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Chapter Text

Dolohov

November  1 1979

My wand arm still tingles from the aftershocks of the last curse. It finally worked, and Merlin if it wasn’t beautiful to watch that muggle’s skin peel off strip after strip. His screams are still ringing in my ears like a symphony. It had taken so long to perfect the spell, to counteract that rapid blood loss, allowing the victim to stay alive throughout the flaying, but to maintain the pain. My Lord will be pleased to hear of the newest tool in our ever-expanding arsenal of spells. 

Bella and Rodolphus open the wards to the Lestrange Manor. One of these days, I will dismantle these wards, just for fun, to see if either of them are sane enough to notice. Not that I care about their sanity, it makes them far more fun partners when they decide to break out the crazy spells. It’s freeing to not be held back by some of the more cautious followers' constant worries that we will be caught. I get to revel in the misery I cause. It’s one of the many reasons that I volunteer to participate in their nightly activities outside of their manor. 

A wave of power washes over us as we cross into the threshold, alerting us to His presence. I take my seat near his right side at the dining table, preparing to regale my Lord with tales of our revels. As we sit down, His voice rings out clear and strong, “Dolohov, I wish to speak to you after dinner.” Bella’s eyes slide to me and back to the Dark Lord before he follows his statement with a hissed, “Privately.” That one word ends any and all dissent from the Lestranges across the table.  

Dinner is a lengthy affair. Bella is in a talkative mood, barely disguising her blatant lust for the Dark Lord, though Rodolphus doesn’t seem to care much. If only my Lord would allow me to practice just one of my new silencing spells on her, then we would be done much faster and I could learn what my Lord required of me and me alone. I was not his favorite follower, no my family name was not powerful enough in Britain yet, but I was his most loyal. Loyalty had served me well, and I had been continuously asked on more and more dangerous missions and given more opportunities to display my talent. Despite all of this, my blood boils at the witch in front of me, drooling over my Lord’s robes and taking up space in his inner circle for nothing other than having a good name. I want nothing more than to strangle her where she sat, but, my patience has gotten me this far, and I will not lose it now to some bat with unruly curls who can’t seem to keep her legs closed.

After what seems like an eternity of monotony, my Lord calls me into the study, warded so heavily we might as well have been in a Gringotts vault. The power radiating off from the man in front of me is so potent that it is difficult to be in a confined space with him, but I grit my teeth, knowing this must be of some import or I wouldn’t have been called in alone. 

“Antonin, what do you know of blood magic and familial heirs?” He hisses, as he pulls a large, dirty tome from a secret compartment in the desk before me. I notice the engravings before I can respond to him, the runic markings of the Old Tongue. Markings indicating that the book is none other than the Lestrange grimoire. I had never seen a grimoire of the Sacred 28, only heard legends about the power and knowledge that they contained. My lack of exposure was not due to a lack of trying, in fact, I had broken into three different estates searching for the historical texts. However, grimoires were exclusively warded with blood magic so potent that instant death awaited those who attempted to access them without express permission. As a cursebreaker, I have studied every manner of magic, especially those considered unsavory by most. It is what makes me so capable, but I have never considered using family magic. The Dolohov family doesn’t have the same connection to magic as other magical families do. It is why I always strive to be more ruthless and to create new curses, so my Lord knows exactly how useful I am to him. Before my jaw could drop at the power in front of me and display a sign of weakness that would greatly displease Him, I school my expression and keep my voice smooth. “I know as much as the next cursebreaker. It is an area of magic I am well acquainted with. How can I be of service, my Lord?”

As I speak, he reaches back down into the compartment hidden from my view and pulls out yet another tome. The markings on the cover are similar to that of the first book, but they differ in a few key aspects. The crest adorned on the spine is the distinct feature that assures me of its identity: the Black family grimoire. This must be why the Dark Lord spent so much time allowing those simpering idiots into his inner circle. The knowledge alone was worth a fortune.

“You are familiar with blood magic, allowing an unstable magical core to be strengthened, yes?” 

“I have heard whispers of such spells and rituals, though I have never been able to learn the details of such a ritual. I know; however, that the spell loses its potency with age, as the magical core strengthened. In order to be the most efficient, it must be done early in a child’s life.” Ideas rolled around my head as to the purpose of such knowledge, but who am I to question the will of the Dark Lord. Surely, he had plans much bigger than simply giving a child more power.

“The power added to the core must be from an exceptionally skilled witch or wizard, but that very power will forever reside in the child. I wish to know, as a cursebreaker, what sort of implications might this play on the new magical core”

“I believe that the transfer would only be successful if the child was already strong enough, and with compatible magic, for the two powers to meld into one, though the child would likely feel some connection to the source of their power. I would imagine that this connection would manifest when they turned of age, but act in a similar fashion to bonds. In theory, it could make the child feel a stronger sense of obedience to that wizard or witch, though it would be far more efficient if the child was exposed to the source of the power from an early age.”

“Are you sure of this Antonin?” His left eyebrow raised, as if he was truly inquisitive and not simply confirming facts that he already suspected. A less intelligent wizard might have fallen for his games, but I knew them well and understood the true purpose behind his inquisition. 

“I am, my Lord. I am also sure that if one were able to add to a babe’s magical core when in utero, then the magic would be the most potent. Though, if the merging of the magics was unsuccessful, the babe would likely die before reaching full-term.”

A sneer grew wide on His face as he took in my words. A sparkle of amusement danced in his eyes and, without his confirmation, of course, I knew that he had already attempted such magic with less than positive results. “My loyal Antonin, would you say that our mission is important? Enough so that it should be passed along to the next generation? For the sake of magic, of course.”

“Of course I do, my Lord. These mudbloods and blood traitors pollute magic and they will bring about the demise of wizarding kind by forcing us to bow to those inferior to our might. The mission must carry on.” 

“Good. When the time comes, and I call on you again, I expect you to have more concrete answers to my questions. Certainty is not enough. Until then, I must insist on discretion. You understand?”

I nod knowingly. The Dark Lord’s plan was surely ingenious and I would assist in whatever manner I could. We would make this world anew. More importantly, I would prove my value and worth. No one would question my place at my Lord’s side and my name would go down with his, feared for years to come as one of the most powerful wizards of all time. 

I apparated away from the manor, plotting the libraries and homes I would need to infiltrate to ensure that my research was thorough. I couldn’t contain my excitement anymore, and the laugh that escaped my mouth could not be described as anything other than cruel.

Chapter Text

Draco

January 22, 1999

The screaming had only been escalating for the last hour as I paced, restlessly, up and down the hallway. My in-laws had hired a veritable army of mediwitches, but I couldn’t help but compare the screams I knew were coming out of my wife’s mouth to those of another witch in this very manor, only a floor away. 

Another shriek pierces the air and I finally give in to the nagging feeling of failing to protect a witch once again. I need to get in that room, I need to do something, anything to help. Unfortunately, first I have to get through what has been my biggest obstacle thus far, my father-in-law. I try to shoulder my way past her father, who had been standing outside the door to her bedroom acting like a guard dog. As if I, her husband, do not care about her well-being. As if I want to harm not only my wife but my yet unborn child. As if I could harm her in any way. I guess I deserve that mistrust after everything. I had hoped that I had treated her well enough to cause some of those doubts to disappear, but I can’t completely blame him for wanting to protect his daughter from a monster like me. What he doesn’t know is that I have sworn to protect and not harm innocent lives until I die. It is a promise that I will keep until I die, but one that will likely never be recognized by the rest of the world. No, I wouldn’t hurt my wife, certainly not when she was about to become a mother. I simply want to ensure that I don’t fail her like I have failed so many others. A brunette flashes through my mind, completely unbidden before I turn back to the elder man.

My stomach roils with nerves that only increase with every shriek from the bedroom, but I suppose I should try for some diplomacy. I summon every ounce of calm remaining in my body and steel myself before speaking to him, “Let me in Lord Greengrass.”

“That room is no place for a man, certainly not one like you. She doesn’t want you in with her in any instance and I will not have you jeopardize her health any more than you already have.” It is a wonder that he survived being neutral in the war. His every emotion is written plainly on his face, belying the facade of calm he is attempting to portray. I don’t need to employ my legilimency to know what he is thinking. The flash of fear in his eyes is enough for me to lose some of the composure that I had tried so hard to hold onto.

The occlusion comes naturally to me now after so much time using it as a coping mechanism. I build brick after brick in my mind, shoving my anger behind a thick, impenetrable wall. The emotion leaves me and my body feels as if it is floating, untethered, as I try to bargain with him for civility's sake, “I will only be there as a support to her. Whatever you may think of me and my decisions, she is still the mother of my child and deserves respect for that title alone. I will not have her fight through this pain without someone to simply hold her hand. You are more than welcome to stay in front of her door like some sort of bodyguard, but I will be going to her and if you choose to remain where you are, Effie will escort you to a different wing of the manor.”

At the prospect of being left alone in the dark corners of the manor, which still had yet to be cleansed of the dark magic that tainted some of the corners, the elder Greengrass shrinks away from the door. He can feel the stain left by the more deranged house guests just as clearly as I can, but, unlike me, he is not accustomed to the weight that the darkness exudes. He would never return if Effie truly did take him into certain wings, or if he did, he certainly would not be the same kind of man. I take the opportunity for granted and enter the room. 

The scene laid out before me is nothing short of chaos. Two mediwitches are running from place to place, grabbing potions, and towels, and waving their wands frantically. Another healer sits at the foot of the bed, barking out instructions to every other person in the room. At the center of the storm lies my wife, Astoria. Her long caramel hair, normally perfectly straight and styled, lies in a crumpled heap around her face. A thick sheen of sweat covers her brow, causing wayward strands to stick to her face in broken curls. The thin nightgown she has on seems plastered to her body, like a second skin. With each breath, her chest heaves, and the familial necklace that she wears glints with each movement. A ring is noticeably absent from her hand, though she hasn’t worn that for months. I watch, frozen to the spot, as another scream tears its way out of her mouth, her entire body clenching tightly at the sound. My breathing quickens and my heartbeat escalates rapidly. This is natural, she is not being tortured. Their bodies don’t bend in on themselves when they are tortured. You bend outwards, not in. She is safe. He is dead. She is safe. He is dead. I repeat that mantra over and over in my head as I watch her battle the contractions ravaging her body.

When I finally get my breathing under control, I am able to spur my feet into motion. I make it to the side of the bed before Astoria even knows that I am in the room. It only takes a split second before her curious gaze hardens into the hateful glare that I am all too used to seeing from her. Her hand darts out to grab something, anything as another contraction hits her. Whether by a stroke of luck or karma, she grabs my left arm, squeezing it so tight that I am sure I’m losing circulation. I should care, she could do irreparable damage to my arm, my dueling arm nonetheless, but I can’t bring myself to wrench her hands away. Maybe, if she keeps squeezing, they will have cut it off and I will be free of the Mark, the source of so many of my nightmares these days. 

“GET OUT!!” Astoria screams, breaking through the cloud of dark thoughts that had begun to fill my head. Her labored breathing permeates the room. “I … don’t … want you here. Go back out … in the … hallway.” Any further thoughts she might have offered are once again cut off by a throaty scream tearing through the air. A mediwitch comes from behind me, gripping my shoulders firmly, and directs me out of the room. I don't fight them as they shut the doors, though I do look back at Astoria one more time. Her glare doesn’t leave me until the oak doors have finally blocked me from her view. 

I should have known that the screams would be more difficult to hear if I couldn’t see her, couldn’t make sure that she was okay. Another scream echoes through the hallway. I didn’t take anything! Please, I’ve never been in your vault. I didn’t take anything. The knife, poised over her arm draws out the first letter, M

A brick slams down in front of that memory, locking it away. Brick after brick after brick. A wall covered in thorns. More bricks in front of that wall as another layer of protection. I list off the ingredients to a Sleeping Draught, energy leaving me as I occlude so deeply that the colors in the hallway dull.

Two blobs of flobberworm mucus, four sprigs of lavender, and four Valerian sprigs. A hand touches my knee and my wand is diving into the chin of the healer before I can stop occluding. The first layer of bricks crumbles, giving my mind a chance to relax slightly before the mediwitch undoubtedly will give me a headache for an entirely different reason than overuse of occlusion. A flicker of disgust crosses her face as she notices the subtle change in my demeanor brought on by my mind-opening. I am certainly subtle about my occlusion, but I am just so exhausted that I don’t care to put up a front with her. Not now. As I stand up, every muscle in my legs screams in protest and I know that I have been sitting for far too long. She can only be bringing me one of two pieces of news. I don’t have the hope to think of the best outcome.

“Sir . . . I wanted to update you regarding the condition of -- ”

“Are they both okay?” It just slips out. I may not hope for the best outcome, but I know that hearing any other news will cripple me. I have seen too much death, I won’t go into that cursed room if that is all I am going to be confronted with. 

“Both your wife and the baby are healthy” It takes every bit of strength I have left to hold back my sigh of relief at that “However--”

“As long as they are healthy, I do not care what else might be true. May I see them?” I don’t care that I cut off the healer. I just want to go and see for myself that they are both okay. I need to see that they are both okay. I cannot be the cause for any more harm to befall Astoria and I refuse to let this child suffer.

The healer huffs in distaste at the constant interruptions, but I can’t bring myself to care. Everyone already hates me anyway, what is one more person to add to the list. “My team has already left the manor, but if the lady allows you in her chambers, I cannot bar you from entering.” I push off the wall, nerves lighting up once more, and for the first time since Astoria said she was in labor, I start to imagine what it will be like to have a child. A little human, who will rely on me to teach them about the world. Someone who won’t look at me with contempt. Someone who will trust me implicitly. I don’t deserve this chance, but I am damn sure going to make the most of it. I take a deep breath, sweep away the last remnants of my occlusion, and knock on the door, softly so that I don’t wake the baby. No response. I knock one more time, waiting for Astoria’s voice to ring through the wood. Nothing. Maybe she didn’t hear me, but I can’t knock any louder or I could disturb the child, so I push the door open.

My eyes are drawn to the center of the room and my body acts before my mind can process the scene. Wandlessly and wordlessly, I throw Astoria off of the silk pillow she was pushing into the mattress, running towards the bed with only one thought in my mind. I will not stand by and witness any more death. I grip the pillow with white knuckles, praying to anyone who will listen that I will not find my child dead underneath the pillowcases sewn by my mother. My heart thunders in my chest, my breathing erratic as I stare down at the small bundle. Time stops and every other sound in the room fades away while I hold my breath, waiting for the precious child before me to take one of their own. A sound, almost like a whimper, leaves the little babe and I let go of the breath lodged in my chest. Like a dragon protecting its treasure, I instinctively reach for the bundle, knowing that I can better protect the child if it is closer to me. As I grab the baby, sharp pain ripples down my back, Astoria’s nails digging into my muscle. I see red. My wife, my friend, and my partner in this fucked up life just attacked me for saving our child. Saving our child from its mother. A chill runs through me as I realize she wanted to kill our child. No, not just wanted to kill our child, but actively tried to smother our child. Our perfect baby, who had never hurt a soul. A child who is nothing short of the most innocent thing in this world.

“I will only ask you this once, Tori. What in Merlin’s name were you doing? And do not try to lie to me!” My voice is eerily calm, the polar opposite of the emotions that are roiling in my very blood. 

“That is an abomination!” She shrieked. “I want it dead. I want my life back. We are still fucking stuck and I will not spend my life a slave to that, that, that thing! I don’t care what you may want, as long as I am alive, that will never be my child!” The loathing in her voice is not hard to miss. It coats every word, and I can’t help but feel a slither of fear lick down my spine at the thought that she would be so calloused. Tori, the best of us, always so calm and sweet, had so much hate in her voice that it struck me to my very core.

I look down at the bundle in my arms, at the beautiful little girl who is snuggling into my touch, perfectly unaware of the monster that she is seeking comfort from. Something in my heart snaps into place and for once, I don’t even pause to consider what my parents will think of my next actions. “I will not trap you Astoria, you know that I never wanted to make you feel like that. From this moment on, you will be free. I, Draco Malfoy, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, do name my daughter as the Heir of House Malfoy in front of magic and these witnesses. Hoc iuro me magicae.” A blinding golden light encapsulates us, magic humming between the two of us. I watch as strands of golden light wrap around my arm and encase her in a cocoon. Her bright eyes open wide at the first touch of the light, mesmerized by the show that is playing out in front of her. They are bright grey, like my own, holding so much curiosity that it makes me think back to the days when all I wanted was to learn and be the best. Instantly, I can feel the Malfoy magic accept her as its new heir. As fast as it came, the light disappears, and any euphoria I felt as I watched my familial magic claim my daughter as its own drains from my body as I turn back to my wife. 

Astoria is sitting back on her heels now, one of her manicured hands covering her mouth, obviously in awe of what just happened. I doubt her father ever explained the inheritance process at birth since he never claimed either of his daughters as his rightful heir. Then again, daughters were never meant to be heirs, but I don’t care.

I try to gather any semblance of calm that I can rally in my mind as I look at my wife. “You will leave this manor, you will return to your own home and you will never set foot on this property again. This marriage is over. You are no longer bound to me as my wife or the mother to my daughter. You will never have the opportunity to hurt her. I denounce you and I will ensure that the proper paperwork is filed at the soonest possible convenience. But as far as the family magic is concerned, you are hereby stripped of your title as Lady Malfoy.”

“Effie”  the bashful little elf pops into the room so quickly at my request, flapping her ears in her earnestness to serve me. I freed her months ago, yet she still stayed with me, insisting that I needed someone to help me cook and Astoria refused to live somewhere that did not have some type of help. “Please assist Miss Greengrass in returning to the Greengrass Estate with all of her belongings.” 

“Effie will begin packing Master Draco. The Little Mistress is very precious.” Another pop rings through my ears as she disappears, likely to Astoria’s suite to ensure that nothing is left behind. 

For the first time since I entered the room, Astoria leaves the bed, standing up tall, every inch the pureblood witch she was raised to be. She steps closer to me, stalking like a lion hunting a gazelle, but I refuse to budge and simply hold tighter to the little girl whose eyes are still wide and focused on me. I lock my gaze onto Astoria, and something flashes behind the hate directed at me, an emotion I can’t quite place and it seems like she will say something. Instead, she refuses to get within five feet of me, or more specifically, the child in my arms. She pauses at the doorway, turning back to look at the girl snuggled in my arms, snorts in disgust, and walks away. 

I don’t move, it is as if I am frozen to the spot, hoping that I won’t upset the angel I can feel pressed against me. I stare down at her, counting each breath that passes her lips as if a man possessed. The wards alert me to Astoria leaving the grounds and something akin to relief washes over me and my knees buckle, taking us to the bed. She lets out a small whimper at the sudden movement and a bolt of pain strikes my heart, a piece of me that I thought had died a long time ago. I swing my arms gently back and forth, instinct driving my responses and I lean down to press my lips to her forehead, kissing her. I whisper, keeping my voice low to lull her back to sleep, “You are mine. I will never let anyone or anything harm you. I swear that I will be a better man for you. You, my sweet daughter, are my light and my salvation.”

Chapter Text

Draco

January 22, 1999

I don’t know how long I stayed sitting on that bed, mesmerized by her very essence. I can’t look away from her face, mapping how each breath makes her mouth curve slightly and her swaddled chest rise. A loud crack rouses me from my trance and I find Effie in front of me, hopefully returning from dropping off the last of Astoria’s things. I don’t think I can see a single one of her belongings and maintain the fragile composure I have gathered for myself.

“Master Draco? Miss Greengrass has returned to her estate. Effie came to tell you that Effie took all of Miss Greengrass’ things away. Effie also needs to tell Master Draco that Miss Pansy, Mister Blaise, and Mister Theo are waiting in the sitting room. Does Master want Effie to take the little Mistress to her room?” Her ears flap proudly, and it isn’t hard to miss the look of disgust that passes the normally composed elf’s face when she referenced Astoria. I am so entertained by the fierceness in her gaze, and the protectiveness she is already displaying for my daughter until her words actually hit my ears.

“Wait, did you say that Theo, Pansy, and Blaise are here? Right now?” I haven’t told them anything. Of course, they came, I haven’t sent them any messages in over twenty-four hours. Pansy probably rallied them, expecting to find me dead in the study or some rot. 

“Yes Master, They came in the Floo and Effie told them that Master was with the little mistress and was not to be disturbed, but Mister Theo promised they would wait, and he did.” 

“I will go and find them, Effie. Would you please move her cradle into my bedroom? I don’t want her to be left alone. I will take care of her until we are ready for bed.” Effie’s disappointment is written so plainly on her face that I almost relinquish my daughter to her awaiting arms, but then the little bundle squirms, snuggling even deeper into my chest and I can’t bring myself to let go of her.

“Of course Master. I will bring a bottle for the little mistress when she wakes up.” She pops away to rearrange chambers that were never meant to hold a child, but I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, I rise, slow enough to keep her steady, and begin the trek towards my fellow Slytherins.

It isn’t a long walk, nor is it a new one, but I catch myself taking the longest possible route, explaining every piece of history to the sleeping girl as we pass through the manor. I point out my favorite hiding spots, ugly paintings that I want to get rid of, and general details about the architecture drilled into my head from years of tutelage under Lucius. Several minutes have passed by the time I reach the set of double doors which will take me into the sitting room. I am not surprised to hear raised voices on the other side. Knowing my friends as I do, they are likely debating whether they should venture out of the room and risk Effie’s wrath to find me, or simply wait me out. In different circumstances, I would sit on this side of the door for a few minutes, finding amusement in the argument that plays out in the same fashion every time that it occurs. However, as I listen to the shouts, she shifts in my arms and I know that she is about to wake up. It is the kick that I need to start moving again.

I swing open the doors to the sitting room, wandlessly, to find a familiar scene: Blaise comfortably lounging in the black, leather armchair by the fire, simply watching the pit vipers spit at one another, Theo pacing back and forth on the Parisian carpet so restlessly that he will definitely wear a hole in it, and Pansy perched on Blaise’s knees, ever the queen ready to hold court for any and all who will listen. At the sound of the door closing, the three snakes turn their attention to me. I am not sure what I expected their reactions to be, but I certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

“Give me my goddaughter, you obnoxious prat!” Pansy somehow stands from the awkward perch she was in mere seconds before and is across the room, reaching for the baby in my arms. I am too stunned to speak, but I flinch, pulling her tighter to me as Pans’ hands get into reach. Pansy looks up at me, hurt and surprise flickering in her controlled gaze. The question is evident in her stare, even if she hasn’t asked it out loud, out of respect for me or fear of the answer.

Theo has no such compunction. “And where is the blissfully exhausted, but proper Lady Malfoy, Tori?”

I know that my emotions are barely controlled and that they will all be able to read my face, but I promised them that I would try not to occlude in front of them. I breathe deep, trying to keep my heart rate from spiking, knowing that my daughter will be able to feel it from her position in my arms. “Astoria is no longer welcome at this manor, or within shouting distance of my daughter.”

The certainty of my statement is not lost on them, the snakes that understand every bit of minutia I might imbue in my statement. They don’t miss the fact that I don’t use Astoria’s nickname or the subtle use of “my” daughter and not “our” daughter.

Pansy’s hand is an anchor that holds me to the present conversation, steadying me against the tide of emotions from the day that threaten to overwhelm me, barely held back by sheer willpower. Her piercing stare holds my own and she adds more force to her voice than I have heard in a while, “Whatever happened, we will not let it happen again. You are safe with us Drake, both of you. Now, let me hold her because you look like you are about 5 seconds away from falling over.” Her voice drops to a whisper, meant just for me. “Please, let us take care of you.”

Looking down at my baby girl, I bend my head down to hers, inhaling her pure scent while pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before I squeeze her tightly once more. Then, I feel Pansy’s arms against my own, transferring the weight of my daughter with a kind of reverence that Pansy has never displayed in front of me. When Pansy finally has full control of my daughter, the taut tether I had on my emotions snaps violently and I sink to my knees, every emotion hitting me in a wave so intense that I can no longer bear their weight.

Tears stream from my eyes and I don’t even remember when I started to cry. My breathing is erratic and the room begins spinning. I desperately try to grasp onto something to keep me from devolving into the panic that I know waits just in the back of my mind. I manage to choke out, “She tried to kill her. My baby. She tried to kill. My baby. My baby. My daughter. My heir.”

Theo’s hands are around my shoulders, holding on tightly as my body is racked with sobs. We simply sit there, everyone unsure as to what to do for a few minutes, while I cry, letting each wound bleed itself dry. My eyes finally dry up and my vision clears up enough to see Pansy sitting on the ridiculously ostentatious emerald green couch that my grandfather purchased years ago. She is staring at my daughter, a look of awe and unbridled love plays across her features, as she, Pansy Parkinson, the calloused snake who tried to turn in Harry Potter, the bitch extraordinaire, the queen of Slytherin house, coos at the little girl. I mean, incoherently babbling at a little girl with no shame in the world. The scene is so surreal that I sit in stunned silence, unsure of what I did to find myself in this alternate universe.

“She’s perfect Drake. Beautiful, sweet, and utterly perfect.” I couldn’t possibly agree more. “What’s her name?”

The question is a simple one, one that shouldn’t stop me in my tracks. Yet, as I find three sets of eyes on me, I realize that I don’t have an answer. In all of our planning, Astoria and I never expected to have a girl. No Malfoys had had a firstborn daughter in nearly five centuries. The possibility didn’t even cross my mind.

“I, I don’t know. We never picked a name for a girl. If she was a boy, her name would’ve been Rowan Caelum Malfoy, but I guess that doesn’t matter now.”

Blaise, for the first time since I entered the room, speaks up. “Any particular reason you wanted that name?”

“I couldn’t, wouldn’t force the sins of my parents on my child. So we decided not to give them a constellation first name, but I couldn’t help but want that connection with them. I let her pick out the first name. She said that she picked it to connect the baby to her house.” I can’t bring myself to say Astoria’s name, not when it would imply that she cared about her child at one point in time. 

“I got it!” Theo practically screams, earning himself a hiss of displeasure from Pansy as my baby squirms. “What about Zowena? Not quite Rowena, which is overdone anyways, and I have always wanted a kid named Zoe.”

“Since when have you thought about baby names, Theo?” He doesn’t miss the fact that I don’t disregard what his name suggests. Though I won’t admit it to him, I actually really like it. It’s powerful but curious. I couldn’t think of a better fit for the quiet little girl who held every piece of my heart.

“You don’t know all of my secrets Drake. Just all my fun ones.” The wink he throws me makes me chuckle, a sound that has escaped me since this morning when fear settled itself firmly in my veins.

“While that is all well and good, she still needs a middle name, Theo. What about Lyra?” Pansy suggests.

“It doesn’t fit her. How about Cassiopeia?” Blaise’s pensive voice chimes in.

“Zowena Cassiopeia Malfoy? A bit ostentatious. Definitely has a kind of fuck you air to it. Oh yeah, that’s perfect for our girl.” I grimace at Theo’s language, knowing that with any luck, my daughter’s first word could very well be some sort of obscenity if she spent much time around him.

“Our girl? I don’t remember you being there when she was made Theo.” I can’t believe that I can joke right now, but Theo is always able to pull some sort of happiness to the room, no matter what room he is in. It is one of the many reasons that I love my brother in everything but blood.

“Well, she is going to be my goddaughter, since you like me better than Blaise. And I claim her; therefore, she is ours. You didn’t think we were gonna let you do this alone did you, mate?”

A weight, one of the many added to my burden throughout the day, flies off my chest as I realize that I was fully prepared to do this all by myself. I was ready and willing to struggle on my own. But the three people in this room, my friends, and my family would never abandon me and let me do this on my own. Instead, they are all staring at my daughter like she is the most precious thing in the world, not the monster that Astoria saw.

“I don’t believe that I ever agreed to make you the godfather to my daughter, you presumptuous bastard. She is the Malfoy heir, which means she’ll need to not get arrested before she graduates. Maybe I should make Blasie the --“

Theo cuts in before I can even finish my half-baked taunt. “Nope, not allowed. I am your best friend, and as your best friend, I claim godfather privileges. Plus, we won’t get arrested until she is at least 20. That way I have plenty of time to watch your stress. Blaise even agrees with me, don’t you Blaise?”

“Don’t bring me into this. I will do whatever is best for our girl. But don’t think that even if I am not the godfather, that I won’t be vying for the favorite uncle position.”

Pansy, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from Zowena, chimes in “I will hex your bollocks off if you even think of making anyone else this angel’s godmother. I don’t care what you do with the boys. Don’t worry Zoe, I will make sure that you are set straight. You just come straight to Aunt Pans when the boys are being ridiculous, like always, and we will complain about the annoying qualities in men. It will be great.”

“Hey! That’s my daughter you are talking to Parks. She is supposed to love me the best. Don’t start taking her away from me now.”

“She may be your daughter, but she belongs to all of us, Drake. Now, we are supposed to be celebrating her birthday so someone better go find the good firewhiskey.” 

As if her words were the catalyst for the magic, Blaise waves his hand and one of the oldest Malfoy bottles of Ogden’s materializes on the dark coffee table with four glasses. He starts pouring, and we each reach for our glasses, except for Theo who has managed to wrestle Zoe out of Pansy’s arms and into his own. 

Blaise clears his throat and announces, as if we were at a society event, “To Zoe Malfoy, the newest member of the Snake Gang!”

Another shard of my mangled heart finds its way back into place at the cheer and the firewhiskey doesn’t burn as much as usual going down. The four of us settle into varying chairs and sofas, passing around my daughter, who is now wide awake and watching everyone with that same piercing gaze I noticed earlier. I allow myself to dream of a future, of a little girl with blonde pigtails chasing peacocks around the grounds. Of the sound of shrill shrieks as we fly together for the first time. Of finding her in her snitch pajamas sneaking out of her room to find another book in the library. Image after image flashes through my mind and I make the decision to be better. No, to be the best parent for her. To make sure that she wants for nothing, but is free to choose her own path at every step of the way. To be there for all of her moments. To kiss away her pain, to giggle at her jokes, to be constant in her life, society be damned. I will throw myself into her, because if I can just earn the love she already has for me, then maybe I will be able to piece myself back together again.

I don’t know how late it is when we finally decide to get some sleep, knowing that our blissful existence can’t last forever, but Blaise gives Zoe back to me after feeding her, a bottle supplied by Effie of course. As I walk with Zoe, back up to my bedroom, I can’t hold back the smile that stretches across my face. I pass her crib on the way to my bed, but I can’t bring myself to part from her that much. I lay her on the center of the bed, strip out of my clothing down to my boxers and climb into the king-sized bed. Her sleepy eyes blink up at me and I pick her back up, holding her to my chest gently, relishing in the feel of her silky skin against mine. We both fall asleep to my soft murmuring, “You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.”

Chapter Text

Zowena

May 30, 2004

A band of sunlight peaks through my curtains, blinding my eyes while I try to wake up. Weird, Effie is normally waking me up around this time. Maybe I got up earlier than Effie. I can surprise her when she comes to wake me up. Or I could go and find Dad. Yeah, that’s what I am gonna do. I want to snuggle and he’s always super sleepy in the morning. I bet I can get him to make snake pancakes for breakfast. 

I jump off my bed, looking for my niffler slippers from Aunt Lu. My feet feel all furry when I wear them and they shine like gold. They are my favorites. Once I am all snuggled, I grab my blanket from Aunt Pans and I go to the side panel in my wall. One tap above the picture of Dad and I at my birthday party last year, one tap under the picture, then do that again. Next, I hit the left of the picture, then the other side, and do that part again. Part of the wall slides away and opens into our secret tunnel. I run down the dark stone floor and slow down when I see the wall on his end of the tunnel open. 

He is still sleeping in his giant bed. It’s so big that a dragon could sleep in it. I think that’s Dad’s best joke cause his name means Dragon. Mine means curious and Dad always tells me that he picked the perfect name for me. I think it’s too long, but that’s okay cause nobody says it all. Dad’s curtains are still shut tight and he left the whole right side of the bed open, my side of the bed. 

I remember cause I’m good at remembering that Dad’s rules are no slippers in bed. I whisper it out to Bruce, cause he sometimes forgets. I take off my nifflers before I jump, super big, up to the top of the bed. I gotta use the big fluffy blanket to crawl up cause it’s real high, but I am really good at climbing up here. I don’t waste any time when I get on the bed. I crawl over to Dad’s arm, his arm with the pretty star picture of my middle name on it, and pull it tight like my stuffed dragon named Bruce. Dad rolls over, like always, and pulls me into his chest, his chin sitting on my head like a headrest. I giggle because Dad is always silly when he is sleepy and Dad moves his head a little. 

“Morning little star. What are you doing up so early Zoe? Let’s go back to bed.” He grumbles.

I try to squirm away to wake him up, but he hugs me tight and rolls me over, tickling my belly. I laugh and squeal until he stops. Sitting up, I turn around so I can see Dad better. “Dad, don’t be silly. We have practice today. You promised I could fly all by myself this morning. And I have a surprise for you.” 

“Are you sure I promised you something like that? That seems like a very grown-up thing to do. I don’t know.” I pout, my excitement from earlier melting a little until Dad smiles super big and tugs me back into a hug again. “Of course Zoe. Just let me get dressed and we will head downstairs.”

Dad picks me up, twirls me around like we do when we practice my princess dancing, and sets me on the ground. He goes into his closet to get dressed while I look for my niffler slippers. Bruce doesn’t help me very much, but that’s okay. I still love him. 

POP! Effie comes into the bedroom, her big ears flapping fast like they do when she is nervous. She turns towards Dad in the closet, “Master Draco, I went to wake up the little Mistress, but she wasn’t in her bed. Effie has looked all over, but Effie doesn’t know where she is.” 

“Effie, please take a breath dear. She is right behind you. Zoe seemed to think that it was a good idea to get up very early and come snuggle for a few minutes. Thank you for looking out for her. Would you be able to start breakfast? We will be down in a few minutes to help.” Dad tries to calm Effie down, but she turns to me. 

“Mistress knows not to run off. Poor Effie was very scared. That was very naughty little Mistress, very naughty indeed.” She puts her knobbly hands on her hips and waves one finger at me.

“I am sorry Effie. I woke up too soon, but I wanted to see Dad. I will tell you next time. Can you forgive me? Oh also, can we make snake pancakes?” Effie’s ears flap again, but not like she is nervous. Instead, this flap is when she thinks that someone is being silly, like a laugh. I like this flap way better.

“Of course, Effie forgives the little Mistress. Effie will get the ingredients out for snake pancakes, but only because Effie loves little Mistress.” Effie pops away, but she is much more quiet than when she came in. 

Dad comes out, all dressed in his blue jean pants and a white shirt, and helps me find my other niffler slipper. It went under the bed, but I couldn’t reach it. I could show Dad my surprise now, but I want to wait and show him in the library. It is way cooler in the library. So I put on my slippers and set Bruce on the bed. Dad always says that Bruce gets too dirty to have snake pancakes with us. “I’ll be back after breakfast Bruce. Be good.” I hold Dad’s hand and skip out the door to the hallway. When we reach the stairs, Dad lifts me up high super fast and sits me on the railing. He gives me a little push and I zoom all the way down the stairs. It is the best part of the morning when I get to ride down the banister. Effie doesn’t like it, but I feel like I am flying with Dad when he does all of the fancy tricks. 

We race into the kitchen and I beat Dad because he is super slow. Effie is getting the table all set up for us and making pumpkin juice. All of the ingredients for snake pancakes are on the counter. They are my favorite because of the chocolate chips that are green and black, like snake scales. Uncle Theo says that snakes are all colors, but Aunt Pans says that we always wear green and black cause those are the coolest snakes. Dad and I start making them, but I accidentally spill the flour all over. Dad blows some at my face and I smear some on his too. Effie flaps her ears in a laugh and snaps her fingers, making the flower disappear. That is the spell that I want dad to teach me next, but I can’t learn a new one until I show him my surprise.

“Where’s my favorite Malfoy this morning?” Uncle Theo’s voice comes from down the hallway. I start bouncing in my chair, waiting until Dad nods, letting me know that I am dismissed from breakfast before I run out into the hallway, tackling Uncle Theo in a hug. He picks me up and throws me to the ceiling while I shriek.

After he puts me down, I go to hug Aunt Lu, but I have to be careful cause my new cousin is still in her belly. I don’t want to squish my friend before I meet her. Uncle Theo keeps saying that it will be a boy, but I know she’s a girl cause already have my boy friend, Luca.“Your dad said that you had a surprise for us to see this morning, and you know that I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to watch you, little love.” 

“I am super excited Uncle Theo. Do you want to see it now? We have to go to the library cause it looks cooler, but I practiced all night. And I get to fly all by myself today. Dad says I am big enough because I am a big kid.”

“Of course, you are little love. I am going to go and grab one of those snake pancakes and we will all meet you in the library. Don’t practice too much before we come in okay?” Uncle Theo looks goofy when he tries to be serious, but I nod and skip off to my favorite room in the whole manor. 

Dad, Uncle Theo, and Aunt Lu are so fast that I don’t have a chance to practice, but it’s okay cause I practiced a lot last night after Dad told me to go to bed. “Are you guys ready for my surprise? You have to watch super close.” I go and grab the feather that dad and I have been working with and put it on the coffee table in front of me. I hold my hand out, just like I practiced and I think really hard. Dad says that all of my focus has to be on the thing that I want to lift so I make a wall in my head to make sure that nothing else can bother me. I scrunch my nose and say “Wingaaah - diun Leviosan.” It doesn’t work, so I try again. A second passes before the feather slowly lifts off of the coffee table, flying all the way to the ceiling like I told it to. I think about it coming back down to the table and as soon as it touches back down, I make my walls come back down.

I look at Dad for the first time since I started showing him my surprise. He has his “I’m proud of you” face on. The one where his eyes shine like stars and his smile stretches so far that it might fall off of his head. He barrels into me, enveloping me in a tight hug, and whispers in my ear how proud he is of me. I laugh because he thinks that I am done. Dad has been teaching me how to make things fly for a while now, but I taught myself a trick that Dad, Uncle Theo, and Uncle Z use all the time. “Dad, let me go. I am not done and you are supposed to sit until the end of the surprise.”

He lets go of me kinda fast and goes back to sit with Uncle Theo and Aunt Lu, a sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. He looks just like me. I reach my hand out one more time, closing my eyes this time to concentrate. When I did this last night, I still had to build walls in my head, but I had to try a lot harder to make this one work. I focus on the feather, imagining it coming to my hand as I count to 10. It worked last night, but I hope that it works this morning. I count to 10 again and when I get to 7, I feel the feather hit my hand. My eyes fly open and all of the adults just look at me with expressions that I can’t remember seeing before. Their eyes are wide, mouths open, well except for Aunt Lu. She just smiles like always and breaks the silence first. “That was wonderful, sweetheart. You managed to get all of your wrackspurts to disappear as well. I am so proud of you. Did you learn that trick on your own?”

“Yep. Effie does it all the time when she makes breakfast, and Dad does it when he helps do my hair. I wanted to learn all on my own. Are all my wacky-spurts gone, Aunt Lu?” I hate those things. Whenever Aunt Lu sees a lot of them around me, I feel sad or mad, or frustrated. It’s a good thing that I made them all go away.

“That was brilliant Zoe! You are the brightest little witch I know.” Uncle Theo jumps up from the couch. He is wearing his happy face now, the one that he gets whenever he looks at Aunt Lu. He also has that face when he sees me, most of the time. 

“I am so proud of you, my star. You have to remember though,” Dad starts to tell me to be careful. He does that a lot, but I don’t want to listen to his boring story again so I stop him.

“I know, I know, I know Dad. I need to check with you before I learn new spells. I need to be careful so I don’t work my magic too hard. I was being careful, I promise. Bruce watched me the whole time.” 

Uncle Theo and Dad look at each other, probably wanting to see another trick, but I am focused on Aunt Lu. “Aunt Lu, are you okay? Is the baby hurting you because I can tell her to stop?”

Uncle Theo rushes over to Aunt Lu, whatever he and dad were talking about is forgotten. “Luna, my moon, are you alright?”

“Teddy Bear, I am perfectly fine, though I do need you to call the healers. I believe that my labor just began.” 

Dad and Uncle Theo seem to know what she is talking about. I have no idea. But everyone starts rushing Aunt Lu to the Floo to go back to the Nott Manor. Uncle Theo looks white, like the paper in my book so I go up and tug on his sleeve before he steps in the floo. “Uncle Theo, Aunt Lu is gonna be okay. She doesn’t have any nargles around her and the baby won’t hurt her. The baby is my friend, just like Luc.”

His eyes get all watery and he tugs my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. His scruffy chin tickles, so I giggle. “Thanks, little love. I will come back and get you as soon as we get to meet your new friend. Would you like to come over and see them?”

“Yes, please Uncle Theo! I have a toy for her, just like the one I gave to Luc.” Uncle Theo stands back up, shakes Dad’s hand, and steps through the floo.

“Dad, why can’t we go with them if we get to meet my new friend today?” 

“Because, sweetheart, babies sometimes take a while to come out and say hi. We have a few hours before Aunt Lu and Uncle Theo will call us over. Do you still want to fly while I work on my potions?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. I am going to go and get Bruce so he can watch me fly. Which potion are you making today Dad?”

“Do you remember the people in the hospital that Uncle Theo was talking about a few days ago? The ones with the purple scars? I am still working on that potion.”

“Still? You have been making that potion for forever Dad. Can you make it outside so I can watch while I fly?”

Dad sighs, but I always know when he will give in. Aunt Pans says that it is my superpower. “Fine, but remember that when you fly, your eyes need to stay on the sky.”

I nod and run off upstairs, past all the grumpy old talking pictures and up to Dad’s room. Bruce has been sitting on Dad’s bed because he is a very good pet, so I grab him and run back to my room to get all dressed up for today. In my closet, I pick my favorite jumper (it's green and has a pretty, scaly, black dragon on it) from Aunt Pans and some blank pants that Dad said were perfect for flying. I change speedy fast and then Bruce and I go downstairs, jumping down the last two. Dad is standing at the bottom with my flying gloves and my special broom. 

“Dad, if I get to meet my new friend tonight, can we bring Luc? My new friend needs to meet my old friend because they have to be friends too.”

“Sweetheart, Luca may not be awake, but we can ask Uncle Z and Aunt Pans, okay? Now, do you remember what you get to do with your broom?” He helps me finish putting on my gloves. They don’t stick right when I do it all by myself.

“Yep, I only go a little high, do two circles really slow, and then come right back down before I get to go again.” 

“That’s my girl. Have fun, sweetheart. I will be right here if you need me, but I am going to work on my potion.” Dad pulls out his big potion journal. It is really hard to read, but Dad says that if I practice more, then I will be able to read it really easily like him. I sit Bruce on Dad’s book stand, next to the journal, and head over the clear patch that I am gonna fly over. 

I fly all by myself three times before Dad and I go into the library for reading time. I am reading “Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump.” It is a silly story, but it has lots of big words and Dad says that it is important to work hard and earn stuff. Plus, this is Uncle Z’s favorite story and I promised that I would read it to Luc soon. He likes when I read to him, I can tell when he wiggles around on my lap. Babies are funny like that.

Dad and I play around the manor the rest of the day. Dad pretends to be a big, bad dragon, but Bruce protects me from his tickling magic. I have to go and find the treasure that he hid in this bedroom, but I am a really good finder, so I find Dad’s special ring super fast. Bruce was looking somewhere else, so when Dad sees me, he tickles me so much that I laugh really loud. But, dragon adventures make me really tired, so I go and take a nap with Bruce. We need to be ready to fight off the dragon later.

Effie pushes on my shoulders, gently shaking me to wake me up. “Little Mistress, Master Draco says that Effie is to wake you up because Mister Theo wants you to come to the Nott Manor.”

I jump out of bed so fast, grabbing Bruce tightly and I hop to my closet. I want to find my best shoes to impress my new friend. Aunt Pans say that girl friends are super important, specially because we are around so many boys. I grab my sparkly, silver shoes that match my eyes and dance downstairs with Bruce and a smaller, purple dragon that I have been saving for my new friend. Dad has another big smile on his face when he sees me on the stairs. I run to him, grabbing his hand, and start pulling him towards the floo.

When the fire dies down, Mopsy is waiting for us at Uncle Theo’s house. I curtsey at Mopsy, who flaps his ears in happiness. “Mopsy is to escort Miss Zowena and Mister Draco to visit the new baby.”

“Can we go fast Mopsy? I want my new friend to get her toy really soon.” Dad chuckles, and holds my hand a little more tight, probably so I won’t be scared. But I am never scared at Uncle Theo’s house. 

We walk, Dad swinging his arms in big swings with me, making me jump up super high each time, all the way to one of the bedrooms in the house. It is a big person's bedroom that I haven’t explored yet, but I see Aunt Lu’s hair through the crack in the door and bolt inside. 

Aunt Lu is laying in the middle of the bed. She looks really warm, but she is snuggled under the blankets like I do at Yule time. Uncle Theo is standing next to the bed, holding a bunch of blankets. I sneak into the room and jump up onto the bed next to Aunt Lu, staring at her belly. “Is my new friend out yet? I want to meet her and give her the birthday present I got her.”

Aunt Lu smiles, but it takes longer than normal, and she reaches over to me, brushing my hair away from my face. “Uncle Theo is holding her right now, but if you sit still next to me, he might let you hold her.”

“Really? I am not allowed to hold Luc unless someone helps cause I might drop him. Can I hold her by myself?”

“Only if you sit right next to me.”

I smile so big, like when I first flew on my broom with Dad because I get to hold my new friend. I shake my head, making sure that all of the wacky-spurts are gone, and reach my arms out towards Uncle Theo.

He looks at me, his happy face so bright like the sun, and hands me the pile of blankets that he has been holding. I look down and see that it isn’t a pile of blankets. She is so small, like a toy, and her eyes are closed, but I know that she is my friend right away. “Dad, can you get me her toy? I want to give it to her and tell her the story of the dragon. Is that okay Aunt Lu?”

“Of course darling. It’s so important to learn about dragons.”

Dad reaches down to the ground beside the bed where Bruce and the purple dragon fell while I jumped up. He sets Bruce next to me on the opposite side from Aunt Lu and gently lays the purple dragon between me and my new friend. 

“This is your dragon. Dragons may seem scary and a lot of people don’t like them cause they are big, have pointy teeth, and sometimes light things on fire. But dragons are really nice. They protect the things that are super important, like their friends and family. They are also really pretty and know how to fly. Dad gave me a dragon because my dragon will always protect me, so I got Luc a dragon last year when I met him and I wanted to get you a dragon too. Family protects you, but I wanted to give you a dragon, in case family isn’t around and you need help. You have to name it though.”

Uncle Theo puts his hand on my shoulder, leaning his head against mine. “She is really pretty Uncle Theo. What’s her name?”

Uncle Theo does this weird thing with Aunt Lu where they talk through their eyes and Aunt Lu answers the question instead. “Her name is Athena Pandora Nott. She loves your dragon darling. The fairies around her are glowing so bright.”

“I am gonna call you Thea, cause everyone I love gets a nickname. It means you are important.” Uncle Theo seems sad when he hears me say that so I quickly finish my thought, “But you can’t be Theo, cause only one person gets to be Theo and that’s Uncle Theo.”

Uncle Theo winks at me, his smile coming back to his face and then he walks to the other side of the room, taking Dad with him. They start to talk really quiet, like adults do when they are trying to keep a secret, so I start to tell Thea all of the most important stories and rules for being my friend. Aunt Lu chimes in with stories about my favorite animals and Thea snuggles in my arms like I do with Dad.

I tell her so many stories that my eyes get sleepy and I start to close them on Aunt Lu, but I don’t want to leave my new friend. There is some rustling and low voices, and suddenly I am picked up and snuggling into Dad’s arms, just like Thea. He rubs circles on my back, and I can’t keep my sleepy eyes open anymore, so I shut them and dream about all of the fun I am going to have with my new friend.

Chapter Text

Draco

May 30, 2004

It doesn’t take long for Zoe’s breathing to even out against my shoulder. She refused to let go of Athena until she was practically in Luna’s lap and, though Theo would have let her sleep with his wife and newborn daughter, I remembered exactly how exhausting a newborn was, and how protective Theo undoubtedly felt about the newest Nott. So, I gently pried Zoe’s reaching fingers away from the baby, hoping not to disturb her too much, and headed for the Floo home. 

Today had seemed like it would stretch on forever. I would never complain about the start of my day. Even though it cost me precious minutes of sleep, I wouldn’t trade my cuddles with Zoe for anything. Then, she had to go and give Effie a heart attack. Merlin knows the elf was too motherly for her own good, and try as I might convince Effie otherwise, the headstrong elf was certain that Zoe needed a mother in her life and she was content to fill that place until I did it “properly.” 

Looking down at her soft features, so undisturbed and serene, I marveled at the little girl held tightly in my arms. I had been teaching her rudimentary spells since her first display of accidental magic. That was a day I would never forget. I had, as she pointed out later, very rudely denied her a book that she wanted to look at before dinner. Before I could blink, she had blown out all of the windows in the library. Glan and Pinny, two of the original Black elves that remained loyal to me out of respect for my mother, were in a tizzy for hours trying to replace the stained glass. I probably should have allowed her to grow a bit more before I started her lessons, but she was so intelligent, her eyes always filled with that same curiosity that no amount of time seemed to be able to shatter. More importantly, I couldn’t have her be even a little underprepared. In the five years since her birth, I had received so many death threats that the Auror Office seemed to be a near-constant presence in our lives. Not to mention the scowls I received anytime I went somewhere remotely magical, places that the war had touched where my name would forever be associated with death, destruction, and discrimination. Ironic as it was since I now faced the very crime that was most often associated with Death Eaters. Regardless, I knew that Zoe was in constant danger, even if I did everything in my power to shield her from it. She would be hated, simply for carrying my last name and I refused to allow her to not use the gifts she was given. I would help refine every tool in her arsenal, so she would always have her own abilities to fall back on if something were to ever happen to me or her. 

Today, she showed me that all of my planning and teaching was the right choice to make. We had been working on levitation for a few days. Each day, she could only hold it for a second, probably less than that to be honest, until today. And not only did she make the feather touch the ceiling of the library, but she had taught herself how to summon objects. Granted, it was just a feather, but still. She could never cease to amaze me. Blaise likes to remind me that it is only because she is my daughter, but I know that the rest of the Snakes are just as awe-filled when she demonstrates exactly how much she has absorbed our conversations or how quickly she picked up new skills. Zoe follows rules to the letter, is compassionate, works hard, and takes in everything. She has more energy than a pixie, and though she is well-mannered, I often have to hold her back gently. She has yet to break my hold when I grip her hand in our subtle form of communication. She makes my job feel very easy most days, but she also reminds me of just how much I have to lose now.

I try to go through the floo as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her dreams and start the journey through the manor to her bedroom. Bruce jostles in my arms and she moves slightly, gripping the toy tighter to her. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the sight of the little dragon. Theo had been pushing dragons on her since she was born, and Luna encouraged any exploration of magical creatures. Before I knew what was happening, my daughter was obsessed with them. Theo and Luna were directly responsible for the creation of her favorite story, the dragon story, that she tells everyone constantly. I don’t even bother hiding my scowl whenever Theo giggles at her unknowing characterization of me. Pansy also refuses to let any opportunity to point out the irony go to waste. It is that enthusiasm from, well pretty much everyone, that had Pansy and I decorated her room in a pale blue paint with enchanted dragons zooming across all of the walls and the ceiling. Her four-poster bed has soft white curtains that can be drawn, though she hates when they are closed. The bed itself is covered with an assortment of books and stuffed animals, presents from her doting aunts and uncles mostly, though there is always a spot big enough for her sleeping form and that of her favorite stuffed animal: a midnight blue dragon, about the size of a niffler, that I made (with Pansy’s help) for her only a few days after she was born. Bruce, she changed the name after the last time we went to the cinema, goes with her everywhere. It makes me smile, knowing that she always has a part of me with her, no matter where she is.

I stand by her bed for a few minutes, simply drinking in her sleeping form and relaxing in one of the few moments where she is not bombarding me with questions. Every inch of me wants to pick her up, take her back to my room and spend the night with her tucked away safely in my arms, but I still have work to do. I had fully intended on finishing the antidote for the curse causing purple pustules to break out all over the afflicted person’s body this afternoon, but I was so preoccupied with Zoe’s flying, making sure she didn’t fall off and hurt herself, that I ended up just putting a stasis charm over the two cauldrons. I won’t be able to sleep until I make some kind of progress, so I make my way back to my brewing room. 

As I am walking down the stairs, a small tug in my gut alerts me to someone outside the front gates, someone without access to the manor’s wards. My wand is out and ready before I can even blink and I tap my signet ring once, activating the wards I added to Zoe’s room. I apparate to the front gate, keeping to the shadows to gain an edge on the opponent so close to my most precious treasure. I creep up to the ornate metal gate, separating us from the rest of the world, and see his messy black hair first. “Potter?” My shock at his appearance is not concealed at all, not after such a long day.

“Malfoy, are you going to let me in or will I have to stand out here all night?” 

My eyes scan him, finding a man who looks close to breaking, so different from the man that spoke to me after every uncovered threat was sent to his office. That man was the picture-perfect Auror, robes draped over a hard-toned body, eyes filled with a strength and fire that chilled any want-to-be criminal. That man exuded power like a second skin. Not the man in front of me. This man’s clothes were slightly crooked as if he had been fidgeting with each piece in an effort to abate his nerves. His hair, normally styled in a manner that looks like he just rolled out of bed now looks like he has been electrocuted. But the feature that makes me open the gates is his eyes. The fire that normally resides there is barely an ember, and it chills me to the core.

The gate swings open and Harry passes through the wards, another tingle going up my spine as he does. I subtly tap my ring once more, dropping the wards in case she wakes up and tries to leave her room. I couldn’t live with myself if I scared her needlessly. At the snap of my fingers, the gate swings shut once more and I turn on my heel to walk back to the manor, Potter hot on my heels. 

“Alright Potter, what is this? You are aware that it is the middle of the night and I don’t appreciate unscheduled intrusions at my home, aren’t you?” I can’t help the edge that exists in my tone. I’m exhausted and my nerves are shot from the events of the day, the interruption doing nothing to relieve the tension coiled in my stomach. Not to mention Potter’s disheveled appearance, which has me glancing behind my shoulder to ensure that nothing nasty popped out of the land outside my property. It has been years since we were at each other's throats like mortal enemies, and over the years we had managed to stay mostly polite. However, in moments like this, it wasn’t hard to fall into old patterns of hiding behind the mask that Lucius had instilled in me for so many years. 

“Not outside. You got any firewhisky?” His curt response is unsettling at best, but, as we reach the manor doors, I cross through and start the walk to the kitchen. I don’t look behind me to make sure that Potter is still following. Frankly, I would be much happier if he just turned around and left, though that seems unlikely. Despite the many character flaws that I might find in Potter when he set his mind to something, nothing could derail him from completing that task. 

I strolled through the large entryway into the open kitchen and gestured to the table for Potter to sit. “Effie. Would you grab a bottle of firewhiskey from the cellar? Try the 5-year bottle.” I strode to the cabinets, grabbing two tumblers from the high shelf, strategically placed so that Zoe wouldn’t try to drink out of them.

“Of course Master.” She shifted her eyes to Potter, her cautiousness obvious on her face. I didn’t let anyone in the manor, anyone except family that is. She knew as well as I, that my enemies were on both sides of the war and that I would never risk Zoe’s safety. Despite her evident concerns, she popped away and back within a matter of seconds, bringing a dusty bottle with her. 

“Thank you, Effie. Would you make sure that she is still asleep? I might have disturbed her a few moments ago and I don’t want her to be nervous if she is awake.” Her eyes shift back to Potter before she nods, flaps her ears once, and disapparates up to Zoe’s bedroom. Hopefully, Zoe was so tired from today that she slept straight through her wards changing. I pour myself two fingers from the bottle and push the bottle towards Potter.

“You thank your house-elves?” Potter’s question grabs my attention, turning it back to the matter at hand and away from my daughter.

“Well, Potter, contrary to popular opinion, I do have basic manners which would dictate that it is polite to thank someone who does you a service. I would be a bit remiss if I didn’t thank Effie for spending some of her usual time off to attend to me. Especially when such an event was unplanned.” Condescension drips off of every word, but I don’t care. He already views me as a villain, but that doesn’t give him the right to insult me in my own home.

“That’s not what I meant. I guess I just assumed that house-elves weren’t important to you. I’m sorry, Malfoy.” His tone is so different from that with which I used to spar with, it causes me to shudder. 

“Just get on with it Potter. I do need my beauty rest and this meeting is cutting into my valuable time. Why are you here, in the middle of the night no less? Is the Weasel not available?”

“Well, Ron doesn’t know I am here, but he does know about what I needed to talk to you about. What do you make of this?” He pulls a picture out of the front pocket of his robes. For once, I’m grateful for the stillness of the muggle photograph. Instantly, I slam my walls up, blocking out the horror building in the back of my mind at the image. I had seen victims like this before, back during the war, when I was

It didn’t matter. I was out now. I was a different man, a free man. I let loose a shuddering breath, steeled my mind, and reinforced my walls before looking back at the image. The muggle man hadn’t stood a chance. It looked as if someone had taken a peeler to his skin, in a similar fashion to the way that one would peel a potato. Large strips of muscle, fat, and bone were exposed along the entirety of the body. That sight alone would be sickening, but the detail that catches my attention is the sheer volume of blood on the ground around the destroyed body. It looks as if the man was completely drained of the precious red liquid, which could mean only one thing: the man was alive when he was skinned. Bile rises in the back of my throat and I swallow, yanking my eyes away from the picture and turning back to Potter. His face is grim, lips pulled in a taut line as he glances at the photo. That’s not reassuring. I take the glass in my hand and tip the liquid back into my throat in one gulp. It burns as it travels down my throat, but it helps to dull a portion of the terror coating my nerves. When I look back up, Potter’s eyes are fixed on me, taking in my every reaction and cataloging it. A weight drops in my stomach as I ponder the true reason that he came to my door tonight. 

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t see a single recognizable feature on that man left, but I can say with certainty that I have never seen him before in my life. Regardless, I would never do something like this, so if you want to arrest me, you’ll need to come back with much more evidence than a mere picture. Get the fuck out of my house.” Anger clouds my vision. He would not bring me in for this. I would NOT leave Zoe, not for something so heinous. This crime was committed by someone who wanted to watch their victims suffer, who enjoyed the pain that they caused, someone who relished in it. I could name at least three such individuals who had yet to be apprehended by the Aurors, but my stomach turned at the mere thought of such a crime. He couldn’t honestly think that I was capable of such a thing, and even so, I would fight tooth and nail to make sure that Zoe never had to grow up in a world without her father.

“Malfoy, I didn’t come to accuse you. I know you didn’t do this. You may have been cruel in school, but you would never hurt someone like this. I know that you are the one who sends those anti-curse potions to St. Mungos, so don’t pretend like I think you are capable of committing this crime. Even if I did, do you honestly think that I would come to arrest you by myself in the middle of the night? If I thought you did this, you would already be in cuffs.”

“If you didn’t come to accuse me, then why are you showing me a photo that likely was never supposed to leave a Ministry case file at 2 in the morning?”

He takes a large breath in and the words that come out of his mouth next stop me dead in my tracks, “Because I need your help.”

“What?” All trace of my haughty “Lucius” voice is gone now. The question comes out like a choked whisper and I cringe at how timid the word sounds.

“I need your help Malfoy. I know that you just want to keep your head down and believe me when I say that I wouldn’t be here if I had any other options. This is the fourth victim with this level of damage. We are pretty sure that it is a Death Eater, or a group of them, but we haven’t been able to track them or even figure out which one cast the curse.”

“Potter, I told you that I am not involved. Any Death Eaters left want me dead. I don’t have any idea where they are.” My breathing is coming in shallower now. Even the heavy occlusion currently dominating my brain isn’t enough to keep a shred of fear from breaking through the wall as I think about the sleeping toddler only a floor away.

“I know that you aren’t with them. You wouldn’t do that to her. But you lived with them, trained with them, worked with them. You know how they think and how they will attack us when we do catch up with them.”

I don’t even have to speak, don’t have to ask who the “her” he spoke of was. My face says everything I need to. I cock an eyebrow, disbelief clouding my features at the suggestion. Once, a lifetime ago, I dreamed of being an Auror, of having a career that I could be proud of. That would never happen now, not when I was still labeled as a Death Eater by the Ministry itself.

Potter sighs, the sound heavier than I had ever heard from the man. It was the sigh of someone beaten. “Look, I’m not even going to try to play the Chosen One card on you because Merlin knows you don’t give a shit. All I will say is that if you don’t do it for me, because I am asking, no begging you to, then do it for her.” He jerked a chin toward the stairway just visible beyond the confines of the kitchen. Though most of the wizarding world remained ignorant of Zoe’s existence, Potter was given that privilege when he came to investigate the very first death threat that was found by the Ministry during a routine search of my mail. At this moment, I hated his inside knowledge because damn him if he didn’t know exactly what to say to make me consider the offer. I thought about Zoe. Her serene smile as I laid her down for bed. The love and adoration in her eyes as she held her baby cousins. The pride she couldn’t possibly contain when she accomplished even the smallest task by herself. I thought about how completely unburdened she looked today and every day before that. I thought about how much sleep I already lost, thinking about the experiences she would never have simply because of the name that she bore and the countless hours I would now lose worrying about this concrete threat moving closer and closer to our home, to her. 

“This has to be a one-time thing, Potter. I won’t leave her without a father. You need to know that going into this mess. I will do whatever it takes to get back to her, whether it is protocol or not.” My head feels like it’s splitting open from the intensity of the occlusion, but I hold it firmly in place so I look unruffled, even though Potter knows exactly why I am accepting his offer. 

He doesn’t seem to care that his every emotion is written on his face as he breathes a sigh of relief, downing the previously untouched glass of firewhiskey in one quick draw. “Be at the Ministry at 8 tomorrow morning. I will meet you at the guest entrance.”

“The guest entrance? You do realize that every so-called journalist in all of Britain will scramble for a picture of the two of us, right?” The thought sets a wave of disgust off in my brain. The loathsome toads at the Daily Prophet had been running pieces about me for the last five years. Some were fear-mongering, calling me a calloused murderer. Others were simply nonsensical, naming me the most eligible bachelor in the whole country. It was laughable just how far they were willing to go for the slightest edge on a story. And this would be one hell of a story.

“I’ll handle it. Just be there.” Potter stood up and I led him to the floo parlor. We walked in total silence, neither of us entirely sure how to talk to one another without devolving into petty arguments, and that was the last thing we needed to stop whatever was happening. 

When we finally reached the floo, I turned on my heel almost immediately, not wanting to prolong his exit if at all possible. As I stepped through the threshold, I heard Potter’s voice call out, “Oi, Malfoy. I’ll make sure you get home. No matter what. And thank you.” A whoosh of green flames, and he was gone. 

The enormity of my promise hit me all at once and I could only pray that Blaise was still up as I stepped back into the floo parlor. “Effie, I am going to the Zabini Estate. I will be back in a few minutes. Watch over Zoe until I get back.” I don’t wait for a response before grabbing a handful of powder and throwing it into the flames, shouting “Zabini Estate!”

I step out of the fireplace, wiping invisible dust particles off of my clothing out of pure habit, and look around. If Blaise was awake, he wouldn’t be waiting in the floo parlor, but I didn’t want to wake Pansy. She was a Kraken when she was well-rested. Woken in the middle of the night, I was likely to return home without a limb. I took a left in the hallway outside of the parlor and strode towards the cigar lounge, Blaise’s favorite hideaway when he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. With each step, I rolled the conversation with Potter around in my head, thinking about everything that I could’ve done or said differently. Maybe then I wouldn’t be as petrified. But I also wouldn’t be helping. I would be living up to the rumors circulated about me, that I cared about no one and nothing. That I may not have shot the killing curse at anyone, but I certainly didn’t care that people had been on the receiving end of such a brutal spell. 

Before I knew it, I was at the door to the lounge. It was already flung open, Blaise stretched out on the leather sofa with his head turned away from the door. “You gonna come in or just loiter in the hall until I hex your balls off for intruding this late?” His voice was gruff from lack of sleep. Though my daughter adored him as her “first best friend,” Luca Zabini was a terrible sleeper. Not to mention the fact that Luca had clearly inherited his mother’s lung capacity, which resulted in his cries being at such a high volume that they put a Sonorus charm to shame. It wouldn’t surprise me if he hadn’t slept more than 4 hours consecutively in the last few months. As I stepped around the couch, I finally noticed the little boy, draped haphazardly across Blaise’s naked chest.

“Looks like you make a good pillow. How come you never let me try that?” He quirks an eyebrow up at that and frowns like he knows that I am simply trying to deflect my own dark thoughts in the form of comedy. I guess that approach really only works for Theo. “Zoe missed you guys tonight. Athena is positively beautiful, but she has her father’s hair, and Merlin help her. Zoe is already pushing dragons on her, so it looks like she will join the illustrious club containing your son and my daughter as its founding members.”

“Drake, as much as I love our midnight chats, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you going to make me pry. In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly get up and intimidate you or drink firewhiskey, so I am all out of my normal tricks. You’re gonna have to cut to the chase cause I just got him to sleep and I can’t sleep on this couch again tonight. My back will be out of line for months as it is.” 

Straight to the point. Well, I guess I deserved that for bursting over here at 3 in the morning. In fact, this was a pleasant greeting in comparison to the ones I gave him when I had a newborn and operated on about 10 seconds of sleep every month. I took a deep breath in and started telling him about Potter’s visit and proposition. The words spilled from my mouth so fast, like I was trying to purge them from my system. 

After nearly 10 minutes of me venting all of my thoughts, nerves, emotions, and just general confusion over the day’s events, I finally stopped, gulping air like I’d been starved of it. Blaise shifted slightly, eyes glued on the head of jet black hair under his chin, trying to sit up as much as possible. He didn’t get very far before a whimper filled the air and Blaise’s movement ceased. He sighed, resigned to his fate, and looked back at me.

“Well mate, I don’t have to tell you that we are fucked if those bastards decide to start terrorizing Britain again. But Potter isn’t wrong. You know them better than anyone outside of the ones up in Azkaban, but most of them are probably crazy by now. I don’t like it any more than you do, but if Potter came to you, they must be desperate.”

“I want to leave it alone. I should leave it alone. It’s not my job, I didn’t do anything, and I certainly don’t have any connection to them anymore. But all I could think about was Zoe. I can’t let her grow up in a world where she is hunted. She is going to learn to hate the manor if I keep her cooped up forever. I know that, and yet I can’t even begin to think about letting her leave our little bubble until those bastards are gone.”

“So do something about it! If you want to give her that chance, then catch those sons of bitches.”

“And if I get killed in the process? You know the statistics as well as I do. Aurors don’t all make it home. In fact, most of them don’t make it home. I can’t leave her alone.”

Blaise scoffed, “First of all, you wouldn’t be leaving her alone. You are lucky that Pans isn’t awake cause she would skin you for that suggestion. Theo might too, now that I am thinking about it. More importantly, you wouldn’t do that to her. I know you, Drake. You would burn the world if that were what it took to come home to her. Second of all, you’d still be a civilian. It’s not like they will be shipping you off to the front lines. This isn’t the war anymore.”

My head droops and my voice drops to a whisper, so quiet it’s almost inaudible, “I don’t want to leave her, even if it’s just for the day.” My true fear goes unspoken. I don’t want to leave and earn her resentment that I have blissfully escaped thus far. I don’t want to leave and give her the space to learn what a monster I truly am. I don’t want to leave and let her forget about me.

“Drake, you are her sun, moon, and stars. That girl’s world starts and ends with you. She will be so proud of her dad for catching the bad guys that hurt people. She already talks about it when you work on those anti-curse potions. Why don’t you bring her over here before you go to the Ministry tomorrow? She can spend the day with us, play with Luca, and when you come back at the end of the day, pieces of shit safely incarcerated, then I can give you a big I-told-you-so and you can go home with our girl. Fair?”

I let loose a shaky breath, pushing the worries from my mind, going through my day tomorrow so I can organize my hazy thoughts. I don’t miss the certainty in his statement. “I will bring her around 7:50. I’ll try to make sure she is calm, but no promises. She has been so energetic lately, it seems like she never stops, but if you hold onto her hand, she won’t run on you.” The thanks may not have been said out loud, but it is reflected in every fiber of my being and in my every expression as I stand up from the armchair I had sat in at the beginning of my story. Heading for the floo, I run through everything I might need for tomorrow and resolve to get a few hours of sleep before I jump into the unknown.

I floo directly back to my bedroom, barely making it the few paces from the fireplace to the bed before making a snap decision. I turn, leaving my room, and go two doors down, to the room containing my everything. I open the door quietly, careful to ensure that I don’t wake Zoe up with a stray noise. As I approach her bed, I take in her sprawled form, chuckling at the sheer amount of space that someone so small can take up. I snake one arm under her neck and another cups her legs as I cradle her small frame against my chest. Carefully, I walk back to my bedroom, the tattoo in her honor on my right arm sparkling as a patch of moonlight creeps in from the windows. I wandlessly vanish all but my boxers, climb into bed and situate her against my chest. I press my lips to her forehead and before I know it, the soft sound of her breathing lulls me into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Draco

May 31, 2004

I wake up to a small foot jammed so far into my ribs, that it might as well have been protruding out of my back. Despite the discomfort, I smile down at my little girl, taking up more room than she has any right to. For a few blissful seconds, I simply stay laying there, content, before my mind truly has a chance to wake up. Then, like a damn breaking, every worry that I had been able to banish in sleep comes slamming back to the forefront of my mind, occupying every ounce of my thinking. I steal another glance down at my daughter, then I begin the treacherous process of attempting to disentangle her body from mine. I keep my movements small and slow, knowing that at a single, detectable shift, Zoe will be up and ready to go and I need to sort through my thoughts before she wakes. I can’t let her see me worry, and she’s too perceptive to not pick up on my non-verbal cues right now.

Thankfully, I manage to escape the sheets without disturbing her. I cast a quick Tempus charm to ensure that I have plenty of time before I need to wake her as well. It’s 6:00 AM, plenty of time to ensure that she is up, dressed, and fed before I leave her with Blaise and Pansy. In the grand scheme of things, I should be far more concerned about the fact that I will be tracking down cold-blooded murderers in a matter of hours, but my priorities have always been skewed. Instead, my nerves are a result of the mere thought of leaving Zoe alone for more than a span of a few hours. She won’t be alone, not really, and I trust the Zabini’s more than almost anyone. She will be safe and she will probably think that it is a reward, but my stomach turns at the imagined image of her disappointed face when she realizes that we won’t have lunch together or that she can’t show me her flying skills this afternoon. 

Searching for a distraction, I turn to my closet. This will be my first public appearance in more than a year. The last one ended in a camera being shattered and a large sum of galleons deposited into the Daily Prophet accounts to keep the story from running on the front page. Despite Potter’s assurances that he will “take care” of the press, I wouldn’t put it past Skeeter to have some elaborate setup surrounding the Ministry that will catch me regardless of Potter’s ability to control the monkeys inside the building. His “Boy-Who-Lived” influence can only reach so far and Skeeter always finds a way to get her story.

I reach for a suit that I haven’t worn in months. It is tailored to my exact measurements, custom-made, like all of my clothing. It is a dark grey, as close to black as it can be without truly being black. The design itself is a style that Lucius preferred when he had important business, designed to intimidate, posture, and impress. As much as I despise him, too many of his lessons run deep into the fabric of who I am and I can’t deny that his taste in clothing was usually correct. I pair the suit with a crisp white dress shirt and a plain black tie, keeping color out of my wardrobe to play the part of the uncaring recluse who is only at the Ministry as a favor to the Savior of the Wizarding World. My shoes are freshly polished and I reach for my outer robes, throwing them over the armchair in the corner before going back to the bed to wake up the sleeping girl who is now spread out over the entire building.

I left a note in Zoe’s room for Effie last night, letting her know that Zoe would be in my room and that we would not require assistance until breakfast. I did not want a repeat performance of yesterday morning. That was a disaster and I can’t add one more worry to the mountain forming in my mind already. No, I needed to be completely focused on the task at hand, something that would likely prove to be impossible when my thoughts constantly revolved around Zoe. 

I rub slow circles into her shoulder, a gesture that she has found comforting since the day she was born, and her bright eyes open slowly, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. It only takes a few seconds for her brain to start working and in no time at all, she is sitting up, clutching Bruce to her chest, and trying to scramble off of the bed. “Where is Effie? Did I forget to tell her that I was not in my bed? We should find her cause she is probably worried. Oh, can we go back and play with Thea today. She is missing me and Bruce wants to make sure that she picks a good name for his sister. You look fancy today. Are we going to a party? It’s not Luca’s birthday today.”

The questions come at such a rapid pace that I struggle to keep all of them straight, but such is my life. Her light blonde hair is sticking out at odd angles all around her head and, despite the lead in my stomach, I smile at her utter innocence. “Morning my light. Effie is downstairs getting breakfast ready for us. She knows exactly where you are. You and I are going to go and pick out an outfit for you to wear today and I will tell you all about the plans for today when we go down for breakfast. Is that alright sweetheart?”

She tilts her head and her shrewd gaze studies my face. Since she was born, Pansy has helped her understand lots of subtle details in conversation. Being constantly surrounded by snakes who were born and raised on subterfuge and subtext in conversations, it’s a vital skill for her to have. I usually don’t mind how aware she is but at this moment, I can’t tell if she notices my nerves or simply senses that something about today is different. She stares at me for a second and then bounds over to me, encasing my leg in her small arms. “We need to hurry Dad. If Effie is making breakfast, then we should get dressed fast for her. Can you braid my hair?” She lets go of my leg and turns to go to her own room through the hallway. Her questions continue, even as she walks away from me and I don’t even bother to try answering them all, knowing that she will continue speaking regardless.

