He had barely got up again from when he had gone back to sleep, had still been with messy hair and unshowered and in his joggies (as Aideen called them), had not even had breakfast when Mrs Callaghan had opened the front door and had let out a shriek.

A fearful shriek. Aideen had paled opposite him on the table — and he had sprung up from his chair, his wand drawn. His wards had been done perfectly — he had thought. But obviously, they did not alert if any wizard stepped through them, or he hadn't done them correctly. Still, there had been no time to even think about it.

"Draco," his father had said imperiously. "You owled me."

"Yes," he had said, choked.

"Draco?" Aideen had called from the kitchen. "Gran?"

"You will not hex me again, are you?" Mrs Callaghan had asked and Draco had looked at her, a steely glint in her eyes.

"I," his father had begun slowly and Draco knew him well enough to see that he was struggling for words.

"Yes?" Mrs Callaghan asked.

"Draco...is that your father?" Aideen had asked, had taken his hand.

His father had looked at the two of them, then back at Mrs Callaghan. "I was not in control when this curse happened."

Mrs Callaghan had snorted. "Is that an apology?"

Father had looked awfully embarrassed — but a second later, he had nodded.

"Fine, then come in for a spot of breakfast," she had said and had gestured towards the kitchen, with a last questioning glance at Draco.

They had followed slowly, him and Aideen, her still paler than usual and the rings around her eyes had not lessened any and both of them had sat down, still holding hands.

He had not expected this — and so he sat then, very surprised, that his father — Lucius Malfoy — accepted a cup of tea from Mrs Callaghan and took a deep breath.

"I understand that..." his father begun and Draco, frantically, searched his brain for a way to let him know that Aideen, so far, didn't know about magic. If he started with the entire obliviating-matter now, the cat would be out of the bag. And the wrong cat — from the wrong bag.

"Father, this is Aideen," he interrupted quickly. "I wrote you about her," he continued, trying to convey with his eyes that he didn't want him to mention magic. Or anything concerning magic.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr Malfoy," Aideen said with a smile but she looked so tired still.

"Aideen had a little problem with someone the police has yet to find," Mrs Callaghan said sharply and Draco was very, very grateful about her quick thinking.

It seemed that the knut had dropped then and his father nodded slowly. "Draco informed me."

An awkward silence fell over them and Draco only hoped his father...well, it was different from what he had expected. He hadn't expected him to react so calmly, to sit there and have a cup of tea with two Muggles and him. And him having a Muggle girlfriend. His father was not ranting, he was not throwing hexes, he was only sitting there, more or less peacefully, the pinky outstretched as he lifted the cup to his lips. He had not expected that. His father even seemed to half-smile at Mrs Callaghan and he looked quizzically at him and at Aideen. He couldn't help himself and wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his side, pressing a kiss on her temple all the while he stared at his father challengingly.

And his father — nothing. Only the corners of his mouth that twitched ever so slightly. Like his godfather's lips when he was close to smiling or downright laughing.

That couldn't be — his father — Lucius Malfoy — being okay with him being with a Muggle. A common Muggle. Those he used to call names, those he looked down at, those he despised even though he hadn't known any of them. Of course with Mrs Callaghan, everything had changed and even more so when he had met Aideen and had fallen, head over heels in love with her. When he noticed that his godfather lived as a Muggle, that Aideen was one of the nicest, cutest, loveliest people he had ever met, that Severus had only improved by being a Muggle and that Mrs Callaghan was always there for him when she needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on. She had sat with him, both of them united in their worry about Aideen when she had been missing. She had made cup after cup of tea. She had sat with him, had sometimes held his hand, had sometimes just tried to smile encouragingly. She had never shown any kind of weakness even though he knew she had been just as worried as him. But she had been a strength, a stay, she had supported him when it was 'only' his girlfriend and her granddaughter.

His father though — he looked with a kind of approving on them and on Mrs Callaghan.

"Do you work somewhere?" his father asked suddenly, looking at Aideen.

