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Chapter Text

Hermione watched them give Malfoy the news.

She saw his already pale face turn chalky white as he raked a trembling hand through his hair, wild blonde spikes sticking up through his fingers as he grasped at it, shaking his head and insisting no, that couldn’t be right, that the Healers must be mistaken. 

She watched his chest heaving in his white button-down shirt as he began to panic, throwing down the robes he’d been clutching and rising from the blue plastic chair, demanding to be taken to his wife. 

He shook off the Healer’s comforting hand as they led him away from the waiting area and down the corridor to the room where Astoria’s body lay. 

Hermione watched him stride past the glass window of the operating theatre where she stood, his back ramrod straight, his face tight.

Draco Malfoy was the picture of a man in denial, unable to fully comprehend the terrible turn his night had taken - a night that should have been the happiest of his life. 

He had been away on business when his wife Astoria had gone into labour four weeks early, arriving at the hospital as soon as he could, expecting news of an outcome that was very different from the one he had received.

There was a heavy silence as the healers led Malfoy into the room next door. Hermione couldn’t see, but she knew Astoria’s chief Healer would be talking to him, explaining that there had been nothing anyone could do. 

He would tell him that they had exhausted all avenues, done everything they could think of to try and save Astoria's life, but that ultimately, her body had been too tired and they'd had no option but to let her go. 

She knew they would take care to reassure Malfoy that she hadn't been in any pain at the end. The Healers had made certain of it. 

Hermione had been there when Astoria Malfoy died - one of the Mediwitches on hand to monitor her unborn baby as they fought to keep Astoria’s heart beating, battling in vain as her fragile body gave in to the curse that had been poisoning her for years, the effects irrevocably exacerbated by her labour. 

They’d known it was a risky delivery - had scrambled a crash team ready to receive mother and baby when the emergency Floo call had come in. When they had realised how dire Astoria's situation actually was, the focus for Hermione and her team had immediately been to ensure the swift delivery of her baby girl, who had miraculously been carried to almost full term and had the best chance of survival of the two.

Hermione had been handed the tiny baby, stunned and pale after being delivered quickly via c-section and got to work massaging her heart, increasing her oxygen levels until she took in a deep, independent breath and filled with colour. Her little face had screwed up as she screamed the operating theatre down - the sound like music to the ears of all the medical professionals in the room. 

There was little evidence of the earlier chaos now, the detritus of the medical emergency all magically cleared away. The room was peaceful, the baby’s little snuffly breaths the only sound other than Hermione and her assistant Katie’s murmured observation spells.

Hermione leaned over the cot where the little girl lay, magically charmed to ensure she was just the right temperature and to inform Hermione if there were any changes to her breathing.

She was a tough little thing, Hermione thought - strong, despite how tiny she was. 

Astoria had done everything she could to ensure her baby was healthy, even as her own body had failed her. Hermione could see from her charts that she’d undergone copious amounts of prenatal tests, one of which confirmed that her blood curse had not been passed on to her baby. 

Draco Malfoy’s baby girl was perfectly healthy, and she was beautiful. Dainty and doll-like with delicate features like her mother, rosebud lips and clear grey eyes just like her father’s. 

Having just been fed, the baby was settled now, but Hermione’s heart still ached as she gazed down at her. 

Despite being born into a life where she would want for nothing materially, the little girl had no mother and a father who would now need to navigate his grief over his wife’s death on the very day he became a parent for the first time. 

It was around fifteen minutes later that a broken-looking Draco Malfoy was led away from the viewing room, his chest hitching, his shoulders rounded. His earlier stoicism was gone along with his ability to deny the truth of the situation. 

Hermione could see the shock etched on his face, his mind struggling to make the connection between what his future had been just hours earlier and what lay ahead of him now.

‘Are you going to get him?’ Katie asked, and Hermione nodded, although for the first time, she wished she could hand over the responsibility of her job to someone else. 

She took a deep breath and left the operating theatre, heading into the private room reserved for bereaved family members. This was going to be one of the hardest things Hermione had ever done.  Despite her history with Draco Malfoy, she could bring herself to feel nothing but compassion for him at this point in their lives. By all accounts, since leaving school, Malfoy had been dealt one tragedy after another, and now he had yet another battle to face. At the very least, he deserved her sympathy even if he didn’t want it. 

Malfoy looked up as she entered the relatives room. He was sitting hunched over, one fist pressed against his mouth, his wedding ring glinting under the overhead lights. 

She glanced to where his wand lay on the next seat, resting on top of a bunched-up set of robes and a discarded gift box - something expensively packaged in silver and black paper. 

The silver eyes that met hers were red-rimmed, his once pristine white shirt rumpled, the collar undone. 

Hermione could see no trace of the arrogant, spiteful boy she had once known. Grief seemed to have stripped him of anything other than raw anguish, visible in every taut line of his face.  

‘Granger,’ his voice was rough.

‘Draco, hi.’ Hermione replied softly. Calling him Malfoy didn’t feel right given the situation. She sat down next to him, tucking her hands between her knees. 

Several seconds passed before he spoke.

‘You were one of the Healers who worked on them?’ 

’Yes. I was there.’

Malfoy swallowed audibly. 

‘Thank you. For trying with Astoria and for - saving my -‘ he broke off with a strangled sob.

They were silent for a moment as Malfoy gathered himself. 

‘Can I see my daughter now?’ 

‘Of course,’ she replied, her chest tight. 

‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Draco.’

She felt him tremble next to her, could hear his throat working as he fought to stay in control. 

‘The baby, she’s okay?’

Hermione nodded. ‘She’s perfect.’ 

He let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes falling closed momentarily.

‘Do you want to follow me? I can take you to her.’ She asked, rising to stand. Malfoy nodded, but he didn’t move. 

Hermione waited for a few moments, but he remained still, almost frozen in his chair. 

‘Malfoy? Are you alright?’

His grey eyes were wet when he turned them back to hers, and the pain in them almost took Hermione’s breath away.

‘Astoria always wanted to be a mother.’ He said quietly.  ‘It was her lifelong ambition.’

Hermione sat back down. 

‘I-I didn’t know she’d stopped taking the contraceptive potion. We’d talked about it, but I thought we’d do more research first, ensure it was safe for her.’ 

He took in a shivering breath.

‘I was just so happy when she told me she was pregnant that I didn’t question it. She promised me it would be fine and I just…believed her.’

He gave a small, bitter laugh, his hands flexing on his thighs, fingers digging into the navy material of his trousers.
Hermione didn’t know why Malfoy was telling her this, why he felt the need to explain, but she remained quiet and let him speak, sensing his need to unburden himself to someone.

‘I should have seen that she was getting worse,’ he croaked. ‘I should have known it was more than morning sickness.’

Malfoy’s breathing had become elevated. 

‘I’m a terrible husband. I was…busy with work. I wasn’t there enough.  I  - oh God. This is all - my fault - I did this to her - I should have- ‘ 

‘Draco.’ 

He had paled dramatically, his chest hitching.

‘Draco.’ Hermione said again, beginning to feel concerned. ‘Look at me.’ 

‘I - I can’t-‘ he stood up abruptly and began pacing around in a tight circle, panting raggedly. 

‘I should have been there - because now Astoria is dead - and she’ll never get to be a mum - and - I don’t know what to do with a baby and -‘ 

He couldn’t finish, he was hyperventilating. 

Hermione could see that if he carried on, he was going to pass out. He was going into shock. 

‘Malfoy!’ Her voice was firm. ‘Please sit down before you fall down.’ 

He sat, collapsing into the chair, his entire body trembling. Hermione placed a tentative hand on his back, surreptitiously monitoring his galloping heart rate as he gulped in great heaving breaths.

‘It’s not your fault.’ She said quietly. ‘No one picked up on how sick Astoria was. Her chief Healer saw her last week and he didn’t note down any new concerns.’

‘But I’m her husband.’ He made a small choking sound. ‘Was, her husband.’ 

 He bent forward, burying his face in his hands. 

‘I should have been here.’ His voice was muffled.

Hermione said nothing for a moment. She knew Malfoy wouldn’t hear her words. He was too lost in his grief and in his guilt. It was a terrible set of circumstances, and nothing she said or did could make it any better.

‘Draco,’ she murmured when he was a little calmer, his breath still hitching a little.

Hermione put a hand on his arm.

‘You need to know - Astoria did get to meet her daughter, just for a moment. She smiled, and she- ‘ 

Hermione swallowed, suddenly afraid she was going to cry. It was important to stay professional. 

‘-She looked peaceful after that.’

Malfoy lifted his head. He looked at her like she was a lifeline, like she’d just given him the most precious gift. 

‘Sh-she did?’ He whispered. ‘Astoria saw the baby?’ 

‘Yes,’ Hermione said. ‘I made sure of it... I promised her that your daughter would be fine, reassured her that she was healthy.’

He stared at her for a long time, and Hermione could see that it was taking everything he had just to hold himself together. 

‘Thank you,’ he said eventually, his breathing almost back to normal. ‘Thank you for telling me, Granger.’

They sat silently side by side for a moment. 

‘Are you ready to go and meet your little girl?’

Malfoy nodded, and this time he unfolded his long body from his chair and stood, taking a deep breath.

‘I’m ready.’

The first time he saw his newborn daughter, Draco Malfoy completely fell apart. 

Hermione had never seen a man so overcome. For someone historically so haughty and controlled, he absolutely dissolved. 

He bent over his child, his hands gripping the sides of the cot as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. The sound he made was raw, wrenched from somewhere deep in his chest. 

Hermione and Katie left the room for a few minutes, giving him some privacy.

Hermione could see through the glass that Malfoy was speaking to the baby, gazing down into the cot and talking and talking, although she couldn’t hear any of what he said. Silvery tears fell from his eyes, catching in the glow of the observation charms above the little girl. 

‘How’s he doing?’ 

Hermione turned to see Chief Healer Jennings, Astoria’s lead Healer standing behind her. 

‘As expected,’ she said quietly. 

‘Poor bloke. You wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy, would you?’

Hermione’s jaw tightened. She smoothed down her robes and pushed a loose curl out of her face. 

‘Have the rest of the family been called?’ She asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. 

‘Yes. Mr Malfoy gave us some contacts. The Greengrass family reside in France, and an international Portkey will take several hours. But there were a few other names on the list. We have someone sending owls as we speak.’

‘I hope someone comes soon.’ Hermione murmured. ‘He shouldn’t be alone with this.’

Healer Jennings murmured in agreement, glancing once more into the room.

‘Stay with the Malfoys tonight. We have enough staff to cover the main ward. That man is going to need all the help he can get.’

Twenty minutes later, Hermione re-entered the room. Draco’s face was still deathly pale, but he seemed to have himself back under control. She walked to stand next to him, peering down into the cot. 

‘Do you have a name picked out?’ 

‘We’d agreed on Aurora if it was a girl.’ He smiled sadly. ‘It’s a family tradition.’ 

‘It’s beautiful.’ Hermione said, and she meant it.
‘Hello, baby Aurora.’

Malfoy stiffened next to her but said nothing, his eyes fixed on the baby’s face.

‘She’s so tiny.’ He murmured, and Hermione nodded.

‘She came a little early. She’s small but very strong.’
She indicated the monitoring diagnostics above the baby’s head, each light glowing brightly.  
‘These let me know her heart rate, breathing rate, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. All are currently perfect.’

Malfoy looked up at them, frowning a little. She didn’t think he could read them, but he studied them nonetheless.

From within the cot, Aurora suddenly let out a small cry, and Malfoy jumped like a gun had gone off. 

‘Shit.’ He said. ‘Is she okay? What do I do?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Get used to it,’ she said softly. ‘Babies tend to cry a lot. Do you want to sit down? I can give her to you.’ 

Malfoy froze. 

Hermione had seen Draco Malfoy scared plenty of times before.
Aged seventeen at Malfoy Manor when she had been lying on the floor, screaming as Bellatrix carved a slur into her arm. Again, when he crossed the ruined courtyard of Hogwarts school to join his parents, embraced into the arms of a madman.
In media photographs, aged twenty-one when he’d stood trial in front of the Wizengamot, silent and stiff in the dock as they handed down his sentence.

But she didn’t think that any of those times he’d looked as utterly panic-stricken as he did now. 

‘I - I don’t know how to hold something that small,’ he said, staring down at Aurora and then looking at his own large hands. ‘What if I hurt her?’

‘You won’t hurt her,’ Hermione replied. ‘I can show you how to hold her correctly. How to support her head.’

Aurora had settled now, but Hermione knew they didn’t have long - she’d need feeding soon.

She explained. ‘When babies are first born, they can’t hold up their own heads, it’s too heavy for them. When you pick them up, you must always put a hand behind the back of their head to support their neck. The other hand goes here, spread under their bum and back, so you’re cradling them.’

Hermione peeled back the blanket, pointing as she explained. Aurora was wearing a plain white babygrow they kept on hand in the hospital, her little legs scrunched up, not quite filling the feet holes.  
She slipped one hand behind her velvety little blonde head, the other scooped under her bottom.
Malfoy watched her, rapt. His grey eyes were wide, never leaving his baby’s face. 

 ‘Draco,’ Hermione said. ‘Go and sit in the chair over there. I’ll hand her to you.’ 

He swallowed hard but nodded, crossing the room and sitting down on the squashy green nursing chair. He stretched out his long legs and widened them, resting his elbows on the arms. 

‘Like this?’ 

‘Yes,’ Hermione said. ‘Although, we’re going to do something a little extra.’ 

She rocked Aurora gently as she approached him. Malfoy’s gaze followed the baby, never taking his eyes off her for a second. 

Hermione’s voice was soft when she spoke.  

‘We’re going to do something called skin-to-skin contact. Usually this happens when the baby is first born.’ She explained carefully. ‘We place them on their mother’s chest. It helps with the bonding process for mother and baby.’ She could barely look Malfoy in the eye as she continued.  
‘U-unfortunately, that wasn’t… possible for Aurora.’

Understanding dawned on his face, and Hermione thought she’d never seen anything so heartbreaking in her entire life. 

‘But we can do it now,’ she said. ‘I’ll take off her babygrow and you can hold her against your chest. It will help her to feel secure and to feel your heartbeat. It will remind her of-‘ Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat. 

‘I can help you feed her like this too, so that she associates your scent with feeding time. It will make it more relaxing for her.’ 

Malfoy was utterly still. Every muscle in his body was rigid, but she could see his pulse fluttering rapidly in the side of his neck. After a moment or two, he let out a slow breath. 

‘Alright.’

‘Okay,’ Hermione murmured. ‘You can open your shirt now, down to the waist.’

He nodded, his jaw tight as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it looser from the band of his navy blue dress trousers and opening it to reveal an expanse of pale, scarred skin over a lightly muscled chest and abdomen. There were tattoos too, curling over his collarbone and shoulder, images Hermione couldn’t quite make out. 

‘Great,’ she said, averting her eyes from the sight of the Sectumsempra scars, still so violent even after all these years. 

Hermione placed Aurora back down in the crib momentarily. The baby fussed as Hermione gently undid the buttons of her babygrow, curling her little body in on itself as the air hit her warm skin. Hermione quickly picked her back up as she heard Malfoy shift behind her at the sound of Aurora’s soft cries, cradling the baby in her arms and stepping back towards him. He was breathing hard again, his eyes wide and anxious as he followed her movements, tensing up when Hermione stepped between his legs.

‘Ready?’ 

He nodded, and she bent, angling her elbow inside his shirt as she gently placed Aurora onto Malfoy’s bare chest. He seemed to be holding his breath as his hand came up to support her body, almost exactly like Hermione had shown him.

She gently moved his elbow so that the baby’s head rested on his bicep under his shirt and she was cocooned inside the expensive white cotton, her little body curled against her father’s abdomen, feet tucked, hands fisted tightly under her chin. Malfoy looked reverent, his eyes cast down at Aurora as he took over a little more and tightened his arms, cradling his daughter closer to him. Aurora instantly settled, her face turning into his chest, eyes closed. 

‘There,’ Hermione whispered. ‘Perfect.’

Malfoy didn’t respond. He lowered his face and took in a deep, shaking breath, his eyes falling closed as he planted a tiny, soft kiss on the top of Aurora’s little peach-fuzz head.  

Hermione stepped back, leaving them to have their moment. She turned away, back towards the crib, folding the babygrow and blanket, needing to give herself something to do as she got control of her own emotions. 

Draco Malfoy and his daughter stayed that way for almost an hour, his face tipped down to hers, grey eyes roving over her features, seemingly unable to look anywhere else. He didn’t move, even as time ticked along and his arms must have been aching. He remained so still he could have been petrified, the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his occasional blinks the only interruption to his adoring examination of his daughter's face. 

Hermione left the room several times and came back to find he still hadn’t moved. Eventually, she had to disturb them. Malfoy seemed loath to put her down but Aurora was getting fussy, rooting around and wriggling for a moment until her face screwed up, red and angry as she let loose a loud wail that absolutely frightened the life out of her father. Hermione showed him how to feed her, demonstrating how to measure out a bottle and heat it magically. 

He fed Aurora standing up, rocking her slightly as she drained the bottle and then watching intently as Hermione showed him how to wind her. His large hand spanned the baby’s entire back as he rubbed and patted gently and then let out a soft sound of pleased surprise when she burped and an equally surprised sound of concern when she promptly brought a mouthful of milk back up onto his shoulder.  
‘It’s alright,’ Hermione said with a smile as she vanished the wet spot. ‘A little spit up is perfectly normal.’

After that, the next inevitable mountain to climb was changing.  
This went a lot less smoothly. Aurora was unhappy, her grumpiness increasing as Malfoy insisted on learning how to do it manually rather than magically at first. 

‘Oh Jesus Christ.’ He paled as he opened the nappy and peeked inside. ‘Granger, why the fuck is it black?’

Hermione snorted a laugh at his use of the Muggle swear alongside his thoroughly overwrought reaction to a little bit of baby poo, but then she reminded herself how alien this all was to him and got back to the job at hand. She talked him through it, pointing out the various mechanics, demonstrating how to clean her and apply barrier cream. Malfoy listened attentively, but Hermione could see that he was overwhelmed. 

The more Aurora complained, the more he panicked until he was hot and sweaty, his long fingers struggling with the wipes and then the small tabs to close the nappy. Malfoy was coiled tight with anxiety, terrified he was going to hurt her, and when Hermione showed him how to straighten Aurora’s legs to ensure the right fit, he practically bit her head off.

It took a long while for her to convince him this was the only way to manually put on a nappy, and eventually, he allowed Hermione to show him the magical way, finding that significantly easier and letting out a long sigh of relief once Aurora was finally clean and dressed again. He picked the baby up and held her to him like they’d just survived their first ordeal together. 

‘You need to sleep when the baby sleeps.’ Hermione informed him another hour later when she reentered the room and found Malfoy still looming over the crib, dark smudges under his eyes, his hair dishevelled.

He shook his head vehemently.  
‘What if she wakes up? What if she needs me?’ 

‘Draco,’ Hermione said. ‘Haven’t you noticed yet? Aurora definitely has the lungs to let you know when she needs you. She’s just had a feed, she’ll be okay for a little while.’ The corner of his mouth twitched up, but he shook his head resolutely again. 

‘I’m not sleeping. I can’t.’ 

Another half hour later, she came back to find that he’d pulled the nursing chair up alongside the cot and fallen dead asleep, slumped sideways in the chair, one hand hanging limply over the side of the crib while Aurora dozed inside.

Hermione studied him for a moment.

Malfoy’s bottom lip pouted in repose, long lashes splayed over his cheeks. He looked younger without the hard lines of grief tightening his face, more like his seventeen-year-old self than the twenty-nine-year-old man he had become. 

He was still wearing his shiny dress shoes, and although he’d buttoned his shirt, the cuffs were rolled. Hermione could see the Dark Mark on his forearm, faded and benign, but still as grotesque as ever against his pale skin.
Hermione’s own scarred forearm tingled in sympathy. 

She debated moving him into a more comfortable position, but she knew how desperately Malfoy needed this rest and didn’t want to risk waking him. 

Instead, she cast a gentle cushioning charm and then moved to check Aurora’s vitals again. 

She was just about to creep out when there was suddenly an almighty racket from the corridor outside the room, loud voices and echoing footsteps.

‘Draco?’ A female voice called at a volume that was wholly inappropriately for a hospital at any time of day, let alone late at night. 

Hermione cast a Tempus, realising with alarm that it was three am and her shift had technically finished two hours ago. 

‘Where is he?’ The quiet of the ward was pierced again, ‘Malfoy?’  

Hermione stood up, incensed. Who the hell was making such a racket at three in the morning on a hospital ward, and how had they even gotten in at this time of night?

Another voice, this one male, arguing with one of the healers on shift, their tone initially calm but getting steadily louder and more aggrieved until Hermione could hear every word.

‘Fuck off, mate. I don’t care what time it is and I don’t give a shit about visiting hours. We’re here for the Malfoys.’ 

Hermione glanced at Draco. He was still fast asleep. 

She quickly cast a silencing charm and grabbed the door handle, stepping out of the room and into the corridor just in time to see Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott stalking their way towards her, closely followed by a severely disgruntled Mike Thompson, one of the other Healers on the night shift. 

‘Granger!’ Pansy shouted, her stiletto heels clicking loudly over the tiled floor as she approached with Theo hot on her heels.

‘Hermione bloody Granger. Oh, thank god there’s someone with a brain cell around here. Can you help us find Malfoy? Do you know where he might be?’ 

She'd been crying. Hermione could see twin trails of black mascara staining her cheeks. 

‘Shhh, please,’ Hermione whispered. ‘This is a hospital, ward, there are babies here.’

Her words died in her throat as Pansy glimpsed Malfoy through the glass window, her breath catching. 

‘Theo! He’s here!’ She gasped, and before either Mike or Hermione could say another word, both she and Theo had pushed their way into the room. 

Hermione could see through the glass, Malfoy jerking suddenly awake, his eyes flaring wide as he darted towards the crib, his hawthorn wand somehow already in his hand. 

A moment later, he registered who the intruders were and all the fight immediately bled out of him as both Theo and Pansy stepped forward, wrapping their arms tightly around his shoulders. 

Then, Hermione watched as Draco Malfoy fell apart all over again. 

Chapter Text

Hermione didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look more desperately relieved than Draco Malfoy when he realised his friends had come for him. 

The tenuous threads of self control he’d hung onto seemed to snap the second he’d seen Pansy and Theo, as though he’d finally given himself permission to crumble now he knew they were there to pick him back up. 

Hermione turned away from the glass and cast a privacy charm, allowing the group to grieve in peace as she walked away with Mike in tow.    

The last thing she’d seen was Malfoy’s hands fisting into Theodore Nott’s shirt as he gasped great heaving sobs onto his friend’s shoulder.

Theo had pressed his face into Malfoy’s hair and clutched him back fiercely, his own blue eyes filled with tears as he met Pansy's stricken gaze over the top of Malfoy's head. 

Hermione didn’t go home.

Distantly, she was aware she’d been awake for over twenty four hours, but her sleep deprivation felt insignificant in light of the day's events.  

She was bone-weary, drained by sadness for Malfoy and heavy with the type of exhaustion that only came at the end of a busy shift on her feet. Regardless, she felt a responsibility to see the night through, to ensure father and daughter were okay before she left the hospital. 

As she made her way down the corridor, Hermione noticed that Malfoy had left his robes still bunched in the waiting room chair next to where he’d been sitting earlier. 

She picked them up, the spiced, woody scent of his cologne emanating from the opulent navy material as she folded it over her arm. 

As she was leaving, Hermione noticed a package on the floor, half concealed under the seat.  
It was the one she’d seen earlier - a small rectangular box, wrapped in thick black paper with a silvery bow. 

The tag was facing up and Hermione immediately recognised Malfoy's elegant looping script - the same dramatic cursive he'd used in school.  
She picked the box up, placing it on top of his robes to return to him. She didn't intend to read the words on the label, but they were impossible to look away from.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Hermione unfolded the robes and pushed the gift inside the pocket where it would be safe but out of sight. She imagined there was something valuable inside but no doubt it was the last thing Malfoy needed to see tonight.

Hermione spent the next hour checking on the other patients on the ward before going to sit in the reception area, sipping on a black coffee as she dutifully filled out her paperwork for the day -  a necessary but painfully tedious part of her job. 

‘Hermione? What are you still doing here?’

She looked up guiltily to find her colleague Ernie Macmillian standing at the desk, fresh in for his shift.
He glanced behind her at the large clock on the waiting room wall.

‘Didn’t you finish like four hours ago?’ 

‘Ah yes. I did, but...’ she shrugged. 'It was a difficult day. We lost a patient.'

Ernie grimaced.  
'I heard. Draco Malfoy's wife, wasn't it? Astoria?’

Hermione nodded and Ernie raised his eyebrows as he followed Hermione’s gaze to the shielded window of the room across the corridor. 

'He's in there?' 

'Yes, with his daughter and some visitors.'

He wrinkled his nose.  
‘It must have been rough on you, having to deal with Malfoy all day.’ He stepped closer and placed what she assumed was meant to be a comforting hand on the back of hers where it lay on the desk. 

Hermione glared at him incredulously. 

‘Not as hard as the day has been for him, Ernie! The man lost his wife.’ She pulled her hand back pointedly and Ernie stepped away. 

He had the gall to look affronted by her outburst.

‘I didn’t say otherwise, Hermione. I’m just aware of your history with Malfoy, that’s all.' He frowned down at her for a moment and then shrugged.  
‘But then I suppose he has history with the entire Wizarding world doesn’t he? Draco Malfoy will always be a marked Death Eater, no matter how much he’s tried to make us all forget.’

Hermione felt her blood beginning to heat. It wasn’t that Ernie was wrong as such - the tattoo she’d glimpsed on Malfoy’s forearm had been a jarring reminder of all he’d been a part of during the war. But the things Ernie was bringing up were in the past. The war was long over, they had all tried their best to move on, Malfoy included.  

The events of the day had nothing to do with what he had or hadn’t done ten years ago, nor her feelings on the matter. She was a Healer and a midwife, she would treat all patients with the same care and consideration regardless of who they were. The insinuation that she wouldn't was frankly insulting. 

‘Draco Malfoy served his time Ernie.' She said coldly. He was a teenager when he committed those crimes and he paid his dues in Azkaban. Regardless of your opinion on him, his wife died today, have some respect for her at least.’  
She raised an eyebrow at the Healer insignia on his chest. 

Ernie stared at her for a moment, seeming to be searching for a response and coming up empty.
He turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, green robes billowing behind him. 

Hermione whipped away her paperwork, angrily stabbing her quill into the bottle before heading towards the bathroom, feeling the need to splash some cold water on her face. 

During the time she’d been gone, the new family had been moved to a side room with more privacy and a bed for Malfoy to sleep in, usually reserved for mothers. Hermione had recommended they keep Aurora in for a few days, just to make sure she was well after her quick delivery.

When she entered the room a little later to check Aurora's vitals, Malfoy, Pansy and Theo were all sitting on a transfigured sofa, the nursing chair  provided magically extended so that Malfoy was in the middle with Aurora in his arms, his friends squashed in either side. 

Malfoy glanced up as she entered.  
He looked utterly wrung out, Hermione thought. His face was ghostly pale, his pallid complexion offset by the purple shadows under his eyes which had darkened considerably in the past few hours.
Regardless, his expression was still one of reverent pride as he lifted his index finger and Aurora’s little fist tightened where she’d wrapped her whole hand around it. His lips twitched up, eyes full of love. 

Pansy cooed down at the baby whilst Theo lounged next to them, raising a hand in greeting as Hermione entered and then watching her potter about the room. 

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After a minute or two, at Hermione’s request, Malfoy rose and brought Aurora to the crib so that she could check her vitals. He lay the baby down like she was made of glass, his large hand gently enveloping the back of her head as he placed her in the center of the mattress and then stood back, watching Hermione intently as she cast the diagnostics.  

His grey eyes narrowed as he tracked her wand movements, studying the different coloured lights that appeared above Aurora’s head. Again, he asked numerous probing questions as Hermione pointed out the various readings, forcing her to repeat herself several times.

‘Aurora is doing great, Draco,’ she said eventually, feeling like she was being tested somehow. 'You don't need to worry. I promise I’d tell you if anything was wrong.' 

He nodded, finally dragging his eyes from the glow of the diagnostic to look straight into hers. 

'Oh I trust you, Granger.' He murmured quietly. 'There are very few people I can think of that I’d trust to look after my daughter more than you.’  
Hermione paused, surprised by his words and the earnestness with which he'd said them. 

However, before she could respond, Aurora began fussing, her quiet cries quickly intensifying in the few seconds it took for Malfoy to go to the small fridge in the corner of the room and get the donor breastmilk he’d elected to use. He Accioed a glass bottle and began to pour out the correct amount.

He was anxious again, looking to Hermione for constant reassurance as he followed her earlier instructions, gently heating the milk with the tip of his wand. 

'Just check the temperature on your inner arm first.' Hermione warned, and he did, the milk squirting out onto the Dark Mark as he yanked up his sleeve.

‘It feels okay?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I think so, not too hot.’  
‘Alright. You’re good to go.’ 

Malfoy picked Aurora up and nestled her in the crook of his arm, just like Hermione had shown him hours earlier. He was fully focused, carefully guiding the bottle to her mouth.
But Aurora was already furious, having gotten herself into such a state in the time it took him to make up the bottle that she was wailing loudly, refusing to latch on to the teat.  
Aurora’s cries grew progressively louder as Malfoy tried in vain to entice her to accept the bottle into her mouth, growing visibly more frustrated the longer she refused.

‘It’s okay, this is normal.’ Hermione reassured him, raising her voice to be heard over Aurora. 

Malfoy pressed his lips together and tried again, his body language tense, a frown creasing a line between his eyes.

Theo and Pansy looked on in thinly veiled horror as Aurora’s screams intensified, looking for all the world like they’d never heard a baby cry before. Hermione didn’t miss Theo’s surreptitious muting charm, his wand sliding out of his pocket and then back in again smoothly. 

‘Fuck.’ Malfoy muttered. ‘Fuck. Granger, why won’t she take it?’ He was growing agitated, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out over his forehead. His fingers shook a little as he kept trying with the bottle. 

Hermione stepped forward, murmuring encouragement, demonstrating how to rub the teat against Aurora’s top lip to entice her to latch on. 

‘It’s not working.’ He grit out, and Hermione could feel the stress emanating from him. Malfoy was exhausted, mentally and physically. She could clearly see the effect Aurora’s unhappiness was having on him, pulling an already taut wire to breaking point. 

He tried again, but Aurora turned her face away, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth a wide O of fury. 

‘It’s alright-‘ Hermione said, her fingers coming up to lift Malfoy’s forearm, angling the bottle downwards. ‘Like this,’ she said. ‘Just-‘

‘I said it’s not FUCKING working, Granger!’ He burst out, pulling his arm out of her grip, his tone blisteringly sharp. Hermione stepped back, her heart pounding.

‘She hates this.’ He hissed. ‘She doesn’t want a bottle. She doesn’t want me. She wants her- she needs her mother.’

Then it was there again, that telltale quickening of breath, Malfoy’s chest beginning to hitch under his shirt. Pansy seemed to notice it too and she jumped off the sofa. 

‘Draco, love,’ she said. ‘It’s okay.’ 

‘It’s not okay, Pans, is it?’ He snapped, his eyes flashing, his voice still loud. ‘How the fuck can you say any of this is okay?’

He turned away from both Hermione and Pansy, rocking and shushing Aurora in a vain attempt to calm both the baby and himself. 

‘Come on.’ He muttered. ‘Please. Please drink sweetheart. Please.’

Pansy’s face was tight as she glanced at Hermione. It was clear that she was beginning to understand the magnitude of the challenges that lay ahead. Despite Draco’s obvious fragility, Aurora was here and she was the priority. 

‘Draco.’ Hermione said, using the same quiet, firm tone she’d used earlier in the night.  
‘Please could I take her? Just for a minute. It’s alright. This is my job. Let me help you.’ 

He turned stormy grey eyes to hers, his shoulders heaving. Hermione held her arms out, taking a tentative step towards him, as though he were a skittish animal she didn’t want to spook. It was technically close to the truth. She knew how stressful it could be to any new parent when they couldn’t comfort their child, but Malfoy was grieving. He was under a lot more pressure than your average newborn father. 

‘Fuck.’ He murmured, drawing the baby close to him possessively for a moment.
‘Bollocks. Granger, I -‘ he looked down at Aurora who was now positively puce, her cries becoming higher and higher pitched. 

He debated only a moment longer before his shoulders sagged in defeat and he reluctantly handed her to Hermione and stepped away, scrubbing a hand hard over his face. 

Hermione took Aurora, lifting her up and placing her over her shoulder, rubbing her back a little. The baby squirmed in discomfort briefly before she let out an impressive burp and then began calming, her fervent cries dying away to soft hiccupy sobs. 

Malfoy watched, something that looked a little like betrayal darkening his eyes, along with an almost unbearable sadness. 

‘Draco.’ Pansy placed a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand for a moment, swallowing rapidly before suddenly shaking her off.  
‘This is just too much,’ he muttered quietly. ‘I can’t.  I can’t do this without her, Pans.’ He put the bottle down and turned, leaving the room in two long strides. 

The door shuddered on its hinges behind him.

The three adults stared after Malfoy in stunned silence for a moment before Pansy let out a small sob and went after him, leaving Hermione holding Aurora and Theo sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands. 

‘Well, shit.’ He murmured. ‘That couldn’t have gone any worse.’

Hermione said nothing for a moment, rocking Aurora slowly. She picked up the bottle Malfoy had discarded and began feeding her. The baby accepted the bottle calmly now, her pink lips wrapping around the teat as she began to suck, quiet swallowing sounds letting Hermione know she was taking the milk down beautifully. 

‘It’s understandable.’ She said after a few minutes, her eyes raising from Aurora’s face to meet Theo’s. 
‘Draco is processing a huge loss and newborns demand a lot of energy that he really doesn’t have to give right now.’

Theo nodded. ‘The man is an absolute mess, Granger.’
Hermione couldn’t disagree. 

‘I don’t know how he’s going to cope once it really hits him.’ Theo said. ‘He has no idea how to exist without Astoria.’

‘I can’t even imagine-‘ Hermione began.

‘No, I mean, he literally doesn’t know how to live without her. He’s never experienced life without Astoria in it. Their families were close before they were even born. Malfoy and Astoria were friends since they were kids, betrothed since they were like, fifteen. He’s never spent a minute without knowing she was there for him, even when he was in Azkaban.’
Theo let out a breath. ‘Honestly, I think knowing that was the only thing that stopped him from following his old man and topping himself.’

Hermione felt herself blanch.
Azkaban was designed to destroy those who were imprisoned there, to take apart their psyche piece by piece until they were just shadows of their former selves. She’d seen plenty of patients during her years at St Mungo’s who had been there for a much shorter time than Draco Malfoy and had never recovered. 

Theo seemed to be reading her thoughts.

‘Oh it fucked him up for sure.’ He said. ‘Malfoy’s very good at keeping up appearances, but he was different when he came out, like he was lost inside his head half the time.’ Theo’s expression twisted.
‘It took a long time for him to be able to adjust to life outside the four walls of his cell, and even longer for him to get to where he is now. Astoria was the only person who really knows how close he got the edge because she was the one to drag him back. She never told any of us the details of his recovery. It upset her to even think about that time.’

Hermione remembered the huge media furore surrounding Malfoy’s trial. Some people believed that he should have simply been put on house arrest given his age, others bayed for his blood, demanding he be given the kiss.  
The year-long sentence he’d been given had been touted as a compromise by the ministry, the facts surrounding his crimes inescapable. He needed to be seen to be paying his penance.

Following his release, the Prophet had printed a flurry of pictures of him, tall and much more angular, immaculately dressed in a tuxedo as he attended various galas and charity functions injected with Malfoy cash as his mother scrambled to redeem the family name.
She remembered him as pale and dead-eyed in the photos, even as he smiled and sipped champagne. Theo’s description of Malfoy being lost rang true. 

After that he seemed to disappear off the radar. Hermione remembered vaguely hearing from Harry that he worked in some capacity for the DMLE.  
He’d apparently been rejected from Auror training due to his background and instead worked as a consultant specialising in dark magic and cursebreaking, employed on a case by case basis. 

She hadn’t thought about Malfoy again in years, not until she’d seen him today, broken and terrified but despite everything, clearly extremely loved. 

‘He’s going to need a lot of help and support.’ She said eventually. 

Theo nodded. ‘Fucking right you are babe. He’s got us. Me and Pansy, Blaise too when he can finally get here. We’ll be there for him and Aurora, no matter what.’

Hermione smiled. ‘You might want to get used to the sound of babies crying then Theodore.’ She nodded towards his wand poking out of his pocket.  
‘Oh you caught that?’ Theo grinned at her and winked. ‘I forgot I was dealing with Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age.’
Hermione was mortified to see that Theo accompanied the moniker with jazz hands.

‘God, please don’t.’ She groaned. ‘I’d happily never hear that phrase ever again. Theo gave a wicked smirk, raising his eyebrows. ‘I’d always assumed you loved it-‘

He was interrupted from saying anything further by the door opening.
Malfoy stepped inside, grey eyes immediately zeroing in on Aurora nestled in Hermione’s arms. His jaw tightened, his shoulders stiff as he lifted his tired eyes to hers and ran a hand through blonde hair that was growing steadily more wild by the hour. 

Pansy appeared behind him in the doorway. 

‘Theo, darling.’ She called. ‘Shall we go and get a coffee?’ Theo jumped up immediately, sensing her tone.  
‘I’m not drinking the coffee here, Pans.’ Hermione heard him say as the door closed behind them. 

There was silence. Malfoy watched her rock Aurora, his fingers twitching towards his baby.
Hermione stepped forwards and he gratefully took Aurora into his arms, kissing her gently on her forehead and whispering apologies against the soft swell of her cheek.

Hermione suddenly felt exhausted. She collapsed onto the sofa, feeling it dip a moment later as Malfoy also folded his long body into the seat next to her. They sat side by side quietly for a minute as he finished giving Aurora her bottle, the baby’s steady swallows the only sound in the room. Hermione let her head fall back and her tired eyes drift closed, almost falling asleep where she sat.  

‘Granger,’ Malfoy began, startling her as he cleared his throat. Her eyes flew open and she turned her head to look at him sideways, finding him already looking at her.
‘I need to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. It was inexcusable when you were only trying to help me.’

‘It’s fine-‘ Hermione began.

 ‘No. It’s really not.’ His tone was firm. ‘Firstly, what kind of a father walks away from his crying baby? And secondly, you’ve been immeasurably kind to me over the last- ‘ he twisted his wrist to look at the chunky silver watch he wore. ‘Christ, over the last eleven hours. You didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way.’ 

‘Malfoy honestly, don’t worry.’ Hermione said. ‘This is an extremely difficult time, it’s understandable you might be a bit overwhelmed.’
He let out a small laugh. ‘Just a bit, yeah.’ 

‘And you need to know, a good father actually does walk away, for a minute at least.’ Hermione said. ‘If you’re ever feeling the same way in the future, the best thing to do is to place Aurora down somewhere safe and take a breather. Because it will happen again. Babies cry, Draco. It’s their only method of communicating what they need.’

He nodded slowly, his expression softening as he carefully lifted a now fast asleep Aurora onto his shoulder, her head turned to the side. He absently smoothed a hand over her back in a slow, comforting rhythm.
Aurora’s pink rosebud mouth was slightly open in sleep, milk bubbles on her tongue. Her entire body was limp as she rested on her father’s chest, both Malfoys relaxed and breathing evenly - a complete juxtaposition to their earlier anguish. 

‘I’m beyond grateful to you for tonight, Granger.’
He murmured quietly, his own eyes closing as he rested his head on the back of the chair.
Hermione realised with a jolt that Malfoy’s Azkaban number was tattooed on his neck, the runes visible just below the blonde flicks of hair and above his collar as he leaned back. 

‘Y-you’re a good person,’ he continued.
‘You always have been - punching me in the face notwithstanding of course.’
She laughed but it sounded a little choked.

‘You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.’