She picks out a blue and white sundress, designed by Pansy herself like most of the items in this closet, and a pair of white sandals with unicorns on the tops, chatting the entire time. As soon as she is dressed, she sits in the small chair situated by her vanity and I position myself behind her, gently grasping three strands of her hair to begin the elaborate twisting that will tame her long, straight locks. When her hair first started to grow out, I knew that I wanted to be able to help her with the little things for as long as possible, so I cornered Pansy one night and forced her to help me learn how to style it. We sat for hours while she guided me through several different styles of braids and ponytails. I refuse to rely on Effie or Pansy to take care of Zoe, even if it is for something as simple as doing her hair every once in a while. Now, it has simply become yet another thing that we do together while we get ready in the morning, like a ritual that neither of us ever intended to create, but one that we cling to and one that I hope she never grows out of.

As soon as the braid is complete, I press a soft kiss to the top of her head and she jumps down from the chair, grasping my hand in hers and pulling me out of the room with Bruce in her other hand. We reach the stairs and I lift her up to the banister that twists all the way to the bottom of the grand staircase. I used to dream of sliding down the banister when I was a young boy, but Mother refused to allow me to participate in such an “uncouth activity.” She always claimed that I would break something, or embarrass the family if we ever had a guest see me. I wouldn’t deny Zoe that experience or the freedom of simply being a child. Well, that, and I am in awe of the look of sheer joy that spreads across her face as she slides down. I race with her, running just fast enough to stay a pace behind her as she slides. She shoots off the banister and into my waiting arms, giggling while I tickle her. I don’t even break stride as I start walking in the direction of the kitchen.

The smells assault me first as I walk into the kitchen, unsure of what to expect. I should have known that Effie would be anxious after the events of last night. The counter and table are filled with decadent dishes, more food than Zoe and I could consume in a month. All of Zoe’s favorites are arranged in the center of the table, and the poor elf is still standing over a pan-frying what looks like eggs, muttering to herself. Her ears are flapping anxiously and she seems to be shaking. Zoe wiggles out of my arms to sit in her raised chair at the table and immediately starts piling food onto the plate, either unaware of or uncaring about the vast difference in breakfast this morning. I put my hand on Effie’s shoulder, peering down at her trembling form. “Master Draco will be safe today. Effie will be very angry with Master Draco if he gets hurt.” Tears well in the corner of her eyes, and her ears keep drooping with every word.

Before I can respond, Zoe’s voice, laced with concern, floats through the air. “Effie, why are you sad? You made super yummy eggs this morning. Can I give you a hug and make you feel better? Dad promises to be very good, even though he made you sad.”

Effie can no longer hold back her sobs as she gets down from her perch near the counter and runs over to Zoe, throwing her hands around my daughter’s neck and squeezing tightly. Mother would be mortified if she could see our deportment now, but all I can see is the love that my elf clearly has for my daughter and that is better than any shit pureblood ideal I know of. “Effie, I promise to be safe. I will clean up the breakfast dishes when we are done. Why don’t you take the day off and I will find you when I come home tonight?”

She wipes her tears off on the sleeve of her puffy, pink dress, nodding at me. She waves one of her gnarled hands at me, her eyes still watery and her gaze grave, and then disapparates. Zoe squishes her eyebrows together, confused at my statement. “Are we going somewhere today Dad? Effie can come with us to see baby Thea so she isn’t alone. Plus, you said “I” Dad and that is silly cause we go everywhere together.” 

She doesn’t mean to hurt me, but her words highlight every fear that has been running through my mind since last night. I slam my occlumency shields up, trying to lock my emotions away so she doesn’t recognize the pain in my voice. I will not let her feel guilty about the way that I feel, especially when she can’t help but ask perfectly logical questions. Questions that I don’t have a good answer to. I take a deep breath, fortifying myself for the conversation I have been dreading. “Zoe, my light, you know that I love you, more than anything right?”

“Yep! I am your favorite girl because you play with me and teach me things and help watch Bruce.” Her smile is so pure, untouched. So utterly unbothered.

“Well today, I have to go and help someone I knew a long time ago. Someone from school.” How do I even begin to describe Potter to her? That is a bridge that I will have to cross sooner than I want to.

“I get to meet a new friend! Are they snakes like Aunt Pans, Uncle Z, and Uncle Theo, or a bird like Aunt Lu? I think birds are really pretty, but snakes are my favorite cause they are in lots of pretty colors.”

“Actually, he isn’t a snake or a bird. He’s a lion. And, as much as I wish that I could bring you with me today, I have to go and meet the lion by myself today. You get to go over to Aunt Pansy and Uncle Blaise’s house to play with Luca today. Is that alright?” My heart stops and my head gets fuzzy as I wait for her answer. Though she is unaware of it, her next words will determine exactly how the rest of this day will go.

She tilts her head as if she is analyzing my statement, running through each word with a fine-tooth comb. Sometimes, she is too perceptive for her own good. An eternity passes before she looks at me dead in my eyes again and the air is stolen from my chest. “Aunt Pans and Uncle Z are probably going to worry about you if you are all alone, so I will go and make sure that they are okay, but don’t tell them. Plus, Luc needs a play buddy and I will tell him all about our new friend, Thea. Bruce and Oscar need to talk about their sister anyways. But Dad, do you promise that I can meet the lion someday? I have never met a lion and they are cool, like dragons. Aunt Lu says so.”

I release my breath, an unbearable weight vanishing from my shoulders. I can already hear the smug tone in Blaise’s voice as he gives me his best “I-told-you-so” later tonight. She will be okay. Of course, she’ll be okay. She’s my daughter, the heir of Malfoy and she can handle anything. “I promise that I will let you meet the lion someday. Right now, we need to finish our breakfast quickly so we can floo over to Uncle Blaise’s before I have to leave.”

She smiles back up at me, completely unbothered by the conversation that we had just had. Then again, she is likely more excited that she’ll get to spend so much time with Luca and won’t even think about me until later. That will be the true test when I get home. But I am going to use this morning to keep my worries at bay.

We finish breakfast and I vanish most of the mess. We can always get more food later and I am perilously close to running late, so I don’t have time to put stasis charms on all of it. I pick Zoe up in my arms and lift her so that she is sitting on my shoulders, her hands curling into my hair. So much for looking like the unruffled, stuck-up Lord of the House of Malfoy. Oh well. We sing her favorite song, Old Scamander, as we walk toward the floo parlor

Old Scamander had a zoo, toodly doo.

In that zoo, he had a unicorn.

The horn shone for all to see.

But only the fair got to touch.

Old Scamander had a zoo, toodly doo.

In that zoo, he had a dragon.

They flew and flew and fire did they spew.

But the pure were never harmed.

She was still singing as I stepped through the flames, coming face to face with Pansy, a look of a pure rage holding her features hostage. “Alright my light, ready to jump down. One. Two. Three. Whoosh.” Her screech is so adorable that there is a tangible pull on my heartstrings.

“Hi, Aunt Pans. Dad has to meet with a lion today, so I am gonna help Luc. And Bruce needs to have a meeting with Oscar. Can I go find them? Also, don’t be angry at Dad. Lions aren’t as big as dragons, so he probably just needs Dad to do something big.” Too fucking observant. Why did she have to be so observant? 

Pansy, visibly taken aback for a few seconds, quickly schools her features and bends over so she is eye-level with Zoe. “I would love your help with the boys today. And we will work on your next gown for your Dad’s birthday. Uncle Blaise is with Luca in the playroom. Go ahead. I will meet you there in a few minutes, okay? I just have to talk to your Dad really quickly.” Zoe nods vigorously and Pansy bops her nose, smiling softly at the little girl. Zoe rushes towards me, enveloping me in a hard hug. I tug her small frame towards me and hold her tight, just a second longer than normal, breathing in her scent. Then I release her and she skips off to the playroom, Bruce in tow. I turn back to Pansy and, unsurprisingly, the fury is back in her features.

“You absolute, utter, fucking idiot Draco Lucius Malfoy! I cannot believe that you would floo to my house, in the middle of the night, to tell my husband that you don’t believe that precious angel could still love you. I have sat by you as you moped for years. Maybe it’s my fault for allowing you to pull away when you feel vulnerable, but I am not doing it anymore. You just hugged her like you are never coming home. I won’t do it you pompous ass.”

“Pans, I . . . “

“I am NOT done Draco. She believes that you are the greatest wizard in the world. She adores you and if you think, for one solitary minute, that we would let her hold some sort of grudge against you for leaving her with us for the day, then you are sorely mistaken.”

“I understand, but . . . “

“And we would NEVER let her be alone. NEVER. Not in a million years. She will always have family and for you to even suggest that she is not ours. Not our girl. I mean it’s just. It is ridiculous! I cannot believe you. What do you have to say for yourself? Well, what do you have to say?” Her barefoot taps impatiently against the marble floor of the parlor.

“I was going to say that you are right and that I was far too strung out last night to have been logical. And that I trust you, Blaise, Theo, and even Luna, Merlin help me, implicitly. Are you done with your tongue-lashing because I am going to be late as it is now?” Pansy has one eyebrow raised and it takes more effort than I care to admit to keeping from casting a Tempus charm to ensure that I really won’t be late.

“Drake, we love you. She loves you. I will see you tonight and you can take my goddaughter away from me once again when she tells you that you are still her favorite at the end of the day. Oh, and give Potter my best.” Gently, she pulls me into a hug, her head resting on my chest for a brief moment before she moves away and practically shoves me toward the floo. I suppose for anyone else, the sheer whiplash of the conversation would leave them reeling, but I am just reminded of how lucky I am to have her in my life. 

I step into the fireplace and steal one last glance at Pansy’s retreating figure and hear the melodious sound of my daughter’s laugh floating through the manor. Gripping the powder tightly, I call out “Ministry for Magic” and green flames engulf me before I appear in the belly of the beast.

As the flames die out, I plaster my “Lucius” face firmly onto my face. My features are schooled in a manner that screams class and dignity. It is an expression carefully practiced and one that seems so ingrained in me from years of training to look nonchalant in any circumstance that I barely have to put any effort into it. It is the face I don everytime I go into the public, especially in places so public like the Ministry. I step out of the grate, expecting to see reporters crowding the floo to catch a glimpse of every visitor coming in at such an early hour. Instead, I am simply greeted by Potter’s impish grin as he takes me in. The haunted look in his eyes hovers just behind a mask of his own, one that is the polar opposite of my own. “Not gonna lie, Malfoy. I wasn’t sure if you would show up.”

I roll my eyes. “I did give you my word that I would help. That still means something to me, Potter. I am surprised you managed to keep Skeeter from documenting this interaction. We are making history and it would certainly make for a good headline. The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice Manipulated by Master Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. Has a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

“Well, I am glad to see that the years haven’t been able to rid you of that sharp wit. Come on, we are set up in the conference room.” Potter turns on his heels and starts striding toward the wretched elevators.

I haven’t set foot in the Ministry since my trial ended, though not much has changed. The floor is still a painfully polished, black marble that reflects every person who crosses it. The walls are similarly black, making the entire space feel far more small than it truly is. The crowning piece and the area of the main atrium that draws the most attention is still the disgustingly ostentatious fountain. There was a commission to rebuild the destroyed fountain a few years ago, hoping to showcase the values that the Ministry now supported. Many advocated for the statue to be a collaborative effort with other species, but the design that ultimately won was a statue of the Wonder Trio charging Voldemort head-on. No one seemed to care that the war ended in a much different fashion, especially when the statue was touted as a symbol of the heroism that kept our “great society” progressing. I just think that it is a massive waste of money, which is saying something since I own three albino peacocks that were specially bred for aesthetic purposes alone. If Potter notices my disgusted glances at the statue, he says nothing and continues to lead me through the throng of people wandering about the Ministry. There are several glances thrown my way and I can’t help but hear the whispers as I pass the crowds. 

“Is that Malfoy?”

“What is he doing here?”

“He killed hundreds of people and managed to escape Azkaban.”

“I hear that he is going to start accepting betrothal contract negotiations soon and I know that my name is on the list.”

The utter stupidity of people comes into sharp clarity once again as the rumors circulate as to the reason I am being led through the Ministry by Harry Potter of all people. I would never admit it to him, but I am grateful when we get locked into the death traps that the Ministry calls elevators. The whispers cease and my head pounds from the depth of the occlumency that I have already begun to employ. This is going to be a very long day. Potter’s eyes are firmly settled on some fixed point ahead of us. He doesn’t say anything and simply allows us to exist in the silence until the elevator stops its descent and the cage swings open. We step out into a bright space, crammed full of cubicles with witches and wizards in various garbs milling about. The space is the total opposite of the atrium above, highlighted by bright walls and shockingly white marble floors. A flicker of movement catches my attention and I instantly regret turning my head toward the stimulus. On the far left wall of the floor, in large, angry, red letters, is a sign that reads Dark Wizards At Large. Below the words are several pictures, mug shots or ID pictures flashed next to a description of each witch or wizard’s crimes, while the name sits below in dark letters. Some pictures have ugly, red Xs over the picture, but I don’t see many of the others on the wall. Instead, my attention is laser-focused on one in particular: me. A large X covers much of my face, though the note at the bottom is what holds my focus. Ex-Death Eater. Not Imprisoned. Be Aware.  

A hand grasps my right shoulder and I whip my head around to the source. Potter looks shaken as if he had forgotten that my picture was still on that wall. His gaze holds so much pity that it turns my stomach. I shrug his hand off, not politely, and gruffly bite out, “Where exactly is this meeting supposed to be taking place? I’d rather avoid the plebeians if at all possible. I don’t want to get this suit dirty.”

My sneer is convincing, but not enough to break Potter’s infuriating gaze. He holds my stare with that pitiful glance for a second longer before he steps back and jerks his head toward a pair of blue double doors across the room from where we are standing. We move towards the room before I have the good sense to ask, “Who is going to be in this meeting? I can’t imagine many Aurors were lining up for the opportunity to work with the reformed Death Eater at large.”

“There is just a small group of us on the case. Actually, just three of us now. It is compartmentalized until we have more information.”

“That isn’t an answer to my question, Potter.”

He shakes his head. “You might just want to go into the room and see for yourself.”

Well, no time like the present. I push open one of the doors and stride into the room, attempting to exude a level of confidence that I haven’t felt in years. I expected to be working with Potter and Potter alone, but instead, I walk into the room and my heart leaps into my throat at the same time that the breath is knocked out of my lungs. 

My mind flashes back to the memory of a drawing-room that has been locked away since the end of the war. All I can hear are screams bouncing around in my head, paired with a harmony of demonic laughter. I can feel my head getting dizzy, a wave of panic threatening to drown me at the mere sight of her. I hold my breath, counting to ten in my head, trying to conjure images of my daughter to calm my already fried nerves before I take another step into the room.

Her normally bushy hair is pulled back into a thick ponytail on the back of her head. She is wearing an outfit straight out of Pansy’s shop: a smart blue pencil skirt that hugs all of her curves and falls at her knees and the white blouse that she paired it with maintains the air of professionalism that I expected from her, buttoned-all the way. She is still just as gorgeous as she always was in school, though I don’t think she knows it. I glance over her form once, only allowing myself that one small look before I turn back to Potter who has closed the door behind us. He just shrugs his shoulders and I direct my questions back to Hermione Granger, the Golden Girl.

“I wasn’t aware that the Golden Trio stayed together in the Auror department? Weren’t you in the House Elf Division of the DRMC? Spew, right?” A tattered blue pin flashes through my mind, hidden in a box under my bed.

She looks up from the paper that her nose had been buried in and takes me in. I haven’t seen her in person since my trial when she spoke on my behalf as a character witness. Though I had sent her several letters of thanks, I never received a reply, so I stopped reaching out. Never let it be said that I couldn’t take a hint from a woman, especially after I saw the pictures of her wedding in the Prophet. Her gaze scans every inch of me, stopping a few times as if she liked what she saw. I am not naive enough to think that she would ever leave her husband for me, but I certainly wouldn’t stop her from looking at what she was missing. I fight to maintain my composed attitude and not preen under the attention.

Her voice has the same swotty tone that she always used when answering our Professors in school. “I am not an Auror, Malfoy. I am the head of the DMLE. I made the switch a few weeks ago if you read the Prophet. This case just happens to be high-profile enough that I am assisting in the investigation.”

My skin feels like it is crawling just from her presence. I had forgotten how she made me feel, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice the sheen of sweat that is likely breaking out across my skin. I place my hands in my pockets, projecting the attitude of someone who is utterly unbothered with the situation, and sit down in the seat closest to the doorway, leaning back in my chair. “Ahh, I see. So what do I call you? Head Granger, or is it Weasley now?”

I know that I am just antagonizing her, and I can see Potter shaking his head at my antics in my peripheral vision, but I just can’t stop myself. She is so beautiful when she is riled up. Despite my taunt, she mirrors my own projected air and simply says, “You know damn well what my name is, Malfoy. Ignorance is not a good look for you. If you have any more taunts that you’d like to sling my way, I’ll ask that you save them until after we have made some headway.”

And just like that, my thoughts are directed back to the real reason that I am sitting in her presence for the first time in five years. I grab the file in front of me and scan the information on the pages. Four muggles in different areas of Britain, all victims of a powerful curse that looks like it flays them alive. No discernable magic to trace, and no witnesses. The biggest difference is in the latest victim. The Dark Mark was found on a piece of paper lying next to the victim with the words, You Can’t Stop Us, written underneath. My blood chills as I flip through the images. It takes a few minutes to get through the entire packet, but when I finish, both Potter and Granger (who had kept her last name, quite publicly) were staring at me as if they expected me to have some sort of wild revelation at this information. 

“Staring at me won’t allow information I don’t have to simply pop into existence.”

“You have to know something. Have you ever seen anyone use this curse before?” Potter starts to say.

A phantom pain slices along my back as my body remembers the agony of the curses it was exposed to. I was a favorite test subject for many of them. A powerful training aid, they used to say. I should feel honored that they deemed me worthy to even stand in their presence, much less feel their magic. A shudder wracks my body so I add a few more bricks to my occlumency walls and imagine Bruce standing guard at the top of the wall. “Potter, trust me when I say that this curse would stick out in my memories if I had seen it before. I have never seen a curse that does this kind of damage used, though I do recall a similar curse. The damage was not nearly as extensive, but there are similarities. There were a lot of them who used it back then, but there are three that would be capable of developing a more potent version and executing it to this degree. Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, and Antonin Dolohov.”

The last name sends a shiver down my spine and the fierce dragon protecting my occlumency walls increases in size as I force myself to remain unruffled. Granger’s authoritative tone pulls me out of my mind, “What do you mean they could develop a curse like this? No one can create curses this heinous”

I lower my gaze at her, obvious distaste clouding my expression at the mere suggestion that I don’t know what I am talking about. Another memory shoots past my walls. Blood, slicing pain. A bathroom. My godfather’s curse, which he had created in school. She obviously doesn’t know the depravity of these men. She hurriedly tries to explain, “I am not trying to suggest that you are wrong. It’s just that those three are on the top of the Most Wanted list. We need to be sure that it is them before we let the department loose on them. There are more than a few out in the bullpen who would jump at the chance to go after them for one reason or another. We can’t waste resources that we don’t have on people that might not be responsible for this. At least, we can’t tell people why we are searching for them until we know for sure.”

“Granger, it is them or someone new. Most of the Death Eaters that have escaped your clutches were followers, not willing to go out and take initiative. Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Dolohov jumped at the chance to go on missions. They organized their own revels, and they openly bragged about all of the ways that they could hurt muggles. It is them. If you want more proof, those three were directly responsible for the creation of nearly all of the curses that were used. They thought of that kind of spellwork as a kind of artform. They enjoyed watching people suffer in new and exciting ways.” Another breath of fire out of Bruce’s mouth on top of my walls at the unwanted memories pushing at the edges of my mind. My headache is only getting worse, but I push through. “If it is those three, I can look at the locations that you have raided and see if you have found all of the safe-houses that they used to use. I can’t guarantee that they will still be using any of them though. I was only shown a few. If you are worried about compartmentalization, I am sure that you and the Savior over there can come up with some inane reason that the department is sending a team out on a raid.”

Something like concern crosses her ethereal face after she stares into my eyes. Then a flash of recognition. She knows that I am occluding. You can see it in my eyes, I know you can, but most people don’t know what to look for. She can see it though, the cloudiness, the slight strain. Of course, she can, she’s too intelligent to miss something like that. Merlin, I can’t pull any more of my emotions out from behind my walls. My breathing starts to become shallow and my heart races. What does she think? Does she think that I . . .

Potter interrupts my thoughts before they can devolve too much. “I will put together a map in the next few minutes of all of the locations that we have found already. Mione, do you want to tell him where we think they are? That may help us narrow down their potential locations.” She nods at him, and I don’t miss the conversation that they seem to have without words. It isn’t difficult to see the bond that they have with each other. If I hadn’t spent so much time with them when we were younger, I would have thought that they were romantically involved. But, especially now that I am older, I see a lot of similarities to my relationship with Pansy, without any of the messy sexual histories. Potter stands up and walks back out into the bullpen and I realize, with a start, that I am alone with Granger.

“Malfoy, you don’t need to occlude around me. I was at your trial, so I know about, well, about everything. Maybe, if you let down your shields . . . “ I can see it in her eyes. She thinks that dropping the shield will help, and thinks that I am acting the way that I am because of the occlusion. I can’t drop them. Not with her in the room. Not when she is married. Not when that scar on her arm still exists, just as ugly as the one adorning my own left arm. Instead, I push my chair away from the table and stand up.

“No, you don’t know. I can’t do this without the occlusion and I truly apologize if that offends you, but I would like to try for as much civility as possible. I do have to be home tonight for dinner and I won’t waste valuable time trying to keep myself from falling apart due to poor memories.”

“I thought that you were divorced?” Her question catches me off guard. What does my relationship with Astoria have to do with this? Does she not know about Zoe? Surely Potter would have told her about the fact that I have a daughter. Or, at the very least, as the head of DMLE, she should have access to those records. Maybe she truly doesn’t know.

Without thinking, I blurt out, “I am, but my daughter will be disappointed if she doesn’t have a chance to tell me about her day before bed.” I have never told anyone that secret before unless I was forced to. The Snake Gang only knew because they were over at the manor when Astoria announced it. Potter only found out because I was forced by law to let him investigate those threats. My own mother hasn’t even met Zoe, yet I willingly offered that information to Granger. Of course, I did. I can’t deny her anything. Her face tells me all I need to know about how familiar she is with my life. And how much snooping she did into the old DMLE Head’s records.

“You . . . you have a daughter?” Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of red and her hands start fidgeting in her lap.

“I do.” I don’t volunteer any more information. If she asks, I’ll tell her, but if not, I won’t give out any more details about Zoe unless I have to. I can’t. I have already told her too much and if it was anyone else, my wand would already be out and they would be obliviated.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking . . . and you don’t have to answer. I was just . . . I was just wondering . . .” For the first time that I can recall, Granger looks like she doesn’t know what to say. I don’t know how to handle a Hermione that doesn’t sound sure of herself and it scares me a bit. 

“Spit it out, Granger. If you have a question, just ask it.” I try to sound exasperated, but instead, it comes out amused.

“Well, how old is she?”

“She is five. Though if you ask her, she is 5 and a half. For some reason that she refuses to explain, that half a year is very important.” A smile tugs at my lips at the thought. Before Granger can respond, the door swings open and Potter strides back in with a map in his hands. He places it on the table, smoothing it out in the center, and starts pointing out the various raids that have been successful in apprehending Death Eaters. I give Granger one more look before turning my attention to the map before me. This is going to be a longer day than I expected. 

Chapter Text

Draco

May 31, 2004

“How, in Merlin’s name, have you managed to catch any Death Eaters at all if this is the information that you are relying on. For fuck’s sake Potter, I could’ve told you that Rosier’s tip was shit months ago. That safe house was abandoned before our seventh year.” My headache pounds behind my eyes, sending lances of pain into my skull every few seconds. The map in front of me is a mess, complete with inaccurate information and a clear misallocation of resources. I knew the Ministry was inept, but I had hoped that it wasn’t this bad.

“Rosier was a member of the Inner Circle. We assumed he would have good information. Don’t tell me how to do my job when you have been hiding out in your manor this whole time, not doing a damn thing!” I had forgotten just how red Potter’s face got when he was truly worked up about something. Some small part of me, a part that had laid dormant since the day I was Marked, relished in the fact that I could still elicit that response from the Hero of the Wizarding World.

“Harry, that’s enough. Malfoy, you too!” I hadn’t even realized that a grin had stretched its way across my face. “It doesn’t matter what we have or have not done up to this point. What we need to focus on now is finding these three. The last reports that we had on their whereabouts suggested that they were hiding right outside London proper. Malfoy, any ideas as to where this mysterious hideout might be that is so efficient at remaining hidden.” 

Her chocolate brown eyes are trained on me with an intensity that pins me in place. She is clearly waiting for my response, but I can’t help but take in the moment of her looking at me. I burn it into my memory, as if I don’t have hundreds of memories of her, and lock it away in my mind, not wanting to forget the first time she looked at me like a man with some value and not the petulant little schoolboy I used to be. I can almost forget her chastisement, though my eyes slip to Potter, who looks to be pouting on the other side of the table. One deep breath in, and I am back to that infernal map.

“Fine. We can address the countless pieces of misinformation that you just spewed later. There were a few houses around the London area, but the only one that I can think of that would be the most secure is this one.” A quick flick of my wand and a pin appears on the map, marking the location of the safehouse that tickles in the back of my memories. Please, please let me go. I have a son. He needs me. Please, just AHHHHHHHH. A burst of flames from Bruce atop my mental shields and the memory burns away. I need to focus. 

The house in Havering is small, unassuming on the outside. Just another farmhouse in the expanse of green that is the hallmark of the area. The cheery, bright, even pure outside disguises the horrors that took place in that home. It was a favorite of Dolohov’s when he wanted to keep his victims close to “home.” My “training” took place there all too often and I couldn’t help but remember the cramped rooms, with blood coating every wall. The stained floor. The ceiling had cracked from the screams emanating from the building. The stench made your eyes water as you crossed the threshold. Every excruciating detail fought its way out from behind the wall in my mind, but I pushed them each back. I would get through this, for Granger, for Zoe.

“Malfoy?” Shit! Had she said my name more than once? That certainly sounded a bit impatient. I need to get better control of my thoughts. I nod my head in her direction, hoping that she will forgive my inattentiveness, or at the very least, dismiss it.

“Do you know what kinds of enchantments or wards might be on the property? It would be good to prepare the Curse-Breakers and Aurors before they go in. Any information would be helpful. Though I am sure that we could manage without it.”

“Wait, are you going on the raid, Granger?” She said that she wasn’t an Auror. She couldn’t go to that place. No, that place would be a reminder to her and I can’t let her be in any more pain because of me. 

“Of course, I am going, Malfoy. It is my job to oversee a lot of missions. More importantly, this is my case and I won’t abandon it. I am field-trained, though I don’t go out in the field much.” Her fiery gaze is piercing and I can practically see a lion waiting to pounce underneath her skin. Damn lions. I have seen that look on her face before and it was usually a good indication that she was about to do something reckless and dangerous to save the wizarding race. I stood back for too long and she got hurt, again and again. Not this time.

“Then I am going as well. Bring whatever cursebreakers you need to and Aurors as well. I need to send a message to some people, but I won’t go far. Come and get me when you are ready to go.” The utter shock on Potter’s face gets tucked away in my mind without my own conscious thought. She, however, looks like she is one word away from feeding me to Blast-Ended Screwts.

“Absolutely not! You are a civilian. I can’t just put you out in the field, untrained and untested. No way!” Her magic is sending sparks up and down her arms, and the hair that is barely restrained by a hair tie expands to twice its size. That flush is back in her cheeks and I can’t help the balloon of pride erupting in my chest at the possessiveness that these actions denote, even if it is unknowing on her part. 

“You won’t get in that house without me, even if I did tell your cursebreakers what to expect. Did you forget that I know how these bastards operate, or did you call me here for a casual meetup from old school friends? I can hold my own and I will swear to stay out of the way as you apprehend any suspects if that makes you feel better, but I will not stay behind. Now, I do need to make a few arrangements. If you’ll excuse me.” A mock bow of my head towards Potter, and a sweeping bow that I exaggerate, just to get under her skin a bit more, and then I turn on my heel and stride out of the room. Every head turns to me as I exit. My face remains impassive as I move towards a relatively empty hallway, needing a bit of privacy for the conversation that I need to have now.

Each door down this hallway is locked. Why the hell is each door locked? This is just ridiculous. I need to be somewhere where I can’t be seen. I don’t dare speak the incantation out loud. I can’t let anyone know what I am doing. The mere idea of it would send shockwaves throughout the entire Ministry and I won’t put a bigger target on my own back. Damn it! Not a single door is unlocked in this hallway. Guess I am not going to be able to hide myself off in a room. All I get to do is hope that no one sees the light. 

Zoe floods my mind. Her laugh when she flies down the banister. Her smile when she showed me her magic yesterday. Her joy as she dances with Bruce in the sitting room. Expecto Patronum. The silvery Hungarian Horntail erupts from my wand, filling the entirety of the end of the hallway. Thankfully the dragon decides not to preen like he normally does and instead keeps his wings folded tight to his body. I haven’t used this form of communication in a while. Blaise is going to have a field day with me when I get home at my choice of messenger. “Tell Blaise Zabini, I got caught up in the case. I will be back late tonight. I will let Effie know, but please let Zoe know that I love her and that she can stay up past her bedtime tonight so that I can tuck her in.” he nods his scaly head and disappears into the air.

“So, the Master Death Eater is able to produce one of the most difficult pieces of light magic in the world. I thought true Death Eaters couldn’t produce Patronus’, though I could be wrong. Ron’s gonna be pissed that he lost the bet. He thought your Patronus would definitely be a ferret.” If I had hackles, they would be raised at the fact that Potter, of all people, saw my Patronus. Like he needs one more secret of mine. The amusement in his eyes is a sharp contrast to the defeated man I met last night. At least that is fixed.

“What’s it to you, Potter? It isn’t as if I was ever very successful as a Death Eater anyways.” Obfuscation, that usually works. Now, if I can just leave this hallway.

“No argument there, Malfoy. But a dragon? Really? Seems a bit on the nose doesn’t it?” A genuine laugh leaves his mouth and it doesn’t rake my nerves as much as it used to. 

“I didn’t exactly get a choice now did I? Though I have to admit that I would much rather have a large dragon than a ferret.” Painful images from fourth-year flash through my mind and my shoulder give a twinge of pain from the fracture that never healed completely right. “Why did you follow me?”

“Mione told me to see if I could talk you out of coming with us.” 

“And are you going to actually try to convince me? I thought we discussed this last night. You asked for my help, so I am going to help. That includes getting your sorry ass into the house and getting myself home.”

“Well, I never told Mione that I would actually try to get you to stay here. We’d be sitting ducks out there without any knowledge that you have.” I can’t help the eyebrow that shoots up into my hairline, but Potter notices it without skipping a beat. “Look, the last safehouse we raided. Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. I made just as many promises to the rest of my Aurors as I made to you and I intend to keep them. As much as I hate having to ask you of all people, if you give us a better chance at leaving alive and uninjured, then it’s worth the headache of paperwork I’m gonna have to deal with later.”

“I told you last night, but I will remind you now. I will do whatever it takes to get home. I don’t give a shit how much paperwork it will involve or who it might piss off. Getting home is my top priority, making sure these bastards get what they deserve is a close second.”

Potter opens his mouth, to say something utterly incompetent no doubt when a silver peacock flies out of nowhere. It lands in front of us, looks at Potter, and promptly fans out its tail, barely missing the walls of the hallway. Her Patronus has just as much flair for the dramatic as its originator. I can’t help but smile at Potter’s complete and utter shock at the sight before him. 

The beak stretches, and Pansy’s voice floats through the hallway, “I’m going to try to pretend like I am not insulted that you sent a message to Blaise and not me. She is doing fine and having a great time with Luca. Take your time and tell Potter that if you get hurt, there is no place on this Earth that he will be able to hide to escape my wrath.” The tail shakes violently and the bird screeches before disappearing. 

“Was that Pansy Parkinson?” Potter’s face has lost a little bit of color. My smile is replaced quickly by my old friend, the classic Malfoy sneer.

“It’s Zabini now. Call her Parkinson at your own peril. What’s that face for Potter? Was seeing two Slytherin-produced Patronuses too much for you to handle? Might want to shake off your surprise before we have to head out.”

“Whatever Malfoy. I will be back to get you in a few minutes when the strike team is ready.”

I don’t even pay attention to Potter as he leaves me alone with my thoughts. Instead, my thoughts are centered around Zoe. She’s okay. I knew she would be. And of course, she has spent the day playing with Luca. She has probably had more fun today than she had when I was teaching her rudimentary spells. Now, I just need to go infiltrate a hideout that could potentially be filled with some of my deadliest enemies. Merlin, what did I get myself into? Why didn’t Blaise talk me out of this? He and I are going to have words when I get home tonight.

I start combing through my memories of the wards surrounding each hideout. Dolohov made most of them, using odd combinations and intense magic that would take all of my concentration to crack. Not to mention the curses they would be willing to sling at us if they got even a hint that we were onto them. Counter-curses flicker in my mind like a photo album, one after the other, as I try to prepare the information that I need to give the Aurors. Hopefully, Potter is smart enough to leave the Ginger Wonder here or this could get ugly. 

I probably paced in that hallway, running through mock scenarios in my head, for thirty minutes before Potter came back to tell me that they were preparing to leave. I take a deep breath in and follow him back into the main room. The chaos that I noticed this morning is eerily absent. A large group of uniformed men and women now line one side of the expansive room and those who do not belong to that group seem to have stopped whatever they were working on. It’s like the entire room is poised on the edge of a knife, just waiting for something to tip them off and start the chaos once again. I don’t miss the flickers of fear, confusion, hatred, and admiration that pass the faces of those who lock eyes on Potter and me walking in together, but I settle my eyes on the brunette who is facing the large group down like a stern professor about to lecture her students. 

I must have stopped walking when we got close to her because Potter grips the sleeve of my jacket to pull me into line with the group. Facing Hermione now is a surreal experience. Anyone with half a brain knew that she was the brains behind the Golden Trio’s success, responsible for the dimwits survival for years, but she let herself get overshined by Potter over and over during school. Now, she is a general readying her troops with a steady hand. I cast my gaze over the group. I am the only one who doesn’t have their attention solely focused on her. They all look ready to jump in front of a killing curse for her, and I can’t blame them. Merlin knows I would do anything to protect her, though she will never know it.

“You have all been briefed, but I want to make sure that you are as prepared as possible for this mission. We are raiding a potential safehouse for some of the most dangerous Death Eaters out of custody. Team leaders, you have been given your orders. Not a toe out of line, or you will be out of the field before you can say Quidditch. We will have no mistakes, no slip-ups. They will not escape us so easily.” Nods from a few members of the group, who must run their own investigative teams and general hums of approval follow her speech, but if I know Granger, then she isn’t done. Some grumbles run through the group, but they are abruptly cut off when she opens her mouth once more. 

“We have called in an outside contractor who will be helping us dismantle the wards around the house and debriefing each team leader on the curses that need to be expected. If any one of you has an issue working with Draco Malfoy, speak now!” My blood turns to ice. I didn’t expect her to give them an option. Now we won’t even have a group of Aurors to march in, and I sure as hell am not walking into that house with only Granger and her scarred shadow. 

The group devolves into mumbles as each Auror stares me down, weighing my reliability. I feel the weight of each stare like a stone on my chest. Their judgment is tangible and it takes all of my strength to keep from curling in on myself under their gazes. Most of them, thankfully, don’t seem to be leaving, but I should have known that I wouldn’t escape this scrutiny without hearing from Weasel at least once.

“He’s one of them, and we are just trusting that he will help us get into the hideout. How do we know that he won’t turn on us the second we get there, or lead us directly into a trap? He shouldn’t even be allowed to walk free. He should be in Azkaban with the rest of his kind and not in the Auror department!” His voice has deepened since school, but his arguments have the same bull-headed bluntness. Ever the fearless lion. Despite the fact that he is asking questions that she could easily combat, Granger seems to shrink in on herself, her previous confidence fizzling out a bit. The shine of her ring dulls and a pang of guilt tugs at my stomach. I am the reason that she is doubting herself right now and if I could get away with it and not leave Zoe abandoned, I would have Weasel’s head on a pike in ten seconds. I give her a few more seconds to explain my presence to Weasel, but she doesn’t move to answer his queries. I stood by and watched her shrivel once without doing anything. I won’t do it this time.

“If I had known that I would have been working with vermin, I would not have appeared today, Weasel. As it stands, I am your best chance of getting in and out of that house unscathed and I would rather not sit in front of the Wizengamot again anytime soon. I will be surrounded by Britain's finest, supposedly, so if I am the snake that you believe me to be, you should recognize that I value self-preservation before anything else. I want to get out of there alive just as much as you do, and I am going with you instead of staying here and simply telling you about the curses, so I am risking my neck along with the rest of you. Any more accusations, Weasel, or are you going to save the oxygen for someone more worthy?” 

The last dig earned me a glare from Granger, but at least she has regained some of her lost confidence. Weasel, meanwhile, has turned such a deep shade of red that his skin matches his hair and Potter moves rather quickly to his side of the group to try and hold Weasel back from doing something stupid. Then again, stupid is the Ginger Wonder’s mode of Operandi. 

Granger barks out a few orders and a couple of Aurors converge on me. The next few minutes are a blur as I try to detail the curses to expect and their respective counter-curses, but it doesn’t take long to know that these men and women are utterly unprepared. The looks of shock and horror are plain on each of their faces and I know that the information that has become just another one of my painful memories, is something that they have never even imagined in their darkest nightmares. Some small part of me delights in the fact that I won’t have to carry this burden by myself any longer, delights in the despair on their faces before I can squash it down. 

Then, the cursebreakers descend and I am forced to give a crash course in Dolohov wards. This group, it seems, is a bit more experienced than the last. They, at least, don’t balk at some of the consequences that could be triggered if the wards are dismantled improperly. However, they also don’t seem to have experience dealing with the sheer intensity of the magic involved in protecting these locations. Not for the first time today, I am struck by the lack of real information that the department has on these men. Their knowledge is so limited, and I don’t truly have the time to tell them everything that they would need to know. At least I can go home tonight, knowing that I did my best for them. Right now, all I can do is hope that my best is enough.

At some point during my “debriefing,” I had taken off my suit jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. I had taken the time this morning to put a glamor charm over that Mark just to ensure that I didn’t get any more stares than normal. Thankfully, I had that foresight because the bullpen has jumped in temperature and I can’t even think about putting my jacket back on. 

The last cursebreaker walks back to his group after asking a few lingering questions about some of the charm work on a particularly tricky ward and that’s when I feel it. The eyes that are following me, watching my back. I turn around and my eyes meet rich chocolate ones, full of curiosity. I don’t know how long she has been watching, but she doesn’t break eye contact and she mouths, Are you ready? I nod my head slightly, flipping my wand through my fingers. It’s a nervous habit that I picked up in school, and I can’t help but do it now. My heart thunders in my ears, knowing the words that are going to leave her mouth before they reach my ears.

“Everyone been debriefed? Good. You know your orders. Stay sharp. Let’s go.” With that, the crack of apparition sounds across the room. Potter nods his head to me in understanding and I close my eyes, imagining Zoe’s sleeping form curled up in my bed. I gently place the memory in its own special place in my mind and lock it down. My walls come up brick by brick and I take one last look at the Ministry hallways before apparating. 

The smell assaults my senses as the world sharpens into clarity. It’s the smell of growing things, of rain, of the clear morning air. The smell of life and purity. The smell of the country. Despite all of the horrors I endured there, this is one of the reasons that I would never be able to leave the Manor behind. I had always been partial to the country, for the sounds of the bugs and birds as they went about their lives, untouched by most of humanity. The smell of everything growing in whatever way it fashioned, unyielding to the advances of technology. The feeling of freedom that could only come from being miles away from the nearest touch of mankind. I take in a deep breath, allowing the scent to wash over me before turning towards that cursed building and stepping into what was sure to be a nightmare.

I feel the magic before I see the ward-line. It’s dark and intrusive, calling to the shattered pieces of my magic that I had long ago surrendered to the altar of dark magic. The cursebreakers are spread out along the property line, brows furrowed in concentration and beads of sweat already showing on their brows as each one worked to bring down the next level of wards. They would apparate out after the wards were down, less collateral damage if anything went badly. I stride up to the line and lift my own wand, closing my eyes to focus on the task at hand. My walls, firmly in place, hold as I extend my magic outwards and begin dismantling the wards as I come to them.

It takes only a few minutes, but it feels like hours spent in that line trying to breach Dolohov’s handiwork. My head pounds at the magical strain, but I keep pushing, sensing that we are close to cracking them. The last ward falls and, suddenly, the wizard to my left disapparates in a flash of colors. Granger strides over from her place at the wards a few paces away from my own. She looks just as tired and strained as I do, but her eyes shine with boldness. She won’t leave, not even if she is walking in without her full strength. I shouldn’t be so hypocritical, because that is exactly what I intend to do, but I can’t help the surge of protectiveness in my soul that urges me to try and convince her to leave.

“You know, it’s not too late for you to leave. We will be fine without you. The teams have all the information now.” Genuine concern floods her features. I don’t deserve it, don’t deserve her to care about me, but a piece of my scarred heart heals at her words.

“In for a penny, in for a pound Granger. Let’s go get these bastards.” My words hold more bravado than I feel, but I won’t give her an excuse to send me back. No, I need to see this out. Need to catch them. Need to make this place safe again for Granger, for Zoe.

Potter makes some gestures with his hand, and the teams of Aurors break off and begin to surround the house. Mercifully, Weasel’s team was stationed on the opposite side of the house from where Granger and I are approaching. We move silently, wands drawn and steady. The team in front of us reaches the door first and the world seems to quiet and take a collective breath. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

CRASH!!! The doors come flying off the hinges and violent shouts echo through the countryside and a flurry of colors erupts throughout the house. We move quickly now, rushing inside as the sounds of chaos only increase. I beat Granger to the threshold, shouldering her behind me as I walk into my old torture chamber.

The scent of blood now coats the air and the screams hit my ear in a garbled mess of spells, counter-curses, and hisses of pain. A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye and I spin, coming face-to-face with a young man, no older than 18. He raises his wand to me, eyes full of hatred, and begins to shout a curse. The red light leaves my wand with no sound from me and hits his body before he even utters a single syllable. He goes down, my Stunner hitting him squarely in his unguarded chest and I quickly bind him with Incarcerous. 

A line of sickeningly dark purple shoots past my head, narrowly missing me, from the opposite direction. I scan my surroundings to look for the offender and notice that Granger is no longer behind me. Panic starts to rise in my chest and a flurry of rainbow-colored curses litter the wall behind me. SLAM! A chandelier crashes down, a casualty of the crossfire from the spells. The very walls of the house shake with the intensity of the magic within the walls. Cracks of curses and apparition ring out. 

I get to my feet, the constant stream of curses finally ceasing, and sprint through the hallway, wand outstretched in front of me. I pass a few Aurors and am hit with some of the curses. Two of the leaders that I had spoken to earlier are darting from person to person, and performing the counter-curses that I had tried to teach early. I keep running, trying not to dwell on the fact that many of those I passed would not get the counter-curse in time, but I can’t stop. I need to find them, need to get them, need to watch them die. They need to be gone, no matter what Granger or Potter might say about it. 

A few people, some I recognize and others I don’t, dart out from hidden alcoves and doorways, throwing curses at me. I dodge the jet of blue light, throwing a shield over my body before letting loose a few Stunners in their direction. There are two of them ahead of me now. A few more jets of light rush past my head, hip, and shoulder. Each jet of red light from my own wand is met with an equally effective dodge or shield charm from my opponents. Then, the green light shoots past me, into the emptiness of the room behind me. An image floods my mind, completely unbidden. Zoe, Bruce dangling limply from her hand, standing at the family mausoleum, crying into Pansy’s legs. A red, hot spike of anger clouds my vision and I release any restraints I had on my magic and let the darkness consume me.

The curses I use aren’t pretty. They were never designed to be. In fact, they were designed for pain, for suffering. But they are damn effective at stopping an opponent, and they are not immediately lethal. If treated quickly, the fucking Death Eaters would recover, hopefully just in time for them to rot with the dementors for the rest of their miserable lives. My shoes are stained with their blood as I walk through the path they had blocked a few seconds ago and come into the master bedroom, the hub of operations. 

Books litter every flat surface in the room except for the bed, which is covered in blood stains. Some fresh, some weeks old. The splatters extend to the frame and headboard and my stomach turns at the memories of the old uses for this bedroom. They would not find the bodies, but there were more victims than the ones that led Potter to my door. Many more.

A blood-curdling scream reaches my ears, and my feet are moving before I can fully process the things that I saw in that bedroom. I know that voice, I have heard that scream before. I would not fail her, not this time. A cord pulls tightly in my gut, the same pull I remember from years ago. The pull that told me she was in pain. My gut roils at the thought and I sprint, lungs and muscles burning.

I burst out of the back door of the house to find Hermione curled on the ground, battling the Cruciatus curse wracking her body, performed by Antonin Dolohov. His lips are curled into an unearthly sneer, features more animalistic than human. 

“You little bitch! You didn’t die that night at the Department of Mysteries like a good little Mudblood, but we can fix that right here and now, can’t we?” His voice sounds like sandpaper and memories push hard against my mental shields. Memories of “training,” of watching him exterminate Muggles, of countless other atrocities battle to get to the forefront of my mind. 

“Like hell, you will Dolohov.” My voice is somehow calm and relaxed. I sound like Lucius, but I don’t care. Not when my words have stopped his concentration on the curse. Not when she is next to me, on the ground, whimpering, shaking with the pain. Where the hell is Potter or the Weasel, or any of the other Aurors? Why is no one else out here?

“Ahh. Malfoy JR. Do you truly think that you can stop me? Do you think that you can take me down with a well-placed Stunner? It’s going to take more than that to bring me down. You know that. And you can’t do it. You couldn’t then, and you certainly can’t now. How’s the little girl? I’ve been meaning to pay her a visit.” His yellow teeth and split lips make him look even more deranged than he used to be. I don’t even bother responding before slinging a curse at him. The curse will cause his very blood to boil, but he deflects it with ease, laughing like Aunt Bella. It’s a cruel, haunting sound that strikes a chord of fear in me. Another curse from my wand, he deflects again before sending one of his own at me. 

My entire world narrows to him, to the pattern of his movements, to the slightest shake in his wand arm, to the direction of his gaze. I calculate each step that he takes, each movement of his arms, and each breath he takes in. My headache is nearly unbearable and my magic is strained. Every curse from my wand is weaker than the last. I know it and he knows it. I can see it in his beady, black, soulless eyes. His gaze shifts to something behind my right shoulder and his smile stretches wider as if he planned this duel. He shoots another curse at me and then bows his head slightly. A mocking gesture. I am helpless as the colors around his body shift and blur. He apparates away and I am abruptly thrust back into the real world.

I register the noise first. Shouts and screams and cracks as personnel rush around the property. Aurors, mediwitches, and a whole goddamn army wearing Ministry uniforms parade around the farmhouse. I turn around, trying to see what Dolohov found behind me, and notice nothing unusual. My attention shifts back to the place on the ground where Hermione was a few minutes before. She is gone, her wand with her and I am sure that she is somewhere in the house, barking orders as if this was simply a normal day at work. As if she wasn’t just tortured by someone who had already marred her body irreparably. 

People rush by, unbothered by my disheveled appearance. “Malfoy!” Merlin, that’s what I need right now. Potter is jogging up to me from the direction of the house, concern flooding his gaze. 

“I’m fine, Potter. Magically exhausted, but fine. Where is Granger? She should be looked at by the healers.” He sighs in resignation like he anticipated my comment. He jerks his chin away from the house and we walk towards the property line, away from the swarm of people now dismantling the house of horrors. 

“I know. I saw her on the ground and apparated her back to her office at the Ministry. She is with a mediwitch now, one of the best. I take care of my own. Can you apparate?” 

“Not without leaving my torso at this godforsaken place. Everyone makes it out okay?” His eyebrows nearly fly off of his forehead. “I do have some sympathy for others, despite the Prophet’s claims to the contrary.” I don’t even bother hiding the derision in my voice. My head is pounding, my body is exhausted, and I need to go home and hold my daughter.

“A few casualties. I will fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have a promise to keep.” A shadow passes his face, and I know that there are more than a few injuries, but I shove that piece of information aside and push forward.

“And what promise is that, Potter?”

“To get you home, Malfoy.” He grips my arm, either unaware or uncaring about the Mark that he now holds in his hand, and apparates us back to the bullpen. 

Potter tells me to get checked by a mediwitch, but each one I pass sends me a look of pure hatred, and I can’t bring myself to stay in this godforsaken place any longer than I have to. Silently, I slip out of the office area and to the elevators. I am not stopped by a single person as I make my way to the fireplaces, shout “Zabini Estate” and disappear in a puff of green smoke. 

The floor parlor is blissfully empty as I step out of the green flames. Not even a trace of the toddler wandering the halls. The room has a chill that makes me remember, I left my jacket at the Ministry. Well, guess I will have to have Potter send me an owl later, or just let them burn it. Merlin knows I can always buy another one.

I do a quick scan of the rest of my outfit, noticing the blood that coats my shoes and shirt and I curse under my breath. Pans is going to kill me for tracking blood anywhere in her home. Not to mention that there is no way in hell I will let Zoe see me like this. I won’t scare her needlessly. I mutter a quick Scourgify under my breath and call for Turm.

The wizened old elf appears in the parlor a second later, ears flapping behind him. “Mister Draco. Are you here for the Little Mistress? She has been so good today, she has. She is playing in the toy room with the Mistress and Little Master. Would Mister Draco like me to take him to her?” 

Turm is far older than Effie and adheres to much more traditional house-elf roles. He mostly keeps himself to the shadows and he certainly would never even think to speak a harsh word to one of his masters. The only thing that he has ever done that was outside of the norm, was claiming Zoe as his “Little Mistress.” It was odd for any elf not directly tied to a wizard or witch to call said wizard or witch by the title Mistress or Master. It was natural for Effie, but Turm, Mopsy, and the other Zabini and Nott elves all referred to Zoe by the title “Little Mistress.” 

“That would be very helpful Turm. I will follow you. Lead the way.” Turm flaps his ears once and then turns on his heels and exits the parlor, hurrying towards a room I know well. As we walk, I tear my walls down slowly, trying to keep the flood of memories and images from completely overwhelming me. The pressure in my head hasn’t stopped and I know that I need to get checked out by a healer, but all I care about is Zoe. I will ask Theo to come over later, just to make sure I don’t need further medical attention, but right now I am getting my daughter.

I hear her voice before Turm and I even reach the door to the threshold. “Fly faster Bruce! We need to reach the castle before the big, bad wizards do. Prince Luc needs our help. They are getting closer. Wheeeeeee.” Her squeals of delight are a balm to my frayed nerves, settling deep in my heart and patching up some of the wounds I had ripped open today. My footsteps quicken and I open the door with all of my usual flourishes, not able to hold back from her any longer.

“Bruce better fly super fast, or princess Zoe will be caught by the terrible tickle monster.” Her attention snaps to me and she flies at me so fast that she looks more like a blur than a person. I bend down, scooping her up in my arms, and throw her at the ceiling. When I catch her, she snuggles tightly into my neck, her arms thrown around my head, hugging me tightly to her. “Did you have a good day with Luca, my light?”

She pulls away from her spot against my neck so that she can look me in the eyes. “It was the best day ever, Dad! Luc and I played prince and princess all day. I almost read all of Babbity Rabbity and Aunt Pans made my dress for your birthday party. But, this is my favorite part of my day because you came back for me. Aunt Pans and Uncle Z said that you would. Bruce wants to hear all about your adventure today, Dad. Can we go on an adventure tomorrow?”

My heart breaks at the thought that she wouldn’t think I would come back for her, but I clamp down on that thought, clipping it at the root. Blaise’s voice rings out from the floor, “Would you like me to tell you I-told-you-so now, or later?”

A feminine chuckle emanates from Pansy and I take in their figures on the floor, curled around their son. Amusement shines in both of their eyes, along with that air only mastered by Slytherins. They both wear a look that says, I knew this would happen before you did and you were dumb enough to think that you knew better. Something in my face must let them know that I am too tired for the revelry they will undoubtedly throw to mark the occasion of me being so spectacularly wrong, but I don’t give a shit. They can take out an article in the damn Prophet and I wouldn’t bat an eye. All I can think about is the look of unadulterated love shining in Zoe’s eyes.

I nuzzle her neck, drawing a few giggles from her as my stubble tickles her, and turn towards Pansy and Blaise. “My light, what do we say to Aunt Pansy and Uncle Blaise for letting you play with them all day?”

“Thank you for letting me come over and play all day, Aunt Pans and Uncle Z. Can I come over again soon? Luc is my best friend ever. Oh, and can we bring Thea too. We can all play dragons together.” Her gaze shifts between Pansy and Blaise on the floor and then to me. The light in her eyes melts my heart and I know that she has won. Pansy smirks and mouths Superpower at me. I nod at both of them and stride from the room heading for the floo.

“I am sure that Uncle Theo and Aunt Luna would love to bring Athena over soon, but we will have to ask them, okay? Do you know what time it is?” I tap my finger on her nose and she scrunches away from my touch, a bright smile on her face.

“Is it flying time?”

“No, sweetheart, it is bedtime. Would you like to have a sleepover tonight?” Her silver eyes shine at the suggestion and she bounces in my arms, excitement clear in all of her features.

It doesn’t take long after we get home to get her into her pajamas and to curl up into bed, after warning Effie of course. She scoots herself back into my arms, pressed tightly against my chest, and in no time at all is softly snoring against my pillow. Exhaustion sets in, coating my mind and I press a light kiss to her temple before slipping into the world of dreams, chasing Zoe the whole way.

I wake up around 6:00 AM and disentangle myself from Zoe before slipping out of the room and downstairs. My body aches and my head pounds, but nothing compared to the pain I felt yesterday seems to reach me. Regardless, I reach for a pain potion in the kitchen cupboard and begin to make myself a cup of tea. That’s when I feel it, the tug of someone at the gate of the property. I call Effie, tell her to watch over Zoe, and head towards the front gate, painfully aware of the fact that I am clad in only a pair of grey sweatpants and my boxers.

I reach the gate, and my heart stops. Potter stands there, clad in his Auror robes, but unlike a few nights ago, he is not alone. Instead, Granger and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, stand next to his side, both clad in their work attire as well. I walk up to the gate, slowly, and stare them each down, ice in my eyes. “I haven’t broken any of the terms of my parole, nor have I done anything that would warrant all of your presence, so I am inclined to give you one warning. If you are here to arrest me, then you might as well turn around and come back with an army, because the three of you will not be able to penetrate these wards unless I let you in.”

Granger lifts her head slightly, twisting so that she avoids the bars of the gate and meets my gaze. “We are not here to arrest you, Malfoy. We would like to speak with you about your performance yesterday and that would be much easier if we didn’t have these bars between us.”

I don’t miss the slight bit of panic that permeates her stare as she looks at the looming building behind me, but she seems sincere about the reason for their visit. Though I don’t remember independent contractors getting reviews. Especially not involving the Minister. 

With a flick of my wrist and the gate swings open. Granger takes a shaky step forward, Potter squeezing her hand as she does so and the three of them pass onto the property. “There is a table on the veranda to the side of the house if you prefer.” I don’t know why I make the offer. Maybe because Granger looks like she is about to lose her breakfast, or because I don’t want to invite any more people into my home to catch a glimpse of Zoe. Regardless, Granger shoots me a gracious look and nods.

I lead them around the manor and stop at the hard, metal chairs and table that Mother used to take her afternoon tea on. We each take a seat and the silence hangs in the air as I wait for one of them to start talking. They seem to be waiting for the same thing. So this wasn’t very well planned at least.

Potter finally breaks the tension. “We lost 5 Aurors yesterday. Nothing we could have done. Killing curse. You asked me yesterday and I promised more information, so there you have it.”

I swear under my breath, hoping that the Minister doesn’t catch it. Five Aurors. That’s five people that didn’t get to go home to their families, didn’t get to hold their babies. Dammit. I should’ve been faster. Maybe if I had

“At our last raid, we lost 12 Aurors, Malfoy.” Her voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts and I am harshly brought back to reality. “You helped save so many people yesterday. Things would have gone a lot worse if we did not have your information or help.”

Stoicism be damned. I’m fairly certain that my jaw is on the ground as she forges ahead. “I have reports from no less than 10 Aurors stating that you took out suspects who would have killed them. Not to mention the Aurors that were successfully given the counter-curse in time to prevent serious damage from some of the more brutal curses. And, you saved me.” Her head dips a bit at that, color rising in her cheeks and I don’t miss the tremor that shoots through her hands as she speaks, though she tries to hide it. That cord in my chest feels as if someone plucked it.

“Everyone here is incredibly impressed with your gallantry, knowledge, and general performance yesterday. You protected many people and we are all grateful, but more than that, we are aware of how different this mission could have one, had you not been there. We were able to apprehend 5 suspects, working in conjunction with the Lestrange brothers and Dolohov.” The Minister is sitting back in his chair, his hands folded across his chest and a masterful politician smile plastered on his face. “It is my understanding that both Mr. Potter and Mrs. Granger have told you about some of our more disastrous missions?”

“They have told me only the bare bones of these missions. I did not ask for details, nor do I wish to hear them now.”

“Then you know that you have given us the first meaningful tools to tracing these people that we have had in years?”

“I would never presume to be that influential. I simply provided what I could, as promised.”

“Don’t be modest, Mr. Malfoy. It doesn’t suit you. We would like to offer you a temporary position on the Dark Wizards Task Force in the DMLE.”

If I was not sitting down, my knees would have crumbled beneath me. Instead, I drop the tea cup I was sipping moments ago and stare, wide-eyed, at the three people before me. The Minister continues as if he didn’t map every piece of my reaction.

“Mr. Potter is in charge of the Task Force at the operational level, while Mrs. Granger will oversee this branch as part of her duties as the head of the department.”

“Minister, with all due respect, I was told at my sentencing that I would be ineligible for any position at the Ministry, due to my status as a Dark Wizard.” I don’t phrase it as a question, but I know that he can see the question in my eyes. Years of interacting in pureblood circles don’t simply leave a person, no matter how much one might decry the idiocies of pureblood ideology. 

“We, the three of us, have agreed to hire you temporarily as an independent contractor on a trial basis. If you can continue to display exemplary work and results, we will petition the Wizengamot to reexamine your sentence and allow you to become a Ministry employee.”

Potter shifts and continues, “We need you. You proved that yesterday. Frankly, you gave us more information than we have been able to gather since the First Wizarding War. I told you when I asked for your help. I will beg if I have to, but if you won’t say yes for me and for many of us here right now, say yes for her. Make the world safer for her. I do the same for my son.”

His brutal honesty breaks through the walls building in my mind. Each fear and concern floats away at that last statement. Potter has a son. Of course, I knew that. It was all over the Prophet. He’s a few months younger than Zoe. How had I forgotten?

I had dreamed of being an Auror and that was all within reach now. All I had to do was say yes. That was it.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and picture Zoe. “I don’t care how much paperwork it makes you do, my promise to you yesterday still stands. I come home to her at any and all costs. You understand that, right?”

Potter’s gaze is steely and he simply nods. 

“Then, it looks like you have yourselves an independent contractor.”

Chapter Text

Zoe

November 1, 2007

BRRRRRRRRRRR!

I bolt upright in bed, Frank’s harsh cry floating through my window. He has been so temperamental lately, but I think that it’s just because Penelope has been rejecting him. It is kinda funny to watch him chase her around the gardens with his tail all fanned out behind him. He has been so desperate that he got himself caught in the hedge mazes yesterday and it took Aunt Lu, Thea, and I almost 20 minutes to get him dislodged.

I roll over, groaning at the assaulting sunlight streaming in through my curtains. I won’t be able to fall back asleep, so I guess I should get up and get ready for the day. Dad and I always do something special after Halloween, just the two of us. Dad hasn’t told me what the plan is, but I know that it will be awesome. He always goes crazy, trying to make up for the time that he cannot spend with me. 

Yikes, my hair is a rat’s nest. I should probably get it cut because it reaches halfway down my back, but I love how long it is. Plus, since it is so long, it gives me an extra excuse for the reason that I always need Dad’s help to braid it. I could do it myself, but he just does it better. I love the time that we spend together in the morning, not talking about anything, just sitting there and being together. I brush through my tangled hair, the brush catching every couple brushes on a knot and I don’t wince or flinch. Signs of pain can be misunderstood as weakness, and a Malfoy is not weak. It’s probably stupid, but I don’t want to disappoint Dad, so I practice schooling my features whenever I can, even if it’s just when I am brushing my hair.

Once my hair is relatively tame, I don’t even bother changing before padding downstairs to the library. Effie is probably making breakfast right now, but I want to get a few more pages into my latest book, Hunting Prince Dracula . It’s an adventure series about a witch who hunts down killer vampires. Aunt Pans got them for my birthday and I want to finish the series before Christmas so I can get the next series. I am on the last book, but Dad has been making me practice like crazy lately. He started adding “strategy” classes to our magic lessons. And he has started to teach me potion recipes, making me memorize ingredients and recite them when he thinks that I’m not paying attention. Which means that my reading time is way less than it used to be. 

The Manor is always so quiet in the mornings. On Dad’s days off, he likes to sleep in so Effie silences all of her work. There might have been more noise if Dad hadn’t silenced most of the portraits of our ancestors that live in the hallway between our rooms and the staircase to the main level. I don’t blame Dad though. Most of the old guys just sneer at me and scoff at Dad whenever we walk by. Today is no different, though the one at the end, my grandfather, is missing. He is probably visiting the portrait of Nana Cissa downstairs. I don’t think Dad knows that the two portraits visit a ton, but I haven’t told him yet because Nana Cissa’s portrait asked me not to. She seems nice, even though I haven’t met Nana Cissa in person. 

The lights are on in the kitchen and I poke my head in the doorway. Effie is humming while she makes eggs and toast. Her little hips are wiggling like she is dancing and I have to put my hand over my mouth to hold back my laugh. She looks so silly, but I love her and her antics. Shaking my head, I continue my walk to the library, stepping through bands of sunlight peeking in from the closed windows along the long hallway. A shudder rolls up my back when I pass the locked room. Dad calls it the drawing room. I have never gone in there, not once. It feels wrong and Dad doesn’t like to talk about it, so it has been locked up for as long as I can remember. But, it’s on the way when I take the shortest walk from my room to the library, so I hurry past it, walking faster than a lady should until I reach the giant oak doors that lead into my favorite room in the whole Manor. 

The library is huge, and I mean HUGE. We have so many books that Dad hasn’t even read them all. There is a spiral staircase that leads up to the top level with a metal, curvy railing. There are at least four reading nooks tucked into the back wall. I have explored most of them, but my favorite is the smallest one in the farthest corner from the front doors. It is dark wood lined and has a giant bay window that looks out to the garden. There are three, emerald green, velvet pillows that line the wall. You can tell that I have claimed this nook as my own by the wall opposite the pillows. I have hung a few pictures of Dad and I at eye level and used a few push pins to hang some of the Baby Snakes’ artwork that they made for me. There is a mug of tea in the back left corner that Uncle Theo bought me on his and Aunt Lu’s trip to the United States that has the Empire State Building on it. Next to the mug is a stack of about 10 books about a lot of different things. I have 2 charm textbooks, a potions book, a theoretical book on transfiguration, and a few books on dark magic that Dad insists I read. Finally, there is a blanket that is roughly stitched. It is made of a shiny blue material that is interrupted by a few patches of shimmering grey thread. To most people, it just looks like random sparkly dots, but I know better. When I spread my blanket out all the way, the patches make the constellation that I am named after, Cassiopeia. It’s the only thing that I have from Nana Cissa and I love it a lot.

I snuggle into my nook and start reading my vampire book. I read about two chapters before Dad clears his throat behind me. “I should have known that I would find you here? What are you up to today, my light?”

He hasn’t gotten dressed yet either, except he put on a pair of his “at home” pants that Aunt Pans hates. His hair is all messed up and his eyes are still kinda tired by the edges. He stretches out his hand and helps pull me up from my nook. My legs uncurl and I jump down, never letting go of his hand for even a second. He spins me, just like we practice when we dance together, and then he pulls me in for a hug. I am getting super tall and I can wrap my arms around his hips now. My head almost goes up to his chest, but not quite yet.

“Morning Dad. Are you going to tell me what we are doing today or is it still a surprise? I like surprises, but I really want to know where we are going. Uncle Z said that he is super excited, but I thought that it was just us today?” 

I had talked to Uncle Z yesterday while we were getting Trace dressed in her Halloween costume. She was a unicorn, but she kept trying to crawl away when we tried to put her horn on. Luc did that when he was little too, so it makes sense that she would do that since she is only one. Uncle Z wouldn’t tell me anything about today even though I tried to use my superpower on him. Instead, he had just looked at me, laughed with that sparkle in his eyes, and then said, “Your dad wants to keep it a surprise for a reason, squirt. Let’s try to help him keep a secret this one time.”

Dad sighed, rolling his eyes at the fact that I got any information from Uncle Z probably, before leading me out of the library. “How is it that you are able to worm secrets out of all of your Aunts and Uncles, but if you tell them a secret, they will take it to their grave before telling me?”

“Because I am their princess, just like I am yours, Dad.” My smile is so big that it hurts my cheeks, but I love playing with Dad. He knows almost all of my secrets, but Uncle Theo listens even when I don’t want to tell him things. And Dad isn’t wrong. My Aunts and Uncles don’t keep much from me, obviously because of my superpower.

“Well then, Your Majesty, “ Dad drops into a low bow as I giggle, “Allow me to escort you to breakfast.” Dad sticks out his arm as gentlemen do, and I loop my arm through him, laughing all the way to the kitchen where Effie is waiting.

Dad and I scarfed down breakfast super fast. We didn’t eat a lot last night cause we were helping with all of the Baby Snakes. With the twins Cas and Lia around, it is kinda crazy when we all get together and Halloween is the worst. All the costumes and candy and magic. It is a lot, so Dad and I helped out like we did last year after Trace was born. It is really fun to watch them all get so excited about the silliest things, but it means that we spent a lot of time trying to get Thea to keep her headband on and not a lot of time eating dinner. There are five baby snakes now, and the twins are only a few months old. Dad and I had our hands full so we didn’t eat much. But Effie is so great, she made extra breakfast this morning for us.

After breakfast, Dad and I got changed and went flying around the grounds for almost an hour. We did a few laps of the manor before flying out over the gardens and towards the woods beyond. There is a lake between the gardens and woods with a small island in the middle. Dad and I call it Storybook Island and we have a fort that we built out of sticks, rocks, and blankets that Dad spelled to not get wet or fall down. The air is chilly, and the wind gets through my coat making my skin all tingly. It is worse when we fly, but totally worth it. I love the rush of the air when it goes past my face, though I hate when I accidentally catch bugs in my mouth, so I don’t talk much when I fly. 

Dad and I land at Storybook Island and we play princess and knight for a little while. He is silly, but it’s my favorite game. We read a story together once where a princess was being held by a dragon and she waited until her prince came to rescue her. Dad got weirdly serious and told me that I always needed to be able to save myself, even though he would come and rescue me, so we don’t play princess and knight the way that most people do. Instead, today the knight got tackled by the manticore who was really hungry. I grabbed the big sword and threw it away, cause the manticore was scared of it. I talked to the manticore and went on a big adventure to find its favorite food, purple flowers, on the other side of the island. When I got back, the knight and the manticore and me all had a tea party with tea made from the special purple flowers. Dad and I both had grass all over our hair, which turns our hair green in stripes. My flying clothes are all stained and I have purple dust all over my shoes from the flowers, but the flowers are super pretty so I don’t care. Dad grabs a handful of them and puts one behind my ear, holding back my braid. 

When the manticore has to go back home to his family, Dad conjures a big picnic blanket and we lay on it, finding shapes in the clouds in the sky. I find a bunny with a super fluffy tail and Dad finds a castle. He says that it is like Hogwarts and his eyes get a little far away. He does that sometimes, goes far away. He tries not to be around me, but he gets sad and then he has to build his own walls in his mind before he talks to me too. 

“Dad, what are you doing at work this week?” Dad tells me everything, all the time. It is super important to tell each other what we do and Dad wants me to be prepared. He catches bad wizards, but there are a lot still out there, so Dad tells me about them to make sure that I am educated.

“Remember the werewolf that I was tracking down last week?” He is still laying down with his eyes closed. 

“Of course I do. You caught him on Friday with Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter is the famous lion with the funky scar.” Dad chuckles at that.

“Well, my people at work have been asking him questions, but he is not answering them. I have to go and talk to him, to see if he will answer my questions. Then, I don’t know what I am doing the rest of the week, but you will be the first person I tell.” He bops my nose with his finger. 

“But, if the werewolf isn’t answering other people’s questions, why would he answer you?”

“Well, sweetheart, I do two things that other people don’t do. First, I learn what is important to him so I can use that to manipulate him. Just like Aunt Pans tells you about talking to some snakes. Second, I act however I need to to make him confused. When people are confused, they talk a lot more. Sometimes I have to be mean, other times I get to be really nice. I think that this guy will need me to be mean.”

“Okay I guess. Don’t be too mean, even though he is a bad guy. Oh, I have an idea. Maybe you should see if he has a favorite toy. You could give it back to him if he answers your questions. I know that I would talk to someone if they took Bruce and wouldn’t give him back until I talked to them.” Dad sits up a little fast and then leans over to kiss my forehead. He stands up and grabs my hands, pulling me up so that we are both standing.

“You, my darling, are so smart. I will have to try that tomorrow, but for now, we need to go get ready for tonight. You are always beautiful, but you have a lot of grass in your hair and we can’t go where we are going if we look like this. Though, I think that your Aunt Luna would say that we look very adventurous.”

We hop back on our brooms, flying back to the house. We race, but Dad beats me. His broom is the fastest ever, it’s a Firebolt. I can get one when I’m older, but I just have a Nimbus 2001 for right now. Jokes on Dad though, cause I beat him inside the Manor. He doesn’t run as fast as me, even though he is really tall. 

“Dad, are you finally going to tell me where we are going? I don’t know what to wear for tonight and Aunt Pans will be sad if I don’t wear something fancy enough.”

“Have I ever told you that I am magic, my light?” We both laugh the whole way up the stairs.

“Dad, be serious. What should I wear?”

“Go and check your room darling. Your superpower works most of the time, but not today.” 

I run to my room, flinging the door open as fast as I can without letting it hit the wall. Effie got mad at me cause I accidentally put a hole in the wall one time. Inside, on the middle of my bed next to Bruce, who stands like a proud bodyguard, is a pretty new dress and shoes. I have never seen this dress before, but I love it. The dress is a rich, dark, purple that looks like the sky right before the sun completely disappears. It has a white design on it, the shape of a fierce dragon blowing fire into the air. The shoes are black and Aunt Pans calls them combat boots. They have a little bit of a heel in the back and they are tall with long, black laces. Uncle Theo was talking about them one night after he got back from the United States and, after she saw pictures, Aunt Pans decided that she needed to add them to her clothing line. I have been asking her about getting my own pair for months and now they are sitting here on my bed. 

I get dressed fast so I am almost ready before I figure out what to do with my hair. “Effie!” 

“Little Mistress called? Do you need Effie’s help?” She flaps her ear once, a small smile pulling across her face. Her big eyes look at my dress and her smile gets even bigger at the dragon now dancing across my dress. 

“Can you do my hair? Dad is keeping tonight a secret so I want to keep my hair a secret.”

Effie flaps her ears two more times and then snaps her fingers. My stool under my dresser slides out and I sit down, throwing my braid over my shoulder so Effie can start playing with my hair. The stepstool that Effie uses to reach my head also floats behind me and she steps up, gently pulling my hair out of its hold. She runs a brush through it a few times, to smooth it out before taking strands and twining them around my head like a crown. Dad says that I look grown up when I wear my hair like this.

“Effie, do you think that I will look old all dressed up tonight? That makes Dad sad and I don’t want to ruin our night.” Her fingers stop for just a second, and then she continues pulling and prodding.

“Oh Little Mistress. Master Draco does not want to see his Little Mistress grow up, but it is okay to look old. Master Draco will think that you are beautiful and he will be happy to see you all dressed up. Master Draco used to like to dress up in fancy clothes with Mistress Narcissa. This will make Master Draco very excited.” She taps my shoulder, the signal that she is done with my hair. I hop down off of the stool and do a spin. Effie has a of couple tears in her eyes, but she doesn’t cry. Instead, Effie just hugs me and sends me downstairs.

Dad is at the bottom of the staircase dressed in a black tuxedo, the fancy suits with all the extra things like vests and a weird, stiff shirt piece. He only wears this kind of suit when he wants to be super fancy. He must hear my steps cause he looks up at me when I start walking down the stairs. His eyes get watery, just like Effie’s, and then he is on the stairs coming up towards me. He picks me up as soon as he gets to me and spins me around. 

“Dad, I can walk by myself you know.”

“I know that you can, but princesses should not have to walk all by themselves. Especially when they look so beautiful.” He kisses my cheek and puts me down at the bottom of the stairs, in the lounge. “May I see a full spin in the dress, my light?”

I step back away from Dad so my skirt has more room to fly and spin three times. The dragon flies in the same direction and curls around my dress a few times before settling back on the front of the dress. I didn’t see it earlier, but Dad has a box in his hands with a little bow on it. A present. He got me a present for tonight. It really is a special day.