"I still go to Uni," she said quietly. "And...but I don't...I usually live alone but I don't..." she looked around panicked and gripped Draco's hand tightly. They hadn't even thought about that yet. Of course she couldn't live alone. He wouldn't have that. Not at all.

"And what do you study?" asked his father, skating over her panic, ignoring it almost.

"Medicine," she said voicelessly and suddenly, Eleanor jumped up from her chair.

"Draco, Mr Malfoy, you don't mind if I take Aideen for a bit of shopping? We're all out of, erm, washing powder."

Hermione took a deep breath before she knocked on the door and gripped the handle. The secretary had been no problem — one look at her face and her probably determined expression and she had just waved her through and so she stood there, a speech in her head, more or less inspired by Teddy that morning.

He was a cute child. A bit picky when it came to food and he had made sure — rather carefully — that the entire banana was all around the kitchen. He had eaten marmalade-toast-soldiers though and had drunk a bit of milk. But his treatment of the Daily Prophet really had inspired her. And the solution was so simple. She and Harry and Ron, they had that kind of power.

Ron — Ron had been perfect with the baby. He had fed him, actually, it had been his idea with the toast-soldiers. It had been him who had cleaned up the banana-mess. He truly tried to make amends, to make up for the time they had lost and that was just wrong.

Yes, technically, he had broken up with her but it was only because he had beaten her to it. It wasn't because he was the bad guy and she was the good girl. It just was the right thing to do, actually. But the loss of that formerly so strong friendship had probably hit him hard — as it had hit Harry hard. She herself — she was glad to have Ron back but she couldn't deny that it was a bit awkward as well. He showed only the good side at that time — only the positive Ron and she knew that he had his bad sides. That he was short-tempered and that he would probably not always be quite so kind to Teddy.

Teddy was...well, he was a baby. He threw mashed banana around the kitchen and he tore the Daily Prophet to pieces. He smeared marmalade on the paper and on his face. Yes, he was cute and he always seemed to smirk and his hair changed colour but he was a toddler. What was she supposed to do with a toddler?

Still, he had to be credited for her idea and this would work. This always worked.

"Minister," she smiled broadly as she stepped into the office. "Your lovely secretary let me through..."

"Hermione," replied the Minister, baffled, and put a bit of parchment away.

"I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I am sorry about what I said, I was simply distraught and still very worried about my friend," she continued, sickeningly sweet. But oh, Snape would be so proud of her. She had put all the Gryffindor she had in herself behind. There was nothing remotely Gryffindorish about this. This was pure Cunning (and yes, that capital C was even in her head). This was as best as she could do.

"I understand," said the Minister friendly and gestured towards a chair and waited for her to sit down — sitting down with the most pleasant smile on her phase. "Tea, Hermione?"

"No, thank you. I just had breakfast," she replied pleasantly.

I was very happy to get your email. Is this afternoon to early? If not, meet me in front of the Starbuck's on St Ann's Square at a quarter to six.

Love,

Annie

"Has...the entire incident been confirmed?" asked his father slowly.

"Veritaserum, yes," Draco replied, puzzled.

"I will see what I can do with the Ministry," he drawled, then took another sip of his tea, obviously finishing his cup. "Would you mind," he said after a pause, "to refill that cup?"

Draco frowned but looked around and when he was certain that Aideen was nowhere close by, he summoned the full tea pot and refilled his father's cup.

"Father..."

"Draco, do you know why and how all those prejudices against Muggles started?" he asked slowly, spooning some sugar into his tea.

"Muggles are not as powerful as wizards are?" Draco asked, absolutely confused. "And we should rule over them because we're better?"

Father waves it off, impatiently, it seemed. "No, no, that is the prejudice today. Or the fact, depending on who you talk to. I was asking what those were based on."

He remained silent. It had been too good to be true for his father to just accept that he was with Aideen. Too bloody good to be true. Father took a deep breath and blew on the surface of his tea before he took another drink and with a soft noise, put the cup back onto the saucer. This was the good china — Draco noticed. The one that usually only came out of the cupboard on Sundays. But maybe this was like a Sunday with Aideen being alive...