His voice was tight when he next spoke.
‘Don’t do that. I know it’s your job, but you’ve gone above and beyond, done far more than what is required of you, for me of all people. I’ll never be able to convey my gratitude, nor be able to repay it. So truly, thank you.’ 

Hermione found herself looking into Malfoy’s cool, grey eyes again and it was impossible to feel any of the hatred for him that she once had. This man had so many difficult things behind him and so much more ahead. Tonight was only the beginning of his newest struggle. 

‘I was just doing my job.’ She reiterated. ‘And you are going to be an amazing father, Malfoy. I can see it.’

He took in a deep breath, ‘I’ll try my best. I’ll love her enough for Astoria too.’ 

They lapsed into silence, the quiet stretching out as Malfoy continued smoothing Aurora’s back and her little hands made fists on his chest.
Hermione glanced up at the clock. It was six am.

‘I’m really sorry, but it’s time I actually was getting home,’ she whispered, forcing herself to get up off the surprisingly comfortable sofa.
‘I’ll send my colleague Danielle in to look after you this morning. She’s great, so don’t worry.’

‘You’ll be back tomorrow?’  

‘Yes,’ she said immediately, even though she wasn’t sure if she was due on shift. ‘Although it’s technically later today, not tomorrow.’
She didn’t miss the look of relief that flickered over Malfoy’s face. He swallowed audibly but nodded. 

‘Okay, I’ll see you later, and thank you again, Granger.’

‘Bye.’ She whispered, feeling strangely close to tears. ‘Bye Aurora.’

Hermione closed the door quietly, nodding to Theo and Pansy who were sitting in the waiting room, Pansy’s head resting on Theo’s shoulder. They both jumped up as she walked towards them, their faces etched with concern. Hermione was infinitely grateful they were there. 

She finally left St Mungo’s after giving them advice on where to get a decent coffee and strict instructions to ensure Malfoy put Aurora into the crib and slept, even if it was only for an hour or two. She hoped he managed that before the Greengrasses arrived and he had another ordeal to get through. 

It was light when Hermione finally arrived back at her flat, and she blinked sluggishly in the watery morning sunshine. 

She tripped over the doormat on her way in, swearing under her breath - so tired she could barely make her legs work. 

Harry was already up for work. He stood in the kitchen in his Auror robes, boiling eggs on the hob and buttering toast. 

‘Merlin, Mione!’ He spluttered, pressing a hand to his chest as she came stumbling in through the door, all plans of being quiet going straight out of the window.
‘It’s bloody seven am. I thought you were in bed.’

Hermione dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes, already beginning to undo her braid.

‘Believe me.’ She said as she dragged her fingers through her curls to free them, groaning with relief as the ache in her scalp was relieved. ‘I know what time it is.’

Harry stopped buttering, turning to look at her properly. 

‘Shit. What happened? His green eyes flashed with concern behind his glasses and he placed the knife he was holding down on the worktop. 

‘Are you okay?’

Hermione made her way towards him, stepping across the living space of the small flat and into the Kitchenette area. She suddenly needed nothing more than to be hugged by Harry. 

She pressed into him and his arms instantly came up around her, his familiar scent comforting against the antiseptic smell of the hospital on her clothes and skin.

‘Mione?’ He asked again. ‘Tell me. What’s happened?’

Hermione could barely speak, all the emotion she’d held in for the entire day suddenly pouring out of her now she was home in her warm, cosy flat and wrapped in the arms of her best friend. 

‘Oh Harry,’ she said, sniffing as she wiped at her tired eyes. ‘It’s been the hardest day. We lost a patient…’

Chapter Text

Hermione and Harry stood next to the cooker for a long time.

Harry’s soft-boiled eggs became hard-boiled but he said he didn’t mind. He kept his arms around Hermione’s shoulders and ate his toast, and he let her talk and talk.

She cried into Harry’s robes until she realised with horror that she’d left a soggy patch on his shirt and vanished it with a sniffled apology.
‘You’re going to be late.’ She murmured against his chest, breathing in his comforting warmth.

‘S’fine.’ Harry replied, his voice rumbling against her ear from below his ribcage.
‘I’m the chosen one. They can’t sack me.’

Hermione laughed despite herself, her breath hitching.
‘True. It would be terrible for the DMLE’s image.’

‘God, though.’ Harry exhaled. ‘Malfoy’s wife. That’s fucking awful.’

‘It really is.’ She swiped at her eyes. ‘The man is absolutely distraught.’

‘They were betrothed, weren’t they, Malfoy and Astoria? It was an arranged marriage?’

‘From what Theo said, I think it was, yes.’ Hermione agreed. ‘He said they’d been friends since they were kids, betrothed from about fifteen. But you only have to see how wrecked Malfoy is to know that he truly loved her - arranged marriage or not.’

Harry stopped chewing, swallowing down his mouthful of toast in a thick gulp.
‘Theo? You mean Theodore Nott?’

‘Yes. He was at the hospital. He’s still close with Malfoy, as well as Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini.’

‘Oh, right, yes. That makes sense.’ Harry replied thoughtfully. ‘They were always together in school.’

‘Malfoy’s friends seem to really love him.’

‘Good.’ Harry said. ‘Love is the only thing that will get him through something as lonely as this.’

Harry’s words brought on a fresh wave of tears, and he squeezed her tighter, using two fingers to lift Hermione’s chin so she was looking up at him.
‘Are you okay?’ He asked softly, green eyes imploring. ‘I can’t remember the last time I saw you cry. Malfoy wasn’t…awful to you, was he?’

‘God, no.’ Hermione replied. ‘He was fine. He’s just a grieving man, Harry.’ She swiped at her eyes again. ‘It’s just so bloody sad. It’s always difficult when we lose a patient, but when it’s someone you know…’ she trailed off.

She knew Harry could relate.
He’d had a really difficult case a few years back involving a string of potions overdoses. One of the victims had been Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw Harry had had a brief fling with after they left school. Although he hadn’t seen him for several years by then, Michael’s death had affected Harry for some time - yet another person to add to the long list of those he had already lost in his life.

Hermione often wondered how Harry managed to stay so positive, so steady and balanced after all he’d been through. Even before the war and his battle with Voldemort, he’d had the most horrendous childhood.

‘Friends, Mione.’ Harry had replied when she’d asked. ‘You lot saved me when I was eleven, and you’ve saved me every day since. Not only would I quite literally have died several times without you and Ron in school, but knowing I’ve got you makes up for all the things I’ve never had.’

She’d known he meant a family - his parents. She understood because, since their Obliviation, she no longer had her parents either.

Seeing as neither she nor Harry had ended up finding someone they wanted to be with long term yet, they had become each other’s family instead - someone to come home to, someone to share their successes and failures with, someone to vent to - and someone to pay the other half of the rent.

Their flat was small and cosy, close to work for both of them, and it was Hermione’s favourite place in the world - even when she was picking up Harry’s dirty Quidditch kit off the floor.

Eventually, he really did need to go to work. Harry gave her one last hug, cast a longing look at the eggs now languishing in rapidly cooling water and headed out of the door, shouting at her to get her arse into bed as he left.

Hermione immediately obeyed, utterly exhausted but feeling marginally better after having a good cry. She just about managed a quick shower, then crawled under her duvet without even bothering to dry her hair and fell straight into the kind of deep, dreamless sleep she only ever experienced after a night shift.

She slept for five hours, her alarm jolting her awake what felt like only seconds after she’d closed her eyes.
Hermione groggily reached for a glass of water and took a large swallow, chasing it down with a shot of the Pepperup she kept in the drawer next to her bed. She wondered how Malfoy’s morning had gone, hoping he had managed some sleep too.

It wasn’t her place to worry about Draco Malfoy and his daughter when she wasn’t at work, she realised, but Hermione had always struggled with her overwhelming propensity towards needing to help.

Her friends had made gentle fun of her bleeding heart when she was at Hogwarts, laughing when she started S.P.E.W and the other various causes she’d adopted over the years.
Many had assumed she’d go into politics when she left school, but after seeing so much bloodshed during the war, Hermione had known she wanted to be a Healer.
She wanted a job where she could see the good she was doing immediately, up close and personal, not spend her days debating, fighting to pass laws that may or may not make a difference years down the line.
Being a Healer wasn’t just a job - Hermione cared deeply about every patient she helped.

After a moment of psyching herself up, she threw back the duvet and got out of bed, swearing quietly when she saw the state of her hair in the mirror. She spent some time wrangling it back into a reluctant braid, running her wand over the wild curls that escaped in a pointless attempt to tame them.

Then, she dressed quickly in her Healer robes, grabbing a cereal bar and a coffee as she checked the messages on the mobile phone she’d become reliant on in recent years.

With both her and Harry working shifts, Ginny often abroad with the Harpies and Ron and Luna busy with their young families, owls couldn’t quite cut it. The Muggle devices had proved invaluable in allowing them all to keep in touch.

Hermione powered up the Nokia, and it beeped instantly with messages from both Ginny and Harry.

Ginny’s message was brief and to the point.
She’d be back from France next week, could Hermione make a plan to get the gang together for a pub night?

The text from Harry let her know he would be home late and would bring a takeaway with him for their tea.

She fired off a series of messages quickly to Ron, Neville and Luna, giving them some date options for a meet-up. A small part of her would always wonder how she was still the default person expected to organise anything in their group of fully functioning adults, but secretly, she liked to be the event co-ordinator - at least that way, she’d know it was done properly.

When Hermione arrived back at the hospital an hour later, the waiting room was busy. Ernie MacMillan was wheeling a patient onto the main ward, and Danielle was standing at the desk, filling in paperwork.

‘Everything okay?’ Hermione asked. She cocked her head towards the closed door of Malfoy’s room. ‘How have they been?’

‘Hmm.’ Danielle drew out the sound.
‘Alright, I suppose. He doesn’t say much, although that’s to be expected with what he’s going through. It’s a little nerve-wracking, though, the way he… you know -‘ she puffed out her chest, raising her shoulders and hunching over a little.

‘Ah,’ Hermione said, immediately understanding. ‘The looming. Yes, he does like to watch while you do Aurora’s checks. He’s anxious about his baby, given the traumatic circumstances of her birth.’

Danielle murmured her agreement. ‘It’s understandable, of course.’

‘How is Aurora?’ Hermione asked, picking up a quill and looking down at the ward notes.

‘Oh fine.’ Danielle said. ‘God, she’s beautiful, isn’t she?’
Hermione had to agree.
‘She’s got a set of lungs on her, though.’ Danielle added. ‘Mr Malfoy managed to deal with the meltdown she had during a feed, but Merlin forbid anyone tried to help. He practically shoved Mike out of the room when he offered.’

‘Mmm. Well, he's learning. The more time they spend together, the better he’ll get at figuring out a routine. It’s good that he wants to do it all himself.’

Ernie scoffed from where he’d come to stand on the other side of the desk. Hermione glanced up at him, frowning.
‘Hermione, it’s Draco Malfoy,’ he said. ‘No doubt he’ll have an army of house elves on hand to deal with the childcare as soon as Aurora is discharged. His mother, too. We’ve all seen how much of a mummy’s boy he is. I bet he won’t need to lift a finger.’

Hermione’s quill stilled on the parchment. 'You think?'

'You don't?' Even Danielle looked incredulous. 'He's one of the richest men in wizarding Britain, Hermione.’ Ernie continued. ‘He's not going to look after his own child. That’s not what Pureblood fathers do.’

At that moment, a young couple entered the reception. The woman's face was flushed, one hand gripping the desk tightly as she groaned and clutched at her sizeable bump.
'Contractions every five minutes now.' She gritted out between clenched teeth.

Danielle sprang into action, moving from behind the reception desk to guide the expectant mother into a side room for examination. Her partner trailed behind her, laden down with bags.

Hermione worked her way through the ward notes, still thinking about what Ernie had said. She had no idea why she was even giving it a second thought. It didn't matter what Malfoy did when he left the hospital and Aurora was no longer under her care, but for some reason, the assessment felt false.
Malfoy didn't seem detached from parenting Aurora - the opposite in fact.
Was that the done thing in Pureblood houses, though?
Would he leave his daughter’s care to the manor elves as soon as they got home?

Hermione felt like she got her answer less than half an hour later.

She returned from break to find Ernie MacMillan standing outside Malfoy’s hospital room, knocking loudly on the door.
Mike hovered nearby, looking faintly bemused.

‘What’s going on?’ She pushed at the door handle, finding it firmly locked.

Malfoy’s kicked me out.’ Ernie spat. ‘He’s warded the room to the bloody teeth and won’t let any of us in.’

‘What? Why on earth would he do that?’

‘Who knows?’ Ernie glanced around at the other patients in the waiting room who were all watching with great interest.
He lowered his voice.
‘He forced me out of there at wandpoint, Hermione.’

‘Oh.’ Hermione blanched. This was a situation that could escalate quickly. The hospital rightfully had a zero-tolerance policy for that kind of behaviour.

‘Okay,’ she said, holding out a placating hand. ‘Let’s all just calm down. He’s under a lot of pressure right now. I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on.’
She knocked again, listening intently for movement inside.

A moment later, the door swung open and Theo poked his head out, his wand in his hand.‘We said fuck o - oh, it’s Granger. Hello.’
He grinned at her before leaning back into the room, wand still raised.
‘Malfoy? Granger’s here.’
There was a murmured voice from inside, and Theo moved back, motioning for Hermione to step through.
‘Not you.’ He growled at Ernie, who had begun to follow her. He jabbed his wand menacingly, aiming it at Ernie’s chest.
Ernie whimpered, wisely choosing to remain where he was. Theo slammed the door in his face, resetting the wards and then standing with his back to the door like some sort of unhinged sentinel.

Inside, Malfoy was pacing back and forth, Aurora nestled in his arms, his wand sticking out of his trouser pocket. He looked absolutely livid, blonde hair wild where he’d clearly been raking a hand through it, his jaw set so that the tendons in his neck flexed under the Azkaban runes.

‘Malfoy, what the hell is going on?’ She demanded, and he turned to her, his eyes dark, his body coiled with tension.
Hermione could feel Malfoy’s magic rippling around him, something shadowy and powerful, threatening to escape with the force of his fury. She took an unintentional step back, suddenly remembering who she was speaking to.

‘HIM.’ He hissed. ‘That weedy little Hufflepuff wanker from school.’

‘Ernie?’ Hermione asked. ‘What happened? What did he do?’
Her mind raced along with her heart, desperately trying to imagine what Ernie might have said or done to have made Malfoy so furious.

Draco held Aurora close, cupping her whole face in his palm and pressing her to him so that they were cheek to cheek.
Two pairs of wide grey eyes stared back at her.
‘A needle, Granger.’ He whispered, as though it were a secret he didn’t want Aurora to hear.
‘He tried to come near my daughter with a big bloody fuck off needle.’

Hermione instantly relaxed.
‘Oh.’ She breathed, relief flooding through her.
‘You mean he just came in to give her a routine Vitamin K injection.’
Malfoy blinked at her, his mouth a resolute line.

‘Didn’t he explain? Didn’t he tell you what the injection was for?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Aurora was crying, and I was busy. Next thing I know, he’s got the needle in his hand and he’s coming towards my child. I did what any father would do.’

‘He threatened to pull his bollocks out through his mouth.’ Theo said brightly from his place at the door. ‘Possibly there were also one or two mentions of murder.’

‘Oh Jesus Christ.’ Hermione bit her lip to stop herself laughing, even though the situation wasn’t remotely funny.

‘Draco, you cannot do that to medical staff. This is our job. We’re here to help.’

‘MacMillan is a knobhead.’ Theo said. ‘I heard him saying shit about Malfoy to the other Healers.’
Hermione felt her own temper begin to simmer. Ernie MacMillan really was a knobhead.

‘He did?’

Theo nodded, his expression mutinous.
‘He’s lucky I’m on my best behaviour right now or he’d currently be finding my wand up his arse, and not in a good way.’

‘What did he say?’ Hermione asked, forcing her face to stay neutral. ‘I’m in charge of the ward. If Ernie is being unprofessional, that’s something I can follow up on.’

Theo opened his mouth to respond, but Malfoy held out a hand to silence him.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
Hermione held his gaze for a moment, but his expression remained stony, his voice low.
‘Leave it, Granger.’

‘Fine,’ she said eventually.
‘You are going to need to unlock the door, though. Because in a minute, someone might decide you are a danger to me or the other members of staff, and they’ll call in the DMLE. Is that what you want?’

‘I’m not having that prick near my baby again.’
Malfoy began, his lip curled. ‘I don’t give a fucking shit- ‘

‘Umm, Malfoy.’ Theo interjected. ‘Might that be something you need to consider, you don’t want -‘
Malfoy’s eyes suddenly snapped to meet Theo’s. Hermione watched as something unspoken passed between the two men. It was momentary, a small flicker of communication that she had no hope of understanding.

Malfoy sighed. ‘Fine.’ He muttered. ‘I’ll unlock the door, but for his safety, do not bring MacMillan in here. And I’m not letting anyone near my baby with a needle.’

‘Draco, listen. I understand how you feel,’ Hermione said gently. ‘Aurora is your daughter, and you want to protect her. But that’s why this injection is important. It’s vital to support blood clotting and can prevent her from developing a potential deficiency which could make Aurora very unwell.’

Malfoy paused, halting his pacing momentarily as Hermione continued.
‘I won't let Ernie in here, but Aurora does need this injection. How do you feel about letting me do it?’

He finally seemed to be considering it, looking down at Aurora and frowning. Suddenly, he no longer looked intimidating, his anger flickering and then draining away, leaving him once again looking uncertain, vulnerable.

‘Do you... do you think it’s what Astoria would have wanted me to do?’
‘I do.’ Hermione said gently. ‘She did everything in her power to keep Aurora safe, Draco. She would definitely want this.’
He looked back up at her, teeth pressing hard into his lower lip as he battled with himself.

‘Alright.’ He murmured eventually. ‘But it has to be you. Only you, Granger.’

Half an hour later they were settled.
Pansy had arrived and was sitting with Draco as Hermione talked him through what she was going to do, explaining that it would only hurt for a moment and that Aurora wouldn’t remember it.

Malfoy was frantic, his eyes darting from Hermione to the needle, to Aurora.
‘It’s okay, love,’ Pansy clutched his hand tightly.
‘Take some deep breaths.’

‘Fuck. I might be sick. I can't watch.’ Malfoy muttered. ‘It’s going to hurt her. What if she cries?’

‘She might cry.’ Hermione admitted. ‘But I’ll be casting a pain relief charm immediately after. Unfortunately, potions are not recommended for babies this small, or I could do more. Just - just remember what I said, okay?’

Malfoy met her eyes, and once again Hermione saw the depth of his loss in the translucent silver. There was no let-up, no time for him to grieve.
He was now a parent first and foremost, and it was relentless. Every decision about Aurora’s well-being fell on his shoulders alone.
The knowledge that he was trusting her despite his obvious terror made her chest ache so acutely that she had to look away.

‘Theo,’ Malfoy murmured as she began to undo the poppers on Aurora’s babygrow. ‘If you need to, Stupefy me.’

‘Gladly.’ Theo smirked, but he came to sit on Malfoy’s other side, taking his hand in solidarity.
Draco’s knuckles were white, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle twitched below his cheekbone.

She looked down at Aurora, who was wide awake. The baby blinked slowly, gazing up at her with grey eyes that were striking in their similarity to her father’s, and although Hermione knew her vision wasn’t clear yet, she smiled at her apologetically.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ she whispered. ‘This will be over in just a second.’

Hermione gently sterilised the area with her wand and Accioed the prepared vial from its silver tray.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’m going to begin now.’
Even without looking, she could hear Malfoy’s breathing get louder, harsher, the muttered sounds of his friends comforting him. She heard him shifting in his seat.

‘Be careful, Granger - ah fuck - be careful with my daughter.’ He was panting, exhaling shakily.
Hermione lowered the needle in her hand, holding Aurora’s thigh firmly so she could administer the shot into the correct place.
Just as the needle went in and she used her thumb to depress the plunger, there was a sudden grunt of surprise, a muttered ‘oh shit.’ and then a loud thud from behind her.

‘What happened?’ She asked, unable to turn around. ‘Is everything okay?’ She completed the injection and cast the pain-relieving charm, although Aurora had already calmed after letting out one brief wail of surprise.

‘He passed out.’ Theo said as Pansy gasped Malfoy’s name.
‘The poor bastard bloody passed out!’
Hermione turned around to find Draco Malfoy out cold on the tiled hospital floor.

‘Don’t.’

Malfoy held up a hand the second Hermione entered Aurora’s room the next morning.
He was standing with Pansy, who was gazing thoughtfully down at the hospital bed, currently invisible beneath an absolutely unholy number of baby clothes spread out over the tucked white sheet.

‘Don’t say anything.’

As she held up her hands in concession, Hermione was relieved to see that Malfoy looked marginally less peaky than the day before, although his face was still pale.
Thankfully, he hadn’t injured himself when he’d fallen. She’d insisted on checking him over even though he’d been adamant that he was fine.
She quickly deduced that he hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for over twenty four hours, and that, combined with the fact that he was in the midst of one of the most stressful experiences imaginable, had contributed to his brief loss of consciousness, as well as his extreme distress at the prospect of Aurora being in pain. He’d hyperventilated to the point of no return.

She moved to the end of the bed, picking up Aurora’s notes and stealing another covert glance up at Malfoy as she did.

He’d changed his clothes, looking fresher in a pale blue fitted shirt tucked into a pair of grey tweed trousers - somehow still effortlessly elegant, despite having been in the hospital for nearly two days.

Theo was sitting on the sofa, carefully cradling Aurora, who was fast asleep in his arms, wrapped in a soft white blanket.

'Which one, Draco?' Pansy asked from his side, her tone making it clear that this wasn't the first time she'd asked.
She waved her hand over the clothes on the bed, which Hermione saw all still bore their tags.
‘I’ve brought a selection of outfits from the finest babywear brands in both the Wizarding and Muggle world, and you're telling me you can't choose a single one of them?'
Pansy flipped her hair exasperatedly, the black strands shining like silk.
She pointed a sharp red nail at the outfits closest to her. 'Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton.’ She moved through the next row, ‘we’ve got mulberry silk, cashmere, chenille...'

Malfoy bent over the bed a little. His grey eyes followed Pansy's pointing finger, his expression becoming more and more confused as she continued saying words that he clearly didn’t understand.

'This is sweet?' Pansy suggested, holding up a beige frilled smock, 'Look at the ornate lacework at the cuffs and neck.'
'Umm, Yeah. It's… nice.’ Malfoy said, sounding unsure.
'Or what about this Burberry dress?’ Pansy continued. ‘It comes with these little tights. She’d look so cute.’

Draco exhaled, running a hand exasperatedly through his hair.
‘Pans, I'm sorry. I know you went out especially to get all these, but I really don't know anything about baby clothes. It’s just…they all look a bit…’ his mouth twisted, ‘uncomfy for her. Don’t you have any of the type of thing she’s already wearing?'

Pansy looked scandalised.
'Draco! That babygrow is made of velour.’ She looked to Hermione as if expecting back-up. ‘It’s not..’ Pansy lowered her voice, ‘she can’t wear velour, darling.’
Theo sniggered from the sofa, but Malfoy looked clueless, and actually a little stressed.
Once again, Hermione could tell he was out of his comfort zone, and she hoped he wouldn’t mind her stepping in.

‘These are all beautiful.’ She said carefully, walking around the side of the bed. ‘The only problem is, newborn skin is very delicate. Dresses and tights are lovely for special occasions or to wear for a short time, but day to day, newborns are most comfortable in a little vest and babygrow. It’s much easier for changing too.’

‘Oh.’ Pansy deflated instantly, her eyes scanning over the clothes again. ‘I didn’t buy any vests.’

Malfoy put an arm around Pansy’s shoulder, flashing a grateful look at Hermione as he planted a small kiss on the top of his friend’s head. ‘It’s all lovely though, Pans,‘ he murmured. ‘Most of it looks like it will fit her perfectly in a few months.’

‘Of course.’ Pansy acquiesced, her expression softening as she looked up at him. ‘We can charm them to fit.’

‘We can.’

There was a beat of silence before Malfoy turned back to Hermione.

‘I was wondering actually…’ he swallowed hard. ‘Astoria had a bag packed, ready for when she went into labour. It had her overnight things in, some personal items and um, some baby clothes that we - that we chose.’ Hermione felt her chest tighten again.
‘Did she- bring it with her- when she-?’ He cut off, Adam’s apple working as he visibly struggled to continue speaking. Pansy and Theo were silent, the mention of Astoria sobering them all.

‘No,’ Hermione said as gently as she could. ‘I’m sorry, Draco. Astoria didn’t have anything with her when she came in.’
He nodded slowly, his eyes remaining on hers. Hermione imagined he was picturing Astoria’s panicked arrival, his mind filling the blanks.

He let out a long breath.
‘Okay, thanks.’ He swallowed again, his voice hoarse.
‘I think- I suppose that means it’s still at the manor. I- I’ll have to-‘

‘I’ll go, love.’ Pansy said, instantly knowing what Malfoy needed.
‘I’ll go right now and get you anything you need. Shall I bring all the clothes from the bag? Is there anything else?’

‘That’s great, Pans, thank you. Just bring anything you can see that’s for a newborn. But - can you - don’t bring the bag. I can’t - I don’t want to see any of-‘ he made a small, strangled sound, turning wet eyes away towards the wall.

‘I won’t,’ Pansy said softly, clearly fighting tears of her own. ‘I’ll just bring the baby things.’

Aurora had begun squirming a bit in Theo’s arms. He suddenly looked up, his expression horrified.
‘Um, Malfoy?’ He held the baby out like a bomb. ‘Something just happened.’

‘She needs changing.’ Malfoy said decisively, clearly relieved to have a distraction. He stepped forward and took Aurora from Theo, already looking much more confident in the way he handled her.

Hermione watched him change her, every movement gentle and careful, his eyes full of love as he kissed the bottoms of Aurora’s kicking feet.
He picked her up and held her afterwards, lips pressed to her velvety head. Watching them together, it was impossible to imagine that he would leave her upbringing to anyone else.

Hermione didn’t see Malfoy or Aurora for the rest of her shift. She spent several hours facilitating another difficult delivery - a breech birth with shoulder dystocia. She would forever be grateful for magical assistance in those situations, managing to deliver the baby safely without needing to resort to a cesarean section. However, by the time mother and baby were settled, she was once again well past her finishing time.

When she returned the next morning, she was surprised to enter Malfoy’s room and find Blaise Zabini sitting on the extended sofa, immaculate in a tailored black suit and waistcoat, one leg crossed over the opposite knee.
Hermione couldn’t help but notice that, like the rest of them, Blaise was unfairly beautiful.
His black hair was cropped close to his head, his skin smooth and flawless.
He smiled when he saw her, his voice a low baritone drawl.

‘Hermione Granger, long time no see.’

Malfoy didn’t greet her. He was bent over a sheaf of paperwork that was spread out between them, his face tight, eyes a steely grey behind the reading glasses he wore.
He picked up a sheet of parchment, scanning over the contents before placing it down and picking up another.
She moved into the room stiffly, glancing over several times, but Malfoy acted as though she wasn’t there.

Aurora was fast asleep in the crib next to him. Hermione noticed she had been changed into a new outfit. It was another white babygrow, but this time with a little collar, decorated with delicate pointelle and pale emerald green accents around the edges. It was soft and luxurious - clearly expensive but perfect for a newborn.

As Hermione silently completed her checks, she caught small snatches of the men’s murmured conversation - contracts, prison records, access.
Their voices were too low for her to make out anything else. As usual, Malfoy’s eyes darted up to watch her cast the diagnostics, but he didn’t speak, didn’t ask any questions. He was tense and distracted, something simmering just below the surface of a now steely exterior.

When she left, Katie was standing at the desk.
She beckoned Hermione to her, glancing around furtively.
‘The Greengrasses came.’ Katie said once she was close enough, her voice low.

‘Finally,’ Hermione breathed. ‘I heard they had trouble with their Portkey. How did it go?’

Katie pulled a face. ‘They were distraught, obviously. Mike took them to the relatives room so Chief Healer Jennings could talk to them about what happened with Astoria, and then Malfoy went in with the baby about half an hour later.’
Hermione nodded, sensing there was more.
‘He was only in there for about ten minutes, and then he came storming out and took Aurora back to their room. He looked extremely upset. Apparently, the friend who’s in there now is also his solicitor. They’ve spent the morning going over paperwork that the Greengrasses left.’

Hermione frowned.
‘What kind of paperwork?’

Katie shrugged, ‘No idea, but he is stressed.’

Hermione was kept busy for the rest of the day, unable to find out more about what was happening. At around three, she caught sight of Theo and Pansy arriving back at the hospital, their heads bent close together - even Theo looked worried. Periodically, Blaise left the room, pacing the waiting room as he spoke quietly into a Muggle mobile phone.

At five pm, she knocked on the door quietly, finding Malfoy alone.
He was fast asleep on the bed, paperwork spread out around him. His glasses dangled from one hand as he curled on his side, chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm.

He jolted as the door closed, bloodshot eyes flying open, body language defensive.
He sat up and frowned down at the papers, gathering them up quickly and shoving them into the drawer next to the bed.

But Hermione wasn’t looking at Malfoy. She was staring open-mouthed at the muted, multicoloured lights that glowed above Aurora’s head.
‘Draco!’ She hissed loudly, her mouth open in disbelief. ‘Did you... are these my observation charms?’

He said nothing, his cool gaze holding hers, unable to deny what Hermione had clearly worked out for herself.
Above Aurora’s head, the lights of the observation charms blinked obnoxiously, cast just as accurately as if she’d done them herself - one light for Aurora’s heart rate, others for her blood pressure, oxygen levels and breathing rate.

‘How did you..?’ Hermione’s mouth pressed into a thin line as she studied the flawless spellwork.
She realised now why Malfoy had studied the charms so closely, why he asked her so many questions.
He’d been dismantling the spells so he could cast them himself.

‘Draco.’ She murmured softly, her initial vexation giving way to a heartbreaking understanding.
It sank like a stone, weighing heavy in Hermione’s gut.
‘I only cast these charms because Aurora is a newborn and we’re in hospital. It’s important for me to know these things right now, but she won’t need these all the time.’

Malfoy leaned over the crib, his expression pained as he looked down at his daughter. He sighed deeply, fingers flexing on the side of the cot as he dragged his gaze up to meet hers.

‘I need them, Granger.’ He said simply.

Once again, Hermione was hit by an overwhelming wave of sympathy for Draco Malfoy.
As much as she didn’t agree with what he was doing, who was she to tell this man how to manage his anxiety? He’d learned with brutal efficiency how fragile life could be.

‘Alright.’ She said softly. ‘I understand you need them for now. But you know she really is doing well. In fact, you should probably be able to take Aurora home tomorrow.’
Grey eyes instantly flared wide. His lips parted, his hand stilling where he’d been stroking Aurora’s cheek.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yes, there are a few final things we need to do, then she’s ready to go.’

‘But she’s only a few days old. How do you know there’s definitely nothing wrong? Her birth was traumatic, she was early. She’s too small.’

‘Draco, Aurora is healthy, she’s strong. You know exactly what to do. And you won’t just be left to your own devices - for the first few weeks our community midwives will come out to visit you, they do their own checks.’

‘Are you a community Midwife?’ He asked, brow furrowed.

‘No. I’m not. Hermione explained gently. ‘I’m hospital-based. I manage the Neonatal ward.’ 

He nodded, his expression grim.
‘Right. Okay. But if anything is wrong?’

‘You can bring her back in anytime if you have concerns. Just contact the front desk. You can ask for me specifically if you like? Or…’ even as she said the words, Hermione realised she was almost certainly overstepping the boundaries of her professionalism, but she found herself saying them anyway.
‘I can give you my personal number?’

Malfoy’s gaze flickered, his eyes widening again almost imperceptibly. He didn’t respond for so long that Hermione felt like she should backtrack, but after a long, painful minute, he exhaled.

‘You’d do that?’ His eyebrows drew together. ‘For me?’

Hermione nodded. ‘For you. And for Aurora.’

Suddenly, the quiet of the room was broken again by a loud knock on the door.
Malfoy frowned, his eyes darting to where Aurora remained undisturbed, sleeping peacefully.

Hermione moved towards the door, opening it to find Mike standing there, his face red.
‘Mike, what’s going on?’ She asked.

Mike grimaced, leaning around Hermione to look at Malfoy.
‘I’m sorry to do this to you, mate.’ He said gruffly. ‘But I’ve got two Aurors in my waiting room, and they want to talk to you.’

Chapter Text

Hermione froze, turning to look at Malfoy, who had gone unnaturally still, his expression unreadable, silver eyes flinty.

The magic she’d felt earlier, just a suggestion of whatever lived beneath his immaculate exterior, pulsed again, radiating outwards from every taut inch of him. 

It was there, dampened by grief and anguish, but unmistakably potent. It crackled through the air, replacing all the oxygen in the room. 

As apprehension slithered down her spine, Hermione thought that the most worrying thing about the situation was that the version of Draco Malfoy standing in front of her at that moment was fractured - he was broken.  Malfoy’s whole life had come crashing down, and he was a part of the fallout. The magic she felt, currently carefully controlled and restrained - that magic might find one of the cracks in him and force its way out. 

A man under that much pressure had the potential to explode. 

The silence stretched out for so long that Hermione could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, a prickle of sweat breaking out along the back of her neck. 

And then finally, Malfoy blinked. 

He cleared his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing above the open collar of his blue shirt, and he shifted, stance forcibly relaxing, hands sliding into his pockets. 

Hermione exhaled slowly.

‘Right,’ he murmured, his voice quiet and level as he flicked icy grey eyes up to Mike’s face.

 ‘Did they say what it was they wanted?’ 

‘No,’ Mike replied, and Hermione realised that he felt it too. He was tense, his fingers twitching where she knew his wand was kept in a holster under his robes. 

‘They just said that it was important.’

‘And are they aware I lost my wife two days ago?’ Malfoy’s voice was cutting. 

‘I- I did tell them, mate, but they said it couldn’t wait.’

Malfoy sighed, and with it, the tension finally bled out of him a little. Hermione felt the band around her own chest loosen simultaneously. 

‘Of course they did.’ He muttered under his breath, and then louder, ‘I won’t be speaking to anyone without my solicitor present.’

Mike frowned. ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any need for that-‘, Malfoy cut him off with a disdainful glance. 

‘With all due respect, mate,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to understand what I do or do not need. Let the Aurors know I will not be speaking to them until my solicitor arrives back here. If it’s that important, they will wait.’ 

Mike’s mouth opened and closed for a moment. ‘You- want me to tell them that?’ 

‘I do.’ 

Malfoy turned away from Mike to pick up an overnight bag Hermione had only just noticed on the floor. He took out a mobile phone, the screen glowing green on his face as he powered it up and began typing.  Mike stood there a moment longer, and then, without another word, he turned, letting the door slam behind him. 

The room was silent as Malfoy typed, his long fingers moving over the buttons quickly. After a moment or two, he glanced up at her as though he’d only just remembered she was there. 

‘I’m sure you have plenty to be doing on the ward, Granger.’ He muttered, and his voice was emotionless, his face hard. 

Hermione realised that she was being dismissed. 

She ignored the flare of embarrassment that came with it, even as she felt her cheeks heat. The switch from Malfoy’s open vulnerability just moments ago painfully jarring. 

Hermione wanted to say something, to ask how she could help, but then she realised that she was doing it again.
She’d insinuated herself in someone else’s problems, taking on the emotional weight of something that was not her load to bear. 

Draco Malfoy was reliant on her to provide medical care for his baby and nothing more - he had friends and family to do the rest. Aurora was healthy, and she was already deeply loved, that much was obvious. Why was Hermione under the impression that she could do something more for the Malfoys than any other Healer? 

It was a pattern Hermione had repeated throughout her life, and one of the reasons she and Neville had broken up six months before.  She had been hyper-focused on her job, staying late, taking on extra shifts, not sleeping so that she could research new developments in Neonatal care. She took every patient into her heart so deeply that she had no room for anyone else. 

Neville had been a good boyfriend, patient and kind. He’d supported her as long as he could, trying his level best to get her to take notice of him, to realise that he also needed her. But she hadn’t seen it, hadn’t realised she was losing him until he was gone, the ties that bound them partially severed.  Neville deserved better, and he’d found it. He would always be her friend, but now he was Hannah Abbott’s fiancé.

Horrified by the sudden tears that sprang into her eyes, Hermione blinked rapidly and headed for the door, telling herself even as she did that she was being ridiculous for making any of this about her.  It was clear to see that Malfoy was almost at the end of his tether. The Aurors arriving on top of everything else was just another push in the wrong direction for a man who was desperately fighting to take some control in a situation where he had absolutely none. 

She stepped out into the corridor and smoothed her robes down, rearranging her face back into its usual business-like expression before marching back towards the reception. 

As she turned the corner, she heard the sharp crack of Apparition behind her and turned briefly to see a suited and booted Blaise Zabini striding towards Malfoy’s room, his expression murderous. 

Mike was at the desk, loitering nervously. He beckoned to her as she got closer, glancing around at the thankfully quiet waiting room. 

‘I put the Aurors in your office to wait.’ He said. ‘I hope that’s okay?’ 

‘It has to be, I suppose.’ Hermione replied, although she did agree it was the best place for them. Pregnant women didn’t need to be seeing law enforcement hanging around when they were about to give birth. 

‘What do you think they want with him?’ She asked, unable to stop herself. ‘It’s bad form coming here now, surely. The man is grieving.’ 

‘No idea,’ Mike said. ‘But they were adamant they saw him tonight. Was that his solicitor I saw arriving a moment ago? Should one of us go and get them?’ 

‘Yes, Blaise just got here.’ Hermione said. ‘But I’m going to leave this with you. My shift ended half an hour ago, and I’m ready to go home.’

Mike raised a skeptical eyebrow. ‘You aren’t going to wait and see what’s going on with Malfoy?’ 

‘No,’ Hermione insisted. ‘It’s none of my business what’s going on with Malfoy. I am here to care for Aurora only, and she is doing well. In fact, I’ll fill out her discharge paperwork before I go so that as soon as the Chief Healer signs off on it tomorrow, they can leave.’

Mike was frowning at her, his confusion evident.

‘But, I thought you were his friend. You’re the only Healer he wants near his kid, the only one of us he’s engaging with. You’re going to go now when it’s all kicking off?’ 

Hermione frowned. ‘I’m not his friend, Mike. In fact, prior to this, I was-‘ her words were cut off by the sound of her office door opening. Hermione and Mike both turned to see one of the Aurors slipping out of Hermione’s office and heading towards the desk.

He was tall and broad, rich red robes flowing behind him as he walked, shining dragonskin boots clicking on the tiles.

‘Hello, Cormac.’ Hermione said as the Auror approached the desk.

‘Hermione, how are you?’ Cormac McLaggen smiled with bright white teeth, spreading his hands over the desk. 

Hermione didn’t answer, not quite sure what she’d say. 

‘Do we have any idea how long Malfoy is going to be?’ He asked, turning his attention to Mike. ‘It’s quite urgent.’ 

Mike shrugged.‘He’s in there with his solicitor, I’ll go and knock again.’

‘Thanks.’ Cormac said to Mike’s retreating back. Mike didn’t respond, grumbling under his breath as he headed back towards the room. 

Cormac turned his gaze back to Hermione.  ‘So how’ve you been, Herms?’ He asked, blue eyes twinkling. ‘You’re looking great.’ 

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her own eyes. She was not ‘looking great.’ She looked like absolute shit. She’d barely slept in two days, was wearing no makeup, her hair was in her work braid. She was sure she looked as exhausted and emotionally drained as she felt. 

As she cast around for a suitably polite response, Mike returned, still looking pissed off. 
‘Malfoy won’t wake the baby. He said you can go to him.’ 

Cormac’s jaw tensed just a fraction, but he did nothing except smile good-naturedly and give a small shrug. 

‘No worries at all.’ He said. ‘I’ll just get my colleague and we’ll head down.’