I open my mouth, about to ask where we are going but Dad cuts me off. “Before you ask where we are going, I am not going to tell you until we get there. I told you already, it is a surprise.”

“No fair. Who is that box for?” My arms are crossed across my chest, but Dad doesn’t fall for my fake pouting. He never does. I think that is his superpower. Well, that and catching bad wizards and witches.

“I have a special present for my princess, but only if she doesn’t ask where we are going again.” My eyebrows raise at that. Why is he being so secretive? We don’t go many places and the only place that is fancy enough for these clothes is Uncle Z’s house in Italy, but Uncle Z would have told me if we were going there. Maybe Uncle Theo got a new house somewhere fancy and we are going there. I hope that we don’t have to speak a different language. I can’t remember a lot of the French that I am learning, but I could do Italian if I needed to. 

“Fine. I won’t ask anymore, but I am mad at you for keeping it a secret.” He laughs, cause he knows I’m not serious. “Can I open my present now?”

“I had hoped that you would.”

I grab the box. It is velvet and a little bit bigger than my hand. Around the middle of the box, there is a line of gold that is split in the center. It’s a jewelry box! I saw Aunt Lu give one to Thea for Christmas last year. The bow snaps off pretty easily and I pry the lid of the box open slowly, so I don’t break anything inside. 

There is a circular platform in the center of the bottom of the box that is raised higher than the rest of the box. Around the circle is the most beautiful bracelet that I have ever seen. The bracelet is made up of glittering sapphires and diamonds. The clasp is nestled under a few small diamonds and the whole thing glitters like a star. I look up at Dad and he is watching me, probably watching my reactions to seeing how I really feel. “Dad, this is so pretty! Where did you find this?”

“I had it made for you, just for you. There is none other like it. Aunt Pansy helped me design it so she could match it to your outfits for any outings we go on. That is not why this is special though.”

“Why is it so special? Can I wear it tonight?” 

“This bracelet is so special because it is a portkey. You most certainly can wear it tonight, in fact, I need you to wear the bracelet in order to go where we are.” 

A portkey? So we are going somewhere far. But Dad didn’t tell me when it leaves and I don’t know if he has one in his tux. And he never makes portkeys out of stuff that I would wear. It’s always something weird like that old, smelly shoe, or the toy that Effie found in the attic.

“Dad, why is the bracelet a portkey? Is it taking us to the place that we are going to tonight? I don’t see anything that would be a portkey on you?”

“It is not a portkey that we should have to use tonight. We won’t need it to get where we are going, but I want you to have it on you in case of emergencies. Do you remember the houses that we sometimes visit in the summer? The ones that we haven’t told your Aunts and Uncles about yet?”

“The houses that only we can get in? The really small ones? Yeah, I remember.”

“Those are our safehouses. They are houses that we will go to if we ever need protection and we are not at the Manor. This bracelet will take you to one of the safehouses. We are going somewhere brand new tonight and it isn’t as safe as the Manor or any of your Aunts' and Uncles' houses. So, if I tell you that it is unsafe, or you feel something weird at all tonight, I want you to yell PORTUS as loud as you can. Your bracelet will take you to one of the houses and I will be following right behind.”

“That’s so cool! This is the best present ever. But why would we be unsafe? I always stay in the wards so the bad wizards don’t find me. They can’t get me in the wards, so I would never need to use my bracelet.”

Dad sighs, and some of the light in his eyes fades a little. “That is correct, Zoe. But I need you to be totally honest with me. Do you like staying in the warded properties? Do you want to go somewhere new?”

I could leave the wards? I hadn’t ever thought about it because I have so many places that I can go. But I was really sad when we couldn’t go and visit Uncle Theo and Aunt Lu in the United States. And Luc was telling me about how much fun he had at a store for toys in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago. I love my family and my home, but it is a bit boring. I don’t know very many people and I want to see more. But I don’t want Dad to feel sad.

Dad asked me to be honest, so here goes nothing. “I want to see the world, but I trust you, Dad. You would never hurt me and I love you. If you say that it isn’t safe, then I won’t go. I would like to see someplace new, though.”

I cringe, hoping that he isn’t mad or sad or frustrated, but when I look back at Dad, he is smiling at me, like I just gave him the correct answer. Then he just holds out his hand to me. “Then, let’s go and see the world, Zoe.”

I move so fast, practically tackling Dad instead of taking his hand and my dress gets all ruffled, which makes the dragon fly to the back. The dragon huffs a breath of fire and I laugh at it. It acts like Bruce does, all prickly on the outside but a huge softie on the inside, kinda like Dad. Dad grips my hand tight, like a gentleman, winks at me and we disapparate.

The sound is overwhelming. There is so much noise, so many people talking, animals calling to each other, and stores showing off their stuff. I can’t even recognize some of the noises that I hear, but I am too busy taking in everything that I see. Dad and I are off of the main road of cobblestone running through a tight street lined with various stores. It is later at night, so there are lanterns and balls of magic light dotting the whole street. People rush past us, on their way to various buildings. Most of the noise seems to be coming from the giant building with the brightest sign that I can see. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I kinda want to stay and look at the store, but Dad gives my hand a small tug and we start walking in the opposite direction. 

This side of the street is way less busy than the other side. The people are slower and it is quieter. The signs are easier to read, but they aren’t quite as bright. We walk past a few and stop in front of a pretty cursive sign in Italian, Paradiso. It’s Uncle Z’s new restaurant. He has been talking about it for the last few months. Dad brought me to Diagon Alley.

Dad must be able to tell that I figured everything out and he smiles down at me. “Was the surprise worth the wait, my light?”

My cheeks hurt from the stretch of my smile. I have asked about coming here a few times and Dad always said that it was too dangerous. I can’t believe that he brought me here, but he must be feeling good after catching that werewolf. My voice is kinda quiet so no one else can hear me, “This is the best day ever. Thanks, Dad. Love you.” 

Dad holds the door open for me and we walk inside. A nice man in a navy blue uniform with a fancy gold P where a pocket would go on his chest, takes our coats and doesn’t even bother talking to Dad before he takes us to a giant table in a room all by ourselves. There is a big window that is actually the wall of the room and I walk over to it immediately, looking at the street below. I am watching people walk on Diagon Alley, I am standing in Diagon Alley, I am eating in Diagon Alley. This is so cool. If we were alone, I would be jumping up and down and screaming how happy I am, but Malfoy’s are cool and collected when other people are around. We don’t show our emotions because they can be used against us. We must look the part and show that we are worthy of our name. Dad and Aunt Pans taught me that a long time ago. I try to remember every lesson I have ever had about how to act in public.

I didn’t even know that someone came in and brought me a goblet full of sparkling water. Dad brings it with him and stands next to me at the window, watching the people move from store to store. Some of them have so many bags that they look pretty silly. Aunt Pans would just shrink the bags, or banish them back home. Why don’t they do that? Someone should probably tell them.

“Zoe, our food is going to be here soon. Let’s sit down and eat and then we can stay and watch for a little while after if you want.” I turn around to face Dad. The sparkle is back in his eyes and I don’t think that he was watching the other people after all. We walk around the table and Dad pulls my chair out, pushing me back into the table after I sit down. He sits down, sipping from a glass of wine after swirling it. Uncle Theo told me that you swirl it so it tastes better, but I think that people just do it cause it looks fancy. Dad is really good at looking fancy.

In almost no time, another man in a blue suit walks in, four silver trays covered in our favorite Italian dishes floating behind him. He directs them towards the table. “Compliments from the chef. If you need anything else, feel free to send gold sparks toward the door. Enjoy your meal.” He bows his head and leaves, closing the door behind him.

The food is so good. Uncle Z and Turm make these dishes all the time. Osso buco for Dad and arancini for me. I try to think through every fork I use, making sure that I use the right one just in case someone comes in. No one does, but it is good to be prepared and to practice. Dad finishes before me and sits across from me leaning back in his chair. He is comfy and I love when he is so relaxed. I didn’t believe that he would be able to relax if we ever left the wards, but he is and that means that we are safe. 

“Dad, may I be excused from the table?”

“Zoe, you know that you didn’t have to use your public manners here right? But, yes, you may be excused.”

“I know that, Dad. But Aunt Pans always says that manners are important, especially cause Malfoy is a powerful name. We have to be powerful too. It was just in case. Do you want to come and watch with me?”

Dad shakes his head at me, but he waves his hand, and the chairs that we had just stood from float over to the window. Perfect spots to watch the people out in the Alley. And close enough that we hold hands while we watch.

There is an older lady who can’t walk very fast. She is holding the hands of a little boy who has the coolest hair I have ever seen. It changed from black to bright blondes, like mine and Dad’s, and then to brown while they walked. Then, there is a tall man. He has broad shoulders and is carrying two different plants. I have never seen plants like these, but they look like they are trying to bite the man. At least he is wearing super big gloves. 

The people that I watch are a group of four people: a man with bright red hair and a strap that holds his wand across his chest, a woman with curly reddish-blonde hair who is carrying a bunch of bags, and two boys with the same bright red hair as the older man. They have walked by a couple of times, but they come right up next to the window that we are looking out of. Dad sucks in a real deep breath, but I shush him cause I want to hear what they are saying. No one has come close enough to hear yet, but I don’t think that these people have seen the sign for the building. I bet the window doesn’t look like a window either.

“It is not happening Lav! We have to go and visit her parent’s house that night. I promised her that we would go weeks ago and I can’t make an excuse to get out of this one. She is already mad that I will be gone next month. Not to mention the fact that I have seen you so often that we have rescheduled twice already.” The red-haired man sounds like Uncle Z does when he has asked Luc to do something a bunch of times and Luc still hasn’t done it.

“It would mean a lot to him. He already sees very little of you and I do not want to have to explain why his dad can’t come to his party. Tell your little wife whatever you have to.” The curly-haired lady, Lav, says wife like it is a bad word. There is something in her voice that I don’t like. It sounds mean and the man really doesn’t like it either.

“I can’t leave her, Lav. Not yet. It just isn’t the right time. Soon. And as for Carson --” He is cut off by the boys running between the two adults. The littlest boy tugs on the man’s coat sleeve.

“Come on, Daddy. I want ice cream!” The boy is so whiny. That isn’t how one should ask for things, or how someone should speak to their parents in public. This kid should know that. Every kid should. Dad would be super mad if I whined like that, even at home. These adults don’t seem to mind, though. Instead, the man just pries the boy’s hand off of his coat and nods. The boys jump up and down, screaming like crazy and they tug the two adults away from the window.

“Well, that wasn’t very polite. What do you think, Dad?” I look at Dad, but he has gone really pale. His skin feels sweaty and I don’t like it. “What’s wrong? I mean, they were really rude, but they didn’t see us, did they?”

“No, my light, they didn’t see us. Sweetheart, do you remember who I work with?”

I run through a list in my brain of all of the people that Dad works with. “You work with Mr. Potter, the lion who comes to our house a lot. Miss Granger is the boss of everyone and she is really smart like me. Mr. Shacklebolt has meetings with you. Ms. Selwyn helps write stuff down for you in the front of the office. And Mr. Weasel is bad at his job so you have to help him a lot, even though he doesn’t like you.”

“That man, out there, was Mr. Weasel. His name is Ron Weasley.” Dad is still really white, but he isn’t as sweaty anymore.

“But that can’t be right, Dad. Because Ron Weasley, Mr. Weasel, is Miss Granger’s husband. Husbands don’t have kids with people that aren’t their wives and those boys called him Dad.” 

“They aren’t supposed to, but it is possible for husbands to have kids with other women. Those men aren’t good husbands.”

“Do you think that Miss Granger knows about them? We should tell her. I wouldn’t want that man to be my husband. He seems kinda mean.” Dad laughs, but it isn’t a nice laugh. Instead, it is kinda scary and short. He shakes his head and squeezes my hand a bit.

“He is mean. He is a lion, like Mr. Potter, but he isn’t a very nice lion. I don’t know if we should tell Miss Granger. This is a pretty bad situation, Zoe. I will handle it, but for right now, we aren’t going to tell Miss Granger anything. Do you understand?” He looks so serious. Dad likes Miss Granger. I don’t think that he knows that I know, but I do. He looks at her all gooey-eyed. Uncle Theo and I talk about it a lot.

“I understand, Dad. But you have to promise to tell her soon.” Dad opens his mouth to tell me, no, but I figure that my superpower should work again soon. “Please, Dad. Wouldn’t you want someone to tell you? I think that I would.”

He sighs again and just says, “Okay, my light. I promise. Are you ready to go?”

I nod and we head out of the door. There are a lot more people in the restaurant than there were when we got here, but they don’t look at us as we leave. We get our coats from the same man at the front and Dad holds the door for me again. 

“Dad, can we walk around the Alley for a few minutes? I just want to see what it looks like.” A sad look falls on Dad’s face, but it is gone in a blink and then he is smiling at me again, holding out his arm to escort me. 

“I would love to show you, sweetheart. Let’s go explore for a bit, shall we, Your Majesty?”

I grab his arm, giggling and Dad starts walking back towards the noisy end of the street. He starts talking to me, telling me the names of the stores that we pass and stories about times that he went to each one with Nana Cissa, or Uncle Theo and Uncle Z. I feel like I am in a dream and I never want it to end. We are walking past a bookshop that Dad promises we can visit another day when it is open when something wet hits my face.

“Get out of our fucking alley, Death Eater!” 

A short, bearded man stands in front of us, his wand out, and pointed at Dad. He looks dirty like he has been playing out in the sun all day. Dad is suddenly pulling me into his side, crushing me a little.

“We just want to go to the end of the Alley. Though I feel compelled to point out the fact that spitting at a Ministry official could be considered a threat.” Dad is using his scary voice. He calls it his “Lucius” voice, like my grandfather’s name. I hate when he uses this voice. It is cold and not like the voice he uses with me. It makes people afraid of him, and a few people next to us start looking our way. I keep my chin high like Aunt Pans says to do and stare them each in the eye, making sure that I look brave, even if I don’t feel like it.

“I don’t move for murderers, you black-bellied coward. Leave, or maybe I’ll hex the girl instead of you. She seems like your kind of target, innocent and unarmed.” His wand moves and points at me now. Dad goes stiff all over and he starts talking in my mind. 

I will protect you, Zoe. We are going home. Hold tight to my arm, my light.

We don’t talk like that a lot, so I know that it is serious and I grip Dad’s arm as tight as I can. Dad growls at the man in front of us, wiping what looks like spit off of his shoulder and flinging it at the man before colors shift and we disapparate back to the Manor.

I am crying when we get home. My whole body is shaking and my ears are ringing. Murder means killing people. Why did they say Dad killed people? He doesn’t kill people, Dad saves people. Dad isn’t a Death Eater, he hunts Death Eaters. That man pointed his wand at me. He wanted to hurt me. Dad’s hands are on my shoulders and he is on his knees in front of me, checking my whole body to make sure that I don’t have any scrapes. 

“Why did he say those things, Dad? Is that why I can’t leave the wards?” My voice is quiet and shaky. Tears are running down my face and my hands are trembling at my side.

Dad starts to say something, then shakes his head and starts over, “Zoe, this is going to be a long conversation. I promise to answer all of your questions, but I don’t want to do this while you are still dressed up. How about you go upstairs, take a bath, get in your pjs, and then I will answer any questions that you have about that man? Is that alright, my light?”

Dad’s eyes are begging me like mine do when I use my superpower. I really want him to answer now, but I can wait. Dad always keeps his promises and my dress is getting really itchy.

“Okay. Can you make hot cocoa if it’s gonna be a long talk? And grab my blanket?”

“As you wish, princess.” Dad kisses my forehead, wiping away my tears with his thumbs and brushing away a few strands of hair from my face. I hug his neck, squeezing tight, and then head upstairs to get ready for answers.

Chapter Text

Draco

November 1, 2007

I drag a hand over my face and through my hair. I don’t have any idea who that man was, but I will find him and track him down. He will know the meaning of terror when I am through with him. He pointed his wand at her, and threatened her in front of me. He could have hurt or killed her. And, to top it all off, he spat at me and some of it got on her. I was so angry that I saw red, but then I felt her shift against my leg. I saw that wand aimed towards her and felt her shaking. I knew that she was terrified, so I did the only thing I could with so many people around. I disapparated.

Why did she have to be so smart? She was crying and clearly confused, but she spent the time it took for me to collect myself piecing together everything that she learned. The look on her face when she asked about what was said. That face will haunt my nightmares for the foreseeable future. 

I had hoped to keep this conversation from happening for at least a few more years. I wanted to give her more time. More time before the pride in her eyes died. Before she realized that the Malfoy name was not a badge of honor, but instead a mark of shame. I thought I had a little more time before I would have to see the disgust in her eyes when she discovered what that Mark means, why I covered it with tattoos, and why she only ever slept on my right arm. 

My knees are aching when I finally stand and go to my room. I was so excited when we left to take her to Diagon Alley for the first time. I couldn’t wait to take her out for a formal evening. The spark in her eyes as she took in the sights and sounds of that place made me feel invincible. Her joy at simply watching people she didn’t know to wander around the street was the icing on the cake, making my heart soar. Now, the tuxedo I am wearing is constrictive, making my movements feel stiff and my lungs catch. I practically rip the offending pieces of clothing off of my body, desperate to get out of them, to remove the stain of tonight as if it will make any of this easier. My heart feels like a deflated balloon at the bottom of my chest, any happiness from tonight stripped away.

When I am finally in some black sweatpants and a t-shirt from a Muggle band that Theo has tried pushing on me for several years (Falling Out Boy, I believe). I walk downstairs, and head to the library, knowing that she will head here when she is ready to talk. She has claimed this room as her favorite in the Manor and she comes here whenever she is upset. I sit on the dark leather couch by the fireplace, starting the roaring flames, and summon a mug of hot cocoa and a glass of firewhiskey. The whiskey burns its way down my throat, but I can’t occlude, not now. She deserves more than that, better than that.

It doesn’t take long before I hear her footsteps pounding down the stairs and heading towards the library. She bursts through the double doors, a determined look on her face as she marches over to the couch I am occupying. She wastes no time snuggling into my side and reaching for the mug that I got for her. I don’t make her wait long, handing it over quickly. She takes a couple of sips while I summon her blanket from the reading nook that she claimed a few years back. It flies through the library stacks and lands, gently, across her lap. She looks up at me, eyes wide and curious, but so filled with love that it almost makes me cry. 

She has changed into her pajamas with flittering, golden snitches all over and she has her niffler slippers on, toes tucked in tight. Her hair has been taken out of the crown that it was in for dinner and now it falls over her shoulders in light waves. 

“Dad, can we talk now? I have been very patient.”

No time like the present, I guess. I take a few deep breaths, rubbing small circles into her back with my free hand, more as a way to calm myself than to comfort her, though I know that it has both effects. “Well, sweetheart, before we start, I need you to promise me something. Can you do that?”

“Whatever you need, Dad. I just want to know what happened.” She is so sincere and my heart breaks, knowing that I am about to destroy her.

“I need you to wait and ask questions until the very end of my story. Alright?”

She nods her head vigorously. And I try to collect my thoughts and determine where I should start. I figure that I should start at the very beginning. She deserves to know the truth and the whole truth. I can’t, no I won’t hold anything back. 

“This is a story about a little boy who just wanted to make his Dad proud. When I was a child, my dad was not very nice. He hurt me if I did not behave well and he did not play with me as we do. But I wanted to make him very happy. I tried to do everything that I could to make him happy. I practiced my manners a lot. I read every book that I could. I learned how to fly very well. I also tried to act like him, so that I could be better.”

Even calling him my father feels like a lie. It tastes like ash in my mouth, but I push forward, knowing that she wouldn’t understand otherwise. I can do this , I repeat to myself.

“I thought that I was special because of our name. I was taught that the Malfoy name meant that we were better than everyone, not just that we were powerful. So, when I went away to school, I was a bit of a mean person. I acted like I was a prince and only some people went along with it. That is why Mr. Potter, the lion, and I did not get along very well. I was also a little mean to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasel, though Mr. Weasel usually deserved it.”

I told her story after story of those first four years of school. The dragon. The Forbidden Forest. The Chamber of Secrets and everyone believing me to be the Heir of Slytherin. Of discovering the creature inside and telling Granger in whatever way I could. I talked about the black dog that I had befriended on the Hogwarts ground in my third year, who never returned, simply because I needed another friend. I told her about Lucius’ increased meetings with other bad men and harshness as we moved into fourth year and the events of the World Cup. I told her about the Triwizard Tournament and everything I did to make it more difficult for Potter and to keep Granger away from his danger. I told her about getting recruited for the Inquisitorial Squad by Umbridge, the utter toad of a woman. About how I helped the DA avoid our patrols for months. The meetings that Lucius constantly had at our home and other manor homes across the country. And then I told her about that battle at the Ministry, the one I had only heard vague details about, but the one that changed my life irreparably. 

“Vold . . . Voldemort was not a man, Zoe. He was a monster. He was so powerful that you could feel his magic when you were in a room with him. He experimented on his prisoners and followers alike. He delighted in causing pain to anyone who crossed his path. My mother, Nana Cissa, tried to keep me from him for a year, but my father failed him. My father failed him so profoundly that he wanted to punish him, and the entire Malfoy family. I came home one day, and he was there with a whole group of Death Eaters.”

Without even realizing what I was doing, I started rolling up the sleeve of the t-shirt I’m wearing, baring that Mark to her. “You asked me about this Mark before. I told you that it was a bad Mark, and that is true. This mark means that I worked for Voldemort, that I was a Death Eater. This is why that man called me a Death Eater today because I have this.”

My eyes flit to her own, expecting to see disgust or horror staring back at me. Instead, I am simply met with that same curious, inquisitive gaze that she always has, mixed with a sadness that she should never have to endure. I need to forge ahead, or I will never be able to tell the rest of this story without breaking and I promised myself that I would not break in front of her. I wrench my eyes from hers, allowing myself only a second to compose myself before continuing.

“Voldemort gave me an impossible job and told me that if I failed, he would kill me and Nana Cissa. Voldemort wanted me to kill a very powerful man, the best wizard in the world. Zoe, I promised to be honest so you need to believe me when I say that I never wanted to do it. I tried so hard to find ways to stop it from happening, but I was not a very strong boy. I was scared and alone and I did not want your Aunts or Uncles to get hurt trying to help me. And I had to protect Nana Cissa. I tried to kill the wizard and failed, but the wizard still died anyway and everyone believed that it was my fault.”

Tears spill onto my cheeks, running down my face in fat rivulets as I tell her about the war and the things I saw in our home, in the walls we now occupied. My heart feels like it is in a vice grip as I know that we are fast approaching a subject that she has never questioned, not once in her entire life: her mother.

“Voldemort was never done manipulating my life, so at Christmas that next year, he forced me to sign a contract with a young witch named Astoria Greengrass. He had made several other matches in pureblood families and we became the next one. We were magically married to one another and the terms of the contract were very detailed. We had to have a baby, and we had to actively try to have a baby until we had an heir to the Malfoy name. Only then, would we be free to choose whether we wished to remain married or break apart?”

Her eyes are wide now, intently focused on me. The mug of hot cocoa is forgotten in her lap and her fingers are absently playing with the detailing on the mug like she is anxious about something. Maybe I should stop, I should leave it here and not worry about telling her the rest. I could lie and just say that I forgot or that the memories are too painful. But I promised her the truth. I promised her I would let her choose her own path, and she can’t do that if she doesn’t know everything. So I will tell her all of it. She deserves that.

“Astoria didn’t want to have a baby. We were very young, and she did not like the reason that we were going to be having you. When we found out that she was pregnant with you, we were both summoned to countless meetings with Voldemort. He watched Astoria intently for the first few weeks and Astoria believed that he did something to the baby during the meetings. You were that baby, sweetheart. Voldemort was long gone by the time you were born, but Astoria could not believe that you had escaped his clutches. She tried to hurt you after you were born, so I did something. Something that I should not have done, but I do not regret doing.”

“What did you do, Dad?” Her first words this whole time. I had asked for no interruptions and she had been so patient, more patient than she had any right to be. She isn’t looking at me anymore. No, her eyes are on the one fraying corner of her blanket that she noticed yesterday, but forgot to tell Effie to fix. She is studying it like it holds the answers to the rest of her questions that I know lay unspoken in her racing mind.

“I made you, a girl, the heir to the Malfoy name. You are the only female heir in the entire history of the Malfoy family. If other pureblood families knew about what I had done, you would be hunted and scorned more than you are because of what I did in the war. I am so sorry for that, Zoe. You were right to believe that I haven’t taken you out of the wards because of people like that. My job, as your dad, is to keep you safe forever, just like Bruce. But, there are a lot of people that don’t like you and it is not your fault.”

“Can I ask a question now?” Her voice is so timid, so quiet that it is barely audible over the crackle of the fire, but I catch the faint whisper and nod. “Why do you teach me magic?”

The question sends me reeling. Of all of the questions that she could have asked, she asked about magic. Did she not want to know anything else? 

“I teach you magic because you can do it and because I want you to be able to protect yourself, even if I will help you, just like the princess in our game.”

She nods, her bright eyes more serious than they should be. She puts her mug down on the coffee table in front of us, barely reaching it with her small arms before she sits back down on her heels, gripping the damaged end of the blanket. Her fingers twine through the separating fabric for a few seconds and I can practically see her brain combing through all the stories that I told her, piecing together everything. 

My heart is poised on a knife’s edge, waiting for the final blow. Waiting for her to look me in my eyes and say that she is terrified of me, that I am a monster, that I am too broken to deserve her. I have told myself that enough times over the years that I hope it will soften the blow when she does land it.

I must have been staring into space, ignoring the little witch at my side because I was so deep in thought. How long I spent staring, I am not sure, but I am brought back to the conversation by a small tug on my arm. I whip my head back to hers and she is reaching out for my other arm, my left arm, my cursed arm, my damned arm. She runs her fingers over the Mark almost reverently before she kisses the center of that ugly skull and then looks up at me.

“You always kiss away my ouchies. I don’t know if it will help, but I want to try.”

More tears spill over onto my face, but she forges ahead, a girl on a mission. A fierce warrior approaching her foe. She was patient with me, so I can be patient with her. I stay silent as she leans back and tucks herself into my side, so I can’t see her face. I just sit still, trying not to disturb any sense of calm that she found.

“Dragons are my favorite animal because everyone thinks that they are scary. But dragons aren’t really bad. They can hurt people, but they don’t try to. People are just scared of them, cause they could maybe get hurt one day. Aunt Lu told me a secret, that you are a dragon in disguise. I think that she was right, but I’m not scared because you won’t hurt me. You protect me. I love you, Dad.”

She twists again, looking up at me through her long, blonde lashes. The sadness still lingers in her eyes, but no disgust or hatred can be found. In fact, she looks almost determined. As if she can somehow force the world to see me the way that she sees me. I grip her face tightly in my hands and kiss her forehead before tucking her into a crushing hug. I don’t let go, her presence anchoring me to this blessed moment. 

“I love you so much, Zoe. You are my light and my salvation and I love you.”

We sit on that couch, just holding onto each other for a long while before her breathing evens out and I know that the exhaustion she tried to hide and fight has finally taken hold. Gently, I readjust her body and push off the couch, heading to my room. My shoulders feel light, for the first time in a long time. Her snoring is a symphony, proving that she felt safe enough with me still to fall asleep in my arms. How did I get so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve someone as pure as her? I could make a Patronus that would ward off a hundred dementors with the memories of this moment.

When I get upstairs, I lay her down on my bed and she immediately reaches out for my body, to snuggle. Once I get myself situated, I tuck her into my side tightly, rubbing her back in slow circles. Sleep comes to claim me soon after, and I sleep peacefully, worries for the future floating away on swift winds.

November 5, 2007

The last few days felt like a blur. I got the werewolf to confess to a few victims that we hadn’t been able to identify, but unfortunately, he was working alone. No connection to the Lestrange’s or Dolohov. Our leads were drying up pretty rapidly, which made work a slog of paperwork, pouring over maps, and arguing with Potter about his inane theories as to which Death Eaters might be actively recruiting and where they were hiding.

Home wasn’t much better. Though a lot of my worries about Zoe’s feelings about my past had been assuaged, I couldn’t help but over-analyze every reaction she gave me, double-checking each interaction for hesitancy or fear. Pansy had nearly bit my head off when Zoe told her about our conversation after asking if anyone else had the Dark Mark. Luna just looked at me with an all-too-knowing stare when I dropped her off at the Nott manor. In other words, I had no true reprieve except for the few hours at night when Zoe and I would scramble for some sense of normalcy. Reading together in the library, playing princess and knight on our island, watching Frank chase the other peacocks around the garden. 

“Oi, Malfoy!” Potter’s gruff voice in my ear tethers me back to the office. Shit. My occlumency shields have been more like walls of sand, constantly falling over or crumbling at the slightest hint of a memory. I have found myself drifting off far more than usual since that conversation with Zoe, but I didn’t realize that it was happening to the point where other people could notice.

“What do you want, Potter? I have been staring at these maps all day and I have no idea where the next hideout might be. My leads are out and I won’t be able to find anything else until you clear me to go and check on some of my contacts.” There is so much strain in my voice, but Potter just lowers his head and glances at me with raised eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been trying to get your attention for about two minutes now. If you were listening when I first told you, you would know that we got a tip on a warehouse and we are moving out in an hour. Get ready.” His eyes are like steel. In the three years that we have worked together, I have found that he always looks like that before we go out on a raid or mission like he is unbreakable. Whether it is a coping mechanism or his own form of occlumency, I have never wanted to pry enough to find out. Regardless, I know it must be serious, if I couldn’t tell by the look in his eyes, I would know by the frantic way that Aurors are running around the bullpen.

“My team?”

Potter doesn’t miss a beat. “All hands on deck. Get 'em up to speed. The tip information is on the map now, marked by the yellow pin. Debrief in 45 minutes outside the conference room. She wanted to make sure I told you personally.” 

I’ll have to unpack that later. Now, I need to focus and get ready for the raid. I stand from my chair at the small desk that has been mine for the last three years, my legs screaming from being stationary for so long. My head peers over the tops of the walls of the cubicles and I scan the room for the two trainees that have been assigned to the Dark Wizards Task Force, directly under me. “Lockwood. Dangborn. Let’s move it!” 

My voice is strong and assured, confident despite my earlier lack of attention. The two trainees are at my side in the blink of an eye. I was wary when Potter and Granger took me aside to tell me that I was going to be getting my own team. In fact, I had outright refused both of them until Granger cornered me in the office and verbally sparred with me for hours, refusing to leave until I had agreed to take them on. Most of the Aurors still looked at me with hatred burning in their eyes, fueled by one particular Weasel who never failed to point out any failures that he believed I had. Luckily, the other two lions had the foresight to give me two rookies, trainees who did not have the same colored past with me as the rest of the force.

Wesley Lockwood is an average-sized man with close-cropped, caramel-colored hair and bright, hazel eyes. His body is toned from years of playing as a Ravenclaw Chaser, never truly losing his Quidditch shape. He is incredibly inquisitive and has been invaluable as the out-of-the-box thinker that has tracked down more than a few sources for us to utilize.

The other side of my team is Patricia Dangborn, though call her Patricia at your own risk. Rickie is the fire to the otherwise calm and collected team that I had hoped to create. She has long, dark black hair that falls straight to the middle of her shoulder blades. Her eyes are a dark blue that looks purple in the right light and she practically jumps with nervous energy at all times. When she first started, I nearly begged for Granger to take her back or reassign her, but she proved herself on our first mission together, watching my back and taking out an attacker that neither Lockwood nor I had seen. Not to mention, she was a monster in an interrogation room and stood second only to me in the number of suspects she had managed to crack.

The three of us had become an unstoppable force, and we have quickly risen in the ranks to one of the most successful teams in the entire department. Not that we get credit for that accomplishment.

“What’s up boss? Got something good for us.” Rickie practically bounces with excitement, as if she can sense the mission we are about to undertake.

“Information is on the map. Familiarize yourself with the location and details of the raid. We will be an advance strike team, so be prepared. I don’t want any more magic use until we get to the location. No core burnouts today, do you understand?”

Two curt nods from my team and then they are pouring over the information, soaking it in like sponges.

“Questions?” I always offer them that courtesy. That is our deal. No compartmentalization, no secrets, no lies. Everything is in the open as long as you ask. It keeps us honest and builds trust, at least I hope that is what it does.

Lockwood shakes his head, but Rickie shoots her hand up in the air like she is hoping to get picked on by a professor, a wolfish grin stretching across her face. 

“Yes, Dangborn.” My tone is bored, almost annoyed, but it doesn’t deter her in the slightest.

“How badly should we show up the little Weasel and his team?”

That same wolfish grin appears on Lockwood’s face and I can feel it mirrored on my own face. Merlin, these two are going to be the death of me, but I will never discourage a little friendly competition.

“Do your job and do it well. Then we will see what he has to say about it. Understood?”

“Yes, boss!” Their voices echo in unison, voices never wavering.

The next few hours are a blur of conversations and duels. I don’t remember much of the debrief or even the fight. The raid was relatively successful, resulting in the capture of two Death Eater sympathizers, DESs for short. As far as I know, we didn’t lose a single Auror. Granger sat this raid out, but she had sent five field healers to assess the damage and clear everyone to leave. She started doing that a while ago, making sure that the healers gave everyone a once-over before either shipping us off to St. Mungos or back home. 

I took a few curses, but mostly minor stuff that I could see. There were a few cuts on my arms and one on my side that was bleeding a bit, but nothing major. My shirt is sticky with blood, but that was nothing new for a raid. I had performed a few counter-curses on myself and I insisted that Lockwood and Rickie get seen before the healer even touched me. Lockwood jumped in from of a nasty burning curse and the counter-curse only does so much. Luckily, he could walk away and the healer sent him to St. Mungos to get a cream to cover the burns before turning to me. While I waited for my team to be cleared, I started the process of dropping my mental shields. My head is already pounding with the intense use of magic, but I can’t just drop the shields, or risk being incapacitated by the sheer flood of memories that will overwhelm me. No, instead I just have to push through the headache until I am able to get home and rest. Before I can get much work done, my trainees are both cleared and the healer turns to me, a scowl on her face.

Healer Goldstein, her married name, hated me. I knew it from the first time we met. There is only so much one can do to try and disguise their feelings towards me, but she never bothered to shelter her emotions. No, she wore them like armor whenever I was around, as a warning sign or a challenge I could never decide. I did not balk under her cool gaze as I walked up to her, allowing her wand to light up the air around me with a diagnostic charm. 

My headache is getting worse and I couldn’t work to take down my shields while she was working on me, so I just grit my teeth and hope that she finishes quickly. It didn’t seem worth mentioning, but I was getting so fatigued. The world was swaying slightly as I worked to stay upright under her scrutiny. If something was wrong, she would find it. If not, I was likely just tired from the strain of the week and the intense magic use of the last few hours. It was nothing that a few hours of good sleep wouldn’t cure. Zoe would understand if I went straight to bed after getting home, but I would still check on her. She’d likely be in the library and I could apparate there before going to bed. Yes, that would be a good idea. Then I could tell Potter that he could fuck right off and she and I could have a play day tomorrow. I haven’t skived off work in a long time and they wouldn’t need me for many tomorrows anyways.

Goldstein clears her throat, her face a little paler than it was when she began her assessment. At least, I think it looks paler. The world is starting to blur at the edges. Merlin, I need to get to bed. I am exhausted. The fire is still burning her eyes as she stares me down and simply says, “You’re good to go home, Malfoy.” She spits my name out like a curse and nearly spats on me before walking away to tend to the next Auror in her line of sight.

Given the all-clear, I don’t think twice before summoning my magic to me and apparating home. My vision is swimming by the time I land in the library, but I don’t have enough energy to land on my feet. I crumple to the floor, pain exploding from my side, my back. More blood slides down my back to the floor. Vaguely I realize that I don’t remember feeling this much blood at the scene. My head pounds and I try to stand, but every muscle in my body screams in protest. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. My heart is beating so erratic that I know something is wrong. All I see are shapes and colors, but I cry out, cursing myself for making her see this. “Zoe.”

The word leaves my tongue and the blackness in the back of my mind swallows me up, pulling me under. The last thing I see is a small figure running toward me and I give in to the pain threatening to pull me under. The world fades and I let it all fall away, hoping that she knows I love her.

Chapter Text

Zowena

November 5, 2007

Dad had sent Uncle Theo a message that said he was going to be home late. Another raid tonight. So, after I had dinner with all of the Notts, helping Aunt Lu with Cas and Lia, I flooed home by myself and headed straight for the library. I was only five chapters away from finishing my Hunting Prince Dracula and I wanted to see Dad before I went to bed. In his message to Uncle Theo, he had told me to go to bed because he was going to be gone for a while, but I wanted to talk to him before I went to sleep. Ever since he told me about Voldemort and the Mark, he had been sad and shy around me. It was scary and I hated all those bad men who did those things to Dad, but I didn’t hate Dad. I could never hate Dad. He is my best friend and nothing he could tell me would ever change that.

Effie brought me a glass of apple cider. She stared at me, hard, as if she knew about Dad’s message, but I just took the mug and settled into the dark, leather couch in front of the fireplace, wrapped in my constellation blanket. I had been reading for a long time, only six pages away from the end of the book when the noisy crack of apparition echoes through the cavernous library. That’s weird. Dad is usually quiet when he apparates unless he is super tired. I guess it has been a long day. He should go to bed.

My bookmark is on the opposite side of the couch, so I scramble to grab it and shove it into my book. Once my book is taken care of, I practically throw the blanket off of me, jumping up to catch Dad in a hug. It had been a long day without him and we didn’t get to talk much before he left for work.

My eyes leave the mug in my hands and I look up just in time to see Dad crumple to the floor, a pool of blood underneath him stretching across his back and running down his legs. His face is pale, stark white. Each of his arms are limp and he can barely lift his head. He blinks slowly as if he just woke up from a long nap, and I can almost see the light fade from his eyes as he chokes out one word, “Zoe.”

The mug in my hands hits the floor and shatters immediately, but I hardly notice. All I can see is Dad. His face falls to the floor and I am moving so fast, blocking out all other sounds and thoughts. My blood rushes through my ears, roaring as I kneel in front of Dad, trying to find the source of the bleeding. There is so much blood. It’s everywhere. Why is there so much blood?

A choked noise leaves me and I am probably crying, but I need to be smart. I need to help. I need to fix this. Uncle Theo. He is a healer. What is it that Uncle Theo says about bleeding? You need to push hard on the bleeding place so that it will stop bleeding. Blood is supposed to stay in the body and it can be dangerous if someone loses a lot of it. I don’t know where Dad’s blood is coming from and Dad is wearing so many layers. I start ripping clothes off of Dad, not caring if I will get in trouble for ripping his shirts later. I just need to find where he is bleeding. I almost throw up when I finally get through to his skin. 

There is a large gash across his side. The ends of his skin are pulled away from each other, a sick shade of purple. I can see layers of muscle and skin in the gaping hole that is the wound. Merlin help me. I close my eyes, squinting as hard as I can, trying to build up my mental walls. My head hurts and there are tears in my eyes. It makes everything blurry, but I have to be able to see so I can help Dad. 

My hands are too small to use to try and push on the gash.  I need to get something to cover the wound and stop the blood, but everything is too far away. I need something that will catch his blood. Maybe then it will go back into his body and he will be okay. I can’t use a book, but I can use a blanket. Yes, I can use a blanket if I just get up and grab one. I shift a little, moving away from Dad, but he groans when my hands leave his body. Shit, I can’t leave him.

I still can’t summon things all the time, but I try as hard as I have ever tried to bring a blanket towards us. Breathe in, count to 10, breathe out. Focus, narrow your focus to the exact blanket you want. The dark blue one, with the stripes of black. It sits right next to the bookshelves. Imagine it coming to your hand. Breathe in, count to 10. Suddenly, the feel of the fabric is in my hands and I am shoving the blanket into the wound, wrapping it around Dad as tightly as I can.

Dad is still pale, and getting worse. His blood is all over the carpet, seeping into my slippers and pajamas, but I don’t care. I can’t fix this. It’s not working. I need help. Uncle Theo. Uncle Theo is a healer. He can fix Dad. But I can’t send him a Patronus. That is way too hard for me to learn. An owl will take too long. The only way I can get him fast is the floo. I squeeze Dad’s hand, but it doesn’t squeeze back and I whisper in his ear, my voice shaky, “I’ll be back with help. Please hold on Daddy.” And then, I am running.

I feel like a blur. I am running faster than I have ever run in my life, sprinting to the floo parlor and hoping that Uncle Theo hasn’t gone to bed yet. My breaths are ragged and I am so tired, but I need to get help. Dad needs me. So I keep running, straight past all of the mean portraits who are all looking at me with a mixture of expressions. My shoes are slippery and everything feels sticky and warm. I don’t look back at the mess I probably made in the hallway as I swing into the floo parlor room, holding onto the door frame to help me turn and I grip a large handful of floo powder. 

The flames have barely died down before I am screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming for Uncle Theo, Aunt Lu, anyone who can hear me. I hear thundering footsteps from another room down the hall and then Uncle Theo’s head is through a doorway. His eyes go wide when he sees me and I don’t know how I look, but it can’t be good. We are running toward each other on a collision course. Aunt Lu follows behind, eyes wary. I don’t see Thea and we put Lia and Cas to bed early. Hopefully, they don’t wake up and see me like this. I can’t make them scared. No, I need to fix Dad. We need to hurry. We need to run.

I finally catch Uncle Theo, barrelling into his chest hard, and I immediately pivot, gripping his hand tight in mine and trying to drag him back to the floo. My hand is slippery too and it keeps moving through Uncle Theo’s, but I hold on tight. We can’t waste any time. Dad might already be . . . No, Dad is going to be fine. Uncle Theo is going to fix him in time and he will be fine.

“Zoe. Whoa, Zowena, stop. You need to tell me what happened. Are you hurt? Where are you bleeding?” The sound of my full name makes me stop dead in my tracks. I must look really bad. Uncle Theo’s hands are strong and gripping my shoulder tightly, holding me back from running back to the floo. My heart is racing and my breathing is ragged.

I pant, trying to release the words locked in my throat, “Dad. Hurt. Help. Please. Hurry.”

Uncle Theo’s eyes flash with panic for just a second and then it is gone, his bright green eyes fixed on me. “Let’s go. Keep the kids here, Luna. I’ll send a Patronus.”

I am already running again, not daring to turn around and see if Uncle Theo is behind me. I need to get back to Dad. He needs me. He needs Uncle Theo. I have to make sure that he is okay. We reach the floo and Uncle Theo reaches the powder before I do, stepping into the fireplace with me. I grip his hand tight in mine, so tight that it hurts. The whoosh of the flames takes so long. As soon as the green dies down, I start pulling him to the library.

Dad is there, in the middle of the floor, the pool of blood around him much bigger than it was before I left. The blanket is covered in his blood, so dark that it looks completely black. Dad looks like a ghost, with no trace of color left on his cheeks. Uncle Theo doesn’t pause, instead, he just runs back to Dad, staring down at the injury. I follow him, falling back to the floor and gripping Dad’s hand in mine, squeezing it again. It feels cold and he doesn’t return my squeeze. I brush a few strands of hair from his face. It is cold too. He doesn’t even make a noise, just lays there, unmoving.

Uncle Theo’s voice is strained, nervous, pained. “Effie! Effie!”

“Mister Theo, how can I . . . Master Draco. What happened? Master Draco.” Effie’s eyes are watery, brimming with tears. Her ears are drooping and she is staring at Uncle Theo with panic in her expression.

“Effie, I need as many blood-replenishing potions as you have. Now!” She doesn’t ask questions, just pops away and is back within a few seconds. She has five vials of a dark green potion from Dad’s stores in her arms. She drops them at Uncle Theo’s feet as he peels back the blankets covering Dad’s wound. “Shit!” He looks over at Effie, but she is shaking so much. Her ears are flapping like crazy. I have never seen her ears do that. I am brought back to Dad when Uncle Theo yells, “Zoe, I am going to need some help. You need to follow my instructions. Can you do that?”

I nod, not daring to say anything so Uncle Theo can give me instructions fast. 

“Good girl. I need you to get your Dad to drink this when I say. Come by his head.” I move, my knees wet from the blood soaking through the floor. Dad’s head is lolled towards me, his mouth open. Uncle Theo shoves a vial into my hands, taking the stopper out. It smells awful, but I trust Uncle Theo. Dad is going to be okay. “Alright, Zoe. Give it to him now.”

Dad still doesn’t move and doesn’t reach for the bottle himself, so I dump the whole bottle into his mouth and close it. I sit back, watching, waiting for his throat to move, but it doesn’t. He isn’t swallowing. Why isn’t he swallowing? I practically scream at Uncle Theo, “He isn’t swallowing this! What do I do?”

“Pinch his nose. Hold it tight, Zoe. Don’t let go until he swallows!” Uncle Theo sounds so serious, it is kinda scary. I don’t know what else to do, so I pinch his nose. A few seconds pass before his throat bobs and Uncle Theo murmurs, “You are doing great. Another one in a second.”

Uncle Theo’s wand is moving in a flurry of blue light, tracing intricate patterns into the sky and muttering a spell that I have never heard before. I don’t look back at the hole that I saw in Dad, I can’t. I need to be strong for Dad, so I trust that whatever Uncle Theo is saying will help. A few minutes go by of Uncle Theo casting the spell, then telling me to feed Dad a potion. We get into a bit of a rhythm, and soon Dad starts to get a little color back to his face. Not much. He is still pale as death, but not quite like a ghost anymore. The pool of blood hasn’t gotten any bigger, but it is hard to tell since blood coats everything.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the blue light fade away, but I don’t look away from Dad’s face, watching him breathe. I jump a little when Uncle Theo’s hand rests on my shoulder. I pull my eyes away from Dad for just a second to look up at my godfather. “He’s going to be okay, Zoe. Let’s get him to bed.”

Numbly, I nod at Uncle Theo, releasing Dad’s head and standing up. I feel sticky and I don’t want to look down and see what is all over my hands and legs. Uncle Theo just flicks his wand again, and Dad’s body floats to my eye level. His hands fall limply towards the ground, and I grip one tightly, willing him to wake up, to tell me that he is fine. If Uncle Theo cares about me holding Dad’s hand, he doesn’t say anything and just starts walking out of the library to go to the bedrooms.

He lays Dad’s body down on the big bed, right in the middle. That’s not how Dad sleeps. He sleeps on the left side of the bed, never in the middle. The middle is uncomfy and there is no room for me to snuggle. I want to say something, but more tears start pouring out of my eyes and I can’t breathe. I am sobbing, unable to stop and Uncle Theo comes up and wraps me in a hug, trying to get me to calm down. He is holding me too tight. His cheek is scratchy with a small beard. He smells different, like copper and medicine. Not like Dad. Not like toothpaste and books. He feels wrong and I can’t breathe, can’t think anymore. All I can see is the pool of blood, the look in Dad’s eyes when he fell to the ground, and the white skin that was cool to touch. Uncle Theo is stroking my hair, whispering something in my ear, but I don’t hear him. We sit there for a few moments and I try to breathe in and out, just like Dad has taught me when I am scared or frustrated. Build a wall in your mind, he would say. Make it high and thick, so no one can get in, and lock away whatever makes you scared. I feel the first brick in my mind before I really even think about it and then I am building the tallest wall ever, out of thick stone like the ones on the outside of the Manor. 

Finally, I stop crying and Uncle Theo pulls away from me enough to look at my face. “I’m so sorry, Zoe. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What about? What about Dad? We can’t leave him alone.” I still sound blubbery, but I don’t care. I don’t want to leave Dad by himself, not for a second.

“Effie will sit with Master Draco, Little Mistress. Mister Theo will help you clean up and Effie will get you if anything happens.” She sounds just as blubbery as I do, but I nod and let Uncle Theo pull me to my bedroom and into my bathroom.

I look at the mirror and then drop my eyes immediately. There is blood everywhere. It’s in my hair, on my hands, on my face, soaking through my pajamas. Everywhere. Uncle Theo doesn’t stop whispering to me like he is trying to calm a hippogriff, as he helps me get out of my pajamas and step under the shower that he had started a second ago. The water is warm on my skin. I look down after I step in, but look back up at the wall fast. When I looked down, the water wasn’t clear. It was pink.

Uncle Theo helps me scrub my back and wash my hair, getting rid of any traces of blood and when I step out of the shower, he wraps me in a fluffy, green towel. I try not to look at the bloody pajama pants sitting in the corner by the sink. There is another pair of pajamas waiting for me on the bed, my snitch pajamas, but I walk past my bed and go for my dresser. I have to move some clothes around, but I find one of Dad’s old t-shirts. It is way too big for me but too small for Dad, so he said that I could wear it as a nightgown. That is what I put on before stalking to my bed, scooping Bruce up in my arms, and marching back towards Dad’s room. It still smells like Dad and I breathe in his scent as I walk, trying to keep my breathing controlled. Trying to be the Malfoy that I have practiced being, cool and collected.

When I get back to Dad, he has scooted to his side of the bed. I don’t know if Effie helped him move, or if he did it in his sleep but I don’t care. I just hop onto the bed and snuggle into place beside him, my head resting on his chest. I can feel him breathing, feel his heart beating, and it is the best sound I have ever heard. I think Uncle Theo might have tried to say something, but I just hear hissing from him and Effie in the corner of the bedroom. I can’t understand what they are saying, but I don’t try very hard. It doesn’t matter anyways. Dad is okay. He is okay. He is okay. I drift off to sleep, counting each beat of his heart as I do.

There is sunlight streaming in through the curtains when I finally start to wake up. I am about to get up and stretch, but there are other people in the room, whispering like they are trying not to wake someone up. I want to check on Dad, but I can wait until I hear what they are saying.

“I’m telling you Pans. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was like he was cut and then splinched the inside of his body. But I don’t know how that would have even happened. Drake has never splinched himself before. I don’t know how he even made it home, much less as long as he did before I got here.”

“But he’s fine? You’re sure that he’s fine?” Aunt Pans sounds tired, like she has been up all night.

“He will be, I hope. Just needs a lot of rest. But it’s bound to be touch and go. That was a new curse and I don’t know if I got it all. Zoe, on the other hand . . .” Uncle Theo trails off.

“How much did she see exactly?” Uncle Z is here too? He sounds just as tired as Aunt Pans and Uncle Theo. I wonder where all of the Baby Snakes are. Maybe Aunt Lu is watching all of the kids. That’s good. They shouldn’t see what happened. They don’t need to know. It would probably just scare them.

“Everything. Effie was shaking too badly to help, so I had to use her when I healed him. Merlin, save me. I felt like a right bastard the whole time, but she wouldn’t leave. She had tried to fix him herself before I even got here. She barely left his side so I could get his blood off of her.” 

“When I find out what kind of shit healer told him he could apparate home in his condition, I’m going to . . .” Aunt Pans is scary when she is mad and I can almost feel the fire that I bet is in her eyes right now.

“Fiore, we have another set of ears in the room. We can finish this discussion later. Zoe, sweetheart, how did you sleep?” How did Uncle Z know I was awake? He’s really good at guessing what is going to happen. Dad says that he can sorta see the future. Sometimes, he is good at seeing what I am trying to hide, which is no fun when we play hide and seek.

“I slept fine. Is Dad gonna be okay, Uncle Theo?” I don’t look over at my Aunt and Uncles huddled in the corner, instead keeping my eyes on Dad’s face. It is still pale, but not nearly as bad as last night. And his chest is still moving, still breathing.

Aunt Pans is behind me then, tugging me into her chest like I was the one who got hurt. Her grip is tight, but I don’t pull away. I just breathe in her perfume: jasmine with vanilla accents was what she told me once. “He is going to be fine, love. You were so brave last night. We are so proud of you.”

“Are you sure? Dad should be awake by now. He never sleeps in this long. Maybe you should double check.” He is still breathing. He has to be okay if he is still breathing. 

Aunt Pans gently moves a bit of my hair away from my face, holding my stare. “I swear to you, Zoe, your Dad is going to be just fine. How about we let Uncle Theo and Uncle Blaise watch him while we go and get some breakfast?”

Everyone is looking at me like I am about to start crying and they don’t know how to help. I am really hungry, but I don’t want to leave Dad’s side. One look at Aunt Pans tells me that she isn’t really asking if I want to get some breakfast. She is going to drag me out of the room to get breakfast regardless, but she wants to pretend to give me a choice. I want to be fast so I can come back up and be here when Dad wakes up, so I look at my Uncles, staring them down as fiercely as I can. I use my Dragon stare, as Dad likes to call it.

“Okay, but you two can’t leave the room at all. He needs someone watching him. And if something happens, you need to get me and bring me back.” I shouldn’t be giving them rules. They are adults. That’s not my job, but they both look at me, their lips pulled into thin lines, and just nod like it is totally normal for me to boss them around.

Uncle Theo chimes back in, trying to keep his voice light and funny like he normally is. “I promise that we will keep a very close watch over him, but if he starts spewing fire, I am not sitting around to be barbecued. You can come up and tame the Dragon, sound good?” He ruffles my hair a little before moving back to the bed and casting a spell over Dad. That bright blue light from last night is in the air again, filled with symbols and pictures that I don’t understand. Uncle Z has his arms folded across his chest as he looks at the symbols. Even Aunt Pans looks at them for a minute before gently grabbing my arm and turning me away toward the door.

We walk downstairs together. I don’t try to jump on the banister. I don’t feel like flying without Dad. Effie is waiting for us in the kitchen with a ton of food, all of my favorites. She even has some desserts that I like on the counter, but my stomach feels funny like I am going to be sick. I probably won’t be able to eat much. Aunt Pans doesn’t say anything while I eat a bowl of oatmeal with fruit. It isn’t a lot, but my stomach doesn’t feel worse, so I try to finish it all. I am eating too fast to be polite, my manners flying out the window. Aunt Pans still haven’t said anything, so she must be letting it slide today. As soon as I finish my breakfast, I barely set my bowl in the sink before running back upstairs to Dad’s bedroom. I don’t even bother waiting for Aunt Pans to follow me. She knows where I am going.

My shoulders sag in relief when I see Dad, sitting up on a stack of pillows, blinking the last bits of sleep out of his eyes. “DAD!!!” My scream could shatter windows as I run to him. I want to wrap him in a tight hug and never let go, but I don’t want to hurt his injury, so instead, I just lean my head on his chest. Tears are flowing down my cheek and I can feel his hand on my back, rubbing small circles into my muscle like he always does when he wants to keep me grounded or feel better after I have had a bad day. He still smells funny, but better than Uncle Theo. And his hand on my shoulder feels right. Something in my chest unwinds at the familiar movement, something that I didn’t even realize was tight until right now. 

No one says anything or even makes noise while I sit there, sobbing into Dad’s chest for a few minutes. When I pull my head back to look up at Dad, his eyes are swimming with tears of his own and he pats the bed next to him and I waste no time hopping onto the bed and snuggling into his side, the uninjured one. 

“You know, if you wanted to get rid of that ugly ass rug in the library, you could have just told me.” Uncle Theo muses from the corner, standing from his chair and moving towards the bed.

“Theo now is not the time to be an ass. Drake, how do you feel?” Aunt Pans smack Uncle Theo on the shoulder, lightly, but her expression is the scary calm that she gets when she is about to yell, really loud. 

“I feel fine, Parks. I am a bit sore but otherwise okay. You both need to watch your language.” Dad’s voice is raspy like he has a sore throat, but he is talking. He is breathing. He is smiling. He’s okay.

“Good.” Then Aunt Pans is across the room, whacking Dad’s arm over and over again, each word accented by a hit, “Don’t. You. Ever. Scare. Us. Like. That. Again.” Her eyes sparkle with tears, just like mine. I have never seen her cry before, I realize.

“Okay. Okay. Okay. I get the point. Merlin, Parks, go easy on a guy. I nearly bled out a few hours ago. The least you could do is not add to my list of injuries.” My face goes white. Dad nearly bled out only a few hours ago. My knuckles are gripping the comforter so tight that it hurts, but I don’t think Dad notices, at least not until Uncle Z does.

“Drake. Not the time. Not with the audience.” Uncle Z is always so calm. His gaze is fixed on me and he mimes deep breaths. His eyes are silently willing me to breathe with the same pattern that he is exaggerating, so I do. Breathe in. Hold for three seconds. Breathe out.

“Zoe, my light. I am okay. I promise. I am not going anywhere.” Dad’s hand grabs mine, pulling it into his lap. Breathe in. Hold for three seconds. Breathe out.

“Alright, enough of this shit. I am giving you a free pass on the rough jokes cause you’re injured, but don’t think that I will be as lenient when you’re all healed up. Now that you’re awake, I want to check a few levels.” 

He walks up to the bed, Aunt Pans unmoving at Dad’s side. Uncle Theo pushes her a little like they are play fighting. “Miss Zabini, I will graciously ask you to move.” He gives Aunt Pans a mocking bow and she just raises her eyebrow and doesn’t move away from the bed. I am about to say something when Uncle Theo speaks again,”  Yo, Healer coming through to check on my patient. I get the right-of-way.”

He uses his hip to push around her and she scowls, but moves to stand by Uncle Z. He immediately wraps a hand around her waist, kissing her forehead, while she grips his arm tightly. I scoot a little bit away from Dad, making sure that Uncle Theo has enough room to work and check Dad’s side and back. Dad grunts a little when he rolls over toward me, his eyes locked on mine, but doesn’t cry out in pain. Uncle Theo stares at the wound and waves his wand over the bandages. That same blue light shimmers in the air above Dad, filled with those symbols that I don’t understand, but Uncle Theo does. He reads them like a book, murmuring to himself as he works. 

I need to distract myself so I say, to no one in particular, “Where are the rest of the Baby Snakes? Who’s watching them?”

“Luna is playing with them at Nott Manor. We were going to bring you over there after breakfast, but it is up to you whether you want to stay here or go there. It is your choice, Zoe.” Uncle Z is still breathing deep, his voice perfectly calm. At least the Baby Snakes are having fun.

“I’m staying.” A declaration. Aunt Pans looks like she wants to argue, but Uncle Z just puts a hand on her wrist, gently holding her back from whatever she wanted to say and they instead just nod.

“Drake, do you need us to stay?” Aunt Pans sounds almost nervous to leave. She probably doesn’t want him to be alone, just like me. Her eyes jump between Dad and I, a question in them. I can’t tell what she is asking, but Dad seems to know.

“We will be fine. Go and help Luna. I am okay, Pansy, I swear to you.”

They nod at each other and then Uncle Z and Aunt Pans come over to the bed. They both kiss my forehead, Aunt Pans squeezing me a quick hug before they leave the room, heading for the floo. The light from Uncle Theo’s wand finally dies out and Uncle Theo looks at Dad. “Well, the curse didn’t reopen the wound, so we are in the clear there, but you are officially on bedrest for the next three days. I’m not sure what other nasties were in that curse, but I have never seen anything like it before and I’ll be damned if I take any chances with you. Oh and in case you get any crazy ideas about wandering around before I say that you are ready, I should let you know that Effie has been getting regular updates from me all night and is under strict orders to beat your ass with a broomstick until you get back in bed.”

Dad smiles a bit at that, and I do too. The image of little Effie whacking Dad’s legs with her cleaning broom until he is forced back into bed is so funny that I let a little giggle out of my mouth. Both of the men in the room look at me and then let out chuckles of their own.

“Well, this has definitely been fun, but I need to get home to make sure that Luna and the kids are okay and you need to contact the Ministry and tell them that you won’t be coming in for a few days. Use whatever shit excuse you have to, but I’d have a serious word about whatever sorry excuse for a field healer looked you over. No magic use. Send Effie if you need anything, Zoe that goes for you too. Effie, watch over them please.” Effie pops into the room, a bowl of fruit salad in her hands and another one of those nasty green potions floating beside her. She nods at Uncle Theo and he starts to walk out of the room. 

I jump off the bed, telling Dad that I need to get something from my bedroom. As I leave, Effie starts feeding Dad the food, and, even though I want to stay and help Dad, I follow Uncle Theo out of the bedroom instead of going to my own room. 

“Uncle Theo, can we talk?” He stops really quickly and then turns back around to me, surprise in his eyes.

“What’s up, little love? Do you need something? Are you coming over to play?” His eyes are warm and steady. He feels so different than he did last night, but he is still my favorite Uncle, not that I’d ever tell Uncle Z that. 

“I want you to teach me.” Short and to the point. I don’t want him to say no and I don’t know if my superpower is going to work right now. I don’t feel very super right now.

“Teach you what?” He sounds wary, concerned almost.

“Teach me how to fix Dad. Or how to read those symbols from your spell.”

“Zoe. That was incredibly advanced magic. It would take years to learn. Not to mention the fact that your Dad isn’t going to get himself in that much trouble again.” 

“Yes, he will. Cause that’s what he does. He saves people and protects people, especially the ones that he loves. He’s a dragon and dragons fight. Please, Uncle Theo. I couldn’t help him yesterday. I need to be able to help him if there is ever a next time. Dad says that we should always be prepared. Please help me be prepared. Please, Uncle Theo.”

Uncle Theo doesn’t say anything for a long while. He just crouches down in the hallway, at my eye level. I can feel his mind working, but I pull my magic away from his mind. We don’t walk into others’ minds unless we ask first. That is Dad’s number one rule with mind magic. Merlin, please let Uncle Theo say yes. I need him to say yes. I will learn and be the best and nothing will ever be able to hurt Dad again.

Uncle Theo sighs, big, and holds my stare. “Okay, Zoe. But we take things at my pace. And if things are ever as serious as they were last night, you need to come and get me. Can you promise me that?”

“I promise.”

Uncle Theo just nods and says, “Well then, little love. I guess I am your new teacher now. In my first lesson, I say that you need some one-on-one patient time. Go and hang out with your Dad today and we will start sometime soon. He needs you right now to just be you. I will be back in a few hours to check on everything.” He kisses my forehead then stands up straight and starts walking toward the stairs. I stay and watch him leave for another second and then turn on my heel, running back to Dad’s bedroom where Effie is dutifully making sure that Dad drinks the whole potion.

I don’t say anything as I just hop back up onto the bed and curl back into Dad’s side. He holds me and we sit there for a long while, not daring to interrupt the silence and I focus on his breathing.

“Thank you, Zoe. You were so brave and I am so proud of you. I promise that I won’t do anything like that to you ever again.” Dad’s voice cracks like he is about to cry. I don’t look at him because I don’t want him to see my tears either.

“I’m tired, Dad. Can we take a nap?” If Dad notices that I don’t accept his promise, then he doesn’t say anything. He just pulls me tighter to him and we both shift down the bed, laying down fully now. It doesn’t take us long before sleep starts to pull us under and I cling to him with every bit of strength that I have. I will learn. I will practice. And I will never be helpless like that again.

Chapter Text

Hermione

November 8, 2007

It had been such a long week at work. Malfoy practically drowned me in paperwork with his stupid interrogation of that werewolf. I don’t even know how someone can break so many bones without actually killing someone. I had to deal with all of Ron’s rants after work about how the whole department was favoring Malfoy. It was insufferable. I had left home early every day just to escape all of his incessant complaints. Then, to top it all off, I had to organize a raid with less than two hours' notice. Luckily, we had no casualties or I would never get out from under the mountain of paper. Not to mention the fact that Harry kept dumping his paperwork on me so he could focus on the Task Force work. I need to learn how to say no to him. 

And of course, that’s not even touching the fact that, since the raid, there had been a sharp pain in my chest, insistent and annoying. It pulled at me like it wanted me to go somewhere. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, I just have no clue what it is. Thankfully, the pain had lessened considerably, almost disappearing by the end of the week. 

Saturday could not come fast enough. Ginny, Luna, and I had been planning a lunch date for almost a full month, but we were all so busy that getting together was nearly impossible. With Ginny and Luna’s kids running around, they had very little time to just come out and I was so swamped by work most of the time that we could only really meet once every other month. We still tried to keep to a schedule though, just so we got some time away from everything else. 

It had started as a standing time away from studying at Hogwarts when we all went back after the war. Harry and Ron didn’t come back for their eighth year, so I was all alone, but Ginny dragged me to all of her functions, including lunches and study time with Luna. The three of us became much closer, the first real girlfriends I had ever had, so we promised to stay in touch after we graduated. It turned out to be a good idea. Ginny and I stayed close, even living together before we got married, but Luna drifted away, joining the Slytherins of all people. Her wedding to Theodore Nott was one of the biggest shocks ever, but she seemed happy so I went to the wedding, even though Ron refused to come with me. Despite attending her wedding, she never invited either Ginny or me to spend any time with the group of Slytherins, so we only saw her on our lunch dates. I hadn’t even met her kids yet, but that was no surprise. The snakes were all very protective of their children. They were rarely seen in public. Hell, most of the wizarding world didn’t even know that Malfoy had a kid. 

It was earlier than normal when I woke up on Saturday to the sound of my husband’s snoring. Groaning, I reached for my wand on the nightstand and cast a silencing charm as I slid out of bed. His shoes are sprawled haphazardly across the room and a flicker of annoyance shoots through me. I can’t even count the number of times that I have asked him to just put them in the closet. Probably the same amount of times I asked him to close his mouth when he ate. Or the number of times I asked him to pick up his Quidditch supplies when he got home from practice. I suck in a deep breath through my nose and simply flick my wand at his shoes. They go flying into the closet and I follow them in, getting dressed for the day in a pair of muggle jeans and one of my old Christmas sweaters from Molly, a deep purple with gold lettering. I move into the bathroom, grimacing at my hair which is sticking out in a rat’s nest around my head. I whip my wand around my head, muttering one of the charms that had minimal levels of success at taming my mane and then I grab one of my strongest hair ties and pull my hair back into a thick ponytail. 

Once I am ready for the day, I head to the kitchen to make my coffee before flooing over to Grimmauld Place to help Ginny and Harry get all of the kids’ things situated for Molly and Arthur. Ron is sitting at the kitchen table. I must have woken him up when I went to get dressed. 

“Aren’t you going to Diagon Alley this morning? You shouldn’t be wearing those clothes to go there.” He spits out a mouthful of the cereal he is eating out onto the table. I force myself not to shudder at the sight and swallow my initial retort.

“Yes. Ginny and I are getting lunch with Luna in Diagon Alley, but I didn’t want to change before dinner with my parents tonight.” My fingers are playing with the hem of the sweater nervously. I don’t need to change. Everyone expects me to wear Muggle clothing. It’s not like Rita Skeeter won’t have comments about anything that I wear.

“You’re just asking for the wrong kind of attention, that’s all. Also, I can’t make it to dinner tonight.” He doesn’t even bother to look up from his breakfast.

“What? Ron, we have been planning this dinner for two weeks. Why can’t you come now?” He had missed the last two scheduled family dinners and I had specifically worked around his schedule to make sure that he could be here tonight. I had told Ginny and Luna that I would have to leave early tonight just so we could make it. 

“I have an important meeting with George and some potential investors in the joke shop. I promised him that I would be there for it. You don’t want me to leave him by himself, do you?”

George had just gotten the light back in his eyes after spending so much time as a shadow, but, despite all of his progress, he was still fragile. He could get set off by some of the smallest things. Angelina had done wonders, but I wouldn’t force Ron to abandon his brother for me. Family came first, always.

“Fine. But we will need to reschedule. My parents really want to see you. You haven’t been over in two months.” My voice is calm, and matter-of-fact, but my magic feels uncontrolled like I am about to explode. The tug in my chest strengthens, practically pulling me out of the door. I know that if I don’t leave soon, I will explode, and I don’t want to deal with that fight right now, so I shove an apple into my mouth and grab my bag from the front door, walking to the floo. “Write my parents about canceling. Oh and tell George that I said hi.”

Stepping through the flames, I am greeted by Ginny sitting on the dark black couch in front of the fireplace, reading to the little boy curled tightly to her side. Grimmauld Place, through a lot of transfiguration and charm work, has no trace of the dreary, grim home it used to be. Now, the walls are a deep maroon and the windows are almost always open, letting in the natural light. There are countless signs of the three little ones that run the household no matter where you look. Small bookshelves at the perfect height for a toddler to grab. A few toys haphazardly lying on the floor by the fireplace. A petite broomstick leaning against a doorframe. 

The Potter kids are spitting images of their parents, though their personalities could not be more different. Albus, the middle child, has always loved books and is far close with Ginny, while James and Lily trail Harry around like lost puppies. James would rather spend all day on his broom than read a book, while Lily is simply content to wobble around and convince everyone that she needs to be held. It’s no surprise that neither James nor Lily are sitting, listening to whatever book Ginny is reading to Albus. They have far too much energy, but Albus is perfectly content to sit for hours. I thank Merlin every day that I was chosen to be Albus’ godmother and not one of the other two. Albus and I just understand each other better. Harry likes to say that he acts more like me than either him or Ginny.

I don’t want to interrupt the story so I just sit in the hideous green armchair to the right of the couch and settle in, knowing that Albus will complain if Ginny stops before the chapter ends. He hates to stop in the middle of a story, a trait that we both share. Before I can really get comfortable, the sound of thundering footsteps echoes through the house. James sprints into the room, rounding the corner so fast that he almost misses the doorway, making a beeline for me. He squeezes me in a tight hug and I can barely see over his unruly black hair. The little red-head girl who rules this house reaches impatiently for me. “Up Aunt Mione. Please.”

I giggle at her impatient tone. She has been a princess since day one and Harry hasn’t seemed to spoil her any less despite my protests. I pick her up though, planting a kiss on her cheek, and then look back to Albus and Ginny on the couch. Albus’ face is screwed into a mix of distress and joy, probably at the fact that Ginny stopped reading and my presence. He is much quieter than both of his siblings. I wave my hand, not currently around Lily’s waist, at him and he smiles, waving back. 

Before I can say anything else, Harry’s voice rings through the space, clear and authoritative. “Alright, kiddos. Does everyone have their things for Grams and Gramps’ house?” He rounds the corner and I can’t help the smile that overtakes my face. Fatherhood sits well with Harry. He can rarely be seen with a scowl on his face outside of work. He exudes confidence. Mostly, he smiles and initiates physical touches, something that he actively avoided when I met him so many years ago. I will never get over how much he has changed and grown up because of the people in this room. 

Lily wiggles in my arms and I set her down. James and Lily walk away, leaving just enough space for Albus to come up and give me a tight hug. I kiss his cheek and then he pulls away to join his siblings. In almost no time at all, the kids are all running through the house again, gathering whatever they plan to bring to the Burrow, so Harry, Ginny, and I are left alone in the living room. “Hey ‘Mione. Sorry. We are running a little behind today. I’ll get the kids so you can head out. Merlin knows I don’t want to hold you up here since you have to leave early today.” Harry walks across the room and casually rests his arm around Ginny’s waist, kissing her forward gently. Their gentle intimacy reminds me of how hard they fought for the normalcy we have managed to achieve. 

“Ron had to cancel dinner tonight, so I have all the time in the world today. It might be easier to wrangle your kids than it is to get my husband to attend a simple dinner.” My sarcasm is so bald, so blatant that even Harry, my wonderfully oblivious friend, catches the anger that I am trying to squash.

“Isn’t that the third time in the last few months?” Ginny doesn’t even attempt to hide her rising anger at her brother. This isn’t the first time that we have had this conversation, so I take a breath, knowing that this is not going to be pretty.

“He has important things going on, Gin. I just need to be better about scheduling these things when he can come. It will be fine. Eventually, we will find a good day.” I try to remind myself that it isn’t his fault that George scheduled that meeting tonight. And he couldn’t help when his team got a lead on his cases. It was unavoidable, no matter how much I might wish things were different. My heart strains painfully at the couple in front of me, so casual with their touches and love. I can’t remember the last time that Ron held me like that.

“It is not your fault and you know it! He needs to --” She starts, her freckles disappearing as her face turns red with frustration.

“I thought that girl’s day rule was no talking about husbands until after we had at least two drinks?” I interrupt quickly, hoping to avoid this conversation until we are away from the prying ears of my nephews and nieces. Harry raises an eyebrow at my statement, likely unaware of our girls’ day rules, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Fine. But don’t think that we are done discussing this. Let’s go. I don’t want to leave Luna waiting too long.” Ginny gives Harry a chaste kiss on the lips and then links her arm with mine. We both wave over our shoulder at Harry, who chuckles and waves back before I feel a tug in my gut, and the world shifts in color as we apparate.

The restaurant is packed, but that’s to be expected. Since opening only a few weeks ago, this place had been full nearly every night and I heard that getting a reservation was basically impossible. I was a bit wary about our ability to get in, but Luna had promised that she would take care of securing us a table, and I knew better than to doubt the eccentric blonde. She had her ways, even if I didn’t understand them.

The man at the host stand is young, probably straight out of Hogwarts if I had to guess and he is dressed in a smart navy suit with gold lettering that matches the elegant sign on the storefront. He doesn’t look up from the stand in front of him until Ginny clears her throat and a flash of recognition passes his features before he starts fumbling with a few menus. 

One mention of Luna’s name has Ginny and I following the man through the restaurant to a private, back room. Thank Merlin. He opens the door and we both head in, mesmerized by the large window taking up most of the back wall. I didn’t notice any large windows on the outside of the building. It must be charmed to allow the restaurant patrons to view the Alley but not the other way around. I would have to research the charm later. It’s a brilliant piece of magic and I am grateful that we won’t be seen by any reporters wandering by. 

Luna is sitting at the table, already flipping through a menu absently, but she looks up when the young man closes the door behind us. Her usual ethereal smile overtakes her face, but there is a strain in her features that is not normally there. It is hidden and the casual observer probably wouldn’t notice, but we have spent too much time together for the difference to slip past me. I narrow my eyes at her as she hugs Ginny tightly, but she shakes her head almost imperceptibly and I decide to wait, at least until after our first drink, before prying any answers out of her. Once Ginny releases Luna, I waste no time enveloping her in a hug. She smells of lavender and sage, a calming scent that I have always appreciated. 

