down to his wrist, but she knew what he meant. A bitter look passed over his face, his lips twisting. "I wasn't kidding when I said my name shouldn't be attached to anything." He looked at her, frowning. "I won't tarnish you by association. No more than I have already."
They hadn't discussed what name she'd take, if she'd even change her name. If she kept her name it had nothing to do with not wanting his and more to do with the hassle of somehow configuring three last names.
"Hadn't you heard?" She smirked. "I'm golden and last I checked pure gold doesn't tarnish." Arrogant words, even in jest, felt funny on her tongue, but Draco shook his head, lips
upturned. "Cute."
She ran her fingers through the fine hair at the back of his neck. "I love you. And I am proud of you. I wish you'd believe me."
She wished he'd be proud of himself, but that would take time.

Draco's jaw slid forward and back, his brow furrowed. After struggling for a minute, he confessed in a near whisper, "It's not—it's not just you. I don't want life to be difficult for our children because of their last name, because of who their father is." He swallowed and stared hard at the wall, unblinking. "I don't want them to hate me."
Her heart fractured. "Draco—"
He shook his head. "Yeah, I want to do the right thing, and sure, I want to do it for the right reasons, but part of me wants to do the right thing so the name Malfoy might be associated with something other than dark arts and Death Eaters." He sighed. "But I don't know how when I can't even be allowed to do something good because of my name."
"Which is why you should appeal the ruling."
"They're not wrong about me not having potioneer support." Draco popped the sucker back into his mouth with a frown.
That was unfortunately true. "Well..." Draco arched a brow.
Hopefully, what she was about to suggest wouldn't irk him further. "You're right. You don't have the support and I'm not sure how to change that." Draco's face grew grimmer. "But perhaps we've been looking at it wrong. Maybe instead of seeking out a potioneer, you should"—she took a deep breath— "become one."
He frowned. "Become one?" He shook his head. "You're suggesting I pursue a mastery in potions?"
She nodded. "It would put the donatory program off a few years, granted, but that way when you appeal, there's nothing standing in your way." He opened his mouth but she continued. "You'll stress the desire to see potions provided to those in need, not at some Ministry suggested apothecary, but St. Mungo's and you'll be providing both the funds and the potions. You wouldn't be a middle man, you'd be entirely in charge of production with St. Mungo's distributing to those in need."
For a long, fraught moment, Draco was silent. "You think I can do that?" He sounded so small, so unsure, and her heart broke all over again.
"Of course, I do," she said. "You're brilliant at potions and you know it."
Maybe Lucius wasn't all wrong. Only, maybe playing to her strengths, using the tools in her arsenal had less to do with influencing the Potions Association and more to do with loving Draco stubbornly, loyally, and loudly.
Draco reached back and pulled her hand off his neck. He grabbed the sucker out of his mouth and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm. "Thanks, Granger."

She worried the inside of her cheek. "And as for our children, when we have them, they're going to love you. Not because you're a Malfoy or because you donate your money to a good cause, but because you tuck them in at night, and read them stories, and teach them how to fly a broom even if it gives me a heart attack"—Draco laughed—"and because you love them. They'll love you because you'll be their dad. And one day, they'll learn about the war and the things that happened and they'll figure out that you're not perfect, that you've done good things and bad things and plenty in between, but the good you've done will outshine the bad and they'll still love you because we will have taught them that we make mistakes and deserve second chances. And they'll see how much I love you, and how much Theo loves you, and they'll realize you aren't perfect, but no one is. They're going to love you, Draco, because you will have taught them what it means to love somebody with your entire heart."
Draco swiped a hand over his eyes, sniffling loudly. "Gods, do the elves not dust in here?"
She gave a watery laugh and dropped her head to Draco's shoulder, burying her face in his neck. He continued to sniffle until after a moment, he cleared his throat. "You're a menace, you know that?"
"Why?" She lifted her head. "Because I tell you all the things you need to hear?" He nodded. "Pretty much."
He pursed his lips.
"What?"
Draco pulled the sucker from his mouth. "They're going to love you, too, you know?"
Heat crept up her neck.
"Well." She cleared her throat. "Not that we need to worry about that for some time yet."
Draco tapped the sucker against her mouth. She opened, then closed her mouth around the sticky confection that had gone tart from the apple center.
Mouth no longer occupied, Draco leaned in and brushed his lips against her jaw. "Doesn't mean we can't practice."