He turned to Hermione, lowering his voice as he leaned in close. 
‘Listen. Someone from Child Protective Services will possibly be arriving relatively soon. Be a doll and keep them out here if you can. Don’t let them down to Malfoy’s room until we’re done.’ 

Hermione spluttered, the urge to hex Cormac’s bollocks off for the pet name flying out of her mind the second she processed the second thing he’d said. 

‘Wait. The DMCPS? Why?’ She gasped out, horrified. ‘For Aurora?’ 

Cormac’s eyes narrowed a little at her reaction, surprise flashing over his features. He recovered quickly, waving a hand airily.

‘It’s not a concern.’ He said. ‘Just distract her, please.’ And then he turned away, disappearing into her office before returning with his colleague, a man she didn’t recognise. 

They strode down the corridor towards where Mike was, muttering in low voices. 

Hermione stared after them, her heart pounding. What was happening? Why were the DMCPS coming, and why were there  Aurors on a maternity ward? 

All around her, the hustle and bustle of the hospital continued, her colleagues unaware of the quiet drama playing out in the Malfoy’s room, unaware of Hermione’s own crisis. 

She knew that Child Protective Services only came for one reason.  She thought back to what Katie had said about the Greengrasses, thought about her warnings to Malfoy about Ernie. 

There were several things that could have happened, and none of them were good. 

Hermione felt sick. They couldn’t be trying to take Aurora from Malfoy, could they?

Was that what he was expecting? Why he’d insisted on having his solicitor present?  

She thought about the love in Malfoy’s eyes when he looked at his baby, how distraught he was at Astoria’s loss. 

Hermione barely knew Draco Malfoy, and she had no idea how he’d spent the last ten years, but the past few days were enough to tell her two things without a shadow of a doubt. 

Malfoy was not the same person he once was. There was no evidence of the arrogant, bigoted boy she had known in school. He was quiet and respectful, clearly loved by his friends, and above all, he was a deeply devoted father. 

Draco Malfoy’s very soul was tied to his daughter. If they took her from him… Hermione didn’t want to think of the possible repercussions. 

Theo’s words from the day before rose in her mind, bringing with them a fresh wave of unease.  
Lucius Malfoy had killed himself - that was well known. But Theo had insinuated that Draco himself had also come close. Hermione didn’t need to know Malfoy to know that losing Aurora on top of Astoria would finish him.

This could not happen. 

The next half an hour passed painfully slowly. Hermione managed to maintain some semblance of normality, greeting Danielle when she came in for her shift, delegating jobs to the other Healers, desperately grateful that they only had three patients on the ward and just one in active labour.  
Her eyes continually darted between Malfoy’s room and the double doors of the ward entrance. 

There was one thing that could be a potential blessing. If the response was as slow as any of the others she’d witnessed, the DMCPS wouldn’t be too quick off the mark.  Like the hospital, they were woefully underfunded and understaffed. They simply didn’t have the personnel available to send someone out at a moment’s notice.

Hermione thought she might pass out with relief when she heard the click of the hospital room door opening another half an hour later. She watched as covertly as she could as McLaggen’s colleague stepped out first, closely followed by Cormac. 

Cormac paused at the door, shaking Blaise’s hand and then speaking to Malfoy, who followed him out, resting a palm on the door jamb.
Their conversation seemed civil enough, Hermione thought. In fact, Malfoy looked considerably less tense than when she’d left him.

She was shocked to see Cormac smiling warmly and laughing at something Malfoy said, and she almost fell down when she saw the two men shake hands before Cormac pulled Malfoy into a brief, one-armed hug, the other hand patting Malfoy on the back as he murmured something into his ear. Draco nodded and patted Cormac on the back in return. 

Both men looked up at her then, and Hermione quickly cut her eyes away, flushing with embarrassment at her own nosiness. She quickly busied herself with her paperwork, not looking up as Cormac approached the desk again. 

‘We’ll be off now.’ He said. ‘Any sign of the DMCPS?’ 

Hermione shook her head. 

‘They’ll be here soon,’ he continued. ‘They’re going to want reports on Malfoy’s behaviour. Draco said you’re the Healer in charge of his baby’s care?’

‘Yes, mostly,’ Hermione agreed. ‘I was with them the night Aurora was born.’

‘And? How do you think he’s coping so far?’ 

Hermione raised her chin defensively.

‘He’s been incredible.’ She said truthfully. ‘Even with all that he’s going through, he has prioritised Aurora’s care over everything else. He is a very loving father.’

Cormac said nothing for a moment. His eyes moved over her face, her tense shoulders, down to her fist tightly clenched around her quill. 

‘And in your professional opinion, Hermione, do you think Draco Malfoy is stable enough to look after his child alone?’ 

Hermione paused. Cormac held her gaze, raising his eyebrows in question, but Hermione didn’t sense that he was trying to catch her out. His body language was open, his expression interested.

She thought back to Malfoy’s brief panic attacks, his fight to keep himself in control when Aurora cried, the painfully obvious depth of his grief.
Was Draco Malfoy exceedingly fragile? Yes. But did she think he could look after Aurora? 

Absolutely. 

‘I do.’ She said eventually. ‘With support from his friends and family, obviously. The hospital has procedures for this kind of thing - The family will be receiving additional visits from us due to the circumstances of their situation. From what I’ve seen, Malfoy is very involved with Aurora’s care, very willing to learn. I think he will be an excellent father.’

Hermione’s heart was pounding as she answered, hoping desperately that what she was saying was true. 

She wanted it to be true. 

Draco and Aurora would need each other in order to overcome Astoria’s loss - separating them was the worst thing that could happen. 

She forced herself to hold Cormac’s eye, hoping that nothing but conviction showed on her face. Cormac nodded slowly, smiling a little sadly at her.

‘Good.’ He said quietly. ‘Good. I’m glad. I’ve worked with Malfoy several times when he’s freelanced for us as a cursebreaker. I actually think he’s a pretty decent bloke these days. He doesn’t deserve this.’ 

Hermione shook her head. ‘No one does.’ 

She swallowed, suddenly afraid she might cry again and wishing she could separate her emotions a little more. She felt like she was flayed raw by just witnessing Malfoy struggle. She couldn’t imagine how he was actually feeling underneath his controlled facade. 

‘So,’ Cormac said, as his colleague approached. ‘You get this recorded officially on paper. Make sure you include everything you just told me, yeah? Ensure Child Services know there is a support network in place, that you believe he is capable of looking after his own child.’

Hermione peered up at McLaggen, finding a newfound respect for him that she could never have imagined having back at school. 

‘I will.’ She breathed. ‘Thank you, Cormac.’ 

He smiled then, his tongue running over his teeth as, in a true revert to type, he flashed her a salacious wink. 

‘No worries, sweetheart. Hopefully catch you soon.’

And with that, he immediately Apparated away, grinning widely as he went.

Hermione huffed indignantly, frowning at the space where Cormac had just been. Sweetheart? Doll? Who the bloody hell did he think he was?

She glanced up, pausing when she saw Malfoy still standing outside the hospital room, his mouth twisting as he appeared to be considering something. He ran a hand through his hair, twitching forward slightly as though he was going to come towards her.  
Suddenly, a piercing cry came from behind him, and his head jerked back as Aurora started to wail. Malfoy turned at once, everything other than his daughter immediately forgotten. He disappeared into the room, the door snicking shut behind him.

Hermione stood for a moment at the desk, just needing to gather herself after the events of the evening. Despite her exhaustion, she knew she couldn’t go home. She had to be the one to write the report. Ever the control freak, Hermione didn’t trust anyone else to get it right. She also wanted to be there if an agent arrived, heaven forbid they spoke to Ernie instead. 

With a deep, worn-out sigh, she left to go and find Mike who was just finishing ward rounds, pulling the curtain back around an expectant mother who was in for observation. She let him know that she would be in her office for the duration of the night, that she wasn’t officially on shift, but if anyone came from the CPS to summon her immediately. It was a testament to who she was as a person that Mike didn’t even question it. Instead, he gave her a knowing look. This wasn’t the first time Hermione had slept in her office, it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you immediately if they come.’ She placed a hand on his arm in tired thanks and then made her way to her office, locking the door behind her. 

She sat behind her small desk, fished her mobile from the drawer and typed out a quick message to Harry letting him know she wasn’t coming home. Then she took out a fresh sheet of parchment and picked up her quill from her ink pot. 

Hermione began to write.  

It was around an hour later when she was disturbed by a tentative knock on the door. 

Hermione inhaled sharply, grabbing her wand from where she’d left it on her desk. She ran it over her hair and robes to smooth them. A quick freshening charm later, and she was ready, unlocking the door to find Mike standing there.

‘They’re here.’ He said. ‘They’re asking for one of us to sit in on the meeting with Malfoy.’

Hermione took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I’m ready.’ 

The ward was quiet, the light dimmed as Hermione made her way down the corridor, clutching her report. The heels of her shoes clicked on the tiles as her robes bustled at her feet. 

When she got to the room, she knocked and entered, finding an absolutely drained-looking Malfoy sitting on the transfigured sofa, giving Aurora a bottle. He had changed again, this time into a soft-looking grey round neck sweater over a white shirt. Aurora was wrapped in a knitted blanket, wearing a little striped baby-grow. 

Blaise stood behind Malfoy, his back pressed to the wall, one leg bent to push the sole of his pointed leather shoe against it. He also looked exhausted, brown eyes bloodshot and glassy. 

Sitting on a plastic chair opposite Malfoy was a small, mousy-haired woman clad in loose-fitting beige robes. She had a notebook and quill in her hand, her watery blue eyes darting to Hermione as she entered, her nerves immediately apparent.

‘Good evening.’ Hermione said. ‘I’m Chief Mediwitch Hermione Granger. I run the Neonatal ward, and I’ve been in charge of the Malfoy family's care over the last few days.’

‘Oh, hello, Miss Granger. Thank you for your time.’ The woman said tremulously. ‘My name is Delith Thomas. I was just explaining the purpose of my visit to Mr Zabini and Mr Malfoy.’

Hermione nodded, waiting for her to go on. 

‘As you know, I’m from the Department of Magical Child Protective Services.’ She cleared her throat delicately. ‘Our job is to ensure that all children within our jurisdiction are living in a safe environment and that the adults in charge of their care are able to look after them competently.’

Hermione’s eyes darted to Malfoy. He was still feeding Aurora, outwardly calm, but there was a tremor in his hand, his fingers clutching the bottle so tightly his knuckles were white. 

‘Now, Mr Malfoy. I’d like to start, first and foremost, by saying how sorry I am for your loss. The death of a spouse is no easy thing, particularly at such a momentous time.’

Malfoy twitched, his nostrils flaring. He managed the briefest nod, not looking at Delith or anyone else. Behind him, Blaise shifted slightly, his stance belaying his irritation. 

‘At the DMCPS, our priority is keeping families together. We have no interest in separating you from your baby unless we absolutely have to.’ Malfoy’s eyes flickered up to Delith’s face just briefly at that, then back down to Aurora. 

She had finished her bottle now and was beginning to squirm a little. He placed the bottle down on the arm of the sofa and then gently lifted her onto his shoulder where he had a small muslin square already draped. He began patting Aurora’s back, wiping her mouth delicately with the corner of the cloth as he murmured things only Aurora could hear.
Aurora didn’t settle, her little body twisting as she began to grumble.  
Malfoy stood, unfolding his long body from the sofa and pacing slowly, rubbing his hand up and down her back until she calmed, then he cupped the back of her head in one palm, his thumb stroking her downy hair in a comforting rhythm.  

‘Please, continue.’ He said crisply. 

‘As I said, Mr Malfoy. As Aurora’s father, you have automatic parental rights. First and foremost, that is the current situation.’

Malfoy’s relief was palpable, his features softening just barely.

‘However.’ 

A sharp inhale of breath. 

‘We have received documentation from your late wife’s family, which raises some potential concerns around your capability in raising Aurora alone.’

Hermione felt her stomach revolt, an icy trepidation beginning to seep through her. Malfoy barely reacted other than to give a small nod. 

He already knew. 

He already knew that his in-laws were doing this to him. 

Now. When he was already going through so much.

Hermione felt sick with rage on his behalf.

‘Now, this is coming from a place of love, of course. They made that clear in their correspondence. They just want what’s best for their granddaughter.  
The Greengrasses have made it clear they have no intention of obtaining a court order at this point. However, they are looking into their options as to how they can secure guaranteed, regular access to Aurora.’

Malfoy smirked, not a hint of humour in it. 

‘A place of love.’ He muttered. ‘Right.’

‘The Greengrasses don’t have a leg to stand on.’ Blaise put in. ‘Regardless of what they want, the legislation is crystal clear. Draco is her father, and he is more than capable. Any access they will have to Aurora will be decided solely by him.’

‘That is technically correct.’ Delith agreed. ‘However, I am duty-bound to make you aware that certain red flags have been triggered as far as our responsibility to Aurora’s care goes.’ 

‘What does that mean?’ Malfoy asked, his arms tightening around his baby. The hitch in his chest was barely noticeable, but his voice was strained, his jaw tensed. 

Blaise moved from the wall to stand at Malfoy’s side, his brown eyes suddenly razor sharp. 

The CPS agent glanced at Hermione briefly. 

‘For your confidentiality, we won’t go into details now, Mr Malfoy. Suffice to say that certain events in your past do make you, and by extension, Aurora, vulnerable. Do you still see a Mind Healer?’

Malfoy paled, and Blaise’s eyes snapped to his face, a small line between his eyebrows. 

‘No,’ Malfoy replied. ‘I- I haven’t needed to for some time.’ 

‘Well, we’re going to require that you do now. Regularly. The Ministry will provide you with a designated Healer, specifically trained in bereavement support.‘

Malfoy didn’t look up, his jaw working, his pulse thrumming in the side of his neck. He nodded sharply. 

‘We will be conducting interviews with hospital staff and collecting their reports. We will also be making regular home visits at random. We need to check that Aurora is being raised in a suitable environment.’

Blaise scoffed quietly, but Malfoy remained calm, inscrutable. 

‘That’s fine.’ He replied, sounding exhausted.

‘Do you have any support? Family? Friends?’ Delith asked, her voice gentle.

‘Yes,’ Malfoy replied. ‘Friends, no family.’

Hermione frowned. No family? Where was Narcissa?

‘I have already arranged to stay with a friend so that I can get some help. He owns a penthouse apartment close by.‘ 

‘That’s great.’ Delith said encouragingly. ‘It’s very good that you will have support, especially in these first few sleepless weeks and with so much to organise. But don’t you think it might be better to start as you mean to go on? Maybe see if the friend will stay with you instead? Get Aurora used to her own house?’ 

Malfoy shook his head vehemently.

‘I - I can’t - I’m not ready to return home at present.’

Delith seemed to catch on and nodded, pulling a sympathetic face.

‘Alright,’ she said softly. ‘That’s fine. I understand. You’ll need to give me your current address before I leave. I believe you have already had a visit from the Aurors?’

Malfoy nodded brusquely. ‘Yes. They’ve been. Although I’m still at a loss to understand why an Auror visit was deemed necessary two days after the death of my wife.’

‘I’m so sorry about that.’ Delith replied. ‘It’s procedure when a concern has been raised. Particularly for someone with your… background.’ She pursed her lips slightly, her eyes subconsciously drifting to Malfoy’s covered forearm. 

‘However, the Aurors found nothing of concern. Their report indicates that they believe you pose no risk to Aurora.’

At that moment, Hermione really thought Malfoy was going to break. His composure slipped, just momentarily. He looked like he might either spontaneously combust or completely fall apart. 

‘No,’ he murmured through a tightly clenched jaw. ‘I do not pose a risk to my daughter.’

Blaise stepped forward, putting a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder and squeezing. Either in warning or as comfort. Hermione thought maybe it was both. 

‘Miss Granger. Can you also provide a report, please? I’m sure you’ve written plenty of these before. We need your professional input to add to our file for this case.’ 

‘I already have it.’ Hermione said, her hand shaking as she passed over the parchment.

‘It states here that I fully believe that Mr Malfoy is more than capable of looking after his daughter. He has demonstrated nothing but competency with regard to her care. He has been loving and involved. Even whilst processing his loss, Mr Malfoy has prioritised Aurora’s wellbeing above everything else. There is no question in my mind that she will be doted upon by her father and that he can provide everything Aurora needs and more.’ 

Hermione took a deep breath, the strain of keeping her voice level and calm stretching the limits of her capabilities. 

She chanced a glance over at Malfoy. He was staring at her, his eyes wide and stormy, his lips pressed tightly together. Hermione was heartbroken to see that there was a hint of dampness on his lashes. 

Delith peered down at the parchment filled with Hermione’s small, compact script, her pale blue eyes widening slightly.

‘This is…very detailed. Thank you.’ Hermione nodded, clasping her hands together and pressing them between her knees. 

‘Okay.’ Delith said, rising to stand. ‘This is all I need for tonight. Mr Malfoy, you’re free to take Aurora home when the hospital discharges her. We will contact you to arrange a home visit in the next few days. Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry this had to be done during such difficult circumstances.’

Malfoy didn’t respond. His chest was hitching a little more now - something Hermione was quickly becoming able to recognise as a sign that he was barely holding on, even when he tried his best to hide it. 

‘Thank you.’ Blaise said, stepping forward to usher Delith out. He towered above the tiny woman, quiet fury coming off him in waves, although he managed to maintain a polite, gentlemanly facade. 

Delith looked relieved as she stepped out of the room, breathing in air that wasn’t full of despair and magic and tightly restrained anger. 

Blaise said nothing as he swung the door shut, but Hermione didn’t miss the silencing charm he cast on the room. 

‘Dray.’ He took a step towards Malfoy, who was now hunched over slightly on the couch,  Aurora snuggled tightly in the crook of one arm, his face tipped down to hers so that only the top of his tousled blonde head was visible.

‘Draco.’ Blaise said again, his voice cracking slightly, his expression pained. Malfoy held up a hand without looking up, and Hermione realised with horror that his shoulders were shaking, his entire body suddenly spasming as one small, anguished sob forced it’s way up from his chest and she watched two fat tears fall from his lashes to land on Aurora’s blanket, soaking the soft wool.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ Blaise murmured. He was at Malfoy’s side in an instant, one hand on his trembling knee.

‘Dray, it’s all gonna be alright.’ He soothed. ‘Nothing is going to happen. They - those fucking cunts. They can’t do anything, okay? They can’t take her from you. They have no legal rights, no viable reason.’

Malfoy didn't or couldn’t respond, completely overcome with emotion as he clutched his baby and rocked back and forth, his body wracked with the force of his pain. Blaise wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the fingers of the other flexing on his knee as Malfoy let go of everything he’d been holding in all night.

‘Bla-Blaise,’ he gasped out. ‘What the fuck is happening? This has to be a dream, right? I’m going to wake up, and Astoria will be here and none of this will be true… we.. we will be a family, back at the manor and no one will be trying to take my baby away…’ His chest heaved again, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts. ‘Blaise,’ he said again. ‘Please, tell me. Tell me this isn’t real.. I can’t.. I can’t.’ 

Blaise squeezed his eyes shut. He said nothing because he couldn’t.
This was real.
This was the situation, and nothing anyone did could change it. 

Hermione watched them for a moment, sorrow and sympathy freezing her to the spot. It took her a moment to realise that she was staring, and Malfoy probably wouldn’t want her there, witnessing him come undone so completely.

She rose to stand, but Malfoy shot out a hand. 

‘Granger... Don’t go.’ He muttered. He dashed at his eyes before looking up at her. ‘I’m okay. I don’t want you to go. I need to- thank you so much for that report. You didn’t need to-‘ 

Hermione shook her head. ‘I did need to, Draco. And I meant every word. I can't believe they are doing this to you, especially now.’ 

Malfoy let out a shuddering breath. ‘They haven’t even seen Astoria for months, they barely ever come back from France.’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘But when they have come to visit, things have always been civil. I mean.. even after my family’s…downfall, my sentencing.. they still supported the betrothal, encouraged it in fact. The Malfoy vault was a motivating factor, I’m sure.’ He added bitterly. ‘But I never thought… I didn’t think they’d do this. Never this.’  

He dragged a hand down his face. ‘Astoria would be devastated if she knew.’ 

‘Bastards.’ Blaise muttered again. ‘I want to kill them. I can’t even fathom how much you must want to.’ 

Malfoy’s eyes flashed briefly, but he just shook his head. ‘I can’t get angry about it now.’ He said. ‘If I let myself -  if I lose control, I’m just giving them what they want. It’s what everyone expects me to do -  what I’ve always done. But it’s not about me now. Aurora is the priority.’

‘Good man.’ Blaise said again, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘You’re right of course.’ 

Hermione thought, however, that despite his words, Blaise still looked very much in support of the murder option instead.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment while Malfoy slowly got himself under control, his breathing slowly but surely evening out again, his face returning to its normal colour. 

‘I’m just going to head out and make some calls.’ Blaise said after a few minutes. ‘I’ll let Pansy and Theo know that everything is alright. Pans is having an absolute conniption, she’s text me about thirty times. I’ll get you a cup of coffee, okay?’

Malfoy grimaced slightly but nodded. He waited until Blaise left, then looked back at Hermione. 

‘Do you still think I’ll be able to take Aurora out of here tomorrow? Even with all this going on?’ 

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘You’re ready. Aurora’s ready.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Fuck, I’m absolutely shitting myself, Granger.’ He admitted, and she could hear the trepidation in his voice. ‘But I can’t say I’m not looking forward to sleeping in a real bed. And getting a decent cup of coffee.’ 

‘Food too.’ Hermione reminded him. ‘You need to eat more. You need to keep your own strength up too, not just Aurora’s.’ 

‘Yeah. I will. I just…’ he pulled a face. ‘The food here is..’ 

Hermione laughed. ‘Understandable.’

‘You’ll be here to see us off tomorrow?’ He asked, his voice tentative. ‘I know I keep asking a lot of you. It’s just… you’ve made this fucking awful time so much more bearable. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.’ 

‘As if I wouldn’t be here.’ Hermione said with a soft smile. ‘I’ll make sure you’re set up with everything to go home. I’ll be needing another cuddle with Aurora before you leave, too.’ 

Malfoy smiled suddenly, and it was beautiful. It made Hermione’s heart squeeze to see that, despite everything, there was still the smallest light in his eyes, the barest hint of dimples appearing on his cheeks. 

‘Keep it a secret, but she told me you’re her favourite Healer too, even though you jabbed her with a massive needle.’

‘Oh, she said that, did she?’ Hermione laughed. ‘Well then, Aurora is clearly a smart girl already.’

‘That goes without saying.’ Malfoy said, glancing down at his daughter adoringly. ‘She definitely doesn’t get it from me.’

Hermione raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the observation charms. 

‘She’s lucky to have you.’ She said quietly. ‘I truly believe that.’ 

Malfoy’s smile flickered, just slightly. ‘I hope so, Granger. You seem to have a lot more faith in me not to balls this up than I do.’

‘You will be fine.’ Hermione sat back, exhaustion hitting her full force once again. ‘See you in the morning?’ She asked, rising to stand. 

‘Yeah.’ Malfoy said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He stood up from the couch, walking with her to stand at the door.

‘And Granger,’ he seemed to be struggling with something as he pressed down the handle and opened the door a fraction. ‘I need to say this. Even though I know we’re probably way past due and it means very little now. But I am - I’m sorry, for everything I did to you in school. The things I said, the way I acted. I’m so utterly ashamed of it all -‘

‘Draco.’ Hermione said. ‘There’s no need. It’s all in the past. And truthfully, from what I’ve seen over these last few days, you’re nothing like the person I thought you were in school.’

He barked out a surprised laugh. ‘Well thank fuck for that.’ He breathed.‘That means a lot.’ 

Hermione stepped out into the corridor and, with a small wave, she began walking away, dragging her feet with the heaviness of her exhaustion. 

‘For the record, Granger,’ Malfoy said softly, and she turned around to look at him, standing in the doorway, tall and pale, his baby cradled protectively in his arms. 

‘You’re everything I thought you were.’  

Selbindery Instagram

Chapter Text

Hermione remained standing in the corridor long  after Malfoy shut the door,  her fatigued mind desperately trying to process the last words he’d said. 

What… had he thought she was? 

During their time in school, he’d told her she was annoying, told her that her hair was bushy, and her teeth were too big. He’d called her dirty, called her a Mudblood. Her left arm prickled under her robes, but Hermione barely noticed it. 

Because Malfoy hadn’t been talking about any of those things.

He’d said the words with soft eyes and a gentle smile, as though he was paying her a compliment. He’d apologised for the things he’d said, so what had he thought? Was it something else?

It was as though she had short-circuited, her brain unable to get her feet to move until she’d sorted through her jumble of exhausted emotions. 

‘Hermione? Are you okay?’ 

She blinked, pulled from her stupor by Danielle, who was inexplicably standing right next to her, staring into her face with a concerned expression, one hand reaching out as if to steady her. 

‘Oh, yes. Sorry.’ Hermione replied, forcing herself to smile reassuringly, although truthfully she felt a little woozy.

‘I think…I’m just really, really tired.’

‘Yes, well, you’ve worked some pretty gnarly hours this week, even for you.’ Danielle murmured, her hand still hovering between them. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘No. You’re right.’ Hermione replied, and she allowed Danielle to rest a hand on her lower back and guide her as they made their way towards the front desk. ‘I need to go home.’

‘Healer Granger?’ She looked up to see one of the Mediwitches from Triage heading their way, her face grim and a fat scroll of Maternity notes clutched in one hand. 

‘No.’ Danielle hissed, a warning in her tone. ‘I’ll deal with it. You need to go before you fall over.’ 

Hermione dithered for a minute, but Danielle glared at her, her usually kind brown eyes narrowed ferociously. Hermione gave in - Danielle was more than capable of dealing with whatever the situation was. 

‘Alright,’ she said weakly. ‘I’ll go.’ 

‘Good. Go get some rest. It’s all under control.’ 

Danielle gave her hand a small squeeze and then marched down the corridor towards the Mediwitch, long braids flying out behind her. 

Hermione didn’t hang around any longer. She’d now been at the hospital for sixteen hours, and she was coming back in another ten. She grabbed her things from her office and headed immediately back out towards the Floos, thankful that no one else accosted her on her way through.

As she walked through the main foyer, she caught sight of Blaise, impossible to miss in his sharply cut suit among the other rumpled late-night patrons of the St Mungo’s hospital cafe. He was paying for two coffees, his phone pressed between his jaw and his shoulder as he murmured quietly into it.  
She waved as she passed, and he held up a hand to indicate she should wait, quickly putting down a handful of galleons and hanging up the phone before jogging over, coffees in hand.

‘Hermione, I’m glad I caught you. I’ll be quick, don’t worry. I can see you need to get out of here.’ 

‘It’s okay.’ She replied. ‘Everything alright?’

‘Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to - needed to - thank you for what you did for Malfoy in there. The fact that you’ve gone out of your way for him, even with the history you two have. I know it means a lot to Draco. He’s incredibly grateful. We all are.’ 

‘Oh,’ Hermione breathed, moved once again by how loved Malfoy was by his friends. ‘Of course. It’s my job.’ 

‘He said you keep saying that.’ Blaise grinned. ‘But we both know you could have asked someone else to deal with Aurora’s aftercare, and you didn’t need to take the time to write such a detailed report in support of him.’

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth and closed it again, swaying slightly on her feet. 

‘I’d better get back to him,’ Blaise said. ‘And you look like you desperately need some rest. But just know, you did something incredible tonight, Granger. In fact… I think you might have even saved my friend’s life.’ He swallowed thickly and then smiled again, although it looked a little wobbly. 

‘I’ll see you soon.’ 

Blaise turned and headed back towards Malfoy’s room, striding purposefully up the corridor, his wand sticking up out of one back pocket, his phone pushed into the other. Hermione watched him go, tears burning in her tired eyes once again. 

She didn’t think she’d ever been as wrung out as she was after getting back from the hospital that night. Even with all the difficult deliveries she’d overseen, the struggling mothers she had guided through the trials of the first few hours and days - she’d never allowed herself to become quite so emotionally depleted.

The flat was quiet when Hermione let herself in. Harry’s bedroom door yawned wide open, indicating he wasn’t home yet. She remembered him mentioning he had a date that night and could only assume it had gone well.  
She debated going to bed on an empty stomach but knew it would just wake her earlier, so she made her way sluggishly to the kitchen, finding what she needed for a cheese salad sandwich and laying it all out on the counter. 

The sound of muttering from the hallway a moment later alerted her to Harry’s return, along with a light tug on the flat’s wards. Hermione glanced up from the tomato she’d been slicing to look at the glowing light on the front of the cooker - the date had definitely gone well then.
Harry stumbled in through the door, his eyes bloodshot, shirt unbuttoned to his sternum under his coat, his hair a wild halo around his head. Hermione’s eyes widened at the violent purple lovebites creeping up his throat. 

‘Mione,’ he slurred with a tired smile. ‘You’re home. I thought you were staying at the hospital?’

He yanked off his coat and dragged himself to the couch, flopping onto it with a groan before stretching out, his feet dangling over the arm.

‘I didn’t need to in the end,’ Hermione replied. ‘Hopefully, the problem is resolved for now. Sandwich?’ 

‘Mmm, yeah,’ Harry groaned appreciatively. ‘That sounds perfect. Need any help?’

‘Not from you.’ She retorted. ‘You’d end up chopping your fingers off. I can smell the alcohol on you from here.’

‘Fair enough. I’m absolutely bloody shitfaced.’

‘Harry!’ Hermione admonished. ‘Don’t you have work tomorrow?’ 

‘Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m a stupid man. I should have come home earlier, I know.’

‘It was a good date, then?’ 

‘Awful, actually. It’s why I ended up drinking so much. I was trying to trick myself into thinking the crap he was droning on about was halfway interesting.’

Hermione pulled a sympathetic grimace as she put the two thick sandwiches she’d made onto plates and made her way to the sofa, nudging Harry’s thigh with her knee until he cracked open one eye and moved for her, sitting up with a groan and pinching the bridge of his nose below his glasses. 

‘Fuck. I’m going to regret tonight so much in the morning.’ He took a huge bite of the sandwich she handed him, tearing off a rough chunk like an animal, his drunkenness even more apparent up close.

‘Mmm… this is… delicious.. thanks.’ He muttered between ravenous bites, and Hermione had to laugh. Harry declared that every sandwich she made was delicious, but that was because they were the only thing she ever made.  
Hermione had many talents, but cooking was not one of them.  
Harry, however, was an excellent cook, a leftover skill from his childhood where he’d been forced to cook for the Dursleys, and so that was one job she mostly left up to him.  
Her sandwiches were pretty good though, she had to admit, biting gratefully into her own. 

They sat in silence for a moment, both of their eyes half shut with exhaustion as they chewed.

‘How were Malfoy and Aurora today?’ Harry asked eventually, putting his empty plate on the coffee table and sagging sideways, resting his head on her shoulder. 

‘Ugh, I can’t talk about it now, I’ll get upset again.’ She replied, running her fingers absently through Harry’s tangled waves. 

‘But the short version is, they sent Aurors to the hospital, Cormac McLaggen and someone else I didn’t recognise, and then after that, the DMCPS.’

Harry sat up a bit, turning to look at the side of her face. ‘They did? Why? What did Malfoy do?’

‘He - nothing.’ Hermione replied. ‘You’re too drunk, and it’s too late for me to tell you now. But it’s all mostly okay, I think. I’m going to see them off at the hospital tomorrow.’ 

She felt, rather than saw Harry’s surprise, his body stiffening slightly.

‘You are?’ 

‘Yes. I want to make sure the baby is okay and ready to be discharged.’ Hermione replied, ignoring the fact that it was only half the truth.  
She finished her sandwich and let her plate rest on her thighs, dropping her head onto the top of Harry’s.
‘So… the date was crap, but your neck looks like you got attacked by the giant squid?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Harry replied with a small, huffed laugh. ‘Those are from my date’s hot friend. Snuck off to the toilet in the Leaky for a quick bit of privacy and left him at the bar.’

‘Harry James!’ Hermione gasped. ‘You’re a menace.’ 

Harry laughed again. ‘I fell onto his mouth. It was an accident, I swear.’ 

She smacked him on the arm as he looked up at her, grinning. ‘You do love me though, don’t you, Mi?’ 

‘I do, unfortunately,’ she admitted with an exaggerated sigh before pushing gently at Harry’s shoulder. 

 ‘Right, off. I need to get to bed, and so do you.’

He groaned again, but heaved himself up, levitating their plates to the sink somewhat wonkily and then planting a kiss on her cheek before heading towards his room.

‘What time are you leaving for Mungo’s in the morning?’ He asked, leaning on the doorframe. 

‘Nine. What about you?’ 

‘Same. Wake me for breakfast and you can fill me in on all the Malfoy drama.’

‘Will do,’ Hermione replied. ‘Love you, Harry.’

‘Love you.’ 

They both went into their separate bedrooms, and Hermione could only assume Harry immediately collapsed into bed, judging by the heavy snoring that came through the walls mere moments later. 

She cast a silencing charm before brushing her teeth and crawling into her own bed, yawning as her head hit the pillow. 

Despite her weariness, her brain was still buzzy, Malfoy’s words echoing in her ears. 

‘You’re everything I thought you were.’ 

She ruminated over the words fruitlessly before she was too tired to try and understand them any longer and finally fell into a deep, black sleep.

The next morning, surprisingly, it was Harry who woke her, not the other way around. His Stag Patronus appeared in her  bedroom, his voice breaking through the deep pit of exhaustion she still found herself in.

‘Guessing you can’t hear me knocking. Breakfast is on the table.’

Hermione groaned, pulling the blanket over her head for a minute more before throwing it back and forcing herself to get up. She pulled on some tartan pyjama bottoms and a red top and opened the door, the smell of coffee and food immediately sharpening her senses. 

She gratefully sank into a seat at their small kitchen table and allowed Harry to present her with a mug of coffee and a huge veggie breakfast complete with beans, toast and fried eggs. 

‘Thanks… Jesus, Harry,’ she mumbled through her first mouthful, motioning to the plate he set down for himself. ‘Could you have fit any more food on there?’ 

‘It’s soaking up the alcohol.’ He replied, taking a noisy slurp of his tea. ‘We’ve run out of hangover potion.’ 

‘That’s because I can’t keep up with your demand,’ 

Harry raised his eyebrows, smirking.

‘Excuse me, Mi, but I think you’ll find it was you with your head in the toilet last time Ginny came home.’ 

Hermione couldn’t even deny it. She wasn’t a big drinker and definitely couldn’t keep up with Ginny Weasley, who could drink most men they knew under the table. She and Ginny had gone to Hogsmeade on a ‘girls day’ and Hermione had thrown up in the flowers outside the train station less than two hours in. Ginny had brought her home and she and Harry had rubbed Hermione’s back and done a crap job of hiding their laughter while she hugged the toilet and swore she was never drinking again.

‘So,’ Harry said, lifting his glasses and grinding the heel of his palm into bleary green eyes.

‘Tell me what happened yesterday.’

Hermione took a deep breath and, in between mouthfuls of toast and large, fortifying sips of coffee, she filled him in on the entire day. 

‘Barnaby Billings is Cormac’s partner,’ he informed her. ‘He’s a pretty nice guy. I’ve met him a few times, different department obviously.’

‘Have you ever worked with Malfoy?’ Hermione asked. ‘Cormac said that he’s worked with him several times.’ 

‘Just the once.’ Harry replied. ‘He came to help with a cursed house where we suspected some missing girls were being hidden. We kept our distance from each other to be honest, but I’ll tell you one thing, Mione, Draco Malfoy is a surprisingly powerful wizard.  
I don’t know what kind of shit they were teaching him in his Death Eater days but his knowledge of Dark Magic and curses is second to none. It’s why Kingsley still hires Malfoy, even with all the controversy around him - there’s simply no one better.’

Hermione nodded her head. ‘I can tell. I can feel the magic coming off him. Also, he dismantled my newborn observation charms in a day and a half, just by watching me cast them. The basic version of those charms took me weeks to learn, and I’ve been perfecting and adding to them for years.’

Harry laughed. ‘Oh, I bet that went down well.’ He said.  
‘Your academic rivalry from school back to rear its ugly head, hey?’ 

‘No,’ Hermione blurted, a little too quickly. ‘It’s impressive, that’s all. Especially seeing as he’s the got so much else going on.’ 

‘Well, that’s his speciality, isn’t it.’ Harry said. ‘He’s a cursebreaker. He literally pulls apart spells and curses for a living.’ 

‘He doesn’t need to work, though, does he? Heir to the Malfoy millions and all that.’

‘I got the impression from Kingsley that he doesn’t need to, he just wants to.’ Harry said, shrugging. ‘He’s tried hard to shake off his reputation since he got out of Azkaban. I guess it’s his way of helping undo some of the shit he was part of.’ 

‘I suppose that’s all he can do, now.’ Hermione mused. 

‘People will never let him forget, though, Mione. The tattoos on his neck and arm are pretty damning and he can’t even glamour them away. He’s marked for life even if he has changed his views.’

‘We’ve moved on, though, haven’t we?’ Hermione felt her defensiveness rising again as Harry echoed what Ernie had said, although it was without the same vitriol.

‘It was twelve years ago, Harry. I thought we were all working to put the war behind us.’ 

‘We have.’ Harry replied. ‘Those of us who know better realise that people like Draco Malfoy had very little choice but to bow to Voldemort’s demands. But the facts are the facts, and a lot of people lost family members in that war. That’s a hard thing to move on from.’

A silence fell, both of them thinking as they often did of their own losses - Sirius, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Lavender, Colin. The list was long. 

‘Malfoy was a teenager, Harry,’ Hermione said after a moment. ‘We know he made choices that showed he wasn’t loyal to Voldemort. He’s paid his dues by now, surely?’

‘I agree,’ Harry said frankly. ‘Malfoy and I made our peace a long time ago. I’m just saying that no matter what he does, his reputation precedes him. His mother did all the charity stuff, and it helped, especially now Lucius is out of the picture, but Draco Malfoy has got to live with that stigma for the rest of his life.’

‘Well, now he’s a widower and a single father at twenty-nine.’ Hermione said bitterly, her throat tightening. ‘Maybe that will be enough for people to cut him some slack.’

Harry leaned over, squeezing her knee under the table. 

‘You’re amazing, Mi.’ He said earnestly. ‘Your compassion really knows no limit, does it?’ She didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to her arm where the Mudblood scar still remained, a faint but tangible reminder of her own experiences at Malfoy Manor during the war.

‘I need to get dressed.’ She sighed, not feeling strong enough to go down that road. ‘I’ll clear up the breakfast things later.’ 

‘Don’t worry,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘See you later.’ Hermione rose and began making her way back into her bedroom, her heart heavy, her arm throbbing. 

Harry followed her into the hallway, and she turned as she felt him reach out for her hand. 

‘Hey,’ he murmured softly. ‘Are you okay? I’m sorry if I upset you. I know these last few days have really gotten to you. Malfoy’s situation is shit and he definitely deserves sympathy and support. You’re doing the right thing by helping him out. I’m here, always. I’ve got your back, okay?’

‘I know you do.’ Hermione replied, winding her arms around Harry’s waist. ‘I just feel for him, that’s all. He hasn’t just lost his wife, he’s got the rest of the world to contend with, as well as the stress of a newborn and his in-laws trying to fight him for custody. It’s hard to see someone struggle so much.’ 

‘Well, it looks like he’s got you in his corner.’ Harry said. ‘So he’s got one thing going for him. I, of all people, know how much of an advantage it is to have Hermione Granger on my side.’ 

Hermione smiled. ‘Me, and his wildly protective group of friends.’ 

‘Oh right, yes.’ Harry murmured. ‘Theo. Theodore Nott.’ 

‘And Pansy and Blaise.’ Hermione reminded him.

‘Yeah.’ He replied absently. ‘Pansy and Blaise, too.’ 

‘Right. I really have to get ready.’ Hermione said, extricating herself reluctantly from Harry’s comforting embrace. ‘I desperately need a shower, and it’s already eight.’ 

‘Alright, I’ll see you tonight.’ Harry replied and hugged her once more before meandering back to the kitchen.