Hugs out of the way, we sit around the table and, like we triggered some sort of alarm, another young man in the same blue suit walks in, taking our orders, and then hurries back out of the room, leaving us to our conversation.

“How’d you manage to get this room, Luna? This place has been booked like two months in advance since it opened? Harry and I have been trying to get a reservation for a few weeks now.” Ginny must not have noticed the difference in Luna today, or maybe she was doing the same thing I was.

“Oh, I simply told Blaise that you both were dying to try his new place. I am sure I could get a reservation for you and Harry if you wanted one still? Blaise is very accommodating.” Her voice is so calm, collected, and utterly unruffled. It was a trait that never ceased to amaze me.

“Wait, Zabini runs this place? I thought it was some Italian wizard that recently moved to London?” That’s what the Prophet had suggested when it ran the first piece on the restaurant’s grand opening. My expression must match Ginny’s because Luna just laughs at our surprise.

“That is what Blaise told the Prophet isn’t it,” Luna said with a slight smirk. “I forget that he has tried to stay out of the spotlight. My Teddy has been trying to convince him to publicly declare his ownership since it has been such a success, but Blaise insists that the mystery adds to the intrigue.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Ginny waggles one of her fingers towards Luna. “You know the rules. No husbands until after drink two. You’re buying the first round.”

That rule had been put in place early on when Luna decided to tell us both far too much about her sex life while we were still completely sober. At least with the rule in place, we were able to get a decent buzz going before hearing all about Theodore Nott and his spectacular performances in bed. Not that Ginny was innocent either and I certainly was not about to hear about Harry’s exploits without some type of buzz.

“Alright,” Luna chuckled, “How’s work been for you both? We have been busy with a Swedish Short Snout that has been seen all over the Scottish countryside near Hogsmeade.”

“The team got a new Chaser this season who shows a lot of potential, but she hasn’t bothered to take the time to learn our plays and the coach is getting more and more frustrated. I’ll be surprised if she lasts the season. What about you, Hermione? Harry has only given me small details.”

“You buy the round after Luna. No husbands, Gin. And there isn’t much that I can tell you, other than the fact that we have been very busy.”

A shadow passes over Luna’s features for just a second and then it’s gone. I really need to ask her what’s going on, but Ginny chimes in before I get a chance. “How are the twins doing, Lu? We really need to get the kids together sometime. I haven’t even seen Athena in almost two years.”

Luna has been extremely protective of her children, keeping them far away from large swathes of wizarding society, much like another blonde I know. Even though we meet regularly, I have only met Athena Nott once and Ginny has seen her a few times, but nothing like we expected to. We have both tried not to push, but Luna never seemed comfortable with our presence at her home unannounced, a vast difference from the Weasley’s attitudes about their own homes. 

“I will have to speak to Theo, but I am sure that we can bring the children by sometime. The twins are very busy, but we are lucky to have such a good family to support us.” She never elaborates on what family, and never names anyone else except Blaise and Pansy Zabini.

“Well, I would love to meet them as well, Luna, if I have the opportunity. You are all welcome at our home anytime.” 

“I don’t think that Ron would appreciate my husband’s presence, but I am grateful for your offer, Hermione.”

“Wow. We are really bad at our rules today. That waiter better be back soon, cause we are downing the first two right now if you are both going to keep talking about your husbands all day.” Ginny shakes her head in mock disgust and we all explode into giggles. It’s been far too long since we did this. Merlin, I have missed them.

The waiter comes back with three large bottles of wine and a few plates with horderves that we immediately get into. Ginny pours each of us a glass, far too big for proper consumption, claiming that it will count as two drinks when we finish it. I don’t waste much time before taking a large drink, letting the alcohol slip down my throat, it’s fruity tones coating my tongue. It’s bitter, with a note of cranberries. It’s a perfect choice for the cold weather outside the window in front of our table. The buzz in my head builds slowly as I continue to sip from the glass.

We talk about everything and nothing for nearly twenty minutes: a new playground near Grimmauld Place, some recent staffing changes at Hogwarts, the next party that we are all attending, how annoying husbands are. The minutes pass by in a flurry before the conversation lulls. My head is properly light from the drinking and my tongue is loose in my mouth. I don’t want to waste any more time in determining what is going on in the blonde’s head, but Luna beats me to it, filling the silence before I have the chance to.

“So, who will be replacing Draco on the Task Force for the next few days?” Luna’s face is the same, her expression not changing in the slightest, but my mouth drops and my stomach does a little flip. I hate that. It started out subtle, just small reactions to him. I mean, who could deny that Malfoy cut an impressive figure? And I had to admit that he was great with trainees, so patient and yet commanding. It made me respect him even more, but lately, my feelings toward him had become a bit disconcerting. 

Wait, what was it that Luna said? Malfoy won’t be at work for a few days. I haven’t heard anything about that. My confusion must be evident in my face, because she quickly adds, “Didn’t he inform you about his current state?”

“I haven’t received any communication from Malfoy. He doesn’t send messages to my home and I haven’t been in the office since I last checked casualty reports on Friday morning. What is his current state?” I try to run through all of the notices that I received on Friday after the raid. Malfoy’s name wasn’t on any of the incident reports and he wasn’t on the list of Aurors sent to St. Mungos. But I don’t remember seeing him in the office on Friday. Not a total irregularity when he just had paperwork to do. If he could, he took that kind of work home so he could spend time with his daughter. A cold, sinking feeling starts growing in my gut. 

“Oh. He probably wasn’t recovered enough. I will have Teddy send you an official message, updating you on his condition.” Why would Theodore need to send me a message? He is a healer at St. Mungos, but Malfoy wasn’t treated there. What on earth is she going on about?

“Luna, please don’t misunderstand, but I have no idea what you are talking about. Why would your husband need to send me anything?” Ginny is shaking her head at me. My tone must be harsher than I meant it to be. I consciously try to school my features into something a bit closer to the peaceful look that Luna still has on her own face.

“Since he spent most of Thursday night healing Draco’s injuries. I assumed that you would have been told. Draco has been on bed rest and won’t be able to come into work for a few days, though Teddy tells me that he is recovering marvelously for having lost nearly all of his blood.” For the first time that I can remember, Luna’s face is visibly strained like this is one topic that makes her uncomfortable. It should stun me to realize that, but all I can focus on are the words now floating around my mind. Bedrest. Injuries. Lost nearly all his blood. Recovering. 

My eyes dart to Ginny. I don’t know what I am looking for, maybe a sign that I misheard Luna. I don’t have any such luck. Ginny’s lips are drawn into a tight line, her brow furrowed. There is a panicked look on her face like she is reaching the same conclusion I have made. Draco Malfoy nearly died two nights ago, and I had no idea. Neither did Harry it seems. I honestly can’t tell if Luna recognizes the looks on our faces, but I turn back to her anyway. 

“How bad was it?” My voice is barely a whisper. I almost lost a valuable team member. And I had no idea. How did I have no idea? How did it get this bad? What the hell happened?

Luna’s eyes dart between Ginny and I, her gaze shrewd like she is trying to determine what information we can be trusted with. She must see something in our faces that deems us worthy of the whole truth because she takes a deep breath before her next words. “Teddy said that he had never seen that amount of blood. Zoe was practically covered in it. But, luckily she came and got Teddy in time so he was able to excise the curse and replenish his blood.”

All of the blood drains from my face. Ginny may not know that name, but I do. It is the one secret that Harry ever kept from his wife, out of respect for another father who would do anything to protect their child: the name of Malfoy’s daughter. Images flash through my mind, completely unbidden. A little girl covered in blood, tears streaming down her face. Draco lying in a pool of his own blood. Luna holding her own kids away from the sight. Shit. I hope that Luna is exaggerating, or that my mind is just being overactive. 

How could this have happened? Our healers are trained to never let someone apparate home until they have been purged of all curses. That is one of the first rules in the handbook. I only sent out my best healers after the raid, because of the high-profile Aurors working the case. Nothing like this should have happened. This had to have been an accident. Yes, that is what this was. An unfortunate accident. My stomach roils mutinously and a small voice in the back of my mind whispers This was no accident.

I reach around my chair to the bag hanging off the side and plunge my arm in deep. The Undetectable Extension Charm on the bag is no secret, at least not to the two women present. After a few seconds of fumbling, my fingers close around a vial filled with a smelly orange liquid, a Sober-Up potion that I had brought for the dinner with my parents that will not be happening tonight. I don’t waste any time removing the stopper from the bottle and downing the contents, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. My mind immediately begins to clear and my thoughts organize themselves into neat patterns once again, but the sick feeling in my stomach doesn’t dissipate. Instead, it only gets worse. 

Luna’s eyes shine with understanding. Ginny just sighs sympathetically and pushes away from the table. “Well, that wasn’t the ending to the girls' lunch that I was expecting. Send us a Patronus when you get home tonight, yeah?” They both stand up and hug me. I don’t even have to explain where I am going, instead, I just grab my bag and turn to leave the restaurant. 

The crack of my apparition is louder than normal, but I don’t particularly care. There are more pressing matters, like finding out how the hell Draco was left in such a dire condition without my notice. I must have missed some piece of paperwork. There must have been a mistake. Maybe one of the healers was just overwhelmed or maybe they were new. Or Malfoy could have left before getting checked by a healer. That’s possible.

My office looks just as it did when I left yesterday, desk cleared, but a stack of files behind it. All of the incident reports and statements from the Aurors and healers involved in Thursday’s raid. Wordlessly, I levitate the stack to my desk, sliding into my chair. Each file is labeled by the Auror and healer, so I look for Malfoy’s report first. He is always careful with his paperwork, submitting it on time, including more details than any other member of the staff. If there is one report I can always count on, it is his. But there is no report from him. It’s as if it doesn’t exist. 

Another wave of my wand separates all of the Auror files from the healer files and I set aside the Auror files, knowing that any information I need won’t be found on those pages. Instead, I flip through each healer file, scanning for Malfoy’s name, his condition, anything. There are only five files, so I take my time, reading each carefully so I don’t miss anything. I am halfway through the fourth file before I find it, his name.

Auror Draco Malfoy examined. Body displayed three minor lacerations. Diagnostic scan completed. No Dark Magic was detected. Apparated from scene unassisted.

I read through the small passage three times, each time my blood boiling. No Dark Magic detected? If Luna is to be believed, then there is no way that a talented field healer, hand selected by Harry and I, would have missed the signs. Especially if there was a diagnostic scan. He had lacerations and was still allowed to apparate unassisted, with no follow-up. My head pounds, thoughts trying to organize themselves but failing. 

I scoot my chair away from my desk, just a few inches, to get some space from the offending file. Something in my chest pangs painfully. I don’t know what it is, but the feeling leaves me sick to my stomach at the mere thought that Draco could have died and I would have had no idea. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, clamping down on the anger that threatens to take over my sensibilities. Once my breathing is back under control, and my magic feels a bit more settled, I approach the file again, searching for the name of the healer responsible for such a grievous error. The name stands out bold and clear from the rest of the words in the report.

Healer Padma Goldstein

I try to run through everything I know about Padma since she left school. She was reserved but always professional, to an almost painful degree. She was an exceptional field healer, accustomed and unfazed by all manner of gore. She kept a cool head under pressure and looked at every patient like a problem to solve. When we went to school, she was the consummate Ravenclaw. Since school, she has been different, probably because of . . .

Oh, God! Parvati. I hadn’t thought of that name in years, not since the last funeral after the war. She had been mauled by Greyback. I had run past her body when we were trying to get to the Shrieking Shack. Bile rises in my throat. 

In those first few years, Padma had been outspoken about the punishments for the Death Eaters. She had even testified against some of them. That was why she wanted to be a field healer. She didn’t want to be an Auror, but she wanted to ensure that Death Eaters couldn’t kill anymore unnecessarily. That’s what she said in her interview. And I had always kept her away from Malfoy. I had never put them on a mission together, but I was short-staffed on Thursday, unprepared for the raid that we threw together. I didn’t think it would matter.

My hand covers my throat and a choked noise escapes me. Padma wouldn’t have made a mistake. She knows better. She has sent people to St. Mungos for far less than an unknown, dark curse. She taught me how to take diagnostic scans and how to read them. This wasn’t an accident. The world seems to pause, as the realization crests over me. My head spins and I have no idea what I need to do. 

My fingers curl around my wand absently, running along the delicate vines carved into the wood, while I try to piece together a plan. I will need to speak with Padma, but I can’t do it alone. Harry needs to be there, or even Kingsley. We need to determine how to approach her because something tells me that the confrontation will be less than pretty. And someone needs to check on Draco. Needs to assess his condition and ensure that he is well taken care of. If Luna was not exaggerating, he should be at St. Mungos. If Harry goes, they will just fight and Malfoy will be more determined than ever to stay at home. If I send Kingsley, Malfoy will just panic and Kingsley likely won’t even get through the front gate of the manor. I can’t tell anyone else. That would make the department look weak, and I don’t think that Malfoy would appreciate anyone else knowing that he was anything other than perfectly okay when he walked away from that raid. No, I only have one other option.

My hair has expanded to near untamable heights, but I force it into a thick ponytail, forcing it away from my face before setting the files back to rights. Wand in hand, I glance back at the one file left on my desk and shake my head, trying to clear away the anger that is bubbling just under the surface. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Then, with a loud crack, I disapparate, appearing in front of the thick, rod-iron gates of the Malfoy Manor.

Chapter Text

Draco

November 8, 2007

Her voice is steady as she perfectly recites the book in her lap. It’s the next book in her vampire series and she has been reading it aloud to me to try and keep me occupied for the past few days. My muscles ache from being stuck in this godforsaken bed for the past three days, but every time I have even attempted to get out of bed for anything other than the bathroom, I was met with growls from Effie and a pair of small hands pushing me back into bed before I was fixed with Zoe’s disappointed stare. They were both taking Theo’s orders so seriously that he likely could have told them that I needed to wear Gryffindor Quidditch gear and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Thankfully, my bedrest ends today, as soon as the shaggy-haired git comes back for his regular checkup.

The Snake Gang had brought all of the kids over yesterday, so Zoe had someone to play with. Pansy was worried that Zoe was isolating herself after something so traumatizing, and Blaise was suspicious as to how fast she seemed to be over the whole ordeal. I didn’t object. Zoe seemed so happy when they came over, and it was nice to see her play for a little and take a break from watching my progress with Theo, sitting like an attentive student. At first, Luna stayed with the kids, but after a while, all of the adults had drifted into my room to listen to Theo’s update me on the curse progression, or lack thereof, and discuss what to do about Zoe’s exposure to the event. Apparently, she had cornered Theo after everyone else left and manipulated him into teaching her healing magic. Part of me surged with pride at her Slytherin tendencies, but the bigger part of me warred with the fact that she felt that she needed to learn those skills now. But we had all promised Theo that we wouldn’t tell her that we knew, so I kept my mouth shut, trusting that the bastard would be able to teach her at a proper pace and not cause her to burn out.

Zoe was in the middle of describing the witch's hunt for stakes made of some specific tree bark from her story when Theo’s obnoxious voice rang through the halls, “Honey, I’m home. And I brought company.”

Zoe giggled, reaching for the bookmark and jumping up to give Theo a hug as he walked into the room, dressed in ripped jeans and a dark black t-shirt. The twins were balanced in his arms, Caspian in his right, Dahlia in his left, while Athena followed behind, close on his heels. 

Athena’s jet black hair matched her father’s in every way, curls and all. Her piercing blue eyes were the defining trait that told the world who her mother was. They were constantly searching, aware, and she often looked at people with a stare that burned straight to your core. She was short, only coming up to the bottom of Zoe’s chest, and she was very shy, inheriting none of Theo’s grandiose nature nor much of her mother’s quiet strength. Instead, she was content to be on her own, lost in a book, and tried to avoid large groups, unless Zoe was there to coax her. 

The twins, on the other hand, looked to be the spitting image of Luna. If put together, Zoe could pass as their older sister, with the stark blonde hair that was almost white. Caspian’s hair was curly, matching his mother’s, while Dahlia’s hair was shockingly straight, mimicking Zoe’s. They both had blue-green eyes that looked to be a mix of both parents. But that is where the similarities between the twins stopped. Caspian was quiet, never fussing, always content to get whatever attention he received, and never seeking more. Dahlia could not be more different. She was demanding and loved to be the center of attention, a miniature Theo if there ever was one. 

Zoe doted over her youngest cousins so much, acting as a babysitter whenever I and the other adults needed a moment to ourselves. Today was no exception. Zoe immediately reached for Caspian, pulling him into her arms and wandering back to her book, with Athena holding her other hand. They sat down and Zoe started reading again, from the beginning of the story, while Athena looked to the pages, utterly enthralled, and Caspian cooed softly.

As much as I loved my nieces and nephew, I didn’t bother to hide my confused glance at Theo for bringing the whole Nott brood to my last check-in before I was cleared. He reads the question in my eyes and chimes in, “Luna is at her girls’ day lunch. Monthly thing. Absolutely unavoidable, or so I’m told. So I have the kids by myself today. Here, hold this little flower for a second while I check your bandages.”

Theo doesn’t even bother waiting for my response before shoving the expressive little girl into my arms. Dahlia doesn’t seem bothered, and instead starts grabbing at my shirt, my hair, really anything that she can get her small hands on while she babbles incoherently. Yes, she is definitely Theo’s daughter.

The bright light from the diagnostic scan lights up the room as Theo works. Zoe stops reading, turning her head in my general direction to watch Theo work. Her eyes scan each line of runes and symbols as if she can decipher them if she just looks at them long enough. My eyes don’t leave her form, curiously taking in every aspect of Theo’s work, until Athena’s voice pulls her away, “Zoe, can you keep reading, please? I want to know what happens to the witch.”

My heart swells at the sight before me. Zoe focuses all of her attention on her cousin, unperturbed by the little boy squirming in her lap, and places one hand on Athena’s leg, rubbing small circles into the muscle as I do on Zoe’s back. Zoe’s face is placating and she looks like a mother, trying to calm her own child down. “Of course, Thea. Snuggle tight to see the pictures.” Caspian moves almost violently in her lap and Zoe catches him by the arm, tugging him back against her chest. Her tone changes, slightly, becoming a bit more chastising and she stares at the four-month-old. “Cas, you need to sit still. Otherwise, I can’t keep reading and you have to go back to Uncle Theo.”

The aforementioned Uncle lets out a soft chuckle at her words and the light from his wand soon dies down. My eyebrows raise in silent question, almost a plea, though I refuse to beg him for an answer. He simply meets my gaze, amusement evident in the way that his eyes dance. “Well, it’s official. I have performed a miracle. I’ll be accepting my reward anytime during business hours. Feel free to get on your knees and praise me at your nearest convenience.”

“Ass,” I grumble as I shoot out of bed, holding onto the small girl in my arms as I put my legs to use for the first time in a few days. Every muscle screams in protest from the disuse, but I grit my teeth and dart for Theo, my arm catching his in a light-hearted punch. 

“Dad, that’s a bad word. You can’t say those in front of the kids.” Zoe doesn’t even bother to look up from her book and cousins while she reprimands me and Theo just chuckles from my side. I lunge to hit him again, but he sees me in time to jump out of the way. Plus, I am slowed down by the baby in my arms who is fighting to crawl onto my shoulder like a parrot.

“Yeah, Drake. You know better than to use such uncouth language with the children. I should tell Pansy.” Theo’s voice is full of laughter, a stark difference from the professional way he has spoken to me since that night. I didn’t realize how much I missed his lewd jokes and sarcastic demeanor, but Merlin I hope that I never have to hear him as serious as he has been the last few days.

“You too, Uncle Theo.” This time, Zoe does turn around from her book, narrowing her eyes at her godfather in a clear battle of wills. Her eyes are practically alight with a challenge. I have to hold my own laughter in my throat, hoping that her eyes won’t turn to me as well.

“But I didn’t say anything yet, little light. That was all your . . .” Her eyes darken, just enough to prove that she’s serious and that one small movement ceases all argument. Holy shit, she looks just like Pansy. “I’ll try to do better, Zoe. Sorry.”

At that, the laughter that I was trying to hold in escapes me. Theo, a grown man, accomplished healer, and father of three, was brought to his knees by a stern eight-year-old. She is going to be a terror when she gets older. Morganna save me. 

“Well, this has been very fun Malfoys, but we have to get going.” Theo strides toward me, gently pulling Dahlia away from me, trying to keep her fingers from catching in my hair. Athena’s head shoots up from the book that Zoe is reading and her expression is nothing short of an unadulterated disappointment. Caspian just happily snuggles further into Zoe’s arms as she strokes his head with one hand, holding the book up with her other.

“But Dad. We have one more chapter left. Can we please stay?” Zoe thankfully doesn’t chime in and allows Theo to take care of his daughter’s pout on his own. Zoe knows better than to whine. It doesn’t accomplish anything and she knows better ways to get what she wants or needs. It’s just another piece of evidence for my claim that, while Zoe would certainly be sorted into Slytherin, Athena wouldn’t do well in the Snake Pit. 

“We can come back over tomorrow to finish the book, but we have a few errands to run today, remember?” She sighs, obviously frustrated by the outcome, but Zoe catches the movement and acts faster than either Theo or I could. She sets the book down, careful to keep Caspian from falling or getting smushed into her chest. Instead, she runs her hand down Athena’s arm, rubbing small circles into her hand, similar to the way that I rub her back when she is feeling down.

“I won’t read anymore without you, Thea. But I think your Dad has more important things to do. We can floo you as soon as you are done if there is time later today, but I will make sure that Dad and I don’t have anything to do tomorrow, so we can read.” 

Athena just nods, leaning into Zoe’s touch slightly, before getting up and padding over to Theo. Zoe stands, jostling Caspian a little so she can maneuver herself with only one arm, and follows the dark-haired girl. Zoe nuzzles Caspian’s neck with her nose, making him giggle, and then reluctantly hands him over to Theo’s other awaiting arm, not currently occupied by a squealing blonde who seems hell-bent on falling to the floor. Theo stoops low, placing a soft kiss on Zoe’s temple, whispering something that I can’t hear, making her chuckle softly before he stands and gives me a mock bow of his head. “Until the next time, my liege. Do try not to need my services anytime soon.”

The Nott’s exit my room to the sound of laughter from several different sources, myself included, and in almost no time at all, Zoe and I are left by ourselves once again. The silence and stillness of the room is a drastic change from a few minutes ago. We both breathe a sigh of relief at the peace in the room. I love my family, all of the Snakes, and so does Zoe, but neither of us will deny that we enjoy the quiet far more than the chaos that accompanies family get-togethers, especially with all of the kids now. 

I am torn out of my thoughts by a soft, almost timid voice. “How are you feeling, Dad? I know Uncle Theo said that you are okay, but . . . Are you?”

“I am sore, and a little tired, but I am happy to be out of bed. I would have told Uncle Theo if I didn’t feel good. I promise.”

Her stare is fierce and her eyes roam over my body as if she could scan for injuries with her sight alone. When she doesn’t seem to find anything, there is a distinct flash in her eyes and it feels like a switch has been flipped, turning her behavior on its head.

“Good! Cause you haven’t played with me at all for three days. I was very good. I followed all the rules. I didn’t even fly the whole time, so we are going to go out and play because I said so.” There is no room for disagreement, not that I was planning on saying no to her anyways. I have missed playing with her too. She has been so heavy, so melancholy the last few days, not that I can blame her, and I would do pretty much anything to keep this light in her eyes. Not to mention the fact that I want to go flying as well. Really I just want to go outside and do something outside of the Manor. I need to move and she does as well. 

“Okay, my light. Go and get changed. We can fly out to Storybook Island, so wear a few layers. I will meet you downstairs.” She glances back at me once, another quick scan with her eyes, before she darts out of the room, running to her own to change into proper flying attire. My legs are starting to tire, so I grip my wand and summon my own flying clothes to me before magicking them onto my body, too tired to do it manually. I should probably sit, but I take a few deep breaths, trying not to concentrate on the pain in my legs from disuse, and instead walk down the stairs to get the broomsticks prepared. 

A quick Tempus charm tells me that it is nearly 12:30 PM. Shit. Zoe is not going to be happy about having to wait until after lunch, but she needs to eat something. I don’t remember what she had for breakfast, or if she even ate this morning. She was in my room when I woke up this morning, but she was awake and alert as if she had been that way for a while. It’ll have to be fine. I won’t have her go out to the island on an empty stomach, especially since I am sure that she plans on being out there all day. No, we will just have to have lunch before we go anywhere.

Once she gets down the stairs, I somehow manage to convince her to eat something for lunch. She doesn’t eat much, which makes me feel uneasy. Effie has been so concerned about taking care of me and I realize, with a start, that I don’t know how much Zoe has had to eat since I came home from that mission. I barely remember her leaving my room, but she never ate with me. I shove my guilt down and try and coax her into eating a bit more before we go outside to play for a few hours.

The broom ride to the island is far slower than we usually go. My side sends little pangs of pain through my body when the broom shifts or I need to make a sharp turn. Though I try to hide them, Zoe doesn’t miss the winces and she insists on slowing down, claiming that it will be good practice to fly slow. She wants to work on her technique as if she actually needs the help. I taught her how to fly and she could easily keep up with most adults if she tried. But I relent and allow her to slow our pace until we make it to the island.

Our games are a bit more subdued than normal, my movements stilted and awkward, not the graceful ease that I usually possess. With an uneasy precision, Zoe catches each labored breath, each wince, each pang of pain, and almost bullies me into submission. In the end, we both give up trying to play our normal rambunctious games and instead lay on the grass, watching the clouds fly past our eyes. 

The silence is comfortable, relaxing even, as we sit on our island, oblivious to the world around us. If only I could bottle this moment and keep it playing forever. If only she could be this safe for the rest of her life. I would trade anything to never give this up. But the world seems to have other ideas.

The chill, November wind picks up on our exposed land, biting into our skin. I had cast a few Warming Charms over us, but they are wearing off now, and Zoe shivers into my shoulder, pressing into my own warmth. I kiss her hair and brush some of her longer strands away from her face, peering down at her small frame. “How about we go inside and get something warm to drink? Pumpkin cider? We can warm up while Effie gets supper ready.”

“Fine, but no pumpkin cider. Hot chocolate is way better.” She pushes off of me quickly, patting my arm in a false punch with absolutely no sting, and then she turns to run back to the brooms laying on the grass a few yards away. “Race you back home.”

I am on my feet in an instant, moving after her, the pain is momentarily forgotten. I reach her a fraction of a second before she would have reached her broom and grab her from behind, throwing her over my shoulder. Her giggles echo through the air and I spin once in a full circle before putting her down and hopping on my own broom. I take off before her, but make sure to look back to check her progress as she mounts her own broom and races toward me. My side is starting to scream in protest again, but I don’t care. I push myself to go a bit faster, just to stay a little ahead of her across the pond, but she surprises me, putting on a sudden burst of speed and barrelling past me. 

I am panting like a dog by the time I make it back to the Manor and Zoe is waiting for me on the ground, grinning like a leprechaun. “You’re so slow, Dad. Are you getting too old for races?” The smirk on her face is eerily reminiscent of the one that crosses my own from time to time. Our laughs are genuine and loud, cutting through the noises of varying animals running around the ground.

As we are getting ready to go back into the Manor, after locking our brooms up in the shed outside, I feel a tug in my gut and a pang in my chest. Zoe turns to me before I can say anything and looks at me, panic threatening to break through her tightly controlled features. “Dad, do you feel that? What is that feeling? In my belly?”

She can sense the wards? She shouldn’t be able to do that until I give overall hereditary rights to the property. Never mind. I can unpack this revelation later. Now, I need to figure out why someone is outside my wards. Merlin’s hairy ball sack. This place feels more like a revolving door of people than the isolated home I had hoped for. I try to focus all of my attention on Zoe, needing to protect her against whatever might be out there. My knee hits the ground in front of her, putting me at eye level as I grasp her hands in mine, rubbing circles into the back of her hands with my thumbs. “That’s just the wards, sweetheart. We can talk about them a bit more tonight, but for right now I need you to go up to your room and wait there with Effie until I send for you. Do you understand?”

Zoe’s eyes are wary, the panic still bubbling just under the surface, but she nods her head and walks back toward the house, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to lock eyes with me. Once she is inside, I release the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding and focus my magic on the Manor itself, sensing where she is. When she reaches her room, I flick my wand a few times, erecting the protection wards around her room, hoping that Effie made it inside in time. 

With Zoe safely tucked away, I stride towards the gate, conscious of how I take each step. I can’t show weakness or pain, especially with an unknown person outside of the wards. Each step towards the gate makes the feeling in my chest explode like it is reaching for the person outside the wards. Shit! Shit! Shit! My magic has only ever done that with one person. But I don’t feel more than one person outside. And she has never come here without another agenda. She can’t possibly know about the outcome of the raid. I haven’t turned in my paperwork yet, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell her about it in a letter. Or ever tell her about it if I am honest. Why would she be here? This makes no sense. 

Relax. I need to relax and breathe. She can’t know that anything is wrong. A war breaks out in my body between my heart and my mind, one wanting to run to the gates to determine what is wrong and the other wary about the sudden appearance of the Gryffindor Princess on a Saturday. My mind wins out for the moment, and I grit my teeth to keep my feet moving at a comfortable pace, the walk that I swagger about with in public. 

I see her first as the gate comes into view. Her hair, though mildly contained, looks like it exploded behind her head. From a distance, I am reminded of just how small she is compared to the grand opulence of my home. She looks frail, almost fragile against the thick metal bars preventing her from coming any further. The wards hold, and she doesn’t see me until I am within range to see her chocolate brown eyes, alight with a fury that I was only able to provoke when I blatantly insulted a creature that she was determined to save. Her magic is sparking around her in an angry cloud of blue and purple, lighting the ends of her hair like a child having an accidental magic outburst.

I want nothing more than to bury my hand in those curls, to pull her full, darkly pink lips against mine and reveal every secret I have ever held against her. To push her onto my bed and find out what sounds would leave her mouth as she is . . . 

No. Stop that now! I shake my head a few times, trying to clear away the images racing through my mind. I can’t afford that distraction right now, especially when she looks like this. She is married, you idiot. Get those thoughts out of your head and do it now. 

I let the visual wards drop at the last second, revealing my figure to her only once I am sure that my features will not reveal any of my feelings about her sudden appearance. She doesn’t look surprised at my sudden materialization. No, she just locks her predatory gaze onto me, the hunter stalking her prey. I swallow the lump in my throat, praying that she didn’t catch the motion before gaining my composure enough to drawl, “I believe business hours ended yesterday at 5 PM. Why, exactly, are you here?”

She meets my gaze, holding it in challenge before her angelic voice cuts through the space, “You have some serious explaining to do and I am not leaving until I am satisfied with your answers.” Straightforward and to the point, though I have no idea what she is talking about. She couldn’t possibly know what happened after the raid. I haven’t sent my vacation notice into the office yet, and Theo would not have told anyone outside of the Snake Gang, understanding the deadly impact a story like this could have on my reputation.

“I told you before, and I will tell you again, if you wish to interrogate me, you shouldn’t have come to my home. There is nothing you can do to enter or make me leave, so”

“I know about what happened on Wednesday.” 

Her statement throws me completely off balance. How did she find out? What does she know? Who has she told? Each question slams into the forefront of my mind, the impact as hard as hitting the ground when falling off a broom. I hope and pray that all of my years of burying my emotions don’t fail me and that she can’t see how viscerally her words have impacted me. That pang in my chest sounds again and I have to resist the urge to press my hand into my chest if only to relieve some of the pressure. 

I don’t even know what to do. On the one hand, I could make her stay out there, answer her questions, and hope that she drops it. But then I would be stuck out here until her curiosity was sated, which is not likely to be a short chat. My muscles are already screaming in protest from the flying, the playing, and the prolonged standing after so many days in bed. On the other hand, I could invite her inside. But that would mean that I would expose Zoe to another adult for the first time. She has never seen or interacted with anyone outside of the Snake Gang and passing employees and Granger never knows when to leave well enough alone. I would at least be able to introduce them on my terms. It’s not as if Granger doesn’t know that Zoe exists. 

After a twinge of pain flutters through my back, I concede, flicking my wand to allow the gates to swing open. “Come on then, Granger. I am not going to stand outside all night and freeze my arse off, though you are welcome to if you wish.” I don’t look back to see if she is following me. No, I can feel her behind me, watching my every step, scanning my body in the same manner that Zoe has been all day, like she can see injuries just by staring hard enough.

The gates swing shut and I make a beeline for the door, not slowing my stride as I reach the large oak panels, flicking my wand again to open them. I turn around, prepared to give Granger a minute to process her surroundings. My mind drags me back to the last time she was in this home.

The dark, curly hair frames her delicate face in a cruel mask. Aunt Bellatrix is laughing, the sound eerie and haunting as she sits on top of Granger, drinking in her screams.

Crucio!

Granger’s body is thrashing, limbs flailing about completely unbidden. The thread in my chest twinges painfully, but Mother’s hand remains on my shoulder, holding me back from her. A tendril of my power wraps around the center of Granger’s mind, hoping to preserve it from the worst of the curse, even if she doesn’t realize that I am doing it.

“I didn’t take anything! I swear. I’ve never been in your vault.” She is sobbing now, heart-wrenching sobs that wrack her whole body. 

Bellatrix doesn’t care. Instead, she just draws a blade from her robes. The blade with that curse on it. My mouth is moving before I can fully process what I am doing, the counter-curse leaving me on a whim. The screams begin again, drowning out all other sounds, even the sound of my own heartbeat as Bellatrix carves into her arm.

Blood. So much blood. I can’t look away. All I can do is keep muttering the counter-curse, hoping that it will be enough to keep the curse from eating away at her magical core. I must protect her. I have to protect her.

“Malfoy!” Her voice rips me from the memory and brings me back to the present, where I have unwittingly taken her into the kitchen, a room that is never meant for guests. Oh, how Mother would chide me if she saw my hosting skills now, not that I have had any practice for the last eight years.

“Look, Granger. You interrupted my night and you obviously have a whole list of questions running through that big brain of yours, but we were about to have dinner, so you will just have to wait until we are done, or leave and get your answers when I return to work.” It is a simple enough proposition, one that I believe I know the answer to, but I can’t help but feel like my world hinges on her decision at this moment. I don’t even know if I want her to stay or leave, but I hold my breath just the same.

“Malfoy, this is important. I need you to answer -” 

“I’m going to guess that you found out sometime today and you have been working nonstop to find answers from any other source since then. Which likely means that you haven’t had much to eat. So, you are going to sit, you are going to eat dinner with my daughter and me. You are not going to even allude to any sort of incident while in her presence. Then, when she is done, and I deem it an appropriate time, you may ask any and all of the questions that you have, but I won’t answer any questions if you can’t do that.” My stare is hard, challenging, begging for her to pick a fight, but silently hoping that she will agree. I try to keep my face in a hard mask of general unfeeling, but my heart races at the thought of Granger eating dinner with my daughter. 

She seems to ponder my ultimatum for a few seconds. I can practically see the steam pouring from her ears as her brain considers my statement and how badly she wants to know the details of what happened to me. I don’t offer her anything to grasp, instead allowing her the freedom to make the choice on her own.

“Fine. But I am holding you to your offer to answer all of my questions. I will be here all night if that’s what it takes.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, attempting to be intimidating no doubt. She ends up looking like a petulant child told that they couldn’t have their way. I should know. I have dealt with that look for years now, though it looks different on Granger. 

I shouldn’t provoke her. I shouldn’t flirt with her. I shouldn’t try to rile her up, but dammit if she didn’t give me the perfect line on a silver platter. Never one to pass up an opportunity, I walk towards her, stalking a bit. She backs up until she is pressed into the countertop. Her chest is heaving and her breathing unsteady, but she doesn’t look away from me for a heartbeat. I lean down, my mouth next to her ear, and whisper, my voice low, “If you wanted to stay the night with me, all you had to do was ask Granger.” 

Whether involuntarily or not, she lets out a soft whimper at my words and her knees buckle a bit before she catches herself against the counter. Then, as fast as I cornered her, I back up and stride back across the kitchen as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She is flushed, her hair expanded even more and her breathing is still heavy. I can feel something stirring in my gut, and I have to look away. She looks utterly kissable, utterly ruined, and if I continue to stare at her as I have been, I’m liable to make even more of a mess of this than I already have.

“Effie,” I call for my elf, who appears with a soft pop next to my side. Her attention is immediately drawn to the woman still pressed against the countertops before her eyes flash back to mine, something akin to recognition in her gaze. I’ll definitely be hearing about whatever revelation Effie made later, but now, I need to get dinner started, so Granger can get through her interrogation and Zoe and I can be alone again. I’m too distracted with Granger here. I need her to leave before I do something stupid. Thankfully, the two other occupants of the Manor should provide good buffers until the questioning begins.

“What can Effie do for Master?” Her ears flap in annoyance, likely at the fact that I interrupted her dinner preparations to have her babysit Zoe for a few minutes. Now she probably thinks that I simply called her to keep Zoe occupied while I had a female visitor. Oh, I will definitely be hearing about this later.

“I am going to go get Zoe. Would you continue working on dinner and entertain our guest? She will be joining us for dinner.” 

“If that’s not too much trouble. Don’t overwork yourself on my account.” Granger sounds put out, but Effie either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. 

“It is no problem, Miss. Effie will show you the dining room, while Master goes to get the Little Mistress.” Effie’s eyes roam over Granger, looking for something. She wasn’t hesitant when mentioning Zoe, likely taking the cue from my casual mention of her a few moments ago, but she still looks wary. Regardless, Effie grabs one of Granger’s hands and starts pulling the stunned woman into the formal dining hall, likely already set in the time that it took for us to speak.

I allow myself to linger for just a moment before turning in the opposite direction and heading for the stairs. My mind is racing with concerns, questions, and images of how tonight will play out. But I manage to look unhurried and unbothered as I walk towards Zoe’s room.

I take a quick detour to my chambers to grab a pain potion, quickly throwing it back as the agony in my side dulls to a low throb. With my pain momentarily assuaged, I continue on toward Zoe’s room, waving my wand to dismantle the protective wards. It takes only a few seconds after the wards dropped for Zoe to come bounding out of her room, barrelling into my legs and wrapping them in a tight squeeze. She doesn’t give me time to return her hug before she pulls away, scanning me for any injuries. This is going to be an annoying habit if she keeps it up.

“Who was at the gate? My tummy still feels funny. Are they inside? Why is someone here? They didn’t hurt you did they?” Her grey eyes are alight with fury at the mere thought of someone coming to our home and hurting me. My heart swells at the surge of protectiveness evident in her gaze.

“I am fine, my light. But there is someone who is here. Do you remember Miss Granger, from work?” I am on my knee now, trying to maintain eye contact with Zoe, pleading with her to understand.

“Yeah. She is your boss, the super smart lion.” She puffs her chest out a little at that fact, proud for remembering. 

“Yes, she is and she has some questions for me after dinner.” I let my statement hang in the air. If I wasn’t speaking as a snake, I would add more detail, but Zoe needs to be prepared for the slight suggestions, the subtle implications, the subtext involved in every conversation. Pansy has done most of that training, but I can’t help when the opportunity presents itself, to at least test how well she handles things like that.

“I should probably change then. Wait for me, please?” She bounds back into her room, and the sound of hangers rustling and shoes dropping reaches my ears. I hope she doesn’t wear something too formal, though knowing Pansy, she probably has had pureblood etiquette ingrained into her psyche. 

When Zoe reappears a few minutes later, she is not fully bedecked in a formal gown, instead, she is wearing a flowy, mint green long sleeve top that flares at the elbows and falls past her hips. This is paired with a pair of stark white pants, reminiscent of those Muggle jeans that Granger is wearing. Zoe doesn’t look to me for permission or even my opinion, confident in her choice as she strides over to me.

“No sliding down the banister today, Dad. Best behavior, since we have people over.” Her seriousness catches me a bit off-guard, but I swallow my retort and simply let my daughter lead me toward the formal dining room.

Proper etiquette would dictate that the Lady of the house leads the Lord into the dining room, allowing the Lord the privilege of being the last to enter, the most important order. We never follow those strict rules, not when we are alone, but Zoe knows them regardless. Years of training doesn’t leave a person, and each of her aunts and uncles have worked to make her the little Lady that she is. And so, I find myself trailing after Zoe at a respectable distance as she walks into the dining room, chin held high, walking with such grace that she looks to be floating. Her face is calm and composed, but her eyes give her away. They are bright with her trademark curiosity, taking in every feature and mannerism that Granger possesses. I wonder if Granger knows how thoroughly she is being assessed right now. With the way that she is slouching and hasn’t stood up from her seat across the room, I don’t believe that she is. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. My name is Zowena Malfoy. I hope that you find our home to your liking.” Zoe curtsies, low, and inclines her head toward Granger who just sits, stunned at the display before her.

I pull Zoe’s chair out for her, allowing her the time to sit before pushing the chair back into the table and moving on to sit in my own. A few moments pass of stilted silence, Granger clearly confused by whatever she is seeing, Zoe unwilling to speak out of turn in front of company but assessing Granger regardless. I am simply in awe of what’s going on. Granger is here and at the same table as my daughter.

I should say something, should end this awkwardness, but instead, I just sit back observing how the two witches size the other up. Zoe looks back and forth between Granger and me, a clear question in her eyes, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she frowns, her lips pulling into a tight line before she turns back to Granger and ends the silence for me.

“Am I interrupting your guys’ date?”

The whole room takes a collective inhale, Granger taken aback by Zoe’s uncharacteristic bluntness and the subject of the question. I don’t move from my relaxed position at the head of the table and study Granger’s response, as my daughter is doing. I have to fight to keep a chuckle from leaving my lips. This is going to be an interesting dinner.

Chapter Text

Zoe

November 8, 2007

She doesn’t look very smart. Actually, she looks kind of dumb. I can tell what she is thinking on her face and she doesn’t try to hide any of her emotions. I heard her yelling at Dad in the kitchen earlier. A lady should never yell like that. Well, a lady can sometimes yell like that, but she sounded like Aunt Pans does when Dad does something wrong. But Aunt Pans is family and she isn’t. So she shouldn’t be yelling, especially not at Dad.

She is smaller than I thought she would be. Dad talks about her a lot. He always makes her seem like a hero from one of my stories, like the princess who fights dragons. But she just looks small. I don’t think that Dad’s stories are all right. They can’t be. Otherwise, she would be better at presenting herself. Aunt Pans says that it’s super important to present your best self, even if you have to hide parts of yourself to do that. People will always say mean things about you, so you can’t give them another reason to say mean things. I don’t think that she knows this rule. Her clothes are Muggle and they look messy. Uncle Z and Aunt Pans would be horrified. Her hair is crazy like she hasn’t used any charms or potions to make it look pretty. I would never go anywhere if my hair looked like that. She also isn’t wearing any jewelry except for a small ring on her left hand. It must be her wedding ring. But that doesn’t make sense cause her husband is the bad man that Dad and I saw at dinner last week. Dad said that he was going to tell her and she shouldn’t stay married to someone if they have kids with someone else.

I know that Dad is watching me. I can feel his eyes on me, but I want to find out everything I can about her before I look back at him. He never invites visitors to the Manor, definitely not to stay for dinner. I haven’t even met Mr. Potter, even though he comes over a lot. Dad always tells me to go up to my room when he is here, so what is different about her? Why do I get to meet her? Why is she having dinner with us? Her hands are fidgeting under the table. That isn’t a good thing to do. It means that you are nervous and you should never show someone new that you are nervous around them.

I wonder if Dad noticed her fidgeting too. I steal a look at Dad. He is staring at both of us, a knowing look in his eyes. He knows that I am watching her, trying to figure out everything I can about her, but he isn’t saying anything. When his eyes aren’t on me, they are on her, but he isn’t looking at her like I am. No, he has a sparkle in his eyes, kinda like the sparkle when he looks at me. That’s weird too. Dad doesn’t like anybody and he says that his eyes only sparkle cause he loves me so much.

Wait! Does Dad like her? Dad always talks about her. She is in every story that Dad tells me from work. He is always going on and on about how smart she is, how good she is at organizing his missions, all of the spells that she knows. He even called her beautiful once when he thought that I was reading and not listening. Dad really doesn’t like her husband. He gets angry whenever he talks about that man. I think I remember him saying that she deserves someone better. Not to mention the fact that Dad trusts her around me. We never eat out in the dining room. It is only if we are trying to impress someone, but we don’t have anyone to impress. 

Oh, Merlin! Dad likes her. That’s the only reason she could be here. That has to be right. Maybe that is why she is nervous, cause she thought that it was just going to be her and Dad. I bet that Dad didn’t get a chance to tell her about him getting hurt, so he forgot to cancel his date for tonight. Then she was mad when she came over cause they never come over here. But Dad definitely likes her. That’s not good. She was just married. You can’t date someone who was just married. That is wrong and Dad doesn’t do things that are wrong. 

My focus is firmly on Dad now. He lifts one eyebrow up, probably sensing that I know something, but he looks curious. I bet he didn’t think I would figure out this secret. But he never hides things from me. Oh, this is so confusing. And no one is talking. Why isn’t he saying anything? The Lord is always supposed to start the conversation. She isn’t saying anything either. This is awkward and weird and I hate it, but I need to be smart. She is a lion, at least that’s what Dad told me about her. Uncle Z says that lions are not very sneaky. They are loud and they are blunt, so you need to talk straight to a lion. The best way to get someone to talk to you is to talk like them. Well, here goes nothing, I guess.

“Am I interrupting your guys’ date?”

I look at Dad first. He is good at keeping his emotions hidden, especially in front of other people, but when he is surprised, Uncle Theo says that you can tell. Turns out, Uncle Theo is right. Dad’s mask drops for just a second and pure shock shows in his every feature before he realizes his mistake and starts grinning at me. I grin back and then turn my attention toward Miss Granger.

She looks like she just got sprayed with bubotuber pus. Her mouth is open wide and her eyes flash with panic and surprise. It’s kind of funny to watch. If I was alone, I would probably let her sit like that until she got comfy enough to start talking again, but Dad is nice to her, probably trying to impress her, and starts talking in her place.

“Zoe, you know better than to begin a conversation like that.” If anyone else said those words, I’d probably be in trouble, but Dad sounds happy, almost giggly and I know that he is mostly saying this for Her benefit.

“Sorry, Dad. It is nice to have visitors for dinner. We don’t get to entertain people very often. Thanks for accepting Dad’s invitation. Oh, also, I forgot to mention that you should never call me Zowena. Ever! Only Zoe. Now, are you going to answer my question?”

Her face hasn’t changed, even a little. Actually, she looks more confused and panicked now than she did a second ago. Her eyes are going back and forth between Dad and I. She really needs to learn how to hide her feelings. Bad people would use them against her. Dad should teach her. Or Aunt Pans. Definitely Aunt Pans, she’s the best.

Miss Granger’s mouth opens and closes a few times like she doesn’t know what to say before she finally starts to speak. “No, sweetheart. I am not on a date with your father.”

She looks at Dad while she talks, so I focus on how she sounds. She was talking kinda slow and she didn’t use any big words, but something still bothered me about the way she said it like I wouldn’t understand. Or like I was too dumb to know better. But I do know better. And I am the smartest Malfoy ever. Dad says so all the time. 

Before I can say anything else, dinner pops onto the table, startling Miss Granger. Neither Dad nor I blink at the sudden appearance of food. Effie made my favorite, lamb stew, and her special spiced bread. She won’t tell me what’s on it, but it is the best stuff ever.

Dad makes my plate, while I focus on Miss Granger. She is watching us like we are the weird ones, her eyes almost seeming confused at the way that Dad is taking care of me. That’s his job as my Dad and as Lord of the manor. It will be his job until I am married and take the title as Lady Malfoy. 

“Would you like me to fix you a plate as well, Granger?” Dad’s hand is hovering over a serving spoon, ready to grab for it and fill the next bowl, but Miss Granger huffs at him. Actually huffs at Dad for using proper dinner etiquette. I don’t think I like her very much.

“I am perfectly capable of serving myself, Malfoy. I don’t need you or any elves to do it for me.” 

Nope. I definitely don’t like her. No one is rude to Dad and Effie and gets away with it. No one. Dad probably won’t like what I am about to say, but Aunt Pans is gonna be super proud.

I try to remember how Aunt Pans sounds when she wants to insult someone, but not be mean about it. She sounds like she is telling them that they are pretty or smart, but she is really saying something mean. I hope that I do it right. “Miss Granger, my Dad would never doubt your capabilities, just your sensibilities.” 

Dad’s eyes are icy, angry even. Miss Granger probably doesn’t even know what I meant, but that’s okay. I don’t have to be nice to her anyway. She was mean to Effie, mean to Dad, and she has just looked at me like I was crazy this whole time. I just wish that dinner would be over so she would leave.

“Zoe, that is enough. You know better. Now I expect to act like the Lady of this household since I know you know how to.” Dad keeps staring at me and I hate it. My eyes drop to the table, a sure sign that I lost whatever battle of wills Dad and I might have had. I don’t care. I just don’t want to look up at him and see disappointment. 

“I’m sorry Dad.” A quick glance up shows me Dad’s pointed stare, “And to you Miss Granger.”

“That’s alright, Zoe. I didn’t mean to offend.” She seems a little softer now, but I still don’t trust her. I think she just feels bad cause I got yelled at over her. Good. She should feel bad.

For a few minutes, we all just eat in silence, nothing like dinners usually are. When Dad works late and I am visiting the cousins, dinners are always loud cause the babies start crying when they are hungry and Luc is always talking. Always. When it’s just Dad and I, we usually talk about our day and tell each other every detail. Not tonight. This is quite like no one wants to talk and make everyone mad again. 

I hate it.

Guess it’s gonna be up to me again to start the conversation, but I don’t know much about Miss Granger except what Dad told me. He hasn’t told me much, but something is bothering me, so I am gonna get the answers I want before she leaves. I probably won’t get another chance with the way that tonight has gone already.

“When did you change your name back, Miss Granger?” A clang of metal sounds throughout the room and I turn to look back at Dad. He dropped his spoon into his bowl and is now looking at me with horror in his eyes. I can’t figure out why.

“I am not sure what you mean, Zoe. I have never changed my name.” Her slow voice is back. Merlin, I hate that voice.

“Granger, fair warning, my daughter is not one to be condescended to. It will only end poorly for you.” Dad drawls from the other end of the table. I’m gonna have to look up condescended in a dictionary later, but for now, I want answers.

“But, you were married, so you had to change your name. Those are the rules because you do not have a title to inherit.” 

I can almost see the questions in her eyes, but she only asks me one, “Honey, why do you think that I am not married?”

“Are you?” A question for a question. That way, I can still get the information that I want. 

“Yes, I am still married.”

I can’t believe it. After everything Dad and I saw, I was sure that she wouldn’t stay married. At the very least, she would’ve fought with him. She has to know everything cause Dad said that he was going to tell her about it and he always keeps his promises. 

“You are still married to the mean Weasel? Wow, I wouldn’t want to do that.”

There is a screech and a thud from Dad’s seat. It looks like he tried to scoot his chair away from the table to stand up, but he banged his knee instead. Miss Granger is still looking at me with surprise on her face. 

“Zoe, that’s enough.” Dad is glaring at me, which is weird. He never does that. His eyes shift to Miss Granger. “Sorry Granger, she is normally much more well-behaved.”

“But Dad, why would she still be with him after - ”

“I said, that’s enough!” His voice isn’t loud. No, Dad never yells at me. Instead, his voice is scary calm, the kind of voice that he uses at work. The voice he used at Diagon Alley. I hate this voice. It means I did something wrong, but I haven’t done anything wrong. 

“After what?” Both Dad and I turn to look at her. Her eyebrows are raised and she is looking between the two of us. Maybe she is better at reading people than I thought. She must just be bad at hiding herself.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Granger. Not now anyway.” 

She doesn’t know. Dad hasn’t told her yet. That has to be why she didn’t answer my question. Dad did say it was a busy week at work. And he hasn’t talked to her at all for the last couple of days. I know cause I stopped all of his mail before he could open it. But,

 “Dad, you promised that you were going to tell her.”

“Tell me what, Malfoy!” Her voice isn’t scary calm. No, her voice is loud and harsh. She is almost yelling and her hair is sparking. She looks so mad like there is a fire in her eyes. I don’t even want to know how Dad looks right now. The adults have never been mad at me at the same time. Never. Uncle Theo is always proud of me and Uncle Z never looks angry. But right now, all of them are mad at me and I don’t understand why. I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe if I tell her everything, they will stop being mad at me cause then Dad won’t have told her and she will know everything.

“Dad was gonna tell you that Mr. Weasel was at Diagon Alley with his kids and a rude lady named Lav last weekend, but he had a busy week at work and he was hurt so he had to stay home for a few days. He didn’t want you to worry because of that bad werewolf, but he answered all the questions and is in jail now. Also, Dad is all better according to Uncle Theo, so he can tell you more now if you wish.”

Silence envelopes the room. Not like when we were eating. No, that silence was just uncomfy, like we were all confused about how we should be together. This feels worse. This feels like someone just let off a curse in the middle of the room. I want to hide under the table, away from Dad’s stares and Miss Granger’s questions that will inevitably come for me. 

“Malfoy, is this true?” This is scary calm, so quiet that I barely heard it, but it’s there. Dad looks defeated. I want to scream at her for making him feel this way. It’s not his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong. But she is making him feel awful for no good reason.

Dad doesn’t say anything, he just nods his head slowly but deliberately. For a second, she doesn’t answer. When she finally gets ready to answer, Dad just holds up a hand, cutting her off, “Granger, I promised answers after dinner, my offer still holds. Just not in front of her, okay?”

They both look at me and I have to fight to keep my arms at my sides. Ladies don’t cross their arms when they are frustrated. I just want to know what’s going on. Why is everything a secret? Why did she really come to dinner? Why does Dad seem to care about what she thinks? Why is she looking at Dad like a hard puzzle that she wants to figure out? It’s so frustrating.

“Zoe, my light, are you finished with dinner?” It’s not a real question. He knows that I am done or I wouldn’t have started to talk like I was. But, he also knows that I won’t ask to be excused, not when he is clearly keeping secrets from me. He’s breaking our rule. No more secrets. 

“Effie hasn’t brought out the dessert course and it would be rude of me to leave the table early.” That wasn’t a very good excuse. Dad can easily squirm out of that one. This sucks.

“Effie didn’t prepare a dessert course for tonight. You are excused. I will be up later to say goodnight.” He can’t say that he will tuck me in and maybe even let me snuggle with him later cause she’s here. Those words have to go unspoken.

My own voice feels small now and I am whispering, my words meant only for him to hear. “No more secrets, Dad. You promised.” He always keeps his promises. So why is he kicking me out now? I just don’t get it. 

What’s so special about her that she makes him break his promises?

“And I will keep my promise, my light. I will tell you everything in the morning, but tonight I need to speak to Miss Granger. Alone.” His eyes are pleading with me to obey him and his next words are spoken only in my mind.

Please, my light. I swear on Cassiopeia that I will tell you soon.

I nod, in answer, and hop off of my chair. Slowly, trying to be graceful, I walk over to Dad, hugging his middle tightly. He leans down and kisses the top of my head, holding onto me a second longer than we are supposed to in public, but I guess that this isn’t public. 

When we let go of each other, I take a step back from the table and drop into a neat curtesy. “Until we meet again, Miss Granger.” That’s how Aunt Pans say to leave a dinner. Always polite. Always use the proper title. I hope that I did it right. 

“It was very nice to meet you, Zoe.” She sounds sincere. It’s the first time all night that she has been a really good actress. Dad thought that I was being mean, she probably did too. But she is still pretending like she enjoyed dinner. I will give her one point for this, I guess. 

I don’t respond to her. That’s not how this is done. Instead, I just turn around and leave the dining room. As soon as I am out of view, I sprint up to my room, ready to hold Bruce. I change into one of Dad’s old t-shirts, a huge silver one with a green snake on the front. Slytherin colors, before collapsing on my bed, hugging Bruce tight to my chest. Merlin, I hope that Dad doesn’t stay mad at me for long and that he tells me what’s going on.

I feel so confused. I am angry, sad, and scared and I have done a really good job at hiding it all night. But now, all alone in my room, I don’t try to stop the tears that are streaming down my face. Dad has never been that angry and I just want this whole dinner to go away. Actually, I want the last few days to disappear so Dad never got hurt. Then, Miss Granger wouldn’t be here and Dad would never be mad and everything would go back to the way it was before. 

Draco

Merlin. How did everything go so wrong, so fast? I should’ve known something was going to go wrong when I saw that glint of mischief in Zoe’s stare. I knew that Zoe was assessing Granger, could tell by the way that Zoe studied each of Granger’s features and Granger’s responses to everything that was being said. For a few seconds, I could see Pansy peeking out from behind Zoe’s silver eyes. But, I never imagined that Zoe would get so frustrated, or that she would just blurt out what we saw Ron doing. I knew it bothered her, but I didn’t think that she would ever see Granger, much less get a chance to tell her anything. 

Gods, the look on her face when she realized that I hadn’t yet fulfilled my promise. I had worked so hard the last week or so to erase that look from her face, the look of disappointment. My heart twists violently as the image dances around my mind. I can’t even go to her. Not while Granger is still here and another promise bids me stay. 

The impatient brunette sitting across from me is practically spewing fire. Her hair is still sparking and the fire in her eyes hasn’t dimmed since Zoe left the room. I barely touched my food, too consumed by the uncomfortable silence to even try and savor Effie’s stew. With the way that my stomach is roiling right now, I am thankful for my inability to eat at all tonight.

In the span of an hour, I have managed to insult the woman that I want more than anything, show terrible anger to my daughter, and just generally wreck everything that I had been trying to restore since that fucker came up to Zoe and I after dinner. I have so many things that I need to fix now and I don’t even know where to begin. Granger chooses for me.

“Were you ever going to tell me, or just gossip about me to your daughter? Not surprising since she is your carbon copy. Just like you when you were that age.” She is barely sitting still, all of her pent-up frustration bubbling, barely contained in her frame. 

I should be more concerned about how angry she is. I have seen the consequences of her anger up close and personal, my nose still gets twinges of pain occasionally from the poorly healed fracture she caused so many years ago. Instead, I focus on the fact that she decided to insult Zoe. I know exactly what she thinks of my past, exactly what she means by claiming that Zoe is “just like me” when we were little. After the entirety of dinner, I had hoped that Granger would like Zoe, that they would get along, that at least one part of merging those two portions of my life would be easy. How naive was I?

“You want to direct your anger somewhere that isn’t your piece of shit husband for the moment? Fine! Be pissed at me. Scream at me. Hit me again for all I care. But don’t you dare direct it at my daughter, who has done nothing to earn your ire. You don’t get to insult her in my presence. Ever.” My gaze is steely and I have to fight to keep from building occlumency walls in my mind. The urge is so powerful that I almost break, almost cave. I feel the first brick fall in my head before I have a chance to tear it away.

Thankfully, for the first time all night, a flash of recognition or even respect flashes through Granger’s eyes. I don’t know what phrase triggered this response, but something that I said cowed her pride, if only for a moment. In an instant, all of the fight in her posture leaks away, leaving her in a heap at the table across from me.

The tears hit her before I can stand up, but I feel them. I feel each tear fall, and the chasm in my chest expands painfully, tugging at me to go and comfort her. To kiss away each tear. To take away the source of all of her sadness. 

Dammit! The bond is stronger now, and I know that I should fight it. I should tell her to leave and let the bond fade away again, but I can’t bring myself to do that. The tug intensifies and I glance in the direction of the stairs before making my decision.

My feet move, a bit unbidden, across the floor until I am directly next to her chair. In one deft movement, I push the chair around, turning it so that I am kneeling in front of her. 

Merlin, she is so small. I forget how small she is sometimes, but now, with me on my knees in front of her, she looks tiny. We are almost eye-level in this position. The moment drags on for a long moment, more intimate than it has any right to be. I should pull away. She is still married after all. 

But I promised myself that I wouldn’t leave her to fight alone again. And that is the only way to classify this: a fight against the love that she feels for him and the information she just learned about him. Zoe may have said everything very fast, in a concise manner that showed how little she truly understood the situation, but any adult would be able to piece together the information. Granger did it in record time.

My hand, almost detached from my mind, reaches up to her face, gently brushing across her cheek, collecting tears as it goes. She doesn’t flinch away, so I take that as a sign of encouragement and bring my other hand up to do the same on the opposite side of her face. This time, she actually leans into the hand caressing her skin. The tears stop though her body is still wracked with silent sobs, she doesn’t pull away from me. 

Her skin is so soft, with a slight tan that makes my own skin look ghost-like. A jolt of something, magic or sparks or something, rushes along every place that our skin touches. If I closed my eyes, I have no doubt that I would be able to see the string connecting us stretching before me, but I keep my eyes trained on the witch before me, allowing my heart to feel what I can’t see. 

“Tell me everything.” She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t need to. I know what she means. I should start talking, but I am struck by the raw pain in her chocolate eyes. They are practically swimming with ghosts, memories that I don’t know, emotions that I can’t quite place. She looks lost. But the thought that thunders through me, more than anything else, is the fact that she is trusting me. Trusting me, at this moment, to tell her everything, to not leave out any detail, and to protect her as best I can while I do that. This is a level of trust that I have worked to earn for years but never thought that I would deserve.

Without taking my eyes off of her, I drop my hands, reaching for my wand. One flick summons my chair from the other side of the table. I drop into it, rather unceremoniously, before leaning back, settling myself, steeling myself.

“I don’t know much, Granger. Only what I saw.” The anger and pain that was evident in my voice only a few minutes ago have seeped away. Now I just sound raw, exposed.

“Please” Her voice is so soft, barely even a whisper. My chest cracks, the tug getting stronger, but I shove it down, trying to cover it with bricks from my mind.

“Last weekend, after Halloween, Zoe and I went out to dinner at Paradiso, the new Italian restaurant. Our table was in a private room with a one-way, full-length window on one wall. Zoe and I decided to do some people-watching after dinner. While we were sitting there, the Weas-, I mean Weasley, stopped in front of the window with another woman.”

“It took me a moment to remember her, but it was that cow that he had his face plastered to for most of sixth year. Laventia. No, that’s not right. Lavender. Yes, that’s it. Lavender. They were arguing about his presence at some party when two children ran up to the adults. They were carbon copies of him, mannerisms included. The oldest even referred to him as Dad. I didn’t get many more details, as they walked away and I was not about to start asking them questions, but I do know that they referred to you and dinner with your parents.”

“I had fully intended on telling you, but this week was so hectic. I wanted to make sure that we were alone, but there were people in and out of your office all week. I could barely get a word in, much less alone. I had hoped that I would get a chance when I came in on Monday next week, but, well, I had a rather tumultuous time the last few days.”

I haven’t dropped my gaze yet. I need to see her reactions, but as I sit here watching her realize that her husband was not faithful, a part of me shatters alongside her. There is such unfathomable sorrow displayed across her features, but underneath all of that is a tinge of happiness. No, not happiness, more like contentment. Like acceptance. As if she expected something like this. Damn me to hell if my heart doesn’t jump at the idea that she might not have as deep feelings for the fucking Weasel as she let on.

It takes her a few moments, but no more tears fall. No, now she just seems more determined to spill no more tears. When she sorts through the thoughts crowding her mind, she takes a deep breath in, gulping air like she hadn’t tasted it in years. “That’s not everything, Malfoy.” 

She can’t possibly still want to discuss this, can she? I just turned her world upside down and she wants to hear about how I got injured. More pride than I care to admit floods me at the very idea that she cares about me. Despite my selfish elation, my mood darkens at the thought of reliving those horrors. With a snap of my fingers, Effie appears.

Effie’s ears are pulled back and her mouth is curved into a snarl. She hasn’t been that mad at me since I let Zoe have a sleepover at the Nott manor a few years ago without telling her. What did I do tonight to make her this angry? “What does Master Draco need?” 

Well, shit. I have really made her mad. “Effie, would you please get us some firewhisky and two tumblers? Then, take the rest of the night off.” Hopefully, that will appease the little creature.

She seethes back, “Effie will do as Master asks, but Effie will also bring a Sober-Up potion, so Master can go and fix the Little Mistress.” Then, she hisses. Actually hisses at me before snapping her fingers, the afore-mentioned requests appearing on the table, and then popping out of the room.

Guilt claws at me. Zoe was sad and confused when she left the dining room. I knew that could read it on her face, but I can’t worry about that now. She will be okay, but Granger won’t leave until I have explained and then I will have all the time in the world to make sure that Zoe is alright. I have to push forward, or I will back out of my promise, like the coward that I am.

I pour myself a full two fingers before offering the bottle to Granger. I have never seen or even heard about Granger drinking, but she pours herself an equally large glass and takes a swig, not even shuddering at the burn that I know is sliding down her throat. My eyes subtly trace the path that the firewhisky is now traveling, stopping at her chest. Her shirt hides much of her form, but her breasts push against the material, begging to be freed.

A small noise escapes her throat and I have pulled away from my thoughts, realizing, with a start, that I have just been caught staring at Granger’s breasts. As if this night couldn’t get worse. Sorrow still dominates her features, but there is a little bit of laughter hidden in her eyes at what she caught me doing. An ember compared to the blaze that is normally present but flairs nonetheless.

A flush creeps over my cheeks. I fight to keep it from spilling over my entire face and tip back the remainder of my glass, letting the burn eat away at the blush. I pour myself another glass before glaring back at her. Her patience is stretched to the breaking point, so I finally relent.

“The raid was successful, very successful in fact. Not a single casualty on our side, but my team had gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Lockwood was in worse shape than he was letting on, and Dangborn wasn’t much better off. I sent the two of them ahead of me to the closest field healer.”

“I knew that I had been hit with something, but nothing hurt. I couldn’t feel much blood anywhere, at least not enough to warrant concern, and I knew that I couldn’t apparate anywhere without being cleared, so I waited.”

“If you knew that you were hit, you should’ve seen a healer first. Those are some of our first directives given to field agents. You know better, Malfoy.” Her haughty, boss tone is back, a bit weaker than normal, but no less commanding.

“I am aware of our directives, but I wasn’t a priority and you know it. At least, at the time, I wasn’t a priority. When the closest healer finished getting my team looked at, she turned to me. I had a headache, but no worse than any other mission. I thought it was from magic overuse. I hadn’t exactly had much time to skive off using my magic before the raid was announced. When the healer told me that I was cleared, after performing a diagnostic, I didn’t exactly think to get a second opinion.”

Granger’s face is blanching with each word, her skin draining of all color. “Are you sure she cast a diagnostic?”

“Of course, I’m sure. The bright blue light made my headache worse. Regardless, when she told me that I was clear, I apparated home. I was late already anyways and I didn’t want Zoe waiting for me longer than she had to.”

“When I made it home, whatever curse I had been hit with flared. It ripped open a hole in my side, all the way down to the muscle, or so I am told. I lost so much blood, so fast that I couldn’t catch myself. I collapsed onto the floor, in front of my daughter. Luckily, she had the sense to get Theo. He’s a healer, you know.”

“I know who Theo is, Malfoy.” Oh, right. I forget that she is friends with Luna. Then again, I forget a lot of things about the strange Ravenclaw who has become such an integral part of our family.

“I don’t know much else, beyond the fact that it was bad. Theo spent most of the night healing me and I was just graciously allowed to leave bed for the first time today. If you want more specifics, I would ask Theo.”

I can practically hear the gears in her brain shifting as she absorbs all of the information. What I would give to just slip into her mind, quickly. She likely wouldn’t even notice. Then I could get all the information that I needed and she would never be the wiser. But I would never violate her like that. So, I am left to sit in silence as she rolls the information around in her brain, letting her draw her own conclusions and organize her thoughts enough so that she can ask me any questions.

“Wait, you said that Zoe got Theo?” That wasn’t what I expected, but the guilt gnawing at my chest increased.

“Yes.” My voice is smaller than I would use with anyone but her. I feel defeated. I had failed in protecting her from that horror. “She was waiting for me in the library, which is where I apparated to. Theo said that she tried to stop the bleeding, succeeded in slowing it at least, and came through the floo to get him. If she hadn’t found me, I probably would have . . .”

She gasps, a hand moving to her chest like she is trying to ease some ache there. But that’s impossible. She’s never given any indication of the bond manifesting on her end. Except, the place that she is rubbing is the same place that flares on my body when she feels distressed. 

She tries to control her voice, but it squeaks just a little. Enough to tell me that she is nervous for some reason. “Well, we can’t let this get out to the Prophet. They will use this as a club against the department, but you are absolutely taking some time off from work.”

“Granger, I am -”

“If you say that you are fine, Malfoy, I swear to Merlin that I will find those blasted peacocks you have told me about and feed you to them.”

A joke. Did she really just joke with me? After everything that has happened tonight.

“That might be a bit difficult, considering their favorite food is some odd plant blend that Effie makes, but I’d love to see you try. It would be worth it to watch you tie me up.” 

Amusement flickers through her gaze again. “We will deal with Padma. She will have a meeting with Harry, Kingsley, and I on Monday, but I wanted to let you know that she won’t be working anywhere in the Ministry ever again. I will come up with some reason that you aren’t in the office, but this will remain sensitive. I’ll expect you back at work next Monday. Until then, if you even step one toe on the Ministry property, you will learn just how many hexes I can throw at you.”

She stands up, collecting herself. “Go see her. She needs you, Malfoy. That much is clear after tonight.”

“I’m sorry for her behavior. She really is much more of a lady normally.” The guilt intensifies. Did Zoe really do anything wrong? Would I be apologizing if this were anyone else?

“Did you really not catch the pattern, Malfoy? I expected a bit more from the Slytherin prince. She was only rude to me after she believed that I was rude to you. She was protecting you. I can’t fault her for that, nor will I. Please tell her that I am sorry for my own behavior and that I hope we can meet again, under better circumstances.”

My heart simultaneously soars and falls at that declaration. Granger starts to walk away, back toward the entrance of the house, no trace of the fear that plastered her features when we walked in. I blurt out, “Granger. If you need anything, while you are sorting -, when you talk -, fuck! If you need any help dealing with him, you are always welcome here.”

She doesn’t turn around, but she does stop, just at the doorway into the kitchen. “She’s wonderful, Draco. I truly hope that I can see her again. Don’t hide her away forever.”

Her words take a minute to sink in. Instead, my thoughts are consumed with one word, such a small word, an innocuous word, a word that shouldn't mean anything, but rocks my very foundations.

Draco

She called me Draco. Not Malfoy. Not Auror. Not ferret. Draco. It’s like pure ecstasy, the sound of my name on her lips. I only wish I could’ve seen the rosy lines form the syllables. 

When I can calm down and analyze the rest of her sentence, the guilt quickly sweeps in to overshadow the elation of seconds ago. Don’t hide her away forever. That’s really the only way to describe what I’ve done to her, isn’t it? Hiding. I have hidden her away from everyone and everything, for purely selfish reasons. Sure, I wanted her to be safe, as safe as possible. But if I am really honest with myself, I didn’t want to have to share her with anything. Including the rest of the world. 

All of my emotions feel like pinballs bouncing around my skull. I wish that I could just go to bed and let sleep refresh me before I deal with the ramifications of tonight, but based on Effie’s reaction, and Granger’s comments, and her face as she walked out of dinner, I need to go and check on Zoe. 

The lights are off in the hallway and her room, but I can hear her. She sounds like she is mumbling, but it’s too high-pitched to be her normal voice. Each step brings me closer to the consequences of my biggest mistake of the night, my temper getting the best of me. As I approach her room, the sound clarifies and my heart shatters.

That wasn’t mumbling I heard. No, it was sobs. Gut-wrenching, body-wracking sobs, interspersed with whimpers like she is in pain. My steps quicken, almost to a run, until I am through the threshold of her room. There is no hesitation in my actions as I draw her into my arms, holding her tight to my chest. She throws her arms around my neck, squeezing me tightly like she knew that I would be coming for her.

“I . . am . . . so-, sorry . . . Dad.” Each word is accented with a sob. Her whole body is shuddering with them. I can barely feel Bruce digging between our bodies. 

“Oh, sweetheart, shhhhh. You have nothing to be sorry for.” My hand strokes through her hair gently, teasing out some of the knots from laying on her pillow. Another brick slams into my mind, but I tear it down hastily, needing to be fully present for her.

It takes a few minutes, but I don’t move, don’t shift, don’t dare disturb her except to rock her gently. I just allow her to ride through the tears, knowing that we won’t be able to talk until they have dissipated. She seems to know it too. Her body tenses, trying to hold them in. I just keep muttering into her hair, no words of real meaning, until her breathing starts to even out.

“Do you like her?” She is timid, scared that I will get angry like I did earlier. Pansy is going to kill me for this. That is if I don’t do it for her before she gets a chance. Regardless, I am struck by just how much she is able to understand, even while she doesn’t understand much. 

“Yes. I do. Very much.” I can’t lie, not to her, but the admission still strips me raw. I don’t dare look at her eyes.

She shifts a little against me. Not pulling away, just readjusting, but a bolt of panic still spears through me. “She needs to learn a lot if she is gonna be dating you.” A beat of silence before she continues, “And she needs to stop being married.”

I have to fight to keep a chuckle from escaping me. I know that she is serious, but I can’t comprehend what she gleaned from dinner tonight. 

“You know, my light, Miss Granger is a Muggle-born. I don’t know if she was ever taught about proper etiquette. Not like Aunt Pansy teaches you, or how your Nana Cissa taught me.”

“But I thought that the mean Mister  Weasel was one of the Sacred 28. I know that the Weasley family is on it. They should have taught her.” 