"What do you think happens when a Muggle marries a Wizard?" his father asked, fixing him with his gaze.

"I..they live together, they're happy together," he replied quickly.

"In rare cases, Draco, yes. In the not so rare cases, no. Would you have considered Summoning that tea pot if that girl of yours had been near? The way I understand, she hasn't been told what you are, who you are. You're hiding yourself from her. And this is exactly where those prejudices, facts, started. A Muggle is married to a Witch or a Wizard. What happens? They live together, they're happy, yes, if they both think their equal. If a Muggle believes himself or herself to be less than the Wizard, they will never be happy. Why? No, let me finish. Because he or she does not have the gift of magic. Your Aideen would have to get up to get that tea pot, you just lounge there, raise your wand and with a spell you're taught very very early, the pot will fly into your hands. A Muggle doesn't have that possibility. In effect, they feel a little more worthless than a Wizard, especially if you do not only Summon tea pots, but do everything magically. You will always have an advantage because you can do most things faster and better than a Muggle. And there you have the prejudice or the fact that Wizardkind is better than Muggles. It was them, however, who started this, not wizards. So, if you fall in love with a Muggle, as you, obviously have done, you have a choice: either tell her about your magic or keep it a secret. The secret will work temporarily, you're proof of that. And it might continue to work — but if you have, one day, children and they start showing accidental magic, what do you do? Tell her then and risk that you're accused of lying the entire time or still keep it a secret? If you do, and even now, Draco, you are hiding who you are. You are not showing her Draco Malfoy, she only gets a side of you and that side is not even true. You Summoned that tea pot instead of getting up. You hid. You're hiding. If you tell her, you obviously risk that she won't stay with you because she's afraid of not being able to do the same things you do. And if she does stay with you, will there be resentment? Maybe not now, maybe not in a year or two but eventually. You live longer, you stay younger longer, you have better health most of the time. And she's a Muggle. She will die eventually, sooner than you, even if she inherited her grandmother's span of life..."

"Father?" Draco interrupted.

"No, Draco, do not talk while I talk. You have a choice. You can either end this quickly, or don't end this at all and have it ended for you. She's different from you. She doesn't know your world and she will never be as comfortable in it as you are. Why do you think purebloods started marrying purebloods? Not only to keep the bloodlines closed, to keep the blood pure but because both parties knew what to expect. She can't know what to expect from a future with you and neither can you from a future with her," he stood up slowly and looked at Draco. "It is your choice and you will not be blasted off the family tree if you do marry her. Those days are over but sooner or later, you will be unhappy. Your Aunt Andromeda was unhappy and she only married a Muggleborn Wizard. Those are two different worlds." He nodded, "I will see if I can find your godfather and I will see what I can do at the Ministry," he said, then turned without giving Draco a chance to speak and left the house — leaving one very confused Malfoy behind.

"So — if you obliviate my friend Aideen, the Daily Prophet, as well as The Quibbler and any other newspaper I can find will have stories about how you use Veritaserum deliberately on everyone who crossed your path. How you cannot find a murderer within more than half a year when it cost Severus Snape all of two days. Furthermore, I have written testimony of a few of your employees that you have tortured those under suspicion of having committed a crime. It's your choice, Minister Shacklebolt. As a good citizen of the Wizarding World, I simply could not keep quiet, really."

The Minister's skin went from chocolate brown to grey in a millisecond and his eyes widened considerably. Hermione, however, knowing her plan had gone according to plan, stood up and shrugged innocently. "It's your choice, really, Minister," said she before she nodded briefly and left the office. This had been a very, very good plan — and Teddy deserved a treat for that.

Thank you for the good wishes!

53. WellFormedness

Chomsky, in Aspects of the Theory of Syntax, sets up syntactic features such as CONCRETE, ANIMATE and HUMAN to account for the type of deep structure constraints he calls 'selectional restrictions'. For example, the difference between sentences like

[1]

(a) The man is sleeping

(b) *The salami is sleeping.