Hermione Apparated back to the hospital a little after nine. She wasn’t technically working, so she’d left her robes at home lest anyone think she was and start pulling her in different directions.

Instead, she wore Muggle jeans and a plain black, long-sleeved top, her hair down and clean after her shower, styled into corkscrew curls. 

Ernie was the first person she saw when she walked onto the ward. He was coming out of one of the side rooms, a set of empty potion vials in his hands. 

‘Hermione,’ he said, surprise in his voice. ‘What are you doing here? You aren’t on the rota for today.’

‘Morning, Ernie.’ She replied curtly. ‘I’ve just come in to oversee the Malfoys’ discharge.’

Ernie’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. 

‘You’ve come in on your day off to oversee a discharge?’ He repeated. ‘The Malfoys discharge?’

‘Yes.’ Hermione replied, feeling her blood heat. ‘I have. Do you have something to say about that?’ 

Her words were snapped, louder than she’d intended, her hands planted on her hips. Ernie seemed to be considering for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin, white line.  
Hermione could see that, yes, he quite clearly had a great number of things he wanted to say, but wisely, he decided not to say them. Not to her, at least.  
Instead, he simply shrugged, which was somehow even more infuriating and said, ‘It’s your day off. How you choose to spend it is none of my business.’ Before turning in the other direction and striding off. 

Hermione stuck two fingers up behind his back, then made her way down to Malfoy’s room, anger simmering in her gut. 

She knocked quietly on the door before entering, not sensing any wards this time. 

‘Yes?’ Malfoy’s voice came through and she opened it slightly, poking her head in. 

‘Granger!’ Theo exclaimed. ‘You came to see us off.’ 

They were all in there with him, Theo, Blaise and Pansy. Each one of them dressed impeccably as usual, their shirts, suit jackets and Pansy’s towering heels incongruous against the drab hospital decor. Hermione was quickly realising that none of the Slytherins did casual, regardless of the occasion.  
They were gathered around what looked like a large pile of sweets, lollies and chocolate bars, all spread out on Malfoy’s bed. 

Malfoy himself looked freshly shaven, his blonde hair damp and flicking around his ears.  
He was wearing a crisp grey shirt tucked into tweed trousers, the darker colours highlighting the angles of his lean body. Aurora was peaceful, dozing in the crook of her father’s arm.
Hermione had to wonder how long she’d actually spent out of his arms since she’d been born. 

‘Umm, yes sure,’ she replied, stepping into the room. ‘I came to do a few last checks on  Aurora before she’s discharged.’

‘You aren’t wearing your robes,’ Malfoy said quietly, a small line creasing between his eyebrows.

‘Um, no. I'm not technically on shift today.’ 

‘You’re not?’ His eyes softened, the frown line smoothing out. ‘But…you came in?’

‘Yes.’ Hermione felt her cheeks heat under the collective gaze of all four adults in the room.

‘I promised I would.’ 

Malfoy’s eyes still hadn’t left hers. He looked as though he wanted to say something, his lips parting on an inhale, but then Theo gestured towards her. 

‘Care for a sweetie, Sweetie?’ He asked. ‘We finally found something Malfoy has an appetite for. Loves a Percy Pig, does Draco.’

Hermione stepped closer to the bed, getting a better look at the packets they were eating from.
‘Muggle sweets?’ She asked, confused. ‘You like Muggle sweets?’ 

Pansy laughed. ‘Draco likes all types of sweets, darling. The man is a certified sugar fiend.’

‘Wouldn’t think it to look at him, would you?’ Theo patted Malfoy’s toned stomach through his shirt, earning himself what looked like a wandless stinging jinx.

‘Ow!’ He jerked his hand back, laughing. ‘Rude.’ 

Hermione chose not to answer Theo’s question. ‘It’s only nine am.’ She said instead. 

‘And? Come on, Golden Girl,’ Theo teased with a wide grin. ‘Go wild, have a sweet.’ 

Hermione frowned to hide her smile and reached into the packet, taking one of the pig-shaped treats.

‘I love these.’ She said, popping one in her mouth. 

‘I get them for Draco every time I go shopping in Muggle London,’ Pansy said. ‘I thought they might finally tempt him to eat something.’

Hermione fixed Malfoy with a stern look. ‘You need to eat more than sweets, I told you that last night.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Theo said. ‘He’ll eat like a king when he gets back to my place. The manor elves have already been over and stuffed the fridge full of food.’ 

Hermione opened her mouth but Malfoy cut her off, pulling the round red lolly he’d been sucking out from between his teeth and holding it aloft by the stick. 

‘They’re free elves. Don’t shout at me.’ He said, with an almost imperceptible eye roll. ‘They were all set free after my father’s death, but a few of them decided to stay with Astoria and I.
I never make them do anything they don’t want to. They are happy, paid well, and they can leave at any time.’

Hermione closed her mouth again, swallowing down the words that he’d correctly predicted had been on the tip of her tongue.  

Malfoy’s eyes glinted, the ghost of a smirk curling the corners of his mouth as one blonde eyebrow raised just slightly.  
He crunched his lolly so loudly it was almost obnoxious, pulling out the stick and throwing it into the bin before taking a Percy Pig and eating that too. Hermione felt her own lips twitch up in response as she forced herself not to bite.

‘So,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Before you go, we need to do Aurora’s final weigh-in, one last check of her hearing and reflexes, and I’ll give you your Red Book.’

‘Red Book?’ 

‘It’s a record book we use. It charts her weight and length so we can make sure she’s growing as we want her to. Every week you’ll bring her in to get those things checked, although our community midwives will do that for you for the first month or so.’

‘This community midwife.’ Malfoy said, his nose wrinkling slightly. ‘What qualifications does she have? The same as the Mediwitches here? Does she know that Aurora was born early, that she needs extra care?’

‘Draco, of course.’ Hermione said. ‘I’ve taken a look to see who they’ve assigned. Your community Midwife is Clara Curlew. She’s very experienced and very nice. She will take excellent care of Aurora.’

His jaw firmed. ‘Fine.’ He muttered, although he didn’t look remotely convinced, a frown still darkening his features. 

Hermione thought she might need to gently warn Clara beforehand about how Malfoy could be. 

‘Have you given the front desk your current address yet?’ She asked. 

‘No. That twatty one was out there earlier,’ Malfoy said, handing her a slip of parchment with an address scribbled on it. ‘Mac-knobhead- Millan.’

‘Oh!’ Hermione couldn’t help exclaiming as she read the address. Predictably, the apartment was at the top of one of the most eye-wateringly expensive blocks in Wizarding London, however - ‘This is just down the road from Harry and I,’ she said. ‘We live in Thornbush Hill.’ 

‘You do?’ Malfoy said at the same time that Theo blurted, ‘Harry? As in Harry Potter?’

Pansy said nothing, pulling a sympathetic face at the news of Hermione’s considerably more downmarket postcode.

‘Are you guys married then?’ Blaise asked interestedly, and Hermione almost burst out laughing. 

‘No, we’re just friends. Harry is gay.’ 

The sound of choking pulled her eyes to Theo. He coughed and heaved on the sweet he’d inhaled as Blaise thumped his back, blue eyes streaming. 

‘He’s gay?’ He spluttered, as soon as he could catch his breath. ‘Harry Potter is gay?’ 

Hermione nodded as Pansy asked, ‘Wasn’t he seeing that Weasley girl for a while, though? The one who knocked Draco off his broom in sixth year?’ 

‘Fuck off, Pans,’ Malfoy muttered as Theo and Blaise sniggered behind him. ‘I dived off because I didn’t want to hurt her.’ 

Hermione remembered that day, and Ginny’s pride over the moment well - she’d definitely knocked him off.

‘Sure you did.’ Blaise laughed, and Malfoy whipped his head around to scowl ferociously at him.

‘Ah, that relationship was short-lived.’ She replied. ‘They both quickly realised that they preferred members of the same sex.’ 

‘But you live together?’ Theo said, clearly not ready to change the subject. ‘Does that mean you’re both single?’ 

‘Currently, yes.’ Hermione replied, embarrassed by the line of questioning. It had all suddenly become a bit too personal - she was here to work, not talk about her love life.

‘Anyway,’ she said breezily. ‘Back to Aurora.’

She flicked her hair over her shoulder and reached for the baby, clearly indicating she was done with the conversation. 

She did not, however, miss Theo’s wide-eyed expression as he grinned at Pansy who arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow and smirked back at him. What was that about? She wondered. 

Malfoy passed Aurora over carefully, his eyes fixed on his baby as Hermione got her comfortable in her arms. His fingers twitched as Aurora let out a small sound of protest at being separated from her father, but he lowered them to his sides as Hermione rocked her gently, settling her quickly and efficiently.

‘Are you okay to come with me now, Draco?’ She asked. ‘We’ll take Aurora into one of the examination rooms where I have a weighing scale.’

‘Sure.’ Malfoy said, stepping towards the door and holding it open for her.

He followed closely behind her as they made their way the short distance down the corridor, staring intimidatingly at Ernie, who was still behind the front desk. Hermione couldn’t be quite sure she didn’t see Malfoy mouth the word, ‘cunt,’ as they passed, although she’d certainly deny it if questioned on the matter. Ernie paled, suddenly intensely interested in whatever was written on the parchment in front of him.

The ward was busier than the day before, and Hermione sensed Malfoy’s discomfort as they moved past people in the corridor, some of whom watched them curiously, whispering behind their hands. 

His chest seemed to puff up as he moved even closer to her and Aurora, his elbow brushing her shoulder. He was like a guard dog, hackles raised, primed to attack at the slightest provocation.  
Hermione felt a small prickle of worry at his level of anxiety, wondering how he would hold it together once he had to take Aurora out into the real world.

When they reached the examination room, she waited for him to open the door and led Malfoy inside, sensing his relief once the door swung shut behind them. 

Hermione laid Aurora gently down on the changing table, frowning as she felt Malfoy’s cleansing charm zip past her and settle over the changing mat.
She turned to raise her eyebrows at him, but he just shrugged. ‘Can’t be too careful,’ he murmured. Hermione shook her head, turning back to Aurora, who was making her displeasure at being disturbed known. 

Her little pink mouth opened wide as she let out a loud, unhappy wail.

‘Shall I pick her up?’ Malfoy asked, hovering.

‘It’s better if we get this done quickly.’ Hermione replied. ‘Most babies don’t enjoy this, but the sooner it’s done, the sooner you can leave.’ 

He stepped back, but only slightly, Hermione could still feel him close behind her, craning his neck over her shoulder.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, baby girl,’ she muttered as she gently unwrapped Aurora’s blanket. ‘I’ll be quick.’ 

She completed the reflex and hearing tests swiftly, and then explained to Malfoy that he needed to undress her for weighing. 

Aurora was wearing another collared babygrow, this one a soft dusky pink with tiny bows embroidered on it.  
Malfoy undressed her carefully, his long fingers undoing the buttons and wrapping around her delicate limbs gingerly as he pulled the babygrow off her arms and legs and slipped her white vest over her head. 

Hermione stepped over to the scales. 

‘Nappy too.’ She instructed, and he nodded, murmuring to Aurora as he pulled off the tabs. Aurora kicked her legs and waved her arms about, her little cries getting louder. Malfoy grimaced, sliding the nappy out from under her and casting a quick cleansing charm. 

‘Okay. Bring her over.’ Hermione said once she’d prepared her scales. 

He picked Aurora up, cradling her close. 

‘Sorry, my little lady.’ She heard him say, his voice low against her cheek. ‘This won’t take long.’ 

He placed her down on the scales and watched anxiously as Hermione weighed her, teeth pressed hard into his lower lip.

‘Great,’ she said. ‘Six pounds three ounces.’ 

‘But that’s only four ounces,’ he frowned. 

‘Is that enough? I feed her every two hours. More if she spits some up.’ He had that look again, stress pulling his features tight. 

‘Draco,’ Hermione said, sensing a spiral. ‘Look at me.’ 

After a moment, he did, grey eyes flicking up to hers, the worry in them clear. 

‘That’s enough weight.’ Hermione held his gaze, her voice firm  ‘You know I wouldn’t lie to you about anything concerning Aurora’s health.’ 

He blew out a long breath, picking Aurora up and tucking her into her preferred spot, her cries immediately calming as she turned her face into her father’s chest.

‘Fuck, okay I know you wouldn’t. It doesn’t seem like much, that’s all.’ 

‘It’s enough. You’ve done a great job.’ Hermione replied. ‘You can dress her now.’ 

He nodded and began walking back towards the changing mat. 

‘Shit.’ 

He stopped dead. 

‘Everything okay?’ Hermione asked, looking up sharply.

‘Oh, Christ.’

He still hadn’t moved.

‘Draco? What’s wrong?’ Hermione asked, coming around to look at him. 

To her surprise, Malfoy was smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. As she stepped closer, he began to laugh, a quiet, restrained rumble that came from his chest and made his shoulders shake and his cheeks bunch in a lovely way she hadn’t seen before.

‘She’s bloody… she… wee’d on me.’ He said, looking down at himself. ‘All down the front of my shirt.’ 

‘She has?’ Hermione gasped, unable to stop herself from letting out a small giggle too. 

‘Oh no.’ 

‘I’m soaking.’ He said, and Hermione could see it - A small wet patch over his sleeve and down the placket of his shirt.

‘My girl, you just peed all over your dad.’ He murmured as he held Aurora along his forearm, her head cradled in his palm so he could look into her face.
‘What do you have to say for yourself, hmm?’
Aurora blinked back up at him, tiny fists clasped under her chin, feet pressed against his chest.
Malfoy grinned, his grey eyes shining as he bent down to kiss the tip of her nose, once, twice, three times.  
‘Fine.’ He whispered. ‘Apology accepted, of course.’

He lay Aurora down, not seeming the slightest bit bothered by the wet down his front. ‘It’s a rite of passage being a dad, I suppose,’ he said. ‘An initiation of sorts.’

‘It definitely is.’ Hermione replied, still giggling a little. ‘It could have been a lot worse.’ 

He looked at her for a moment, seemingly confused and then realisation dawned and his eyes widened. ‘Merlin, can you imagine?’ He breathed. ‘I’d take a wet patch over that any day.’

He cast cleansing charms over Aurora first, cleaning her up and adding some barrier cream before casting over himself and drying his shirt, still smiling to himself.

Hermione was using a quill to record Aurora’s weight in her red book.

‘I know you haven’t had time to officially register her at the Ministry yet, but have you decided on Aurora’s full name, so I can write it at the front of her book? Does she have a middle name?’

Malfoy looked up from where he was doing up the buttons of Aurora’s babygrow, his smile faltering, the humour dying from his eyes. He was silent for a moment. 

‘She has two.’ He said eventually, picking her up and nestling her back into her place in the crook of his arm. ‘Astoria, Narcissa’ The words were so quiet Hermione could barely hear them. ‘Aurora Astoria Narcissa Malfoy.’ He repeated, his voice rough. ‘After her mother and grandmother.’

‘It’s perfect.’ Hermione replied, writing it down carefully, her chest tightening. 

‘Yeah.’ He agreed softly. ‘I think so.’ 

They were silent as they walked back down the corridor a few minutes later.

Malfoy was solemn, his jaw tense. Sadness radiated off him again, another milestone about to be met that he was doing alone. 

He should be walking out of the hospital holding his wife’s hand. Instead, he would be walking out surrounded by his friends, a substitute family for Aurora - full of love, but no replacement for what should have been. Where was Narcissa? She couldn’t help wondering again, surely she’d want to meet her granddaughter? She’d always seemed to dote on Draco. It was odd that she hadn’t appeared.

‘I’ll let Chief Healer Jennings know we’re all ready to go.’ Hermione said. ‘He’ll come in and sign you off, and then you can leave. I’ll just be in my office getting all the paperwork ready for the community midwives and your Mind Healer appointments. I won’t be long.’ 

‘Alright.’ Malfoy murmured. ‘I’ll get packed up while I wait.’ He turned away, heading back into his hospital room, the door snicking quietly shut behind him. 

An hour later, everything was ready. The paperwork had been signed off, and Hermione had a fat scroll of notes under her arm, the leather-bound red book all filled in and ready to go. 

She knocked on Malfoy’s room, her heart squeezing when she entered to see Aurora ready to go in her charmed car seat, a knitted white hat on her head, and a blanket tucked under her chin. Her rosebud lips pursed as she slept, long lashes splayed over her cheeks. She really was the most beautiful baby, Hermione thought again, like a tiny porcelain doll.

Malfoy was sitting on the bed, his hands between his knees as he watched Aurora sleep, the observation charms glowing above her head. He was wearing his navy robes again, a silver clasp fastened at his throat, the opulent material flowing over the white cotton sheets on the bed.  The overnight bag was packed, sitting on the floor at his feet. 

Pansy and Blaise stood together, and Hermione realised for the first time that they were a couple as she watched Pansy go up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Blaise’s lips, and he whispered something quietly into her ear. 

Theo was once again lounging on the sofa, absently spinning his wand between his fingers. He looked up as Hermione entered.  ‘Finally!’ He exclaimed. ‘We can get out of here. I’m bloody starving.’ 

‘It’s time?’ Malfoy clarified, looking nervous. His face was pale under the blonde strands that had fallen over his forehead, lined once again with anxiety.

‘Yes. Everything is ready.’ Hermione replied. ‘You’ve got enough donor milk supplies for the next few days?’ 

Malfoy nodded, pointing to a bag next to the fridge, a silver one charmed to keep the milk cold.

‘I’ll go and bring the car around,’ Blaise said, picking up the bags and pulling a set of Mercedes keys out of his coat pocket. ‘I’ll wait at the main entrance.’ 

It wasn’t safe to use the Floo or Apparate when transporting a newborn. The wizarding world had always had to rely on other methods to get home from the hospital with a new baby. 

Hermione had noticed the big black Mercedes outside St Mungo’s when she’d arrived that morning. The sleek machine standing out amongst the few other old cars in the car park. She wasn’t remotely surprised that it belonged to one of Malfoy’s group. 

‘We’ll come too.’ Pansy said quickly, motioning to Theo. ‘Come, love. Let’s let Draco say goodbye.’

Theo jumped up immediately.

‘See you out there in a bit,’ he said to Malfoy. ‘Don’t forget to-‘ 

‘I won’t.’ Malfoy replied crisply. ‘I’ll see you in a second.’

With a small wave from Pansy and Blaise and a kiss on Hermione’s cheek from Theo, the three Slytherins left the room in a bustle of bags and clipped heels. 

Hermione turned back to Malfoy, who had risen from the bed and was now standing in front of her. 

‘How are you feeling?’ She asked. ‘Ready to go?’

He pulled a small face. ‘In one way, yes. I can’t wait to get out of this place,’ he said. ‘In another, I’m fucking terrified. Here, we’ve been in a sort of bubble. I’ve been able to call on you for any little question, I’ve been able to learn how to be a dad. But when we leave, reality begins.  Astoria isn’t here and she’s not coming back. It’s just me and Aurora.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘I know my friends will do anything to help and God, I fucking love them for it, but none of them have any experience. I might miss things that Astoria would have picked up. I just don’t know anything about what to expect.’

‘Draco,’ Hermione said. ‘No one knows what to expect when they have their first baby. It’s a learning curve. You adore Aurora, and you’ll know intuitively if something is wrong. You give her more attention than any dad I think I’ve seen before.’

‘Because I’m all she has.’ He interrupted, his voice hoarse as he pressed a palm into his chest. ‘Aurora will never get to know her mum, and it’s the fucking worst tragedy.  At least I got to have Astoria. I had her for nearly thirty years. Aurora got her for one precious moment, and she’ll… she’ll never remember it.  
Astoria would have doted on Aurora and as long as I live I’ll spend every second letting my daughter know how fucking loved she is.
I can’t fill the void her mother’s death has left, but I can give her myself, all of me, every little bit. It’s the best I can do, Granger. The only way I can even try to make up for what she’s lost.’

Hermione swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain composed.

‘That’s how I know.’ She said quietly, once she found that she could. ‘That’s how I know you will be okay, Draco. You are already an amazing dad.’ 

She hesitated another moment before speaking again. 

‘Did you… do you still want my number? In case of an emergency?’

‘Yes.’ He replied quickly. ‘I really do.’

‘Okay.’ Hermione smiled, reaching into her pocket, taking out the small square of parchment where she’d written it that morning. ‘Here you go. It’s my mobile.’

‘Thanks.’ He folded it carefully, sliding it into the pocket of his robes as he withdrew an envelope from the other. 

He looked down at her, so close that she could see small flecks of blue in his eyes. 

‘I know I’ve already said it, Granger, but I really don’t think I could have done this without you.’

Hermione snorted. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You could have.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘This is for you.’ He handed over the envelope and Hermione ran her fingers over the stiff card, looking at her name written in his elegant script on the front.

‘Don’t open it until we leave.’ 

 Hermione nodded, her eyebrows drawing together. 

‘Alright.’ She slid the envelope into her back pocket, burning with curiosity as to what it said.

‘Goodbye, then.’ Malfoy said, and Hermione smiled, feeling tears suddenly prick her eyes again.

‘Take care, Draco. Don’t forget to look after yourself too.’

She didn’t see him move, but there was a rush of air as Malfoy suddenly stepped closer, and then his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, strong but gentle.
His chest pressed against her face so that she could smell the same expensive aftershave she’d detected on his robes that very first day. He was warm and solid, and Hermione could feel his heartbeat pounding through his shirt. 

She was frozen momentarily, struck by the improbability of the situation, imagining how she’d have reacted if someone had told her a week ago that she’d find herself standing here, like this, with Draco Malfoy. She’d have laughed in their face.  
But it was happening, and it didn’t feel as strange as she thought it would.  
Hermione’s arms came up to return the embrace, but Malfoy had already moved back, his face red, embarrassment clouding his features.

‘Sorry, Granger.’ He muttered. ‘I- shouldn’t have done that. It was inappropriate. Sorry.’ 

But Hermione reached for him again, pulling him in and hugging him tightly.‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Give me a bloody hug.’
Malfoy gave in. The stiffness in his body disappeared as he hugged her back almost fiercely, a small sound escaping from the back of his throat. Their embrace was chaste but powerful, full of all the emotion that had passed between them in just a few short days.  
Hermione swiped surreptitiously at a lone tear that trickled down her cheek as she let herself feel it fully, just for a moment when no one else could see. ‘Thank you.’ Malfoy whispered quietly into her hair. ‘Thank you, Granger.’’

Half an hour later, Hermione had recovered, waiting in the corridor with Mike and Katie as Malfoy and Aurora exited their hospital room for the last time. 

Theo and Pansy rose from where they’d been waiting on the blue plastic chairs, stepping forwards as Malfoy closed the door behind him and began striding down the corridor, Aurora held carefully in her carrier at his side. 

His face was set, back straight, robes flowing behind him. Hermione was reminded of the first time she’d seen him, just four short nights ago, a stoic Pureblood gentleman - the version of Draco Malfoy he showed to the world, all graceful long lines and sharp edges.
There was no sign of the aching vulnerability Hermione knew clutched at the heart that beat underneath.    

‘Thank you all for providing such good care for my daughter.’ He said stiffly as he approached, his vowels cut-glass, his tone formal. ‘We appreciate all you’ve done for us.’

Mike shook his hand politely as Katie smiled nervously and fiddled with her wand. 

He finally turned to Hermione, his eyes dark and storm-filled. He didn’t speak, his throat working as if he wanted to, but nothing came out.  
Finding that she was also lost for words, Hermione settled for a small nod instead - you can do this, it said. I know that you can.  
He took a deep, shivering breath and nodded back, one side of his mouth lifting briefly.  

Then, flanked by his friends, Draco Malfoy and his daughter finally walked out towards the exit of St Mungo’s hospital - a new family, missing one very important piece, but as complete as they could be - for now. 

Hermione watched them go, fighting the tightness in her chest. She’d done her job and she’d done it well despite the difficult circumstances.

Aurora was loved, Malfoy was loved - as long as they were together, they would make it through.

She turned and headed straight back to her office, sitting down at her desk and pulling the envelope Malfoy had given her from her pocket.  
Hermione looked at it for a moment before flipping it over, unsealing the flap and sliding out the thick folded card inside.  
She smiled, her eyes filling with tears the moment she looked down at the picture on the front, but when she opened it and read the words Malfoy had written inside, Hermione’s heart squeezed. She dropped the card onto the table, put her face into her hands and cried.

Chapter Text

The card reads:

Granger, 

If I could take that hateful scar on your arm and wear it for you, I would.

I'm so sorry for any of the times I ever made you feel like you were less. You are not less, you are the opposite. 

You are brave. You’re selfless, loyal and kind.

If my daughter grows up to be anything like you then I will know I finally did something right. 

PS: I know Astoria would have loved you. I wish she could have gotten to know you. 

 Yours, 

Draco 

Chapter Text

The days that followed the Malfoy’s discharge were quiet on the ward. Hermione was owed several days leave and for once, after some not-so-subtle nudges from Chief Healer Jennings, she actually took them. 

She spent the first twenty-four hours in bed, a deep, dreamless blanket of exhaustion pulling her under, her body gratefully accepting the respite she hadn’t realised she so badly needed.

But as Hermione’s fatigue subsided, small flashes of the preceding days began to flicker into her consciousness, brief vignettes of moments she hadn’t had time to dwell on whilst they were actually occurring.
The heart-stopping moment of panic in the theatre before Aurora took her first breath, Astoria’s proud, fading smile as she reached a trembling hand out towards her daughter, the sight of Malfoy’s face when they gave  him the news, recoiling like he’d been physically slapped. 

Anyone who worked in healthcare would inevitably face these types of situations, it came with the territory. Hermione knew the value of remaining professional, but she also knew the importance of allowing yourself to feel. The second you became hardened to others suffering, the job was no longer for you, she thought. 

The problem was, despite her well-worn game face, Hermione felt things so very deeply, and truthfully, she wasn’t sure how to qualify the feelings she had about Draco Malfoy. 

Every time she thought about him or Aurora, she wanted to burst into tears.  

She lay in bed and reread the card he’d given her several times, her eyes dancing over the words as her brain turned each one over like a stone, weighing its meaning.
Every time she made herself put the card to the side and tried to concentrate on something else, it inevitably made its way back into her hand, her fingertips tracing the looping letters as though feeling the shape of them could help her understand them.

Twelve years down the line, Hermione had thought she had managed to move on from the horror of the war. She’d convinced herself that the scar Bellatrix had carved into her arm no longer bothered her the way it once had.  
When she’d realised there was no way to get rid of it, she had to force herself to stop feeling ashamed of it.  
It was a part of her, a part of history, and she’d come to grudgingly accept it as a reminder of how much times had changed. 

Since the downfall of Voldemort, Wizarding Britain had become much more accepting of Muggleborns and Muggle technology. Day to day life was more amalgamated and Wizarding children had a far better understanding of Muggle culture than they once had.

The word on Hermione’s arm was shocking, repugnant, but it was also a reminder of how far they’d come. 

She knew Malfoy hadn’t seen her scar since he’d been in the hospital, she’d made sure of it. The fact that he was so aware of it, that he still saw it there, even through her clothes, ‘That hateful scar…wear it for you if I could,’… it was further confirmation that Malfoy was no longer the person she’d believed him to be. 

The fact of the matter was, Hermione thought as she sipped her coffee on her second morning off - she was a Healer first and foremost - if any other father had been in Draco’s situation, she would have behaved in exactly the same way. She would have supported him, helped him, defended him if she felt it was the right thing to do. 

But he wasn’t any other father. 

The history between them was inescapable - painful. Malfoy’s own hateful scars were testament to that.

It should have made looking after Draco and Aurora incredibly difficult …but it hadn’t.  
Almost immediately, he had trusted her with his daughter. He had allowed Hermione to see beneath the polished, controlled exterior he presented to the world, and instead of what she’d expected to find, Hermione had discovered the broken pieces of a man she would never have imagined existed - devoted, caring and remorseful.

She felt sore, bruised by the raw honesty of the words Malfoy had written in the card, as though he’d inadvertently rubbed open wounds she didn’t even know were still there.

Somewhere, over the course of those four fraught days she’d spent with him, Hermione had been so focused on not letting Draco fall apart that she hadn't noticed that she had also very quietly, and very subtly, been doing a little falling apart of her own. 

Thankfully Harry - sweet, sweet Harry - had immediately picked up on her delicate mood. He came home from work that night with a carrier bag full of her favourite things - chocolate, white wine and a huge Margarita pizza. He understood that she didn’t feel like talking much, and after eating dinner in their pyjamas, they sat quietly on the sofa, Hermione’s feet in Harry’s lap while she read a book and he pored over his case notes, chewing the end of his quill thoughtfully and muttering to himself.

‘Have you remembered that Ginny comes home tomorrow?’ He asked her as he headed to bed around eleven. 

‘Of course,’ Hermione replied (she hadn’t). ‘I can’t wait.’

‘Ron says we’re all meeting in the Leaky for drinks at seven. I’ll have to come straight from work, I think.’ 

‘Alright, Love.’ She yawned. ‘I’m spending the day with Luna, so I’ll get ready and go with her.’ 

‘Perfect. I’m up early for Quidditch practice, so I’ll see you at the pub.’ Harry gave her a quick peck on the cheek and headed into bed. 

Hermione stared sightlessly at her book for another ten minutes before she gave up and headed to bed too, ignoring the fresh tingling in her arm.

The next day dawned bright and crisp. Hermione felt a lot better - more rested, less emotional.
She got up around seven and ate her toast in the narrow shaft of winter sun that streamed in through their kitchen window before getting ready to meet Luna. 

As always, a day with Luna was slow-paced and easy. They wandered around Hogsmeade, heading into various crystal shops, apothecaries and bookstores. Hermione found several tomes on older methods of healing she wanted to study to see what she might be able to modernise and adapt to use in work. 

They stopped in Madame Puddifoots for tea and lemon cake and Hermione allowed herself to sit back quietly, soaking in Luna’s undemanding effervescence as she listened to her chatter away in her soft lilting voice.

Later they headed back to the flat and shared a bottle of wine as they got ready, both of them a little giggly by the time they left for the pub. 

Hermione pushed open the doors to the Leaky Cauldron, welcoming the warm rush of beer-scented air after the biting cold outside. She could see that almost everyone else had already arrived, sitting squashed together in their regular booth - Ron and Padma, Ginny and Harry, Dean and Seamus - only Neville and Hannah were yet to arrive. 

She and Luna bustled in, and Hermione smiled as she accepted a flurry of cheek kisses and a tight hug from Ginny. 

They settled into their seats as Harry headed to the bar and brought over a bottle of their favourite wine and some glasses.
As she poured herself a generous measure, Hermione felt herself relax even further,  the cosy atmosphere of the pub and the familiarity of her friends a soothing balm for the ache she’d had in her chest over the last few days.

Their friendship group aimed to meet up at least once a month or whenever Ginny came home. Over the years the booth they sat in had unofficially become ‘theirs’, and one evening, whilst half pissed they had all taken it in turns to crawl underneath the table and scratch their names into the wood.
Hermione had been the last to go, feeling guilty about damaging pub property, but eventually, after downing two shots of Firewhisky under duress, she too had gotten down on her knees and used her wand to carve in the letters of her name. 

Everyone appeared to be in high spirits tonight and the drinks were flowing. Ginny was full of energy, grinning as she ribbed Ron mercilessly about his new haircut, Dean joining in with enthusiasm. Harry once again flirted relentlessly at the bar, enjoying the never ending attention that came with being The Chosen One.

Next to her, Padma chatted to Luna about the new baby class she’d started - ‘The Art of Magical Massage.’ 

Padma and Ron had three year old twins, and a six month old baby boy. Their house was chaotic and loud, but full of love. It reminded Hermione a lot of the Burrow and she loved visiting, letting the twins Mira and Kiran clamber all over her, whilst she held baby Fred to give Ron and Padma some well needed respite.

They’d left the children with Molly and Arthur for the night, and both appeared to be making the most of their freedom judging by the flush on Padma’s cheeks and the way Ron kept leaning over to whisper things into her ear.

Hermione hadn’t noticed the door opening until she felt a rush of cold air and looked up to see Neville unwinding a scarf from around his neck as he walked over to the bar to greet Harry. 

Hannah came straight to the table, giving Hermione a brief, awkward wave as she hugged Luna. Things were civil between them - Hermione had no ill will towards Hannah, but the fact would always remain that she was Neville’s ex-girlfriend. She had broken his heart and Hannah had been the one to pick up the pieces. Understandably, they would always be a little wary of each other. 

‘Scooch up.’ Ginny ordered and they all squeezed in to make room for Hannah who perched at the end of the booth, a newer addition to the pub gang and still polite enough to not shove them all sideways like Dean had done when he’d come back from the toilet five minutes before. 

A few moments later, Harry and Neville returned from the bar, levitating another tray of drinks as they pulled up stools and an extra small table. 

Neville’s blue eyes flicked over to Hermione as he sat down and she gave him a small smile, her heart squeezing involuntarily as it always did whenever she saw him.  
Even though she no longer felt anything romantically for him, and she was pleased that he was happy with Hannah - Neville had been her first real love, her feelings for him much stronger than they’d ever been during her short, teenaged fling with Ron.

 Although, when he had eventually told her he was leaving it was almost a relief after the fractious months that preceded his decision, it was still strange to see him and not feel like she could just go over and talk to him or give him a hug. 

She noticed that Hannah’s eyes were also on Neville, watching him look over at her. Hannah immediately reached out to take his hand, pulling it onto her lap under the table. Hermione noted the possessive action for what it was and looked away, keeping her eyes deliberately averted from the couple for the next few hours. 

The night devolved, as it usually did when Ginny was home, into several rounds of shots, loud storytelling and raucous laughter.  
They were in the middle of a particularly lively re-enactment of Ginny’s most recent on-pitch fight, Ginny wheezing with laughter as she explained how the French newspapers had had a field day seeing as the girl she’d been fighting with had been her own teammate - and the girl she’d been pictured kissing just the day before.

‘Speaking of newspapers,’ Hannah interjected, her voice quiet. ‘Did you read about Astoria Greengrass?’

Harry’s eyes immediately snapped to Hermione and Luna placed a gentle hand on her knee, having been filled in on some of the details earlier in the day. 

The rest of the table leaned in, lowering their voices. 
‘It’s terrible isn’t it?’ Padma agreed. ‘Scary to think something like that can happen in childbirth in this day and age.’ 

‘What happened?’ Dean asked, looking confused.

‘She died.’ Padma whispered. ‘Whilst she was giving birth to Draco Malfoy’s baby.’

Dean swore quietly and Seamus shook his head, his expression grave. 

‘She had that blood curse though, didn’t she.’ Hannah said. ‘She was always sickly, even when we were in school. It was irresponsible really, for them to try and have a child with that in the family. I wonder if the baby is okay?’ 

‘Oh, God,’ Padma gasped, looking misty-eyed. ‘I really hope so.’

‘They’re already making guesses in the paper as to who will become the new Lady Malfoy.’ Hannah continued. ‘Seeing as it was an arranged marriage and Astoria didn’t give Malfoy a male heir to carry on the family name, he’ll be looking to remarry as soon as possible. He’s nearly thirty after all - time is ticking.’ She looked down at her own engagement ring, turning her hand so that the diamond sparkled in the light from the pub sconces. 

‘Are you being serious?’ Hermione burst out before she could stop herself. ‘They’re really saying that?’ 

Hannah’s cheeks flared, she looked over at Hermione guardedly, clearly sensing her irritation. ‘That’s what I read, yes.’ She said.

‘The Malfoy’s are Purebloods.’ Seamus huffed with a disdainful frown. ‘They need a male heir.’

‘Actually,’ Ron interjected. ‘A female heir can continue the bloodline. It’s just the name that will die. My family are technically Purebloods, so are Hannah and Neville’s. It’s more about who they marry rather than the sex of the baby. Malfoy would only want to marry another Pureblood. I’m sure it’s written into the deeds for the Malfoy vaults or something. Obviously,’ he clarified, turning to Padma. ‘My family has never cared about any of that. It’s only the old blood-supremacist wankers who ever gave a shit about any of that Sacred twenty-eight bullshit.’

‘Maybe it’s for the best if the Malfoy name does die out.’ Seamus said with a shrug. ‘I mean, it’s not exactly something to be proud of these days is it?’
There was a murmur of agreement from around the table. 

Hermione felt sick. 

She had to remind herself that Lucius Malfoy’s very public shaming and subsequent suicide had been front-page news, not to mention the fact that every single person around the table had been personally affected by Draco’s actions in school. 

‘I mean, he's a beautiful man, though.’ Padma said, earning a horrified look from Ron. ‘I’m sure there will be no shortage of witches willing to play Mummy.’

‘What?’ Seamus asked, incredulous. ‘The ferret isn’t good looking, is he? He’s all pointy and pale.’

‘He’s not pointy any more.’ Hannah said. ‘Haven't you seen the pictures in the Prophet? He’s definitely filled out since his Azkaban release. And anyway, now he can play the tragic widower card. Women go wild for a man with a baby, never mind the fact that he’s absolutely minted. He will be remarried within six months, you can guarantee it.’

Hermione glared at Hannah, she opened her mouth, but didn’t trust herself not to say something rude, no doubt Hannah would interpret her spikiness as something else. She stood up so quickly she almost knocked over her wine glass. ‘Bathroom break.’ She muttered, pushing her way out of the booth and ignoring her friend’s confused glances. 

Five minutes later Hermione swung open the door to the ladies, having given herself a firm talking to and deciding that, despite how much she wanted to, drinking more wine probably wasn’t the best idea. She was heading back towards the bar area with the intent of ordering a glass of water when the door separating the bar and the hallway opened and Neville stepped through, clearly looking for her.  
She stopped in her tracks and braced, her chest squeezing once again. 

‘Mione, are you okay?’ He asked softly, pushing the door closed behind him to shut out the background noise of the pub. ‘Harry just told us what happened. He said you were part of the team that tried to save Astoria.’ 

She foundered as Neville stepped closer, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

‘I’m so sorry, Mi,’ he said sincerely. ‘I know how hard that would have been on you. You always care so much about your patients.’

Hermione bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
‘Thanks, Neville. It was…. difficult, yes.’ She agreed through the lump in her throat. ‘It’s a very tragic set of circumstances.‘ 

Neville nodded, scuffing the toe of his white trainer against a corner of the patterned pub carpet. 

‘Harry said you’ve been looking after Malfoy and his baby in the hospital. That there have been Auror visits and you’ve had to write statements and speak to CPS agents. Are you sure you’re alright? That’s a lot of pressure.’ 

Neville’s blue eyes were full of concern. He was so bloody good, Hermione thought, as she had done so many times before. Always so earnest, so kind. Distantly, she wished again that Neville could have been enough for her, that instead of going home alone, or always relying on Harry, she could wrap herself up in his strong, comforting embrace and forget about everything. But it wouldn’t be right. She couldn’t give Neville what he needed and ultimately he couldn’t give her what she did. The spark had burned out, she'd done the right thing in allowing him to move on.

‘It was fine,’ she sighed, suddenly exhausted again. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it, sorry Neville.’ The open expression he wore disappeared with a blink, replaced by a painfully familiar one. As she watched Neville’s defences come flying down, Hermione immediately felt guilty. Neville didn’t deserve the curt dismissal, but she was still feeling sick, the wine she’d drunk churning violently in her stomach.

‘I’m a bit tired,’ she said. ‘I think I'm going to head home.’

A look of annoyance flashed over Neville’s face, darkening his features momentarily. He schooled it away, stepping back and sighing.

‘Sure,’ he said. Then, seemingly to himself, added, ‘I don’t know why I expected anything else.’ He moved to step away, then suddenly whipped back around sharply, taking Hermione by surprise. 

‘You don’t always have to fight other people’s battles, Mione. You do know that don’t you? Especially battles for people like Draco Malfoy. Do you think he’d do the same for you? After the way he treated you in school? You don’t always have to be such a damned martyr.’

Hermione felt her own temper flare, as though she’d been waiting for an excuse to get angry and now Neville was here, making it easy for her. 

‘What I do is none of your business any more, Neville.’ She snapped. ‘I didn’t ask you to come out here. You know nothing about the situation, nor how I feel about it, so I’ll thank you to not stick your nose where it’s not wanted and go back to your fiancée before she realises where you are.’