That stupid concept. The idea that two wars were fought over. The mere mention of the pretentious title for several pureblood families threatens to overwhelm me. I am too tired and emotional for this conversation to be proper, but I have to try. “He is, but not all of the families in that group use proper etiquette as we do. There are only a couple. Your uncles are from those sorts of families, but Aunt Luna isn’t. Neither is the Weasel. So he probably didn’t even know them himself.”

She pauses, mulling over my words. “She still should’ve been nicer to you, but I will forgive her. Do you forgive me, Dad?” There is nowhere for her to move against my chest, but she still folds in on herself, trying to make herself smaller. The old Quidditch t-shirt of mine dwarfs her small frame, adding to the illusion, but I won’t stand for it. I won’t allow the Malfoy heir to feel less than anyone, even if I was the one who made her feel this way.

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for. I know why you got frustrated, and you were justified. I did not prepare you and for that, I am so sorry. I also lost my temper, and I can only apologize for that as well. I love you so much, Zoe. You are my sun and stars. I will never be angry with you for too long, but I can’t promise to never be angry ever again. However, know that when I am angry, you haven’t always done something wrong. You need to hold your head high because you did a great job of protecting me tonight. I am so proud of you.”

“You are the best thing in my life and you are certainly the best Malfoy there is. Don’t let anyone make you forget that. Even me.”

She straightens, just enough for me to notice it, and it’s enough. It’s enough for me to hope that things will be okay. “Dad, can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“Of course, my light.” With that, I stand, moving her a little to allow me to move and head to my room, desperate for some of the joy I felt this morning. She is asleep within a few moments of laying down, but I lay awake, consumed by thoughts of dinner and my conversations afterward. The tug in my chest is still tight, still stressed, but I shove it back down, focusing on the blonde girl in front of me. I will do better. I have to do better. So, one day, these two halves of my life will become whole. Whatever it takes.

Chapter Text

Hermione

November 8, 2007

How had everything gone so wrong, so fast? It seems like a lifetime ago when I was coming home to my husband and best friend, my biggest concern being the unenviable amount of paperwork to be filed the next day at work. A blissful time when my emotions were almost always in check and I didn't feel like I was primed to explode at any given moment.

If I was being honest with myself, I hadn't been happy for a long time. Ron and I hadn't been intimate in months and we had been pulling apart, despite my best efforts to keep us together. He had become angrier and angrier at the smallest of slights while claiming that I was unreasonable for complaining about consistent problems, problems that he had promised to fix years ago. It was a slow kind of torture to realize that I had been falling out of love with my best friend for years, only to have been betrayed in the worst way.

That dinner with Malfoy and his daughter had been one of the most surreal experiences of my life. Sitting at that table, being served by a house elf who seemed to have more power over Malfoy than he did over her, getting told off by an eight-year-old. It was humbling, to say the least. But in just a few hours, my life was completely and utterly changed. 

When Zoe had blurted her observations, the world seemed to stop, my brain unable to process the words leaving the young girl's mouth. My brain split in two, warring with itself. Ron would never do that to me, said one half, while the other began listing signs that he had started pulling away. It wasn't until the girl finally left that the true weight of her words seemed to land in my psyche, crashing down upon me in a swift, exacting wave. 

I broke, shattered into a million pieces, my chest caving in on itself as I mourned. Mourned the loss of my closest friend. Mourned the life and future we should have had. Mourned the husband that he once was. Mourned the love that I no longer had for him. It had taken me a few moments to gain control over myself, moments in which Draco Malfoy of all people had gotten on his knees to comfort me. If I had been told that Draco Malfoy would ever kneel before a Muggle-born, I would have laughed in that person's face. I knew that his attitudes had largely changed, but I wasn't prepared to see him, on his own dining room floor, using more gentleness than I had ever thought him capable of. 

I can still feel his hands on my skin, caressing my face with an intimacy that I had never truly felt in my life. At every place that our skin touched, electricity pulsed and sparks danced, creating a pleasant undercurrent of sensation that spread throughout my entire body. I should have flinched away from it, should’ve moved away. Instead, I leaned into it, savoring the feeling of his smooth skin wiping away my tears.

Despite everything that he had told me about Ron, I could only seem to focus on making sure that he was okay, learning the extent of his injuries, and determining how truly Padma had tried to destroy him. My mind was warring between grief and indignation at everything I had learned. By the time I left the manor, I felt so overwhelmed, bombarded with more information than I could sort through without proper sleep. 

I was still reeling from the entire dinner that night, from the fact that he had entrusted me with his most prized possession: Zoe. Before she had revealed everything about Ron, before my night had truly gone to shit, I had watched the two of them, my curiosity overruling any sense of self-awareness. It was obvious from the way that Draco had sheltered her away that she meant the world to him, but seeing it in person was another thing entirely. They spoke without words, whether truly speaking to one another in their minds or simply being so familiar with each other that they could predict the other’s movements I couldn’t tell. She was fierce and cunning, exactly as I imagined she would be, but she held very little of the true arrogance that he had possessed at her age. It was plain from the pride on his face as she introduced herself that Draco loved her, more than anyone or anything. 

She clearly felt the same way about him. I had forgotten. Forgotten that Malfoy would know and likely use high society etiquette, the kind of etiquette that my late grandmother would insist upon whenever we visited her in Paris. It was a nuisance that was usually expected at the countless events Ron and I were invited to after the war, though we never adhered to the outdated customs. In their home, though, with a visitor, it was clear that Zoe was expecting that kind of performance. I was so lost in observing them, and so shocked by her blunt questions that I didn’t prepare myself for that kind of environment. When I realized my mistakes, I had already let my heightened emotions spill over, words tumbling out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. The small little girl didn’t miss a beat though, catching all of my meaning, and she struck. Swift and true like an asp, she leaped to her father’s defense, not caring that she was insulting me in the process. It was hard to fault the little girl for it and it was beautiful to watch her fight for Malfoy. He hadn’t had someone willing to do that for him for most of his life if I had to guess.

Combining all of my interactions of the day with the revelations of the night, I felt like a damn, pushed to the breaking point. My head was pounding, my heart shattered, and that damned tug at my chest still felt just as insistent as it had for the last few days. I couldn’t figure out why, but it felt like I could sense distress on the other end of the rope and I was sure that whoever was on the other side could feel the same, if not more, distress rolling from my side. 

I decided not to go home, not ready to face Ron and the consequences of the information that I knew. I was too tired for a fight and I needed all of my faculties for what I was preparing myself to do, so I apparated to Grimmauld Place, not caring what Harry and Gin might think. 

Luckily for me, Gin was already asleep, apparently curled up with Lily and Albus in the master bedroom. Harry was sitting in the living room, enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet, a rarity for that household when I came through. Any semblance of calm that I had scrounged up to leave Malfoy Manor crumbled apart at the sight of my oldest and closest friend. I fell to my knees on the carpet, tears streaming from my face in fat rivulets, wracking my body with tremors as I fell apart, once again. Harry’s arms were around me in a second, holding me together as if he could keep me from breaking, but his skin felt wrong. My body didn’t relish its feel, it just felt wrong. But I didn’t have the strength to fight him off, so I just let him hold me until the tears ran their course, stopping once again.

He didn’t ask questions, probably reading the look on my face to interpret that I wasn’t ready to talk. Instead, he just led me upstairs to an empty bedroom, the bedroom I had occupied years ago, in a different world, when we hid from everyone and everything for our very survival. Nothing had changed. The wallpaper was still falling off of the walls, the light still a dim glow that barely illuminated the space. Memories threatened to swallow me once again, but I just nodded at Harry, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug before slipping out of his grasp and collapsing on the bed.

When I finally woke the next morning, there is a young child bouncing on the bed next to me, impatiently waiting for me to open my eyes. At the first sight of my waking, the eight-year-old pounces, landing roughly on my stomach. 

“Aunt Mione! Aunt Mione! Why didn’t you tell us that you were having a sleepover? Can we play downstairs, just us two? Albus wants you to read a book, but I want to play. Is Uncle Ron coming over too? This is the best day ever!”

My eyes water at his name, but I shove the emotions down, focusing all of my attention on the black-haired ball of energy currently sitting atop me. Thoughts of Zoe flash through my mind completely unbidden. I can’t help but compare the two children. Zoe was all control and class. She exuded confidence in herself and her performance, but she was guarded, so unlike the child cutting off my air supply as he moved to sit on my chest. No, James was all energy, barely contained by his skin. He would never think to hide what he was feeling or thinking. The two children could not be more different, though they were the same age. 

For a few blissful seconds, those thoughts chase away my heartache. I lean into the distraction and begin my assault. My hands reach James’ middle, tickling him incessantly, letting his giggles fill the air. It’s not long before the other two children are bounding through the doorway and joining us in a pile on that old bed. 

“Oi! Did I raise a pack of wolves or children?” Harry’s voice is light, but it is edged with concern, a fact that goes over the head of the tiny humans smothering me. Instead of actually trying to get the kids off of me, Harry just jumps on the bed as well, joining me in the mass of bodies. 

Ginny appears at the door mere seconds later, accompanied by the smell of something sugary coming from the kitchen. As if summoned by an otherworldly force, the kids stand at attention, rushing toward their mother at the door. She simply wags one finger at them, her other hand firmly on her hip. Morgana, that gesture looked so much like Molly, it was a bit terrifying. “You all need to wash up before breakfast and then we are going over to Grams and Gramps.” 

James tries to cut in, but Ginny cuts him off again with a look. “No, James, we are not playing with Aunt Mione today. She needs a day with Daddy, so we are going to let them have space. And I heard that Fred will be at Grams and Gramps so we can play with him.” 

At the mention of George and Angelina’s son, the Potter kids light up and briskly run out of the room, hoping to wash up before breakfast. Ginny just looks at me from the doorway, her smile tight. The same concern on Harry’s face is mirrored on her own. “We love you, Mione. You know that right? Whatever happened, you will always have us.” She crosses the room then, enveloping me in a tight hug that just made me burst into tears once again. We sit there for a few seconds before the sound of pounding feet made her pull back. “Take as much time as you need. You are always welcome here, though I can’t guarantee that your wake-up call won’t be similar to today.”

With that, Ginny disappears downstairs to reign in the little army of children while Harry stays in that dingy bedroom. His hand rests on my own. I hadn’t even realized that it was shaking until his own hand was steadying mine. “We can wait up here for a few minutes and then venture downstairs. Something tells me that this conversation might need some sort of alcohol. There isn’t much that would make you show up to my house like that and I’m not nearly as good at dealing with emotions as Ginny.”

He doesn’t object as I bury my face in his shirt, soaking in the scent of him. He is so familiar, like a part of me, my brother in everything but blood. The ache in my heart eases a fraction at the embrace of the person I trust more than anyone else. We sit there for so long that my legs protest when I finally stand, not hearing any sounds from the munchkins. 

Harry follows me in silence, allowing me the space to think through everything with a slightly more clear mind than I had last night. I make a beeline for the cabinet that holds their stock of firewhiskey, not even bothering to look for less strong spirits. Harry doesn’t protest, he just wanders to a different shelf, grabbing two glasses and pulling out a chair for me at the table. 

He stays silent while I finish off my first glass and pour a second, his own untouched. When I feel properly prepared, I fight my rising tears and tell him everything.

I start from the beginning, laying out all the struggles that I had hidden for years. The sad truth of my life was that Ron had been pulling away from me for years. It had started off with little things. He had stopped visiting my office during the work day unless he needed something for professional reasons. He no longer waited for me to come to bed if I was engrossed in paperwork until the early hours of the morning. He stayed out later on the few days that we both had off. We had stopped going on dates entirely. He had claimed that I was just too busy and our schedules never seemed to align. Before long, it felt like we barely spent any time together. The intimacy that we had once shared, the casual touches and glances across a room that Harry and Ginny still took part in, had all but vanished. In fact, if I was honest with myself, I couldn’t remember the last time he had taken my breath away when he kissed me or touched me. 

Then, I tell Harry about the disastrous dinner at Malfoy Manor the night before. I explained what Luna had told Ginny and I at lunch, knowing that Ginny had likely told him as soon as she had gotten home. I have to fight to keep the simmering anger at Padma out of my voice, though the feeling was still as raw as my heartbreak. When I start describing my conversations with Draco, and subsequently Zoe, the surprise on his face is not hard to miss. He doesn’t ask any questions, letting me finish the entire story until I finally reach the point in my night when I had ended up in his home, emotionally drained and exhausted. 

For a long while, Harry is quiet, pensive. He always liked to think things through if he could before he gave his opinion. We were treading on difficult ground. I knew that I was putting him in a terrible position. Ron was his best friend too, not just my husband. I wasn’t sure what I wanted Harry to say, but I still found myself stunned when he finally did speak again.

“What do you want to do?” It was a timid question as if he knew how much I was hanging by a thread with the whole situation.

“I don’t know. I can’t . . . I can’t stay with him, Harry. I don’t even know if I can even look at him.” my voice is so small like all the fight had left me, systematically drained from my body with each new piece. “Why would he do this to me?”

Harry is quiet for a long moment before he responds, “I don’t know. I can’t even begin to imagine why he would do something like this. All I know is that this wasn’t your fault.” 

I try to protest, but Harry hurriedly interjects before I had a chance, “It’s not your fault! He made his choice on his own and you are not responsible for that. Don’t put this on yourself. You carry far too much as it is.”

“Maybe if I had just . . . “

“Hermione, you need to stop that right now. You will run yourself ragged thinking about all the ‘what ifs.’ Don’t give him that power over you. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The tears were back before I could try to get control of myself again. “I have no idea what to do now.”

“You’re the Brightest Witch of the Age. You’ll figure it out. And no matter what, I’ll be behind you. Always.”

With that, I fall apart in his arms once again, the tears never-ending. We sit in that dingy, old room for hours before I pull myself together and decide to get it over with. Rip the plaster off fast and all that rot. 

Harry walks me to the floo. Neither of us trusts my ability to apparate, not with my emotions threatening to spill over at any moment. That thread in my chest tugged. Not painfully, just as a reminder that there was someone on the other side. The small feeling centers me and I take a deep breath before calling out “Green Avenue” and disappearing in a cloud of smoke. 

Ron wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen from what I could see. My heart thunders in my chest at the prospect of having to hunt him down, or even worse, wait for him to return from somewhere else. My thoughts drift to him in Lavender Brown’s home, in her bedroom, her head thrown back in . . . 

“Mione? Where the hell were you last night?” 

His eyes are wild and accusatory. I have to choke back a laugh at the sheer irony of the situation. Like he had any right to question me and my whereabouts. The tears from a moment ago are gone and an indescribable rage takes control of my body. For a few seconds, all I can feel is my rising anger until a twinge of something refocuses my attention. The tug at my chest is more insistent, but not painful. I lean into the sensation, steadying myself, and close my eyes.

“I know, Ron.” Despite my anger, my voice is low and calm, almost detached. I sound like Malfoy.

Merlin, save me.

“What are you talking about? You know I hate it when you mumble.” His arms are crossed and his foot is tapping the floor impatiently, yet I stay calm.

“Then, let me ensure that I speak up so you can hear everything I am about to say. I. Know. Everything.”

He steps toward me, trying to crowd me, and intimidate me until I give in to whatever he wants. I won’t let him do that to me. Not again. Never again. “Apparently you don’t know to let your husband know your whereabouts. That was irresponsible. Are you an idiot?” He huffs a laugh before looking at my face, likely seeing the ire written across it.

“I don’t owe you a single explanation for my actions, not when you have been sneaking out to sleep with Lavender sodding Brown for years. Tell me, Ron, how long have you been fucking her?”

Even I am surprised by my language. I am usually more composed, but the calm that I had slipped into was slowly dissipating, the anger winning out. 

Ron halts about half the distance from where he started to my position by the fireplace. His face blanches and his hands start to shake. “I don’t . . . What are you talking about, Mione?”

“I’m referring to the mistress that you have had for quite some time. It is Lavender, isn’t it? Or do you have several mistresses? It must be so hard to keep track of them all.”

His face is getting redder and redder, whether, in anger or embarrassment, I don’t care. “You have clearly lost the plot, Hermione. I haven’t seen Lavender in years. What would make you say something like that?”

A manic laugh works its way out of my throat. It is painful to hear like it didn’t truly come from my mouth. “Oh come off it. You have been pulling away from me for years. Would you like me to address all of the times that you blew me off over the last few months? I am sure that if I contacted George right now, he would confirm that he didn’t have any meeting last night about the joke shop. Am I missing anything? Maybe you’d like to fill in the gaps in my knowledge since you obviously assumed that I wouldn’t get this far.”

My chest is heaving with the strength of the confessions. The space between us seems to stretch on for ages, a massive divide that cannot be overcome by hardly anything. Ron tries to step toward me again, but I back up, yielding only one step to him.

“Don’t.” My voice is icy and quiet, a true testament to how much the anger was threatening to overwhelm me. “Don’t come closer. I don’t want you to touch me.”

“Mione, please. Just let me explain.” Gone was his stern, chastising expression, replaced with guilt and horror.

“Explain what?! Explain how you have been cheating on me. For years? How you have lied to me over and over again? Explain the fact that you have a family with that . . . that . . . that woman? What explanation could you possibly offer me to make any of this okay?”

His mouth opens and closes, a bit like a fish gasping for air on land before he settles on an answer. “You were so busy with work. You didn’t need me. And Lav was just . . . She was just there. It was supposed to be a one-time thing but -”

“Oh my God! You are actually trying to justify this?! Make this my fault somehow?! I’m not the one who cheated, Ronald.” My magic is sitting at the end of my fingertips, begging to be released.

“No, you’re just the one who drove me to it. Don’t pretend that you are blameless. And Lav was never afraid to give me what I have wanted for years. It’s not my fault when you were just too damn stubborn to think about what I wanted.”

My jaw drops at his words, not fully comprehending what he is saying. The anger coats my every nerve. “So this is my fault because I told you I wanted to wait to have children? You couldn’t possibly handle the fact that I wanted to work. No, instead you found another woman and had children with her! And yet, you continued this charade of a marriage. I loved you, Ronald! And this is how you treat me.”

“She makes me feel needed and loved. She actually looks at me like I am worth something, unlike you. She’s a better wife than you ever will be.” His words hold so much vitriol that I cringe away, my gaze finally dropping from his.

“Get out.” The words are barely there, but I know that he can hear them.

“What?”

“I said, get out, Ronald.” 

“You can’t kick me out of my own home.” He sputters.

I step away from the fireplace, pointing in the direction of the flames. “I paid for this house. My name is on the lease, a fact that you protested quite adamantly. I can do whatever I damn well please and right now, I don’t want to see your face. You can come and pick up the rest of your things tomorrow.”

His face is beet red, his hands are shaking, and he looks seconds away from strangling me, but he walks toward the fireplace. “This isn’t over.” He spits the words in my face like a curse.

“Yes, it is.” The words ring like a death knell in my heart.

Mercifully, Ron doesn’t say another word as he walks through the flames, to the Burrow. I don’t really hear him leave. When the whoosh of the flames dies down, I sink to the ground, curling into myself. No tears fall, but every piece of me aches. 

I stay there for a long while, not wanting to move. Hoping that when I get up, this day would be over and I could go back to the way things had been. Instead, the house is still empty, the pang in my chest is just as insistent, and Ron is absent. I whistle once, a high note, and my new familiar flies into the living room. 

When I took the job as head of DMLE, I had to send so many letters that I finally caved and purchased an owl. She is a majestic creature, a tall barn owl with tawny feathers. She had such a distinct temperament, even in the shop, that I knew she was mine in a way that I hadn’t felt since I met Crookshanks so many years ago. Delphini was patient, but intent on her own way of doing things. She also did not take kindly to many people. Ron had never been able to use her without my help. 

Delphini swoops into the living room, perching on the arm of the sofa that I am sitting on. I write a quick letter to Adrian Pucey, a respected attorney in the wizarding world that I had come to rely upon for issues within the department and someone that I know will be efficient but stay away from reporters. When the letter is finished, with the intent clear, I fold the letter up and tie it to Delphini’s legs, allowing her to fly away. As I watch her form disappear into the horizon, a weight, though small, lifted from my chest. 

I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed this morning, but I needed a distraction. I couldn’t stay in that house, surrounded by all the memories of what had been, knowing that Ron wasn’t coming home. Knowing all of it. So I went back to Grimmauld Place with a bag packed for a week-long stay. Harry didn’t ask questions, so I marched straight up to that bedroom and moved in. 

I couldn’t fall asleep, tossing and turning all night thinking through the last two days. I felt like a wet dish-rag, wrung out and hanging limply. I could not stay cooped up in this house or I would go mad. I need to do something. Anything to keep my mind from obsessing over my letter to Pucey and the situation that I was dealing with Ron. So, I decided to come to work. I certainly have enough going on at the office that I will be sufficiently occupied, but it is still a struggle to drag myself from the safety of that bedroom. 

I arrive at the office with little fanfare and send my assistant off to find Harry. The first order of business has to be dealing with Padma, but my emotions are so strung out that I cannot approach her without someone more level-headed. While I wait for Harry to make his way to my office, I pen a memo to Kingsley. We need to show a united front if this issue is going to be resolved in a relatively peaceful manner. It will help tremendously if Kingsley comes and backs us up.

“Hermione, are you sure that you should be here today?” Harry’s voice is tentative, the same voice that he used to use when we were approaching Buckbeak.

My own tone is biting, harsher than I would like. “I am a grown woman, Harry. I can do whatever I damn well please.”

Harry doesn’t even bother to respond. He just raises an eyebrow, looking down at me in that infuriating way that he always does when he is right. Damn him. When did he get so perceptive? 

“I needed a distraction. Plus, we have a problem to discuss with Kingsley.” At that, Harry sits up, rapt with attention. I didn’t tell him about Malfoy’s injury or the circumstances surrounding it, so overwhelmed with everything else, but I don’t want to have to tell the story more than once. “Let’s wait for Kings and then I’ll tell you everything.”

We didn’t have to wait very long before Kingsley Shacklebolt breezed into my office, swaggering with confidence like he always did. He sits down next to Harry and they both focus on me, expecting to hear the reason behind their summons.

I tried to sum up everything that I had learned from the reports and from Malfoy’s story as quickly as I could without letting any emotion bleed into my tone. It was more difficult than it should have been, but I couldn’t help the righteous anger at the thought that someone would hold onto their prejudice like that. We had fought a war, giving up our childhoods to end that kind of thinking, yet it still persisted.

Harry eventually pulls me from my thoughts. “So what are we going to do?”

I’m not truly sure who the question is directed at, but I answer nonetheless. “She will not continue to work for my department. I refuse to let any of my employees suffer because of her prejudices. She deserves to go to Azkaban!” I can practically feel the fire behind my eyes. From the look on Harry’s face, I know that he sees it.

Kingsley just shrugs, “No one is suggesting that we cover this up, but we must approach the situation delicately. Mrs. Goldstein will not leave quietly without some incentive. And we will not be able to hold a trial without the media learning about it. Miss Skeeter, in particular, would jump on a story such as this.”

“She deserves to be brought to justice.”

“I understand, Hermione, but we can’t rush this. And we do not want this incident to be public. It would detrimental to the department and to Malfoy.” I hate that Kingsley is right. This is all just so unfair.

“Fine, but she will not work for this department any longer. She will be gone by the end of the day, or I will give you my resignation now.”

Harry lays his hand on mine. That same sense of wrongness from the other night creeps along my skin. The tug in my chest echoes that feeling and I have to force down a shiver. “Give us a few hours to come up with a strategy, Mione. That should give you a chance to get some work done. We will send a memo with a meeting time and plan of attack.” Harry actually winks at me with that and the two men stand to leave my office, their heads already bent together as they try and figure out a way to keep the office from imploding.

I bury myself in paperwork, flipping through reports and budget files like a mad woman. My eyes strain at the pace that I am putting them through, but I don’t stop for anything. When the memo flies into my office, the paper airplane unfolding itself in front of me, I finally look at the time. Shit. I worked straight through lunch. Oh well, I can eat later tonight. I unfold the memo.

Kingsley has a pressure point to use. Meeting in the conference room at 3. Don’t tell her that you spoke to Malfoy. Received official notice from Healer Nott. See you soon.

My heart thuds loudly in my chest at the mere thought of the confrontation. I wonder who Theodore sent the note to. Harry better let me read it before I walk into that meaning. Not to mention the fact that Kingsley better has a damn good pressure point. I don’t have the energy to deal with Rita Skeeter and the other vultures that would certainly flock to my door at the mere mention of such a scandal. 

Harry walks back into my office not even a half hour later, mercifully carrying a warm croissant and a coffee. The smell of melting butter engulfs me and my stomach grumbles, painfully. The manic hold that mindless paperwork had on me ebbs, taking with it my resolve to wait and eat at dinner. Harry has barely let go of the pastry before I inhale it, barely taking the time to note any flavors in favor of consuming the calories.

“So, how’s it going?” Harry asks, cheekily. I can practically hear the laughter threatening to escape him.

My eye roll is so exaggerated that Harry lets go of the laugh he had held back mere minutes before. “Are you going to tell me about our strategy to deal with Goldstein?”

“Are you going to take a break anytime soon and admit that you shouldn’t be at work?” His eyebrow is raised and he is giving me his best “concerned Dad” look. I don’t balk. “Fine, but if you need to go home, no one would blame you.”

A sigh rushes out of my body. “I know you wouldn’t, but I would feel weak and I really don’t need that right now, so can we please just focus on this meeting?”

He gives me one more concerned look but thankfully drops the topic. “Kingsley has something on her. He won’t tell me what, but whatever it is, he thinks it will be enough to keep her from running to the papers. Regardless, we both think it would be better if he and I did most of the talking.”

“Harry, I am perfectly capable of keeping my head in a meeting like this. Besides, I know more details about his injuries and the extent of them.” 

“Nott sent me a memo detailing the healing process and Malfoy’s injuries. I am well aware of what happened. Kings and I can and will handle this.” 

“You do not get to sideline me, Harry Potter, just because I have had a stressful weekend. I am a professional and -”

Harry raises a hand, cutting me off mid-rant. “No one is suggesting that you are less than professional, Mione. And I know better than most that you can compartmentalize your emotions. Honestly, it’s kind of scary how well you can do that. But both Kings and I could tell that you have some sort of personal stake in this meeting, more so than either of us do. And I have seen firsthand what you do when people threaten those you care about.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that I care deeply about Malfoy all of a sudden?”

“You care about your department,” Harry responds calmly. “You care about the people that you feel responsible for and lord help me but the ferret has become one of those people. We aren’t shutting you out of the meeting. All we are doing is asking that you allow us the chance to handle it with a more detached, impersonal touch.”

I cross my arms and huff, looking like a petulant child as opposed to the cool, collected department head. “Fine. But don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut the whole time. I won’t let her get away without hearing at least a little of what I think about this whole thing.”

“I would expect nothing less from you.” 

Harry and I spend the next few minutes joking and talking through some new leads that the department needs funding for before Harry’s wand buzzes in alarm. Time to go to the meeting.

As we stride toward the conference room, I can feel my blood turning to ice. Each step brings me closer and closer to the person who tried to kill Draco Malfoy. The tug in my chest intensifies and my heart pounds in my chest. I barely register the Aurors and other employees milling about, my focus wholly on the doors ahead of me. 

Despite my heightened emotions, I had managed to stay relatively calm throughout the day, but at the sight of Padma sitting at that table, completely unconcerned about the reason for this meeting, my anger rises to dangerous levels. I see red and Harry’s hand against my wrist is the only thing that holds me back from unleashing all of my stress and frustration on her at this moment. 

Padma’s hair is gathered on top of her head in a clean bun. She hasn’t bothered to change out of her lime green healer robes, the same robes that all healers at St. Mungos wear. Her face is a mask of calm serenity. She doesn’t fidget or look around. If she is nervous about this meeting, she certainly is not showing it. 

Kingsley is already in the room, sitting on the far end of the table, away from the doors. There are two seats on either side of him with pads of paper in front of them, obviously, the spots that Harry and I are supposed to occupy. Harry’s bright green eyes flick to me, just for a second, when he realizes that he won’t be sitting next to me to steady me, should something go wrong. I bristle at the insinuation in that look, like I can’t control myself. I try to nod at him in a way that is not noticeable, hoping that he understands my meaning. The anger coursing through me will not win, I won’t let it take over.

Harry gives my hand one more reassuring squeeze and we separate, heading to our respective seats next to Kingsley. Kings doesn’t waste any time. “Healer Goldstein, do you know why we called you in today?”

His tone is easy, with no hint of anything being amiss. Padma, clearly not on alert for anything, just continue to lounge in her seat as she responds in a rich voice, “I do not, Minister, though I am eager to learn why I have been asked to meet with such influential people.”

Her eyes sparkle with amusement or excitement, I can’t tell. Regardless, that flash makes me clench my hand around a support beam under the table, using it to hold back the tide of frustration warring in my mind. 

Harry glances over at me before squaring his attention solely on Padma in front of us. “We have brought you here to discuss the raid from last week, at which you were the primary field healer.”

Her face doesn’t change in the slightest. “Ah, yes. That was a successful raid. Not a single death as far as I’m aware.” 

Kingsley’s hand finds its way to mine under the table and he grips it, hard, sensing that I am about to explode. “You have been correctly informed, Mrs. Goldstein. We would like to discuss a particular Auror today. Draco Malfoy.”

At the mention of the name, Padma finally shows some sort of reaction. She bristles, a nearly imperceptible reaction, but I notice it nonetheless. “I haven’t seen Mr. Malfoy” She spits the name out like a curse, “in the office today. Has his absence been explained?”

“He is on a vacation with his family.” Harry’s voice is smooth and calm, nothing like the storm waging its way through my own body. That pull in my chest increases in response. “Is it true that you were the field healer responsible for his care during the raid last week?”

“I healed many Aurors after that raid. I can’t be sure if he was one of my charges or not.”

Kingsley butts in once more. “You did keep a record of healing him in your after-action report, Mrs. Goldstein.”

“Minister Shacklebolt, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but my proper title is Healer Goldstein. I would appreciate it if you referred to me as such.” It takes all of my effort to not leap up at the pure condescension in her tone. 

“That was your title Mrs. Goldstein, you are correct,” Kingsley replied, the picture of serenity. 

“Was? I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” Another flash through her eyes, this time distinctly different than the first. A note of fear crosses her, calming a bit of the monster roiling in me.

“Yes, was. You see, St. Mungos does not take kindly to learning that its own graduates and trainees would disregard their oaths due to an undue grudge.”

Padma glances back and forth between all three of us. “I’m sorry Minister, but it sounds to me like you are insinuating that I have violated my oath in some way and that simply is not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry chimes in.

“Of course, it’s not true. I have been a faithful healer for nearly six years, and I have served this department well throughout my time here. You have record of how successful I have been in maintaining the health and safety of the Aurors.”

“Not all of them.” My voice is that same quiet calm that I used when speaking with Ron this weekend. It is small but powerful. Both Kingsley and Harry flinch, knowing that I had promised to let them handle it.

Padma glares at me. “I have healed everyone to the best of my ability, despite my objections to some of the hiring choices of the department.”

Kingsley simply shifts slightly, organizing some of the papers held in front of him. I can’t read what is on the papers, but it doesn’t truly matter. He seems to be straightening them out to appear nonchalant. “I have a feeling that Auror Malfoy would disagree with that statement.”

“Mr. Malfoy” Her voice is like venom, coating the room, “is an avid user of the dark arts. He has been exposed to levels of dark magic that would drive most people to insanity. It is no surprise that he would experience lasting damage from such types of magic, or that he might have injured himself while he was experimenting with dark magic on his own. Whatever he has told you is a lie.”

Her chest is moving up and down rapidly as if she is battling the same inner demons as I am. Harry flashes me a warning look, but the monster in me begs to be released. I don’t care to hold it back any longer. “He didn’t tell us anything, you utter bitch. Another healer, who was summoned by a child, an eight-year-old child, explained the damage that he was forced to repair. He detailed exactly what kind of healing Auror Malfoy required and how such damage occurred. It was not due to his own actions, it was due to yours!”

My magic is practically screaming at me to get out of my body. The wood under my fingers beneath the table heats to an uncomfortable temperature, but I don’t move it, relishing the pain that I am causing myself. I should have seen it before, the utter contempt for Draco. I should have never put him in that position. I should have protected my employees. Zoe should never have seen something like that.

I don’t know what reaction I expected from Padma. Maybe more denial or shock at being discovered. Or even obfuscation onto another healer. What I didn’t expect was for her to admit to it all, yet she did.

“Draco Malfoy is fucking Death Eater. He killed people. He let them into Hogwarts. He fought for You-Know-Who, and you just hired him, as nothing mattered. It was people like him that killed Parvati. He’s responsible for her death and he should be rotting away in Azkaban. Instead, you all wanted to make him into a hero. He doesn’t deserve to be here, to be happy and breathing. Not when she is gone. Not when good people are gone because of what he did.”

There are tears streaming down her face and her hands are shaking. She stands up, pushing out of her chair. “I won’t sit here and let you lecture me about the moral thing to do when you let that monster in this office when you worked with him and became friends with him. As far as I’m concerned, you are just as bad as he is.”

My magic is now traveling around my body, sparks taking over each place that my magic courses. I move to stand, to even out the playing field, but Kingsley stops me. “Sit down, Mrs. Goldstein.”

His voice is authoritative, and still so calm as he has been this entire meeting. Padma doesn’t care. “I will not sit down. I will not stand for this. I am going to tell everyone that you chose him over me. No one will trust any of you. Good luck.”

“I think you are going to want to read this before you do anything, Mrs. Goldstein.” With that vague answer, Kingsley slides the papers that he has been fiddling with across the table to Padma. “Oh, and understand that these are not the original copies.”

Padma picks the papers up and scans the letters quickly. With each line that she reads, her face blanches. Her voice wavers as she speaks once more, “Where . . . where did you find this?”

“I have my ways, Mrs. Goldstein. Now, as you rightly assumed, you are hereby relieved of your post as Healer for both the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungos. You are expressly forbidden from speaking to any news outlet about the circumstances surrounding your departure, as is your husband. If you decide that you wish to tell, say, Rita Skeeter, about what happened here today, know that these papers will be published before her story can even run. You don’t wish to see what I will do when provoked.”

She swallows, hard, and nods at Kingsley sharply before turning on her heel and leaving the conference room. The anger flooding my system drains almost immediately and I slump against the back of the chair. She is gone. This is over. At least for now.

“What was on those papers, Kings?” Harry doesn’t know. I thought he did, based on that memo from earlier. My curiosity rises up and I sit up in my seat, looking expectantly at Kingsley. 

“Maybe one day, I will tell the two of you. All you need to know is that she won’t be bothering us any longer.”

“Why can’t you tell us?” I despise not knowing something and Kingsley knows it.

“Secrets are expensive, Hermione. They take a toll on every person who holds them. I will not burden you more than I have to, and this is one burden that I can shoulder alone.”

I want to argue with him, but I know that when Kingsley makes a decision, he will not budge. Not for anything. It is one of the reasons that we are such good friends. Knowing that I won’t get any further, I stand up and head back toward my office, Harry hot on my trail.

“Hermione, I really think you should - “

“I’m going back to Grimmauld Place right now Harry.” The shock on his face is evident. “I’m tired and drained and I have to talk to an attorney at some point tonight. I really should not have come in today anyways. My emotions are too raw. So I am going to go and eat something and maybe take a nap.”

His eyebrows raise at my admission and he opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off. “You can tell me that you were right when you come home tonight. Right now, I really need some food.”

He steps forward, engulfing me in a big hug. “Love you, Mione.”

It’s such a familiar gesture, but one that we haven’t done in months that I almost weep at the comfort in it. But I manage to hold myself together long enough to step out of his embrace and move out of my office. He walks me to the floo network in the lobby and stays until I step into the fireplace.

It doesn’t take me more than a minute to reach that dingy bedroom once the flames die down. I drop my bag unceremoniously and flop onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of my work clothes. The stress from the day presses on me, threatening to pull me under.

I set my wand alarm for an hour, giving me enough time to get presentable to meet with Adrian later before setting it on the nightstand and letting sleep pull me under.

Chapter Text

Draco

November 22, 2007

The last two weeks were a whirlwind. Zoe and I were able to spend a blissful week together with only a few minor interruptions. Mostly Theo or Pansy came to check in on me, making sure I wasn’t dead in the gardens or something. True to her word, I did not receive anything from work. Not a single owl, Patronus, or memo. Not even a floo visit from Potter. Seems he wasn’t stupid enough to go against Granger’s will. I couldn’t blame him. I was completely and totally cut off from my job, meaning I had far more time to train and dote on Zoe. 

Naturally, she got bored of me after about two days and started begging me to bring her baby cousins over to the Manor because, apparently, they play better than I do. I didn’t mind. It gave me an excuse to work on a few potions that I had all but abandoned weeks ago and catch up on the meager bit of paperwork I was able to hide from Granger. 

Despite the increased time with Zoe, I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t ready to come back to work. Thankfully, Lockwood and Rickie had handled everything while I was gone with ease, even scrounging up a few new leads for us to chase down. The leads were good, but they both made me promise not to ask questions regarding their methods, so I didn’t. No one in the office, except for Granger and Potter, knew about the cause of my abrupt leave of absence. Everyone simply thought that I used up some of my vacation time to take a week with Zoe in some exotic location, spending the insane, and practically criminal, amount of money that I could drop on a moment’s notice. I didn’t correct them, though I doubted that the scandal of my injury would have even registered on most people’s radar.

On any other week, the Prophet would have caught wind of my brush with death and leaped at the chance to sensationalize it. The headlines for weeks would be something along the lines of, “Lord Malfoy: London’s Most Eligible Bachelor and His Harrowing Escape of Death” or “Famed Death-Eater, Draco Malfoy, Struck By Dark Curse of His Own Making.” I would have been fending off reporters left and right, having to strengthen my own wards to keep them away from the Manor. But these last two weeks were dominated by a much more captivating story.

War Hero’s Heart Shattered In Ground-Breaking Divorce

Rita Skeeter

Wizarding Europe is left heartbroken today after the tumultuous announcement of the divorce of two of Britain's most well-known magical citizens. War Hero and Auror Ron Weasley was callously left by his oft-criticized ex-wife, Hermione Granger.

We at the Prophet have always strived to give you, the readers, the truth in these matters. It is no secret that Miss Granger has a penchant for chasing famous wizards (see previous articles regarding her torrid affairs with both Viktor Krum and Harry Potter himself) but one must have thought that she would outgrow these outrageous habits. Instead, Miss Granger has spat on tradition again and again.

As we covered, shortly after their union, Miss Granger announced that she would NOT be changing her name to that of her husband. That should have been the first sign that things were not all well with these two supposed star-crossed lovers. Since then, Miss Granger has flagrantly wandered around Wizarding Europe in controversial Muggle clothing. She has pushed for radical and even dangerous new legislation in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And now, she has decided to sully the institution of magical marriage, proving once again that she is only out for the fame that her title affords her.

No statement from Auror Weasley, who is currently grieving the loss of his marriage with his family. Our thoughts go to him as he struggles through this terrible time. 

More details to follow on Miss Granger’s supposed affair that led to the ending of this union. My sources are unsure as to the wizard who Miss Granger used so callously, but never fear dear readers, I will get to the bottom of the story for you and the rest of Wizarding Europe.

Everyone had read the article, and reporters had not left the atrium of the Ministry since the announcement. True to Skeeter’s tale, the Weasel was off licking his wounds at his mum’s and had refused to come into work. No one had seen or heard from him since the article was published. 

Granger, on the other hand, being the brave and stupid lion that she is, decided to come back to the work the next day. When I asked my trainees what happened, they both got uncharacteristically quiet before informing me that she went home early that day and took a few days off. It wasn’t hard to miss the harsh glares that were thrown her way by about half of the force. Not surprisingly, it was led by Weasel’s team, but a lot of the old magic families looked down on her in a way that they never would have, had that article not been written.

I had thought that I was a bit isolated from the backlash from the article since it was published while I was at home, but that wasn’t the case either. After a few days had passed, Zoe had decided that as long as Miss Granger wasn’t mean to me, then Zoe would teach her everything she needed to know about being a witch. Unfortunately, this realization came the day before the article. I didn’t even think to hide the paper from Zoe, though I quickly learned that I should have. Zoe read the article once, twice, and then had such a powerful magical outburst that it took some quick thinking on my part, and a rather large bucket brought by Effie to keep any of the curtains in the dining room. Apparently, she was just trying to burn the bad article that lied about Miss Granger. 

I couldn’t exactly blame Zoe for her reaction. Mine was nearly the same. It was unconscionable to read what Skeeter had written, especially knowing what I knew, but I trusted Granger to make any public decisions on her own. She didn’t owe me anything and I certainly didn’t have any real reason to be as eager to fight for her as I was. At least, not as far as she was concerned. So, I sat back and tried to support her as much as I could. 

Since she had left after that disastrous dinner, I had thought long and hard about her last comment. About hiding Zoe away from the rest of the world. I had hoped that time and separation would allow me to dismiss the comments. I hadn’t sequestered Zoe away completely. She had her cousins, her aunts, and uncles. She had me. That would be enough, wouldn’t it? But, as the week at home wore on, I realized just how right she was. I was watching Zoe blossom and flourish at home, but she could only do so much within the confines of the prison I had built for her, beautiful as it may be. And, at the rate that she was learning and devouring everything she could in our library, she would get bored far sooner than I would hope for her. 

I didn’t want her to be as sheltered as I was going into Hogwarts, but in my quest to keep her safe, I had done the same thing I faulted my parents for doing. So I eventually decided to kill two birds with one spell. Granger needed support, Zoe needed a re-do, and I needed to introduce Zoe to people other than her family, in a controlled and safe environment. I clearly lost my senses because I didn’t want Granger to feel uncomfortable, but Zoe didn’t know any other people, except for one. Potter. In what can only be described as a fit of insanity, I invited Granger, Potter, and the She-Weasel to the Manor for a dinner, to take place next Friday. 

Granger was a bit surprised, but her eyes flashed with relief. I didn’t know what she was doing with her time, but I figured that she was grateful for something to do outside of sitting at home, surrounded by memories of her life with him. Potter looked shocked. I was surprised that he could get his jaw off the ground. I’m not sure how the She-Weasel reacted, but I am sure that some furniture was broken and I had spent quite a bit of time practicing my shields so I could defend against her legendary Bat-Bogey Hex.

Zoe was thrilled beyond belief. She and Effie had promptly set to planning the whole thing, from the food that Effie was going to make, to the outfit that Zoe would wear. Zoe informed all of her aunts and uncles, who then flooed to my house to make sure that I hadn’t completely lost my mind. She even got Pansy to make her a new dress for the occasion. I had caught both her and Effie cleaning areas of the Manor that hadn’t been used in years except as doors to walk by on the way to more important areas. 

It all came to a head on Thursday. We hadn’t been cleared to chase down a lead in South London yet, so it was another day filled with paperwork for me. I came in for a few hours, just to show solidarity, but I came back around lunchtime to find my house overrun by Zabinis.

Blaise and Pansy were the first to have kids, after me of course, when Zoe was about four years old. Luca Francis Zabini was boisterous and loud from the start, crying at volumes never heard before by most sane human beings. He had dark, curly brown hair and a skin complexion that matched his very Italian father. His eyes were a muddy hazel green that sparkled in the right light. Zoe was obsessed with him from the get-go, claiming him as her best boyfriend and gifting him with the second, all-important, stuffed dragon named Kronk. It was the first time that I got to see her truly interact with another child, and she was a natural. It was also the first time that Zoe took it upon herself to give everyone in her life an intentional nickname.

At first, her nicknames for her aunts and uncles were born out of an inability to pronounce their full names, and then the names just stuck. But with Luca, Zoe insisted that giving the child a nickname proved her love for him, so he has only ever been Luc to her and none of us have ever tried to change it. After Luca was born, Pansy told us all that she was done with children. She hated being pregnant and absolutely despised childbirth, but about three years later, Lila Tracy Zabini (Trace to Zoe) made her appearance. The little girl had Pansy’s jet black hair, falling straight down her face, with startling blue eyes that captivated anyone who saw them. She did not have any of her brother’s energy or confidence. Instead, at only 18 months old, she clung to her brother and Zoe at any family gathering, refusing to leave their sides. She was absolutely terrified about most things, including the peacocks at our Manor. She was the gentle force to Luca’s fire and the two of them balanced each other out quite nicely. The dynamic was sure to become more interesting as they grew. 

That Thursday, I came home from work, expecting an empty house until I picked Zoe up. Instead, I found Pansy and Blaise dancing in the sitting room with Luca running underfoot, Zoe sitting on one of the sofas with a book in her lap and a look of amusement plastered across her face. I didn’t move or make a noise as I watched Luca and Lila both climb up onto the sofa and pull Zoe off of it, yanking her to the middle of the floor and forcing her into the dance. She put up a false fight for a few minutes, pretending to protest until she finally reached down, scooping Lila up into her arms and spinning her into a circle, the same way I had done to her a million times. Lila shrieked in delight and Zoe happily handed her off to Blaise. Then she grabbed Luca’s hands and guided them into a proper ballroom hold. She walked him through the steps, trying to get him to take the lead, as the wizard is supposed to do in proper dancing, but failing as he tripped over her feet. To Zoe’s credit, she didn’t wince or step away, and simply continued to lead him around the room, giggling as they went. 

Pansy caught my eye first, not breaking hold with her husband, and said, “Are you planning on watching all day or are you going to help us show these kiddos how it’s done?” Zoe turned at that moment, her eyes landing on mine. I could tell that she wanted to break her hold with Luca, but he wasn’t done with her and he was starting to pick up on some of the steps, so she finished the song with him and let him run to Lila, who was again on the floor, crawling and waddling between people. Luca tried to pick her up and dance with her, with his mother watching like a hawk. I made a beeline for my awaiting daughter, sweeping her into a hold and pulling her into one of her favorite waltzes. We spun around the room listening to music and giggles from her cousins for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company, practicing one of her favorite activities. 

Every time we danced together, Zoe’s eyes lit up, becoming molten silver. They seemed to be flecks of diamond glittering during every spin and, during every lift, she looked as if she could float there in the air forever. I loved watching her dance, observing the confidence with which she moved, watching as she commanded the attention of everyone in the room with her grace and poise. She was beautiful. 

We stopped dancing when Luca barrelled into my kneecaps at break-neck speed, getting scolded by his mother mere seconds later. The Zabinis spent the rest of the day, lounging in the library, watching the kids in the garden, and just existing in our little bubble before Pansy decided to worm answers out of me.

“So, Granger and Weasel are done.” It was matter-of-fact, proper, clean. No mention of the circumstances. And no question either. Merlin, she really was going to press me.

“I saw.”

“The divorce should be finalized soon.” I refused to look her way, knowing that I would likely cave under her shrewd gaze. Blaise chuckled on my side.

“I heard that too.”

“And Granger will be available.” A full-blown belly laugh escaped Blaise at that and I just raised an eyebrow.

“Do you have a point to this Parks, or am I just going to be telling you about all of my daily observations now? The sun rose in the East this morning, in case you were wondering.” I could hear the rustling of the lawn chair as Pansy changed her position, likely attempting to stare a hole through the side of my head.

“Drake, you have been pining after her since you were eleven years old. She trusts you, or at least the information you gave her. She clearly was concerned about you, if she came to check on you. When are you going to make your move?”

“Morgana’s tits, Parks. The divorce hasn’t even gone through yet. I’m not going to just jump on her while the body is still fresh. She deserves time to grieve. They were married for almost 7 years.” 

I finally caved and looked over to find Pansy smirking at me, with her husband mirroring her expression. “But you are going to jump on her at some point?”

I realized my faux pas too late. Of course, that was what she took away from the conversation. They continued in that manner for a few minutes, ribbing and teasing me into revealing details about my elaborate plans to woo Granger. Plans, I might add, that I didn’t even know myself. When I finally managed to chase them out of the Manor before dinner, I was drained and ready for my time alone with my daughter.

After her cousins had left, Zoe and I sat down to dinner. I was nervous and shaky the whole time because I had planned something idiotic, but something I was hoping desperately that she would allow. 

Granger had said that I was hiding her away, and I was. I needed to introduce her to society eventually. Due to some of the more dramatic Prophet stories, I was getting invitations to pureblood events again. Society witches were desperate for me to rejoin their ranks and find my queen to parade around with the Malfoy name. Mostly, they were looking for me to give one of their daughter's endless wealth. 

I would plan and prepare a true coming-out ball for Zoe at some point, but that would take months to plan if Pansy had anything to say about it. Zoe would need lots of time to prepare for such an event and so would I. Instead, I wanted to give Zoe a chance to be noticed without the expectation that she be the chief entertainment, and I had a terrible plan. One that I would not enact unless she agreed with my methods.

Once dinner was finished, we went back to the library, hidden away in her reading nook, both carrying mugs of hot cocoa. I covered her in a blanket and then looked at her before divulging my idea. “Sweetheart, would you like to see more people?”

“What do you mean, Dad? Aren’t we seeing more people for dinner next week?” Her curious stare is exacting, cutting me bone deep.

“Yes, we are. But I would like more people to know about you, I want people to know about how amazing you are.” I poked her belly, making her squeal just a little before she settled back against the wall.

“Aunt Lu says that you keep me a secret. Do you want to share the secret with other people?”

Damn that Ravenclaw. One of these days, I will stop her from telling Zoe all of these hidden things about me. “Yes, I have kept you a secret for a very long time, but if you would like, I would like to tell more people.”

“That would be awesome! I could go to parties and fancy dinners and shopping. Aunt Pans has a whole list of things that we are going to do when everyone knows about me.” She talked a million miles a minute, not pausing for anything other than breath, a cadence that was not unfamiliar to her.

“Of course she does. Well, I was thinking about taking you to Diagon Alley again, during the day. We might get our picture taken, so we need to be on our best behavior.” She was practically bouncing by the time I finished talking, desperate to butt into the conversation.

“I have a super pretty dress that is perfect for pictures. Can we go to the ice cream place that I saw last time? Or the store with the really loud noises? Oh, can we talk to the people who are taking our pictures? I want to make sure that they take good ones. Oh, and we definitely need to tell Aunt Pans cause she should help make sure that we are matching. And you could do my hair . . . “ Her excitement was so infectious that most of the worries that had plagued me since I had decided on the plan flew out of my mind.

Until today.

I woke up early, feeling sick to my stomach. My outfit for the day, planned by Pansy, was laying draped across my armchair in the corner. I knew that Zoe’s was similarly situated in her room. The outfits were not outlandish, nothing that I would not be seen in for something as mundane as getting ice cream, though they had a touch more class than the sweatpants I wore around the Manor nowadays. 

Pansy had picked some sleek, black jeans that were just on the casual side of the dress and matched it with a charcoal grey sweater that hugged my shoulders. No color for me, she had said. Zoe, on the other hand, sparkled in a day dress of purple, playing the princess that she is for the reporters. The accent detailing, the shape of stars falling down the skirt, was done with silver thread that matched the shade of my sweater. Pansy had insisted, and Zoe had backed her up, so I was powerless to resist.

I drag myself out of bed, each step slower than the last as if I could delay the inevitable by simply taking up more time getting ready. I barely got my clothes on before Zoe bounded into my room, dressed and ready to go except for her hair, which she demanded that I fix for her. She doesn’t waste any time, grabbing my hand and pulling me into her room, where her dresser has been set up with a brush and some rubber bands for her hair displayed and her stool pulled away so she could sit. 

For a few minutes, I get lost in the monotony of twisting and twining strands of her hair around one another, allowing them to sit in a loose braid that falls down her back. It is not quite the crown of braids that I would do for her if we were going to a formal event, but it still makes her look far too old for my liking. 

She is practically a ball of energy, bouncing from place to place, incapable of sitting still. That doesn’t bode well for the role that she needs to play today if this is to go well. I know for a fact that Rita Skeeter will be out today, hoping to catch a glimpse of Granger doing some shopping. We must be perfect. 

We make it to the floo parlor before feeling compelled to say something about her nervous behavior. 

“Zoe!” It is a bit harsher than I mean to be, but she still nonetheless, attention fixed entirely on me.

“Yes, Dad?” Her eyes are dazzling, the excitement written in every feature.

“Do you remember how you are to behave today?” I kneel in front of her, not wanting to stand above her for this conversation.

“Yep. I am the Heir of Malfoy. I need to look like a proper lady, especially for the cameras. Best behavior today until we are home.” She pops the “p” in Yep. I almost break and crack a smile, but I force it down. She needs to understand how serious this is.

“Yes. People will expect a lot from you because of our name and your title. You cannot be bouncing around all day, do you understand?” She nods vigorously and then takes my hand, slipping her face into a mask of calm and seriousness.

“I won’t. I just needed to get all my bounces out now, so it’s easier to pretend later.”

With that declaration, I stand up straight, fixing my own face into its chosen mask for the day. We both walk toward the floo and appear in the Leaky Cauldron. It is the middle of the day so the pub is packed with witches and wizards from all walks of life. We could stay, but I don’t want to socialize here, where it would not be on my own terms, so I just lead Zoe out through the back and tap the bricks in the wall to let us into the alley.

The street is bustling with activity. Early Christmas shoppers taking advantage of the semi-warm weather, parents getting things for their students returning home in a few weeks, and the normal crowd simply wandering for something to do on a Saturday. There are enough people that we should blend into the crowd, but we are dressed to impress and our stark-white hair shines like a beacon for anyone looking.

Within a few seconds of stepping through that entryway, Skeeter’s feelers have found us and the snap of cameras echo all around us. Zoe, to her credit, does not balk away from the cameras. She squares her shoulders, focusing on maintaining her mask, and puffs out her chest, just a bit. She still clings to my hand though, her grip getting tighter as the flashes continue. 

Before long, another reporter is breaking through the line of cameras, elbowing witches and wizards out of his way to shout at me, “Malfoy, who is this child with you?”

Soon voices are ringing through the square.

“Why are you with a child?”

“What’s her name?”

“What are you doing in Diagon Alley?”

“Is she from a Mistress that you have taken?”

“Is she an orphan from the war?”

“Is this a publicity stunt?”

The questions bounce around the air and I answer each and every one. Cool, calm, collected, and above too much preening. I hold Zoe’s hand, squeezing it at regular intervals and whispering to her in our heads.

You’re doing great.

Big smile, sweetheart.

Almost done, I promise.

She doesn’t fade, doesn’t cower. She starts answering some of their questions, her tone eerily similar to my own. It is a bit like looking at a younger version of my mother.

When we are finally free of the crowd, the cameras parting long enough to allow us to get through, Zoe has only one request: ice cream. We make a beeline for Fortesque’s, taking refuge in the shop that long ago banned reporters from its interior. There aren’t many people in the bright store, but one group stands out. 

The boys are portraits of him when he was young, while the girl clearly takes after her mother. The oldest looks just as energy-filled as Zoe was this morning, while the younger boy looks like he wishes he would rather be anywhere but here. The girl is too little for me to get a good handle on her behavior, but I would hazard a guess that she leans more toward her eldest brother’s behavior than the other one. 

Zoe’s eyes are locked on the group across the room, who haven’t noticed us yet. She lingers, for just a second, before her attention is caught by the countless flavors of ice cream before her, but I don’t miss that pause. I have no idea what it means, nor why she was so taken with the Potter family, but I allow her to lead me toward the counter without comment.

“Malfoy, what are you doing out and about?” Potter’s voice is loud and fills the nearly empty store. I have to suppress a laugh at the fact that Zoe’s head swung his way when he called our last name, but I simply approach him, getting an introduction out of the way.

“Zoe, this is Mr. Potter, the Auror that I told you about.” I extend my hand toward her at the same time as Potter squats, so he is practically sitting on his heels in front of her, hand outstretched.

Zoe, ever the proper lady, places her hand in his, not to shake, but to receive a kiss. Potter clearly has no idea and tries to shake her limp hand, though she quickly realizes the difference and tries to garner some strength back in her gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. My Dad has told me all about you. I am looking forward to next week.” 

Vague. Not overly expressive. Could have several meanings. Could also be an insult. Merlin, she is a snake through and through. I couldn’t be more proud. Something shines in Potter’s eyes and he glances back up at me. The look is one that could only be passed from father to father, understanding the love and adoration that is contained in one small being. 

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Zoe. Your dad has told me a lot about you. I am looking forward to dinner too. James, Albus, Lily! Come and introduce yourselves.” Potter yells across the space. The three mini Potters come running through the shop, ice cream dripping all over their clothes and the floor. 

The eldest one, James, truly is bouncing on his heels like Zoe was before we left. He extends his hand, covered in melted ice cream and visibly sticky, toward Zoe. The little boy screams, “Hi, I’m James.” Zoe, trying very hard to contain her disgust for the gesture, delicately reaches for the boy’s hand and shakes it, attempting to minimize contact. Both Potter and I have to stifle a laugh at the sight. 

The other two don’t say anything, both choosing to hide behind their father’s legs instead. I am baffled at Zoe’s determination as she peers around the stranger’s body to meet the eyes of the other two children. She softens her voice and barely says, “Hi. My name is Zoe. Do you know what the best ice cream flavor is? I don’t know what to pick and I have never been here before.” 

The little girl starts babbling about whatever flavor she had, coming out from her hiding place. Most of the speech is incoherent, but Zoe nods along all the same as if she could understand everything perfectly. The other boy is still clinging to Potter, but Zoe doesn’t break her stare. It is soft, inviting, gentle even. The same stare that she gives to her cousins when they are nervous. Soon, the boy slowly lets go of Potter’s leg and starts to inch toward Zoe. His eyes firmly fixed on the floor, he starts to tell her about the flavors that he has tried. She offers a few encouraging remarks before turning to me. I hear, clear as day, in my mind, her voice,

He needed a friend. Can we get ice cream now?

Her control is masterful and I can’t help but beam with pride. Potter grabs the attention of his little horde and starts steering them toward the back door. They likely snuck in to avoid all the reporters, a good decision since Zoe and I led them here, and the owner offered them a way to continue their avoidance. The store is considerably quiet without them in it, but Zoe doesn’t seem to mind. She picks out the flavor recommended by Albus (fate has no irony) and eats it in the most dignified manner I have ever seen her use. Not a drop falls on her dress, nor does she get any ice cream smeared around her lips like the oldest Potter kid did. The cameras outside have not ceased their flashing, but Zoe doesn’t care. And, for the first time in my life, I find that I don’t either. I am out, in public, with the brightest little girl of her age, with impeccable manners, and I get to claim her as my own. This is a great day.

By the time Zoe and I get home, we are both exhausted. It didn’t take long before we had both changed into our pajamas and met back up in the library, cuddling like we did a few days earlier in her reading nook. We sat there in blissful silence for a few moments before the worries crept their way back into my brain.

“Zoe, sweetheart, since we got home a bit earlier than I initially planned, can we do some training review today?” 

“Sure, Dad. What spell are we practicing?” Despite all of the energy she expended, keeping her mask firmly in place all day, she seems to have a never-ending supply. At the mere mention of training, she perks up and almost starts bouncing yet again.

“No spells today. It’s been a bit too busy for that, but I want to go through some of the bad men we have talked about. Do you remember all of them?”

“Duh. They are important to remember. You told me that, Dad.” Her tone is so impatient like she can’t possibly imagine not remembering something that I said was important. My heart swells. 

“Alright. Tell me what you remember.” 

Her brows scrunch together and her nose twitches as she scans her brain for every morsel of information. “Well, there is your mean uncle and his brother. They aren’t very smart, but they are good at being sneaky. They like to hurt people, but they will try to kill most people instead of just hurting them.”

A chill runs up my spine at the subject matter, but I force it away and nod at her, encouraging her to continue. “Then there is McNair, right? He is the one that used to kill animals. He doesn’t like to use spells to hurt people. He has a couple of knives 'cause he likes to cut up people.”

“There is another one. I can’t remember his name. He likes to turn into people that you trust, so he can trap you. He wants to make you not like people that you liked.”

“The last one I remember is Dolohov. He’s super scary. He doesn’t just want to kill you, he wants to make you hurt. He wants to break you.”

This is the one aspect of her magic training that Pansy will never hear about, nor will any of her other aunts and uncles, yet it’s the aspect that I believe is the most important. I started teaching her about the methods of some of the most brutal killers out there, initially so that she was aware of what I was getting into, so she knew the risks of leaving our Manor’s safety. But it had morphed into something different. A strategy meeting of sorts in which I could teach her ways to beat some of the worst criminals in our world without ever needing to lift her wand. It would only make her stronger in the long run, but it still hurt me fundamentally to force her to learn about these horrors. I would not relent though. Not until each one of the men was caught. 

She remembered them nearly perfectly, their methods practically rolling off of her tongue as if she was simply reciting something from a book. Soon, I would give her more details and we would compose strategies for her if she were ever captured, a nearly impossible event if I had anything to say about it. That could wait until she was older. For now, this would be good enough, but I would always ensure that my princess was able to save herself and never the damsel in distress.

“Fantastic, darling. The name of the one that you forgot was Selwyn. That’s enough for tomorrow, but we are going to add a few names to your list next week to remember. I’m very proud of you. Head up to bed and I will see you in the morning. I love you, my light.”

She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, says, “I love you too, Dad!” and then turns around to run upstairs. 

Chapter Text

Heir of Malfoy Revealed

Rita Skeeter

Dear readers, I, Rita Skeeter, have discovered the secret of the century. Acclaimed bachelor and known Death-Eater Draco Malfoy has been keeping a secret from all of us for far too long. I am bringing you the latest news from Wiltshire.

The elusive Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy has been regarded by most of society as a recluse since his unfortunate involvement with You-Know-Who. After the Golden Trio’s triumphant defeat, Draco Malfoy retreated back to his family home, pulling away from society. 

Though the eligible bachelor reappeared in the magical world nearly three years ago, much was still unknown about how he spent his time during his five years of self-imposed exile. I have uncovered the truth and gotten to the bottom of the story.

Yesterday, Draco Malfoy was photographed with none other than Zowena Malfoy, his daughter, and Heir to the Malfoy family name and fortune. Yes, you read that right, dear readers. Draco Malfoy has indeed named his daughter as the first female Heir of a Noble House in nearly six centuries. This announcement comes as a shock to the entire Wizarding community, but her status as both a pureblood member of the Sacred 28 and the Malfoy family has been verified by Ministry officials who shall remain unnamed. 

Zowena Malfoy, a young girl of about 8 years old, is a proper Lady befitting her title, but one can only wonder what other secrets the young Lord may be hiding. Who is the girl’s mother? Where has she been hidden? Why did the young Lord conceal her existence from so many? And most importantly, what will they do now that they have revealed everything?

Lord Malfoy had this to say when asked all these questions and more outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. “My daughter is mine by blood and she is the rightful Heir of Malfoy. We are truly anxious to rejoin society, but feel that it is finally the right time to be welcomed back into the open arms of the Wizarding community, as one family.”

For my readers who worry that the once most sought-after bachelor is now off the market due to his familial status, fear not! The Lord and young Malfoy were not spotted with any Lady on either of their arms. In fact, I have uncovered that the young girl does not have any maternal figure in her life whatsoever. It seems that the job is ripe for the taking, should a young lady be up to the task. Lord Malfoy is rumored to be accepting suits for any young lady who can prove her capabilities in both fulfilling the duties as Lady of the Manor, and also as Mother to the young Zowena.

Zowena also graciously commented during her outing yesterday, “I am most fortunate to get the chance to learn about all of Wizarding society. I hope to grow closer to more capable wizards and witches. My father and I will work to expand our circle and work with the best in all our endeavors. I am excited to make my introduction to society.”

No word yet on when the grand event will take place. Though, rest assured, this author will be there to document every last detail. Until then, we will continue to bring updates about the newest addition to the most sought-after family in all of Wizarding Europe.

Dolohov

November 23, 2007

My rage threatens to leap out of my body at the picture plastered all over each newspaper and magazine published in the last twenty-four hours. Each one brings a new angle of a smiling, blonde princess clothed in purple, twirling in her spoiled brat of a father’s arms. 

The Prophet sitting before me feels like a mockery of the work I did. All I can see is a flash of deep purple and a bright smile as the happy family dances the day away in broad daylight. All while I am forced to sit in squalor and filth, never staying in one place for too long.

It’s enough to make me want to tear off someone’s head. Luckily, last night’s revel was a success. Laying in front of me on the ground are the mangled bodies of four Muggles: three women and one man, all barely in their twenties. I can still hear their screams echoing in my mind as I attempt to perfect a new curse based on my recent findings in an anatomy textbook.

Who knew that the skin was the largest organ in the human body? I certainly didn’t. Now that I do, I have begun experimenting with ways to use that great expanse to my advantage, thinking of the organ as my canvas and the cursed lines from my wand as my art. I found the modified shrinking spell to be the most effective, primarily when targeted at particularly fleshy areas of the body. Watching the skin rip from itself and then disappear, leaving the meat of the body exposed to the elements. Ahhhhhh. Just thinking about it makes me want to go off and wank.

But I still have three Muggles still cowering in the corner to take care of. And I need to work off some of this pent-up rage from the sight before me. That entitled prick has no idea what’s coming to him. It’s because of him that I am confined to this shit-hole. Because of his “task force,” I am forced to move every few days to stay ahead of the leads he inevitably gets.

It’s a setback, of course. But a minor one. And now, he has made his most fatal mistake yet. Parading her around as if no one will be able to tell that she is different, special, powerful. I can practically smell the power radiating off of her from the picture alone. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. Doesn’t think that anyone else will notice how otherworldly she is. But I do. I know exactly what she is and what she is capable of.

My cock jumps to life at the thought of that immense power coursing through her veins. It strains against my pants, chafing painfully against the zipper. I don’t give a shit who might be around. I pull out my cock stroking it firmly. My head fills with thoughts of her magic, twining itself with mine. Of the rush of power, I will feel when it finally succumbs to my own core. Of the gasps, she will make as I take everything I want from her and then more. Of the screams from that upstart little cunt as he watches his “precious, baby girl” on her knees in front of me, blood pouring out of her in thick gushes. She screams as her body rips apart and her magic is torn from her filling the air. The anguish in his eyes when he knows that there is nothing he will be able to do to stop her death.

I cum with a loud grunt, spilling myself onto my hand and shirt. One of the Muggles lets out a pitiful whine, grating on my already frayed nerves. Another shoves the first, trying to get them to shut up. They are such predictable creatures, so easily broken. My next targets will need to be more of a challenge, but I must wait to strike until the time is right. I need to research more and ensure that my plan is perfect before I enact it. I will not risk capture because I was too hasty. I will not make that mistake. So instead, I turn slowly, flashing my gruesome smile at the three remaining Muggles. 

Their fear is so tangible, that I can practically taste it in the air. They are practically clinging to one another as if the other Muggles will act as shields against my wand. How pathetic!

A flick of my wand sends one of them sprawling into the middle of the drawing room. One of the other ones huddling by the wall screams as he falls into the still-drying pool of blood. His pupils are blown wide as she glances up at me. 

"Pl . . . Pl . . . Please" 

Fuck. I love that sound. The sound of total surrender. The begging, whether for their life or for the sweet release of death. It sounds like the sweetest symphony, soothing my very bones. All I do is lift my wand, examining the dark wood and the detailing that has become worn and weathered over time. The Muggle loses control of his bladder, his fear overtaking all sense in his body. It’s a glorious sight.

With one swift motion of my wand, the new curse hits him and the screaming starts anew. The pool of blood grows as the new victim’s life seeps out of him. Such a beautiful thing to witness.

When the screaming finally stops, I turn to the remaining two. A cruel smile stretches across my lips and I picture the Malfoy bitch in my head, imagining her in their place as I shoot the curses at their trembling forms. 

I’m coming for you, Zowena.

Chapter Text

Draco

June 17, 2009

“Again!” 

My voice reverberates through the room, bouncing off each wall, amplified. Zoe closes her eyes in concentration, a bead of sweat breaking out across her temple. She’s been at this for almost an hour, but I want this skill to be perfect. It needs to be perfect.

For the past month, we have been working on the creation of a shield without a wand. It was something I learned how to do only a few months after the Dark Lo-

Say his name, you coward. He’s dead. You can say his name.

I learned how to shield wandlessly a few months after Voldemort started living in the Manor. It saved my life more than a few times and now I am passing along the skill. It’s a simple enough spell and doesn’t drain the caster too much if there is no strain. In other words, it’s a good spell for Zoe to practice while she is still without a wand.

Zoe’s eyes snap open, the grey irises hard like stone. She grits her teeth and raises her arm toward the dummy across the room. Her arm wobbles, just slightly, from exertion, but her voice is calm and strong as she shouts the spell.

“Protego!”

A circle of pale blue light erupts from her hand, covering her from head to toe. It glimmers like a translucent shell. Her eyes are focused and determined and she dips her head in a small nod, nearly imperceptible. My eyes track the movement and I whisper the incantation to awaken the dummy.

The dummy is an invention of mine that I have perfected in the last year, with a little bit of help. I couldn’t stand to shoot spells at my daughter, not even for teaching purposes. Granger and I had lunch together a while back and she started telling me about the practice dummies that her stupid Defense Against the Dark Arts group had used during our fifth year and, though I hate to admit it, I was intrigued. I tracked down an old dummy from an old boxing gym in Wiltshire and repurposed it. Now, on command, it will shoot low-grade spells at an intended target. Nothing too harmful, mostly stinging hexes and stunning spells. Regardless, it has become essential in Zoe’s training, an inseparable part of the old sitting room that I repurposed as a training room.

The dummy raises its false hand and a stinging hex flies toward Zoe’s shield. I can tell that she is starting to tire. Not surprising, considering we have been at this for almost an hour. There is an evident shake in the shield as it is assaulted, but she sets her brow and scowls at the dummy ahead of her. Inside her cocoon of power, she smirks, actually smirks, at the dummy as if challenging it to shoot more spells at a faster pace. She turns that look to me a mere second later, knowing that I am controlling the pace. 

Merlin, is that what I look like? There is no way I would get away with anything if I was obvious that much trouble. 

No matter. I point my wand at the dummy once again, increasing the pace of the spells. This time, two stunning spells leave the dummy wand in quick succession. The shield holds, but the shimmer from the magic is duller, losing some of its shine with each spell. 

Her hair, pulled away from her face in a loose ponytail, is sticking to the sweat beading her neck and her whole body is shaking now from exertion, but she doesn’t let up. She never lets up until she fails. 

She nods at me one more time, beyond the ability to speak, and I direct my magic to the dummy one more time. It shoots off two more spells. The first is deflected, but her shield flickers in and out of existence. The second stinging hex lands just as her shield falls for the last time and she collapses to the ground, rubbing at her kneecap, the site of the hex.

I am across the room from her, with a glass of water in hand, before she even looks up from the floor. She reaches up for the glass blindly, knowing I’ll be there. We have settled into a routine while working on this skill. With the glass in hand, she tips it back into her throat, downing the entire glass just as quickly as I gave it to her. I don’t even have a chance to tell her to slow down.

Over the last two years, she has doubled down in her efforts during our lessons. I have never asked her why, but she has thrown her entire being into these lessons and I won’t complain anytime soon. She has made extraordinary gains, pushing herself in each and every session. Theo says the same thing about her healing sessions. She practically absorbs the information from the books that he has assigned her to read. He won’t let her cast any spells until she gets a wand, a day that is rapidly approaching, but he has taught her several methods of healing without the use of a wand. She has excelled in that as well, which came as a shock to none of the Snake Gang. 

My fatherly instincts tell me that I should check her knees first to see if she is alright, but I don’t. I used to check in on her first, until she shooed me away, insisting that I tell her what to work on before I “babied” her. I was helpless to do anything but comply, so my response seems cold and detached.

“You are focusing your energy on keeping too big of a shield. Since you have limited magic without a wand, focus on a smaller shield that is mobile and can be directed at the spell coming toward you next time.”

Zoe nods and sets the glass on the floor next to her. Her eyes leave the ground and she looks up at me. “Can I . . . try it? Just . . . one more . . . time?”

“Your magic is strained already, darling. I could see it. No more magic use for the rest of the day. What is the most important thing to remember while we are training?”

Her sigh echoes through the space, but she recites our rule. Each word is accented by a pant of her ragged breath. “Magic is . . . like a . . . muscle. We don’t . . . stretch it beyond . . . beyond its limits. We stop when . . . we feel the . . . strain.”

Her eyes are still hard and concentrated on the task ahead. She hates stopping when her skill is not perfect, but she has yet to fight me on this rule. Both Theo and I have tried to impress the seriousness of this rule upon her and, thus far, we have succeeded. Thank Merlin and Morgana and any other long-dead magic user that might offer some measure of protection.

She takes a few more deep inhales, strands of her hair sticking out at odd angles as they escape their hold. When her breath is more even, and she has gotten her bearings once more, she speaks up again, her voice holding much more authority. “If I can’t do any more magic, can I at least read for a little while before dinner?”

“You have a half hour and then we need to get ready. Your cousins will be here in two hours, which means that Aunt Pansy will probably be here in an hour and you don’t want her to catch you in this attire, do you?”

Zoe looks down at the sweaty clothing now sticking to her body from all the sweat. The white tank top has dirt marks all over it from her laying on the ground earlier and her shorts aren’t much better. The workout attire is appropriate for what we do here, but Pansy would have a coronary if she ever saw Zoe wear something like this to a formal event. Hell, she might lose her shit if she saw Zoe wear this anywhere but in this room. Zoe seems to realize this at the same moment that I do and a shudder wracks through her body.

“Fine. Can you set a wand alarm for me? Then I’ll go get ready and see if Effie needs any help.”

“Of course, my light.” Though I’m not sure Effie will need any help. 

