Years after the fall of Voldemort, in the gardens of a beautifully restored Greengrass Manor, a small, informal tea was taking place. Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, now a graceful and vibrant young woman, her health a testament to Ariana's groundbreaking cure, poured tea with a steady hand.
Across from her sat Ariana, her serene beauty now matured into an aura of quiet, immense power. And beside Astoria, looking deeply uncomfortable in his expensive but restrictive robes, was her husband, Draco Malfoy.
"It was lovely of you to come, Ariana," Astoria said, her smile warm and genuine. "It's been too long."
"My research on stellar-core enchantments has been… time-consuming," Ariana replied with a small smile.
"Nonsense," Astoria said, before turning a sharp, commanding gaze on her husband. "Draco. You have something you wish to say to Ariana."
Draco shifted in his seat, looking for all the world like a schoolboy called before the Headmistress. He cleared his throat. "Dumbledore," he began, his voice stiff. "I… that is to say… I wish to formally apologize."
Ariana raised a single, elegant eyebrow. "For which specific transgression, Malfoy? Your list is rather extensive."
Draco flushed a deep red. "For… all of it," he mumbled. "For being an arrogant, prejudiced bully for seven years. I was a fool. I was raised to believe in a power that was based on blood and fear. You… you demonstrated a power based on something else entirely. And I was too proud and too stupid to understand it." He finally met her gaze, his own grey eyes holding a genuine, if reluctant, sincerity. "I am sorry."
Ariana studied him for a moment, her analytical mind processing his statement. The apology was genuine. His remorse, a product of his wife's persistent and logical influence, was real. "Apology accepted, Draco," she said simply. "Emotional and ideological evolution is a sign of intellectual maturity."
To ease the lingering awkwardness, she offered him a small piece of information, a closing of an old loop. "I know you spent most of your sixth year pacing the seventh-floor corridor at Hogwarts."
Draco looked up, startled. "How did you know that?"
"I was aware of your… project," she said, a faint, knowing smile on her lips. "The Vanishing Cabinet. You were trying to repair it, to create a passage for the Death Eaters into the castle." She took a sip of her tea. "I also know why you could never get the Room of Requirement to open for you." "Why?" he asked, his curiosity overriding his embarrassment.
"Because I had already claimed it," she explained calmly. "I keyed its access matrix to my own magical signature several years ago. It would not have opened for you unless I had specifically willed it to. Your mission was doomed from the start." She paused. "I did, however, destroy the cabinet that winter. It was a security risk."
Draco stared at her, the full, stunning reality of his schoolboy struggles crashing down on him. While he had been desperately, fearfully trying to complete a suicide mission for a dark lord, she had been silently watching, aware of his every move, having already rendered his entire plan moot. He had been playing checkers while she was playing a game he couldn't even comprehend. He felt a sudden, profound, and strangely liberating sense of his own insignificance in the grand scheme of her plans.
Just then, two more figures arrived in the garden via a private Apparition point. It was Hermione and Daphne, laughing together over a shared joke.
Astoria's face lit up. "Hermione! Daphne! You're here!"
They greeted each other with warm hugs. Then, Hermione noticed Draco. Her smile became slightly more polite, more reserved.
Astoria saw it immediately. "Draco," she said, her voice once again firm. "You have one more apology to make."
Draco groaned, but he knew better than to argue with his wife, especially when she used that particular tone. He stood and faced Hermione. This was, perhaps, the hardest part.
"Granger," he began, then corrected himself. "Hermione." He took a deep breath. "For every cruel thing I ever said to you, for every time I used that… that foul word… I am truly and deeply sorry. It was unforgivable. My father's prejudices were not an excuse, they were just a reason. There is no excuse."
Hermione was taken aback. She had received apologies from him before, formal and stilted ones at Ministry functions. But this one, delivered in this quiet garden, felt real. She looked at Astoria's determined face, then at Ariana's calm, watchful one. She saw a man who was being actively, lovingly, and logically forced to be better.
A small, genuine smile touched her lips. "Apology accepted, Malfoy."
They all sat down, and for the next hour, a strange and unprecedented thing happened. Draco Malfoy found himself having a perfectly pleasant, casual conversation with Ariana Dumbledore, Hermione Granger, and his own wife and sister-in-law. They did not talk of the war or old rivalries. They talked of new magical theories, of Ministry politics, of the challenges of enchanting alloys for deep-space travel.
Draco, to his own immense surprise, found himself enjoying it. He was out of his depth intellectually, but for the first time, he was part of a conversation that was about creating something new, not preserving something old and rotten. He saw the easy camaraderie between the three powerful witches, the way they sparked off each other's ideas, their friendship a force more powerful than any dark mark.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the beautiful garden, Draco Malfoy looked at his wife, at her radiant health and happiness. He looked at the two witches who had once been his schoolyard enemies, now the architects of a new world. And he finally, truly, understood. He had spent his youth on the losing side of history. And he was incredibly, profoundly grateful that he had married a woman smart enough to bring him over to the winning one.