She hadn’t meant to be so cruel - Neville wasn't the intended target of her ire, but looking at him was hurting her feelings and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

'I'm sorry.' she said, her voice a little tremulous. ‘The past few days have just been a lot. I didn't mean to take it out on you.' 

Neville just shook his head, his mouth pressed into a sad, bitter smile.

‘One day, you’ll regret never putting yourself first, Hermione,’ he said, his blue eyes burning into hers. ‘You’ll finally decide to focus on your own life and realise what it could have been, all the good things that have passed you by while you were too busy looking around for someone to tear yourself into pieces for. There are so many things to love about you, but if you’re not careful there will be nothing left of you for anyone to love.’

Hermione stared at Neville, completely dumbstruck. It was the angriest she’d ever seen him, the most he’d ever said about how he felt. He looked as though he was waiting for a response and when she didn’t give him one, he shook his head again, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw.

‘It’s a terrible shame, what happened to Astoria,’ he said. ‘Malfoy is lucky to have had you there.’ 

Neville turned and pushed open the bar door, his expression sad and defeated. Hermione watched his retreating back, trying not to cry as the door swung slowly shut behind him. 

She stood in the hallway for several minutes, and by the time she got back, Neville and Hannah had left. Hermione sat down to the concerned expressions of her friends, biting her lip as Ginny put a hand gently over hers. 

‘Sorry, babe.’ She said, her voice low. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a shit few days.’ 

‘I’m so sorry, Hermione.’ Padma added. ‘We wouldn’t have talked about Astoria if we’d known she went to Saint Mungo’s. I think we all just assumed she would have had a private healer.’

Hermione forced herself to smile weakly. ‘It’s okay Padma. You didn’t know, and sadly it’s part of the job. Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do.’ 

Ginny put an arm around her. 'We love you.' She murmured, and Hermione leaned against her as Ginny squeezed her shoulder tightly. 

'Come to the Burrow tomorrow and we can chat, yeah? Let's not talk about it any more tonight.'  Hermione nodded gratefully, then, pushing a curl back from her face, she took a deep breath and smiled properly. 'Right,’ she said. ‘Fill me in on what I missed.'

The conversation immediately started back up again, steered to more lighthearted topics. Dean and Seamus were in the process of planning a wedding abroad and there was much debate as to whether Greece or Ibiza had the best weather in June. Hermione immediately began to feel better, laughing as Ron began plotting his Best Man's speech, a look of evil glee on his face. 

‘Mi,’ Harry said, leaning across the table ten minutes later.  
‘Your phone kept buzzing while you were gone, it was an unknown number so I didn’t answer it.’

Hermione took the phone out of Harry’s outstretched hand, giving him a small murmur of thanks as she pressed the button to unlock it.

She had three missed calls and the message icon in the corner of the screen flashed, indicating that she also had two unread messages.

She clicked on the little envelope, finding two text messages typed in all caps. She opened the first one.

GRANGER, THIS IS THEO. WE HAVE A SITUATION. 

She quickly closed it down and opened the second, sent half an hour later. 

GRANGER, PLEASE COME.

HE NEEDS YOU.

Hermione put the phone face down on the table, her heart suddenly pounding. It had been three days since they'd left the hospital, what on earth could have happened to warrant Theo calling her and not Malfoy?

Harry was frowning over at her, his expression questioning. Hermione stood up again. 

'I've got to go,’ she said. 'I need to-' she looked down at her phone.

Was she really going to walk away from a night out with her friends to go and rescue Draco Malfoy? At eleven PM? With no idea what kind of situation she was going to be walking into?

Hermione picked it up again, staring at the second text on the glowing green screen. 

HE NEEDS YOU.

'Sorry.' She said again. ‘I really do have to go.' 

‘Hermione?' Luna asked, taking another sip of her drink. 'Are you okay? What’s happening?’

'Nothing.' Hermione lied. 'I'm just a bit pissed. I’ve had a lot of wine. Will you be okay if I head off?’

‘Of course,’ Luna replied. ‘I’ll ask Seamus and Dean to walk me home. As long as you’re sure you’re okay.’

‘I’m good.’ Hermione promised her, giving her hand a small squeeze. 

The table was rowdy, most of her friends now talking loudly amongst themselves. Ron and Padma were kissing in the corner, totally oblivious to anyone else, Ginny, Seamus and Dean were passionately discussing Quidditch plays, debating the pros and cons of various dive techniques. Hermione squeezed her way out of the booth, accepting goodbye hugs and kisses and finalising her plans with Ginny for breakfast. 

'Bye!’ She called, heading towards the coat rack at the door. She'd barely made it two paces before Harry stepped in front of her, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

'Mi, what's going on?' he said. 'Who was calling you?' 

Hermione didn't want to lie to him. Harry knew her well enough that she thought he'd understand. 

'It's Malfoy.' She said quietly. 'There's some sort of crisis. Theo has asked me to go and help.'

Harry frowned. 'Wait, now? Where?' 

'He's staying at Theo's penthouse in Hebridean Heights.'
Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He turned around and put his pint down on the nearest table, then seemed to change his mind, picking it back up and necking the whole thing. 
'Right,’ he said, slamming down the empty glass. 'It’s late, you've had a fair bit to drink and you can't  Apparate. I'm not letting you walk through London on your own. I think you need Auror protection.’

'Harry.' she frowned, putting a hand on her hip. 'Don't be ridiculous. You're having fun and it’s just down the road. I’ll be fine.'

'No way.' Harry replied. ‘What kind of a best friend would I be, letting you walk on your own? Come on, let’s go.' He grabbed his tweed coat off the rack and headed back to the table to tell everyone he was going to leave too. After a few minutes of heckling and back patting, he wove his way a little unsteadily back through the pub towards her. 

'Ready?' 

Hermione nodded, once again infinitely grateful for Harry Potter as she buttoned up her coat and then, bracing themselves against the cold, she and Harry headed out of the warm pub and into the night.

Hebridean Heights was only a short walk away. Hermione and Harry linked arms, striding quickly through the rain slicked streets. Hermione shivered, bitterly regretting her choice of a short black dress and kitten heels.

‘Oh wow.' 

As they arrived at Hebridean Heights they both stopped walking, gazing up at the glittering, glass fronted building. It was the tallest high rise in Wizarding London, each apartment taking up a whole floor with large, wraparound balconies. Each one apparently had  at least five bedrooms, two reception rooms and three bathrooms. 

Theo's Penthouse was the largest by far, taking up both of the very top floors.

'Apparently there's a swimming pool up there,’ Harry murmured, craning his neck as he squinted up to the penthouse. ‘And a hot tub.' Hermione raised her eyebrows, not at all surprised. 

They were greeted at the entrance by a Wizard dressed in a grey top-hat and tails, the large buttons on his jacket shining almost as much as the ornate gold handles of the glass doors behind him.

'Who are you here for?' He asked dourly, eyeing them suspiciously down his nose. Hermione fidgeted under his scrutiny, pulling a little at the hem of her dress. 'Theodore Nott.' She replied. 'He's expecting us.' 

'Ah.' the doorman rolled his eyes. 'Of course.'

 He turned and tapped his wand against the large rectangular plaque that bore Theo's name. A  loud buzzing noise emitted from it, Theo's voice following soon after.

'Yes?' 

'Mr Nott, you have guests, sir.'

He looked at Hermione and Harry. 'Names?' he asked, sounding bored,

'Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.' Hermione leaned forward, speaking into the little box. The doorman frowned at her for a moment before his demeanor suddenly changed. He looked again at Harry, peering at him with unfettered curiosity. Harry smiled, showing both his top and bottom teeth as he lifted his fringe obligingly to show the large lightning bolt scar that sliced across  his forehead and down through his eyebrow. 

The doorman’s mouth fell open and he turned quickly back to the speaker.

'I have one Hermione Granger.' he said.

'Ah, fuck.  Brilliant.' Theo's voice crackled through. 'Send her up.' 

'I also have a Mr Harry Potter.’ 

There was suddenly a loud sound on the other end as though Theo might have dropped something, followed by some frantic rustling, a quiet curse and then Theo's voice again. 'Okay,’ he said, sounding flustered. 'Give me two minutes, then send them both up.' 

‘Of course, sir.’ The doorman replied, pointing his wand at their wet feet to cast a cleaning spell before stepping back stiffly, one elbow bent behind his back, the other wrist angled so he could see his watch, clearly counting down the two minutes. 

Hermione and Harry stood awkwardly on the steps, unsure of what to do as the doorman watched the seconds countdown silently. Hermione glanced over at Harry and had to stop a giggle bursting from her mouth at his bemused expression.

Eventually, the doorman finally stepped back, pushing open the door and waving them in with a flourish. 

‘Thank you.’ She said for the both of them, stepping gratefully into the warmth of the lobby.

The inside of the building was even more extravagant than the outside, with sparkling white marble floors and gold accents everywhere. The lobby was huge and echoing. There was an empty reception desk, several soft leather sofas angled towards each other, and gold-framed artwork covering the walls. The Floo fireplaces that lined one wall were huge, cleaner than any Hermione had ever seen.

In the very center of the lobby was an entirely clear glass elevator, not a single smudge visible on any of the four gleaming sides. Hermione and Harry made their way to the lift, their footsteps loud in the cavernous room. The glass doors swished open and closed silently as they entered, tinny instrumental music being piped from somewhere inside. 

‘There aren’t any buttons. How do we get to the penthouse?' Harry asked, but before the words had even fully left his mouth, the elevator suddenly lurched upwards at a dizzying speed, flying through the levels so fast that Hermione sprawled, falling on top of Harry who let out a surprised ‘Oof,’ as her elbow accidentally connected with his crotch. Within seconds, it came to an abrupt stop and the doors slid smoothly open with a muted ‘Ding!’

‘How does the bloody lift even sound posh?’ Harry grumbled as they stepped out into a luxuriously carpeted hallway. In front of them was an ornate oak door, the gold-plated label next to the bell simply reading, 'Nott'.

Hermione stepped forward, her finger pointed to press the bell, but before she could get there the door swung inwards and she was greeted by a breathless Theo and a waft of expensive cologne. 

'Granger,' he said, his blue eyes darting above her head. 'Thank God you came. Come in.’

He stepped back to make room for her, anxiously smoothing down the placket of his shirt. 

Despite the lateness of the hour, Theo was immaculately dressed in a fitted black oxford, the first two buttons open at his neck. He wore black trousers and a gold buckled belt slung low on his hips. His hair was styled to perfection, one curl artfully falling in front of his eyes. As Hermione took a step into the entryway, Harry moved out the shadows behind her and Theo froze, one hand tightening on the door frame.

'Hi,’ Harry shifted from foot to foot as he gave Theo a small, uncertain smile. 

'Hello,’ Theo replied, a little breathily.

Hermione stood between them, apparently completely forgotten by both men as Theo's eyes travelled slowly up from Harry's feet to his face and back down again. Harry seemed to be doing his own lingering perusal, his gaze snagging momentarily on the small triangle of bare skin visible at Theo’s open collar. Theo swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing as a rosy flush spread over his cheeks. 

'Uh Theo?' Hermione said, stepping into his eye-line. ‘You said there was an emergency?’

Theo jolted, blinking rapidly and finally pulling his eyes away from Harry who was now smiling dazedly down at the ground as he dragged one hand roughly through his hair. 

'Oh, yeah.' Theo finally turned to look at her. 'You didn't reply so I called Pansy. I wasn't sure what to do. Draco was absolutely freaking out.'

'What about? Where is he?’ Hermione asked, trying not to let her mouth fall open as she looked around the huge penthouse, the blue hue of the swimming pool lights glowing beyond the glass fronted window that gave a spectacular of the entire city, the open plan living room bigger than the entire Gryffindor dormitory. 

'I think he's a bit calmer now,’ Theo said. ‘He's just down there.’ He pointed down a long hallway. 'He and Aurora are staying in the master suite. Just knock and go in, but…’ Theo looked a little nervous. 'Maybe don't tell him I called you. He said he didn’t want to bother you any more.'

'What?' Hermione asked, incredulously. 'Then why on Earth will he think I’m here? Why would I just randomly turn up at eleven pm at night?’

'I doubt he’ll care why.’ Theo said. ‘I just know he'll be glad to see you. You’re the only one he really trusts when it comes to Aurora.' 

Hermione stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. 'Go,' Theo said. 'I don't know what the hell happened but I'm pretty sure something fell off.'

‘WHAT?’  Harry spluttered from where he still stood in the entryway, now looking wildly concerned. 

'I don't know.' Theo shrugged. 'All I know is I went in and Malfoy was upset. He was holding Aurora and saying something had fallen off. Now I don't know much about babies but even I’m pretty sure things aren't supposed to fall off them.’ 

Hermione stared at him for a moment, trying to process the utterly insane sentence he'd just delivered so nonchalantly, whilst still seeming wholly unable to look anywhere other than at Harry.

Realising she was unlikely to get any sense from Theo in his apparently Confunded state, Hermione turned and made her way down the long hallway, her feet padding softly over the thick carpet. She got to the closed door at the end of the hallway and put her ear to the wood, listening for any sound inside. There was nothing. 

Very quietly, she knocked on the door before pushing it open with a small creak.

The room was, as expected, absolutely massive, a king size bed dominating the center with a large ornate wardrobe pushed up against one wall and a dresser against the other. The bedding was pure white, soft and fluffy. There was a bathroom off to one side, and Hermione got a glimpse of further shining ivory tiles. 

In amongst all the grandeur were the inevitable signs that a baby had taken residence. A changing mat on top of the dresser, several folded baby-grows too. There were a stack of nappies and some clean bottles lined up.
At the foot of the bed, Pansy Parkinson sat on a large white sofa, dressed in black as always, her legs crossed elegantly at the ankles.

Next to her was the Moses basket where Aurora dozed peacefully, Draco’s (Hermione's!) observation charms glowing softly above her head. And there, folded up on the sofa, his head in Pansy's lap as her fingers stroked gently through his soft blonde hair, was the prone form of Draco Malfoy who was fast asleep, his bottom lip pouting in a way that made him look even more like his daughter, if that was actually possible.
His hands were pushed between his knees and there were several crumpled tissues discarded on the floor below him. As she stepped closer Hermione saw that Malfoy's face was once again pale and wan, dark shadows carved out under splayed lashes.

Pansy looked up at Hermione, bringing one finger up to her lips.

'Aurora’s umbilical cord came off?' Hermione asked quietly, having finally figured out what Theo meant.

Pansy nodded. 'I think it scared the life out of him because there was a bit of blood,’ she said. ‘And then he realised it was the last tie Aurora had to Astoria, you know, physically, and it just completely took him out.' She looked down at Draco, smoothing his hair tenderly off of his face.

'He's meeting with the funeral planners tomorrow too.' Pansy whispered. 'God knows how that's going to go.'

'Oh Christ.' Hermione replied, her heart sinking.

'I can't even imagine-' her words were cut off as Draco suddenly shifted, groaning as he rose into wakefulness. He stretched, bloodshot grey eyes blinking at her as he finally focused on her face. He pushed himself up, the back of his hair sticking up in wild blonde spikes.

'Granger?' He asked, his voice rough and gravelly. ‘Are you okay? What…what are you doing here?' 

Chapter Text

‘Granger?’ Malfoy asked again. ‘Is everything okay?’ He lowered black-socked feet to the carpet as he straightened, scrubbing at his eyes and peering at her. 

‘What’s the time?’ He looked down at his watch. ‘It’s late, I-‘ he suddenly paused, realisation dawning. ‘Wait…Did Nott call you?’

Hermione hesitated, having still not thought of a decent excuse as to why else she would be there.

‘For fucks sake,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘I’m really sorry, Granger.’ He looked utterly mortified. ‘I told him I didn’t want to bother you and…’ grey eyes flicked up and down her bare legs. ‘I can see you were busy… out somewhere or-‘ he trailed off, looking helplessly at Pansy, who was watching the interaction with an expression Hermione couldn’t quite decipher. 

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said again. ‘He’s a dickhead for doing that. I’m fine. It’s not fair on you to have been dragged here in the middle of the night.’

Hermione stood mutely, unsure what to do. Should she go? Was that what he was saying? 

‘Right,’ Pansy said, clapping her hands together softly. ‘I’m going to head off, love. Blaise is waiting for me to get home.’ She fixed Draco with a pointed look. 
‘Hermione is here now, why don’t you ask her some of the questions on your list before she leaves? Hmm?’ 

Malfoy was silent for a moment, looking between Pansy and Hermione, worrying the swell of his bottom lip between his teeth.

Something was going on between him and Pansy. Hermione could see lots of eye-widening and not very subtle head jerks in her direction. Did they… think she couldn’t see them?
After a few more seconds of this, Malfoy’s jaw firmed, and he finally turned back to her. 

‘Would you mind?’ He asked, ‘I won’t keep you too long. There were just a few things I wasn’t sure about.’ 

Pansy snorted, and Malfoy pulled a face, but there was no real anger in it.  
He looked fragile, Hermione thought, and clearly Pansy could see it too. 

‘Come here, you,’ she muttered, pulling him to her in a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around his neck as he slid his own around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head.
‘Blaise will be here for nine tomorrow morning, okay?’ Pansy murmured, gently smoothing down the collar of Malfoy’s rumpled blue shirt as she released him. ‘What time do you have to be at the funeral home?’ 

‘Eleven.’ The words were pushed out around an audible swallow. ‘The Greengrasses are meeting us there.’

Pansy grimaced. ‘I’ll come too. If you want me to?’ 

‘What about work?’ 

‘Draco,’ she admonished. ‘Do you really think I’d prioritise anything over you right now? I can help rich witches choose clothes any time. Plus, that’s why I have assistants.’

‘Alright,’ Malfoy looked relieved. ‘I’ve already told Theo he’s not allowed to come.’ 

‘Good plan. The last thing you need is him launching himself at Cyrus Greengrass across the funeral director’s desk.’

Malfoy laughed, and Hermione was reminded of how much it changed his face when the little crinkles reappeared, along with a flash of straight, white teeth. 

‘Theo’s the world's best guard dog, but he can’t be trusted off his leash in a situation like tomorrow.’ 

‘Most definitely not.’ Pansy agreed, smiling fondly. 

They both looked over at Hermione, who was still standing awkwardly just inside the door.

‘Hermione darling, you’re an angel for coming here so late.’  Pansy rose from the sofa. ‘I can only imagine what kinds of texts Theo sent to get you here.’ Her eyes followed the same path Malfoy’s had done, gliding up and down Hermione’s bare legs. ‘Gorgeous shoes.’ She remarked, clearly surprised. ‘Chanel?’ 

‘Oh,’ Hermione felt a blush colour her cheeks. ‘Yes, shoes are a bit of a weakness of mine.’ 

Pansy laughed delightedly. ‘Is that so? Well, you are full of surprises, aren’t you, Golden Girl?’ 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

‘Anyway,’ Pansy continued, picking up her handbag and coat from the bed.‘I’ll go and say goodnight to Theo and then get home to my husband.’

‘He’s just out in the sitting room with Harry,’ Hermione informed her, suddenly remembering she’d left the two men alone. 

Pansy’s eyes snapped to hers, and Malfoy abruptly sat back from where he’d been leaning into the Moses basket, fiddling with Aurora’s blanket.  Two sets of jaws dropped wide open.

‘Harry… Potter?’ Pansy’s expression was positively scandalised. ‘You’re telling me Harry Potter is out there, in Theo’s sitting room? Hold on, is it just him, or did you bring the Weasel too?’ 

Hermione frowned at the old insult, but then she thought about the way her friends referred to Malfoy and chose to ignore it. ‘No, it’s just Harry,’ she said, shrugging. ‘He didn’t want me coming alone so late at night, so he accompanied me here.’ 

‘And now he’s here, in Theo’s house?’ Malfoy reiterated. ‘Potter? And he’s… okay with you coming here? He knows it’s to see me, right?’ 

‘Yes,’ Hermione huffed. ‘He knows all about the past few days. He’s my best friend, Draco. And, he’s fine with it.’ She held his gaze, hoping that he understood she meant more than just bringing her to Theo’s. 

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, one hand coming up to rub over his face.
‘Oh, right.. that’s.. good then.’ He didn’t look remotely convinced.

‘This is just fabulous.’ Pansy clapped her hands again, clearly delighted at the news of Harry being in the penthouse.  
‘Christmas came early for some of us, at least.’

Malfoy looked confused but Pansy only turned with a smug grin, black hair swishing.

‘I’m going to leave him to it,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he’ll appreciate any interruptions. See you tomorrow, babe.’ She waved in Hermione’s direction. ‘Night, darling.’  
Pansy stepped delicately into the large Floo on the back wall and called out, ‘The Parkinson-Zabini Townhouse,’ and in a flash of green light, she was gone, leaving Hermione and Malfoy alone. 

The room fell silent aside from the sound of Aurora’s snuffling, newborn breaths. Malfoy’s eyes rose to meet hers, and Hermione was suddenly frozen in place, pinned by his gaze and choked by all the things that she’d wanted to say to him for days, unsure where to begin. 

Malfoy seemed similarly affected, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he inhaled sharply, then let it out again, as though he’d started to speak and then given up. 

It was the first time they’d been alone since he’d given her the card, and she thought that maybe she should address the things he’d written, but somehow, this didn’t feel like the right time.
Hermione could only imagine how hard it had been for Malfoy to write those words. The choice he’d made to face the terrible thing that existed between them and lay himself bare. It all just felt too raw to confront so soon. 

Thankfully, they were saved by Aurora, who let out a small cry, making them both jump. Malfoy leaned forward, reaching into the Moses basket and unwrapping the blanket she’d been swaddled in. 

‘What’s the matter, little lady?’ He murmured, lifting her up. His hands spanned Aurora’s entire torso, his index fingers lifted to support the back of her head.  
She still had the newborn scrunch, her tiny legs tucked up under her bum like the cutest little frog Hermione had ever seen.
She smiled as Malfoy planted an adoring kiss on the baby’s forehead, placing her on his chest and patting her nappy-clad bottom in a comforting rhythm, shushing her gently.
The difference in his confidence levels over just a week was marked. He looked like he was made for fatherhood.

‘She’s due a feed soon,’ he remarked, glancing at his wristwatch. ‘Will you…will you sit? I’m sorry, I should have asked before now.’

Hermione smiled uncertainly, but she made her way over the couch, slipping off her heels and her coat before sitting down next to Malfoy and tipping her head back onto the headrest, turning to look at the side of his face.  
After a moment, he did the same and she was reminded that they’d sat the exact same way together on his first night at the hospital.

‘Hi.’ She said as their eyes met, and he laughed softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

‘Hi, Granger. Thanks for coming.’ 

The awkwardness dissolved, both of them clearly choosing not to bring up the card.

They were quiet for a moment as Aurora settled, drifting back off to sleep. Malfoy continued patting her bum, smoothing his palm over the soft cotton of the mint green baby grow she wore.  
Hermione reached up to gently stroke a finger over the back of Aurora’s hand, her heart squeezing. She had already changed in just a few days, her cheeks filling out a little, the blonde fuzz on her head a bit fluffier. 

‘Granger? Can I ask you something?’ Malfoy murmured after a minute or two, pressing his face to the top of Aurora’s head. 

‘Of course.’ 

He paused, looking hesitant. 

‘Have you... have you ever found something or someone, so cute, that you get this sort of inexplicable urge to just.. eat them?’ 

Hermione laughed, quickly swallowing it down as she realised that the question was serious. 

Malfoy frowned, grey eyes searching hers.‘Because that’s how I feel all the time,’ he  admitted. ‘I don’t, you know, actually want to eat her. But I look at Aurora and I feel like I love her so much it’s scary. It’s almost like I can’t control it. It’s overwhelming. I want to just…’ he mimed taking a big bite out of the top of Aurora’s head. ‘What is that? Is there something wrong with me?’

Hermione pressed her lips together, fighting to hold back her smile. He just looked so very concerned. 

‘Okay, listen, Draco,’ she began. ‘Those feelings are completely normal and nothing to worry about. Cuteness aggression is actually a very common biological response, a release of the hormone oxytocin. When that hormone is released, it compels the individual to protect and defend what they consider vulnerable. In your case - Aurora. It’s just your natural parental instincts going into overdrive.’

‘Cuteness aggression.’ Malfoy was silent for a moment, seemingly considering her answer and deeming it legitimate.
‘You really do know everything, don’t you?’ He looked inordinately relieved.‘That’s good to know, because yeah, it definitely feels like that. It’s like this…this primal thing, taking over me, I’ve never felt anything even remotely close.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to ever let her out of my sight. At the moment, I find it hard to leave her, even to go to the bathroom or something, I’ve started bringing the Moses basket with me so I can see her while I shower. I can’t sleep, even when she does. I know it’s not rational, but-‘ he sighed again. ‘Things can go wrong so quickly, you know?’ 

Hermione sobered, the laughter that had been stuck in her throat transmuting into something else. The squeeze in her chest back again. 

‘Those feelings are all also normal, and more than understandable. This is all very new and sudden.’  
She paused, unsure how much he’d want to talk about his earlier meltdown.
‘Theo said it’s been another rough night?’ 

He let out a small, bitter laugh. 

‘I feel like I’d better get used to it. Every time I think I’m in control, something happens and it hits me again - that Astoria is gone, that she’s not experiencing all the things she was so excited about…It’s just so fucking unfair.’

His chest hitched and he swallowed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, gathering himself.
‘The guilt is overwhelming, Granger.’

The words took effort, forced out from a clenched jaw.  ‘Don’t tell me I shouldn’t feel it, because I do. Not just the fact that I wasn’t there. It’s - there are so many other things, things I can’t explain to you now. But seriously, it’s fucking killing me.’

Hermione hesitated, wanting to make sure she said the right thing. Malfoy barked another humourless laugh.
‘Fuck.’ It came out louder than she thought he’d intended, Aurora stirring briefly on his chest. ‘Why am I telling you all this? Why do I keep dumping all my shit on you? And why do you keep putting up with it? Why? Why haven’t you told me to fuck off, why did you even come here? I don’t deserve this from you, Granger. I don’t, I-‘ 

‘Please stop, Draco,’ Hermione whispered.

He did. Immediately.

She turned to him, anger blazing through her, sudden and intense.  
‘No more of that. I don’t want to hear it. I’m here because I want to be. Why? Truthfully, I don’t actually know. I can’t even explain it myself. I don’t want to have to. I - I wanted to come. When Theo asked me to - I just wanted to. I care about Aurora, and yes, I care about you. I do. I want to see you succeed, I want to see you overcome this tragedy as best you can - together. Your whole life, you’ve been forced into so many situations that I don’t believe you ever wanted. I watched you, in sixth year, I saw how tortured you were, and now I’m watching it again. I want to help this time. Instead of allowing these stupid, preordained barriers that have always existed between us to win. I want to show that we’ve moved on. I’m sick of people telling me I care too much, Draco. I’ve heard enough of that tonight, so just…just let me be here, and don’t question it.’

Hermione hadn’t realised she was crying until she saw Malfoy’s eyes widen, a look of abject horror on his face as he watched two hot tears roll down her cheeks. 

‘Granger?’ Her name was a hoarse whisper. ‘Oh, god. Don’t cry. Please. I don’t- I’m sorry. Oh Shit. Fucking bollocks. What did I do?’

‘No. Sorry, it’s not you. It’s not- I’ve had a rough night. I shouldn’t-‘ Hermione was hideously embarrassed by her loss of control, especially in front of this man who had just lost his bloody wife, and was having to watch her crying over some ill-judged words by a well-meaning but infuriating ex-boyfriend. It was ridiculous. 

‘I’m fine… It’s nothing.’ She told him after several long seconds, her voice forcibly level. 

‘It’s clearly not nothing.’ Malfoy scoffed, nose scrunching. ‘Humour me. I could do with the distraction, actually, Granger. I’d love to talk about something that’s not me.’

‘Oh, honestly,’  she laughed. ‘The last thing you need to hear about is my pathetic little non-drama.’ 

Malfoy frowned, brows knitting tightly together. 

‘Try me.’ 

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, letting out a long, calming breath.
Then, for reasons she didn’t want to consider, she did.
She told Malfoy all about Neville. About how they’d found each other in the aftermath of the war, both untethered and lonely. How they’d taken comfort in the initial passionate bond that had formed between them, the way they’d tied themselves tightly together like they could stop the other from floating away, knotting a rope that became harder and harder to untie, even as it began to rub, burning with friction. The rope that eventually began to feel a little bit too much like a noose tightening around Hermione’s neck. 

Malfoy’s knee bounced a little as she spoke, his eyes narrowing at intervals, occasionally making little ‘huh’ sounds, or giving the odd snort of indignation. 

She kept going even as he rose to his feet, handing Aurora to her to hold as he prepared a bottle and then taking her back to feed her in the crook of his arm. By the time she got to the events of the night just gone, repeating the bitter words Neville had thrown at her in the pub corridor, Malfoy’s jaw was rock-solid, his eyebrows raised incredulously. 

‘But, you said the guy is now engaged to someone else? Then why the fuck is he making your business his?’  

‘Exactly!’ She exclaimed, passing him a burp cloth from the arm of the sofa as he dabbed distractedly at a small pool of spit-up on his shoulder.
‘I do think it’s coming from a place of concern rather than anything else. Neville is a good person. It’s just misdirected and ill-timed. It’s not his place to tell me how to live my life any more. Nor his place to give me advice on how to look after myself.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘What do you mean, ‘hmm’?’

Malfoy looked thoughtful, mercurial grey eyes appraising her from where he stood, rocking Aurora back to sleep in his arms.

‘What, Draco?’

He pursed his lips.  
‘I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, and don’t get me wrong, some of the things you’ve said make me want to hunt Longbottom down and fucking hurt him.’ Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.
‘But, maybe he does have a point.’  
He said the words with a grimace, as though they physically pained him.
‘Your health is a gift, Granger. It’s not something you should take for granted. I, of all people, know how fortunate a person can be to receive your care and attention as a Healer. You are amazing at your job. You’re changing people’s lives every day. But it is just a job. The hospital has continued without you whilst you’ve been off this week. It has had to. It’s amazing that you love your work, and by all means, you should continue the way you have been, but only if it makes you happy. Because those are the most important things. Your health and your happiness.’

‘I agree, but-‘ 

‘And are you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Are you happy? With your life right now… is it what you want it to be?’

Hermione could do nothing except stare at him. The weight of Malfoy’s question settling over her, pressing down on her chest.

It was back. The urge to laugh, or to cry. The total, insane probability that she would find herself here, at one o'clock in the morning, a post-wine headache beginning at the base of her skull, discussing her life choices with Draco bloody Malfoy, who was currently eyeballing her expectantly, looking like he actually cared about her answer.

‘Yes,’ she said emphatically. ‘I’m very happy with how my life is going.’  
When he said nothing, just continued looking at her in that same horribly disarming way, Hermione continued.  
‘I have the possibility of a promotion at work, I’m comfortable money-wise, I have a good social life, amazing friends. Harry and I- ‘

She stopped abruptly, one hand flying to her mouth. ‘Merlin, Harry.’ She gasped.
’Gods, he’s been waiting over an hour. I’m surprised he hasn’t come looking for me. He’s got work in the morning.’ She stood up, glad for the change in subject. ‘I’ll just go and check if he’s okay.’ 

‘Sure.’ Malfoy nodded, although he didn’t seem at all keen to see Harry, lingering in the bedroom instead, fussing quietly over Aurora. 

As Hermione made her way down the long hallway, she was surprised to hear laughter, genuine and warm, coming from the direction of the kitchen. She stepped into the large space to find Harry and Theo seated at the massive glass dining table in the center of the room. They were facing each other, Theo sipping from a generous glass of white wine, Harry’s hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. 

‘Slughorn really believed that it was a study group,’ Theo snickered, practically bent over with mirth. ‘God knows how I managed to convince him that we were practising potions every week when none of us ever had the foggiest idea which one was Dittany and which one was Fluxweed - Oh, Granger, hullo. Draco’s finally letting you leave then, is he?’

Hermione ignored the fact that Theo didn’t seem particularly pleased about her arrival, his wide grin fading a little as he dragged his eyes away from Harry. ‘Where is Malfoy?’ He craned his neck down the hallway. ‘Is he alright now? Has he asked you all the questions on his list?’

‘I- he…not yet.’ She replied, looking between the two men. ‘I just came out to say sorry, Harry. I wasn’t expecting to be here so long.’

Harry didn’t respond. He was still smiling, his chin resting in his palm, green eyes on Theo’s face. He looked a little befuddled, as though he was drinking too, even though she was sure there was only tea in his mug. 

 ‘Harry?’ She repeated, resisting the urge to wave her hand in front of his face. 

‘Hmm?’ He finally looked at her, and gave a startled blink, as though he’d only just realised she was there.  
‘Mi?’ There was an immediate stiffening of his body language, the loose, dopey grin disappearing in an instant.  
‘You’ve been crying. What’s wrong? Are you okay?’

Hermione touched a hand to her puffy face. She’d forgotten Harry would notice immediately. 

‘Oh, god, yes.’ She said in a rush. ‘I’m fine, Harry, honestly. But, I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet, and I know you’ve got work early in the morning. I was just going to say, you don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be able to Apparate now.’ 

There was a sound from behind her. Hermione turned to see Malfoy leaning against the counter, Aurora nestled in her usual spot along his forearm. His grey eyes settled on Harry, a wary tension stiffening the lines of his body despite the casual pose he’d affected. The tendons in his neck were taut, the fingers that rested on the counter flexing a little.

‘Malfoy,’ Harry’s voice was a little breathless, his eyes softening as they landed on Aurora.
He rose, chair scraping back from the table as he crossed the room.  
‘I was so sorry to hear about your loss.’ He murmured, and Malfoy nodded, awkwardly taking Harry’s extended hand, not quite meeting his eye. 

‘I’ll make sure Granger gets home safe.’ His voice was low. ‘We both will.’ He nodded towards Theo, who had also tensed, his eyes flickering between Harry and Malfoy and then to Hermione. He nodded his agreement. ‘Of course.’  

‘I - ah-‘ Harry looked at his watch, eyes widening. ‘Merlin! Shit. Where the hell has that time gone?’

Theo’s lips twitched. Harry dithered. 

He looked back at her. ‘Are you sure, Mi? It’s late for you, too.’

‘I know. But I don’t have work tomorrow, and all I’ve done is sleep these last few days, so I’m not tired yet. We haven’t really gotten started on Draco’s list of questions, so I’m happy to stay a little longer.’

‘Oh…okay.’ Harry looked somewhat dejected, seemingly reluctant to leave. He turned back to Theo, but neither man said anything. They just…stared at each other. 

The moment stretched out, Harry and Theo’s silent eye contact holding for so long that eventually Malfoy cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably behind her. 

‘Yes, well,’ Harry muttered, clearing his own throat a few times. ‘Regrettably, I do actually have to work, and if you’re sure you’re okay, Mione…’ he trailed off, but he was still looking at Theo, not her. 

‘I’m fine. You can go home and get some rest.’ She finished for him. 

‘Yes.’ With what looked like a huge effort, Harry returned to the table, picking up his mug and placing it on the sink. ‘Thanks for the tea, Nott, it was… great… lovely.. uh, just how I like it.’ 

Theo nodded, one corner of his mouth slanting slightly. 

‘Yeah, me too. I mean… no problem. Thanks for delivering Granger to us.’ 

‘I’ll see you out,’ Malfoy said quietly, and Hermione instinctively understood that he wanted to speak to Harry alone.

Harry bent and gave her a quick peck on her cheek. ‘Bye, love. Make sure you let me know when you get in.’ She gave his hand a quick squeeze, nodding as he stepped away and began trailing uncertainly behind Malfoy. 

‘Uh, Harry?’ Theo called, and Harry turned quickly, spinning on his heel.

‘Yes?’ 

‘What is it you actually do, just out of interest?’ 

‘I’m an Auror.’ Harry informed him, a small, self-conscious smile curving his lips as he pushed his hands into his pockets. 

‘An…Auror?’ Theo repeated weakly. ‘So you wear your wand in like…a thigh holster?’

Malfoy pulled a face from the doorway, his eyes meeting Hermione’s as he mouthed ‘What the fuck?’

Hermione shrugged, watching Harry’s cheeks go uncharacteristically pink. 

‘Sometimes,’ he replied. ‘Or sometimes in a chest holster, like this one.’ He held open his tweed coat for a moment, giving Theo a flash of the leather straps banding over his shoulders and chest.

Theo groaned audibly, leaning forward to let his forehead thunk onto the table.

‘Salazar, have mercy.’ He whispered against the glass as Harry grinned gleefully at the top of his tousled head.

Malfoy loitered in the doorway, beginning to look impatient, and eventually Harry followed him out, leaving Theo and Hermione alone in the kitchen. 

‘Granger?’ Theo’s voice was muffled where he was still face-down on the table. 

‘Yes, Theo?’  

‘Have you ever found something, or someone, so cute that you get this sort of inexplicable urge to just… eat them?’

Hermione was still giggling to herself when Malfoy came back into the kitchen ten minutes later. He looked drained, his expression drawn, but it softened a little when he saw her smiling. 

‘Theo’s gone to bed?’

‘Yes.’ She replied quietly. ‘He said he had some urgent ‘business’ to take care of.’

Malfoy looked baffled for a moment, then a look of horrified disgust crossed his face, and Hermione realised his conclusion as to what Theo had to ‘take care of’ must be the same as hers. She giggled again. 

‘Oh for fucks… they weren’t…‘ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘You don’t think those two-?’ 

Hermione shrugged, still smiling. ‘I wouldn’t be too surprised.’ 

‘Circe.’ He shook his head. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind staying?’

‘I really don’t mind.’

He smiled at last. ‘Okay, Granger. Thank you. Can I get you a drink at least?’

Hermione shrugged, glancing down at the time. ‘A coffee, maybe?’ 

‘Coffee at one am? Diabolical.’

But he made one for himself too, adding in three generous spoonfuls of sugar. A few minutes later they were heading back down the hallway to the master bedroom, Malfoy levitating a tray of coffee and biscuits in front of them, Aurora now draped over his shoulder, her rosebud mouth open as she dozed, dribbling onto her dad’s shirt. 

He sat carefully on the sofa, making sure not to jostle Aurora. Hermione followed, nibbling on a biscuit and sipping her deliciously rich coffee gratefully.

She startled when she felt something a moment later, looking down to see Malfoy’s black-socked foot nudging against hers. She lifted her eyes to find him already looking at her. 

‘Alright?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Better now. You?’

‘Yeah,’ he sighed with a small smile. ‘I’m better now, Granger.’ 

Chapter Text

Malfoy waited until Hermione had finished her coffee before drinking any of his own.

He passed Aurora over easily enough, but Hermione still saw it there - behind his eyes and in his body language. He didn't want to let her go.

Malfoy was always at his most relaxed when Aurora was pressed up against his chest, her small body curled between his bicep and forearm, his face tilted down to hers. Hermione saw the way his breathing evened out, the tension in his muscles bleeding away. She thought that at this point, he was only putting Aurora down in her Moses basket out of absolute necessity or his own exhaustion, other than that, she was perpetually in his arms. 

She ignored the niggling urge to warn him about separation anxiety in the future, it just seemed cruel at this juncture. Both Malfoys were happiest when they were connected, and right now, their mutual dependence on contact-comfort would only serve to strengthen the father/daughter bond. 

Aurora grumbled in her sleep during the transfer from Malfoy's arms to Hermione's, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes squeezing tightly shut. Hermione quickly turned her body inward, cocooning Aurora in her arms the way she’d always found settled babies the quickest. She pulled the same move that Malfoy had earlier, patting her bum and rocking her slightly. After a few seconds, Aurora calmed, her facial expression smoothing out in a way that directly contrasted with her father's own. Malfoy was rigid, watching them over the rim of his coffee cup, primed and ready to take Aurora back the second he decided she needed him. 

As the baby's body relaxed and her snuffles quieted, he sat back, his posture forcibly less stiff. Regardless, Hermione saw it again, a brief flash of agony, quickly blinked away, a heavy swallow, the dip of his Adam’s apple as he pushed the wave of emotion down. 