Thankfully, I don’t say that last sentence out loud. Zoe straightens out and pulls her hair from its hair tie, letting it fall down her back in a long cascade. It reaches the center of her back now, but she refuses to let any of us cut it. She says that it makes her look more grown up. I don’t question her on it, as long as it's still manageable she can do whatever she wants with it. 

Zoe, satiated and looking less bad for the wear, hugs me quickly and strides out of the room, head held high with a confidence that makes pride swell in my chest. She turns left out of the modified training room, making a beeline straight for the library and her reading nook, which is filled to the brim with healing tomes from her Godfather.

I release the sigh I had been holding in the entire session. Watching all of those spells fly at her, harmless as they were in my presence, caused my heart to clench painfully at memories of far more deadly curses flying at another witch who holds a special place in my mind. 

With one last look around the room, to assess any damage that I might need to clean up before our next training session, I flick my wand to turn out the lights and leave, warding the door behind me. I have the room locked and warded at all times when we aren’t in it, to ensure that none of the Baby Snakes get in and hurt themselves when I’m not watching them. Blaise and Theo seem to think it’s a good idea to bring their children to my home when I’m not there because Zoe is more comfortable here they claim. I think they just do it to snoop. Regardless, I have too much magic in that room that could go off if someone was not careful and I am not willing to allow any of my nieces or nephews to get hurt if I can help it.

Alarm set on my wand, I hop in the shower, washing off the grime and dust from the day, my thoughts finally allowed to wander away from the little blonde girl currently engrossed in a text that I wouldn’t even attempt to read without help from Theo. 

Looming deadlines and possible leads float through my head as I try to sort through my thoughts from this week. I left work early today, paperwork completed, so I could spend some extra time with Zoe and get ready for dinner tonight. Before I left, She came by my desk, dropping off a load folder full of details about a new law that she was submitting to the Wizenamagot. I can almost feel her hand brushing mine still, the sparks that erupted at the point of contact between our bodies. 

Ever since the divorce, Granger had blossomed. She was more confident, never losing her spark in meetings. Potter made it sound like she was more spontaneous, in fact, she had apparently asked him to go out to drinks on several different work nights, something that was unheard of before she left the Weasel. The best part was that she became more open with me. I got the feeling that the Weasel had made some comments about her interactions with me. Without his influence, Granger often found her way to my desk to check in on my force or to ask my opinion on other cases. I pretended not to notice how frequently she visited me, but each time my heart yearned to reach out to her. I had tried to give her space to figure out what to do, but I wouldn’t deny her help in passing new legislation or a friendly voice in a conversation that had already played itself out. 

We had yet to spend much time together outside of work, beyond those two dinners at the Manor, and a few odd lunches. I wish I could say that the second official dinner wasn’t as disastrous as the first, but it was far, far worse. The Potter children could only be described as unruly at the best of times. Granger was still fresh off of her split with the Weasel and the Weaselette didn’t exactly have a high opinion of me. Conversation was stilted and Zoe was so frustrated by the end of dinner that she asked to be excused early so she didn’t make a scene at the oldest Potter boy, who had spilled most of his dinner on himself. Zoe had at least held herself together better, but whenever the other adults tried to get her to interact with the oldest boy, instead of the younger boy, whom she tried to coach through eating properly, it ended in a derisive, veiled comment from Zoe and a look of utter confusion for mini-Potter, followed by a much less sophisticated derogatory comment. The only good that came out of that whole event was the fact that Zoe had essentially adopted the other boy, Albus (whom she refers to as Al). They write constantly about books they are reading and interesting things that they have learned. Zoe pointedly refuses to write mini-Potter unless coerced, which I certainly won’t do.

Despite the horrendous event, Potter and I agreed for the first time in our careers. The socialization was good for the kids. James desperately needed someone to refine his attitude and Zoe needed to learn how to let loose a little. So, against my best wishes, we made dinners with the Potters a monthly endeavor. Each time ended just as disastrously as the first, Zoe and James absolutely refusing to cooperate, no matter what we tried, yet we still kept to the ritual. The Weaselette seemed to think that they would make a cute pair. I shudder at the mere thought of having to deal with a Potter for any longer than necessary.

Outside of that interaction, Granger had kept our time together mostly confined to the office. Zoe and Pansy have ganged up on me a few times, trying to corner me into asking her out, but I have evaded their prodding. Not that I don’t want to take her out, but I don’t want to screw it up. I won’t get a second chance with her, not when I have had to work so hard to reach this relatively normal point in our relationship. 

A shiver wracks my body and my wand vibrates noisily on the bathroom counter. Shit, have I really been in the shower for a half hour already? I quickly wash up and reach for the towel, wrapping it around my hips tightly. My hair is still dripping, but I walk into my room and throw on a black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants before walking down to the library to find my little star. 

She is exactly where I imagined her, curled up in her nook, blanket pulled across her lap, and a book that is too large for her thin frame propped against one knee. I watch her for a few seconds in silence. I can see her eyes tracking words across the pages at a rapid pace. Her breathing is even, but her face is alight with happiness, pure and simple. I almost don’t want to pull her away from her thoughts, but I know that she will be frustrated if she doesn’t have enough time to get ready so I clear my throat to alert her to my presence.

She jumps, her left hand slipping from the book to protect herself, should I be an intruder, while her right dutifully marks the page she was on. I have to stifle a giggle at her swotty nature that I know she inherited from me. Sure, she might have to fend off a deadly attacker, but she’d be damned if she lost her spot.

She visibly relaxes when she sees me, but her eyes harden just a bit when she takes me in. “There is no way you are wearing that with Aunt Pans coming over.”

I can’t contain my laughter any longer. It bursts out of me, loud and clear and within seconds, Zoe has joined me. Her giggle is, quite possibly, the greatest sound I have ever heard. It is so free and light, I bask in the sound. 

When we finally catch our breath, I manage to say, “Of course not. I am following you upstairs to change. Aunt Pansy would kill me if she saw me wearing this to dinner.”

We share a secret smile and she hops down from the nook, careful to put one of her bookmarks in the text that she was devouring mere moments ago. She reaches for my hand and we walk up the stairs together only separating once we reach the doors to our respective suites. 

I can’t remember what Zoe is wearing, likely one of her least favorite dresses, so she won’t be as disappointed when one of her cousins spills something on it. We usually try to match, so I grab an all-black suit, forgoing the dress robes, and slip into the silken fabric. My tie is a simple black tie, with silver detailing. I should be able to match any outfit that she chooses and if not, I will still look formidable, which is always my goal. 

Once I’m changed, I move to the next suite, knocking on the door before entering. Zoe is in one of her old emerald green dresses. It has a tight bodice that flares out under her chest. The whole dress falls in a flat line down to her knees and it is covered in a sheen of black sparkles. Not one of her most formal, but certainly an eye-catcher. It makes her grey eyes sparkle in the light.

She smiles softly at me and pads over to her vanity seat. 

“What would you like to do with your hair tonight, love?” I ask softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek as I move her mass of blonde hair behind her shoulders. 

“Can we just pull the front back in two little braids? I want to leave the rest of my hair down tonight.” She doesn’t turn but her eyes are fixed on mine in the mirror.

Picking up the brush, I smile back at her and start working through the tangles in her hair, pulling gently until it sits against her body in a straight line. I don’t say anything as I start pulling back the necessary strands and twining them around one another. We just sit in comfortable silence, allowing the peace of the moment to envelope us. Normally, we would talk to one another about our day, but we both know the chaos that we are about to be assaulted with. My daughter, along with many other traits, inherited my introverted nature, which not that many would know from watching me in public. However, if given the option, we both prefer to have a quiet night, just the two of us, to a night of entertaining hundreds of guests. Though we both excel at the latter option. 

Once her hair is finished, a pin with a glittering diamond on the end holding it in place, she turns in her chair and looks up at me. “We should probably go and see if Effie needs help. Oh and make sure we have the protection charms on my nook.”

She rattles a few more notes off, like she is reciting a list. I simply nod and let her lead me out of the room to the library. First priority, make sure that her precious books won’t be harmed. It’s something that she learned to prioritize one of the first times the twins were allowed in the library and tore out a page in a genealogy record. She stands to my side, hands on her hips and an impatient look plastered on her face as I recite the charms to ward the nook from anyone other than a Malfoy by blood. 

Once her texts are protected, we split up, each taking a room to ensure that Effie doesn’t need help straightening it out. As I expected, Effie was so excited that she outdid herself, polishing everything until even the windowsills sparkled. We meet back up in the kitchen, where the little elf is surrounded by ingredients of all sorts, while pots, pans, bowls, and plates fly around the room at breakneck speed. I have to duck to avoid a bowl as it whizzes past my ear. When I look around the room, I see Zoe, standing off to Effie’s side, chatting with the elf as if there aren’t heavy dishes flying inches away from her face. 

Every fiber of me itches to move her away, especially as the next bowl that Effie summoned flies directly toward Zoe’s head. But she simply lifts a hand up by her ear and gives it a small shove as the bowl hits her palm, directing it to the space between her body and Effie’s. She doesn’t even stop the conversation as she blindly directs cookware, while the elf manages to build and cook several dishes. 

The pair looks so comfortable that I don’t want to disturb them, so I stand in the doorway, waiting until all of the cookware has found a stopping place. It takes a few minutes and by the time I feel safe enough to enter the room, there are several dishes covered with the slight sheen of a warming charm strewn across the kitchen counter. Effie is not done and continues to talk to Zoe while whisking something green in a large ceramic bowl.

“But Little Mistress needs to dance with the Little Lords at the ball tomorrow night. It is important, Little Mistress. Effie says so.”

“But all of the boys are so gross and sticky. They don’t act the right way in public. And most of them are terrible dancers, Effie. Not like Dad, or my Uncles.”

A surge of protectiveness works its way through my body at the mere mention of Zoe and “Little Lords.” Effie and I will have to have a talk about how grown-up Zoe truly is. She’s only 10, she doesn’t need to be thinking about those sorts of things. Not to mention the fact that I will never force her to marry, not for anything. She could choose to remain single her whole life. In fact, I think I prefer that option to the thought of any young boy pawing at her like an animal. 

“Effie is sure that Little Mistress will find her best friend, even if he is a bit sticky. That’s okay. Effie can help fix that. Promise Effie that you will try tomorrow, Little Mistress?”

Zoe nods her head solemnly, determined to live up to the orders from Effie. “I promise, Effie. But they are probably too sticky for you to even fix.”

At that moment, Zoe notices me out of the corner of her eye and moves away from Effie, scrambling toward me. Effie tracks the movement, the whisk not faltering for even a heartbeat, and she smiles at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Dad, Effie says that you can’t hog me all night tomorrow. It’s important. You have to let me dance with other people.”

Zoe’s hands are on her hips and her stare is practically deadly. A lesser man, or perhaps one who hadn’t changed her nappies, would have caved under the weight of that gaze, but I simply offer the elf and my daughter a patented Malfoy smirk.

“But you are easily the best dance partner. Why would I want to have anyone else on my arm, but you, princess?” 

I tap her nose to emphasize my point. She giggles, but her eyes are still locked on me, pleading now. “I didn’t say that you have to dance with anyone else, silly.”

We likely would have continued teasing one another for far longer, but at that moment, the tell-tale whoosh of the Floo opening sounds throughout the Manor. In no time at all, the once quiet halls of the Manor are alight with laughter and chatter as the Nott family strides into our home. 

We don’t bother to move from the kitchen, knowing that the boisterous crowd will likely find us soon. Neither Zoe nor I am disappointed when two, tiny, blonde heads poke around the doorway and an ear-splitting screech is freed from one of their lips. 

Dahlia practically howls, “ZZZZOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEE!”

Zoe barely has any chance to prepare for the almost two-year-old who slams into her legs, wrapping her in a tight hug. Dahlia is quickly followed by Caspian, who takes control of her other leg, squeezing her with the same force as his twin sister, but with none of the noise. Athena, her messy black hair pulled into an elaborate bun, stays by her parents, but smiles warmly at Zoe and me. 

“It smells absolutely divine, my darling Effie. I do hope that Draco has properly thanked you, though if he hasn’t, the Nott Manor would never turn down another set of capable hands.” Theo purrs at the elf, still hard at work. He drops into a low bow when Effie turns her attention toward him.

Effie simply rolls her eyes at his antics and waves the whisk at him. “Mister Nott is a big flirt. Mister Nott must be good tonight or Effie will hide all of the chocolate eclairs that Effie made for Mister Nott.”

“I’m always good, Effie.” Theo echoes, though he noticeably straightens and drops a bit of his sickly sweet tone.

I suppose it would be too much to hope that his antics would start and end there, but Theo simply turns his attention to me, focusing on what is sure to be an ongoing topic of conversation tonight, while Luna wanders over to Zoe, with Athena in tow. 

“So, you ask out the Lioness yet?”

I jolt at the question. “Why does it matter?”

It’s a poor attempt to distract him away from the truly important matter and hopefully get out of the question, but Theo doesn’t balk. “Come on, mate! She’s not going to wait around forever. Isn’t she coming to the ball tomorrow?”

I’m saved from answering anything else as the Floo sounds again and more noise fills the halls. 

“Luca Francis Zabini! If you continue to run through the halls like that, we will go straight home without dessert or reading, am I understood?”

Even as a grown man, Pansy’s chastising tone still makes a shudder pass through my body. Theo isn’t immune either as we both shake off memories of previous rows with the sharp-tongued terror of Slytherin House. Neither of us can hear Luca’s response, but a few seconds later, his little head poked around the doorframe, eyes searching for and landing on Zoe’s frame, currently surrounded by Nott’s. 

In the time that I had been speaking to Theo, Zoe had picked up Caspian and was listening with rapt attention to a story that Athena was telling, with her mother’s assistance, about a new magical species that apparently lives on their property. I have no idea what a guddlemew is, but apparently, they are notoriously difficult to catch and like to eat pumpkins.

Luca practically shoulders his way past Luna to wrap Zoe in a big hug and Lila follows shortly on his heels. Lila taps on Luca’s shoulder and he quickly moves to the side so Lila can grip Zoe’s hand tightly, hanging onto the appendage like a lifeline.

Theo grins wolfishly as Pansy and Blaise round the corner and Pansy holds up a hand to keep him from speaking. “I don’t want to hear it, Nott. That one” She jerks her chin at Luca, “Has been an utter terror today. Absolutely refused to put on his shoes until I promised that we could stay reading with Zoe after dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind the extra company, Draco.”

“I was just going to point out that you did remind me of the time of dinner only five times,” Theo says, a tone of innocence infused in his words.

“Six,” Blaise adds, helpfully, before ducking his head to avoid his wife’s icy glare.

“Right, six times, insisting that I was likely to be late to the party. And, if my wand is to be believed, you are” He casts the Tempus charm, “five minutes late.”

Pansy swipes a manicured hand at Theo, clipping him in the shoulder while Blaise and I break out in fits of laughter. The kids are all staring at us as we bend over, clutching our sides. 

Zoe’s voice cuts through our reverie, sharp and clear. “Are you guys done, or should the Baby Snakes, Aunt Lu, and I start dinner without you?” 

I turn toward my daughter, who looks every inch like the princess that she is, surrounded by loyal subjects who would do anything for her. Her eyes have steel in them and the rest of the children stare at us, echoes of her fire. 

I turn back to the rest of the Slytherins and we glance at each other, pride shining in all of our features at our children before I turn to the rest of them. “I don’t know about you all, but I am starving. Let’s eat.”

With that, the group disperses and heads for the formal dining room, already set with places for each family member. The first time we had one of these dinners with everyone, Effie and I made the mistake of placing each family unit together. We only made it about five minutes into dinner before Lila was begging to sit next to Zoe and Athena was wondering why she had to be so far away from everyone. Since then, we have developed a sort of rotating system, letting each of the Baby Snakes choose where they sit, while the adults all sit on one end of the table, so we can have conversations without the interruptions of 6 little voices. Effie and Zoe tend to keep the rest of the Baby Snakes in line, so we don’t have to worry about much, though we have a good vantage point, to ensure that no funny business occurs.

It seems that Caspian and Lila have claimed the all-important seats next to Zoe. Not surprising, considering how much those two seem to lean on Zoe whenever they feel overwhelmed, which tends to happen when we all get together. 

Effie doesn’t set the food out in the center of the table anymore, not after that one incident which left Luca covered in treacle tart, requiring several baths, or so I was told. Instead, she magics portions onto each plate at the beginning of each course. The children have come to expect that kind of service and don’t complain when there is no food in front of them immediately. Then again, if they did grumble, they would be silenced quickly by Aunt Pansy, who manages to scare all of them into submission. Well, all except Zoe.

When the first course, pumpkin soup, the twin’s favorite, appears in front of everyone, the kids tuck in right away. Zoe quietly reminds Luca to eat slowly, stopping him from spilling a large spoonful of warm liquid on his lap.

Blaise chuckles at the sight and turns his attention to the rest of the adults. “How did your lunch go, Luna? You have used that back room so often, I might as well name it after you.”

Her serene smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Oh, we quite enjoy that room. I think that both Ginny and Hermione enjoy the privacy. After all, they can hardly go anywhere without being photographed. Not to mention the lack of wrackspurts. It’s an ideal meeting place. We had a great time last weekend.”

“Did she mention our favorite snarky dragon at all, Luna?” Pansy interjects, eyebrow raised. I groan.

Luna, completely unperturbed, soldiers on. “Oh, several times. She has a terrible infestation of nargles that only seems to dissipate when she mentions Draco.”

Theo looks at me and waggles his eyebrows. “Well, look at that Mr. Europe’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Will she ever live up to the insurmountable expectations required of the new Lady Malfoy?”

I don’t bother to hide my eye roll, but I shoot my gaze at the children, ensuring that they aren’t looking in my direction before raising two fingers to him.

“Ooo. You lead your mother with that hand?” Blaise interjects, eyes alight.

Pansy clucks her tongue. “Draco! There are children.”

“Relax, Parks. They aren’t paying attention.”

As I speak, Theo, Blaise, and I all throw the bird at each other, like we would when we were twelve. Theo’s tongue is out and we are all giggling at the others. Pansy looks like she is about to scold us but just shakes her head, resigned to our ridiculousness.

I flick my eyes back to the kids, noticing that Zoe is staring at me, an incredulous look plastered across her face. I quickly drop my hands, the others taking note and dropping theirs, but not before Pansy and Luna give each other a devilish look and lick their fingers simultaneously, sticking them in Theo and Blaise’s ears, respectively. They both shriek, jumping from their chairs, wiping at the uncomfortable sensation in their ears.

In no time at all, we are all laughing so hard that we can’t see straight. Tears flood my vision with the force of my laughter and there is splitting pain cutting through my side. When we have finally calmed down, I chance a look back at the kids.

Luca is throwing the bird at all of his cousins, while Zoe sits on the other end of the gaggle of children, with her head in her hands in disappointment. It’s such a familiar sight that brings me back to the days when the most worrisome thing Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and I had to deal with was who would be forced to dance with books on their heads during lessons.

Finally, Theo and Blaise sit back down, notably wary of their wives, but they dig into the next course, which had been switched out, presumably, while we were all messing around. 

“Teddy, my darling, if Dahlia continues to try flipping off her siblings, you will be the one to deal with it later.” Luna’s cheery voice is at odds with the threat in her words, but Theo doesn’t care. He just beams at his youngest daughter, giving her an exuberant thumbs up while she giggles, trying to get the coordination to hold her fingers up without the use of her other hand. 

“Well, if you are all done acting like children,” Pansy starts, with a manicured eyebrow raised, “I’d like to get back to our original topic. Namely, when Draco here is going to get the balls to ask out Granger.”

Blaise focuses his attention on me, but grips his wife’s hand loosely, above the table. He rubs a few circles into the back of her hand. “Don’t pretend like you are above our games. As I recall, you were just as involved as we were, Fiore.”

She huffs, but doesn’t look away from me. “Come on, Draco. I seem to recall you saying that you would invite her over to this dinner, yet here we are, distinctly Lion-less.”

Luna chimes in, unhelpfully. “She didn’t have plans tonight, but I did not want to ask her for you, Draco.”

Theo looks between his wife and me, nodding as if to say See, we told you so.

I take a deep breath, needing to settle myself in order to answer this question properly, but before I can, a commotion breaks out on the other end of the table.

From what I can see, Dahlia had given up on her quest to raise her middle two fingers and had become preoccupied with flinging peas at her sister across the table. In the process, Athena had been pelted with several peas, and now had green globs all over her hair. And, Dahlia lost control of the spoon, accidentally flinging it back into Lila, who was sitting directly next to Dahlia.

“Lia! Ladies do not behave this way. Apologize to Trace, right this instant.” Zoe runs her finger through Lila’s hair, freeing it from the pins that had been holding it back and massaging her head. “Shush. You’re okay. It didn’t hurt you. It just scared you.”

Zoe’s icy stare is locked on Dahlia, and Dahlia has the mind to look cowed by her oldest cousin. Luna and Pansy are both up, walking toward the kids in the span of a few breaths. Athena has tears welling in her eyes as she tries to get the globs of pea out of her hair, only managing to smear it even more.

Luna focuses on Athena, soothing her worries by whipping out her wand and vanishing the green mush while coaching Athena through a breathing exercise to calm her down. 

Pansy heads straight for Lila, attempting to take her from Zoe’s hold, but Lila just grips Zoe harder as Pansy tries to pull her away. Zoe continues to brush Lila’s hair with her fingers, whispering in a consoling tone. Zoe’s eyes remain fixed on Dahlia, though.

Dahlia, wringing her hands in her lap, looks up at Lila, who is curled up in Zoe’s lap now, her bluish-green eyes glossy with tears. She lays her hand on Lila gently, “I’s sowy, Ly-La. I not want to hurt you.”

Lila sniffs, snot now mixing with the tears on Zoe’s once pristine dress, and looks at Dahlia. “It’s . . . It’s oh-tay, Lia. I’m not hurt, just . . . just scared.”

Dahlia heaves a sigh and wraps her arms around Lila, mostly holding onto Zoe instead. Caspian is observing the whole scene with a seriousness that belies his young age, his focus wholly on his other half, Dahlia. He jumps up at the sight of her tears and he runs to envelop his distraught twin in his arms.

I look over at Luca, who has managed to ignore the whole interaction and is happily munching away on the next course. Pansy and Luna are trying to gather the children up and reorganize them. Theo, Blaise and I stay on our side of the table, clearly uncomfy with the number of crying women on the other side of the dining room. Zoe’s eyes finally leave Dahlia and find me. Her voice rings out in my mind, clear as day, which is surprising considering the strain that I put her magic under earlier today.

I think we should take the Baby Snakes outside for a cool-down. 

That’s a good idea. I’ll place a stasis charm on your food. Do you want one of us to go with you?

No, that’s okay, Dad. I’ll be fine. It’ll be better without the adults.

Zoe smiles up at me and raises her voice above the sound of sobs. “How would you guys like to read a story in the garden?”

As quickly as it started, the wailing stopped and five eager sets of eyes landed on my daughter. Soon, the sobs are replaced with a myriad of young voices clambering for the right to choose the book that Zoe reads.

I stand up, to hopefully stop some of the chaos, but Zoe simply raises her hand, silencing the rest of her cousins. “Whoever can walk, like a Lord or Lady, to the library first will get to pick the book.”

With that, the kids all stand from their seats and march, at a barely restrained pace, toward the library. Zoe winks at me and looks at the rest of the adults, “Dad can call me back when you are done talking. I’ll keep them busy until you are ready for us. Don’t be too mean to Dad, please.”

She drops into a proper curtsy, as she would do if she were truly excused from dinner, and then follows the small army of children tearing through the library.

“She’s far too grown up for her own good,” Blaise mutters under his breath.

Theo sighs and chimes in, “That girl is going to be the death of us.”

I hum in agreement, forgetting for a second, that Pansy and Luna are no longer sitting. In my ruminations about my daughter, I neglected to keep my eyes out for the devious twins, who are now flanking my chair. I feel Pansy’s wand press into my windpipe, ever so slightly, when her voice rings in my ear.

“You best have a good reason as to why you have yet to ask out our dear Miss Granger, or I’ll charm all of your clothes maroon.”

Luna holds my other arm down to the chair, smiling in her ethereal way. The boys just look at me with a small amount of pity, but more humor.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you. But I’d appreciate it if you just resorted to Veritaserum next time, Pansy. Less painful that way.”

Her wand moves away and Luna’s hand lets up. They both walk, graceful, like a pair of cats, to their seats and sit, facing me. I flashed a glare at the boys, hissing through my teeth. “Thanks for the backup, assholes.”

Blaise leans back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Don’t look at me. My wife is terrifying. I’d never stand between her wand and someone else.”

“Ditto, though I have to admit that I’m just curious to hear the answer, so I don’t mind their tactics.” Theo echoes, grasping Luna’s hand in his and running his fingers up and down the length of her arm.

“She’s happy. Did you know that? For the first time since the divorce, she is truly happy and content.” I mumble.

Luna leans into her husband’s touch, meeting my gaze. “I agree with you, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t be happy with you.”

“Are you forgetting one key thing here, Lovegood? I am a Death Eater. And she is the Golden Girl, the darling of the Wizarding World.”

Blaise unfolds himself, tapping one finger against the arm of his chair. “Mate, you have been beating yourself up about this for years. She obviously looked past it, since she hired you. You need to give yourself a chance.”

“He’s right, you know. Most people don’t see you like that anymore. If anything, she is the most famous homewrecker in Europe and you are the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor.” Pansy adds.

I can feel a headache blooming behind my eyes and the tug in my chest sings in answer to each of their points. I close my eyes, trying to block out both sensations. “She’s just. She’s just so fucking good. You should see her at work. Merlin, she throws herself into everything she does. And for some reason she trusts me. Me! I can’t fuck that up by asking for more if she’s not ready.”

I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to see their reactions. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if I do. To my surprise, it’s Theo who ends the silence.

“How will you know if she’s ready if you never ask?”

My eyes snap open to find identical expressions on all of their faces. Well, all except Luna, who is still in that otherworldly space that she always seems to occupy. They all have a mix of pity and determination plastered across their features. For a group taught to conceal our feelings, they are painfully obvious right now.

“I’m not going to get out of this, am I?” I sigh.

“Nope!” Theo half-sings, half-says, popping the P for emphasis.

Pansy stands, hands resting on her hip as she looks down at me. “She will be at the ball tomorrow night. I know for a fact that Adrian invited her. If I don’t see you dancing with her by the end of the night, I will drag you to her myself. By your ear.”

Blaise and Theo chuckle at the image of Pansy dragging me, kicking and screaming, across a dance floor by my ear, the way that my mother used to when I threw a tantrum. 

I look up into the eyes of one of my oldest friends, her unyielding facade softened by the concern and love shining in her eyes. “I promise, I will at least ask her, Pansy. But I don’t expect her to say yes.”

She hugs me quickly and then stands back up, her demeanor shifting violently. “Well, now that that’s over, let’s go find the children and make sure that Zoe hasn’t been overrun.”

We all stand as a group, making our way toward the garden, where the children likely headed after choosing a book. I expect to find the twins running around like madmen and Luca trying to do all sorts of tricks that will likely end in injury, while Lila clings to Zoe’s side. Instead, we are greeted with all five of the youngest cousins sitting in a semi-circle around Zoe as she reads Tales of Beedle the Bard, complete with voices for each character. The other’s eyes are fixed on Zoe while her attention darts from the page, back to the kids. 

Pansy sighs quietly, leaning against her husband’s chest. “We’ve done such a good job, guys.”

Zoe looks up and shakes her head, the move so small that I almost miss it, but her message is clear. I turn toward the rest of the adults. “Hey. Let’s give them a few more minutes. Take the opportunity to have a little more time without kids.”

No one protests as we turn back to head into the house. I linger for just a second, watching my daughter. She looks so content and I stare at her, reading the joy on her face. When I finally walk back inside, I package the memory away and store it in my mind, labeled simply with a smile.

Chapter Text

Zoe

June 18, 2009

I woke up with the sun this morning. I couldn’t possibly stay in bed a second longer, not when Dad and I were going to the Pucey ball tonight. It’s only one of the most important Wizarding Society events of the year. After my coming-out ball, the Pucey ball was the first event that Dad and I attended. It’s my favorite event of the whole year. Lady Pucey was amazing at decorating, the food was almost as good as Effie’s, and the dance floor in the garden was the absolute best. 

I debate waking Dad up, but he isn’t as excited about the ball as I am. He doesn’t like to go to these sorts of things as much as I do, so I let him sleep in. Plus, he was up way late last night talking with my Aunts and Uncles. I would have scolded him since he knew that we needed to be getting ready early today, but he was having so much fun. I haven’t seen Dad laugh that much in one sitting in a very long time. And I think that Aunt Pans might have finally made some headway on getting him to ask out Miss Granger, which he has been putting off for soooooo long.

With my mind made up, I slip on my niffler slippers (Dad charmed them to grow with my feet) and pad downstairs, trying to stay as quiet as possible so I don’t wake him up. I make my way down to the library and slip into my reading nook, pulling my latest text across my lap. It’s a book about the use of varying potions in healing and it is super hard to read, but Uncle Theo says that it is important for me to understand, since I can give Dad potions that are already made without needing a wand. It’s one branch of healing magic that I can practice now, so I have tried to read as much as I can on the subject. Yesterday, I left off on the section about using calming draughts. For the most part, they are helpful when a patient is panicking to the point of hurting themselves, and they can be really good for people who get sad and cry a lot, but you can’t give too many to the same person. They wear off when someone has used them a ton. 

I hear Dad before I see him, while I am reading about some ingredients that can be added to calming draughts to make them better suited for individual patients. Dad isn’t wearing any shoes, cause I can hear his bare feet padding across the library floor. Before he makes it to the nook, I slip my bookmark into place and look up from the pages, finding him still in his pajamas with a peaceful look spread across his face.

“Good morning, my light.” He leans down to kiss my forehead, using one hand to smooth my hair away from the spot that his lips land on. “What’s the topic for today?”

“Calming draughts. Can I watch you brew one this week?” Since I still don’t have a wand, and Dad says that potions are too delicate to make wandless, all I can do now is watch Dad brew. But Dad has yet to turn me down when I asked to watch the process, so I’m not overly worried that he’ll say no. 

“Sure. We will find a night when I can get out of work early, but you’ll need to get all the ingredients set up beforehand.” He ruffles my hair and I try to bat his hands away, knowing that he will end up getting a ton of knots in it if he keeps messing with my hair.

“DAAAD.” I groan.

He giggles and moves his hand away. “I’m surprised that you aren’t already eating breakfast. Isn’t Aunt Pansy supposed to be here in thirty minutes to start working on getting you ready?”

I roll my eyes. Of course, Dad wasn’t paying attention to the change in plans that Aunt Pans and I made last night. “That was the plan, but since Thea and Luc are going too, all the girls are getting ready at the Zabini Manor in a little bit. And Turm is making breakfast for all of us.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you aren’t dressed.” Dad cocks an eyebrow at my pajamas, a silk nightgown with Norwegian Ridgebacks circling the skirt.

“Because we are having a pajama party so that Thea doesn’t get bored.” I drawl.

Dad smirks at my tone. It’s nearly a perfect imitation of his slow way of talking when he thinks that the person he is talking to is an idiot. My lips stretch in a cruel grin while his eyes twinkle with admiration.

“Of course. That obviously makes the most sense.” Dad rolls his eyes, and the sarcasm was evident.

I slap my hand against his arm and place my book down before hopping out of my nook. “So when are you getting ready? Uncle Theo said last night that you were all going to go over to Nott Manor to get ready.”

Dad gently grasps my hand and we walk out of the library toward my room, so I can grab any supplies I might need to bring for tonight, our arms swinging as we walk. “I don’t know. Probably about 10 minutes before.”

I freeze, pulling us to a halt. “You can’t wait that long. That’s so irresponsible. What if it takes you longer than that to get ready? What if you don’t have time to do your hair? What if-”

“We are getting ready about an hour before the event starts, so we have plenty of time to come over and get all of you, sweetheart. Your Aunt would probably murder me if I decided to wait until the last second to prepare for such a prominent event.”

An image of Aunt Pans chasing Dad down with a hairbrush and a murderous expression plastered across her face runs through my head. “I’d probably help her,” I mutter and Dad and I both burst out into ceaseless giggles.

After putting all of my things into a small bag with one of Dad’s extension charms on it, we go back down to the floo lounge and just sit for a few minutes, talking about our plan for the press today. 

That was one thing that Dad was super strict about. Whenever we left the Manor and went on a public outing, we always had to have a strategy for how we would answer questions and what mask we would wear. It didn’t matter whether we were going to a huge event or just going to Diagon Alley to shop, we were always ready for the cameras and journalists that followed us around. Most of the time, the masks stayed the same: Dad the unbothered Lord Malfoy, above everyone else, and me, his loyal daughter who was demure and polite and never spoke out of turn. Sometimes, Dad would be more relaxed and I would be more talkative, but it was entirely dependent on the activity that we were going to be engaged in. Regardless, every quote and image of the Malfoy family in public was carefully crafted, and today was no exception.

We ultimately decided that it would be best to maintain the same mask as usual. I couldn’t be overly excited about the ball, because I can’t seem to favor one event over another. Dad would be aloof, not truly looking forward to the event, but not frustrated by the need for his presence. He would have to play the role of unattached bachelor, seeking a wife, but he would spend the majority of his time with me, only dancing with potential Ladies if he was interested, which he definitely wouldn’t be. I would only get to dance with other boys if they approached Dad or one of my Aunts and Uncles first, as all young Ladies should. I don’t particularly like the idea of hiding behind Dad, but it does follow proper etiquette. It is important, as the future Heir to the Malfoy title, that I look the part, so I don’t complain. At least not to Dad.

Dad casts a quick Tempus charm and I read the numbers in the air. Crap. I’m supposed to be over at Aunt Pans’ already. I give Dad a quick peck on the cheek, stretching on my tiptoes, before running to the floo and calling out “Zabini Manor.”

Aunt Pans is waiting for me when the flames die down with a frown on her face. I should be a little more worried, but her eyes are lit up with mischief. “And why, my darling niece, are you late?”

I scoff, trying to make myself look like a haughty princess, a look that Aunt Pans can do with ease. “Everyone knows that you should not show up to an event on time. Terribly unfashionable if you ask me.”

My chin tilts up and our eyes meet, daring the other to break first. We both lose it at the same time, giggling incessantly. Aunt Pans take my hand and we start moving toward her suite upstairs where we will be getting ready.

It isn’t really Aunt Pans’ suite. She shares a bedroom and suite with Uncle Z, but she has a collection of rooms that used to be hers when she visited before they got married. The rooms are bright and airy, a stark contrast to the mask that she normally wears. The antechamber is covered in a light, yellow wallpaper with a fleur de Lis pattern. There are two light brown armchairs with golden buttons up the arms that are arranged in an inviting manner, just beyond the door. 

The room has two different doors on opposite sides of the armchairs, one leading into a spacious bathroom, a stark white room accented with soft teals and blues. The shower is surrounded by clear glass, like a tank, all the way around, and a large clawfoot tub rests just next to the shower. There is a double sink next to the large mirror, and the counter is made of white marble. 

The final door from the sitting room leads into a bedroom that is mint green in color. The queen-size bed that fills most of one wall, is adorned with a fluffy white comforter while navy blue curtains fall around all sides of the golden bed frame. The dressers that cover much of another wall are a chestnut color with gold handles and detailing. On the far side of the room, the windows open to a magnificent view of the pool, glittering in the sunlight. The closet is nestled in the back of the room, but it is no less impressive. In fact, the closet is nearly as big as the antechamber, with enough room for five adults to fit comfortably, or lots of kids. The entire group of us Baby Snakes have fit in the closet without anyone getting stepped on, which is a feat in and of itself. There is a white ottoman in the center of the closet and every item in the space is organized in a system that only Aunt Pans knows.

Usually, this suite is closed off and quiet. No one goes in unless Aunt Pans want or let them in, so the rooms are undisturbed. Now, there is loud music blaring from a radio in the bedroom, and the bathroom counter has makeup and hair tools spread across it as if someone dumped the entire contents of their vanity onto it. 

My lips raised in a smile at the sight. Part of the reason that I love going to these events so much is that I get the chance to be a princess. Uncle Theo jokes that I am always a princess, but I only let people see it at these events. Aunt Pans take that feeling to heart and make sure that I am perfect when I go to these things. Everything from my hair, to my face, to my shoes are done to perfection, matching Dad and presenting whatever image Dad and Pans talked about beforehand. I love the chaos of having several people working on me at once, and Aunt Pans always make doing my hair and makeup fun, no matter what. 

Thea and Aunt Luna are sitting on two conjured stools in the bathroom, arguing about what makeup shade Thea should wear. As I follow Aunt Pans into the bathroom, I catch the end of their conversation.

“Yellow is a beautiful color, but I am afraid that it might make you look ill with your white dress. Why don’t we ask your Aunt?” Aunt Lu tells Thea in her floaty voice, dragging her gaze toward us.

Aunt Pans, unfazed by the suggestion that has me wrinkling my nose in disgust, glides over to Thea, taking a small brush in hand. “Why don’t we try a blue, so it makes your eyes sparkle? Does that sound alright, honey?”

Thea sniffs once, obviously just getting over tears at the thought of not getting to use her favorite color, and nods at Aunt Pans. Pans don’t miss a beat, immediately reaching for a color pallet to show Thea, so she can choose her favorite shade. 

I move to the sink, splashing my face a few times with some warm water and then patting it dry with a towel, just like Aunt Pans taught me. Aunt Lu wanders over to the stool that I am now sitting on, in front of the large mirror, as I gather supplies necessary for my look. 

“Are you ready for tonight, little star?”

“So ready.” I quip back, my hand grasping a neutral pallet, perfect for the smoky look that Aunt Pans and I had talked about yesterday.

“You know, there will be lots of young men there today.”

“There’s going to be a lot of people there, Aunt Lu. Not just young men.” I glance at her. Hopefully, she realizes my attempt to change the conversation and drops it.

“Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?” Guess I’m not that lucky.

I grab a brush and start covering my face in the powder that matches my pale skin. Aunt Pans call is setting powder. “Not really, Aunt Lu. I just want to go and dance with Dad tonight.”

Her blue eyes twinkle and I can almost see her next sentence on her lips, but just before she can start talking, Aunt Pans come over, armed with brushes and more colors for my eyes. 

“I think I averted that crisis, Luna, but she wants you to finish her makeup. Then we can get started on hair before we get some lunch.”

Aunt Lu looks back at me and nods her head, slightly, before going back toward Thea, who looks every bit as ethereal as her mom with that sparkly blue shadow dusting her eyelids.

Aunt Pans follows my gaze, understanding flashing across her face. She grips my chin lightly, tilting my head up toward hers so she can use the light while she pokes and brushes my face with varying bits of makeup. My eyes are closed, to make sure that she doesn’t accidentally get any powder in my eyes. 

“What did your dear Aunt say to make you focus on her that much?” Aunt Pans ask, the brush dotting over my eyelids.

“Nothing,” I answer, way too quickly to actually be innocent.

I can almost feel Aunt Pans’ stare, weeding out the lie for what it is. “Oh really?” She probably has her eyebrow raised right now, daring me to continue lying.

I sigh, trying not to move too much as I do. “I think that she thinks I need to start dating, but I’m way too young for that. Plus most of the boys my age are gross. I mean, have you seen James Potter? He is always sticky and he only ever wears those ridiculous Quidditch shirts that are way too big for him. He doesn’t speak as a Lord should. And he is super rude. He never waits for me to finish my thoughts when we talk. Plus, he doesn’t even read for fun. Can you believe that Aunt Pans?”

She taps my chin with a long finger, the signal that tells me to open my eyes so she can add some brown liquid stuff to my eyelashes. Before she lets me look up to the ceiling, the way I will when she adds that makeup, she meets my eyes. “She wasn’t suggesting that you date. You are far too young for that. All Aunt Lu wants is for you to have some more friends.”

My eyes move to the ceiling, grateful for the opportunity to avoid Aunt Pans’ piercing stare. “I have friends. The Baby Snakes are my friends.”

“They are your family. There is a difference. And none of them are your own age.” 

“Then why wouldn’t Aunt Lu and Effie suggest that I make friends with girls my age too?” Her hand leaves my face, so I bring my eyes back to her own. 

“I’m not sure, my darling. But Zoe, we all just want what’s best for you.” Her eyes glitter like she is about to cry, but she snuffs once and then looks over to Thea and Aunt Lu. “Athena, you look magnificent darling. Why don’t you go and play in the other room with Zoe while your Mum and I finish our own makeup?”

Both of my Aunts watch me take Thea’s hand and lead her out of the room. I can hear them talking as I leave the room, but I don’t look back. Dad doesn’t keep secrets from me anymore, but my Aunts and Uncles are a bit different. I’ll let them have their secrets for now.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of brushes, pins, and glitter. In the span of what felt like minutes, but was actually hours, Aunt Lu, Aunt Pans, Thea, and I are dressed and ready for the ball.

Aunt Lu matches her airiness with a flowy white gown with bell sleeves. The fabric is covered in a sheer layer that sparkles in rainbow colors when the light hits it. Her shoes are white flats with straps that wrap around the bottom of her legs. Her hair is mostly down, falling in bouncy curls, while her makeup is light and understated. 

Thea is every inch Aunt Lu’s daughter. She is also in a white dress that falls to her knees. It is cinched at the waist but poofs out in a large skirt. There are silver details added to the skirt in the shape of the moon, an homage to her mom. Her wavy black hair is twisted into an elaborate ponytail that falls over her left shoulder, mostly so she doesn’t fiddle with it. Her makeup is equally as light and barely there as Aunt Lu’s. She looks like the slightly darker version of her Mom.

Aunt Pans is terrifying, as usual. Her dress is blood red, a color that still makes my stomach roil slightly. It is studded with diamonds all over, in a pattern that makes it look like she was in a rainstorm, but instead of water, diamonds fell from the sky. The dress is tight fitting and has what Aunt Pans calls a “keyhole neckline.” Basically, she has a hole in the high neck of her dress. She has on strappy black heels that are super high, so high that she never even lets me try them on because she is scared that I will fall and break my ankle. Her hair is perfectly straight, her bob hairstyle falling against the giant silver hoops in her ears. Her makeup is the best part. She has dark eyeshadow and deep, red lip color that kinda makes her look like a vampire.

I look out of place against them, but I will look like the missing twin to my Dad when we catch up to him. My dress is a strapless emerald green gown that darkens as it closer to the ground, ending it a rich black. The dress has an underskirt that keeps the skirt from sticking to my legs, without it looking too poofy. The top is tight to my chest, until my ribs end and the skirt begins. My feet are snug in my own pair of strappy, black heels that twine around my legs. They aren’t nearly as high as Aunt Pans’ shoes. My hair is mostly down and curled in gentle curls that fall all around my shoulders, all the way to my waist. However, there are three braids on either side of my head that join in the back to fall into a curled ponytail, keeping most of my hair out of my face. For my makeup, I have done a thing called the smokey eye, where I have on a dark eyeshadow that makes my eyes pop, but the inside of my eyelid is light so it makes my eyes look bigger. My lips are colored with a purplish red that stands out starkly against my pale skin. To top it all off, I have a silver necklace with one large emerald pendant on the end, falling just to the top of the dress. It’s my portkey, in case I need it tonight, should something go wrong. I look like the Princess of Slytherin House, and a proper Lady for the House of Malfoy. I can’t wait until Dad sees me. His jaw is going to drop.

With all of us girls dressed and ready, we go to the main floo parlor, waiting for the boys to come and pick us up. They were supposed to have been getting ready while we were, but I doubt they spent nearly as long as we did. It is highly likely that we will have to wait because Uncle Theo forgot to put something on, or Luc was putting up a fight since he absolutely hated wearing suits.

Luckily, the boys must have been on top of things today because they were only 10 minutes late, though Aunt Pans still gave them a stern talking to. I probably should have looked at everyone else, but my attention was drawn to Dad, trying to see what Aunt Pans picked out for him to match me.

Dad is the prince of darkness in a night black suit. The only color that he has on him is the emerald green tie that matches the top of my dress. His hair is slicked back and his shoes are so shiny that I can see my reflection in them. There is a small pocket on the back of his left arm that his wand sits comfortably in, blending into the rest of the outfit. 

Dad strides for me, taking my hand in his, and twirls me around, letting my skirts billow around me. His hand is smooth, and his normal callouses vanished for the night, in case he does want to dance with other people. He probably won’t though. He never does.

“You look breathtaking, Zoe.” He whispers to me when I finish twirling, my skirts continuing to wrap around my legs on a phantom breeze.

Uncle Theo breaks us apart, pushing Dad out of the way and grasping both my hands, stretching our arms out between us. “Well, don’t you look like the best-dressed snake in town.”

“I don’t know. Aunt Pans look better than me.” I shoot back, with a wink, raising my voice just enough for her to hear us from across the room. 

She looks up from straightening Luc’s tie and smoothing his hair. “I don’t know about that, but I do know that we are going to be late if we don’t get moving.”

With that, the chaos ebbs, just slightly as families group together and we get into the order that we will appear at the event. Dad and I bring up the rear, with the Zabini’s leading the group. Dad and I always come in last. We are the most senior family, which means that we are the most important, so we have to show up last to make the biggest impression. In front of us, Luc bounces with anticipation, and Aunt Pans have to pull on his sleeve to get him to stop. It will be Luc and Thea’s first big society event after their coming-out balls and they are both so nervous. I will probably have to check on them after we get through the reporters.

Dad holds my hand in his and we wait for the other families to pass through the floo. I think of the youngest Baby Snakes, likely asleep under the watchful eyes of Mopsy and Turm in Nott Manor. We count to sixty, giving the other groups plenty of time to get ahead of us before we make our appearance.

“Mask up, darling.” Dad looks down and I and I can practically see the wall that he builds in his mind as his face morphs into the mask for tonight. I close my eyes for just a second, focusing on my role for tonight. I can feel my face falling into a calm, but shy smile. One that makes me approachable, yet still like a proper lady. My eyes soften, just a bit, but I let some of my fire peek out.

Once Dad believes that my mask is firmly in place, he tugs me toward the fireplace and yells, “Pucey Estate.” We don’t even take a step out of the flames before I see the first flash of a camera. Dad steps forward and I match his pace, just the slightest bit behind him, as is my place for the night.

The flashes are blinding and there are too many shouts to focus my attention in any one direction. Instead, I rotate my body, raising my unoccupied hand to wave at the countless people vying for my attention. Dad and I keep walking and some of the questions get more clear. I listen to each, choosing which I will respond to based on Dad and I’s plan from earlier.

“Who made your dress, Miss Malfoy?”

“Are you meeting any witches here tonight, Lord Malfoy?”

“What do you have to say about the Ministry announcing audits of ancestral Wizarding homes?”

“Are there any betrothal contract negotiations on the horizon for you, Miss Malfoy?”

“What school will you be attending next year?”

The questions come at a fast pace and it gives me a bit of a headache trying to keep up with them. Dad answers a few of his own questions and gives me a slight nod, telling me I can answer my own pre-determined questions.

I raise my chin, channeling Aunt Pans, and try to focus on where I think I heard certain questions. “My dress, and my father’s suit, are both items in a new collection by Pansy Zabini.”

Another swivel and I am facing a new reporter. “My father believes in allowing me to choose whom I marry. I am far too young to start thinking about that now.” I throw in a small laugh, nowhere near my real laugh, just to illustrate my point. The reporter seems to accept the answer and goes back to flashing pictures of Dad and me.

I stand close to his side for a few more minutes, basking in the attention of the countless people lined up next to us, just clamoring for the smallest glance of me. Dad squeezes my hand tight, a question in the gesture. I look up at him and open my mind.

Is something wrong, Dad?

No, my light. It is just time for us to go and enjoy the party.

I nod and look back toward the flashes, giving my small smile again. We start moving toward the wards, designed to keep all the reporters away from the actual event. The voices follow us all the way through the row of people until we pass through the wall of wards. I can almost feel the magic clinging to me while I pass through, following just behind Dad.

The silence of the grounds without the questions and camera noises is deafening. I don’t mind posing for all the pictures, but I know that Dad hates it. He lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes and dropping his mask for a small moment. His shoulders slump and he curls into himself, but, just like that, his mask is back and he stands as tall as ever.

“Malfoy! Wasn’t sure if you would be gracing us with your presence this evening.” Lord Pucey’s voice is loud and low. It fills up the space, as does the man to that it is attached. He is tall and broad-shouldered, but he has a kindness to his eyes that allows me to relax just a little around him, though I stay close to Dad’s side. 

He comes over and claps Dad on the back in a friendly gesture. Dad stiffens a little, but allows the movement before grasping his hand and shaking it firmly. “We couldn’t possibly turn down your invitation. You remember my daughter, Zowena?”

On cue, I step forward, extending my hand gently. He holds it, like something that is going to break if he grabs it with any strength, and I drop into a perfect curtsy, while he kisses my knuckles. “Lord Pucey,” I say, with a dip of my head. “It is a pleasure to attend your ball this year.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Zowena.” He smiles at me, the kind of smile an adult gives a child when they think the child has done something that is on the cusp of maturity. I hate that kind of smile, but I stay true to my mask and keep my smile firmly in place.

Dad comes up behind me and strokes his hand down my back. He must have noticed my jaw clenching at the tone or maybe the fact that my smile doesn’t reach my eyes anymore. Regardless, Dad knows I am uncomfortable. 

“We shouldn’t linger. Your wife would think us exceptionally rude. We must go and meet some of your other guests. I’m sure we will catch up later.” A dismissal if I ever heard one.

Lord Pucey seems to recognize it as well and he inclines his head toward us. “Of course. Enjoy the festivities.”

Dad pushes my lower back, just enough to tell me that we need to move again, and we finally make our way toward my favorite area of any ball: the dance floor. 

The Pucey ball is my favorite for a lot of reasons, but the main one is the beautiful dance floor in the center of their garden. The whole ball takes place outside and the dance floor is an intricate marble pattern, laid into the ground in a circle surrounded by a magical fountain of a unicorn. The tiles sparkle underneath your feet if you dance the right way. When it gets dark outside, there are fairy lights that twinkle above the dance floor. There is so much magic around the floor that you can almost taste it in the air. Even Dad likes the dance floor here, which is saying something since he generally doesn’t like these sorts of things.

If it were up to me, we would go straight to the dance floor now and never leave, but we need to do some mingling first. Ughhh. I look around the space, taking note of where the refreshment table is and where the rest of the Snakes are. Once I spot Aunt Pans, the rest of them are easy to find and pick out from the crowd. Dad and I might join them, but not until we have pretended to care about a bunch of other important people here.

While Dad talks to the group of businessmen before us, I go through my next habit, instilled in me by Dad. Always know where the exits are, he would say. You need to have escape routes planned if something goes wrong. Take in all your surroundings. It’s kinda weird since there are so many wards around the ball tonight, but I do it anyway, knowing that Dad might quiz me later. I don’t want to disappoint him, so I mark the entrance to the hedge maze, the pool on the opposite side of the dance floor, and the manor just beyond the party’s edge. 

We spend almost a whole hour just walking around the edge of the dance floor, inches away from where I really want to be while Dad has meaningless conversations with people that he doesn’t care about. I must be letting my mask slip cause I can feel the brush of Dad’s mind against mine.

Focus, my darling. Not much longer.

I breathe in and try to focus more on the conversation that is happening in front of me, but thankfully I catch Dad making some excuse to leave. A weight is lifted off my chest as we move toward the dance floor, just as the band strikes up a waltz, one of my favorites from practice.

I’m not entirely sure why I like dancing. Maybe because it’s one of the things that Dad and I can always do after a long day, pretty much anywhere. Maybe I just like teaching it to all of my cousins. Or maybe it’s because I love the feeling of performing a perfect routine. It feels like flying when Dad twirls me around and lifts me in time to beautiful music. Whatever it may be, dancing is one of the few activities I can do during these events that don’t require a mask, and it is where I feel most like the princess that Uncle Theo believes I am.

Dad takes my hand in his and our arms meet in a proper hold, strong and steady as the song begins. Our steps are poised, each perfectly placed while we start to move around the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a few of the other dancers moving out of our way. I don’t bother to spare them more than that glance. Instead, I focus on Dad, letting him lead me into a routine that feels as easy as breathing.

He twirls me, the skirt of my dress smacking against his legs and my hair flying around my face. When we come back together, we take a few more steps before he releases me and prepares for my favorite lift. His hands on my waist are confident while he hoists me above his head and spins, giving me a full view of everyone watching us as we move. My smile is far bigger than the constrained one I gave to everyone before this moment, but I don’t care. 

When Dad finally lets me down, my head feels like it is floating. The rest of the dance is simple, just a pattern of footwork around the now shimmering floor, so Dad and I take our opportunity to talk without listening ears.

“How are you doing? I know that there was a lot more talking than normal today.” Concern laces Dad’s words. I’m too happy from the dancing to care about the boredom from earlier.

“I’m fine. I know that is important. I’m sorry for forgetting to keep my mask up.”

Dad grips my hand in his a little firmer. “Don’t apologize. You just need to be more aware of your surroundings. How many exits?”

I sigh. Why did Dad have to ruin such a good moment? “There are three, though one is probably not a good option. I could run into the hedge maze and hope to lose someone while I follow the left wall to find my way out. Or I could go back the way we came in. If neither of those work, I could try my luck navigating through the manor and going out the front door, but that’s probably not smart, since I don’t know what their wards are like.”

Dad smiles. I must have gotten all of the options that he was thinking of. At least I could make him happy, even if he brought my own mood down. My eyes leave him and search around the ball and that’s when I see her.

She is wearing gold. It’s probably because of that nickname that the paper sometimes uses for her. The dress is high-necked, with straps that cover her shoulders but come in before flaring out around her chest. The skirt is huge and it sparkles in the fairy light. Her hair, the crazy curls, is coiled into a weird bun on top of her head. Whoever did her hair wasn’t the best, cause there are a ton of pieces falling out of the hairstyle, making her look a little haphazard. I can’t even see her makeup from here, so it’s obviously not done well. 

Dad spins us around and I can see his eyes land on her. His entire face changes. His eyes darken at the same time that his mouth falls open in a very undignified manner. I step on his foot, just lightly enough to get his attention and when his eyes snap back to me, I try to mimic a look that I have seen on Uncle Z’s face a million times. It is his look when he knows something that he shouldn’t and he wants you to know it. My mouth tilts up into a smirk and Dad rolls his eyes at my antics. I definitely don’t have the same effect on him as Uncle Z does, but I steal my opening while I can.

“You should ask her to dance.”

Dad almost misses a step, which has never happened before. Ever. “Wh- . . . Bu- . . . What . . . I have”

“Are you really going to tell me that you weren’t just staring at her a second ago?”

He looks at me, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Are you in on this too? Merlin, I thought it was just your Aunts and Uncles.”

“I haven’t talked to anyone about it. Well except Aunt Pans, but she mentioned it first, I swear.”

“Do you honestly want me to go over there?”

We spin again and my eyes fall onto the group of our family, huddled by the refreshment table. Aunt Pans is looking between Dad and Miss Granger, something hopeful in her expression. “I don’t know, Dad. But it’s not my decision to make. Do you want to go over there?”

He thinks for a moment and then mutters, quietly, “I do.”

“Then go.”

“It’s not that easy, Zoe.” His voice is still quiet, but there is something more to it. I don’t know what, but it makes me uncomfortable.

“Why? You like her. She likes you. You aren’t dating anyone and neither is she.”

“I can’t just”

I almost pull my hands out of his grip. “You can and you will. I will go over and hang out with the Baby Snakes for a little bit. I bet Aunt Pans would love the help with Luc. If Miss Granger says no, you can come back over and we can leave.”

We stare at each other and I practically dare him to look away first. Neither of us breaks, but we step apart when the musicians end the song and we start to walk toward the Snakes. 

Dad squeezes my hand twice. “I love you, Zoe.”

I stop and turn toward him. “I love you too, Dad. Now go and get her.”

I make a shooing motion with my hands and Dad turns from me, his lips tilted in a small smile. The same expression stretches across my face and I make my way through the crowd of people to my cousins. 

Aunt Lu speaks first. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself out there, Zoe.”

My eyes twinkle, matching the fairy lights. “I love this dance floor. It is the best.”

“Well now, that’s going a bit far, wouldn’t you say? I mean, you have seen our dance floor, haven’t you?” Uncle Theo chimes in, humor coating every word. The Nott Manor had a dance floor, but it is so damaged from curses that you couldn’t use it even if you spent years repairing it. You’d probably walk away missing an arm, and that’s if you were lucky.

I giggle, softly, maintaining my composure in case someone walks by. “Hmmm. I had forgotten about that floor. I might have to re-evaluate.”

“Oh. And how long is that going to take, because I’m pretty sure the award is given out tonight.”

Uncle Theo’s eyes glitter at our banter. “How unfortunate.” I drawl. “The earliest I can get back to you is in three to five business days. Well, better luck next year.”

He darts around me and picks me up around my waist, spinning me in a manner wholly different from the way that Dad spun me only a few minutes ago. 

“Teddy Bear put Zoe down or you’ll wreck her hair.” Uncle Theo does Aunt Lu’s bidding and she comes over, grabbing my hand. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about earlier?”

“Aunt Lu!” I can’t believe she is still worried about that. It’s not like anyone has approached me to ask to dance. Actually, there aren’t really that many people here tonight that are my age. I haven’t noticed any other kids who I could talk to, even if I wanted to.

“If it truly makes you uncomfortable, I won’t ask again. Will you take a walk with me?” Her eyes hold mischief and one part of me wants to stay back, but another part of me screams to move to a different part of the garden. I don’t know why and I don’t know if Aunt Lu knows either. I just take her hand and allow her to lead me around the space.

I notice the distinct absence of Miss Granger in the place where she was standing a few minutes ago and I turn my attention toward the dance floor, trusting Aunt Lu to keep me from running into people as we move through the crowds. 

Dad and Miss Granger are in the middle of the floor, and Dad trying to keep her in a hold, but failing because she keeps collapsing her arms and moving into his personal space. They look like polar opposites. Dad is the picture of elegance and darkness. The prince of Slytherin is dark and imposing. She looks like a ray of pure sunlight, blazing through the ballroom. Everything about her screams freedom and she looks kind of wild. Despite the fact that they couldn’t be more different, they fit together. The smile on Dad’s face is easy and she has a similar expression on her face. My heart clenches and somersaults at the sight and something in my chest starts to hurt at the sight.

There is a tug on my arm, one that I wasn’t expecting. Before I can stop myself, I am tripping over my own feet in an effort to twist toward the tug. I’m going to hit the ground, in front of all of these people. I try to move so that I don’t land on my wrist, not wanting to break it, but a pair of hands grip my wrists before I can even feel the floor beneath me. 

In that split second, I am standing upright again and staring into a set of sparkling sapphire blue eyes. There are flecks of gold littered throughout the eyes, making them shine in the fairy lights around the floor and they are wide with concern. I feel stuck to the spot, not wanting to move my gaze away from the stranger, but I yank my eyes away and they fall off the hair first, then the cocky grin, and finally the 

Oh, Morgana.

The hands. I know those hands.

They are luckily free of the slime that usually coats them, but I’d know those hands anywhere. The ones that are always unexplainably covered in sticky substances. The ones attached to sodding James Potter.

“Woah! I thought that princesses knew how to walk. Are you having troubles with that, Zo-wen-ah?” James sneers at me. I bristle at him as he intentionally uses my full name, knowing that I hate it. 

“I tripped over your ego, which is far too big for your tiny body.” I spit right back.

My glare is icy. I can’t believe that Aunt Lu brought me over here. The traitor. I want to glare at her, but there are too many people around. Someone will ask questions and I can’t afford to lose that part of my mask. 

I turn, simultaneously raising my chin, so I can see Auror Potter and his wife standing with Aunt Lu. Al isn’t here. Dammit. I was hoping that I could get away with dancing with him and avoid the utter chaos next to me. Now I know why Aunt Lu wanted to bring me over here. Please no. Not with him. Not tonight. 

“Zoe, you look beautiful.” Mrs. Potter says. She turns her own eyes to her son. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, James?”

He huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. “She’s wearing green.” He grumbles.

I actually look at him now. Really look at him. Thankfully that weird feeling in my chest is gone, so I try to take in as many details as I can. Dad says that details are important when dealing with the people you are trying to arrest. The suit that James is wearing doesn’t fit him all that well. It’s too big and the color is all wrong for him. It is a dark grey that makes him look pale, and the vest is a deep maroon. It blends into the jacket too much, making it look like he was trying to be dark when he dressed. It’s the opposite of his personality. He looks older, not all like the carefree look he normally wears.

Someone clears their throat and both James and I jump, turning toward the noise. Was I staring at him? No, I definitely wasn’t staring. But why did he jump too? Was he staring at me? Why would he be staring at me?

“Pardon me, Auror Potter and Mrs. Potter. It’s a pleasure to see you both here.”

No one mentions the fact that I left James out. 

Aunt Lu smiles down at both of us. “James, aren’t you going to ask her?”

“Ask me what?” I accuse.

He mumbles the first time before Auror Potter chastises him and insists that he speak up. “Do you want to dance with me?”

“Dance? With you?” I know that my mouth is hanging open. My mask is totally gone.

James doesn’t respond. Instead, Mrs. Potter responds for him, pushing the two of us toward the dance floor. “He would love to.”

Aunt Lu has a sparkle in her eyes that matches the one in Mrs. Potter’s gaze. I stumble for just a step, but it’s enough for James to notice.

“Don’t think you can say that was my ego this time, princess.”

“Nope. It was your leash. Does your Mommy always make decisions for you?”

James splutters, unable to come up with a response. Yes! Point for me.

He hesitates just before the dance floor and I roll my eyes, grabbing his smooth hand. “Come one. Let’s get this over with since they will probably drag us over here if we don’t do it by ourselves. I certainly don’t want to spend the rest of my night with you.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” He quips back, but he doesn’t fight me while I lead him onto the floor and step into the frame.

I try to get him into hold, but he makes the same mistake as Miss Granger. There is no strength in his arms and he ends up folding himself way too close to me. So close I can almost count his eyelashes and I can feel his breath on my cheek. He realizes how close he is a second before I can point it out and he steps backwards.

I try to start the dance, but he clearly doesn’t know the steps and he isn’t leading. After a few steps in, he has stepped on my toes at least five times, causing me to cringe each time. “Will you stop doing that?” I hiss under my breath.

“Am I not up to your normal standards, princess? My deepest and most humble apologies, Your Majesty.” He dips his head in a mocking bow.

“Will you stop calling me that?” I seethe.

He shakes his head. “What? Princess? Not until I come up with a better nickname for you.” 

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you just call me Zoe, like everyone else?”

Another shake. “Nah. Too basic. Not a good nickname if everyone uses it. Plus, I like how much Princess bothers you.” Then he sticks his tongue out at me.

I have to fight to not roll my eyes. “Fine. Just keep your comments to a minimum. The song is almost over and then we can be done.”

We don’t say anything else for the rest of the dance, but his arms do get a little stronger. They are still horrendous and any dance teacher worth anything would be pulling their hair out, but he only steps on my feet four more times. 

When the song ends, we can’t jump apart fast enough. I see Dad leaving the dance floor, a dazed look on his face, and I make a beeline straight to him. That weird feeling in my chest is back, but I don’t care. The further I can get away from James, the better. I only look back once, but it turns out that James had the same idea. Our eyes meet across the floor and something about his gaze makes me hold his stare for a second. Just a second. Then it is gone and we are turning from each other again.

Dad doesn’t notice me at first, but when he does, his mouth knits into a frown. “What’s wrong?” He looks behind me. He must see James walking away and he looks at me with understanding.

Crap. My mask is down. I try to hurry and haul a tired smile onto my face, aware of people watching. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Are you ready to go?”

Dad looks over my shoulder again at someone, nods, and then takes my hand, rubbing small circles into the back. “Of course. Let’s get out of here and see if Effie has any gelato?”

I don’t fight the smile that takes over my face at the thought of some creamy, chocolate gelato after being outside for so long. We walk back toward the way we came and there is a prickling sensation on my neck like someone is watching me. I look to Dad first to see if he feels the same thing. He must not. At least, he isn’t moving like feels it.

I chance a final look over my shoulder to find James’ gaze glued on me. I couldn’t say what made me watch him for a few seconds. Instead, I just match the intensity in those emerald green eyes.

As Dad and I leave the ball, I think of only two things. One: I am going to have a chat with Aunt Lu about blindsiding me like that. And two: I absolutely hate James Potter.

Chapter Text

Draco

June 25, 2009

The last thing I wanted to do a week after the Pucey Ball was have dinner with the Potters, but here I am, tying my shoes to floo over to their house of chaos. Zoe had practically hounded me all week about canceling this month’s dinner and I had resisted at every turn. Now, as I am debating what shoes I am willing to get rid of after they are destroyed by the hurricane that is the Potter children, I wish I had just postponed this blasted dinner.

I was a little surprised that Zoe was so adamant about missing the dinner since she usually insisted on seeing Al. She wouldn’t tell me why she didn’t want to go this month, just that she didn’t. I wasn’t going to push her. When she was ready to talk, she would and I would be here to listen.

Zoe is waiting for me in the floo parlor, in a simple black skirt and a deep, forest green blouse with sheer sleeves covering her arms to the elbows. It’s a far less formal outfit than she would normally wear. For the past year, the Weaselette has been trying to convince Zoe to relax her wardrobe, and despite the fact that her dresses always came back in various states of disrepair, Zoe refused to entertain the idea of wearing anything less than her best. Until today.

She must have heard my footsteps because she turns to watch me approach the fireplace. “Are you ready for tonight?”

She scoffs, a haughty expression overtaking her formerly placid face. “I’m always ready Dad. As long as James” The venom in her voice is biting. “doesn’t say anything to me, then I’ll be fine.”

She hadn’t told me what happened while I was dancing with Granger at the ball, but I knew that Luna had cornered her into dancing with James. She wasn’t hurt, but she was in a hurry to leave the ball and she was more frustrated than she usually is after those sorts of events. He must have done something to her or said something. A twinge of guilt pangs through me. This must be why she didn’t want to come tonight. And now, she is mere seconds away from facing him again. Damn my pride to hell for refusing to cancel, but it’s too late now.

I don’t have the words to express everything I want to at this moment, and she likely won’t appreciate any groveling on my end, so I just grip her hand tightly, stand up and reach for the floo parlor.

We don’t get a second to acclimate to the new residence before we are assaulted with the chaos that seems to permeate the Potter residence. A child screams to our left while an owl angrily taps on a window, likely in the kitchen only a few rooms away. It must have been waiting a long time for it to be tapping with this much insistence. 

From somewhere near the screaming, the Weaselette’s voice booms through the hallways. I’d bet my fortune that she is using a Sonorus charm, judging purely on the volume of the shrieks. “LILY LUNA POTTER! IF I SEE YOU THROW ONE MORE SHOE, YOU WILL HAVE NO BROOM FOR A MONTH!!!”

Zoe grimaced, her mask faltering for a second, whether at the noise itself or at the threat, I have no idea. I don’t have much time to ponder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a streak of red-hair barrelling towards me at break-neck speed, an irate Weaselette nearly fuming at the other end of the hall.

Zoe chuckles at me while I brace myself against the onslaught of Lily, who for some strange reason had decided that I was the “best dragon ever.”

“Save me, Mr. Malfoy!” She grips my leg tightly, squeezing the muscle to an almost painful level, and buries her face in my thigh.

I pet her head, scowling at Zoe while she giggles at my predicament. “And what exactly am I saving you from?”

“Lily Luna, you have shoes to put away. Upstairs! Now!” The Weaselette had made her way down the hallway and now stands just to the side of me, staring down at her child with fire in her eyes.

Much to my dismay, Lily buries her face deeper into my leg and Zoe no longer holds onto her mask. She lets out a deep laugh at my predicament, shaking her head at the antics of the five-year-old girl. Before Weaselette can grab for the girl, Zoe darts in front of the irate mother’s hands and pries Lily off of my leg.

“Hey, Lils. Can you show me what shoes need to be put away?” Zoe’s eyes dart between the two red-heads, her gaze pleading when she looks at the oldest ginger.

Lily lifts her head from my leg, releasing the death grip and allowing my pants to return to their normal length, though with a noticeable wet spot from her nose. The Ginger Terror sees the spot at the same time I do, her face breaking into a wide smile. She barely registers Zoe pulling Lily behind her towards the hallway that they came from.

“Not one word from you, Weaselette.” I hold up my right hand, raising one finger to stop any words that might tumble out of the ginger’s mouth. Meanwhile, I wave my wand, casting a wordless Scourgify to remove the stain, knowing that it is likely one of many I will be forced to deal with tonight.

She reaches out, likely trying to punch my arm. I move, just in time, and her fist collides with nothing but air. “How many times am I going to have to remind you that it’s Potter now?”

“You and the Chosen Git could have been married for seventy years, and you’ll still be Weaselette to me.” Despite the mask that I put up, nonchalant and aloof, the smallest bit of fondness seeps into my words. I hope she doesn’t catch it. Can’t have her thinking that I care about her, now can I?

She just smiles and shakes her head, moving past me toward the kitchen. “You’re going to have to get used to me at some point, Ferret. My daughter is pretty attached.”

“Well, she obviously has the best taste out of you lot.” 

I follow Ginny into the kitchen, which is a complete and utter mess. There are bowls and mixing spoons all over the counter. Stains of various types of food, I think, haphazardly cover nearly every surface. There are various toys strewn about the space, including a child’s broom so carelessly discarded in the corner. It’s not an unusual sight at this house, so I try to force down the grimace that threatens to overtake my mask.

“After today, you can have her. She has been a little terror. Maybe a few days with you would make her into a proper lady. Or she would learn very valuable animal handling skills, being forced in close proximity to a ferret for a long stretch of time.”

“Are you ever going to come up with a more clever joke, Red? I mean, honestly, it’s been nearly fifteen years and you haven’t come up with anything better?”

She just laughs and starts getting plates out of a cupboard next to the Muggle sink. “Why would I bother to come up with something new when it clearly bothers you.” The grin she flashes me is nothing short of wicked.

“Trust me, Weaselete, the day you get under my skin will be the day that the world ends.” A patented Malfoy smirk stretches across my face.

She just continues to grin, challenge flashing through her stark blue eyes. She opens her mouth to throw another retort at me but stops at the sound of Potter’s dulcet tones. “Gin, have you seen Albus’ book? He and I have torn apart his room but we can’t seem to . . .”

He comes around the corner, his eyes landing on my form and Red’s amused look. “Didn’t hear you come in, Malfoy. I’m glad to see that you haven’t been killed by my wife yet.”

“That assumes that your wife would be capable of killing me, Potter.”

“I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of, ferret.” Red counters. The banter between the three of us has no real venom, not like it did the first few times we did this. Now, the sting of our words barely lands, though I can feel my mother shuddering at my total lack of decorum.

Potter moves to his wife’s side, kissing her cheek and placing a proprietary hand against her back. “So where’s my favorite Malfoy run off to?”

“Right in front of you, Boy Wonder.”

Weaselette chuckles and leans into her husband’s shoulder. “Not that we don’t loooove having you around, ferret, but I believe my husband was talking about your daughter, who went to go save your daughter from my wrath.”

“And here I thought that you were going to finally admit your undying love for me, Potter. In front of your wife no less. Pity you are choosing to continue to hide from the truth.”

Potter’s arm darts out in a poor attempt to punch my arm. I dodge to the side easily but forget to keep an eye on the maniacally grinning redhead at his side. Her blow lands on my other arm, a sharp lance of pain that is gone just as fast as it came.

“Oi, Potter! Are you going to let your wife assault me like that? I thought you were an Auror for Circe’s sake.”

“Bold of you to assume that I let my wife do anything. She just does it and I say yes dear.” He shoots back, a grin stretching across his face.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Jay took my book and he won’t give it back.” Al barrels into our group, barely stopping at his father’s feet, his glasses already slipping down his face from the speed at which he was moving. He turns to look at me, quickly before turning back to Potter. “Oh, hi Mr. Malfoy. So Daddy can you please make Jay . . .”

As if his mind had only just processed my presence, Al stops mid-sentence, turning back around to me, slowly. His eyes scan my body and I can practically see the words before they slip out of his mouth. “We have dinner with Zoe tonight? Is she here? Where did she go? Do I need to go get her?”

The barrage of questions bubbling from the scruffy-haired little boy reminds me so much of Zoe. It has never been a surprise to me that she made such a fast friend in Al. They have such similar temperaments and he is so starkly different from the rest of his family. My smile is wholly natural as the young boy continues to list off an impossible number of questions that are already causing Potter a headache.

“Hey buddy, Zoe went to go and help your sister. Would you go and find them? Tell them that it’s time for dinner and we will start without them if they don’t hurry.” Potter pats his most tolerable spawns head and the young boy sprints off in the direction that Zoe wandered away a few minutes ago.

“I’m going to go find James. Merlin knows he’s probably fiddling with something in the backyard and covered in dirt. We wouldn’t want to give poor Zoe a heart attack, now would we? Will you two boys be able to play nicely while I’m gone?” The Weaselette gives us a look that only motherhood can hone. A look of both mischief and supernatural understanding. Even Potter shudders a bit under that gaze.

She only holds the stare for a few seconds before a deep belly laugh escapes her and she swaggers out of the kitchen. “Come on, Malfoy. Better get the table set up before the children descend.”

For a few blissful seconds, the only sounds are the clinking of glassware and silver on one another as Potter and I move around the table, laying out dishes and food. I should have known that Potter would have to go and ruin the moment.

“So, what are your intentions with Hermione?”

The spoon I was attempting to delicately place in its proper placement next to the steak knife clatters to the table. I school my expression quick enough, but Potter is too good at his job (though I’ll never admit it to him) to dismiss the momentary lapse as a simple slip.

I don’t respond, hoping that maybe he’ll drop it. Or, better yet, the kids will come running into the room bringing with them the kind of ruckus that only the Potter-Weasley children were able to create. But, alas, I have no such luck.

Potter clears his throat, rather roughly. I drop the rest of the silverware still in my opposite hand and look up at him. He is attempting to stare daggers into my head, though years of working together have dulled their sharpness. They no longer hold the animosity that used to exist between us in our schooling days.

“My intentions are none of your business, Potter, though you do have a nasty habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Oh come off it, Malfoy. I saw the two of you dancing together last week. Hell, everyone did. And . . .”

He trails off, unsure of what to say next. I roll my eyes. This is just ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. I don’t owe him anything and if he is going to play the big brother routine then he damn well better finish his thoughts. “And what, Potter? We don’t have all day.”

“And I want to make damn sure that she doesn’t get fucking hurt again, especially not when she has just started to be happy after so long. I won’t allow her to lose that spark again.” He practically shouts the words at me, angry but confident.

The anger isn’t directed at me. No, that anger is wholly dedicated to a certain redhead who hasn’t spoken to either of the other members of the “Golden Trio” since the divorce. It’s an anger that we share and one that threatens to break my mask at the mere memory of her broken spirit that day in the manor. 

My hands curl into fists at my side and I fight to keep the strain from my form, not wanting to show how much his words have affected me. “My relationship with Granger is none of your business.” He opens his mouth to object, but I cut him off. “But, I can assure you, Potter, that I will never hurt her or allow anyone else to do so, as long as she allows me to take up space in her life.”

My voice drops to barely a whisper and I say, more to myself than anyone else, “Never again.”

Of course, at that moment, the sound of stomping feet that I was praying for mere moments ago, echoes through the room and I brace myself for impact. Lily comes running into the room first, her face an interesting shade of red from exertion. Al and Zoe aren’t far behind, though they both enter the room relatively calmly, neither having spent energy attempting to chase after the rambunctious girl now doing laps around the table. From the door on the other side of the room, the one leading toward the hallway that merges with the patio door, the oldest Potter spawn bursts into the room, equally as red as Lily. He is practically covered in mud and his hair looks as though a niffler has been sorting through it for the last few hours.

Mini Potter barely makes it in the room before his eyes dart to the studious pair, moving to the dining table, heads together as if they were discussing some sort of plot to take over the world. Actually, that’s likely a possibility, knowing those two. Whether Zoe notices his stare and chooses to ignore him, or simply can’t tell that Mini Potter is practically staring a hole through her head, I don’t know, but he refuses to look away. Zoe doesn’t even deign to acknowledge his presence, continuing to chat away with Al, a look that could indicate nothing short of contentment spread across her face. 

Good. She was so worried about coming tonight. At least she is finding something to enjoy tonight. But with the looks that Mini Potter is throwing her way and my earlier conversation with Potter, I have a feeling that this dinner is going to be a disaster.

Like our dinners with the Snake Gang, the seating arrangement is haphazard at best. No semblance of order. However, unlike the structure that we try to implement for sanity’s sake during Snake Gang dinners, these affairs are a true free-for-all. Whoever can get to the table and claim their seat first gets the spot. Zoe, ever the consummate Lady, usually doesn’t mind sitting next to any of the Potters, well except for one, and, unfortunately for her, Al has already drug her to the table and sandwiched her between himself and Mini Potter.

My eyes are glued to my daughter’s face. I can see her fighting to keep a scowl from her face, trying desperately to maintain the civility that she strives for in public. Mini Potter has no such control. He is outright grimacing at the situation, but everyone has already sat down, leaving me at one end of the table and Potter at the other.

Zoe and Mini Potter both try to sit down on the same side of their respective chairs, bumping into one another. For a second, they both just stand there, as if mesmerized by the contact, but as soon as the moment began, it ended and Zoe moved to the opposite side of her own chair, taking a seat and elegantly laying her napkin across her lap.

It is a true free-for-all as limbs stretch across the table to serve themselves from various dishes across the surface. Zoe and I both sit back in our chairs, allowing the Potters to finish their frantic grabbing instead of trying to fight the chaos. She hands her plate to me and I pile it with food before turning to my own.

Despite the less than cleanly status of their kitchen, I can’t argue that Red has some serious cooking skills. Her food is always incredible, up to Effie’s standards certainly. The Potter children are all shoveling food into their faces at a barely restrained pace, though Al does try to match Zoe’s delicate technique. It’s not quite successful, but far better than his brother on her left.

Red doesn’t like breaks in conversation, even while everyone is eating, so she breaks the symphony of chewing and clanging. “James, would you like to tell your father what you were up to outside?”

I can’t tell if her tone is accusatory or proud, but I don’t analyze it too much. Instead, my gaze is fixed on Zoe who seems determined to ignore the boy to her left. Mini Potter inhales another bite of the roll covered in butter and doesn’t waste any time answering his mother’s question. “I was practicing my dives. I can almost pull up below that low branch on the tree in the backyard. I only had to bale off five times today.”

He puffs his chest out, pride obvious in the way he tells the story. Zoe’s eyes are large, maybe at the fact that another child would be allowed to do such reckless flying without adult supervision. Or maybe it's due to the large chunk of half-chewed bread that flew from Mini Potter’s mouth and landed on her hand, white-knuckled around her knife as she was trying to cut the roast into bite-sized pieces.

She tenses all over, muscles contracting and lets out a deep breath. It cuts through the rest of Mini Potter’s rambling about his flying skills. He pauses and turns his attention toward her. He scans her from head to toe, a shade of concern hidden behind a mask of annoyance, but it’s there until he finds the offending particle. 

Zoe uses her other hand to pick it off and wipes it off on the napkin. She tries to keep her composure, knowing that the conversation has stopped to watch her deal with her predicament. “Please, James. Continue telling us about your reckless and idiotic flying this afternoon like a buffoon.”

The derision in her voice rivals that of her Aunt. Mini Potter puts his utensils down and twists in his chair to fully face Zoe. “Like you could do any better, Princess.”

I allow my magic to brush against Zoe’s mind, as stealthy as I can, wanting to see what she is thinking. Her shields are good, strong, and thick. I can’t break through but I can feel anger seeping through her walls. Blinding anger, so strong that it nearly flows into my own mind.

“I could outfly you any day, any time. But, unlike you, I don’t risk my life just because I think something is cool.”

Her composure is cracking. I can see it falling apart as heat rises in her cheeks, dominating her pale features.

“Oh, I almost forgot. You don’t do anything unless Daddy says it’s okay.” 

“At least I’m responsible. I don’t need to ask my Mom if I can do something, because I’m actually trusted with things on my own!”

Both of them are now staring the other down. My eyes meet Potter’s across the table. I’m struck with a memory of so many years ago.

My father and I have a bet, you see. I don’t think you’ll last 10 minutes in the tournament. He disagrees. He doesn’t think you’ll last five.

I don’t give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy.

It was so long ago, but the scene before us can’t help but make images of our countless fights rise to the forefront of my memory.

For a brief moment, I lose my focus on the kids in front of me, but Zoe’s voice, cold and hard, tear me away from my thoughts. “You have no right! You, of all people, don’t get to tell me a damn word about my mother! Next time you do, I’ll put my fist through your nose!”

She pushes away from the table harshly and starts to walk away, but before she reaches the doorway, she turns back to me. Her eyes are red and puffy, glistening with tears that she has yet to let fall. “May I be excused?” Her voice waves, just slightly, but she doesn’t let the grief overwhelm her. I incline my head, trying desperately not to stand up, either to demand to know what was said or chase Zoe, I’m not sure.

Zoe doesn’t waste any time in fleeing, likely to the library on the second floor. Weaselette, to her credit, looks at her empty chair in horror. Silence hangs in the air after her departure until a stern voice cuts through it, sharp as a knife.

Normally, Red is the one that disciplines the kids, at least from what I have seen, but Potter’s voice is almost murderous toward his son. “James Sirius Potter. I don’t care what you think. Nothing that she said warranted your response. You will go and find her and apologize.”

Mini Potter is still standing there, rooted to the spot, a look of pure horror cutting across his face. His hand is raised, covering his mouth like he could keep the offending words in by grabbing them and keeping his mouth close. He is moving in slow motion, barely even registering his father’s words, but Potter refuses to let him off that easily. “GO! NOW!”

At the shout, Mini Potter is jolted into action, jumping from his chair and disappearing in the same direction that Zoe left. I don’t even know what was said, just that it involved Zoe’s mother. I should have prepared her better. I knew this would come up sometime, somewhere, I just never thought it would happen at Potter’s house of all places. 

If I ever get my hands on Mini Potter, I might strangle him. Part of me wants to get up and follow the young boy and my daughter, but I know that I will just make things worse. Instead, I extend my magic to her shields, intentionally rattling them to notify her of my presence. It takes a few seconds, seconds that seem to stretch on forever, before a small door opens, letting me into her mental antechamber.

Are you alright, my light?

Silence, cold and constricting answers me. My heart clenches painfully in my chest, but I don’t want her to feel my worry or concern. It would just make it worse, so I try to stay calm and repeat.

Zoe, sweetheart. Are you okay?

Another pause greets me, but I give her space, pushing down my own discomfort.

I’ll be fine. Will you apologize to Auror and Mrs. Potter for me? And Al, and Lils. I’ll be back down in a few minutes.

Take your time, darling. No one is frustrated with you, they are just concerned. I’m just concerned.

Just give me a few minutes, Dad.

With that, the antechamber squeezes, pushing me out. I’m back in the dining room, both Potter and Red staring at me. Shit, how long was I stuck in Zoe’s mind? It must have been a few minutes if the confusion on their faces is anything to go by.

“Is Mr. Malfoy, okay? His face looked all funny.” Lily adds from her spot next to her mother.

Potter reaches over, napkin in hand, to wipe some mashed potato off of her face. “Lily, it’s not nice to say that people look funny, even if Mr. Malfoy made a weird face.” He reaches his other hand behind her ear, tickling her neck. Her shrieks of delight are bright, but they seem oppressive compared to the silence that I was engulfed in from my own daughter.

Al nervously shifts in his seat, stuttering over his first few words. “Shou- . . . should we . . . should we stop eating? At least until they get back?”

His gaze darts between the three adults at the table and Red saves me from answering. “They will be down soon, Albus. Go ahead and keep eating. That way you have more time after dinner to spend with Zoe in the library tonight. I’m sure that they are on their way down right now.”

A few more minutes pass, Lily keeping the rest of the table entertained with a dramatic retelling of what her stuffed panda did today. I’m not following the conversations, only offering small nods of my head to maintain the illusion of listening, waiting instead to hear when my daughter returns from her distressed flight. 

Another minute goes by, and the quiet chuckles of Potter and Weaselette starts to sound grating. Where is she? Did Mini Potter even find her? What if he made it worse? Ugh. I should be up there, looking for her, making sure that she is alright. 

I am about five seconds away from pulling my chair out from the table and starting my search when the sound of soft footsteps greets me. Mini Potter and Zoe round the corner at nearly the same time, a good distance between the two of them, but nothing like the unbearable strain that they displayed earlier. 

Zoe lifts her chin, confident and poised, and directs her attention to Potter. “Auror Potter.” A quick shift of her head has her inclining it towards Weaselette as well, “Mrs. Potter. Please forgive me for my hasty exit. It was terribly impolite and it won’t happen again.”

“Darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. Did James apologize to you, as he was supposed to?” She cuts her son a menacing glance and he shrinks a bit under that oppressive stare.

“James and I have reached an understanding. We won’t be bothering anyone anymore.” She keeps her chin up, but I recognize the tactic for what it is. She’s deflecting. Trying to distract Red from the question that she definitely didn’t answer. A true Slytherin.

And the Weaselette, in true Gryffindor fashion, has no idea. Instead, she smiles, rather garishly, and everyone sits down to continue eating. As if no time had passed, Zoe jumps right into the conversation, clearly concerned about the panda, which was apparently in mortal peril because the evil Mr. Pickle (I didn’t ask) wanted to make her fly and pandas can’t because they don’t like brooms. Honestly, I don’t understand how these two make it through a day even half sane, trying to sort out her stories. Even Zoe’s imagination had some logic to it. 

Time seems to crawl by. Zoe is participating, but something feels off and I can’t put my finger on it. When dinner is finished, like the dutiful girl she is, Zoe led her adoring troops off to the library to read for a few hours while Mini Potter muttered something about a broom and sulked off to a different corner of the house. Soon I was left alone again with Potter and the Weaselette.

I probably stare at the last spot Zoe’s retreating form was visible for too long because I feel a sharp slap to the backside of my head. “Oi, Malfoy! If you’re going to keep ignoring me, I’ll send you home and start working with Zo. She’s a hell of a lot more attentive.”

“She’d certainly keep your sorry arse in line, Potter,” I say, refusing to bring my hand up to my head to soothe the dull ache. Instead, daring to dart my hand out towards him to do the exact same thing.

He dodges and I reach around the nearest chair, pulling him into a chokehold. “Had enough yet, Potter.”

“You wish.” He grimaces and elbows me in the side. We continue to fight one another for a few more seconds and then, from the corner of the room, largely forgotten, Red’s voice echoes.

“Boys, boys. You’re both pretty. Now, can I have some help with these dishes?” A wicked grin stretches across her face and her eyes sparkle with amusement.

Potter immediately drops out of my weakened hold and strides for the table, reaching for one of the empty serving bowls in the center. I start walking around the table, gathering the silverware and plates that were dirtied, levitating the stack toward the kitchen. Potter is struggling to hold all of his dishes with his hands, clearly, a task that he has forgotten can be solved with magic.

He is in front of me and makes it to the kitchen first, unfortunately, because I am blocked from following by the muscled woman standing in the doorframe. “You know that she’s okay, don’t you?”

“If you’re referring to my daughter, Weaselette, then I assure you she is perfectly fine.”

She smirks, nodding in agreement. “Uh-huh. And when you start to believe that yourself, let me know.”

I try to push her out of the way, but the damn woman is hell-bent on making this as difficult as possible. “As much as I enjoy our little conversations, I would like to get these dishes taken care of. At your request, I might add.”

“You snakes are good at isolating yourselves. I’m sure that Pansy” A shudder wracks her body, “Merlin helps me, is good for Zoe. And Circe knows that Luna will try to help, but she does have the right to be a child every once in a while.”

My eyebrows raise at the accusation and the dishes wobble precariously, my focus almost wholly on Red. “I am well aware that she is a child, which is why I did not chastise her for what happened at dinner. Potter and I said far worse to each other when we were their age.”

She shrugs and her body starts to relax, moving to let me pass. “I mean that you have to let her have some secrets, no matter how much it kills you. You are her father, Malfoy, not her best friend. Make sure there’s a difference between the two. For both your sakes.”

I don’t bother to respond and instead push past her into the kitchen, allowing the dishes to float down into the suds already in the sink. Thankfully, Potter keeps his mouth shut for once and we work in companionable silence, cleaning and putting everything to rights.

Not long after, Zoe comes wandering into the sitting room that Potter, Red, and I have been occupying, ready to leave. There isn’t much preamble, as apparently Lily fell asleep in the library and Al was watching over her until either Potter or Red went to bring her up to bed. Mini Potter was nowhere to be found, so Zoe and I said our goodbyes and quickly went through the floo.

The flames had barely died down before Zoe stepped out, striding for her bedroom.

“Woah. Where are you off to in such a rush?” I try to keep my tone light, unoppressive, innocent even.

She stops but doesn’t turn around. “I just want to go to bed, Dad. I’m really tired.”

“Zo, love, talk to me. Please.” My voice nearly breaks, but I force back the emotion and I walk around to kneel in front of her. There are tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shuddering in barely contained sobs.

She looks up at me then, her eyes, normally shining from the excitement of spending time with Al, are dull and lifeless. “Why didn’t she want me, Daddy? Wasn’t I good enough?”

My heart shatters at the angst on her face. I don’t know exactly what was said, but I know the devastation on her face. I can see the heartbreak, feelings that she either had never dealt with or never even considered. 

Like I’m on autopilot, my arms wrap around her, pulling her close to my chest, rocking back and forth. I don’t even know what to say. How do you justify those actions? How could anyone leave this precious little witch? Questions that I have asked myself, again and again, every day for the last ten years floating around in my mind, unanswered.

I don’t even know where to begin, but I can’t handle listening to her sobs. It will break me, so I just start.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I wish, every day, every single one, that I could tell you why she left, but I promised that I would never lie to you. I won’t tell you that it will ever stop hurting that she left because sometimes things just don’t go away, and that’s okay.”

“But, I can tell you that you are more than enough. Zoe, you are smart. You are kind. You are compassionate and determined. You’re funny, not to mention the fact that you are the most beautiful girl in the world. You are so good and it is not your fault that that woman could not see it. You are not responsible for her.”

She is still shaking, but I pull away, looking into her eyes. “You are enough for me, and I will always be here, no matter what. Because you, Zowena Cassiopeia Malfoy, are the best witch in the world. I am so proud to be your Dad. If she didn’t want to be the Mom to such an amazing girl then she doesn’t get to be a part of our family.”

I brush my thumb across her cheek, collecting the tears that are following, more slowly now than before. “Don’t let her steal your light, Zoe. Not for one single second.”

She reaches forward, burying her face back in my shoulder and I let out a sigh of relief. Merlin, I hope that I didn’t just screw this whole thing up. What I wouldn’t give to see what was going on in her mind right now.

Instead, I settle for whispered words against her hair. “I love you, Zoe.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Far too soon, she pulls away and wanders up to her bedroom. I don’t follow, needing to give her some space. All I can do is hope that she is okay and pray that Red was right. 

Chapter Text

Draco

June 26, 2009

I feel so useless. I have spent hours pacing the house, waiting for Zoe to emerge from her room. There hasn’t been a sound, not even the rustling of sheets as if she were rolling around in bed. It’s as if there is a silencing charm cast around the room.

Fuck it, I need to go in and check on her. I’ve already finished breakfast and I can’t stand not knowing. I’m about to go in the room when I’m blasted into the other wall by a wave of Effie’s magic. 

“Little Mistress wishes to be alone today, Master Malfoy.” She said, a twinge of sadness lacing her words, though they were firm and matter-of-fact.

I knew that Zoe could hear me, so I tried to keep my voice from choking. “I just want to make sure she’s okay, Effie. Just let me in to check on her.”

Effie’s wide eyes sparkle with understanding, but she stands firm, the shield that she threw up keeping me from advancing any further. “Effie will watch over Little Mistress. Master Draco must get ready for his date.”

“No need, Effie. I’m going to cancel-”

She stomped her foot and her magic radiated out, shoving me back into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. “Master Draco will do no such thing. Effie will make sure that Little Mistress has everything she needs, and Master Draco will go on his date with Miss Hermione. That is final.”

She moved her hands to her hips, and any trace of lingering sadness dissipated to make way for the determination flooding her features. A small part of me shrank away from that expression, the same one she would give me when I was a child and I tried to get out of my myriad of lessons.

“Zoe needs me far more than Granger does.” I try to reason with the elf, though it’s a lost cause. 

“Little Mistress would want Master Draco to go on his date. Effie will call Miss Pansy over if Master Draco tries to cancel.” 

I shudder at the thought of Pansy even discovering that the idea of canceling had crossed my mind. I let my gaze drift back to the closed door across me, boring holes into the wood as if I could see through it to my daughter inside. 

A few seconds of silence slip past and I turn my gaze back to the elf, still staring me down like a mother would while she is scolding her child. “I will not cancel then, Effie, but if Zoe needs anything, you are to come and get me right away! No matter where I am, I will always come if she calls.”

I hope that my voice carries through the magic and wood and that Effie’s spell is not blocking out the sound. At least then, Zoe will know that I am thinking about her and that I haven’t left her alone by choice. 

Effie doesn’t say anything else. She just makes a shooing motion with her hands, directly me away from Zoe’s room and toward the main staircase. If I were smart, I would go through the passage that connects my room to Zoe’s, but if she has managed to employ the stubborn little elf, then she definitely does not want me in her room right now. Despite my every instinct screaming at me to put my eyes on her and make sure she is okay, I refuse to make things worse. I won’t control her or make her feel like she needs to hide her emotions because I refuse to let her deal with them. No, I can give her this space, even if it kills me to do it.

I need to do something, though, to keep me from wallowing in my own thoughts. I’m not supposed to meet Granger until 7 pm, which leaves me with far too much time on my hands to overanalyze everything.

Without realizing where I was going, I wandered into my potions lab in the basement of the manor. When Zoe was born, I made sure that the Manor was untainted by dark magic. With Theo and Blaise’s help, we completely redid the basement, getting rid of the dungeons that used to dominate the space and replacing the offending cells with storage rooms and a giant potions lab that I used often before I took the job with the DMLE. Now, I barely get brewing time in, unless Zoe is over at her Aunts and Uncles homes and I don’t have an active case, a scenario that only seems to happen once in a blue moon. 

Today; however, I have a blissful amount of time on my hands. The time that I can spend getting lost in the monotony of brewing. I have been meaning to continue my experimenting on more efficient brews for Wolfsbane. As if through muscle memory, I start to set out my ingredients and prepare my workstation, allowing my mind to relax, focusing on the precision that I will need for the task ahead of me.

Each stir and cut brings me closer to the dreaded hour, the one that I have been putting off for years now. I, Draco Malfoy, former Death-Eater, attempted murderer of Albus Dumbledore, disgraced Sacred 28 heir, have a date with the Golden Girl herself, Hermione Granger. 

Even the rhythm of my potion-brewing cannot keep me from spiraling deep into my thoughts. My occlumency shields waver, allowing the smallest sliver of memory through to the forefront of my mind.

Zoe’s smile is infectious. My heart swells as I watch her completely in her element, dazzling everyone around us. Only a few more turns before the dance is over and we will have to leave the dance floor so Pansy doesn’t accuse me of hoarding her. 

I have barely looked around to take stock of everyone present, not since I have been wrapped up in social conversations and showing Zoe off to all those in attendance. I barely set Zoe down from the lift before we spin on more time and my eyes catch on the most beautiful woman in the room.

I should have known that I would find her here tonight. The tug in my chest has been so strong, to the point of pain, all night. But I never expected to see her like this. The golden dress looks like a ray of sunlight captured in the night sky against the backdrop of soft fairy lights. Her curves are on display, enticing me with every breath, while a shimmery gossamer covers both of her arms, and the offending scar that I know is still present. Everything about her screams freedom. I can practically hear her laugh from her, can see her eyes sparkle at whatever conversation she is engrossed in. Likely about some downtrodden creature that she is ready to save, though it wouldn’t surprise me if she started talking about Ancient Runes either.

A small tug on my arm brings me back to Earth, to the radiant blonde in front of me. “You should ask her to dance.”

Zoe doesn’t bother to mince words, but I’m still taken aback by her bluntness. I can’t even form the words to respond, they instead come out in a jumbled mess of “Wh- . . . Bu- . . . What . . . I have”

“Are you really going to tell me that you weren’t just staring at her a second ago?” She asks, her grey eyes still alight with joy from the waltz we are finishing, our bodies moving without our conscious thought.

I practically pout. She’s such a traitor. I should have known that Pansy would have spoken to her, knowing that I would do anything for this little girl. “Are you in on this too? Merlin, I thought it was just your Aunts and Uncles.”

She smirks back up at me, though a brief look of panic passes her face. “I haven’t talked to anyone about it. Well, except for Aunt Pans, but she mentioned it first, I swear.”

My eyes bore into hers, trying to convey the seriousness of what she is implying. For her whole life, Zoe has been the most important person in my own life. I don’t want her to be unprepared to welcome someone else into the fold, no matter how impossible that will be. At least with Granger. “Do you honestly want me to go over there?”

Another spin removes Granger from my sight, though Zoe seems to be looking around the rest of the room, not focusing on one area before allowing her eyes to dart back to me. “I don’t know, Dad. But it’s not my decision to make. Do you want to go over there?”

“I do.” I practically whisper it, the secret that I have been harboring for years now.

“Then go.” She says it like it is easy, as easy as breathing. I wish she was right. Maybe I can make her see.

“It’s not that easy, Zoe.”

She looks confused, cocking her head at that. “Why? You like her. She likes you. You aren’t dating anyone and neither is she.”

When she lays it all out like that, it seems so simple, but I don’t even know if Granger feels anything for me. Certainly not the same things that I feel for her. I start to argue with Zoe. “I can’t just-”

“You can and you will.” She nearly pulls out of my hold with the force of her words. “I will go over and hang out with the Baby Snakes for a little bit. I bet Aunt Pans would love the help with Luc. If Miss Granger says no, you can come back over and we can leave.” 

She stares me down, daring me to challenge her in front of everyone. My nerves are roiling in my chest, my stomach is in knots. Everything feels tight, the room is spinning, and I can barely breathe. Still, Zoe refuses to look away. With every second that we look at one another, I can feel part of myself relaxing, almost in time to the fading music.

When the song finally ends and we pull apart, moving back toward the cluster of Notts and Zabinis in the corner, I squeeze her hand twice, in that signal of ours. “I love you, Zoe.”

She stops, turning to face me, eyes alight. “I love you too, Dad. Now go and get her.”

She practically pushes me away, making a shooing motion with her hands. It takes every bit of my occlumency skills to try and block out the nerves, steel my spine, and walk toward the vision that is Hermione Granger.

She is surrounded by a few Ministry employees. I recognize Darren McAllister from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, but the other figures are people wholly unknown to me. She laughs at something that one of the younger men said, the sound like angels brought to earth. 

I feel suspended in time as she turns from the conversation and her eyes land on mine. The breath is knocked from my chest, the tug now insistent that I cross the final few feet between the two of us. I give into the pull, moving without thinking toward her glowing frame.

Up close, her eyes are a rich amber, sparkling in the light, with flecks of gold throughout. Her lips are parted in surprise, whether at my boldness or my figure, I can’t tell. I don’t miss her assessing gaze drifting down from my head to my toes, only coming back to my eyes when I am within arms reach.

A delicious blush rises to her cheeks. I want to know if that blush extends any lower. No, Stop it! You are a gentleman, you utter idiot. 

I should say something, anything to break this awkward silence stretching between us. Granger, as always, saves me. “Malfoy. Hi. I, um, I didn’t. Well, that’s to say that. Um”

“Hi to you too, Granger.” The smirk on my face is easy, not forced. The nerves that were twisting my stomach earlier are dissipating with each breath that I match to hers. 

“You look . . . well, you look very handsome tonight, Malfoy.” The blush deepens, reaching a shade of red that complements her tan skin perfectly.

I hope that there isn’t a matching blush on my face. “Believe me when I tell you, Granger, no one and nothing here tonight compares to your beauty.”

She brings one of her hands up to a fly-away strand of hair, nervously tugging it while scanning her gaze over her own outfit. “I don’t usually wear these sorts of things. Ginny had to practically wrestle me into this gown. I seriously debated wearing a jumper and jeans.”

We both laugh, just a little, oblivious to the group of people that had migrated away from us in those few seconds. The tug in my chest is so tight. I want to reach out and touch her, but that would be too forward. I haven’t even asked her to dance yet. I guess it’s now or never. Zoe would probably drag me back over here if I found her again with nothing to report.

“And why, my dear Miss Granger, have I not seen you on the dance floor this evening?”

She stares down at her feet. In heels, I notice with a start, recalling a lunch conversation we had a few weeks ago when she confessed that she absolutely hated wearing heels, for any reason. “I’m not a very good dancer. My parents took me to dance lessons when I was younger, but the teacher was so strict and I could never get my body to be loose enough, so I usually just avoid it.”

“Aren’t all Gryffindors supposed to be all about confronting their fears?” I hold my hand out to her, an offering, a choice that is completely hers.

For the briefest of moments, she hesitates, staring at the hand outstretched before her. My heart is thundering in my chest. If she was a legilimens, she would hear me begging and pleading that she takes my hand. 

“I’m not sure I’d be as good of a partner as your daughter. I will most certainly make a fool of myself.” My hand is still in the air. I refuse to let it drop, refuse to let her sit on the side for the rest of the night. Not when she looks like that. Not now that she is talking to me, and only me. Joking with me. If I were a hopeful man, I might even say that she was flirting with me.

“You clearly do not know the secret to dance with a partner. It is a two-person job. If you have the right partner, you can never look like a fool.”

“And you’re the right partner, Malfoy?” She smirks and lifts her hand, placing it in mine. I can practically see sparks erupting at every place we are touching. The tug dies down, my chest relaxing for the first time all night.

I lean down to whisper in her ear, a wayward strand of hair tickling my face. “You’ll have to find out for yourself, Granger.”

Without giving her time to back out and regret her decision, I lead her onto the dance floor. I keep a hold of her left hand in my right, trying to bring it up into hold, while my left arm snakes around her waist. Hesitantly, she places her right hand on my shoulder. “Relax, Granger. I won’t bite. Not unless you want me to.”

She bats my shoulder playfully and the music begins, a familiar and easy-paced waltz. My steps are steady and assured, trying to make up for her stilted gait and timid steps. 

There is no strength in her arms and any ballroom instructor worth their title would be slapping her with a ruler by now, but I don’t care. With each step, her body leans a little more into mine and relaxes into my fold, trusting me to carry her around the floor.

“Was this really so scary?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just lucky I haven’t stepped on your toes yet, though there seems to be a fair amount of time left in this song, so you’re not out of the woods yet.”

With all the arrogance I can muster, I screw my face into an obviously faked expression of fear. “Oh no. However, will I survive the deadly assault of your exceptionally small feet? I think I might die of terror.”

With a positively evil grin on her face, she steps closer still, her heel digging into my toes, despite the thick dragon leather covering them. In retaliation, I pinch her waist, causing her to jump slightly before settling back into her weak hold.

For a second, I panic, thinking that I have pushed her too far, but she smiles back at me. It’s a bright smile, unrestrained and pure. So pure that I can’t help but answer back with a smile of my own. The rest of the ball floats away, completely forgotten.

With a little prodding, I manage to maneuver her into a small spin, her dress floating around her, catching the light with each swish of fabric. A few more pieces of her hair fall from her bun. It should make her look messy or frazzled, but all I can think about is sinking my hands into her hair.

When she comes back from the spin, I pull her flush against my chest, my other arm snaking around her waist to join the first. Her arms fall around my neck as if on instinct. 

“You’re breathtaking, Granger.” 

“You don’t have to exaggerate, Malfoy. There are plenty of pretty women here tonight. You didn’t have to come over just because you hadn’t seen me dance yet.” She is staring down at our feet, so close they are almost touching.

My blood boils at the mere thought that she doesn’t know how beautiful she is. That she can’t believe the compliment I am giving her. That, for even a second, she would think that I am only here because of some misguided pity. 

My left hand is under her chin before I can think through my actions before I can remind myself to take this at her pace. I pull her face up, so her eyes meet mine. “I asked you to dance because I could barely tear my eyes away from you once you crossed my path. I asked you to dance because I wanted the rest of these people to see you on my arm. I asked you to dance because I have been trying to work up the courage to ask you to come out with me for longer than you know.”

My chest is heaving. I don’t know how I am not shaking, but I can feel my mind running itself ragged, imagining possibility after possibility of this going poorly. My throat feels closed off and it takes all my strength to keep a look of utter panic from overtaking my mask of calm.

I keep my eyes locked on hers, counting each fleck of gold that I see to try and steady myself. She inhales sharply, the full effect of my words hitting her, but she doesn’t pull away. The brief moment of tension passes and I feel every muscle relax under my touch. 

Her voice is breathy when she finally responds. “I thought that Slytherins were supposed to be terrible at telling others what they were feeling.”

“I guess we are both feeling a little out of sorts tonight.”

She laughs, free and unrestrained. “I’d love to, you know. Go out with you, I mean.”

My footsteps falter, my hand falling from her face. The only thing that keeps my jaw from dropping in shock is the thought of my mother’s stern expression in etiquette lessons. “You would?”

“Yes, I would.”

I try to regain control of my composure, to slip back into the mask I usually wear. “Well, then I suppose I should ask you properly, lest my mother appears behind me to chastise me for treating a lady improperly. Miss Granger, would you accompany me to dinner next Sunday?”

She raises an eyebrow at that. “Sunday? Do you have another date on Saturday that I should be worried about?”

“Zoe and I have a previously arranged dinner. Monthly affair that I, unfortunately, cannot cancel.”

Her face relaxes. I think that was a relief that I saw cross her features. “Fine. I will settle for Sunday, Malfoy.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7, then.” With that, the music ends and the crowd presses back in on us.

The alarm of my wand pulls me from the memory violently. I can still feel her body pressed against mine, the smooth skin of her palm against my own. The bounce of her hair against my cheek. 

The offensive noise from my wand buzzes again. Shit. Is it 6 already? At least my Wolfsbane is the right color and emits that rotten eggs smell that indicates it was brewed correctly. 

I don’t have any idea what I should wear. I have a designated booth at Paradiso for tonight, but I don’t know what she is going to wear. I can’t look too formal. I wouldn’t want to scare her off. Not when this is our first truly planned interaction outside of work, alone. The panic is fully setting in when I finally make it upstairs to my room, to find a studious little blonde draped across my bed, one of my suits meticulously laid out next to her. 

She eyes me as I cross the threshold to my room, my panic slowly fading as I focus on her. “I figured you would be nervous about your date, so I thought I would help pick out your clothes.”

“Zoe, are you-”

“Nope. We are not talking about that right now. You don’t have a lot of time before you have to go. So go shower.” She rolls off the bed and starts pushing me toward the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and passing it to me through the doorway before slamming the door shut.

I don’t take long, not wanting to leave her waiting for me, and hoping that I can buy myself enough time to check in on her, though she likely planned for that, the sneaky little snake.

As soon as I turn the water off, she cracks the door open enough to put the pile of clothes that she had laid out just inside the bathroom. It doesn’t take long for me to get dressed.

I have to hand it to Zoe. She has an eye for this kind of thing. I would have likely picked a darker suit, donning the intimidating black clothing that I normally wear in public. Zoe even included one of my lighter blue ties, probably ensuring that I didn’t look like too much of a Slytherin while out with the Gryffindor Princess. 

“Dad, if you take too long, you won’t have time to pick flowers for her before you leave.” Zoe is normally far more patient than this. I cast a quick Tempus charm. Shit, it’s 6:40. Did I really spend that much time thinking? I need to get myself together before I go to see Granger.

Zoe is waiting for me when I leave the bathroom. She immediately sets to flicking away imaginary pieces of lint all over my suit and making sure that the collar is sitting properly, even though I already checked in the bathroom.

“If you fuss much more, I will never be able to leave.” She blows out a huff of air, letting her hands drop to her sides. I kneel down, my hands on her shoulders. “Are you sure you are alright? I can cancel. You just need to say the word and I will send her a Patronus right now.”

“No. You should go.” She still seems dull, a little lifeless. My heart twists painfully.

My eyes search hers. “Are you sure that you’re alright, my light?”

She pushes my hands off of her and stares me down. “I’m okay. But you won’t be if Aunt Pans finds out that you were late for your date. Or if you left without bringing her flowers.”

As if summoned by Zoe’s admonishing, the tell-tale Pop! of Effie entering the room cracks. “Master Draco should be leaving for Miss Granger now. Effie has flowers for Miss Granger, but Master Draco must not be late.”

Between Effie and Zoe’s hands, they bodily shove me toward the main staircase, Effie refusing to let off until I am at the front door. I turn back around, struggling around the bony fingers with more strength than they should be able to possess. Zoe is standing at the top of the stairs, her hair hanging limply around her shoulders. She waves her hand toward the door. “Go!”

With that, I turn on my heel and exit the Manor, a bunch of flowers clutched in my left hand. The second my body crosses the doorway into the Manor, I apparate to the street outside of the apartment in a low-traffic area of London.

I fix a few nonexistent wrinkles on my suit, ignore the pang in my chest, and walk up towards the door. Of course, it has a golden, lion-shaped door knocker. I take a few breaths before stepping up to the door, to knock.

Apparently, I am later than I thought I was because I barely even raise my hand to the door before it swings open, revealing Granger. 

Her hair is wild and untamed, nothing like the barely restrained pile it sat in at the Pucey ball last weekend. No, it’s unrestrained in a way that she rarely wears anymore, but reminds me of a simpler time when I would come across her studying in the table nestled in the Ancient Runes section of the Hogwarts library. 

She has dressed in a simple navy blue sundress with white flats. It is simple, but she looks gorgeous. She is the most beautiful woman in the world.

It takes me a moment to remember that my hand was upraised to knock on the door. What a great start to the night. Luckily, I retain my wits in short order and I am able to salvage the rather awkward introduction with a tentative grasp of her wrist. I bring her hand toward my mouth, stooping to brush a gentle kiss across her knuckles.

I can see goosebumps erupt along her arm at the contact, bringing me no small amount of satisfaction. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight, Granger.”

Chapter Text

Hermione

June 26, 2009

“You look ravishing tonight, Granger.”

I wonder if he can tell that my heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. I spent hours pacing around my closet this morning, trying to find something suitable to wear. I mean, honestly, what does one wear on a date with London’s Most Eligible Heir? I had practically thrown my entire closet on the floor before I finally caved and floo-called Ginny. 

I regretted my decision almost immediately when she came through the floo, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. There was no shortage of jokes made at my expense for “entertaining the moody ferret.” 

Which is how I ended up at the front door of my apartment, standing dumbfounded in front of Draco Malfoy as he practically bows before me. He kissed my hand! I can’t even remember the last time someone bothered to show me that level of respect conveyed in one simple gesture. Ron had never bothered with those kinds of things, but standing here, trying not to notice how Malfoy’s suit (a light grey that I have never seen him wear) hugs his shoulders enticingly, I can’t help but swoon.

He stands slowly, his eyes dragging up my body. I should feel disgusted at the blatant ogling, but I’m doing the same thing, so I probably shouldn’t mention it. His eyes land on mine, light dancing in the startling silver that I have grown more and more fond of over time. 

For a moment, nothing else exists. Sounds of traffic and dogs barking fade away and it is just the two of us, nothing else. I can’t speak, words flying away from the front of my mind on a phantom wind. The tug in my chest settles, feeling a bit like someone stroked it into relaxing. I don’t want the moment to end. 

I can feel myself leaning into his touch. Is he leaning toward me too? I can’t tell. His hand slips from my wrist, entangling with my fingers. We are barely a breath away from each other. Just a few more-

OW!

Malfoy jumps back. Oh, God! Did I say that out loud? I’m such an idiot. I don’t even know what I ran into. My skin feels cold in the places that his hand was caressing just a second ago. I can almost see the imprint of his fingers, but there is a small spot of red that draws my attention away from his phantom fingers to my other hand.

Blood? How did I start bleeding? Malfoy is looking at the small drop collecting on my skin. I don’t know how it’s possible, but he pales at the sight, guilt rolling off him in waves. My gaze travels even farther down, to the stunning bunch of stark white roses held in his right hand, now hanging limp at his side, a few drops of red maring a petal of one of the flowers on the edge of the handmade bouquet. 

“Are those for me?” 

Malfoy’s head snaps up, his eyes finding mine again. It takes a second for my words to sink in, but when they do, he looks so flustered. The paleness that seeped into his face starts to dissipate in favor of a blush rising in his cheeks.

Luckily, he regains his patented Malfoy swagger and steps back a bit more to present the flowers, without another thorn incident. “Unless you see another fiery Gryffindor running around in there.”

The smirk that used to make me curse his name in school is firmly in place, but it doesn’t hold the same bite that it used to. No, this smirk feels more playful, teasing, like he wants me to fight back a little.

“Oh, should I call Ginny? Though, she might throw those flowers at your head instead of accepting them.” 

His eyes sparkle. “I’d rather avoid getting thorns stuck in my hair. The blood is awfully difficult to get out. I guess I will settle for you.”

I don’t bother to stop the giggle from escaping my mouth. “Here, let me go put these in some water.”

I turn around, moving to enter my apartment, but stop when the tug in my chest gives a painful nudge. Twisting my head, I see that Malfoy hasn’t taken a step across my threshold. He’s just standing outside the door, his hands held stiffly at his sides. I let out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you coming in or are you just going to stand outside like a beggar until these are properly dealt with?”

His mouth twitches, likely the biggest reaction I will get out of a snake who’s used to hiding his emotions away from the world. “I don’t want to impose, Granger.”

“It’s not imposing if I offered, Malfoy. Come on, you’re letting in a draft.”

His steps are slow like he is waiting for me to take it back and kick him out, but he follows me to the kitchen, closing the front door behind him. I can feel his eyes on my back, tracking my movement. Normally I avoid ever turning my back on anyone, a hazard of fighting in a war my therapist says. But for some strange reason, I don’t mind knowing that he is at my back. Plus, my wand is tucked away in a hidden pocket of my dress. I could have it out and at his throat, in two seconds if I needed to.

It isn’t until I’m in my kitchen that I realize that my flower vase is in the top cupboard, the one that I usually climb onto the counter to get things from. I certainly can’t do that in this dress. I guess I’m just going to have to try and reach it on my tip toes and hope that this dress doesn’t ride up.

My fingers are still inches away when a heavyweight settles across my back. Malfoy’s hand can easily reach almost a foot higher than mine can. I try to point out the vase that I want, nestled near the back of the cupboard.

As he moves dishes around, careful not to let anything get too close to the edge of the cupboard, I find myself staring unabashedly at his hand. My vision catches on the imposing signet ring adorning his third finger. It is polished silver with an imposing dragon, spreading its wings across the center. Around the outside of the center circle, there is a phrase in Latin

Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

My Latin is so rusty. I have spent more time delving into Ancient Runes and Arithmancy lately. I can’t remember what it means. I don’t have much time to ponder it though, because I can barely feel his hand resting on my hip, steadying me since he is leaning against my back to reach the cupboard. 

His touch is feather-light, but it still sends sparks up and down my spine. Heat coils in my lower belly, making me feel like a bloody teenager. One part of my brain is screaming at the other, which is imaging him grabbing my hips with far more pressure, leaving bruises for the next day and -

“Is this what you were looking for?” My cheeks are heated to the point of pain. There is no way he hasn’t noticed the blush that I can feel practically in my toes.

I barely get the words out, my body still affected by the feel of him pressed against me. “Um. Yeah. That’s the one.”

He smirks again, delight in his eyes. “You are aware that you could have summoned it, right?” One of his eyebrows quirks up.

I huff. “If I had done that, my vase would have likely broken on the dishes in front of it. Not to mention, destroyed my cupboard door, Malfoy.”

For speed, and absolutely no other reason, I slide my wand out of my hidden pocket, filling the vase with a wordless Aguamenti, and gently set the flowers, which had been abandoned on the countertop, in the vase. 

Malfoy is standing a few steps away, still behind me, but no longer invading my own space. I wonder if he can hear the thoughts racing through my head, the thoughts that have been plaguing me since that dinner so long ago, even before that if I’m being honest with myself, but he doesn’t make a move, letting me take the lead.

I wipe my hands down the front of my dress, getting rid of the liquid that I wish I could say is entirely from the vase and not my nerves. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Are you ready to go?”

In the space between his question and my answer, he tenses a little. I try not to overthink it too much. It’s just nerves. You have them too. I mentally chastise myself.

“Yes.” I extend my hand in his direction, trying to maintain my Gryffindor's bravery. Merlin, I hope he takes it. This will be really awkward if he doesn’t.

He stares at my outstretched hand for a second, examining it with more thought than necessary, but I don’t pull away. He gave me time last week. It’s only fair that I grant him the same courtesy.

Gently, almost delicately, he grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers. His smile is genuine, the kind of smile he never lets other people see. It’.s the smile that he hides in dark hallways after his trainees have impressed him. The same one he gets during our lunch “meetings” when he talks about Zoe. Easy and bright. It softens his face, making him seem more like the young man he is than the stone-faced aged man he pretends to be.

He doesn’t let go when we make it out of my apartment. He just nods at my wand, signaling that I should use it to lock up. Butterflies race around my chest at the possessiveness, a trait that used to grate on my nerves, but is incredibly sexy on Malfoy. I don’t let him know that, though, not yet. Instead, I huff good-naturedly and wave my wand.

“Are you comfortable with the Side-Along Apparition?” 

My mind flashes back to a forest, to the smell of blood, Harry’s screams. Another memory of a different night, this time with snow, an old hag, and a monstrous snake. I have to shake my head to rid myself of the memories before they fully rise to the surface.

“Side-Along is fine.”

A sharp squeeze and pop later and we are standing in front of the restaurant that has become the unofficial meeting spot for Ginny, Luna, and my monthly meetings. Some of the lingering tension in my body rushes away at the sight of the familiar awning. 

I don’t comment when Malfoy’s hand moves from gripping my shoulder to the small of my back. I hope he doesn’t notice my breath catching or my heart racing. If he does, he mercifully doesn’t say anything as he leads me inside, straight to the back room where I have spent many hours drinking with my friends in.

“I meant to ask you earlier about my choice of establishment. I hope you don’t mind. It’s one of the few places that will truly grant me some semblance of anonymity.” He stops walking then, his hand moving around my body to rest on the crest of my hip, so he can look into my eyes. Desire courses through me, but I force myself to remain calm.

With my opposite hand, I brush aside a few wayward curls from my face. “It’s lovely. I adore this place. I still need to ask Mr. Zabini about the charms he used on this window. It’s such an elegant piece of magic. There are so many possibilities for its use.”

Countless ideas, theories I have long since pondered after observing the magic so many times, bubble to the surface of my mind. I have to forcefully clamp my mouth shut to stop from launching into a thirty-minute lecture on the applications of such a magical tool. Ron always hated when I got stuck in what he called “swotty Mione mode.”

Malfoy chuckles and reaches his other hand up to brush the same curls I tried, and failed, to move earlier behind my ear. “Don’t hold yourself back on my account, Granger. I love hearing how that beautiful mind of yours works.”

His words sound so genuine. I know that I am blushing so much that I would probably match the scarlet of Harry’s old Quidditch robes, but I can’t help it. Is it even possible that someone would want to hear me talk about this sort of stuff? No, he’s probably just being generous.

“It’s alright. I have been told that I can be a bit overwhelming when I launch into discussions about these sorts of things.” I pull out of his hold and try to sit down, but he stops me, pulling out a chair before letting me sit down. Ever the Pureblood gentleman. 

A waiter comes in, with a bottle of elf wine that probably costs more than my monthly rent. I can’t help that my eyes go wide at the sight, but Malfoy simply checks the vintage, nods, and sends the waiter back out with a request to “bring us whatever the chef feels is most appropriate.”

“Alright there, Granger?” That smirk is back. It almost makes me forget about the cold spots on my body, places where he was touching a few moments ago.

I fight to keep some of the derision from my voice. “You don’t have to ply me with expensive alcohol. In case you didn’t notice, I did agree to come out with you tonight, with barely any coercion necessary.”

A mischievous light glints in his eyes. “You forget that I’m a Slytherin, my dear Miss Granger. If I had coerced you, you wouldn’t have any idea.”

The next few minutes are spent in relative silence, not heavy and constricting like it was when Ron and I lived together, but easy. Almost comfortable. Like a deep breath of fresh air. It leaves me free to stare out the window, watching people frantically pass by. I will get enough of the ability to go unnoticed. To walk through the streets and not have to worry about being photographed. To leave work and not be harassed by people wanting a statement about my divorce or my relationship with Harry. I wonder what Malfoy sees when he walks these people.

“They are so peaceful. It’s probably silly, but I find it to be a beautiful sight.”

“The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” Malfoy agrees. I turn my head to see the light in his eyes, but I nearly fall out of my chair when I realize that he is not looking out the window.

He’s looking at me!

I turn my head, ducking it so he can’t see the blush creep back up into my cheeks. Damn him. I had just lost the red coloring. 

“Don’t.”

It comes out almost choked, but it draws my attention back to his silver eyes. “Don’t hide from me, Granger.”

I take it like a challenge, meeting his stare, not daring to drop my eyes. The moment stretches on for a painful moment. Might as well make it even more awkward and get it over with. “Why did you wait so long to ask me out?”

Just like that, like a rubber band pulled far too tight, the moment snaps. I can almost see the walls going up in his mind. His emotions, once again, become hidden behind the mask that he too often wears in public. 

“I wanted to give you time.” He drops his gaze from mine, losing in our unofficial game of chicken. 

Something in my heart cracks open, releasing a flood of emotions that I have held back since that horrendous dinner. I try for a little humor. If I don’t, my own mask will fall and even I am not ready to see my own thoughts unfiltered. “So you just decided to schedule a ton of lunch meetings with me and hope that I didn’t notice?”

Thankfully, he chuckles a little, but the walls are still up. I don’t know how I can tell, but I can. “I’m surprised that I would need to remind anyone with a brain like yours about the fact that I am a Slytherin at heart.”

“Maybe this is why I have never dated a snake before. I’m not nearly as well-equipped for these mind games.”

With that same sincerity that he has had from the beginning, he whispers, “I wouldn’t play mind games with you.”

The waiter walks back in with a few plates of food levitating behind him, breaking the tension. This is not how I pictured tonight going, but I guess this is what I get for abandoning my Gryffindor courage and refusing to ask him out.

Well, I won’t do that now. I need to treat this like a regular date, with someone that I just met. Not my childhood bully who has become one of my confidants over the past few years. 

“Tell me about your family.” Malfoy’s hand holding his fork shakes a little with surprise. The mask still expertly hides the expression from his face, but his hands are a tell that I noticed a while ago.

He puts the utensil down. “What would you like to know?”

Everything. As much as you’ll tell me. “Luna tells me that you are very close with Theodore and I assume Mr. Zabini.”

A gentle smile settles across his features. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest in a confident, relaxed manner. If it weren’t impolite, I imagine that his feet would be propped up on the nearest piece of furniture. He looks every bit the suave playboy that the Prophet makes him out to be.

“Blaise would lose it if he heard you calling him Mr. Zabini. He’d say it makes him sound old.”

“Malfoy, that doesn’t-”

“They are like my brothers. No, they are my brothers. We grew up together and they were with me during . . . they have stood by my side, even when it wasn’t easy. They are the first people that I introduced Zoe to.”

I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t remember you spending much time with them at Hogwarts.”

“We didn’t act close when we could be seen by others. It was a liability, a weakness to be exploited. And my father wanted me to befriend Vince and Greg. So I did. But Blaise and Theo were always there, just well-hidden.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how does Luna fit with them? I have never spent much time with either Theodore-”

“Theo.” He gently corrects.

“Theo.” I nod at him, a smile across my lips. “And Blaise, but I can’t imagine Luna fitting in well with a group of snakes.”

Malfoy’s laugh is deep and rumbling. I can feel the vibrations against my skin. The tug in my chest feels as if someone plucked a string. “She didn’t. Not initially at least. But Blaise, Pans, and I would do anything to see Theo happy. He didn’t exactly have a lot of examples of love growing up, so if it took learning the quirks of a Ravenclaw, with stunning hair I might add, then we didn’t have any deep issues with it.”

I can only imagine the first time Luna spent quality time with all of them. I can just see her spouting off some statement about nargles and watching the Slytherins try not to sneer in disgust or screw their faces into those of confusion. 

“What about Parkinson?”

“What about her?” He raises an eyebrow at that.

Visions of a short girl with raven hair clinging onto his arm, cooing about his injury flash through my mind. “I mean how does she fit in? I mean, didn’t you two used to be, you know, together?”

He shudders. “Yes, we were together for nearly two years, but she and I are better off as friends. She’s the friend that will kick my ass if she thinks I need it. We were never very well suited as a couple. Blaise mellows her out in a way that I never could.”

“And that’s not weird for you?”

A shrug of his shoulders. “No. Not really. It’s not as if she routinely compares notes about the two of us at dinner.”

I laugh at the imagined scenario of a detailed comparison of both lovers, though my mind quickly wanders toward imagining his body, in all its glory. His voice brings me out of my imagination.

“Don’t think that you are getting out of this game, Granger. What about you?”

I should’ve known that the snake wouldn’t settle for only talking about himself. “There’s not much to tell really. At least not much that you don’t already know.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that. What about you and Potter? Nothing romantic there, ever?”

My face screws into disgust faster than I can rein it in. That cursed rumor destroyed my reputation for years, leading to part of the vitriol that now follows me. “Merlin no! It would be like kissing my brother. Despite the countless rumors by Rita Skeeter, Harry and I have never been and will never be together. It would be disgusting, not to mention the fact that he and Ginny are practically perfect for one another. I mean, they have the most adorable children and they just, well they are just perfect.”

“I would have to agree that Weaselette is annoyingly well-suited for breaking down Potter’s ego.” 

I can’t help but laugh. The conversation continues to flow as we eat dinner. He tells me an utterly ridiculous story about Luna apparently convincing Parkinson to wear her radish earrings for a week. I tell him about the time that George and Angelina brought over a few Pygmy Puffs which got loose. We spent an entire night trying to chase the little things around the Burrow, going as far as to go gnome-hunting since a few of the ghastly creatures decided to horde the Puffs that they could get their hands on.

My head has a delightful buzz and I honestly can’t remember the last time that I felt so free and happy. He looks just as relaxed. Merlin, I hope he feels the same way. I could sit here for hours.

I’m not sure how much time goes by, but the waiter comes back into the room, bringing a plate of cheesecake with him. Malfoy grabs a slice with what looks to be chocolate chips before I can even try to figure out the flavor of each slice.

“Well, it’s obvious that you have no affinity for chocolate?” I roll my eyes for emphasis but think back to the packages of sweets he used to open at the Slytherin table. He would always keep all of the Chocolate Frogs to himself, distributing the other sweets to those around him, usually Crabbe and Goyle. Though it’s not as if I can bring up that observation.

To his credit, he blushes slightly. Not much, certainly not as much as I was earlier tonight, but enough that some color decorates his cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, as he has a mouthful of cheesecake. I just chuckle, shake my head, and grab a slice that is decorated with an assortment of berries.

He is nearly finished with the piece before I try to start the conversation up again. “So Ginny tells me that Lily has taken a liking to you.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Though she is far more beautiful than either of the two boys. Unlucky gents to have inherited that hair.”

I smile gently. I can almost see their hair in front of me, knowing that no matter what I do it will never sit flat. “How does Zoe get along with all of them?”

He looks torn. I don’t know why he is so hesitant to talk about her, but I know that he loves her. I just want to know more about her, since she is so important to him. “Zoe is incredibly patient with the younger two. More so than she has any right to be at her age. The oldest; however, let’s just say that their relationship would be a bit more reminiscent of our school days than anything.”

I grimace. “It can’t truly be that bad, can it?”

“I imagine you would shudder to see the two of them interact.” He is still a bit closed off. I can tell that he is uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation has gone, but I don’t want him to hold back.

“I don’t mean to pry, Malfoy. You just don’t speak about her very often, outside of interviews of course. I just want to know more about her, since she is your daughter after all.”

He softens a little. “She is my whole world. She is insatiably curious about everything. She is a stickler for manners unless we are alone. She has managed to wrap everyone around her little finger and she will be a proud asset to Slytherin house if she does go to Hogwarts.”

It takes me a second before his words truly register. I’m too busy thinking about all of the adorable moments they must have had together. But when they do finally come together in my head, I’m incredibly confused. “Wait, what do you mean “if” she goes to Hogwarts?”

“I haven’t decided whether she will go to Hogwarts yet.” He is so calm when he says it like it is not a major decision. The tone is the one I would use if discussing what I wanted to eat for breakfast, not the magical education of my child.

I can’t help the frustration that seeps into my voice on Zoe’s behalf. “And why would she not go to Hogwarts? She’s not a Squib, is she? I thought you mentioned her displaying accidental magic years ago.”

He frowns at me. Clearly, he recognizes my tone. “She displays more control over her magic than some adults I know. Regardless of her magical status; however, I have yet to determine if Hogwarts is truly safe enough to permit her to attend.”

“Hogwarts is the safest place for magical children. And what kind of magical education will she get if she isn’t allowed to study there? You would just be holding her back.”

He practically growls at me. All the tension that had been slowly bleeding out of his stance since we started talking about Zoe comes back in full force. “Not that you have any say over what my child does or does not do, but Zoe will have the best magical education available to her. Surely you, of all people, can recognize that Hogwarts was less than the bastion of safety it purported itself to be. For Merlin’s sake, you fought a mountain troll in the first year!”

Irritation is rolling off me in waves, not for my own sake, but for the sake of the intelligent little girl with eyes of steel who so bravely defended her father from me. “That’s not a reason to deprive her of an essential part of her life as a witch! You would continue to keep her locked away from the rest of the world, just because you are scared to let her go?”

The accusation hangs in the air, permeating the space between us. He doesn’t respond. No, he just stares me down, as if an icy gaze can stop those words from tumbling from my mouth.

“I heeded your suggestions the first time, but I will remind you that Zoe is MY daughter. You do not have any say over her life.”

My hair is sparking and my magic is restless. The tug in my chest is pulling harder than ever like it is itching to jump out of my skin. It takes everything in me to keep from rubbing at the spot between my collarbones. I don’t know when or how it happened, but we are both standing, looking for all the world like we are about to square off in a duel.

I am about to respond but a bright light bursts into the room, materializing into a majestic stag. 

Malfoy! Victim drop at 1143 W Hanston Road. Get your sorry arse here now. It’s bad. We think . . . we think it’s Dolohov’s work.

Chapter Text

Zowena

June 26, 2009

I stare at the front door that Dad disappeared through for a few more seconds, even though I know he is gone. He would have stayed with me. He said as much, and, even if he hadn’t made it obvious with his words, he almost looked desperate for me to say that he could stay. I really, really wanted to tell him not to leave, but he has been avoiding asking Miss Granger out on a date for so long. Aunt Pans and I had talked about staging an intervention if he didn’t do something besides moping around whenever someone brought her up. I couldn’t let him cancel for me, not when I was perfectly fine. 

Or at least, I will be.

“What would Little Mistress want Effie to make for dinner?” I almost forgot that Effie was still in the entryway, staring up at me with her big, blue eyes. 

“Could we have that lemon salmon that you made a few weeks ago?” She nods, her ears flapping nervously. 

She toys with the hem of her dress, a cute little yellow sundress that Aunt Pans made her. “Little Mistress shouldn’t be spending all day in Little Mistress’ room. It is a very nice day outside today. Effie would take Little Mistress to Storybook Island if Little Mistress wanted to fly without Master?”

Effie won’t make me fly if I don’t want to. She might push and suggest, but she will let me choose. She always does. Still, I don’t want to see her eyes get sad so I look away when I give her the answer that she definitely does not want. “I’m okay, Effie. I have something else that I want to do before dinner.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t apparate into the kitchen to start cooking. She’s looking at me, I can feel it while I walk back down the hallway to my suite. There is no noise, just the sound of my feet on the old floorboards. It’s a little bit creepy, especially with all of the portraits lining the halls that try to speak but can’t be heard. Dad put them all under silencing charms years ago. I can’t remember the last time that any of them talked. But I know them all by name. I can even tell you who they married, how many kids they had, and when they died. 

My room is just as quiet as the hallway, but way less creepy. The dragons that usually zoom around my walls are all concentrated in the empty spaces next to the bed. Whenever I am sad, or sick, they all cluster as close to the bed as they can, like they can help me get better by being closer. I spent so much time curled on my bed today, that they all seem hesitant to leave their places. Like I will jump back in bed any second and start crying again. 

Instead of going back to my bed, I wander into my closet, grabbing a pair of the workout clothes that Dad got me a while ago. The clothes that I have hidden on a back shelf in my closet so Aunt Pans doesn't see them. 

I change into a pair of black leggings, an emerald green tank top, and my white Muggle trainers that Dad bought me. Once I’m changed, I walk out of my room toward the training room that Dad has set up downstairs, pulling my hair into a ponytail while I go.

The room is warded with heavy magic, to make sure that none of the other Baby Snakes can get in. But I can. It is clued to our blood, so all I have to do is prick my finger and I can walk straight through the door like it’s nothing. I think that Dad forgets that I can get in by myself sometimes, but I’m not going to remind him. Without a wand, I couldn’t even start trying to take down the wards. Plus, Dad’s wards are crazy good. Even Uncle Theo has a hard time taking them down. It would take me forever and I’d probably have to take breaks so I didn’t overuse my magic.

The best part of this room, and the reason I came in here in the first place, is that Effie doesn’t like coming in here. She yelled at Dad when he told her about our training. Every time we go in to do my magic training or practice fighting, she snarls at Dad and goes to a different area of the Manor to clean. She won’t bother me here.

She really hasn’t been that much of a bother today, but she worries about me. A lot! When I didn’t come down for breakfast right away, she apparated into my room without any warning. Then she wouldn’t let me sleep longer without having something to eat. She stood at the end of my bed for almost a half hour, with her big eyes, while stomping her foot to get me to hurry up. 

It’s not her fault. She just wants me to be happy. But I did not want to talk to anyone this morning. I still don’t want to talk to anyone. And she has barely left me alone all day, checking on me every few minutes like I would disappear if she wasn’t looking. 

So, here I am, in the training room, definitely not hiding from her. Dad says that it is sometimes nice to work out your feelings on the dummies that we practice with when we play fight. He says that channeling emotion can make you more powerful, as long as the emotion isn’t in charge. Maybe that will help me.

The big, dark brown punching bag is in the corner of the room, next to a roll of tape. It takes me a little longer than usual to tape my wrists and ankles. Dad normally helps me, making sure that the tape supports my hands and feet. I’ve only done it by myself a few times and I have to redo my left wrist twice because I screwed up the loop around my thumb.

Once I’m all taped up, I step back into the starting stance: my left foot about two steps behind my right, both hands up in front of my face. I swing my left first, thumb outside of the rest of my fingers, toward the bag. It still stings when I hit the surface, but I’ve done this enough that I don’t grimace anymore. I switch my hips, swiveling into the punch with my left again, and follow that punch with a quick jab from my right. 

Before too long, I don’t have to think about how I want to hit the bag, occasionally swinging my leg around to hit the bag between my foot and knee. My breathing gets heavy and my muscles are getting tired, but I find a rhythm and stick to it.

Punch left. Breathe out.

Are you having troubles with that, Zo-wen-ah?

Kick left, punch right. Back to start.

Unless Daddy says it’s okay.

Strike left. Strike right—circle kick. Breathe.

At least my Mom cares about me.

My last swing is soft, weak. My muscles are so sore. I don’t know how long I was working, but I feel sticky and hot from all the sweat. And Dad’s not here to give me a glass of water, so I’m on my own unless I want to call for Effie.

I collapse onto the ground, my chest twisting painfully as His words float around my head. I want to shut them out, to forget about them, to let them just roll off my back. I want to shut them behind layer after layer of walls in my mind, but for some reason, my walls get knocked down each time and my heart hurts all over again.

James’ voice echoes in my head and no matter how much I tried to ignore it all day, it keeps creeping back in. The last week has been the longest week ever. I really wish I had convinced Dad to skip our dinner with the Potters. Then, none of this would have happened. I would probably be upstairs gossiping with Effie about how Dad’s date was going, not sitting on the floor of the training room trying to ignore the grating voice of a certain black-haired boy who can’t seem to leave me alone.

After the ball, things were so weird. I would never admit it to Dad, but I couldn’t stop thinking about James. About his snide remarks. His stupid nickname for me. His atrocious dancing. His suit, that didn’t match his personality at all. His eyes, that followed me until we left the ball. 

It was like he was still following me around, even when we got home. He wasn’t even that bad at the ball, but I couldn’t tell Dad that I didn’t want to go because I wasn’t sure what to say to him. That wasn’t a good excuse. So I let him believe that James was just mean to me and Dad still refused to cancel.

Then there was the dinner. That disastrous thing. Even thinking about last night makes me want to stay in a ball on the floor. But it’s too hot in this room and I really need to shower. I feel just as sticky as James normally is, or how the twins can be after they eat sweets. I leave the training room and start going back to my suite, running the dinner over and over again in my head.

Despite the fact that I hadn’t wanted to go, I did want to see Al and Lils, so I tried to look forward to the easy parts of the night. Thankfully, when we got to the Potter’s house, Lils occupied my time right away, pushing off any meeting with James. 

It was great until James showed up. And, of course, the only seat that ended up being available for him to sit in was right next to me. It was like some sort of bad joke. It took all of my practice in building walls to stop from begging Dad to switch me places. But that would have been outside the bounds of propriety. I’m not senior enough to sit at the end of the table.

Anyways, the dinner had started off nice. Al was actually way more polite than normal like he was trying to impress me. I don’t even remember if I complimented him. I really need to do that in my next letter to him. Then James had to open his stupid mouth.

It wouldn’t have bothered me, not really . . . Okay, it bothered me a little that he was so careless about being safe on a broom. I mean, I’ve been flying forever, but Dad always makes sure that I am super safe. And he was talking about doing all sorts of crazy things. By himself!! If he had fallen, he would’ve been seriously hurt. 

But then he spit out some food on me. It was disgusting. But I did my best to cover it up. And I didn’t comment on his flying while he was telling his story. I was try-ing to be polite but he opened his big mouth and made everything so much worse.

Most of what he said didn’t hurt. It was nothing he hadn’t said before and nothing that Uncle Theo hadn’t told me a long time ago. No, it was just when he brought up my mom. 

I’m not stupid. Dad has told me about her, about what she did, about why they aren’t married anymore. I know that I wasn’t safe with her and that Dad feels guilty for taking her away. But what I don’t get is why she never once came back. Why she didn’t care enough about me to even ask if I was okay? 

Dad tries. I know he does. But I have heard him and Effie talking about it. How I need a mother. I don’t know if I need one. I have Aunt Pans and Aunt Lu. But I also won’t say that I don’t get jealous when I see the Baby Snakes and even Al and Lils with their moms.

Dad doesn’t get it. I don’t think he ever will. Not when he still talks about Nana Cissa like he loves her more than almost anything. So I don’t tell him, or anyone else. Except for Bruce. But I tell Bruce everything since he’s the best secret keeper, mostly cause he doesn’t try to tell me what to do. 

Once I am all showered and changed into some silk pajamas, I wander back down to the kitchen. There is music blaring and I can tell that Effie is definitely having a lot of fun. 

A couple of years ago, after we watched the Lion King together and I wouldn’t stop singing the songs, Dad found a Muggle music player and he added a ton of cool charms to it. Now, if we go to Muggle London, we can get some of the songs from movies and play them on the music player. The charms make the songs louder and lets you pick which songs you want.

Effie, especially, loves the music player and uses it when she is cooking for just Dad and I. She doesn’t do it when guests are coming over, cause it’s not professional, but when it’s just us, she will play it super loud and dance in the kitchen while she cooks away.

I don’t try to make my footsteps quiet as I approach the swinging doors. The song doesn’t get any quieter. Effie must not hear me yet. There are bowls and spoons working all around the kitchen and Effie is in the middle of the kitchen spinning herself in circles to “I Won’t Say I’m in Love.”

I can’t help but giggle as Effie juts her hip out on the beat. She turns to face me, with a grin of her own on her face. With a snap of her fingers, the knife that she was using to cut up some lemons in front of her on a floating cutting board starts working on its own. She reaches out a hand to me and drags me to the center of the room with her.

With another snap of her fingers and the music player switches again. This time it plays “Human Again” from Beauty and the Beast. Effie is too short to be able to hold in a proper dance hold, but we don’t really care about that as we start waltzing around the kitchen. I don’t know which one of us is leading and I have to shove down my concerns that Master Pycell (my dance instructor) will yell at me for my elbows flapping around like a chicken.

Effie tries to spin me around, but I’m way too tall, so I have to let go of her hand to spin all the way. Every once in a while we have to duck to avoid flying bowls, but by the end of the song, we are both laughing so hard that we can barely stand up still.

Effie pulls me over to the bench by the kitchen table and sits me down proclaiming loudly that “it’s Effie’s turn.” Another snap has the song switching to Effie’s all-time favorite, “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King.”

While I watch, Effie sings along to the music, doing her own interpretive dance while she gracefully dodges the bowls zooming past. The song is over way too fast and then she is dragging me back up and pushing me toward the center of the room.

“Little Mistress goes now.”

I don’t even bother to protest, having way too much fun. I snap my fingers, hoping that the music player has my song in it. The first couple of notes of the song start and I take a deep breath to pretend to compose myself before I start singing and dancing to “Part of Your World.”

A few more songs play before dinner is done, so Effie and continue our talent show, largely ignoring the kitchen supplies that are tirelessly working behind us. By the time dinner is done, even though I’m super hungry, I don’t really want to eat. I practically pout when Effie levitates a plate in front of me at the table. She smiles and the song gets quieter so we can actually talk to each other instead of shouting over the songs.

“Little Mistress needs to eat, then Effie will let Little Mistress play more.” She is still smiling, but her eyes aren’t as bright as they were while we were dancing.

I hadn’t realized how nice the last few minutes were. I was having so much fun that my brain didn’t have any time to think about everything that had happened, but now that the music isn’t as loud, those thoughts are sneaking back in. 

Effie’s smile disappears and she looks concerned as she reaches for my hand once again. “Will Little Mistress tell Effie? Effie wants to help. Little Mistress should not be so sad.”

I take a deep breath and tell her everything. All about the weird feeling in my chest, about James and everything that he said. About my jealousy and not wanting to bother Dad. I even tell her about how dancing with James went. 

She doesn’t interrupt me, except by flapping her ears when she is surprised by something I said. She also doesn’t let go of my hand, just stroking her bony finger on the back of it, like Dad does when I’m nervous.

Her ears flap a little and she looks way off in the distance. Adults do that a lot when they are thinking, I’ve noticed. When she looks back at me, she speaks slower than normal. It’s like she’s trying to be careful about what she says. 

“Effie has served lots of wizards and witches. Effie knew Master when Master was a little baby, and Effie remembers when Master was Little Mistress’ age. Yes, Effie does. Master was very smart and good at lots of things. But Master was not always very nice.”

I roll my eyes. I know that. Dad has told me all about that. “What does that have to do with anything, Effie? I’m not mad at Dad.”

Faster than I can see, Effie raps my hand with the one not currently holding onto it. The sharp sting makes me pull away. “Ow. Effie, why’d you do that?”

“Because Little Mistress didn’t let Effie finish.” She reaches out and grabs my hand again, rubbing circles into it once more, like nothing ever happened.

“When Master grew up, Master became a good wizard. Children do not know how to be good wizards and witches yet. Children make mistakes. It’s okay for Little Mistress to be angry at Little Master Potter, but Little Mistress needs to remember that Little Master Potter probably made a mistake.”

I bite my lip, letting the idea settle in my mind. My anger doesn’t disappear, but it does lessen. The voices start to get a little quieter, but one thing still blares in my brain like an alarm. “What about my mom?”

Effie looks like she’s about to cry. Her fingers tighten around mine. “Little Mistress is the smartest and bestest witch in the world. Effie loves Effie’s Little Mistress. Miss Greengrass did a very bad thing. Miss Greengrass does not get to be close to Effie’s Little Mistress. It’s okay for Little Mistress to be sad, but Little Mistress has lots of family who love Little Mistress. And Little Mistress has Effie.”

She says the last sentence like it's the end of all arguments about the subject. I mean, she does make a good point. Effie is pretty awesome. But I know that she isn’t saying something. Maybe it’s because I’m young, but she is holding back. I don’t want to prod her though. 

I stand up and move around the table, throwing my arms around her neck, squeezing her tightly. “I love you, Effie. Thanks.”

She squeezes back. “Effie loves Little Mistress too.”

Effie and I sat and ate dinner together. Then she chased me out of the kitchen, conjured a few blankets and we made a blanket fort in the screening room while watching The Little Mermaid . Effie left after the movie to clean up the kitchen, so I could wait for Dad in the library for when he came home from his date. 

I felt way better and I could barely sit still. I just wanted to know what happened, whether he took her home or not. I also wanted to make fun of him for being so nervous earlier. 

That’s how I found myself sitting on the couch in the living room, in front of a new rug by the fireplace, curled in my blanket from Nana Cissa. I was reading a new book series about a boy who was descended from the ancient Greek gods, which was totally ridiculous, but super fun to read. 

It wasn’t until Effie came in and woke me up that I even realized I had fallen asleep waiting for Dad. If she woke me up, that meant that Dad still wasn’t home. I used my magic to try and feel around the wards of the Manor. 

Nothing. Not even a little disturbance that could’ve been Dad lingering outside the gates.

I wanted to wait longer, but Effie grabbed my hand and drug me upstairs, claiming that I needed a good night’s sleep since I had such a rough night last night. She tucked me in, the dragons on my wall still clustered by my bed, and swished her hand, turning off the lights.

I tried to stay up, and honestly, I did, but I fell into sleep, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to me. 

When I woke up the next morning to the sun streaming in my window, I nearly jumped out of bed to go find Effie. That was until I realized that Dad was sitting in the armchair in the corner of my room. He looked super tired. He wasn’t wearing the clothes that he wore for his date, but he definitely hadn’t slept all night. 

He must have heard my blankets rustle cause he turned his head toward me. I threw the blankets off of me and collided with his chest. He pulled me in tight, laid his chin on the top of my head, and breathed in deeply. We just stood there for a few minutes. 

I tried to pull away, but Dad held on tighter. He stood up a little, his head no longer resting on mine, and he started to speak. “Zoe, something happened last night.”

His voice was quiet and raw. He sounded like he had been screaming at something. My heart started beating faster, but I tried to stay calm. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

“Master Pycell was killed last night.” 

Chapter Text

Draco

June 26, 2009

Malfoy! Victim drop at 1143 W Hanston Road. Get your sorry arse here now. It’s bad. We think . . . we think it’s Dolohov’s work.

With that, the stag inclines an antlered head at Granger and snorts at me. Both Granger and I are around the table in seconds, the anger from earlier lingering. We don’t touch each other, not while we both have the address. It’s near a small church that is used as an Apparition point. No need to Side-Along. 