‘Do you ever want children of your own?’ He asked after a minute or two, his voice gravelly. ‘You’re so good with them.’

Hermione looked down at Aurora, considering how truthfully to answer. She let her eyes sweep over the swell of Aurora’s peachy cheeks, her splayed lashes, the little indent between her forehead and the bridge of her nose.  

How to put into words the unending ache that came with her lifelong desire to have her own children, whilst also knowing that at thirty, motherhood was nowhere on her horizon. 

 ‘Yes,’ Hermione hoped he couldn't hear the wistfulness in her tone. ‘One day, when I find the right person.’

Thankfully, Malfoy didn't ask her anything else. He only nodded, sipping his coffee again thoughtfully, the metal of his rings clinking against the porcelain. 

'Shall we get started on your list?'

It was an obvious attempt at a quick subject change, but Malfoy allowed it. He merely nodded, draining his mug and quickly inhaling what Hermione estimated to be his third or fourth biscuit. She had to wonder if Draco was actually consuming any proper food, or if he was still living solely off sugar as a way to keep his body going. She knew only too well how unsustainable that was, and so should he, he'd already passed out once.

‘Yes…great.’ But he’d paused, a slight flush creeping up and over the runes on his neck. ‘It’s a long list, and some of the questions are quite possibly a bit… ridiculous. I just wrote them down as they came to me.'
He lowered the empty mug to his lap and peered into it, avoiding Hermione's eye as he motioned towards a towering pile of books on the bedside table.  

'Pansy did bring me over some of Astoria’s baby manuals, and I’d planned to use them to try and find out the answers, but… I opened the first one and...she'd written notes on the page, so… I just couldn’t look any more. I should have read them...before, when she asked me to. But I was busy with work. I didn’t…’

‘I’ve got plenty I can lend you,’ Hermione cut in, becoming increasingly adept at foreseeing a spiral. ‘I’ll drop them over.’ 

Grey eyes flashed to hers, lips pressing tight as he exhaled a measured breath through his nose. 

‘Alright. Thanks, Granger. That would be good.’

 A flick of his wrist and he Accioed a folded piece of parchment and his reading glasses from next to the books, smoothing out the list one-handed on his lap and then sliding the glasses onto his face. ‘Ready?’ 

Hermione nodded. ‘Hit me.’

‘Okay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Number one, now, I know we’ve already talked about this in the hospital...’

‘Draco,’ she warned with a groan. ‘If it’s about the soft spot on top of Aurora's head again, we’ve already been through this. It’s called the fontanelle, and it’s meant to be there. Aurora’s fontanelle is a perfectly normal size, and seeing her pulse there is also normal. You won’t hurt her by kissing her head gently. It will close by the time she’s a few months old. You only need to be concerned if it’s bulging excessively, or noticeably sunken in.’ 

His jaw firmed, and she saw the effort it took for him not to roll his eyes. She raised her eyebrows in challenge, and he pinched his lips together, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

‘Fine. You might have already told me that.’ 

Hermione snorted. ‘More than once.’

‘Alright, but-‘ he grimaced. ‘It’s… a hole, Granger, in my daughter’s bloody head. I feel like they should at least warn you about shit like that. I nearly expired on the fucking spot the first time I felt it.’ 

Hermione willed her eyes not to dart to the baby books as much as she willed herself not to burst out laughing. Instead, she forced her gaze down to Aurora as Malfoy put his cup on the side and whipped his glasses off, motioning for Hermione to pass his daughter back as he handed her the list in lieu of the baby.

He manoeuvred Aurora gently back into his arms with an audible sigh of relief, his body melting into the sofa, tense muscles relaxing as Aurora turned her face into his chest and snuggled in. 

Hermione read through the list, silently aware of Malfoy watching her closely, pressing small, distracted kisses to Aurora’s cheek as he waited. 

‘I told you they were ridiculous,’ he muttered after several minutes had passed and Hermione hadn’t spoken.

‘No, Draco,’ she corrected, her eyes running over the list again. ‘These questions aren’t ridiculous. You want to learn, you want to be the best dad you can be. That’s not ridiculous, it’s… it’s adorable, actually.’

Malfoy’s eyes widened and Hermione froze, immediately wanting to clap a hand over her mouth. 

Had she just called Draco Malfoy adorable?

OUT LOUD? 

Another glance up at his face confirmed she had. 

‘I- no. I didn’t mean-‘ 

Oh god. She’d just called a recently widowed man, adorable. 

She only meant how sweet it was that he cared so much about Aurora. Malfoy must know that, surely?
So why was he just staring at her? Why did he look as though she’d just smacked him clean across the face again?

‘Oh bloody, buggering hell.’ She buried her own face in her hands.
‘I’m so sorry, Draco, that’s so inappropriate. I wasn’t insinuating - I just meant- Aurora-‘ she stammered, her cheeks flaming as he suddenly barked a surprised laugh. 

This time, Hermione’s eyes were the ones to widen. She lifted her head from her hands to fix him with a hard stare. 

‘What on earth was that noise? Did you just… did you cackle at me, Draco Malfoy?’

He was still smiling, his eyes crinkling at the sides in that way they had, even as he shook his head in denial. But ‘Cackle’ really was the only word to describe the wicked sound he’d just let out, his pleasure in her embarrassment obvious. It hadn’t been a cruel laugh, though. It was teasing but good-natured. Hermione thought it was nice to see him momentarily unguarded, even if his amusement was at her expense.

‘I’m sorry, Granger,’ he said, not sounding it at all. ‘It’s just, people don’t usually tend to refer to me as adorable. Not since I was about six years old. It surprised me. Especially coming from you.’

‘Well, I’m rescinding it,’ she huffed, digging her toes into the bones on the top of his foot and making him yelp. ‘It was an accidental turn of phrase.’

‘Ow,’ he rubbed one socked foot over the other, still grinning. ‘You’re aggressive for a little one.’

Hermione glared at Malfoy, his baby tucked into his arms, grey eyes gentle, one side of his mouth curled up in amusement. Somehow, she found it hard to maintain the facade of irritation she’d been aiming for.

‘Come on,’ she grumbled instead, her mouth still trying to smile. ‘Let’s get through this list. I haven’t got all night.’

She curled her legs up underneath her, and Malfoy turned his body inwards, listening intently as Hermione made her way slowly through each question, endeavouring to answer as simply as she could. 

They talked about feeding amount and frequency as Aurora continued to gain weight, how much spit-up was normal and how much newborns should be sleeping during an average day.
She once again reassured him that Clara knew what she was doing, finally agreeing that yes, she would check Aurora’s red book again if that’s what he wanted.

Hermione showed Draco how most babygrows had little pouches in the sleeves so that he could tuck them over Aurora’s hands when she slept, so she didn’t scratch herself. The mitts kept falling off, he complained.  
They talked about baby carriers, Hermione trying in vain to convince Malfoy that things would be much easier if he had both hands free.  
He appeared slightly more amenable to the thought of a sling carrier, although he was confident Theo would immediately take the piss. 

Finally, after around thirty minutes, they got to the last question -  the one Malfoy was the most anxious about.

‘I’ve given her some little sponge baths, like they did in the hospital,’ he explained. ‘But now her… her cord has fallen off. I thought she probably needed a real bath?’ He looked absolutely terrified at the prospect, and Hermione could only imagine how nervous he’d be doing it alone for the first time. 

Choosing to ignore the lateness of the hour, she convinced him to fill the oversized bathroom sink, holding Aurora while he rolled his shirtsleeves and she showed him how to test the water temperature by dipping his elbow in. 

They added in a little of the baby-friendly soap he’d been using for the sponge baths, the gentle lavender fragrance permeating the bathroom but doing absolutely nothing to relax Malfoy. He undressed Aurora painfully slowly, asking Hermione a million questions along the way.  
Aurora was awake, blinking slowly around the bright bathroom, her little fists waving wildly in the air, legs drawn up to her tummy. Malfoy bent over the changing mat, blonde hair falling into his eyes, talking and talking to Aurora like he always did, a ceaseless stream of one-sided conversation, his eyes rapt on his daughter’s face. 

‘It will be fine,’ she reassured him again after he told her he’d changed his mind. ‘You’re not going to let Aurora drown.’ Malfoy hummed an uncertain sound, frowning down at the sink as he rocked Aurora absently, one hand curved under her nappy-clad bum, the other cradling her head against his chest.

‘What if she slips? What if I drop her and she inhales a bit of water? Secondary drowning is a real thing, you know, Granger.’

‘We’re both watching. I promise I won’t let that happen, and neither will you.’ Hermione deliberately injected a level of firmness into her tone that she knew tended to work on him. ‘She’s a week old now, Draco, so it’s time she had a real bath.’

He held her eye for a moment, nostrils flaring. 

‘Okay, fine. Let’s just get it done.’

He cast a cushioning charm over the sink, and then finally, the nappy came off. 

Once Malfoy was in position, holding Aurora just above the surface of the water, Hermione stepped closer so that she was just behind him, watching his reflection in the huge gilded mirror above the sink. 

He didn’t look up, his eyes locked on Aurora, but Hermione could feel the tension in his body, an anxious heat radiating off him in waves. His magic rippled too, whipped up by his nerves, racing through his veins and escaping through his pores, a dark, heady thing curling outwards to slowly fill the room along with the scent of the bubble bath. 

When she thought he was finally ready, Hermione pulled up the long sleeves of her black dress and then, carefully, slowly, she slid her forearm along his elbow, pressing her palm to the back of his hand, the one that cradled Aurora’s head. 

Malfoy let out a slow breath, practically trembling as they began lowering Aurora into the water together, Hermione guiding from behind, watching their reflection in the slightly steamy glass.

Aurora cried out a little as her feet touched the water and Malfoy flinched. Hermione tensed up, expecting him to immediately back out, but the baby quickly settled, her body going limp as the warm water lapped over her delicate skin. 

‘You’re doing great,’ she murmured softly, still sensing Malfoy’s reticence through every taut inch of his body. He huffed out a sound of acknowledgement, grey eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second in the mirror. 

The bottom half of Aurora’s body was now completely submerged, but she was calm, her eyes wide, her feet kicking slightly, sending small splashes over the edge of the porcelain, soaking her father’s front. 

‘Alright?’

A nod. ‘She’s not crying at least. I think she quite likes it.’

As she felt Malfoy’s body begin to relax, Hermione carefully began slipping her arm out from under his, allowing Draco to gradually take control.
Eventually, she stepped right back, waiting for his reaction. He barely appeared to have noticed, still smiling adoringly down at Aurora, his forearm resting under her head.  
Hermione reached over the counter and passed him the little duck-shaped sponge they’d placed next to the bubble bath. 

He murmured his thanks, dipping the sponge into the warm water and squeezing out the excess. Then, with excruciating care, he began rubbing it in small, bubbly circles over the wet blonde fuzz on Aurora’s head, over her arms and legs, squeezing water onto her tummy until the small wound on her belly button was clean and pink.

Hermione watched him in the mirror, and she wondered if she’d ever seen a man more devoted.  It shone in his eyes with the way he looked at Aurora, radiating out from every cell in his body - utter reverence, fierce protectiveness. He really was a good father, she thought, not for the first time.

Eventually, Aurora began to get a little restless, and Hermione reached for a thick, fluffy white towel on the door, holding it open so that Malfoy could carefully lift the baby out and place her into it, snuggling her tightly as she finally began to cry.

As he turned, she saw the moment his eyes snagged on her Mudblood scar, the small smile dropping instantly from his lips, his throat clicking with the force of his swallow. She pulled her arm back the second she was able to, yanking down her damp sleeve and turning away. 

The next ten minutes were much less relaxed than the bath had been. Aurora was deeply unhappy at the sensation of her wet skin bared to the cooler air of the bathroom, and there was a slightly frantic scramble to get her nappy on and dress her. Hermione helped by fetching and heating a bottle, the only thing that worked to settle the now extremely disgruntled baby. 

By the time she’d settled again, Malfoy looked as drained as Hermione felt. However, as they slumped together on the sofa, heads tipped back in their now familiar position, he begrudgingly agreed that the bath had gone well and that he was feeling more confident for the next one. 

‘Somehow, I don’t think Theo will be quite as competent an assistant.’ He murmured and Hermione laughed.

 ‘He’ll try his best.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Malfoy agreed, his tone brimming with affection. ‘He always does.’ 

At around four o’clock, as Hermione was preparing to leave, Malfoy’s phone beeped with a message. Surprised, he crossed the room and picked it up off the dresser. 

‘Shit.’ The word was muttered under his breath. 

‘Everything okay?’ 

‘Yes, fine, except Pans has woken up sick, she’s worried about making Aurora ill tomorrow if she comes to the funeral home.’  
He bit his lip, fingers paused over the buttons as he debated his reply. 

‘I was thinking it would have been good to have her there, to take Aurora if things got heated with the Greengrasses.’ He sounded very much like that was exactly what he expected to happen. 

‘I can come?’ The words had left Hermione’s lips before she’d even fully thought them though. 

Malfoy turned to her, frowning. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Granger. I’d never ask that of you. You don’t need to be involved in any of this. No. Absolutely not.’

His tone was resolute, and Hermione didn’t even attempt to argue, belatedly realising that it was sure to be a private moment, and a very emotional one at that. She was out of line for even suggesting it.

But, a moment later, Malfoy’s eyes were on her again, his expression pained.
‘It’s just-‘ he chewed the inside of his cheek so aggressively she thought he must be drawing blood.  
‘I can’t predict how difficult Cyrus Greengrass is going to make this. I really don’t want Aurora around any shouting. I could ask Theo, but…’ 

‘Draco,’ Hermione said softly. ‘Let me come. I’ll wait outside, and I can just take Aurora for a walk if you need me to. I won’t intrude.’

‘But-‘ he began. 

‘No ‘buts.’ Hermione interrupted, sensing that he needed her to. ‘I’m coming. It’s Whitesnapple’s funeral home, yes?’ She tried not to think about the last time she’d been there, supporting Ron as the Weasley’s made Fred’s funeral plans. 

Malfoy’s shoulders sagged, his tone defeated. 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Right, I’ll see you there at eleven.’ 

After another brief hesitation, he nodded, granting her a small, grateful smile and after that, they didn’t talk about it any more. 

Malfoy insisted on walking Hermione home rather than allowing her to Apparate alone.

He wrapped Aurora up in a snowsuit and blanket and cast a series of warming charms around her before placing her into a beautiful Silvercross Pram.  
Aurora remained fast asleep, milk-drunk and exhausted after her bath time adventure. 

The elevator ride was much smoother this time, Malfoy’s silky voice commanding it to glide slowly down to the lobby, the muted ‘ding’ as the door opened the only thing alerting Hermione to the fact that they’d actually touched the ground. 

They stepped out of the main doors together, Malfoy dipping his head silently to the doorman, who quickly flicked his wand at the steps to make a smooth ramp for the baby carriage. If he was surprised to see Hermione and Malfoy leaving together at four in the morning, the doorman didn’t show it. He was clearly wary of Malfoy, his body language even more stiff and formal than it had been earlier that night. 

They walked companionably through the dark, silent streets of Wizarding London back towards the flat, Hermione’s heels clicking on the pavement. She could see their breath curling out into the cold air, but she wasn’t remotely cold. She chose not to mention the fact that Malfoy must have extended Aurora’s warming charm to cover her when he’d noticed her shivering as they stepped out of the glass doors of Theo’s building. 

They talked a little about small, inconsequential things - Hermione’s favourite restaurants in that part of London, how long she and Harry had lived together, where they’d lived before.

Malfoy asked some questions about Ginny’s budding Quidditch career - he’d followed it closely, Hermione was surprised to discover. He knew which teams she’d played for and was fervent in his belief that Ginny was a far better chaser than Shae Philips, one of her rivals for the position in the upcoming championships.

‘Do you still play?’ Hermione asked, curious about his life before Astoria’s death. 

‘Yes, a little.’ He replied, gazing down at Aurora’s sleeping face. ‘Probably not again for a little while now though. I’m likely to be a bit busy.’

Hermione hadn’t even noticed they’d gotten to the ground floor door of her flat until Malfoy stopped, looking up at the high rise. ‘Thornbush Hill, flat nine?’ 

The lift was broken, so he couldn’t walk her up, but he insisted on waiting outside, stamping his feet against the cold as she unlocked the main door and Apparated directly to her floor. 

She stuck her head out of the hallway window, waving to let him know she’d made it the short trip upstairs unharmed. 

‘See you at eleven,’ she mouthed, not wanting to wake her neighbours. 

He gave her a small salute, a tired grin and then turned, angling the pram back down the rain-slicked street. 

Hermione watched Malfoy and Aurora until she couldn’t see them anymore, following his tall, broad-shouldered silhouette, his hair glinting under the orange streetlights. She waited until they turned a corner and disappeared from view, then she finally let herself in, bypassing the wards of her flat and knocking on Harry’s door to let him know she was home.
After a short cuddle with Harry, she dragged herself to bed, falling into yet another deep, exhausted sleep.

Harry had left for work when Hermione awoke the next morning. He’d text her to ask how her night had gone, wondering if she wanted to go for dinner with him and Ron later that night. She replied in the affirmative, imagining she’d certainly be done with Malfoy by seven pm. 

She showered and dressed before calling Ginny to apologise for having to miss breakfast. Hermione felt extremely guilty about it, but Ginny was as easy-going as ever, promising to call in the next day before she left for France, and Hermione headed back to work.  
‘Are you okay, though, Mi?’ Ginny’s concern was clear, even over the phone. ‘You seemed super out of sorts last night.’ 

‘I’m fine,’ she promised. ‘I’ll explain everything tomorrow.’

Ginny accepted the excuse without argument, a fresh wave of guilt pulsing through Hermione at how often she’d been asked the same question by her friends in the last week.
Clearly, she needed to get a hold of herself and remember that she was only helping Malfoy because he needed it. Remember that the developing friendship between them was a result of his need for support, and would no doubt cool as he got his bearings in his new, scary life.

She dressed demurely for the funeral home in a pair of fitted black trousers and a charcoal grey, knitted jumper. Like last night’s heels, the boots she chose were also Chanel, supple black leather with a pointed toe and a low heel. She could walk miles in them. She pulled her hair back into a braid, slicked on the barest amount of lip gloss and left for Theo’s, choosing to take the stairs rather than braving the temperamental elevator.

The version of Theo that opened the apartment door was almost unrecognisable from the bright-eyed, sultry version from the night before. 

His curls were slicked back, only a few flicks remaining unruly at his collar. Theo was immaculate in a crisp white shirt, navy braces looping over his shoulders, connected with silver clasps onto the waistband of his perfectly pressed suit trousers. His face had none of his usual good humour, his blue eyes anxious, his jaw tense. 

‘Granger, come in.’ He murmured, stepping back to allow her to enter and giving her a perfunctory hug. Blaise was already sitting at the glass table, an espresso in his hand. He was as well-groomed as ever, his face smooth-shaven, his hair razored sharply at the edges. Blaise’s shirt was black and form-fitting, tucked tightly into the waistband of his pinstriped trousers.

He cut dark eyes to Hermione as she entered, the tense atmosphere of the room almost swallowing her whole. 

‘Morning, Granger. Thank you for stepping in.’ 

‘It’s no problem.’ Hermione breathed. ‘How’s Pansy?’

He grimaced. ‘She had a rough night, but she’s a little better this morning. She’s resting now.’ 

Hermione sat down at the table, accepting a coffee from Theo that she knew she wouldn’t drink. ‘Where’s Draco?’ she asked. ‘Is he…alright?’

‘He hasn’t come out yet this morning.’ Theo informed her. ‘He won’t until it’s time to leave. Draco’s not really…. doing so great.’ 

‘Oh,’ Hermione swallowed hard. ‘Of course. This must be very difficult for him.’

‘You have no idea.’ Blaise’s words were soft, but they still stung a little. Of course, she didn’t. She didn’t know Malfoy, didn’t know any of them. She was there out of necessity. Nothing more. 

Eventually, at around half past ten, Malfoy finally left the bedroom. He entered the kitchen silently, a tall, imposing figure, dressed completely in black. His shirt, his waistcoat, his robes. It made his face look even paler, the angles of his delicate bone structure sharper than they appeared in the pale blues and whites he normally wore. Aurora was already in her car seat, wide awake but settled, sucking enthusiastically on her fist. She was wearing a little white bobble hat, the pompom on top bobbing as Malfoy placed her down gently, along with a soft leather baby bag, bulging at the seams. 

His eyes were guarded when they met Hermione’s. He looked detached - a world away from the warm, open man she’d laughed with just a few hours before. 

Theo left the apartment just before they did, heading out to his job in the finance department of the Ministry. He’d been quiet and subdued the entire time Hermione had been there, and she couldn’t help feeling that maybe he was a little hurt at not being asked to come.  
Regardless, he’d hugged Malfoy tightly as he left. ‘Keep your fucking head, mate.’ His voice was gruff. ‘Don’t let those cunts get to you.’ Malfoy nodded, pushing his face into Theo’s shoulder for a moment before stepping away and picking up Aurora’s car seat. 

Malfoy insisted Hermione sit next to Blaise in the front seat of the Mercedes for the journey to the funeral home. She crossed her legs awkwardly, the warm leather of the heated seats a strange sensation she’d never experienced before.  
The car ride was smooth, the engine a low purr. Blaise drove with commanding ease, one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick, glancing periodically at Hermione and then back at Malfoy in the rear view. 

Halfway there, Aurora began to cry, and Hermione thought it was actually a relief after the oppressive silence of the journey so far. 

As soon as they arrived at their destination, Malfoy had her out of the car seat and back in his arms. Hermione passed him one of the bottles he’d packed and kept under a stasis charm, and he flashed her a small, tight smile, the storminess of his eyes finally betraying his nerves. He guided the bottle to Aurora’s mouth, his shoulders dropping gratefully as she finally calmed.

They waited in the foyer as Aurora finished up her bottle, Blaise going ahead to the room where they were supposed to be meeting the Greengrasses and coming back a few moments later, his expression grim. 

‘They’re here already. In there with Clive Whitesnapple, choosing flowers.’ 

Malfoy sighed, his grey eyes flickering and then hardening. ‘Alright, thanks.’

‘I’ll just wait out here.’ Hermione breathed, her own nerves roiling in her stomach. 

‘No.’ Malfoy seemed to have realised he’d snapped it, his voice softening when he spoke next.  
‘I’m not going to leave you waiting around out here on your own, Granger. You can come in. There’s nothing to be said that you can’t hear. You know the score with the Greengrasses. And that way you’ll know if Aurora needs to be taken out.’

‘Are you sure?’ 

He assured her he was, and so, a few minutes later, Hermione was at his side as they marched down to the room where the Greengrasses waited, Malfoy’s black robes billowing behind him.

Anastasia Greengrass was a cold-looking woman, Hermione thought as they entered the room. 

Her eyes were ice-blue below silvery hair, cut into a severe bob. She was wearing a structured black dress, tailored to her thin form. Her nails were painted red, sharp and pointed, just like the rest of her. 

She stood up as Malfoy approached the funeral director’s desk, where there were already several pamphlets spread out, the harsh line of her mouth softening as her eyes lit on Aurora, cradled in her father’s arms. 

‘Ohhhh, there she is!’ She crooned, stepping forward. ‘Look, Cyrus. There’s our granddaughter. Isn’t she beautiful! And she’s grown so much since we saw her last!’

Cyrus Greengrass turned, not bothering to get up from his chair. He was a big man, round where his wife was thin, his complexion the deep, unhealthy red of a man who had indulged far too much in his lifetime. He didn’t look particularly interested in Aurora, giving the baby a cursory once-over and mumbling something under his breath.

Anastasia stepped closer towards Draco, and Hermione saw the way his arms tightened around Aurora, the barely detectable way he pulled back, gritting his teeth as the woman leaned over his sleeping daughter, staring down into Aurora’s face. 

‘How are you coping, Draco, dear?’ She asked, placing a small, arthritic hand on his forearm. ‘Are you managing alright?’

Malfoy said nothing at first, simply staring at her incredulously while behind him, Blaise threw up his hands, swearing under his breath.

‘As well as can be expected, thank you, Anastasia.’ He bit out eventually. ‘It has not been easy, as you can imagine.’

‘Nor has it been easy for us.’ Anastasia replied, pressing a hand to her chest, her voice taking on a mournful quality. ‘We lost our only daughter, you know.’

‘She’s not your only daughter,’ Malfoy hissed, his fury already apparent. ‘Daphne does still exist.’ 

‘Not to us, she doesn’t.’ Cyrus Greengrass finally spoke up, his voice gruff. ‘The day she decided to shack up with that Mudblood was the day she died in my eyes.’

Malfoy blanched, his eyes flickering to Hermione. 

She forced herself not to react. The Greengrasses clearly had no idea who she was, neither of them had even given her more than a perfunctory glance, they couldn’t have known how the word would affect her.

‘Now, Cyrus. Let’s not get into that again.’ Anastasia simpered. ‘We’re here to plan a funeral for Astoria, and we need to do it well. We must make sure our daughter has the send-off she deserves.’ 

‘We’re so sorry, Draco,’ she said, turning back to Malfoy. ‘About what happened last week. We didn’t want to involve Child Protective Services. We acted only out of concern for you, and our grandchild, of course. We know how much you loved Astoria, and, well, with your history, we just can’t really see how you’ll manage with a newborn baby. You are… delicate after all.’

‘Bullshit.’ Blaise spat, and, across the desk, Clive Whitesnapple eyed him warily. 

‘Now, I don’t put up with swearing in my establishment, thank you very much-‘ 

Blaise pointed his wand at Whitesnapple, and his words cut off immediately, his mouth still moving, his face turning an indignant rosy-red. Blaise shot him a vicious look, jabbing his wand in his direction again. The man’s eyes widened, and his jaw snapped shut. He held his hands up in supplication, sitting back with a mutinous expression. 

‘If you are so concerned, Anastasia-‘ Malfoy’s voice was low, laced with venom. ‘Then you could have offered to help. You could have asked what I needed to make things easier. Instead, you tried to take my newborn daughter away from me.’

‘And eventually, boy, we will.’ Cyrus interjected, ambling to his feet and stepping forward. ‘You might have the authorities on side now, but that child is our flesh and blood, the only remaining pureblood child in our family line and heiress to both family vaults. We will not allow you to keep her from us. Merlin knows we expected you to make things difficult, you Malfoys always do. But I’ll be damned if I let any Greengrass offspring be brought up by a Malfoy. She’ll end up in the funny farm by the time she’s eighteen, off her head like the rest of you. No. She’s our grandchild, and we know what’s best for her.’

‘Like you knew what was best for Astoria?’ Malfoy had gone completely still, contempt dripping from every word, his magic building in the air. 

‘Like you knew what was best for Daphne? You had two daughters, Cyrus. One ran away the first chance she got, hiding in the Muggle world so she never has to see either of you ever again, the other used to dread your visits every time you Owled. She would cry in my arms and tell me all the ways you made her hate herself, how you made her feel unwanted and inferior because of the curse, even when she did everything you asked of her. She never wanted you to come to the manor, but I convinced her to keep you in her life, to value the fact that she still had her parents around, even if you weren’t the sort of parents she wanted.’

‘She only didn’t want us coming because she was worried about us seeing the state of you!’ Anastasia hissed, her face contorting with quiet outrage. ‘She didn’t want us to see who she was married to. A shadow of a man, spending all your time moping around the manor after you got out of Azkaban, miserable, despite all the things your wealth could provide. She was always worried that you’d have one of your little episodes in front of us. She told us all about them, you know. How for the first year, you’d keep disappearing inside your own head for days, rocking back and forth, hallucinating that you were still in your cell. She was always so worried about you. We only convinced her to get pregnant because we thought it might cure the curse. That your ‘Pure’ blood might have been enough to finally end it for her.’

Both Blaise and Malfoy had frozen. Blaise’s mouth dropping open in horror as Malfoy seemed stuck, unable to comprehend what Anastasia had just said. Hermione remained hovering behind them, utterly shell-shocked by how quickly the meeting had descended into chaos, unsure of what to do. 

‘W-what do you mean, convinced her?’ Malfoy asked, his arms tightening around Aurora, who thankfully remained blissfully asleep, her mouth slightly open, her little tongue resting in the space between her parted lips. ‘Astoria always wanted to be a mother.’

‘Yes, she did, ever since she was a little girl. But you know the story, Draco. Every few generations, someone in our family is struck down with an incurable blood curse. No one who develops it has ever recovered.’

Malfoy nodded, obviously knowing his own wife’s family history.

‘Except, after Astoria was diagnosed, I discovered that one cursed Greengrass did survive. She married a Pureblood lord. He was…Spanish or something.’ Anastasia waved a dismissive hand. ‘Anyway, she got pregnant with his child and somehow, as the pregnancy progressed, instead of rapidly speeding the curse along, as it usually does, the effects began to recede. By the time she had the baby, she appeared to have been cured, and she lived a long life, dying at the age of one hundred and thirty-two. Apparently, it was her husband’s blood that cured her. Something about the level of blood purity that cancelled out the poison in hers. When Astoria was younger, we’d hoped to find the same solution for her. It was why we insisted on completing the unbreakable vow with your parents when you were just children.  Malfoy blood is some of the purest in Wizarding Britain, thanks to your generational hatred of Mudbloods. We’d hoped your blood might be pure enough to cure Astoria if she conceived, mingling with hers to counteract the curse.’ 

Hermione felt tears pricking at her eyes, and Blaise stepped closer, placing a warm, gentle hand over her own and squeezing, just for a moment, his eyes never leaving Malfoy’s face.  

‘Thankfully, your father didn’t read the contract too closely,’  Anastasia continued. ‘He had no idea of Astoria’s curse when he bound you to her, his only concern being that you would marry into a Pureblood family. He signed your life away behind your mothers back, sealing the contract without asking a single question.  

Of course, as time went on, we realised our own mistake. Your family’s shame brought shame upon ours by association, what with the awful Death Eater business and the fact that you were actually convicted of war crimes. But you and Astoria were already bound, and after Daphne ran away, you were our only hope of an heir, so -‘

‘Wait -‘ Malfoy’s voice cut through Anastasia’s ramble, his palm held up in the air.  
‘You’re telling me, Astoria knew. She knew that getting pregnant would either cure her, or kill her ten times faster?’

Anastasia nodded. ‘She did. I told her around a year ago when it became clear that the curse was weakening her. She didn’t want you to know because she knew you’d never agree to try and conceive. That’s why it took so long for her to stop her contraceptive potion, she was worried about how you’d cope if it all went wrong. It took many letters and a lot of convincing, but we told her she had to try - it was the only hope for the continuation of our family line and it was her duty. It wasn’t as though she’d live a long life regardless, she always knew that. This was her best chance.’

Anastasia shook her head, tears glittering in her eyes when she looked up again. Hermione thought that all the tears served to do was make Anastasia’s stare even colder, there was no genuine feeling in them that Hermione could see. 

‘We knew almost straight away that it hadn’t worked. Astoria Owled me and told me that she was getting sicker. She wanted to hide it from you, saying that you'd be distraught, worried that you’d relapse again. By then, you were away with work a lot, so you made it easy on her. She glamoured herself when you were home, took potions to hide the symptoms. We were consulting various private healers in the hope that we could do something to slow the curse, but then she went into labour early, and by the time we found out, it was too late.’

Malfoy had gone pale, swaying slightly where he stood. Blaise went immediately to his side, placing both hands on Draco’s elbows, his face dark with fury but his eyes unbearably sad. 

‘I was away with work, as a cursebreaker.’ He gritted out. ‘I spent years looking for a way to help Astoria. If I’d had more time - maybe I could have. You - you took that time away from me.’

‘Oh, don’t pretend to be too cut up about it, son.’ Cyrus Greengrass butted in, his voice full of spite. ‘We all know you and Astoria were friends more than anything else. You never had a choice about where to put it. Now you can be free of our family. The marriage bond is over. We can take parental responsibility for the child, arrange regular visits so she knows who you are. All we will need is a regular child support payment from the Malfoy vaults, and you can be free. Go off and sow your wild oats. Do you really want a motherless baby weighing you down? You’re still young, go out and live a little.’

‘Hermione.’

She had been so engrossed in the conversation, so repulsed by what she was hearing from poor Astoria’s own parents, that she jolted when Malfoy said her name. 

‘Can you take Aurora, please. Take her out of this room.’

The words were low, his jaw clenched tightly, magic rippling off his body in powerful waves. Hermione stepped forward, just as Cyrus Greengrass made a strangled sound of recognition, pointing at Hermione’s chest. 

‘Hermione?’ His voice was loud as he finally looked at her. ‘Hermione Granger? I thought you seemed familiar, but assumed you were just the nanny or something.’ He laughed, an angry, cruel sound, sneering at Hermione like she was dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

‘You have moved on fast, haven’t you, Draco? And with Harry Potter’s little Mudblood no less? Your father would be turning in his grave.’

Hermione realised that Greengrass was losing his temper at the same time that Malfoy lost his. He turned to her, his face the picture of cold fury, writhing beneath a layer of panic, his pupils contracted to pinpricks. ‘Take Aurora, Hermione. Now. You need to go.’

‘Well, now you’ve given me all the reason I need to make sure you never have custody of my grandchild.’ Greengrass's voice was raised, his face contorted with rage. ‘Consorting with a Mudblood when my daughter’s body isn’t even cold?’ His cheeks had turned puce with anger as he shook a sobbing Anastasia off his arm. ‘I will RUIN you, Malfoy. You’ll be back in Azkaban before that baby turns one month old, mark my words. And you, Mudblood scum, don’t you even think about putting your filthy hands on my granddaughter!’ 

Cyrus Greengrass bared his teeth at Hermione, his eyes blazing. She froze when she saw the wand in his hand as he raised it. 

‘Don’t you fucking dare.’ Malfoy hissed, a jet of blue light leaving his wand just as a red one left Cyrus Greengrass’s, aimed straight for Hermione. Malfoy’s curse redirected Greengrass’s, ricocheting the spell across the room to blast off the wall with a terrifying bang.

Malfoy raised his wand again, advancing on Cyrus Greengrass with a look of utter fury. His nostrils flaring, eyes burning with contempt. ‘You disgusting, cowardly old-‘

Hermione had barely managed to draw her own wand when she heard Blaise suddenly shout ‘FUCKING, STUPEFY!’ and both Greengrasses instantly dropped to the ground. Clive Whitesnapple cringed back in his chair, his hands over his head like a bomb had just gone off. 

Malfoy was standing in the center of the room, Aurora clutched tightly to his heaving chest, eyes wild. 

‘Granger.’ He breathed. ‘Are you alright? You’re not hurt?’

‘I’m- I’m fine.’ Hermione replied, her teeth already beginning to chatter from the rush of terrified adrenaline coursing through her body. 

Blaise stumbled to sink into Cyrus Greengrass’s now vacant chair, his expression disbelieving, his skin the pale green shade of someone who was about to vomit. 

‘Fuck.’ He grimaced, looking around the semi-destroyed room, at the two prone bodies lying on the floor, the silently ranting Funeral Director.

‘This is going to need a clean-up.’ He muttered, but Malfoy didn’t seem able to hear him. He was rigid, his glassy eyes flicking from Aurora to fix on Hermione face. 

Suddenly, he stepped towards her and then Hermione was being crushed against Malfoy’s side in a tight one-armed hug, Aurora still nestled in the crook of his other arm. She could feel Malfoy’s heart pounding against her own chest as she turned into him, grasping tightly hold of his robes. With a shuddering breath she pressed her face into Malfoy’s shoulder as he gathered her tighter to him and she began to cry - fear, sadness and shock all rushing over her at once. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ she could hear him muttering, his voice breaking on the words. ‘For what you had to hear, for the danger I just put you in… fuck.’ It sounded close to a sob. ‘I’m so sorry, Granger’ 

They stood that way for a while, Hermione wasn’t quite sure how long.  

‘Malfoy, what do you want me to do?’ Blaise asked again. ‘We’re going to need to make this go away.’

‘I- I know someone who can help,’ Hermione whispered shakily, finally stepping out of Malfoy’s embrace. ‘Someone I’d trust with absolutely anything.’ 

‘Oh bloody fucking hell.’ 

Harry Potter stood next to Malfoy, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage of the funeral home, one scarred eyebrow raising when he recognised the Stupefied bodies on the floor. 

With a small frown, he flicked a casual hand at the Incarceroused form of Clive Whitesnapple, knocking him out too. 

‘Malfoy, mate,’ he muttered. ‘I think you’d better start by telling me what in Merlin’s fucking saggy tits I’ve just walked into.’

Chapter Text

‘Christ.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Holy fucking shit.’

‘That too, Potter.’

‘I just don’t fucking believe this.’ Harry’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the ruined room, narrowing even further as he took in the blackened blast marks in the wall, evidence of the curse Malfoy had thankfully directed away from Hermione’s face.

He pointed down at the prone figures of Cyrus and Anastasia Greengrass, jabbing aggressively with the tip of his wand. 

‘These two are just Stupified, right? Not actually fucking Avada’d, because, truthfully, mate… I don’t know if I’d blame you right now.’

Blaise let out a small huffed laugh from where he sat at Whitesnapple’s desk, carefully editing the funeral director’s charmed calendar to cancel out the rest of the day’s appointments. 

Malfoy’s face, however, remained deadly serious as he cocked one blonde eyebrow at Harry. ‘Believe me, Potter.’ He drawled. ‘It was a close call. If that curse had actually hit Granger or he’d tried to come anywhere fucking near my daughter, I’d have murdered Greengrass with my bare hands.’

‘And I’d have murdered the other two to cover it up.’ Blaise added, his own eyes glinting.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, rubbing a hand over the short stubble on his chin. ‘All justified, of course. However, best not to say shit like that in front of an Auror, gents.’

‘Sorry, Potter.’ Blaise turned back to Whitesnapple’s ledger, barely managing to conceal his smirk. 

‘And you’re sure you’re okay, Mi?’ Harry asked, his green eyes searching hers. ‘I can’t believe Greengrass tried to fucking Crucio you.’ He looked upset, and the sight of it made Hermione’s own chest tighten too. She hadn’t actually realised that the curse Draco had deflected was a Cruciatus until she’d heard him telling Harry a few moments ago. She repressed another shudder, still able to feel the echoes of the last time she had been Crucioed, despite it being over ten years ago - and, she realised with a start, in a room that had contained two of the three people that were staring at her now. 

‘Yes. I’m fine, really.’ She insisted again. ‘Draco reacted quickly enough that it came nowhere near me.’

Harry accepted her answer, but she knew he would see how shaken up she was. 

For his part, Malfoy was clearly still wracked with guilt, and Hermione already knew that no matter what anyone said, he’d be placing the responsibility for her near miss squarely on his own shoulders. She could see it, in the storminess of his eyes, in the hard set of his mouth. She’d felt it in the way he’d clutched at her afterwards, shock and remorse tumbling out along with every word of his repeated apologies.

‘I shouldn’t have agreed for Granger to come.’ He said to Harry now. ‘It was my mistake. I hadn’t thought for a moment that Greengrass would do something so fucking insane. I’d have never intentionally put anyone in danger.’

‘Malfoy,’ Harry said, giving him a knowing look. ‘You don’t need to explain it to me. Hermione wanted to be here, and I’m not sure if you’ve realised it yet, but if Hermione wants to do something, she’s going to bloody do it.’

At that, Malfoy finally looked at her. It wasn’t quite a smile that made his lips twitch, but it was the closest anyone was going to get, the barest momentary pull upwards. 

‘She’s definitely…assertive,’ he agreed, and Harry barked out a sudden loud guffaw. 

‘You don’t know Hermione like I do.’ He grinned.  ‘She’s more than assertive. She’s bloody terrifying when she wants to be.’ 

At that, Hermione forgot that she was upset, placing both hands on her hips as she glared at the two men.

‘I’ll give you something to be terrified of, Harry James.’ She huffed, not sure whether to be endeared or frustrated with the fact that the former enemies were now bonding over teasing her. 