Part of me wants to reach out to her, wants to grab her hand and intertwine our fingers like they were just a few hours ago, but her words echo in my head and I know that she can sense the tension rippling off of me.

She won’t be able to make this better. Not tonight. Not when we are heading to a crime scene. Not when Potter saw fit to send me that message, knowing full well that I usually spent Sunday nights with  Zoe. No, if he was willing to send me that message, it must be bad. 

A second later, another flash of light bursts into the room, materializing into a lynx. Kingsley’s Patronus. 

Hermione. All hands on deck. Sorry to ruin your Sunday, but Harry needs you at 1143 W Hanston Road. I’m authorizing full use of department resources.

My breath hitches. If I needed confirmation that this won’t be pretty, I damn well have it, if they are calling her in. I don’t know what to expect, but I won’t back down. Not now that she’s coming as well. I check myself, ensuring that my mask is still in place, and force myself not to look over at her.

My hand twitches, almost imperceptibly, toward her. I wonder if she wants to hold my hand in the same way that I want to hold hers, despite my anger. But I won’t bend. Not even for her. She opens her mouth so I apparate, cutting her off while I make my way to the crime scene. She follows me, mere seconds later.

There’s already a protective shield around the area, with Muggle-Repelling charms. Good. Less chance of needing to call in an Obliviation Squad. 

I don’t bother to stop to talk to any of the grunts standing outside the circle, and they don’t bother to stop me as I stride straight through the wards like they are paper. Inside the wards look like chaos. Aurors are darting around the perimeter, scanning for clues, magical signatures, and anything that can point to how this crime scene was created and where the perpetrator went.

Potter stands in the center of the storm, next to a limp figure splayed in a way that was obviously staged. Just based on what I can see, there is no way that a human body could bend that way independently. 

I can feel her behind me, shadowing my steps as I stride across the field toward both Potter and the victim. When I approach, I have to slam my occlumency shields up so fast, I end up swaying from the magical exertion, but I don’t regret my decision. 

The scene before me can only be described as grotesque. The man on the ground was left naked and exposed to the elements. His abdomen looks as though someone was rooting around, searching for something within the man's intestines. His limbs are covered in deep lacerations, exposing bone. Each opening is puckered, and red. But there is no blood on the grass. This wasn’t where the body was destroyed. No, it was put here for a reason.

His chest wasn’t left alone either. The sick bastard wouldn’t leave some part of the body untouched. Instead, he used the empty space to carve a message into his skin.

I’m coming for her

My blood turns to ice as I look at the man’s face, the only part of his body that was spared from the intense torture. My heart thuds in my chest and I barely recognize Potter coming up behind me, likely explaining how he was found to Granger.

I stare and stare at the old man, visions of him correcting Zoe’s arms while executing a proper Vietnamese waltz. Over the past few years, I have only let a select number of people into my home, with very explicit instructions and magical exceptions to allow them into the wards. It was a difficult decision for me to make, but after Granger talked me into exposing Zoe to the real world, I wanted to broaden her exposure to people in a safe environment. 

Now, one of the few people I allowed into the Malfoy Manor is laying in front of me, utterly decimated. Even if that damned man had not written those words on his chest, this is nothing other than a message to me. I have no doubt in my mind that Dolohov knew who Master Pycell was and what his relationship with my family was. 

What scares me the most is that he referenced Zoe. He threatened Zoe. After everything, I have done, and every protection I have put in place, she still isn’t safe. Every fiber of my being wants me to run back to the Manor, lock everyone out of the wards, and refuse to leave until Dolohov is in custody... But at the same time, I know that Zoe would never let me do that.

It takes everything I have to keep my expression blank, to remain composed. It’s only with luck and experience that my occlumency shields hold while I am stuck in my own mind.

“- and no one has been able to identify him yet.” I barely notice Potter speaking, but that catches my attention. How does no one know who he is? I understand why Potter has no clue. It’s obvious from the way he dances that he hasn’t met a dance instructor once in his life. But Master Pycell is one of the most famous dance instructors in Great Britain. Every pureblood child in my generation and the last was taught by him. 

I cast a quick diagnostic charm over the body and a greenish hue settles over the entire body. I’ve never seen a charm like this, a specific glamor with a select few clued into the true nature of the person. There are layered spells and runes all interspersed. If I wasn’t disgusted by the sight in front of me, if it wasn’t taking everything in me to keep from shaking with fury and fear, I would be impressed by the ingenuity of the magic before me. 

Potter finally drags me back to the present. “Malfoy, we need to get your team on identifying this man and finding out why someone would have targeted him. Malfoy? . . . Oi, Malfoy!”

By some miracle, my voice doesn’t shake. “No need, Potter. I can give you an identification.”

“Then what the hell are you waiting for Malfoy?” His frustration is evident. It’s late, a Sunday. This is not the way either of us thought our weekend would go.

I meet his eyes, letting a morsel of my fear seep into my stare. Every fiber of my being riots against the idea of letting someone else see my vulnerability, but Potter of all people will understand. He has to understand.

“This is Zoe’s dance instructor, Master Pycell.”

Silence hangs in the air. No one moves. I can barely hear people breathing still. I don’t look at Granger, I won’t. It might break me to see her pity. I just keep staring at Potter. His eyes reflect the fear in my own. I can practically see his brain fitting the pieces together. I don’t know if he notices that he mouths the grotesque words carved into the old man’s chest as he comes to the same conclusion that has me feeling paralyzed.

He takes one step toward me, slowly. Like I am a spooked animal. But he stops after that first step, freezing in place. It’s not his voice that finally starts to calm some of the storm roiling inside me though. That title belongs to the brave lioness who has moved around me to stand next to Potter. 

Her eyes are alight with concern, but she still looks as determined as ever. There is still some lingering fury seeping into her expression from our earlier conversation, but, ever the Gryffindor, she seems determined to leave it behind her. “Malfoy. You need to get home and stay there until one of us says you can leave. We will have some Aurors assigned to the Manor. But you need to go and check on her.”

My magic leaps in response to her order, almost pulling me away to the Manor before I can think about this logically. In the way that I would if this were just some nameless victim. I can’t afford to make this personal, not when it will affect my work. Not when it will put Zoe in more danger. 

“No! Absolutely no Aurors!” My voice is cold and hard as steel.

That fire sparks in her hair, her magic starting to fizzle along her hair. “What? I know you’re upset right now, but you don’t get to disobey a direct order.”

“I don’t give a shit about orders right now, Granger. She is my daughter, mine to protect. Not yours! And I say that there will not be any aurors anywhere near that property without my express permission.”

She wants me to back down, just like she did earlier, but I refuse. I won’t take any chances with Zoe. And each person that is able to come through the wards is only an added danger to her. 

I expect another scathing retort or more of a fight, but some of the fire goes out. Her determination is replaced by pity and even, oh shit is that guilt? My heart pangs painfully, but I can’t dwell on that right now. Now I need to get home, I need to see Zoe, to make sure she is okay.

“Alright, Malfoy. No Aurors. But you don’t leave her until you hear from Harry or me, do you understand?”

I nod, slowly before responding coolly. “Understood, ma’am.”

With that, I allow my magic to engulf me, apparating into Zoe’s bedroom. I was gone for hours, far past a reasonable hour for Zoe to be awake, especially since she slept so poorly the night before. Surely Effie took her to bed instead of letting her wait for me in the library.

I’m not disappointed to find her in her bed, snuggled tightly against Bruce, on the right side of her bed. I run every diagnostic charm I can think of over her sleeping form, relief flooding my chest when each comes back clear and healthy. 

Safe. She is safe. She is here. She’s okay.

Every wall I had tried to create today comes crashing down in a flash. I have just enough presence of mind to throw a silencing charm around myself before my chest caves in on itself. I can’t stay standing and I fall to the floor, heaving with sobs. My hands are shaking and my mind starts playing tricks on me.

Visions of blood covering my skin, distorted figures who have lost all of their humanity, bright lights flying from wands toward unassuming, blameless individuals. I’m scratching at that blasted tattoo without really thinking about it. I can feel the snake slithering through my veins, feel it traveling toward my heart. I can’t let it get there. I need it off.

Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!

Someone grabs my hands and I almost curse them, until I recognize the soothing touch of her magic. Effie’s small hands are stronger than they have any right to be around my own wrists, holding my hands away from my forearm.

She’s whispering to me, calming words that I can’t quite hear. Her tone is soothing, as is the magic that she uses to conjure a glass of tea and a blanket that I haven’t used in years: my baby blanket. 

Once she’s sure that I won’t resume scratching at my arm, she releases my hand and guides me into the armchair in the corner of Zoe’s room. Effie stands to the side of the chair, running her hand up and down my arm in soothing strokes.

Slowly, but surely, the tears start to ebb. My vision clears, just enough to let me glimpse my arm. Deep gouges cover the entire surface, with blood dripping in a steady stream from each one. Despite the damage, the insidious ink remains unmarred, sinking in farther under my skin. A choked noise works its way out of my throat at the sight, but I hold my hands away from it. 

“Master should call Mister Theo to help him heal his arm.” It’s not the bossy tone that I have come to expect and love from my elf. She sounds unsure, maybe scared. Whatever it is, it’s unsettling. But I feel so numb, drained from all the emotions of the past few hours.

“I don’t want it healed. I want it gone.” My voice is robotic, even to my own ears. Effie flinches at the monotonous words.

She scuttles around to the front of the chair, conjuring a washcloth and a bowl of water. “Well, Effie won’t let Master look like a mess when Little Mistress wakes up.”

There’s that bossiness. Thank Merlin.

Effie grabs my arm, gently pulling it towards her. She starts washing the blood off with such care. It’s not the first time she has helped me clean blood off my body, but it’s been so long that I forgot the gentle strength she possesses. And the devastation that crosses her face every time she does this. 

I let her work in silence, not wanting to voice everything I have learned. I don’t want to put any more burdens on her shoulders, and I’m not ready to discuss this anyway.

“Is Effie’s Little Mistress in danger?” I look down at Effie to find her trembling, with tears filling her big blue eyes.

I don’t want to scare her, but I won’t lie to her. Not after everything we have been together. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

Effie takes in a shuddering breath, matched by my own shaky breathing. “Effie and Master will protect Little Mistress. Whatever Effie must do!”

I can’t offer her anything more than a nod. Mercifully, she understands. Or at the very least, she doesn’t push me.

“Master should get some sleep.” It’s almost pleading and I hate it.

“I’m fine here, Effie. I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

She looks like she wants to protest, but something in my face must warn her against it. So she just vanishes the cloth and bowl, keeping her eyes searching my face. She throws her arms around me, wrapping me in a hug. 

I lean into the embrace, into the simple gesture of affection. It ends far too quickly and she disapparates to her quarters. The loss of her warmth is noticeable, but I don’t bother saying anything.

I grab my wand from the spot that it fell on the floor and drop the bubble of silence around me and enlarging the blanket. The armchair is not built for sleeping, but I couldn’t give a rat’s arse right now. I can’t let her out of my sight. So I settle into the chair and keep my silent vigil on the peaceful blonde nestled into her blankets a few feet away.

When she finally wakes, my muscles are screaming in protest at the position on the chair that I had forced them into. Part of me wishes that she would have stayed asleep for a few more minutes if only to delay the news that I have to give her. 

I have no idea what her reaction is going to be. No idea how she is going to handle this. If I were a stronger man, I would find a way to keep this from her. To alleviate this burden. To make it so that she never had to know that there was any sort of evil in the world. But I can’t. She made me promise to tell her the truth and I’ll be damned if I hide this from her, even if it will break us both.

The blankets rustle and I’m pulled from my thoughts by an alert child, looking me up and down with so much concern that it’s painful.

As if I had been gone for years, she jumps off her bed and throws herself at me. I don’t care about the reason, I just grip her, pulling her tightly to me. My chin is resting on her messy head of hair, mussed from sleep and I take a deep breath in, letting her scent wash over me.

I’m holding onto her. She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s okay.

The hug lasts for a few minutes, but she doesn’t complain or move to pull away. She must need this as badly as I do. When it’s clear that she is ready for the hug to be over, maybe because she wants to say something, I give her a small squeeze, holding onto her for just a few moments.

She tries to pull away again, but I can’t look at her without losing my resolve. I straighten and start speaking before she has a chance to stop me. “Zoe, something happened last night.”

I wonder if she can hear the pain in my voice. I can feel her heartbeat speed up against my chest, but her voice doesn’t waver when she asks, “What’s wrong, Dad.”

I take a deep breath and start to pull away from her, she deserves to look me in the face. “Master Pycell was killed last night.”

She stares at me blankly for a few seconds, understanding barely crossing her features. “What are you talking about, Daddy?”

“Master Pycell was found dead last night. That’s why I was home late. I’m so sorry sweetheart, there was nothing we could do.”

My heart breaks as I watch her face fall. Her eyes well up with tears and I don’t hesitate to take her back into my arms. Her body is wracked with shudders as she cries against my chest. Her shoulders shake and I can feel tears forming in my own eyes.

“B-b-b-but . . . but, he c-can’t. I just-t-t-t. We just. He was just.” Each word is punctuated by sobs like she can’t catch her breath. I start stroking her hair, whispering nonsense phrases, just for some soft noise to try and calm her down, the way I used to when she was little.

She takes a few deep breaths, collecting her thoughts, though I can still feel the tears pouring out of her eyes. “Why would someone want to hurt him?”

And damn her if she didn’t know exactly the right questions to ask. 

“I think . . . We think someone wants to hurt you and they tried to use Master Pycell to do it.” Her shudders slowly stop and she grows silent. I want to pull away and read her face, or even read her mind if she won’t tell me. It’s eerily quiet until she decides to speak again.

“You need to catch them, Daddy. You need to catch the bad men who did this.” Her voice is hard as granite. It’s a voice that Lucius would be proud of. One that would send weaker men to their knees. The voice of the Malfoy heir.

For the first time in what feels like days, a small smile draws across my face, showcasing my pride for the girl in my arms. I know the severity of promises in her mind. I know that a promise means that I will do whatever it takes to accomplish my goal because she will demand it from me. It should make me wary, but at this moment, I don’t care if it will be the death of me. Instead, I just whisper into her hair.

“I promise you, Zoe, he won’t go unpunished.”

Chapter Text

Dolohov

June 26, 2009

Those worthless little peons keep rushing in and out of the protective bubble they cast around my, rather perfect, crime scene. Each one looks more frantic than the last. If this were any other masterpiece, I would be giddy with joy at the sheer chaos of it all, but my blood is still boiling.

It took me three months to track down the illusive dance instructor. Three months of combing through London, looking for any mention of the Malfoy Manor. The little blonde bastard had been careful, so careful about keeping his ancestral home locked up like a fortress. 

I knew from my time in the first war, it was nearly impossible to break through those wards. And that was before the upstart had gone and added his own to the ley lines. I had exhausted any weak link I could find within the wards and was still unsuccessful, so I did what I always do, adapt.

For weeks, I listened to every conversation I could, watched from the shadows, and generally observed all that I could about the Malfoys. I studied their lives, through the papers, and through whispers around town. Most was utterly useless gossip, meaningless people with no greater goal in life than to earn a few more Galleons. None had a greater purpose. Not like I do.

Finally, I had come across someone who believed that the old decrepit Master Pycell had stooped low enough to instruct blood traitors. The morsel of information was not verified, so I bided my time and watched. 

The old man was so careless. He had no idea that I was following him. He never checked behind him, never noticed the glamoured man who seemed to appear in every unwarded building he was in. It was as if the old man had no reason to be concerned. Foolish, foolish man.

At first, I attempted to exploit whatever connection he had to be able to enter the wards, but Malfoy was smarter than I would have given him credit for. The boy had ensured that no one would be able to enter the wards without his direct say-so. Even the dance teacher who graced the Manor’s presence every other week was forced to wait at the gates. Then the wards would only be keyed to his blood as the idiot Lord walked him into the grounds themselves.

After a month of recognizing the pattern of his visits, of noting the times in his schedule when the old man was the most vulnerable, I crafted my plan. I would not be caught due to an insignificant mistake. I had to make sure I was perfect. I could not afford another setback in my plan, not as she became closer to the age of maturity.

So I struck. It was so easy, too easy to ask the man to follow me outside. He didn’t even bother to let someone know that he was leaving with a stranger. It was just a matter of a quick apparition to one of the houses where a few of the less zealous members of our group were laying in wait, and the old man was mine for the taking. 

He was far too easy to break. I had barely gotten the first slicing charm across his leg, mere centimeters from his femoral artery before the dancer was singing like a drunken dwarf. He had no special access to the Manor and was only able to enter the property with the Malfoy brat by his side. He did not know if they had a floo connection to any other locations as that information was not even given to the Ministry.

So the brat had kept up the tradition of greasing pockets in the Ministry to get what he wanted. At least his father managed to teach him something. 

I was pleased to note that the dance master only refused to talk about one topic: Zowena. It was admirable, really it was, how much he wanted to protect the young girl. He must have sensed her value, her worth, her power. How could he not? I bet that her delicious power practically leaked out of her. It begged to be molded, handled, and touched. It would be impossible not to notice. Not to be drawn in by its call.

The man was shaking, but he stood firm, refusing to disclose information about the girl. It was tantalizing, how he tried to fight me. I started with my modified vanishing charm, on the site of the first slicing charm. His flesh and muscle melted away, exposing the bone underneath. Blood gushed from the wound, drenching the air in the sickly sweet scent of iron and piss.

The man screamed in agony, his brows furrowed together. His breathing became deep and labored as he tried to fight through the pain. I could feel the light in his eyes getting dimmer with each heartbeat, as more and more blood drained out of the wound. His skin paled, and I could barely contain my excitement. My cock sprang to life at the sight of him giving up hope. It seeped out of him in waves.

I love when they break. That delicious moment when every shred of self-control, of pride, of self-worth, shatters irreparably. That moment when they become wholly and truly mine to command and control. The thought of that breaking alone can send me over the edge, chasing my own release. 

He broke so easily. It didn’t take very long, yet I still moved on to the next leg, giving it the same attention he first received. Another scream wrenched itself free from his throat and he started sobbing in earnest.

“I-I-I’ll tell you . . . p-p-puh-please. N-no more.”

The man was blubbering, barely able to string together a sentence. Then came the fun part. After I forced a few blood-replenishing potions down his throat, ensuring that he wouldn’t die from the blood loss he was suffering from, I got my questions.

So it was true that the girl was extraordinary. She apparently learned new things very quickly and seemed wise beyond her years. The stupid instructor had never witnessed her magic at work, likely by design. The Malfoy brat was always a secretive one.

It was clear the man had told me all that he knew. He was still sobbing, his chest rising and falling rapidly with labored breaths, while my cock strained in time. He was well and truly broken, just how I liked them. 

From thin air, I conjured my favorite knife. It was an old tool but looked as new as the day I purchased it. The silver metal, honed to a fine point that could slice through nearly anything, sparkled in the dim lighting of the rusted old house we were occupying. The handle, a bit more worn, of dark oak wood bound in leather, fit perfectly in my hand.

Pycell’s eyes widened at the sight of the blade. No coherent words were leaving his mouth, but the message was clear. Somehow, they all think that once they beg, I will change my mind. That the act of debasing themselves so thoroughly will somehow endear them to me. Like I am some sort of merciful being. But I have no mercy, not when it is so much more entertaining to watch the life leave their bodies.

I levitated his emaciated and bloodless body out of the chair to the floor, keeping his limbs pinned, but allowing him to squirm. It always makes things more interesting when they try to fight, one last little bit. 

I brought the knife to his abdomen slowly, with clear intent and purpose, keeping the blade at his eye level so he could watch as I plunged it deep into his stomach. His scream was guttural and my cock strained against my zipper, fighting to be freed. I would take care of it later after this job was done.

One quick slice opened him up from one hip bone to the other. The skin pulled apart deliciously, baring his innermost organs to me. The shades of pinks, purples, and reds were a welcome sight. He was still twitching, still thrashing, as I started to dig out each organ, one by one. I started with the least important. A little green ball that some books called the gallbladder first, followed by the bean-shaped kidneys from the back of the body. With each organ pulled out, the twitches lessened, and the blood flow slowed. When I ripped a large portion of the liver out of his body, I stared into his eyes, wanting to be the last thing he saw. I watched, gleefully as the man went from pain clouding his every feature to completely unseeing.

I put everything back in the man. It would be in poor taste to leave parts of him in the house to be found. I was not that careless. But I did have one final touch that I couldn’t help but add. 

That stupid boy had been parading her about in society, taking her to balls, introducing her to all manners of people. He likely did not even know what stirred underneath her skin. Despite her entrance into society, he was never reckless. No, he was still overly cautious, yet still unburdened by true fear. Today, that would change.

My knife inched upwards and the words found themselves across the man’s chest as if drawn by my subconscious. 

I’m coming for her

The words were simple and the lackeys at the Ministry would never guess their meaning, but he would. 

That’s how I found myself on a rocky outcropping, a few miles away from the dump site, watching as various Ministry personnel rushed to contain the brutal scene I had laid out for them. 

I watched as he arrived, with that Mudblood bitch in tow. An interesting development to note. One that would be exploited at the soonest possible convenience. He didn’t even bother to catch the surrounding area. The daft bimbo likely assumed that the other inept Ministry employees did a proper scan of the area. 

I watched the bubble for hours, waiting for him to leave, but he never did. The Mudblood did though, with the son-of-a-bitch that destroyed the Dark Lord, hours after they had arrived. They spoke to one another before disapparating.

Malfoy must have apparated from inside the charm. No matter, I would certainly learn of his reaction soon enough. Until then, there were always more revels to plan, more acolytes to collect, and more progress checks I needed to perform.

I left the site, giddy filling me up at imagined images of Malfoy telling his daughter about her precious dance teacher. Of her terror at the promise carved into his chest, right where his heart should be. 

I’m coming for you. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but I will come for you. And when I do, there will be no one to save you.

Chapter Text

Zowena

December 12, 2009

My hand is starting to cramp from writing so much, but Uncle Theo gave me a time limit and there is just so much to write. I mean some of the questions were super easy and only needed one-word answers, but he also had a bunch of questions that were complicated. I don’t want to disappoint him with a half-hearted answer that doesn’t encompass all of the things that we talked about.

The sound of tearing paper echoes through the otherwise silent room and I pause my frantic writing. Crap! I tore through the paper.

Uncle Theo is in the corner of the training room, smiling gently down at me. He notices my gaze on him and his mouth tightens, just a little. He ducks his head back toward my paper and waves his wand in the area displaying the time I have left to finish the test.

Only ten more minutes.

I turn my attention back to the questions before me. At least this next one is easy. I could probably answer it in my sleep.

Your patient is suffering from extreme blood loss due to a large laceration. What is the treatment plan?

For a second, just a small second, an image flashes through my mind. The picture of a rug, long since destroyed, covered in blood. Of a blanket soaked through with red liquid. Of Dad falling onto the ground before me, limp and pale.

I take a deep breath and focus on the walls in my mind. Focus on locking that memory away behind the thick walls of the Manor. Then I start to write.

The first thing that you should do is find the source of the bleeding. This step is incredibly important as it is the only way you will be able to properly diagnose the cause of the laceration. Make note of any irregularities around the torn skin and how deep the laceration seems to go into the body. Also, make note of the area on the body where the laceration appears. There are some areas of the body which are more prone to bleeding over others. Once you have diagnosed the source and cause of the bleeding, try to stop the flow with anything you have available. If you have large enough bandages or other absorbent clothes, tie them around the wound and bind it tight. The tighter you can bind the bandages to the wound, the better because the pressure can stop some of the bleedings on its own. Finally, you should find blood-replenishing potions. These should be given to the patient at regular intervals, but only once their bleeding has slowed, so they aren’t producing blood only to lose it rather soon.

There are a few more questions, each requiring a longer explanation, but I manage to finish the whole exam before Uncle Theo stands up from his perch and shouts, “Time!” He wanders over and takes the paper from my awaiting hands, walking back over to his spot to look it over.

I want to follow him and see what he is marking, but the last time I did that, he shot stinging hexes at me until I backed up enough that I couldn’t see what he was marking. So I stay sitting in my spot on the soft training floor. I have to resist the urge to bite my fingernails nervously. Aunt Pans would be furious if she caught me doing that. Ladies aren’t supposed to bite their fingernails. It would ruin their nail beds and make them grow less. I end up having to sit on my hands to keep from engaging in my worst habit.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take Uncle Theo long to look over my answers. He comes back to me, holding the paper in his hands away from me, still not allowing me to see how I did. He had a very serious expression as he stares down at me from his full height. I fight to keep my own expression bored. My aunts and uncles always tell me not to let people know when I am stressed or worried about something. I hope that I am pulling off my unaffected look well, though Uncle Theo can probably see right through it. He always does.

Training with Uncle Theo is a weird thing. When he and I just spend time together, just us or with the rest of the family, he is goofy and sarcastic. We make stupid jokes that get us in trouble with Aunt Pans. He just gets me. He knows when I want to laugh and when I need to cry. He never makes me feel like I’ve failed or like I’m too young for something. He tells me everything straight, with no sugar coating, but he also makes the serious things fun. He’s the person I go to with all my secrets, even the ones I won’t tell Dad about.

When we train together, he becomes a whole different person. He is strict and demanding. He keeps me on my toes and makes sure that I am perfect, even when I am struggling with a skill or remembering the proper potions. He forces me to focus and be serious about my training. It’s weird but nice. I always learn a lot, which is good since Dad keeps getting sent out on more and more raids. Not the mention the whole deal with Dolohov. A shudder wracks my body at the thought of him. 

Uncle Theo clears his throat. I was definitely staring off into space again. That’s not good cause right now, he is in teacher mode, so no smiles and jokes here. His face is a little drawn like I did something wrong. I hate that face. It is the worst feeling . . . well, the second worst feeling in the whole world, disappointing him.

“Well, Zoe, how do you think you did?” It was an exam about the use of potions in healing. Pre-made potions, of course, since I can’t brew anything on my own yet. There were some tricky questions, but I have been studying non-stop ever since he told me we were going to have an exam on what we went over these last few months, so I think I did well.

I keep my chin raised, pretending to be confident even though I don’t feel like it. “I think I did very well.”

Uncle Theo stares down at me, that harsh look on his face for a few more seconds before he breaks into a grin and hands me the paper. In bright red at the top of my paper is one letter, an O.

I jump up from where I was sitting and throw myself at Uncle Theo, who catches me and spins me around in a big hug. He laughs a little by my ear and says, as he starts to set me down, “I’m so proud of you, little love!”

Before my feet actually touch the floor, he stops his arms. He ends up holding me just above the ground, squeezing me tightly, and I wriggle, pretending to try and escape. “Uncle Theeee-oooooo.” I whine. He gives me another sharp squeeze that sends up both into a fit of giggles.

He puts me down and we both lay down on the floor, on our stomachs, with my paper spread out in front of us.

“Did you have any questions about what I asked you, Zoe?” There is teacher Theo again. But it’s alright. He is helping me learn, and I need to know this stuff so I can keep Dad safe.

I smile at him. “Not really. We talked about a lot of this. I just really want to start learning some more magic.”

He reaches over and ruffles my hair. It probably looks horrendous right now. I’ll definitely have to have Dad help me fix it later before we have dinner tonight. “I know you do, little love. Soon. Your birthday is coming up, which means you’ll get your wand and then we can start to work on some of the easier spells.”

“That’s if Dad even lets me go out to get a wand,” I grumble under my breath.

At that, Uncle Theo rolls over and sits up. He stares down at me, concern in his eyes. “Zoe, you know why your Dad has been more strict the last few months with security. It’s not safe.”

I sit up, matching him as best I can, even though he’s still way taller than me. “It’s never safe, Uncle Theo. Dad had just started letting me go out, taking me places, and now I’m stuck here again. I know he wants me to be safe, and I know that Dolohov is dangerous, but I hate being locked up all the time. I love the Manor, I really do, but it’s just a really pretty cage.”

“I know, sweetheart. We all do. You just need to give your Dad some time to do his job. You know that he’s working especially hard right now, so he can fix this for you.”

I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “I know he is. I just . . . Never mind. Can we just forget I said anything?”

Uncle Theo doesn’t miss a beat. “You just what?”

I stare up at him incredulously, begging him with my eyes to drop the subject. He meets my stare with his own equally stubborn gaze. I really don’t want to tell anyone. What if Dad hears about it? He’d be so upset. But it’s Uncle Theo. He always keeps my secrets. It’s why he’s my favorite, though I’ll never admit it.

“Come on, little love. Talk to me. It’s better than keeping it all in.”

“Fine. But only because you are giving me bowtruckle eyes.” I try to give him a stare like the ones that Aunt Pans always gives him, but he just laughs and makes a hand motion for me to continue.

“I love you, and the Zabini’s, and all the Baby Snakes. I even like most of the Potters. I just don’t understand why Dad gets to choose who we see and when we see them. It’s like he is hiding me away again. But I don’t get it because we have been training and practicing and we have so many plans to keep me safe. I guess I just worry that . . . is he ashamed of me?”

Uncle Theo is by my side in a heartbeat, wrapping me up in a tight hug so I’m flush against his chest. His right hand comes around the back of my head to stroke my hair, likely taming some of the wayward strands from his earlier ruffling. “Don’t you ever think that for one second, Zoe!”

My voice is a little muffled since I’m against his chest, but I force out the words. “What am I supposed to think? Dolohov was still out there when he started to let me go and see other people. What makes it any different now?”

Uncle Theo pulls away just enough to look at me. “I’ve known your Dad since we were Dahlia and Caspian’s age, so believe me when I say that the thing in his life that he is the proudest of is you, Zoe. I also know and have seen, your Dad lose a lot of things that he cared about, over and over again. He is not, and has never been ashamed of you. What he has been, is terrified to lose you and he will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

My voice is small, almost weak. “Are you sure?”

“Positive, little love.” He gives me another big hug and then stands up, pulling me to my feet.

“Don’t tell Dad about this, please? He would freak out if he knew I was worried.”

Uncle Theo smiles at me. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Zoe. I pinky promise.”

We both curve our pinky fingers together and then Uncle Theo moves to one side of the room, where a modified Muggle radio, like the one in our kitchen, sits. “Now, enough of that awful sad talk. I’m in the mood for some dancing.”

He turns the stereo on to his favorite song, I Just Can't Wait to be King, takes my hands in his, and starts leading me around the training room in the most awful dance ever. His arms are sloppy, his footwork is nowhere near the correct steps, and his core is super loose. I sniffle a little at the thought of the look of horror that would’ve crossed Master Pycell’s face if he had seen the two of us.

Uncle Theo notices my noise and puts his hand under my chin so I am looking up at him. “Bad things happen, Zoe. We can’t change them, but we can find the good moments. Your dad said that you haven’t danced since you found out about Master Pycell, but I think we both know that he would not have wanted you to give up something that you loved. It’s okay to be sad, but it’s not okay to stop living. So, we are going to dance until you are smiling and then we are going to go out and rescue your Aunt from the rest of the Notts. Sound like a plan?”

I nod and he waves his hand, increasing the volume. Song after song plays, each one a little easier than the last until my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, both at Uncle Theo’s crazy antics as he pantomimed the satyr from Hercules and Lumiere, the candelabra from Beauty and the Beast, and at the feeling of floating that I always seem to get when I dance. I still can’t help but think about Master Pycell, but Uncle Theo is right. He would’ve been so mad at me if he knew that I stopped dancing. He used to call me his best student. Plus, I missed getting to spin around like a princess, even if it is just to be silly.

Uncle Theo turns off the music and we both step out of the training room, Uncle Theo waving his wand in an intricate pattern to reset the wards around the room. We both make our way down the halls, toward the sitting room, which is where we left the rest of the Nott’s who were supposedly helping Effie decorate the Manor for Christmas. 

The Nott Manor had been decorated for weeks, and so had the Zabini Estate, with the help of Mopsy and Turm, but Dad and I had been putting off decorating, much to Effie’s disappointment. Truthfully, I didn’t really feel like celebrating. Not when Dad was so stressed all the time and when I was, well, locked away. But Aunt Lu had come over a few nights ago to drop off a book that I had brought over with me earlier that day and left in Thea’s room and decided that the Manor could not go without any sort of decoration for the holidays.

I’m not even a little surprised to find an explosion of blue, green, and silver when Uncle Theo and I walk into the sitting room. Thea looks like she has mostly escaped the chaos and is curled up on one of the settees, a book by Newt Scamander balanced on her knee, her hands occupied by blue construction paper that she is cutting into the shape of something that looks vaguely like a unicorn. 

The twins are, without a doubt, the cause of the craziness overtaking the room. Lia has what is likely an entire container full of glitter in her hair, making it shine in the lights around the room. There are bits of construction paper of various colors covering her black skirt and her hands are clearly sticky with glue. Cas is slightly less messy but still did not manage to escape Lia’s reign of terror. There is a large streak of glitter on his shirt and pieces of construction paper sticking up from weird angles all over him. There is even a large chunk of green paper in his hair, though I don’t think he has noticed it yet. 

Aunt Lu is sitting in the middle of the room, completely unconcerned with the mess around her. From her wand, little strings of fairy lights are appearing, immediately going to hang around the room. Where they land, it looks like icicles have grown out of the ceiling, a rather elegant look for the room whose bottom half has descended into chaos. There are garlands of construction paper creatures scattered around the room, yet none of them have been hung up. 

Effie is in the far corner, setting up a small Christmas tree, decorated with ornately carved ornaments in varying shades of blue and silver. There is a delicate star on the top of the tree, something Dad had seen in a few Muggle movies we watched and thought looked cool, with a shining crystal in the center that reflects the lights that Aunt Lu put up. Frankly, if it wasn’t for the destruction in the center of the floor, the sitting room looks like a room fit for a queen.

It doesn’t take long for the previously occupied twins to spy on me in the doorway. Both of them are running at me in a flash, the projects in their hands totally forgotten. I don’t suppose I will ever get used to their enthusiasm, especially Cas’ since he is so quiet, allowing his sister to speak for him.

“Zoooooeeeeee, guess what?! Mum helped me cut out some amnimals for hanging. Wanna see?” She pulls on my dress the whole time she speaks and takes my hand when she is finished with her sentence. I have to fight to keep the grimace off my face at the thought of how much glue she is definitely getting all over my clothes. Cas, not missing a thing, takes my other hand and they both lead me straight into the depths of glitter and paper. He, at least, is devoid of the sticky substance. 

Aunt Lu notices me then, or at least says something to me then. “How did your lesson go, darling? Some of your nargles have disappeared, but you still have an infestation. Is there something I can do?”

“No thanks, Aunt Lu. I still have the smell of burning rosemary in my nose from the last time you tried to get rid of my nargles. I’ll just keep doing whatever I did today to make them leave again later.”

Her eyes twinkle at my suggestion and she nods approvingly. I turn around to face the twins. “So, you guys were going to show me your artwork?”

They both proudly hold up a line of vague shapes that are supposed to be some sort of holiday creature. I smile gently, knowing that these decorations would not be good things to hang in the formal sitting room, not if Dad ever allows anyone back in the Manor. I think that Nana Cissa would appear on site just to yell at him if Effie didn’t get to him first. But an idea comes to mind.

“You know what? I think I have the perfect place to put those. Do you guys want to come and hang them up in a special spot?” Both of the twins jump up and down, holding onto each other. Lia's screeches about her artwork is special. Even Thea puts down the book and comes over to me, asking if she can hang hers in that special place as well.

I really am a sucker for my cousins. I don’t think they know how much they could ask me for. Effie says it's because I don’t play with anyone else my age, but they are more than just my family. I know that the adults appreciate it when I play with all of them, distracting them for a few hours. Sometimes they think that it bothers me, but it doesn’t. I think it’s easy to play with them. They all listen to me, most of the time, and I know what they like. I’d do anything to make them smile, and my idea for their artwork should make them smile and make Dad laugh if it works. Plus, if all else fails, I can just tell them to pull out their dragons and threaten them with removal from the dragon club if they misbehave, since I’m the one that invented the dragon club. All that’s to say that my cousins are my whole world. 

“Uncle Theo, Aunt Lu, can you guys come with us? I want to make sure that their decorations won’t fall down.” Both adults stand up and follow us as I lead everyone upstairs to the hallway lined with countless old Malfoy portraits. 

Uncle Theo realizes my idea before I say it out loud. He has a twinkle in his eye and he winks at me, gesturing for me to go ahead. I look at the three Nott’s beside me. “How about we hang them up above these pictures? I know that all my old great-grandparents would love some holiday cheer.”

Uncle Theo tries and fails, to stifle a laugh. He must know how awful they are when they aren’t silenced. Actually, now that I think about it, Uncle Theo helped Dad silence them all. Even Aunt Lu has a different grin on her face, something more malicious than her normal unbothered look. 

Lia looks so excited she could burst. She frantically waves her masterpiece in the air. “Me fiwst! Me fiwst!”

“Now, is that how a lady asks for something to be done?” I chastise.

Thea pipes in, “No, a Lady is quiet but forceful when she needs to be.” Her answer is straight out of the etiquette book that I know Aunt Pans had her read. Since it’s the same book she made me read when I was Thea’s age.

“Thea is totally right. If you ask nicely, I will put your art up first, but only if you ask like a proper lady.”

Thea and Lia both nod seriously and Lia takes a big breath in. “Pwease put me up fiwst.”

“Of course, Lia. I would love to.” I exclaim and I drop down to scoop the 2-year-old into my arms. It’s a little awkward because she is getting so big, but I still do it, giving her extra height to place her paper animal on top of Abraxas Malfoy. The man in the portrait stares at the paper like his gaze alone could set it on fire if he tried hard enough.

There is a tap on my leg and I look down to find Cas looking at me with pleading eyes. “Me, next, Zoe?”

“Alright, buddy. You next.” I set Lia down and Cas doesn’t waste any time pulling himself into my arms. He hangs his garland over Nicholas II, a few greats removed from Abraxas, but no less cranky.

I look over to see Uncle Theo hoisting Thea up to another portrait to hang hers, while all the portraits scowl at us for the intrusion. A cruel sort of smile twists my lips, but I don’t care. They are rude and it’s funny to watch them squirm. I kind of wish that we had more of these so we could put one above each and every one of their stuffy old portraits, just to test the limits of the silencing charms. 

Once the decorations are up Lia, Cas, and Thea practically pull me into the library to read with them. We have been reading a story about a lonely dragon who falls in love with a princess from far away, so he kidnaps her and forces her to live in his cave. It’s probably not the best story for 2 year olds, but Aunt Lu and Uncle Theo don’t care, so I keep reading it. 

I don’t know how my reading skills became in such high demand with the Baby Snakes. At first, it was about the only way I could play with Thea and Luc since they were so little and I didn’t really know that you had to be careful with babies. But they still loved it as they got older, so I kept doing it, adding in all the younger Snakes once they were born. Now, there is rarely a time when the Baby Snakes and I spend time together that doesn’t end in us reading some sort of book.

Thea says I’m a good reader because I do voices for the characters. I just think she likes the fact that she can sit down and relax instead of having to contend with Lia and Luc for attention.

Uncle Theo blows a kiss my way and saunters out of the room, Aunt Lu close behind. The twins pull themselves up onto the couch next to me and snuggle into my sides, while Thea jumps up into an armchair across from me, grabbing a blanket to cover her legs. That’s how Dad ends up finding us a few hours later, nearly finished with the whole dragon book. Both Lia and Cas have fallen asleep but Thea is barely hanging on, so I kept reading, hoping that she would fall asleep eventually. 

Dad must notice her eyes drooping because he doesn’t walk into the room any further, staying just inside the doorway until Thea finally shuts her eyes. He waves his head, gesturing in the direction that Uncle Theo and Aunt Lu went when they left. He disappears for just a little bit but reappears with both my aunt and uncle in tow. 

They both tenderly grab one of the twins, though Aunt Lu hands Cas off to Uncle Theo, so he is carrying both, while she goes over to grab Thea, shifting her a bit to properly carry her through the floo. Uncle Theo gives me a knowing look before he leaves the room and mouths, Don’t be too hard on him, little love before walking out of the room.

Dad and I both wait to say anything until we hear the whoosh from the flames, telling us that the Nott’s have gone back home. I can tell that Dad wants to tell me something, but I cut him off before he does. “Dad, I’m going crazy. I know that we need to be safe because of Dolohov. I know that you’re working hard to make sure that he is caught, but I’m losing my mind. Can we please just do something outside of the Manor?”

A surprised look passes Dad’s face, just for a second, but then his expression softens. “How long have you been waiting to tell me this?”

“Would you be mad if I said that I have been wanting to say something since July?” He chuckles a little and flops onto the sofa in a very undignified manner.

“No, sweetheart. I just don’t know why you waited this long to talk to me.” 

I look down at my feet. “Because I knew what you were going to say. It wasn’t safe and we needed to be careful.”

Dad sits up a little at that. “Zoe, you do understand how serious everything is right now, don’t you? It really is not safe for you to be out and about.”

I throw my hands down, my frustration rising with each breath. “I know that, Dad! I’ve been listening to you and Uncle Theo and Aunt Pans talk about it for months. But I am going crazy! We haven’t even gone to the Potter’s for dinner.”

“Zoe, if Dolohov is watching our movements, it’s not safe to keep to such a rigid schedule and the Manor is best suited to keep him out. You know this. We have to stay safe, I have to protect you!”

Now I’m screaming. I really shouldn’t be, but I don’t care. “But WE aren’t staying safe! You leave the Manor every single day for work. You go out and hunt him every single day. You leave for work and come home at almost the same time, even though it’s a pattern. You still get to leave, while I am stuck here, hiding away again. I thought this is why I was training with you. Why am I the only one that should be protected?”

Dad sits back against the couch again, his mouth open like a fish on land, gaping. His right-hand rests on the nasty tattoo, the Dark Mark, like it always does when he is nervous. His voice is quiet when he says, “Because you are better than me.”

I sit next to him, laying my head on his shoulder as I nestle into his side. “Not true.”

He huffs a small laugh and pulls me in tighter, his head landing on top of mine, his hand stroking down my side. “I’m trying, Zoe. I really am.”

“I know Dad.” I sigh. “Can we just figure something out so I’m not stuck here all the time? I promise I’ll stay with an adult, and I’ll work harder in my training. I just can’t keep hiding anymore.”

He pauses for a long while. “I know.”

Neither of us says a word, just leaning on each other. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is Dad whispering to me, “I love you.”

Chapter Text

James

December 14, 2009

Mom’s running around inside the house, yelling at anyone and anything in her path. She’s been screaming so loud since this morning that I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me she became a banshee last night. I’ve been hiding outside in the backyard since she woke me up this morning, yelling about how I needed to clean my room and how, no it is not acceptable to have my broom-cleaning kit on my desk for easy access.

I don’t understand why she’s so worried about the house looking spotless today. I mean, Dobby could totally clean the whole place in five minutes if they asked him to, but she wants it done the old-fashioned way. She’s usually not this crazy when we have people come over, but for some reason, she is super stressed about today.

I guess I can kinda understand why she is more nervous than usual. I mean, we haven’t had the Mafloys over for dinner in forever. Instead, we had to go over to their house. It was all big and shiny and fancy. I hate it!

But I bet that mom just wanted our house to look as clean as theirs does. I still don’t get how it’s possible to have such a big house and keep it that clean, even with a bunch of house elves. 

Normally when mom was freaking out about something, I’d go and find Dad. He could calm her down, or at least help us hide from her wrath. But he has spent all morning outside waving his wand around and making the house have a shimmering wall around it. It’s kinda like there is a bubble around the house, which is cool, but also super weird.

Albus somehow has managed to avoid mom and is hiding out in the library. His nose is probably in some dumb book that Zoewna told him to read about vampires. Or even worse . . . school stuff! 

At least Lily has stuck with me all day. She has been following me around the house, helping me do all the crazy chores that mom keeps giving me. I mean, honestly, whoever thought that all of the pillows needed to be fluffed a specific way. Plus, if she wants it done in a certain way, maybe she should just do it herself so I don’t screw it up.

So when she wasn’t looking, and I saw my opportunity, I bolted to the backyard, taking Lily with me. I told her that we were playing a game of hide and seek, so she wouldn’t stand next to me and talk super loud to let mom know where we were hiding. Though mom must have been really busy cause she hasn’t even come to look for us once.

Lily and I are sitting behind the big oak tree in the corner of the backyard. It has been a few minutes, so I lay down in the grass and stare up at the sky. We can’t move and risk losing our hiding spot, so if we are stuck here, I might as well make the most of it. Lily lays down too and starts babbling about seeing different shapes in the clouds. I’m not really paying attention. I’m thinking about tonight’s dinner.

Albus cornered me a few months ago and asked me why I don’t like Zowena. I wasn’t sure when he asked, but really I don’t like her. She’s fine, I guess. I just hate when she acts all high and mighty like she knows everything.

She’s always wearing fancy dresses and has her hair done up in these super weird knots. The only times her hair isn’t all scrunched up, it’s so long that she almost sits on it. It is too silky and shiny to even be real. I bet she uses a ton of spells and potions to make it look so nice. And then there is her need to always use the most perfect manners. She acts like we are about to meet the Queen all the time, which is silly because it’s just us. She never relaxes and she absolutely HATES having any sort of fun. It’s like she’s allergic to it.

Instead she just sits there all straight and tall and holds her forks with her pinky up. She sips from the glass and doesn’t gulp it down like normal people. Not to mention the fact that she is super particular about what she likes, which is so annoying. I mean, she won’t eat green beans, or most green vegetables except for celery, which is the worst green vegetable by far. It’s like she’s crazy. And she loves pumpkin juice but hates pumpkin cider.

But really, I don’t hate her. I just think that she needs to be reminded that she shouldn’t be a princess all the time because it’s rude. Albus disagrees with me. He says that I pick on her way too much at our dinners, but besides that one time, I never pick on her. And that one time was an accident. 

That was a bad dinner. Albus wouldn’t talk to me for almost two weeks afterward because he said that I was so mean. Even mom and dad were angry because I was rude to Zowena. I had apologized for a ton of times, though and Zowena kept saying that she just wanted to forget about it. I definitely don’t bring it up anymore.

She was really quiet at the couple of dinners we had after that, so I tried to be nicer and we were pretty chill for a few months. Then she started to get her spark back and she told me that I ate soup like a troll, so I told her that her hair was wound up too tight, and it was suffocating her brain. Back to our usual tricks.

There’s a tug on my shirt sleeve and I open my eyes to find Lily standing over me. “Jay, I’m tired. Can we go back inside now?”

She gives me her best “please give me what I want” stare, but I’m practically immune since I live with her. It works better on dad anyways. 

“Not yet. If we move now, mom’s gonna find us and make us clean more.”

She stamps her foot and screams, “BUT I WANT TO GO PLAY WITH MY DOLLS!”

Her hair starts sparking and she looks like she is about to lose control. I really don’t need her to have any accidental magic right now. The last time that happened, she lit the living room curtains on fire. Mom was so mad. Plus it would give away our location.

“JAMES, LILY, COME INSIDE! I NEED YOUR HELP SETTING THE TABLE!” Mom yells from the kitchen window. Crap! She must have heard Lily yelling. I give Lily a sneer and stand up.

She bats her hand against my leg. “You had dirt, Jay.” She says with a sickly sweet voice, usually the voice that accompanies her best stares. I just roll my eyes. Who cares about a little dirt? I have to change before dinner anyway, so why would it matter if these clothes get a little bit dirtier? I certainly don’t care. Mom will wash them later.

It takes almost a half hour to get the table set the way that mom wants it and then she sends me straight upstairs to shower and get changed for dinner. I didn’t even get to fly for 5 minutes today. It’s totally unfair. This is one of the worst days ever. No flying, no fun, and now I’m gonna have to deal with Little Miss Perfect. 

My shower is fast and I throw on some jeans and a t-shirt for my favorite Quidditch team, my mom’s team, the Holyhead Harpies. I smirk at myself in the mirror. Oh, I’m definitely going to rile her up with my clothes. She is always going on and on about how I should dress up more, but I don’t care. This is my house, so she can deal with it, especially since I didn’t get to do anything that I wanted to do.

Predictably, Albus is all dressed up in slacks and a button-down shirt. He is such a pushover sometimes. I mean, Zowena could tell him to follow her off a cliff and he’d probably do it. I have told him so many times that he shouldn’t be so easily led, but he doesn’t listen. He actually listens to her more than he listens to me, which is not how that’s supposed to work. I’m his older brother, so I should be the one that he follows. Not her.

Mom is still fussing in the kitchen so she doesn’t immediately see my outfit. Dad is still nowhere to be found, probably out in the front yard still messing with the bubble. Lily is running around the kitchen, trying to avoid mom’s feet, in a blue dress with a white collar and a big bow on the back. 

When mom finally stands still for a second, her gaze shifts over to Albus and me. She notices my clothes right away and sighs. “James dear, could you at least try to act like this is a formal event?”

“Why? We have dinner with them every month and I’m comfortable. I don’t want to change.” I cross my arms and try to look intimidating. It doesn’t really work cause mom can be scary when she is mad, but she throws her hands up and mutters something about not having enough time to deal with me. I’m not exactly sure what she means, but I’m not going to push my luck, so I run into the dining room and pick my spot. I set my mini Chinese Fireball, Lola, that I got from Uncle George on the table next to my plate. She blows a puff of smoke and curls up into a ball, falling asleep.

In the time it takes for me to walk back into the living room, mom has arranged Lily and Albus and dad has come back inside, no longer sweaty and tired like he was when he was messing with the bubble. The fireplace flashes green before I really have a chance to join them and the Malfoys are stepping out into our home.

I like Mr. Malfoy. He’s cool and super tall. He has a ton of fun stories about work and he is the only one that doesn’t seem scared of mom, which is pretty impressive if you ask me. He always wears these dark suits and dad says that it makes him look like a vampire. I think it’s funny.

He steps out first, but she is right behind him, close on his heels like always. Albus stands up and walks (basically runs) over to her and gives her a big hug. He grabs her wrist and moves to pull her toward the library. “Hi, Zoe. I missed you playing over here so much. Wanna come and see our new books in the library?”

“Sure Al, as long as your Mum says that we can. Mrs. Potter, is it alright if we go and look at the books for a few minutes before dinner?” She fixes the collar on his shirt, tucking it down like she knows how to wear boy’s shirts. It looks really silly, but then she holds Albus’ hand and just stands there. I mean, if you want to go to the library, just start going there and don’t stop until an adult stops you. If you were doing something wrong, they would speak up. But the princess can’t do anything until she has permission from someone, like the good little girl she is. Merlin is the worst.

Mom gushes, “Of course, you can. But don’t be too long. Dinner is ready whenever we are.” 

Albus doesn’t wait any longer and he starts to pull her out of the room, but she manages to bow before she leaves. So stuck up.

Dad walks over and pats Mr. Malfoy on the back. “Glad you were willing to come back over. Albus has been dying to show her his new organizational system.”

“Alphabetical, or by topic?” Mr. Malfoy says and huffs a laugh.

“You know, at this point, I really don’t know. If I need a book, I just summon it.” Dad and Mr. Malfoy look at each other and laugh together. 

Lily pulls on mom’s dress sleeve, just like she did with my shirt earlier. “Mooooom, can we start eating? I’m really hungry.”

Mom looks at Mr. Malfoy and he smiles, “I’ll go get the two of them and bring them down. Feel free to start without us, we won’t be long.” Then he walks out of the room toward the library. 

Dad sighs, really loud like he had been holding it in all day. He probably has, since he spent so much time messing around in the front yard. If he still looks stressed after dinner, I’ll ask him about it, but I’m super hungry and dinner smells amazing. That was probably the worst part about mom making us help all day. We had to stand around and smell the food, but we couldn’t eat any.

Lola is still by my plate at the table. Score! Now I won’t get stuck next to the princess all night. I run back up to my room really fast, so I can grab a small blanket for Lola to lie on while she is at the table. I don’t want her to be uncomfy. I’m smiling, cause my day has gotten better, or it will when I get to eat, but when I come back into the room, my smile fades.

She is sitting next to my seat. Why is she sitting next to my seat? Didn’t anybody see Lola saving my place for me? Who’s idea was it to make her sit next to me again? This is so dumb.

I try not to stomp over to the table, but I frown at both mom and dad. They knew where I was sitting, the traitors. Albus has the nerve to laugh at me from his spot on the other side of Zowena. Mr. Malfoy isn’t saying anything, so I sit down.

Fine. If she isn’t going to move, and no one is going to make her sit on the other side of the table, then they can’t be mad at me when I bother her during dinner. It’s kinda their fault anyways for making us sit together. 

“The kids have missed having you over the last few months,” Dad says while mom waves her wand and the food appears on the table in front of us. I start to reach for a serving fork, but she glares at me with her scary eyes, so I let go of the utensil and sit back.

This sucks. 

The princess responds, all high and mighty like usual. “We missed coming over here just as much Auror Potter. Thank you so much for inviting us back. I know that the last few months have been a bit ridiculous, to say the least.”

I roll my eyes. She’s always so proper. I mean, who talks like that? She sounds like Lady, but she isn’t. She is just a kid and she should act like one. It’s just plain weird that she acts fancy all the time.

I don’t try to, honestly, but a snort comes out of me. Normally, she would turn and face me, turning bright red, and demanding that I tell her what I meant by that noise, but today she doesn’t even blink at the noise. 

The whole rest of the table is quiet for a minute. What is wrong with her? She still isn’t looking at me. Which, of course, I definitely don’t want her to do. But  I want to know why she won’t. Did something happen to her? Is someone pretending to be her?

I raise my finger up and poke her arm. She jumps a little and, finally, turns to face me, though her face isn’t red yet. “Can I help you, James?”

Her voice is all icy. She almost sounds like Aunt Dromeda when she is mad at Teddy. She doesn’t yell, but it’s just as scary as when mom is screaming loud enough for the neighbors to hear through our silencing charms. Albus is frantically waving his head back and forth like he thinks I’m going to do something super bad. But I won’t. I’m just going to rile her up a bit. She is too proper tonight for her own good.

“Oh, nothing princess. Just trying to figure out who you are and what you’ve done with Zo-wen-ahh.” I take my time saying her name. She almost always gets angry when I do that. It makes her eyes light up and she turns all red and she looks really pretty . . . 

Wait, what?! No, I mean, she looks really silly when she gets all mad. Yeah, that’s what I meant. Silly. 

She huffs and tosses her hair over one shoulder. “I haven’t done anything, you nitwit. What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

“That’s not bad, but I still think you can do better, princess.”

“Better at what, James?” Ooooh, it’s working now. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are starting to sparkle. I bet just one more thing and I’ll push her right over the edge. Then we can really have some fun.

“Better at being the real Zowena. I mean, if you really were Zowena, you would have already told me off for not putting a napkin on my lap when I sat down, or you would have told me that it was inappropriate to have a pet at the table. So, what’ll it be, princess?”

She smirks at me now, like a half smile that makes her look like Aunt Mione’s cat. “That’s because it is incredibly rude to - “ She stops talking and takes a breath in. Her cheeks turn a little less pink, which makes me mad. “I don’t want to fight tonight, James. Can we eat?”

I feel like a balloon when it runs out of air. That was no fun at all. I mean, she was kinda nice to me, which is not right. She is supposed to get mad at me and yell and scream and jump up from the table. I sink back into my chair and I am quiet for the rest of dinner. I don’t want to talk to her anymore, at least not right now.

After dinner, mom and dad kicked us all out of the living room, claiming that we should play with Zowena since she hadn’t been to our house in a while. I don’t get it. It’s not like she forgot where everything is. We have the same stuff and she probably has way more at her gigantic house anyways, but mom won’t even let me stay just to sit on the floor, so I go upstairs to my room and flop on my bed, after putting Lola in her bed.

Since the rest of the kids are all occupied, I grab my notebook and pencil and start to draw. I don’t know why, but I love drawing and I always have. I haven’t shown it to anybody except for Teddy. Albus and Lily would probably rip the pages of my book out and I don’t want them to destroy anything. And I don’t really want mom and dad knowing. They would probably make a big deal out of it if they knew, so I keep it hidden.

I’ve been working on drawing Lola, but she kept moving every time I wanted to try and pick her pose. Now she’s sleeping, though, so I can definitely sketch her and she won’t move, at least not for a few hours, but I’ll be done with all the lines by then.

Her wings are all spiky, which is not fun to draw, but I want to make sure that it looks cool so I can remember her forever since Uncle George said that she will probably die sometime in the next year. 

I don’t really worry about a couple of pages that fall out of my book while I am flipping through the pages to find my start on the dragon. I only got her head done yesterday, so I try to focus on her body. It’s a little hard because she is breathing deeply and her whole body moves each time she breathes, so I usually try to wait until she breathes out so her belly is low to her feet.

My pencil goes across the page pretty fast and soon I am lost in my own world. This is part of the reason that I love drawing because no one and nothing can interrupt me. It’s the best. I can just do whatever I want and I am always right. And there are never any little kids trying to steal my stuff.

“What are you doing?” My pencil stops moving at the sound of her voice. It’s not nearly the same swotty tone that she used earlier, but it is definitely Zowena. No one else sounds like she does.

I scramble to hide my notebook under my pillow before she can see what I am working on. Of all the people to know that I draw, she is the last person I would have told. I bet she can’t even keep a secret. She’ll probably tell everyone just to make me look bad. I don’t have to try to glare at her.

“Why are you in my room? Don’t you have more reading to do with the little kids?”

She doesn’t react to my questions. Instead, she just looks down at my floor. Why? I mean, it’s just plain carpet, it’s not like there is anything that is interesting down there. I follow her eyes, and I feel frozen on the spot. 

The two drawings that fell out earlier are some of my favorites, but there are the ones that I haven’t even shown Teddy. The first is the one that I did of mom when I was supposed to be doing arithmetic homework for school. She was so happy because I sat still for so long, but she didn’t know that I didn’t do a single bit of my homework that day. The other drawing is something that I couldn’t do in real time I saw it. I drew the gardens as I saw them when I flew over them. It took me forever because I kept finding new details each time I flew. 

Zowena walks into my room, closes my door behind her, and kneels down on the floor, picking up the picture of the gardens. She holds it in her hands as it could break at any moment. I want to rip it out of her hands, but I don’t want to destroy the picture because it took me so long. “Did . . . did you draw this yourself?”

The princess can stammer? That surprises me more than anything else. I’ve never heard her sound like she wasn’t sure of what she was saying. I barely manage to blurt out, “Yeah, but don’t tell anyone!”

She blinks at me and she doesn’t look like she did at dinner when she was talking to dad. She looks more like my age, which is weird. I don’t know how to act. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good, now get out of my room. It’s rude to come into people’s rooms when they don’t invite you.” She actually moves back at that. She isn’t fighting me like normal, but she isn’t just pretending that everything is okay either.

She holds her hands up in front of her face and backs up a little more. “I know. I . . . I just . . . your drawings are really good.”

Maybe I should have let her see more. There is this funny feeling in my chest that makes me sit up. “Why didn’t you get mad at dinner?”

“Why were you trying to make me mad at dinner?” She shoots back, some of her usual anger coming back into her voice. Finally!

“You’re more fun when you are mad.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am n- Ughh. This is just ridiculous. Why can’t we just be normal for once? It would make dinners so much easier. Then I could look at your drawings and not be nervous.” She says stamping her foot.

I had stood up and walked toward her, so now we are standing kinda close. “Because . . . I don’t really know, I guess. I just don’t like how you’re so fancy all the time.”

“And I don’t like how you are so un-mannered all the time.”

I step back and cross my arms. “So we both know what we don’t like. What do we do now, princess?”

She thinks for a minute. I notice that her hair has fallen out of whatever she had it twisted in. It’s super long and there are a few pieces in front of her face. Maybe I should move them out of the way, but then I would have to be really close to her. I don’t want to make it weird. 

“How about we make a truce?” She says, bending down to pick up the drawing of mom. 

“I’m listening,” I say, hesitating since she is now holding both of my drawings.

She sighs. “Maybe I can try to be less fancy, but you have to try to use more manners, please. Oh, and I won’t tell anyone about your drawings.”

Well, that sounds pretty good. I can probably try to be better, as long as she keeps my secret. But I can’t resist pushing her buttons at least one more time. It’s just so much fun. “Fine, princess. I can agree to those terms, but we have to seal the truce.”

“And how do you suggest we do that, James.” She rolls her eyes again, but it doesn’t bother me as much this time.

Well, if she’s going to let me make the suggestions, I might as well see just how far I can push her. “We should seal this the way that Teddy and I seal things.” 

She raises her eyebrows and I grin at her. I breathe in, collect my spit and spit into my palm. I hold it out in front of me then, and wait for her to protest. She looks down at my hand, her face screwed in disgust. Gotcha now, princess.

I bounce on my heels, expecting her to bat my hand away, but she just looks back at me and says, “I’m not spitting into my hand too.” Then she does the weirdest thing she has done all night.

She grabs my hand and shakes it firmly, not letting go until I do. We stand there for a minute and it is so weird. It usually takes her getting mad to make her eyes sparkle, but right now they are as bright as stars. And her mouth is pulled into a smile. With her hair all down and kinda messy, she looks so normal and so . . . so . . . 

She jumps away and wipes her hand on my shirt, smearing my spit all over. I just laugh at her and then she is laughing with me. Her hair is shining in the light and it makes her look like she is a faerie. 

She leaves my room, putting the pictures on my bed and I should fall asleep shortly after, but I can’t. All I keep thinking is that, well,

She is really pretty when she laughs.

CRAP! I can’t let Teddy know that, EVER!

Chapter Text

Draco

December 25, 2009

Her curls are splayed out on the pillow, threatening to engulf everything in their path. She is still asleep, as evident by her breathing which was still slow and even. Her lips are properly swollen from all the kisses we exchanged last night before finally succumbing to sleep. Though she is covered with my sheets, I can just barely make out the swells of her breasts, her nipples peeking through the thin fabric, though they are still hidden from sight. All that I can see is a tantalizing bit of smooth, bare skin.

I should let her rest, but I have to feel her again, taste her again, hold her, have her again. I shift, ever so slightly, and she rolls over, snuggling herself deep into my chest. Her skin on mine is electric, in every place where our bodies touch. The feeling of the connection is so heady that I have to shake my head to clear it, lest I start something before ensuring that she is comfortable. I won’t push, even if she clearly enjoyed herself last night.

I let my hand gently graze down her side, up and down her back stopping just before the curve of her arse. She moves once again, this time with more life than the first. Her groan at the prospect of leaving whatever dream she was enthralled in lets me know that she is awake, and I am free to play.

On my next pass up her side, my hand curves around her body, following a pre-ordained path as if she was guiding me there herself. My fingers just barely graze her breast and a breathy moan escapes her.

“Draco.”

It’s heaven, my name on her lips. I want nothing more than to hear that sound again, and again. Hearing her scream it loud for everyone to hear as I make her-

FUCK!

I’m jolted awake by a bony knee to my stomach. As my thoughts fade away, I’m left with a painful reminder of the subject of such a pleasant dream. If Theo decided this would be a funny joke, I will kill him. I was so close, and she was so perfect, and, dammit!

I have barely even opened my eyes, having kept them firmly closed during the assault that signified what is sure to be a very long day. All I can see are two blurry shapes, one bouncing up and down like those windup toys that the Weasley twins make. The other is at least stationary, but no less difficult to make out. I don’t have any trouble placing their voices though.

“IT’S CWISTMAS UNCLE DRAKE!!!! WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!”

I’m too frustrated to even find my niece’s speech impediment endearing. Now, at the very least, the two figures make sense. Wherever Dahlia goes, Caspian follows, though it was likely Dahlia’s knee that was the cause for my premature waking.

Zoe and I had come over to the Nott Manor for our family Christmas Eve dinner. Most years, we returned home, got ready at our own Manor in the morning for the Christmas festivities, and then flooed to whoever was hosting. The only notable exceptions were the few years that we hosted Christmas, and the Snakes all stayed at Malfoy Manor. Though the last time we hosted, Athena was less than a year old, and Luca was not quite as mobile as he is now, nor quite as messy. 

This year, though, Zoe practically begged me to stay the night at the Nott Manor, where all the celebrations were taking place this year. I didn’t think about getting a wake-up call from the twins, since Zoe and I have our own wing that we sleep in when, or if, we ever stay the night here. I shouldn’t have underestimated how excited the littlest Baby Snakes would get for Christmas, but it’s been so long since I was woken up this way, Zoe having outgrown this phase long ago.

My voice is still raspy from sleep, but I manage to choke out. “I’m awake, Dahlia. Where’s your Dad?”

A small hand, far more gentle than the knobbly knee to my gut earlier (Caspian’s then), pats my leg. I have a feeling that he would be pulling on my pant legs if I wasn’t covered by sheets up to my waist.

“Dad said we get to wake up sweepy Uncle Drake,” Dahlia answered, even though it was Caspian who was drawing my attention. Merlin, it would be a miracle if this boy ever did speak on his own, though the two of them were still young enough that it was just too adorable to point out.

I’m definitely going to kill Theo when I get up, though, for sending his kids into my bedroom. Pansy will likely find this endlessly hilarious and remind me that I pawned Zoe off on the rest of them several times when she woke at the ungodly hours of the morning.

But, right now I need to distract the little ones and get to the shower. I’m starting to ache, and that is something that I absolutely cannot take care of while there are children present. So, I summon all of my fatherly patience, though it is certainly in short supply at the moment. 

“Well, little Notts, what do you say we go downstairs to the kitchen and see if Mopsy can make us some hot chocolate?” At the very mention of the sweet drink, both children are off the bed and running around the room, yelping with glee. It may be the oldest trick in the book, but bribing children with sweets has been used since the dawn of time for one simple reason: it is always effective.

I smile at the two toe-heads and try my best to match the kind of tone that their mother might use with them when she is content, which is most of the time. “You two run along ahead of me, I have to finish up a few things here, and then I’ll join you.”

They barely even wait for me to finish speaking before they both burst out of the room, running down the hallway so forcefully that I can hear their footsteps, even as they hit the staircase at the far end of the hallway. I rub a hand over my face and force myself to get up and under the shower.

The water is frigid, chill-inducing, but right now I don’t have time to, well, enjoy myself, not when the terror twins could come back at any moment. Thankfully, the problem dissipates and I’m able to finish my cold shower without getting interrupted by anyone or anything. Despite the chill, I can still picture Hermione’s curly hair against my chest as if it were real and I have to lock the lingering remnants of the dream away behind a thick wall. This is going to be a very long day, indeed.

I don’t bother to dress up, not when Zoe somehow convinced Pansy years ago that Christmas was the only day that pajamas were acceptable attire for an event of any kind. It was probably the most interesting battle that the two of them had ever had, and it was the first real indicator that Zoe was going to be the best Slytherin in her year. I still remember that day like it was yesterday.

Pansy came down the stairs in her normal dress: a tasteful silver dress that fell about to her knees and a black robe that had Christmas detailing throughout the garment. Zoe was in stark opposition to her aunt, having refused to take off her “super special Christmas PJs” that I had bought her a few days ago. They were nothing crazy, just a cute little shirt that read “I’m the Cutest Reindeer” and featured a picture of Father Christmas’ sleigh, pulled by the four-legged creatures. The pants were garishly green and fluffy with those same reindeer scattered throughout the legs, sporadically flying around untethered.

Pansy started out very calm, as she always did when it came to her goddaughter. “Zoe, where is your lovely Christmas dress that we picked out?”

Blaise chuckled behind her, but said nothing and instead moved over to the pile of presents stacked underneath the Christmas tree in their sitting room, most of them bearing Zoe’s name. Theo and I tried to move back as subtly as possible, understanding that Zoe was about to meet the immovable object that was Pansy Zabini.

The only person that didn’t move away, in fact, was Luna who was still relatively new within the family and was likely unaware of just how far Pansy’s wrath could spread when she got going.

I had tried to convince Zoe to change, really I had, but she turned those pretty little doe eyes toward me and asked so nicely. I couldn’t deny her such a simple request, though I did at least warn my little three-year-old that her aunt would be upset. She didn’t seem bothered and skipped down the stairs to the sitting room, patiently waiting until everyone arrived before she even bothered to pick up a present.

Now, Zoe stood proud and tall (as tall as she could for her age) and met the disapproving gaze of her aunt. “But, I like my PJs. They are special for Christmas.”

“I know, sweetheart, but we have guests over, and Ladies do not wear their pajamas to greet guests.” Pansy chided, though her voice remained soft and sweet.

Zoe glanced around the room, taking note of all of the people here, then she did something I could have never predicted. “You’re right, Aunt Pans. A Lady should never wear their pajamas when they have guests over to their house.”

Pansy beamed at the girl, believing that she had won the argument. She stood up straight and held out her hand for Zoe to take, presumably to lead her upstairs. “Very good, Zoe. Now, let’s go get you changed.”

“But Aunt Pans,” Zoe said, her voice still quiet like she was accepting defeat, “this isn’t my house. And Aunt Lu isn’t a guest, so I guess I don’t need to change. Can we open presents now?”

Theo, Blaise, and I burst into deep belly laugh as Pansy gaped at the little girl like a fish, wide-eyed, and open-mouthed. Blaise composed himself first, quick enough to walk up to his wife and whisper something in her ear about getting beat by a three-year-old. For a small second, I worried that Pansy would be frustrated at my daughter, but she began beaming at Zoe, pulled out her wand, and transfigured her own dress into festive Christmas pajamas.

“That, my darling Zoe, is exactly right. Why aren’t the rest of you in pajamas?”

It was such a small moment, in the grand scheme of things, but it sparked a tradition that has yet to be disregarded. Zoe and I had picked out matching pajamas, though they were simple in their design. A striped shirt and single-color pants. Her shirt was green and white, with red pants, while mine was the opposite color scheme. They were garish and horrible, but they made us both laugh when we saw the ad for them in a catalog, so I immediately purchased them.

I cringe looking in the mirror at the wardrobe that looks just as ridiculous on me as it did in the ad, but it will make Zoe smile so I just puff out my chest, attempting to look dignified in any manner I can, and walk downstairs.

The rest of the group’s voices float through the hall, boisterous and happy. I can hear Theo laughing, the prick, and the clanging of toys, undoubtedly from the twins. The scene that I find when I reach the living room is nothing short of perfect.

All of the Baby Snakes brought their own dragons, lining them up in rainbow order behind Bruce as if the royal blue dragon was a general leading his troops into battle. The toys are neatly left next to the couch, waiting patiently for attention from their owners. Meanwhile, the Baby Snakes themselves are spread out around the room. Luca is hovering next to Dahlia while she does some sort of trick where she puts her hands on the ground in front of her and lifts up on her leg, claiming it is some sort of dance move. Caspian is sitting on the ground with his back against the armchair that is closest to his twin, watching both Dahlia and Luca as they trade dance moves back and forth.

Athena, unsurprisingly, is curled up under a large blanket, already with a book in her hand and a decorative mug that looks like a unicorn on the table beside her. Lila is huddled close to her mother, who is sitting delicately on the end of the long, leather couch, facing the Christmas tree, a mug of her own in her hands. Blaise and Theo are by the tree, rifling through the presents and sorting them into piles, joking about something that I can’t make out from this side of the room. Likely something inappropriate for the children if they are speaking so quietly. Luna is in the middle of the room, where a coffee table normally lives, though it has been rehomed for the day to make room for all the expanding members of our family, with fairies dancing around her.

But the part of the room that makes it all worth it is Zoe. Theo has some Christmas music playing on his enchanted radio and, while it may be background noise for the rest of the group, to Zoe it is a heartbeat. She is happily twirling and waltzing around the back of the room, expertly avoiding the children running around like little gnomes. Her long hair is completely unbound, not even a strand pulled back in her usual braids, and it flies around with each spin. The smile on her face is unrestrained, and for the first time in months, Zoe looks happy. Truly happy.

She stops spinning when she sees me standing in the doorway, but she doesn’t run over to me, at least not before Blaise and Theo do.

“Well look at that kids, Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to grace us with his presence. Did your prince come and give you a kiss, or do you need another one?” Theo says, puckering his lips in a dramatic imitation of a kiss. There is a chorus of giggles and disgusting noises from the Baby Snakes as I walk toward my ridiculous friend and move to punch him in the arm.

Theo slips away and I end up accidentally hitting Blaise, though it’s not totally accidental, since he was laughing at Theo’s comments too. Soon Blaise and Theo are both chasing me around the tree, as I try to dodge the frankly ridiculously large stack of presents. The kids are cheering us on, each child apparently rooting for one of us. Somehow, I managed to sway Luca and Dahlia to my side, which means that Caspian is also cheering for me, though he is far less vocal. Athena and Lila are both cheering on their fathers, but the real person I am looking to is Zoe, who seems to be cheering on her godfather. The traitor.

I manage to tackle Theo to the ground, but Blaise is right behind me and we end up in a wrestling match until Pansy shoots us all with minor stinging hexes. “Boys, are you going to behave, or do I need to ground you?”

I roll my eyes, but she hits me with another stinging hex and I mumble, “I’ll behave,” which earns me more giggles from the Baby Snakes.

Luna, without standing, captures the children’s attention with the magic word that works every day of the year, but especially on Christmas. “Shall we open presents?”

Soon, all the kids have put away whatever toys, books, or dishes they were holding and they are each eagerly running towards the stacks of gifts, meticulously separated so the kids just have to grab their own stack. The littlest of the Baby Snakes can’t grab very any presents on their own, so Zoe recruits Athena and Luca to help them get all of their packages next to their seats.

Like a well-trained unit, all six of the Baby Snakes sit down in unison, not a single one of them touching their presents, though Dahlia looks about ready to explode with anticipation and excitement. 

Pansy doesn’t make the poor girl wait too long. “Dahlia, are you ready to go?”