In the end, she decided it was endearing, knowing deep down that it was tactical on Harry’s part - a skill he'd developed over his years as an Auror, designed to put Malfoy at ease, to gently pull him back from the ledge he’d been hanging off when Harry had arrived. 

Despite the current calm, there was no escaping the impact of the vile things the Greengrasses had said and done. Hermione was certain the fallout would come, once Malfoy had a chance to process it all. For now, he kept his emotions squared firmly away. He was composed - inscrutable, the public version of Malfoy that Hermione recognised well. 

‘Right.’ Harry muttered, wincing a little. ‘I’m really sorry, Malfoy, but I’m going to need a bit more information if I’m going to deal with this properly. You don’t have to tell me everything -‘ he looked apologetic. ‘But I am going to need to know exactly what preceded Cyrus Greengrass’s attack on Hermione, just so that I can make sure I’m not missing anything.’

Malfoy noticeably stiffened. Hermione watched as he braced himself, taking several calming breaths. He shifted Aurora onto his shoulder, his hand smoothing circles over her back. 

‘Go ahead, Potter.’ He said eventually. ‘What do you need to know?’

Over the course of the next hour, Hermione found herself in awe once again at the level of mental fortitude Draco had been forced to cultivate throughout his life.

As though it were a mask he slipped on, he managed to conceal all his feelings behind stiff manners, using the reflective armour of formality and good breeding as a shield to protect him from whatever it was he had to do. 

If she didn’t know better, she’d have believed that he was alright. She might have believed that he was unaffected by the vile words the Greengrasses had spat at him not an hour before, that he was fine with the fact that it was Harry Potter, his childhood enemy and the man whose curse wounds he still bore, who had come to his aid. 

Hermione had been expecting more of the awkwardness she’d seen the night before between the two men -  Harry and Draco’s chequered history still the inescapable elephant in the room. She’d realised she hadn’t had the chance to ask Harry what Malfoy had said when he’d walked him to the door at Theo’s, but something must have passed between them, because, despite Malfoy’s reservedness, the tension she’d been anticipating just wasn’t there.

Inevitably, despite Hermione and Blaise’s best efforts to preserve Draco’s feelings and his dignity, Harry had to hear most of what they had. He, too, discovered that even before Voldemort’s return, before being forced to become a Death Eater, Malfoy had already been destined for a difficult life.  
He’d been bound into a marriage where there was likely to only ever be one outcome, his future signed and sealed by a father who had been so blinded by prejudice and bigotry that he hadn’t considered his son’s happiness long enough to even read the contract he was locking him into.  

The fact that Malfoy and Astoria had cared so deeply for each other made it all so much more heartbreaking. It sounded like they had been each other’s anchor in a world where neither of them had any control - a port in the storm - much like Harry was for her.  
She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to suddenly find herself without him. 

As Malfoy spoke, Hermione saw it, creeping slowly into Harry’s eyes. She hoped fervently that Malfoy couldn’t see it there, too. 

Pity. 

Pity for a man who had once, as an eleven-year-old boy, appeared to have it all - a loving family, wealth, untouchability. 

But Malfoy had always just been a pawn, a moving piece in a chess game, valued only for what he could be used for. 

‘Don’t!’ She’d wanted to shout at Harry. ‘Don’t let Draco see that you feel sorry for him, he’ll hate that.’ 

But she hadn’t needed to, because Harry had known. 

As a boy, he too had been used, fed slowly into the jaws of the beast by a man he’d loved with his whole heart. Harry had also done everything that was expected of him without question, had been willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Discovering later that Dumbledore had kept so much from him had broken Harry's heart and his trust, something he still struggled with even now.

As children, Harry and Malfoy had been positioned on opposite sides of the war, both forced into situations neither of them had any hope of understanding. Now they were men of almost thirty - battle-scarred, both changed irrevocably by their respective pasts - but wiser, finally able to see each other for who they actually were instead of who they’d been told to be.

‘Okay.’ Harry said quietly, once he’d finally heard the whole story. ‘Alright.’  
He met Malfoy's eyes, held them for a moment - bright green on stormy grey. Hermione wasn’t sure what passed between them in those few seconds, but Malfoy was the one to look away first, his expression pained. 

‘Right.’ Harry sniffed, his own eyes shining as he glanced down at Aurora, nestled peacefully in Malfoy’s arms. ‘Let’s give these bastards a little of what they deserve, shall we?’

An hour later, after much discussion back and forth, they’d finally come up with a seemingly viable plan. The funeral director was to simply be Obliviated, his memory altered to believe that the appointment had been cancelled and the funeral arrangements scheduled to be sent by owl in the coming days. 

As for the Greengrasses, Harry assured Malfoy that he had solid grounds for prosecution based on the evidence given. Cyrus Greengrass had thrown an Unforgivable at Hermione, his attempted Crucio violent and unprovoked. Aside from that, the use of the word ‘Mudblood’ was now an arrestable offence, and had been for several years. 

‘I should tattoo it on his fucking forehead.’ Harry had muttered darkly, his anger twisting his usually mild features. ‘That old twat should be taught a lesson.’ 

Blaise had appeared delighted by the idea, but Malfoy had just looked a bit sick. 

‘I think that word has been thrown around enough times today.’ He murmured, his eyes flashing to Hermione’s. ‘I think if I have to hear it again, I might lose my fucking mind, so I can’t imagine how Granger is feeling.’

The room fell silent, and Hermione felt her scar prickle aggressively as everyone tried their best to look anywhere other than at her, the pink slashes of each letter burning along the sensitive skin of her inner arm.

‘They need to pay for the shit they’ve done, Malfoy.’ Blaise muttered. ‘Not just to Granger, or to you, but to Astoria and Daphne too. These bastards cannot be allowed to get near Aurora, nor get their hands on a single galleon of her inheritance.’

Malfoy’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Potter only has grounds to arrest Cyrus. That will leave Anastasia free to get to work. They’ll buy their way out of it, or use their contacts within the Ministry to override any attempted convictions. We both know how influence and blackmail work, don’t we, Zabini?’

He turned away, busying himself once again with Aurora, flicking his wand to Accio a bottle from the bag before sitting down to feed her. 

‘I don’t want you to get into any trouble, Harry.’ Hermione chewed at her lip, worry gnawing at her insides. ‘I just thought you’d be the best person to make this go away.’

‘I won’t have any trouble, Mi.’ Harry replied confidently. ‘I have top-level clearance to pull some strings, plus, people don’t usually tend to question much when you’re the literal saviour of the Wizarding world.’

‘Oh for fucks sake, you aren’t still riding off that, are you?’ Malfoy rolled his eyes as Harry burst out laughing, clearly getting the reaction he’d been hoping for. 

‘As modest as ever, I see, Potter.’ Blaise grinned, earning a wink from Harry and more muttering sotto voce from Malfoy. 

In the end, it was decided that Harry would take the Greengrasses in, using selected memories from Hermione as evidence for their initial arrest. 

The Greengrass’s assets would be frozen until further notice, and the CPS would be informed of the investigation, preventing them from taking any further steps towards seeking a custody arrangement for Aurora.

As to what would happen to Cyrus and Anastasia once he got them to the DMLE, Harry assured Malfoy that it was probably better he didn’t know. Malfoy had looked sceptical at that, but he appeared satisfied with the overall plan. 

‘Gods, Theo’s going to lose his fucking shit when he hears about this.’ He’d whispered, not quietly enough that Harry couldn't hear. Harry’s face had flushed, a small, pleased smile lifting the corners of his mouth. 

They spent another half an hour clearing up the mess in the funeral home, magically fixing the walls and picking up items that had fallen during the wand fight. 

‘I think Cyrus actually did you a favour, showing his hand so recklessly today.’ Blaise offered as Harry began wrapping up. ‘Maybe this shit show was actually a good thing.’

Hermione could see what Blaise was attempting to do, but Malfoy had just looked miserable, his eyes sliding to Hermione again. 

‘Granger could have been badly hurt.’ He frowned. ‘And Astoria is still dead because my blood couldn’t save her. Aurora still doesn't have her mum, and now she’ll never have a relationship with any of her grandparents. Sorry, Blaise, but I can't say I can see much to feel positive about.’ 

Blaise placed a hand on Malfoy’s back. ‘Well, at least we know Aurora will stay where she belongs. With her father, safe and protected.’ 

Again, Malfoy didn’t look comforted by Blaise’s words. He stepped away, surreptitiously shaking off Blaise’s hand as he turned back to Harry.

'I do- ah, really appreciate you coming, Potter.’ He muttered  gruffly. ‘Let me know if there’s anything you need me to do.’

‘No problem.’ Harry grinned back, pumping Malfoy’s hand enthusiastically. ‘This was actually much more interesting than the day of paperwork I had planned.' He paused. 'Maybe I’ll see you at work again soon? When you’re ready to come back, of course.’ 

‘Yeah…maybe.’ Malfoy looked doubtful, eyes drifting down to Aurora, who was now strapped safely back into her car seat. 

‘I think I'm going to stay with Potter for a bit and just finalise a few of the logistics,’ Blaise said. ‘Make sure there’s no legal issues we’ve overlooked. Are you okay to drive back?’ 

Malfoy nodded, catching the keys Blaise threw him one-handed. 'I hope Pans feels better. Give her a hug from me and Aurora.' 

'Will do, mate.' Blaise replied. 'Speak later, okay?' 

A sharp nod and Malfoy turned away, picking up the car seat and loitering by the door so Hermione could say her goodbyes, looking just as shell-shocked and exhausted as he had that first night in the hospital. 

Hermione gave Harry a tight hug, agreeing that they probably needed to push dinner with Ron back a few days. Then, she and Malfoy left, heading back out of the funeral home the same way they came in, blinking in the late afternoon sun. 

Malfoy was quiet as he fixed Aurora’s car seat in place, setting up the observation charms and a reflection charm so that he could see her face in the rear-view mirror.

Aurora was a little fractious at first but once the car started, she settled, lulled quickly to sleep by the thrumming of the powerful engine. 

Like Blaise, Malfoy made driving look natural, as though it was something he'd been doing forever. He’d taken off his heavy robes and rolled the cuffs of his black shirt, so that Hermione could see the tendons in his forearm shift as he gripped the wheel, reversing effortlessly out of the narrow parking spot and manoeuvring them onto the road. 

The journey home was as painfully silent as the way there had been, Malfoy chewed on his bottom lip, grey eyes continually darting to check on Aurora in the rear view. Hermione looked down at the weathered platinum band of his wedding ring and then up to the side of his face, trying to decide where to begin with all the things she wanted to say to him. 

‘Draco,’ she tried, when she couldn’t stand the waiting any longer. 

He didn’t look at her, his eyes still trained on the road, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. 

‘Don’t, Granger. Please.’

Hermione frowned, frustrated but not surprised. 

‘A-alright… just…I’m here, if you do want to talk, about anything. Whenever you’re ready.’ 

She waited, but got no further response, no acknowledgement that he’d even heard what she said. 

As the journey continued, she became aware that Malfoy’s magic was slowly beginning to fill the car, thick and cloying, heavy with all the emotion he was continuing to repress. Hermione pushed her hands between her knees, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He was grinding his teeth, clearly beginning to stew over the things he’d learned that day.

Hermione felt a bit like she might vomit, half willing the journey to be over but also filled with an odd sense of anticipatory dread at the thought of it ending. 

As they pulled up outside her flat, Malfoy reversed the car into a free space, pulling up the handbrake and turning off the engine. 

He finally turned to her, but something was different. There was a detachment in his gaze that felt so at odds with the warmth and familiarity she’d come to expect.

'Thank you for coming today, Granger.' He muttered, still not really looking at her. ‘You’re sure you’re alright?’

’I’m fine. Thanks to you, nothing actually happened to me. But Draco-‘

He scoffed bitterly, scrubbing a hand over his face. ‘Sure. It was nothing. You’re absolutely fine and completely unaffected by almost getting Crucioed again.’

Hermione hadn’t been expecting the anger she heard underneath the layers of guilt. 

'Draco,' she tried again. 'What the Greengrasses said today. You need to know-‘

‘Stop.'  

Malfoy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, pausing to check on Aurora in the rearview again. She was still sound asleep.

'Granger,’ he turned exhausted, shadow-ringed eyes to hers. 'I don't want to do this. I cannot do this. I need you to get out of the car. Please.' 

Afterwards, looking back, Hermione could see her own mistake. She should have done as he'd asked. She should have gotten out of the car and walked away.
In hindsight, it was clear that Malfoy was barely holding on, that he'd been waiting for her to leave before he let himself feel everything. He had practically begged her to give him space. Maybe if she’d listened, they might have been able to talk things through rationally, another time. 

But she’d been blind to it, blinkered by concern and her ridiculous notion that there was always a way she could help, even when dealing with situations far beyond her own limits of experience.

'You don't need to be alone with this, Draco.' she began. 'We can talk it through. I'm sure Astoria wouldn't want you to bottle things up.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ 

Hermione stopped speaking, her mouth snapping shut as she registered the abrupt change in Malfoy’s demeanour, the pulse in the magic emanating from the man sitting not even a foot away from her. 

He turned to her, eyes now dark and glittering. There was an edge to his tone that she’d never heard, not when he was younger and certainly not recently. His features were hard, jaw clenched.

'Do not fucking presume to know anything about what my wife may or may not have wanted.’ The words were low, delivered with deadly restraint, despite the flush spreading along his cheeks and neck and the death grip he had on the steering wheel. ‘With all due respect, Granger, you’d never even met Astoria. You know nothing about her. Nothing about our life. Just because you heard a few sordid stories today, it doesn’t mean you know shit.’

Every word was bitten out, every vowel crisply enunciated. 

‘Draco, I’m sorry, I-‘ 

‘No. I’m the one that’s sorry, Granger. I allowed you to become far too involved. I was weak and I was stupid and I gave in to the way it makes me feel to be around you…Like maybe I could be someone else, do better….actually succeed at something for once with the great Hermione Granger guiding me through it.’

He huffed out an incredulous, humourless laugh.

‘And look, within less than a week, I almost got you cursed. My father would have been very impressed.’ 

Hermione couldn't help the small cry of surprise that was wrenched from her chest as Malfoy's palm suddenly slammed down hard on the steering wheel.
He let his head fall back against the leather headrest, closing his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut.

'Astoria knew me,' he whispered. 'She knew the shit that haunts me, that makes me want to crawl right out of my skin. She - she always said that she loved me anyway. But really, she was just stuck with me, wasn't she? Even if she hated me, Astoria couldn’t leave, not until she went and bloody died.’

His eyes opened and he turned to look at her. 

‘But you can leave. You can walk away from this fucking shit show and get on with your life with your shiny, happy friends.You had it right the first time, Granger - back when you hated me. Listen to fucking Longbottom and stop thinking you can fix everyone and everything. Some things - some people are just too far gone, even for you.’  

Hermione was momentarily frozen, lightheaded from holding her breath, a dull ache spreading out from the centre of her chest. Malfoy looked like he was in pain too. His throat working, his face chalky white. 

‘Get out of the car, please.’ 

‘Draco-‘ 

‘Goodbye, Granger. Thank you for everything you’ve done for Aurora and I. Take care, alright?’ 

His eyes were flat again, his expression intentionally blank. Hermione realised she was looking at the other version of Malfoy.

He’d closed himself off from her.  

Determined not to cry, she nodded. She cast one last look back at Aurora and then, without another word, she got out of the car and walked towards her flat door. 

He’d driven away before she even reached her front step.

Returning to work was a good distraction. 

After just a few days on the ward, Hermione had felt like she’d never been gone. 

She tried hard not to dwell on what had happened with Malfoy, to not think too deeply about how things had been left between them.  
She didn’t contact him, and she heard nothing in return.

She kept busy, spending time with Ginny before she left for France, taking on extra hours at work, even going out on one disastrous date (she’d lasted less than an hour before sending an SOS to Luna, who had immediately called her back with a fake ‘emergency’ so she had an excuse to leave). 

She hadn’t told Harry exactly what had happened in the car, not able to bring herself to repeat the last things Malfoy had said.
When Harry had returned that night, he’d assumed she was just upset about Greengrass, assuring her that everything was dealt with and she didn’t need to worry about him ever again.  
She’d snuggled into Harry’s arms and thanked the gods once again for giving him to her, trying not to cry as she thought about Malfoy, and how he might be spending the night as he came to terms with the horrendous things he’d been told. 

Harry was busy too, working all hours on a new serial murder case - a series of poisonings all seemingly connected to a missing witch named Casalia Brown. He’d left for Italy a few days ago following a promising lead. They spoke all the time, but Hermione still felt like she was missing a limb. 

That day, the ward was frantic. Hermione had three patients in active labour and another four in recovery, one after a very long and difficult delivery. 

She had spent the last few hours with the new mum, bringing her tea and toast and supporting her with breastfeeding. The baby was sleepy, struggling to latch on and mum was exhausted and emotional. 

'Just place a finger here, on his chin,' Hermione said, gently, holding the baby in position. 'When he opens his mouth, use your thumb to help him open it a little wider as you bring him up from underneath and guide his head forward.'  

It took a while, but eventually the latch was perfect and Hermione smiled with satisfaction. 'Can you hear?' She asked. 'That clicking sound when he swallows has gone. He’s latched on just right.'  
She’d stayed a little longer, bustling around until she was certain both mother and baby were settled and comfortable before leaving to complete her ward rounds. 

At about two o'clock, she made her way back to the front desk, having been told that Ernie wanted to see her. 

'There's someone waiting for you.' He muttered when she arrived, not looking up. 'Out in the corridor. I haven't let him in because he has no one to currently visit on the ward.' 

Ernie looked furious and also a little scared, the tips of his ears pink, cheeks flushed. Hermione glanced up at the clock, surprised to see that she’d completely missed her lunch break. 

She went to check that no one needed anything before heading down the corridor to the double doors at the exit to the ward. 

Theodore Nott was leaning up against the wall of the hospital corridor, his legs crossed at the ankles so she could see a peek of his bright pink socks between the cuff of his grey trousers and his shiny shoes. 

His hair was slicked back, and under his outer robes, his shirt was a crisp white beneath a double-breasted waistcoat, his tie perfectly matched to his socks. He looked exactly what she'd expect for a clean-cut Ministry financier, other than the small silver hoop in his left ear and the wicked grin that was spread across his handsome face. 

'Hello, darling,’ he drawled, pushing himself off the wall and stepping towards her. ‘Care to join me for a spot of lunch?’ He held up a heavy paper bag bearing the logo of her favourite wizarding deli.

'You scared Ernie again.' Hermione said as they made their way down towards the main doors a few minutes later. 'He was all nervous and twitchy. What did you say to him?' 

'I've no idea what you mean.' Theo’s eyes were wide and innocent despite the mischievousness in his tone. She laughed, nudging him gently with her elbow. 

‘Be good, Theodore. I have to work here, remember.' 

Theo grinned. 'I'm always good, Granger. Make sure you tell Harry that, okay?' 

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. ‘Why don’t you tell him yourself? I can give you his number if you like?’

‘Oh, I never make the first move.’ Theo shot back. ‘I’m shy.’

Hermione burst out laughing at that, unable to believe for a single second that Theodore Nott was anything even approaching shy. 

A moment later, they'd left through the main doors of Saint Mungo's and walked out towards the small green just down the road. The day was sunny and crisp, pleasant enough to sit outside with a half-decent warming charm.  
They entered the green through the small wrought iron gate, walking down the path until they found an empty bench to sit on. 

Hermione waited for Theo to speak, growing concerned when after several minutes he still hadn’t said a word, his blue eyes appraising her soberly.

‘Theo, is everything alright? Is everything okay with Aurora?’

‘She’s fine.’ He said eventually. ‘Growing freakishly fast. The DWCPS finally came last week. They did their initial home visit.’

Hermione felt her stomach lurch. ‘They did? How did it go?’ 

‘It was fine. They were happy with the house, obviously. The woman said she could see how much Draco dotes on Aurora, how well he looks after her.’

She sagged with relief. Just because she wasn’t seeing Malfoy and Aurora any more didn’t mean she’d stopped caring. 

‘He got snappy with the community midwife last week, though. She said something about him holding Aurora too much.’ 

Hermione smiled ruefully. 

‘I can imagine he took that really well.’ She said and Theo laughed. 

‘Yeah, he was totally chill about it.’ 

'How is Draco in himself?' 

Theo grimaced. 'What do you think? The man is an absolute wreck, Granger.'

Hermione felt her heart soften, despite the way she'd left things with Malfoy. Of course, he was a wreck. He'd been a wreck ever since Astoria had died, and things seemed to only have gone from bad to worse ever since. 

'He's absolutely mortified about how he spoke to you, you know.’ Theo said. 

'Well, he doesn’t need to be. I shouldn't have pushed him to talk when he wasn't ready.'

'He feels shitty about it,' Theo said. 'As well as all the guilt he has about you almost getting hurt. That’s all it was, you know that, right? He’s pushing you away because he feels guilty for putting you in danger. He'll come round.'

'I do know that.' Hermione replied carefully. 'But honestly, he was right when he said I was too involved. I mean, really, Theo, it’s only been a month since Draco's wife died. Of course, he's a wreck, it’s more than understandable. I was a familiar face when he was thrown into the deep end that first night, and I've been a comfort for him in terms of being someone who knows how to look after a baby. But at the funeral home, I ended up being privy to something deeply personal, and it was inappropriate. Lines were crossed that shouldn't have been in terms of a patient/healer relationship, and that's on me. I should never have given him my number in the first place. He has you, Blaise and Pansy to love and support him and the community midwives to help with Aurora. There's absolutely no reason for us to speak again.'

Theo put his sandwich down, placing it carefully on top of the paper bag he’d spread out on his knees. 

‘Astoria’s funeral is taking place tomorrow.’ 

Hermione’s stomach lurched again. This time, so violently she thought she might actually vomit. Theo suddenly looked unbearably sad, and Hermione was painfully reminded that he was grieving too.  
He had also lost a friend when Astoria died, and he was currently watching his best friend go through hell. For all his smiles and laughter, Theo must be struggling in his own way

‘Oh god.’ She murmured. ‘I didn’t realise it would be so soon. Draco must be in pieces.’ 

Theo shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell at the moment. He’s just completely focused on Aurora. He won’t talk about anything, won’t even acknowledge what was said at the funeral home, even though I know it’s torturing him.’

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth as she suddenly realised what the funeral would entail. ‘The Greengrasses? Wouldn’t they have to come? She was their daughter after all.’

Theo grimaced. ‘They are coming later with an Auror escort. They won’t be allowed anywhere near Malfoy or Aurora. Apparently Potter sorted it all before he left.’ 

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine how hard the day would be for Malfoy, for all of them, but she also didn’t know why Theo had come to tell her about it. Malfoy hadn’t contacted her, he had told her exactly how he felt and she had told Theo how she did. 

‘Why are you telling me this, Theo?’ She asked. ‘Is there something you need me to help you with? Anything I can do?’

Theo shook his head. 

‘Nothing like that. I just…’ he sighed. 'Listen,   Granger, you don’t know Malfoy like I do. You don’t know how many times in his life he’s been told that he’s failed, that he didn’t live up to someone’s unrealistic set of expectations. He’s so fucking hard on himself. He can’t see what we do - doesn’t understand why we’ve stuck by him all these years. Astoria loved him too - no matter what he believes.’ 

Theo’s blue eyes were glassy, and Hermione instinctively reached for his hand, linking their fingers and squeezing tightly. Theo squeezed back, his palm warm and soft. 

‘I genuinely believe she only agreed to try for a baby because she already knew she was getting sicker. Cursed Greengrasses don’t live long after they start deteriorating. I think Astoria really hoped it would cure her, and if not, at least she could try and give Draco something to live for, after she was gone. Something to keep fighting for.’

Hermione nodded, thinking of how hard Astoria had also fought. The hopeful way she’d looked at Aurora before she died.

‘Now he thinks her death is his fault - that even the blood that flows through his fucking veins isn’t good enough.’ Theo’s words hit Hermione like a gut punch. She knew only too well how that felt. 

‘All I’ll say is, you’re far more to him than just a Healer. Whatever connection there is between you - it’s important to him - to all of us. Don’t believe that because he pushed you away that he doesn’t care. Give him the chance to make it up to you, when he’s ready.’

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to process everything Theo had just thrown at her. Once again, her emotions surrounding Draco Malfoy were overwhelming and confusing and she couldn’t bear how sad it all was. 

‘Fuck.’ Theo said, seeing her face. ‘I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I appreciate you coming to see me, Theo. I just don’t know what to make of it all. I don't know how to feel.’

‘I get it. Just, don’t write him off, okay? He’s had enough of that in his life. Plus, we need some fresh meat around here. The friendship group is definitely getting a bit stale now Blaise and Pansy are an old married couple and Malfoy has a baby.'

Hermione laughed. 'By fresh meat, I'm assuming you mean Harry, not me.'

Theo laughed. ‘Both, if you’re interested, Granger?’

Now it was Hermione’s turn to laugh. ‘I think I’m missing a few very vital faculties for you, Theo. But I’m pretty positive Harry would be interested if you’d just stop being so shy.’

Theo stepped back, one hand in his pocket, the other running nervously through his hair, ruffling up his attempt to slick it back. Hermione thought that he actually did look shy. Maybe there was more to his feelings for Harry than she thought. 

‘I’ll think about it.’ He said. ‘I’ll text you.’

‘Alright.’ Hermione squeezed his hand again. ‘I really think he’d be happy to hear from you.’

Five minutes later, they arrived back at the hospital doors and Hermione reached up to give Theo a hug. 'I’ll be thinking of you all tomorrow.' She murmured. ‘I hope it goes as well as it can do.’

Theo hugged her back tightly before turning away, and as she watched him go, Hermione thought that he really was perfect for Harry. Handsome, funny and a truly loyal friend.

The funeral day came and went, marked by a horrifically intrusive article published in the Prophet just hours afterwards. 

Hermione refused to discuss it, needing to go and have a short, private cry in the bathroom after catching sight of a discarded copy left in the hospital waiting room.  

The article included a moving photograph of Malfoy, dressed completely in black, walking away from the graveyard with Aurora in his arms, tightly flanked by a small group of people Hermione instantly recognised as Pansy, Blaise and Theo, their faces pale and tear-streaked, their grief raw and obvious. Malfoy looked completely broken, clutching Aurora like the lifeline she was. 

However, despite Theo’s words, Hermione didn’t hear a word from him. 

Weeks went by and she thought about Malfoy often, wondered how he was managing with Aurora, imagining how much she must have changed.

Eventually, she decided that maybe Theo had gotten it wrong, that Malfoy really had meant what he said in the car and he just wanted Hermione out of his life and to move on. 

It wasn’t until almost three months had passed that Hermione woke up one morning and discovered that something felt different. 

It took her almost twenty minutes to realise what it was, but when she eventually did she was unable to force herself to wait, barely even managing to take the time to get dressed before she Apparated straight to Theo’s penthouse, finally taking advantage of her ‘I’m Hermione bloody Granger,’ privileges to convince the doorman to let her up. 

She stepped out of the lift and banged on Theo’s door, louder than she meant to, forgetting herself in the fog of emotion that engulfed her.

When the door swung open, she was momentarily speechless when she found herself face to face with a shirtless Malfoy. He had clearly been working out, as evidenced by the weights spread out on the floor behind him next to Aurora’s bouncy chair. There was sweat dripping down his chest, his hair damp and pushed back from his face. He was panting, but he stopped when he saw her, almost appearing to have ceased breathing altogether. 

‘Granger,’ he said, grey eyes wary as he took her in, dishevelled and furious. ‘Listen, before you start shouting-‘

‘Give me your arm.’ She demanded and he frowned, stepping back from the door. 

‘Granger, I-‘ Hermione darted forward, grabbing his wrist and angling his forearm so she could look at it. 

The second she looked down, she burst into tears, dropping Malfoy’s arm and using two hands to push at his chest, almost sending him stumbling back into the room, eyes wide with surprise.

‘Draco,’ she sobbed. ‘You bloody idiot. You stupid, stupid man. Why did you do that? How the hell did you even-?’ Hermione couldn’t finish her sentence, so overcome with emotion as she let him tentatively, gently pull her to him and wrap one arm around her shaking shoulders.  

She looked down her own arm again, the skin completely smooth where it had once been scarred.  
Because now, Malfoy’s forearm, the one that had previously been unmarked, bore eight crudely slashed letters, etched deeply into his skin. 

M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D 

Chapter Text

Hermione was distraught. 

She was furious, absolutely livid. 

She reminded herself of those things as she found herself allowing Malfoy to hold her against his warm, sweat-slick chest, simultaneously inhaling the coalescing scents of clean perspiration and expensive aftershave, her own hands limp at her sides. Hermione’s cheek was damp with Malfoy’s sweat and her own tears. It was unseemly, and he had a bloody nerve, but she couldn’t quite - 

‘I told you she wouldn’t be happy, mate.’

Hermione startled at the voice, lifting her head and peering around Malfoy’s bare bicep to find Theodore Nott, also sweaty and half-dressed in just sports shorts, socks and trainers, standing awkwardly behind them at the large marble island that took up the kitchen area of the apartment.

‘Oh! Theo!’  Hermione tried to pull away, wriggling out of Malfoy’s grasp. He tightened the arm he had around her shoulder for the briefest second and then let her go, stepping back and scrunching his nose, seemingly preparing for her to unleash.  

Hermione reached down for his wrist again, her heart squeezing as she took in the raw skin around the word gouged there, the shape of each letter so achingly familiar but now no longer hers to wear. 

‘Draco,’ his name was a raw sound, escaping from deep within her chest. ‘What have you done?’

 ‘Granger, it’s okay-‘ 

‘Don’t.’ She hissed in an echo of some of the last words he’d said to her. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you think for one second that I’m just going to accept …whatever this is! I don’t hear from you for months, and then suddenly the scar I’ve had for ten years is on YOUR arm! How?’ She spluttered. ‘How did you even do it? And why? Why, Draco?’

Malfoy pulled his wrist gently out of her grasp, angling his arm behind his back like he thought that if she couldn’t see it, she’d forget about it. 

He raked the fingers of his other hand through his hair, leaving damp blonde strands to stick up everywhere as he shrugged. 

‘I just wanted to.’ 

The words were delivered so calmly and with such misplaced nonchalance that Hermione’s anger was instantly reignited. 

‘WHAT?’ She burst out, and Malfoy winced, holding up a placating hand that she wanted to slap away. ‘What kind of an answer is that?’

Behind Malfoy, Theo winced too, pulling a face and shaking his head. 

‘Draco, man,’ he muttered. ‘You’re killing me.’ 

Malfoy turned slowly, fixing Theo with a withering look. 

‘Nott. Do me a favour, and fuck off would you, mate? I’m sort of in the middle of something here.’

Theo looked mock-offended, his signature grin bunching his cheeks. ‘Oh, but I really want to watch this. I want to see Granger prove me right and kick your lanky arse from here to Hogsmeade.’

‘Theo.’ Malfoy’s tone was a warning, and Theo laughed again, walking around the island and heading to the bouncy chair. 

‘I’ll take this little lady with me, shall I? Give you two some time to talk?’ 

Hermione gasped as she laid eyes on Aurora for the first time in three and a half months. Her peach-fuzz hair was now a blonde halo around her head, fine and straight like her father’s. She was still small for her age, but she had grown several inches and filled out beautifully, her cheeks round and pink, her eyes bright and alert.  She gurgled as Theo reached down, releasing the fist she’d been sucking on as he deftly undid the clasps around her waist and lifted her out of the bouncy chair, resting her on his hip with an arm banded around her back to keep her secure.

‘Aurora’s been watching daddy torture uncle Theo with press-ups this morning,’ Theo cooed, gazing down at her fondly. ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you, darling?’ 

He turned to head down the hallway, but Malfoy called out before he’d taken a single step, crossing the room quickly to reach them. Aurora smiled widely as her father approached, squirming in Theo’s arms, clearly excited by Draco’s proximity. ‘Daddy loves you,’ he murmured, kissing her on the head and then the nose tenderly.
‘Be careful.’ He pointed a finger at Theo’s chest.
‘And don’t let her try and roll over when you’re changing her. I’ve learned the hard way that it can be…messy.’

Theo didn’t reply, merely rolling his eyes and nodding before finally being allowed to make his way down the hall. Aurora went happily enough, clearly as comfortable with Theo as he was with her.

Malfoy turned back to Hermione, who was currently in a state of shock. She thought she must be, because when he walked to the kitchen area, held up two mugs and asked, ‘Coffee?’ she nodded mutely instead of all the things she’d been planning to say.

Malfoy grinned and motioned for her to sit, filling a glass from the tap and quickly downing it, before setting about making the coffee, adding three spoonfuls of sugar into his and none into hers, clearly remembering how she took it. 

In the absence of anything else to do for the moment, Hermione drifted towards the glass dining table and sat down, blinking dazedly around.  
Outside the expansive glass window that ran the length of the living area, the sun reflected off the outdoor pool, the steam rising from its surface confirming her guess that it must be heated. 

‘Biscuit?’ Malfoy called, and Hermione turned, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his face, painfully aware that he was still shirtless. 

‘No, Draco.’ She replied, as scathingly as she could manage. ‘I do not want a biscuit right now, thank you.’

He shrugged, shoving a custard cream into his mouth and holding it there while he made his way over to her, a coffee in each hand. 

Hermione tried not to look… she really tried, but, unfortunately, she was just a girl, and it was virtually impossible to ignore a male form so criminally beautiful that she couldn’t believe Malfoy voluntarily hid it under clothes all day.  
Hermione was certain he hadn’t been quite this muscular three months ago. She definitely would have noticed, she felt, despite everything that had been going on.

He was still lean, although not excessively so, his back broad and sculpted, his arms well defined. There was a tattoo covering his right shoulder - the one she’d seen a part of in the hospital that first day - flowers - a riotous tangle of petals and leaves that crept outwards over his scarred chest and curled down toward his bicep. He was also wearing sports shorts, and the muscles in his thighs flexed as he walked towards her, blonde hairs catching in the sun.  
But the part that really caught Hermione’s attention, the part that she had to consciously force herself to look away from, was the sharp V of his abdominals, pointing overtly down to the waistband of his shorts, each side adorned with a set of delicate, tattooed vines. 

The tattoos were so surprising, so unexpectedly provocative for a man as reserved as she’d always perceived Malfoy to be, that it was shock as much as aesthetic curiosity that made her eyes disobey her brain and sneak one final look as he sat down and pushed her coffee gently towards her across the table.

Hermione swallowed thickly, ashamed of herself in more ways than one. 

Thankfully, Malfoy didn’t seem to have noticed her covert inspection, he was picking nervously at his nails, apparently ready and waiting for her to shout at him again - something she fully intended to do, as soon as she’d had a rousing sip of coffee and gathered herself somewhat. 

‘Draco,’ she began, then paused. ‘Actually, don’t you think you should get dressed for this conversation? It's…cold.’

Malfoy blinked at her for a moment, swallowing down his biscuit with an audible gulp. He nodded, flicking a hand to wandlessly Accio a T-shirt from next to a gym mat on the floor, slipping it over his head and smoothing it down. 

Hermione thought that maybe she was asleep, that this was all some sort of bizarre dream.  
The jarring difference in Malfoy’s demeanour from the last time she’d seen him, the way that he clearly expected her to just accept what he’d done without issue, both had her seriously questioning her own state of mind. 

He reached for his coffee, and she was faced again with the peculiar, painful sight of her scar marring the pale skin of Malfoy’s forearm, the slashes seeming more malevolent and brutal than they had against her own olive tone, especially when paired with the faded stain of the Dark Mark on his other arm. 

‘Why, Draco?’ She croaked, her throat tightening again. ‘And don’t just say, because I wanted to. That’s not an answer. Why did you want to? You practically threw me out of the car after the funeral home, and you haven’t contacted me since. I understood, of course. We were both just a footnote in each other’s lives and that was fine.’ 

He frowned at that, his head jerking up from where he’d been staring at the tabletop. 

Hermione continued, ‘I’ve had this scar for twelve years, I’ve made my peace with it. What possibly gave you the impression that it was something I needed you to take?’ 

He regarded her quietly, the frown line remaining between his brows. She noticed that he was still wearing his wedding ring, the metal clinking against the porcelain mug as he shifted, seemingly debating how best to answer her. 

‘I had to do it.’ He said eventually. ‘I had to even things out between us.’

Hermione’s anger flared hot and instantaneous.  
‘That’s ridiculous! You don’t owe me anything! When have I ever made you feel like you did? I told you I was happy to help with Aurora and I was. I didn’t expect this…for you to.. to mutilate yourself to show your gratitude! Don’t you realise how insane that is?’ 

Malfoy nodded calmly, his grey eyes clear as he gave another maddening shrug of his shoulders. ‘I do, and I don’t care. I knew you’d be angry about it. I knew you’d say all of this. But, this was the only way I could even begin to live with myself. The only way I could gain some sense of peace.’

Seeing Hermione’s expression, he quickly clarified. ‘I don’t mean that I don’t care about you, or how you feel. I mean, I don’t give a shit if it’s insane. I’m way past that. I just couldn’t stand another day of knowing that someone as… as pure, as undeserving as you had to walk around with something so fucking hateful carved into their body.’

‘I was used to it. We all have scars -‘

‘Some of us deserve our scars.’ He jabbed at the forearm that bore the Dark Mark before reaching for the collar of his T-shirt and dragging it down, angling his neck to point first at the runes stamped below his ear and then down to a silvery line slashed across his clavicle. ‘Some of us are defined by them.’ 

Any illusion of nonchalance was gone now. Malfoy’s eyes burned into hers, his voice low and hoarse with emotion. 

‘But that scar, that fucking vile word, it doesn’t define you.’ 

‘Draco, it’s just a word. It doesn’t hurt me any more.’ Hermione lied, wishing she could stop the tears that were welling in her eyes. 

He shook his head. ‘No. No, it's not. It will never be just a word, and we both know that. I’m so ashamed that I ever used it, even more ashamed that I didn’t do more to stop Bellatrix that day.’ His own eyes were damp now, and he turned them down to the table, his lashes glistening. 

‘I can think of a thousand other words that define who you are, Granger, but none of them could ever even begin to do you justice.’ 

How many times was this man going to leave her speechless? Hermione wondered. How many times was he going to say and do things that made her chest feel like it was cracking down the middle, her heart beating, raw and vulnerable where he’d pulled apart her ribs and left her wide open, exposed. She stared at him dumbly, completely unable to form any sort of coherent response.

Malfoy sniffed. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I wanted to take it from you. I’m happy to wear it. Because for once I could use my magic for good, I could undo something awful, take someone else’s pain and keep it for myself.’ Hermione’s eyes slid to Malfoy’s wedding band again, and she knew he wasn’t just talking about her.  
‘This feels good to me, Granger.’ He insisted. ‘I’ve spent my whole life feeling powerless, like I’m being swept along by a tide I have no hope of swimming against. Let me have this. Let me wear this scar for you - not as payment for what you did for Aurora and I - but so that I can just look you in the fucking eye and feel like a semi-decent man for once. I understand if you’re angry, if you don’t want to be my friend, Merlin, if you don’t ever want to speak to me again, that’s fine, I suppose. Just don’t hate me…please.’ 

Hermione knew she should have a decent response. She should have a list of reasons why it wasn’t Malfoy’s place to decide how her body looked, that he didn’t get to judge how pure she was - after all, he didn’t really know her. But then she thought about his life thus far, the fact that he’d always been cast as the villain, despite seemingly being absolutely full of love and compassion, his guilt that he couldn’t save Astoria, his guilt over damned near bloody everything, and Hermione couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to villainise Draco Malfoy any more than he had already managed to villainise himself. 

She held his gaze across the table, her mind and body a swirling mass of emotions, too big to even begin to sort through here and now. 

‘You wouldn’t give it back, even if I asked you to.’ 

It wasn’t a question, but Malfoy shook his head vehemently, his face set. 

Hermione sighed, dropping her gaze back down to his forearm. ‘It looks awful. I hate seeing it there.’

‘I know.’ 

‘Does it hurt?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Liar.’

‘It’s much less painful than the alternative.’

Another long beat of silence. 

‘How did you do it, Draco?’

He exhaled, as though he’d been holding his breath, as though he sensed in her question that they were moving forward. She wasn’t going to scream at him, she wasn’t going to storm out. 

‘I’m a cursebreaker, Granger. It’s what I do.’

‘Yes, I know that. But how did you do it? How do you take a scar from one person's body and transfer it to your own without that person even being present?’

‘If I tell you, you’ll only try and steal it back.’

She huffed, but a small smile crept into the sound as she realised that maybe he did know her, just a little bit. 

‘Just…give me the gist.’ 

He pulled his arm down into his lap, and Hermione was relieved she didn’t have to look at it any more.  
‘I don’t want to upset you.’ He murmured, and she laughed.

 ‘I’m already upset, Draco. This is all very upsetting.’

The guilt that flashed across his face wasn’t what she’d intended. ‘I’ll be fine.’ She clarified. ‘Just tell me.’

After another spell of silence, he finally sat back, rubbing a hand absently over his jaw, his eyes darting to hers and then away again. 

‘There were several steps to the process… and with Aurora, it took me a lot longer than I’d hoped.’  
She waited and he fidgeted in his chair. ‘I-I needed something. I had to go back to the manor. Not to the wing that Astoria and I lived in - I’m still working up to that, but to the dungeons. I accessed the vault where my father hid certain… artefacts.’

Hermione shuddered at the thought of what Lucius Malfoy might have secreted away in those vaults. Malfoy took a deep breath. ‘I located Aunt Bellatrix’s d- the dag-‘ he broke off.  ‘Granger, I don’t want to do this.’ 

His distress was obvious, and Hermione’s heart was already hammering, she knew what he’d been about to say, and she decided that no, she actually didn’t need to hear how he’d done it. 

‘I used blood magic,’ he said, eventually. ‘Blood magic, ancient spellwork and a lot of trial and error. Can we just leave it at that?’ 

Hermione nodded, swallowing down the panic that was threatening to come bursting out of her chest.  
‘And there was no way you could have just gotten rid of the scar without having to take it yourself?’ 

Malfoy looked confused for a moment, as though that was something he hadn’t even considered, then he doubled down.

‘No.’ He said with conviction. ‘The magic in your scar, it’s Black family magic. It’s dark. You can’t just take it from one person and release it into the ether, where you don’t know who it might find. It has to be channelled elsewhere.’

‘Oh.’ She murmured. ‘That makes sense.’ She wasn’t sure if it did, but she found that she didn’t know what else to say. 

They both stared down at their coffees for a long minute, neither of them taking a sip. 

‘Do you hate me?’ 

Hermione looked up, met with a soft, grey gaze.

Her chest was flayed open again, Malfoy’s long fingers digging around to squeeze her heart hard, making it throb painfully, her blood pumping faster around her veins.   

‘No, Draco.’ She whispered. ‘I don’t hate you. Not at all.’

He let out a long, relieved breath, a smile slowly spreading across his face until it was almost blinding, the familiar crinkles appearing next to his eyes.

‘This all really is terribly dramatic, though.’ Hermione continued wryly. ‘You could have just gotten me flowers or something.’ 

Malfoy laughed, that same low rumble she’d heard before. ‘I’ll get you some flowers too if you like, Granger.’

Hermione backtracked. ‘I didn’t mean… I don’t want flowers… I was-‘ she groaned and he grinned again. She was once more struck by a sensation of surrealism, struggling to adjust to the jarring disparity between how she’d imagined her day going upon waking that morning, to now sitting in Theodore Nott’s penthouse, laughing with Malfoy while he wore her scar on his arm as if it wasn’t still utterly incomprehensible. She sobered, the smile falling from her face. 

Malfoy noticed, his own expression growing serious, eyebrows drawing together.

 ‘Are you okay?’ 

For some reason, the question made Hermione want to cry again.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply for a moment to center herself before she felt she could look back up at him.

‘To be honest, I’m feeling extremely overwhelmed.’ She admitted. ‘I-I can understand your reasons for doing what you’ve done, but I can’t say that it will be easy for me to come to terms with. I suppose I’m also a little confused as to where we go from here? Do I just leave now? Say ‘thank you’ and head off on my way?’

Malfoy didn’t reply immediately. He kept his eyes on her, chewing once again on the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m sorry for the way I treated you that day.’ He said eventually. ‘I realise I haven’t said that yet, and I should have. I was beyond fucked up by the things I’d heard, and I was just so angry. With Cyrus, with myself, with Astoria even. I took it out on you and that was shitty of me.’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Your reaction was understandable. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk before you’d had time to process everything. You’ve been through so much these last few months, Draco. It’s only human nature to have limits. I should have respected them.’

‘Well, now I have had time. Since I last saw you, I’ve been working on getting…better. I’ve been seeing the mind healer, focusing on just wrapping my head around everything. Obviously I still have a long way to go, but I’d really… I don’t want…’
He broke off, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees, fingers steepled, his forehead resting against them.
‘Granger, d-do you want to stay for a bit of breakfast or something?’ The question was directed at the ground. ‘Maybe just spend some time with Aurora and I? You can fill me in on what’s been going on in your life, and I can….’ He trailed away, peeking up under his lashes and spotting the look on her face.

Hermione smiled regretfully. ‘I would really love to see Aurora.’ She told him. ‘But I’m sorry, Draco. I do need to go to work in about...’ she checked her watch. ‘Half an hour.’ 

Malfoy nodded, his expression resigned. ‘It’s alright. I understand.’

‘But I could come back after work? We could get a takeaway or something?’ 

His head shot up. ‘Really? You’d come back?’ 

Hermione almost wanted to laugh at the overt look of shock on his face. She imagined it matched the expression she’d had the whole time she’d been sitting at the glass table. 

‘I will. After work, I’ll come back and we can talk.’ 

The grin was back in full force, eye crinkles and everything. 

‘Fuck, yes. That would be amazing, and yeah, a takeaway, we could do that, but there’s lots of food here too. Theo and I can sort it out. Does that sound okay?’ 

Hermione nodded. ‘That sounds perfect. Now, where’s this baby of yours? I want a cuddle before I go.’ 

‘I’ll get her.’ Malfoy jumped up like there was a spring under his seat. He disappeared down the hallway and returned a few minutes later with Aurora nestled in his arms, his face buried in her hair as he inhaled deeply, like she was a drug he'd been craving and he was finally getting his fix.  
When he lifted his head, his eyes held that same look he always had when he was holding his daughter - pure joy, adoration, and a sort of panicked desperation, as though he’d never get enough of her. 

Aurora could hold her own head easily now and sit upright with help, so when Malfoy sat back on his chair, he propped her on his lap, using his body as a support, his hands wrapped tightly around her tummy.

‘Ohh, hello!’ Hermione breathed. ‘Look at you, Aurora. You have gotten so big.’ 

Aurora blinked up at her, eyebrows drawn together in a way that made her look so much like her father that Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. She reached out and stroked the bottom of the baby’s socked foot, and Aurora kicked her little legs, her eyes still rapt on Hermione’s face, the very beginnings of a smile curving her rosebud lips.

‘You are so beautiful, aren’t you?’ Hermione smiled. ‘A sweet little angel.’ 

Malfoy snorted above her. ‘Maybe not so much between the hours of six and ten pm,’ he grumbled, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, regardless. ‘That’s when she really lives up to the Malfoy name.’

‘Oof.’ Hermione groaned sympathetically. ‘The witching hour.’ 

‘Is that what it’s called?’ He quirked a brow. ‘Sounds about right.’ He dipped down to kiss the top of Aurora’s head again. ‘Theo has been a fucking hero putting up with us for so long. I don’t think I could have gotten through the last few months without him - without all of them, really, but Blaise and Pans get to go home at the end of the day. Theo is here all the time. He sits up with me when Aurora can’t sleep, takes her when I need to do things that require two hands, he’s even learned how to change her nappy, the last thing I ever imagined seeing Nott do.’

‘He’s a wonderful friend.’ Hermione agreed. ‘Truly.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Despite his smile, Malfoy’s eyes were sad and Hermione completely understood why. 

‘Could I maybe get a cuddle before I go?’ She asked, and Malfoy nodded, passing Aurora over, as gentle and reverent as he’d always been.  
Hermione took the baby into her arms, noting the unfamiliar heaviness of a four-month-old, rather than the newborns she was used to. Aurora peered up at her, her expression uncertain now. She smelled of warm milk and washing power, along with the lingering undertones of her father’s aftershave. Hermione held her breath, hoping she didn’t cry. 

Aurora’s eyes were wide and unblinking, such a familiar shade of silvery grey, although her facial features were all Astoria’s - delicate and dainty, rather than pointy and angular like Malfoy’s. 

‘I can’t believe how much she’s changed,’ she murmured wistfully. ‘It happens so quickly.’ 

‘It’s terrifying.’ Malfoy agreed. ‘It probably won’t surprise you to know that I ah… maybe had a slight panic about that myself. Pansy brought me over a Muggle camera, a Polaroid. She uses them for work - taking pictures of the outfits for clients. I’ve been making a kind of scrapbook for Aurora - photos and recording milestones and things. I can… I could show you if you wanted to see it later?’

‘I’d love to.’ Hermione replied. ‘I’ve missed her.’

Again, his eyes were sad when he smiled, his gaze rising to meet hers and holding, potent with all the things that remained unsaid.

Hermione looked away first, her heart fluttering behind her ribs. She turned her attention back to Aurora, who was content in her arms, still studying Hermione’s face intently. 

‘I’ll see you tonight, little one.’ She whispered, smiling once more down at the baby before carefully passing her back to Malfoy, who lifted her onto his shoulder, pressing kisses to her cheek.

Hermione sat back in her chair, glancing at the time again.

 ‘I’m really sorry. I do have to go now,’ she said, quietly. ‘But I finish at six so I should be back around seven. 

‘Seven.’ He repeated softly. ‘We’ll see you at seven.’

He rose to walk her out, murmuring something to Aurora in a low voice. 

There was an awkward pause as they lingered in the doorway.
Hermione floundered for a moment, feeling like she should say something more, but unsure where to even start. 

Eventually, she took the easy way out and bent to Aurora instead. ‘Have a lovely day, sweet girl. I’ll see you later.’

Malfoy reached to open the door for her, and as he did, Hermione’s eyes snagged once again on her scar, struck by the shock of seeing it on Malfoy’s forearm instead of her own. The skin around it was pink and swollen, and Hermione knew that despite his denial, it must be painful. 

Malfoy noticed her looking and dropped his arm, a flush creeping over his cheeks. 

‘I’ll keep it covered later.’ He murmured. ‘You won’t need to see it.’

She nodded, unable to say anything more. 

‘Bye, Granger. I’ll see you tonight.’

‘Bye, Draco.’

Hermione only got as far as the elevator doors before she heard her name again. 

She turned to find Theo striding towards her, dressed and ready for work. 

He enveloped her in a tight hug before she’d even managed to register what he was doing, her feet lifting off the ground with the force of it.

‘Theo.’ She wheezed, her voice muffled by his armpit. ‘Put me down.’ 

He complied immediately, but kept hold of her shoulders, squeezing them enthusiastically.
‘You’re back,’ he beamed. ‘Back in the fold.’ 

Hermione laughed. ‘I wouldn’t quite say that. I don’t know if I was ever in the fold. But yes, I’m going to come back later for dinner.’ 

‘He’s so fucking happy back there, you know.’ Theo grinned. ‘He was proper shitting himself about how you’d react.’ 

‘I’m not sure your input helped matters, Theodore.’

Theo waved an airy hand. ‘Oh, that’s what best friends are for. He knows I was only taking the piss.’ 

‘I would hope so. You’re a menace.’ Hermione aimed for a disapproving tone but couldn’t help smiling too. 

Theo laughed again before stepping back to hold her at arm’s length, his blue eyes moving over her face.
‘Seriously, though, are you okay? I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now. I did try and talk him out of it but he was adamant.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘I don’t really know yet, ask me again tonight.’ 

‘Ah, about that…I was wondering,’ Theo began, a blush creeping over his tanned face. ‘Maybe, you might ask Potter to come tonight, too. I know Malfoy wants to thank him properly and… well, you know.’ 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised into her hairline, wondering how on earth she was going to tell Harry about what Malfoy had done. She thought maybe the lure of seeing Theo might be the perfect way to distract him. 

‘I’ll ask him.’ She smiled. ‘I’m not sure if he’s working yet.’

Theo looked a little disappointed, but he nodded. ‘Alright. See you tonight. Oh, and Granger?’ 

‘Yes, Theo?’ 

‘Thank you, for not giving up on him.’ He reached out and squeezed her fingers. ‘I’m so fucking glad you’re here.’

Hermione nodded, her chest hitching. ‘I’m glad too, Theo.’ She whispered before Apparating away, her heart a fragile, delicate thing, her thoughts a tangled, twisted mess. 

Chapter Text

Hermione had lied when she’d said she needed to go to work. She wasn’t working until later that afternoon. 

What she really needed was to be alone. 

She needed to be away from Malfoy, away from those beseeching grey eyes and words that made her heart hurt and her brain fuzzy. 

She needed space. 

She needed to run. 

Hermione needed to run and run until the feeling that something was about to come bursting out of her chest subsided, and she was ready to let herself actually feel all the things that had built up during their conversation, like gathering clouds before an electrical storm or the first tremors of an earthquake. 

She Apparated home, grateful that Harry was at Quidditch practice, not there to see her expression and ask her if she was alright. 

She thought that if he did, she wouldn’t be able to hold it in the way she had in front of Malfoy and Theo. The grip she had on her self-control felt shaky, and Harry would see through her in an instant. He’d send her defences crashing down and she’d explode all over him, raining down bits of rubble and debris and quite possibly the ragged pieces of her own heart too. 

Hermione changed quickly into her running gear, magically lacing her trainers to save time. She yanked her hair into a ponytail, pulling it through the back of a baseball cap, tucked her wand and some water into a small backpack, and then she was gone, appearing with a pop a few seconds later on a country lane in the Cotswolds, as far away from civilisation as she could manage. 

She didn’t even bother to stretch, she just took off at a pace much faster than her usual jog, enjoying the feeling of her muscles burning, her lungs expanding sharply behind her ribs as she sucked in panting mouthfuls of cold, crisp air. 

It was a welcome alternative to the other ache, the one she’d spent the last three months telling herself didn’t exist, and that now, after the events of that morning, had become significantly more difficult to ignore. 

Her scar. 

Malfoy had taken her scar. 

In the three months since he’d swiftly and effectively ended their tentative, burgeoning friendship, Malfoy hadn’t moved on with his life, the way she’d pictured. He hadn’t been doing what she had, which was to try and convince herself that it was easier that way, that their relationship was best left where it belonged - in the past. 

She’d told herself that both Neville and Malfoy were right. This time, despite desperately wanting to, she hadn’t been able to help. She hadn’t been able to achieve what she’d always had and make herself indispensable by being the person with all the answers. 

She wasn’t an eleven-year-old girl, the unflappable voice of reason between two, excitable and terrified schoolboys. She couldn’t use her academic expertise, nor her unfailing common sense to magically produce a solution. 

Malfoy’s life was so tragic and complicated, his experiences so vastly different to her own, that she’d been unable to find any way to ease his pain. In fact, her presence had only seemed to make things worse. 

The time she’d spent with Malfoy, and the subsequent fallout, had been the catalyst Hermione had needed to finally look introspectively at who she’d been before the war, and who she was now - a woman of thirty years old. 

Hermione had spent some time thinking about what she really wanted from the rest of her life, and had even taken some small, reluctant steps toward making that happen. 

But while she’d been doing her best to forget about Malfoy, he clearly hadn’t been doing the same.

In between looking after Aurora, dealing with his anger, his anxiety, his grief, he’d also been working on finding a way to make good on the words he’d written in his card. 

‘I’d wear it for you if I could.’ 

Malfoy had done what he set out to do, he’d taken her scar from her arm.  

And now, everything was different. 

As a young Muggle girl, Hermione had never quite fit in, she’d never had a best friend or even a friendship group. No one wanted to be her partner on the school bus, or sit by her at lunch. She’d never been invited to parties or asked to tea after school. The other children had found her odd, the unexplainable and unusual things that often happened around her immediately marking Hermione as ‘other’, driving a wedge between her and her peers. Unable to change who she was, she’d thrown herself into academics instead.

When she’d received her Hogwarts letter, Hermione had thought that finally things would be different, that she’d found the reason for her ‘otherness.’ 

She’d been happy to leave her life behind, convinced she’d finally found a place where she could belong. 

The reality of entering the wizarding world and discovering that the chasm still existed, that now she was merely a different kind of ‘other,’ had almost completely broken her spirit.

If she’d had different parents and been brought up to think less of herself, she might have given up. But Hermione’s parents hadn’t brought her up to be the type of girl to let things destroy her. They’d loved her fiercely, raising their daughter with a sense of determination and self-worth. Hermione was resilient, she was scrappy. 

In her friendship with Harry (and, to a lesser degree, Ron), she’d found the acceptance she’d been craving. She’d found her place. All the qualities that had once set her apart had made her needed, wanted. Hermione had loved it, and she’d loved Harry and Ron for needing her.

And so, the first time she had been called a Mudblood, it had been like an arrow to her chest. Hermione had looked into the icy grey eyes of the blonde boy she’d secretly thought was beautiful, and she’d felt the word sailing towards her, piercing her heart as it swiftly burst any illusion she’d ever had of finally belonging somewhere. 

After that, any time Hermione heard it, whispered as she passed or hissed outright into her face, it cut her deeper and deeper.
By the time Bellatrix actually used a dagger to drive the message home, Hermione almost felt like it belonged there on her arm, a label she’d already been wearing for seven years, only now it was carved on the outside too, inescapable, for everyone to see. 

After the war, in amongst so much loss, and when compared to the jagged starburst of mangled scar-tissue above Harry’s heart, her own wound had felt like something she shouldn’t make a fuss about. She was alive, she was healthy. It was just a scar, just a word.

She had very quietly, and without fanfare, grown to accept the fact that no matter what she did, she’d always be ‘other’. They could call her the ‘Golden Girl,’ the ‘Brightest witch of her age,’ but her scar still marked her as different, even if her friends didn’t think so. 

In the twelve years she’d been wearing her label, Hermione had watched the Wizarding world change. She was proud to live in a time where the use of the word ‘Mudblood’ was not just offensive, it was illegal. It was shocking to hear it used, in any capacity. Hermione’s role in the war was well-known. Even if she didn’t have the same level of fame and recognisability as Harry, people were still aware of what she’d done and what had happened to her. Most people expected to see her scar, even if they were still shocked by it - it was a brutal reminder of times past. 

Again, it had taken all of Hermione’s sense of self-worth to not hide it, to learn to live with the emotions that came with wearing a word that hurt her so deeply on her own body, as though she was advertising her deepest insecurities.

Hermione had subconsciously spent her whole life trying to outperform that label. Throughout school and now, in her career. She constantly strived to feel like she was more than the sum of her parts. 

Over the last few months, she’d realised that Neville was right. It was that driving need that had closed her off. She’d ignored the fact that there were people who loved her and cared for her, that maybe some of her limitations were self- imposed.  
In her desire to prove herself, Hermione had pushed relationships away, kept everyone at arm’s length so that presently, it felt like being needed was all she had. 

And now, of all people, Draco Malfoy - the beautiful blonde boy with eyes that were now gentle and sad instead of cold and cruel - had taken that label off her body. His own need to prove himself, to show that he was more than the sum of his parts, had driven him to take drastic measures. He was wearing the word for her. 

Could there have been a more symbolic way for Draco to demonstrate his remorse?

He clearly no longer thought she had dirty blood, if he ever had. But Hermione feared that Malfoy truly believed that he did. He was wearing his perceived failures, his shame, literally on his sleeve, and he’d said that it made him feel good to do so. 

Hermione reached the very top of the hill. She stopped running, bent at the waist with exertion. Every muscle in her body hurt, every breath pulled raggedly from her lungs. There was nothing around but fields and trees and the wide stormy sky, stretching endlessly above her. 

No one could hear her, no one could see her. Hermione could finally admit, if only to herself, how much she’d hated it, how much her scar had held her back, not outwardly, but internally - emotionally. 

She reached down and pulled up her sleeve, running her fingers over the smooth, unblemished skin of her forearm, and she felt the sensation again, like something was about to come bursting out of her chest, too big to contain inside her small form. 

Her magic crackled around her, sparking from her fingertips, like the strike of a match.
Unable to hold it in for a second longer, Hermione let her head fall back, opened her mouth and screamed - long and loud, letting the sound spiral up and up, bursting bright like a firework, so forceful it made her throat hurt, as though she’d been holding it in for years. 

She barely even felt the tears coursing down her cheeks as she closed her eyes and finally let the implications of what Malfoy had done settle into her bones.

Hermione stayed on the hill for a while. 

Even when it began to rain and her clothes grew wet and cold, plastering themselves to her body, she didn’t move. She kept her face turned up to the cloudy sky and let the rain run down her neck in freezing rivulets as she breathed deeply, drawing her magic and her composure, slowly back inside herself. 

Fifteen minutes later, shivering and soaked through, she opened her eyes. She was back in control, more than ready to go home. 

Hermione slithered down the hill, almost falling on her bum a few times as her trainers slipped on the soaking wet grass. She laughed softly to herself, imagining how ridiculous she must look, dripping wet and trembling, like a kitten dunked into a bathtub.  
She cast a quick drying spell over her hair and clothes and jogged back much more slowly, already feeling the lack of a warm-up, her thighs protesting each pounding step. 

Arriving home, Hermione lamented, as she often did, the flat’s lack of a bathtub, fantasising about the luxurious Prefect’s bath as she washed and conditioned her hair in the feeble spray that dribbled from the ancient showerhead.

She braided her hair wet and changed into her work robes before laying out an outfit for later that night, a dress and tights, suitable for a dinner date with a friend. Were they friends again? Hermione wondered. The word felt too simple to describe the relationship she had with Malfoy. Too uncomplicated to encompass all of the confusing, difficult emotions that she experienced when she was around him. 

But, she supposed that they were friends, or they were going to try and be, at least. It was what he’d said, wasn’t it? 

‘I understand if you don’t want to be my friend, just don’t hate me.’

He’d asked her to come back, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted to. She wanted to spend time with Malfoy, and with Aurora and Theo, too. She was looking forward to it. 

Just as she left her room, Harry arrived home, a sweaty, mud-streaked whirlwind bursting through the door. His hair was wild and windswept, a small cut just above one of his eyebrows steadily dripping a thin trail of blood down onto his cheekbone. He was also, however, absolutely euphoric, his eyes shining with triumph. 

‘We kicked arse today, Mi.’ He announced, pulling off his filthy boots and beginning to pull his Quidditch jersey over his head. ‘Ron saved at least four of Angelina’s shots, and then I swiped the snitch right from under Oliver’s nose. It was fucking glorious.’ 

‘That’s amazing. Oh, Harry, put that straight in the wash.’ She frowned, wrinkling her nose at the damp shirt he’d just peeled off. Instead of doing as she’d said, Harry flicked the sweaty jersey in her direction, snickering as she shrieked.

‘Come on, Mi, give me a hug.’ He grinned, advancing on her menacingly, his arms open wide. ‘You know you want to.’ 

Hermione darted out under his arm, retreating behind the sofa to safety. ‘Get back.’ She laughed. ‘You’re disgusting, Harry.’ 

‘I really am.’ Harry agreed, smirking. He headed into the kitchenette, bending to throw his jersey into the washing machine drum, hopping on one leg as he pulled off his socks one by one and threw them in too. 

‘Keep your bloody breeches on.’ She warned, and Harry laughed. 

‘You know I won’t. Just turn around if you don’t want to see.’ 

Hermione shook her head, keeping her back turned as he streaked past her into the bathroom. 

‘Can we talk when you’re done?’ She called. ‘It won’t take long.’ 

Harry’s messy head poked back out of the door, his expression suspicious. 

‘Of course. Everything okay?’ 

That was a subjective question if she’d ever heard one. In lieu of a proper answer, Hermione flapped her hand instead. ‘We’ll talk after your shower,’ she said. ‘Hurry up. You stink.’ 

Harry gave her a hard look before disappearing back inside, showering quickly and coming back into the kitchen five minutes later, his hair still wet, dressed casually in his Field Auror black trousers and fitted T-shirt. 

‘What’s going on, then?’ He asked, sliding his glasses back onto his face and studying her expression, clearly unsure if he should be concerned.  
Hermione passed him a cup of tea, sitting down on the sofa and patting the seat next to her, indicating that Harry should join. He obliged, turning to her and waiting.

Hermione curled her legs up underneath her, took a deep breath and began to talk. 

Fifteen minutes later, they still sat together on the sofa, Harry’s hand wrapped gently around Hermione’s wrist as the fingers of his other hand smoothed gently over the clear skin of her forearm, his jaw tight, green eyes cast down at the place where her scar had once been. 

‘I don’t believe Malfoy actually took it,’ he murmured. ‘That’s so insane, Mi.’ 

‘I know,’ Hermione replied softly, watching Harry’s fingers as they traced the clear skin where the letters used to be. ‘I’m as shocked as you are.’ 

Harry’s gaze slid up to meet hers, his eyes gentle. 

‘Are you…alright? I mean, this is huge, Hermione. It’s life-changing. You’ve had that scar for twelve years. I know it obviously wasn’t something you wanted, but you fought for it. It was a part of you and he didn’t ask. He just took it.’

Hermione picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, thinking about what Harry had said. As far as life-changing scars went, he had plenty of experience.

‘But,’ he continued, his expression pensive. ‘At the same time, I get it. In sixth year, when I realised I’d hurt Malfoy so badly, I would have done anything to take it back. I still feel terrible now. I understand why he wanted to do this, why he feels like he should. If he wants to prove to you that he’s remorseful for his past, then I suppose this is an irrefutable way to do it…but Mi,’ Harry shook his head, his expression disbelieving. ‘The magic he must have used. Christ, it’s powerful. I don’t know as much about Cursebreaking as Malfoy does, but I know enough. This is not something someone does lightly.’ 

He paused, his next words measured and careful. 

‘It just seems like a massive thing to do for someone you used to hate. I mean, what is your relationship with Malfoy now? I know you were beginning to get close a few months ago, but after the funeral parlour and all the drama surrounding that, you haven’t seen him in a while, and… you’ve got your own things going on now. How do you even feel about him?’

‘We’re just friends.’ Hermione said quickly. ‘Malfoy’s wife hasn’t long died and he has a tiny baby to bring up. You were there at the funeral home, Harry. You understand how hard things are for him. All I know is, we get along well, and he’s been so open about how he feels, how much he wants to make up for the past. I just…’

‘You like him.’ Harry said, simply, and his expression wasn’t judgmental, nor disapproving. There was no insinuation in his tone. 

Hermione sagged, unbearably relieved that Harry knew her as well as he did, that he really meant it when he’d said all those years ago that he would always be there for her, no matter what. 

‘Yes,’ she replied quietly. ‘As a friend, I like him a lot.’ 

‘And clearly, he likes you, too…A lot.’ 

‘As a friend.’ Hermione clarified. 

Harry nodded slowly. Hermione knew him well enough to see that Harry had more he wanted to say, but, in a very rare turn of events, he decided to keep it to himself. ‘You didn’t answer me earlier, when I asked if you were okay.’ He said instead. ‘How have you left things with him now?’ 

‘Well,’ Hermione began. ‘I actually told him I’ll go back there tonight. We’ve obviously got more talking to do, and also, I want to see Aurora.’

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘You didn’t already have other plans tonight?’ 

‘That’s tomorrow,’ Hermione replied, flushing. ‘Actually, there was an invitation for you, too. For dinner, at Theo’s. He’s going to be there. He said he’d love to see you.’ The last part wasn’t strictly true, but Harry didn’t need to know that. 

Now it was Harry’s turn to blush. Almost immediately the tips of his ears were bright red, colour creeping across his cheeks and down his neck to the collar of his T-shirt. 

‘Theo said that? He wants to see me?’

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, hoping that Harry was distracted enough that he couldn’t see she was over-egging it. Sometimes it was difficult being friends with an investigative Auror - he could always tell when there was skullduggery afoot.  
However, this skullduggery was necessary, she felt. Sometimes you needed to give ‘shy’ people a helping hand.  

She needn’t have worried - Harry most definitely was sufficiently distracted. In fact, he was spiralling.

‘Well… I mean… I want to talk to Malfoy about all this… and I needed to update him on the Greengrasses, anyway. It could be a good time… but Theo didn’t ever text me…I wasn’t sure if…do you think he meant it? Do you really think he wants me to go?’ 

Hermione smiled. Harry was adorable when he was flustered. ‘Yes, Harry.’ She said, cupping his face so she could use her wand to heal the cut above his eyebrow.  ‘I really think Theo wants you to go.’

Harry took a deep breath. ‘O-okay. I can do that. I’ll come after work.’ His whole face was alight, a hopeful spark in his eyes she didn’t think she’d ever seen before. ‘I’ll meet you at the Penthouse. What time?’

As Hermione filled Harry in on the plans for the evening, a nervous bubble of anticipation swelled in her own stomach. He had taken the news of what Malfoy had done as well as she could have hoped. As usual, Harry trusted her judgement. He never tried to tell her how she should feel about things. If she was happy, he was happy. She was glad he was going to be there with her tonight - a familiar strength when she was feeling fragile, a lighthouse in unfamiliar waters. 

As Harry left for work, he was positively thrumming with nervous energy, doing up the clasp of his Auror robes with fumbling fingers. ‘See you tonight.’ He said, giving her a tight hug. ‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ 

Hermione nodded, feeling like she’d already climbed several mountains that day instead of only one relatively small hill. ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘See you later.’ They Apparated away together.

Thankfully, the rest of the day passed quickly. As usual, Hermione’s shift was busy. She spent the first hour completing ward rounds and overseeing the discharges before she and Katie were called into the operating theatre to help with the delivery of a set of slightly premature twins.

She kept her sleeves firmly pulled down the entire day, in no way ready to tell anyone other than Harry what Malfoy had done just yet. She needed to think about how to explain where her scar had gone, to come up with a story slightly less implausible than the actual truth. 

As five o'clock rolled around, Hermione gratefully passed over to Danielle, then headed home to freshen up.
After her shower, she changed into the outfit she’d set out, freeing her hair from her work braid and spraying it with a leave-in conditioner to rejuvenate the curls. 

Then she applied some simple make-up and her perfume before leaving the flat, choosing to walk rather than Apparate, hoping to stretch out the ache in her thighs from her earlier run. She stopped in an Off-Licence on the way, picking up a bottle of wine and a bottle of Ogden’s wrapped in brown paper, before continuing on the short distance to Theo’s. 

When Hermione arrived outside Hebridean Heights, the doorman simply stepped back to push open the door, lifting his hat to greet her with a tip of his head and a polite, ‘Good evening, Miss Granger.’ 

‘Thank you, uhh…Jason.’ She smiled, reading the gold name badge on his chest. Jason grinned back, his chest puffing up proudly as Hermione passed, stepping inside the large, echoing lobby. 

She didn’t think her legs could handle so many sets of stairs in their sorry state, heading to the lift instead and asking, very quietly and politely as the doors slid shut, ‘Slow trip to the penthouse, please.’ 

She braced herself, smiling faintly at her own ridiculousness as the elevator lurched gently and then trundled up towards the penthouse at a maddeningly slow pace, almost as though it were trying to antagonise her.  
What felt like almost a full ten minutes later, she stepped out of the glass doors and into the now familiar hallway of the top floor, huffing slightly as the doors immediately began to slide shut, barely giving her enough time to exit.

Anticipation built as she neared Theo’s door, a renewed fizz of nerves zinging up her spine. Hermione loitered outside for a moment, psyching herself up. As she reached up to knock, she became aware of a sound coming from inside, muffled by the thick oak of the door - A loud, high-pitched wail, one Hermione would recognise anywhere. 

‘Ohh.’ She grimaced. It sounded like Malfoy was right, Aurora certainly had upped her game.  

It took a few increasingly hard knocks before the door swung open and Malfoy poked his head out, looking almost as surprised and dishevelled as he had earlier that morning. He was wearing a… a hoodie? Soft grey and form-fitting, with a small embroidered badge on the chest. She’d never imagined Malfoy in a hoodie, but as usual, he pulled it off ridiculously well. He looked hot…sweaty, a fine sheen gleaming on his forehead, his cheeks more flushed than she’d ever seen them.

Aurora was cradled in the crook of his arm, her little face red and screwed up as she screamed blue bloody murder. Malfoy bounced her frantically, his eyes slightly wild. 

‘Granger!’  She thought he said, although it was hard to tell over Aurora’s din. ‘You came.’ 

He beckoned for her to enter, grey eyes flicking up and down her body, then lingering over her hair before moving to fix on her face, his jaw firm. 

‘Come in, come in.’  

Hermione entered the penthouse, slightly alarmed by the sight that greeted her. 

Theodore Nott stood next to the large range cooker, a plume of grey smoke emanating from a pan that simmered there. He raked one hand through his hair, the other stirring whatever was in the pan maniacally, splashing a brownish liquid everywhere. 

Aurora continued screaming as Malfoy shifted her onto his shoulder, taking the Ogdens from Hermione’s outstretched hand and shouting his thanks.  
Hermione sniffed the air covertly, trying her best not to look concerned by the distinct aroma of burning.

‘Hi,’ she called, and Theo straightened and turned from where he was now peering into the oven, the bemused look on his face quickly changing to panic when he saw her. He was wearing an apron, the embroidered letters on his chest imploring the reader to ‘Kiss The Cook.’

‘Shit. It’s already seven?’ His eyes darted frantically around the room, a mix of relief and disappointment obvious in his expression when he realised Harry wasn’t with her. 

‘Harry won’t be long.’ She said. ‘He’s coming straight from work.’ 

Theo paused for a moment, his eyes lighting up in an almost mirror image of the way Harry’s had earlier that day. ‘Okay, wonderful,’ he grinned. ‘We’re kind of running a little behind on dinner anyway.’

Hermione stepped closer to the kitchen area, peering around in what she hoped was veiled horror. 

The beautiful marble countertops looked as though a Bombarda had gone off in the vicinity. There were several vegetables strewn about, chopped into chunks with varying levels of success. Some potatoes lay in a heavily oiled roasting dish, others remained scattered over the countertop. A bag of flour was overturned, the contents fanned out across the marble.  
But, most concerningly (and somewhat gruesomely), there were also matching spots of bright red blood, leading from a discarded knife on a chopping board, over the pages of what appeared to be some sort of cookbook, and straight towards Theodore Nott, who now, thankfully, appeared unharmed.

‘Sorry!’ Malfoy shouted from her side, rubbing his hand fruitlessly over Aurora’s back as she writhed angrily, her cries unceasing. 

‘We’ve had a bit of a nightmare. It’s all under control now, though.’ 

Hermione nodded encouragingly, casting her eyes around again. There were several baby clothes spread out on the large corner sofa, a lone tiny pink sock draped over one arm next to a half-finished bottle.  
On the floor was a brightly coloured playmat, some discarded rattles and a pale blue stuffed dragon, along with what appeared to be the other sock.
Aurora’s little feet were bare, and Malfoy clasped one absently, running his thumb over her toes as he turned to Hermione, pulling an apologetic face. 

‘I was really hoping Lady Malfoy might have done me a solid tonight,’ he said. ‘But she’s on form. I haven’t had a second to help Theo with the dinner.’   

‘Oh, it’s okay.’ Hermione reassured him. ‘There’s no rush. Can I do anything to help?’ 

‘No, no. It’s fine. I’ll get you a drink. What do you fancy? Wine? Champagne? We’ve got everything and anything.’ 

Hermione was mostly relying on lip-reading, such was the volume of Aurora’s cries.  
Malfoy’s face was tight, his smile plastered on as he attempted to look unbothered. He rocked back and forth a little as Aurora writhed angrily on his shoulder, her cries unceasing.

Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. He was clearly used to this happening, but…

‘Can I take her for a moment?’ Hermione offered again. ‘Do you need a sec?’ 

Malfoy shook his head, his arms tightening around his daughter. 

‘No. No, thanks. She won’t settle for anyone else when she’s like this.’

He glanced up at Theo, who was pouring an extremely generous amount of salt into the smoking pan of sauce, which he had still failed to stir, frowning at the cookbook he now clutched in one hand.

‘Nott?’ He called. ‘Can you get Hermione a drink? I’m going to try and settle Aurora in the other room.’  
He looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry. This isn’t how I envisaged tonight going.’ 

‘Draco,’ Hermione put a hand on his arm. ‘It’s okay. Take as long as you need. I’ll be happy here, drinking wine with Theo.’

He nodded. ‘Alright. I have a technique that usually works.’ He pressed a kiss to Aurora’s temple. ‘I won’t be long.’ 

She watched as he left the room, murmuring to the wailing baby in his usual quiet fashion, swiping the half-finished bottle from the arm of the sofa as he passed. 

‘Wine?’ Theo called from the kitchen area.‘Do you want the one you brought, or I’ve got an open bottle of Pinot here? 

‘Pinot is fine.’ Hermione replied, rounding the island to stand next to him. Theo poured them both a generous measure and they clinked glasses before each taking a large sip. The wine was delicious, and clearly expensive. Hermione took another sip, savouring the crisp, dry flavour. 

‘Cheers to you, darling.’ Theo said. ‘The newest member of Team ‘Save Draco Malfoy.’

Hermione’s throat tried to close around her swallow. She blinked furiously, blindsided by the rush of emotion Theo’s words invoked.

‘He’s been a nervous wreck waiting for you to arrive,’ Theo said. ‘Panicking all day that you wouldn’t come.’

‘Well… I came.’ Hermione replied softly and Theo smiled, kissing her tenderly on her cheek. 

‘Yes, you did. Thank you.’ 

Hermione swallowed heavily again, turning to peer into the slowly congealing mixture on the hob to distract herself. 

‘I… I think this might need stirring, Theo love.’ She said. ‘May I?’ 

‘Go for it.’ He murmured, taking a large swig of wine. ‘I don’t have a clue what the bloody hell I’m doing.’

Hermione picked up a wooden spoon and began stirring, choosing to ignore the burnt flakes that rose to the surface. 

‘Erm, what are we actually having?’ She inquired, looking over at the cookbook. 

‘Oh fuck knows.’ Theo replied. ‘Those who must not be named popped over from the manor and left a load of ingredients with this cookbook, apparently it was the simplest thing we could make from scratch, so easy that even two idiots like Malfoy and me couldn’t cock it up.’ 

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Clearly, the manor elves had been a little overoptimistic. 

‘There’s a whole roast chicken in the oven too,’ Theo said. ‘Although it doesn’t look like the picture. It’s a bit… pale.’  
He suddenly fixed her with a hopeful look. ‘Can you cook, Granger?’

Hermione was, thankfully, saved from replying by a knock at the door. Theo flinched like a gun had gone off. ‘Circe, it’s him.’ 

He hurriedly whipped off his apron to reveal a fitted blue shirt underneath, undone at the neck, the same way his black one had been the last time. The blue was almost exactly the same shade as his eyes, offsetting his olive skin perfectly. He fiddled with his hair, sweeping it back from his face as he turned to Hermione. 

‘Do I look okay?’ 

‘You look gorgeous, Theo.’ Hermione replied honestly, reaching up to straighten his collar. ‘Go and let him in.’ 

Theo wetted his lips, grabbed his glass of wine and then headed to the door. She watched him forcibly relax his posture, his movements turning loose, a slow, languid smile crossing his face as he pulled the door open. 

A moment of absolute silence followed. Hermione watched, waiting, unable to see Harry from her vantage point. 

‘Hello, you.’ Theo said eventually, his voice a low purr. ‘Come in.’

‘Theodore.’ Harry’s reply was equally as low as he stepped inside, a wolfish smile on his face.  
He was still wearing his Auror robes, a tactical move if Hermione had ever seen one, however, they clearly seemed to be having the desired effect. Theo’s eyes were on stalks, his gaze hot on Harry as he stepped closer. 

‘Thanks for the invite,’ Harry held out yet another bottle of Ogden’s. ‘It was a nice surprise when Hermione asked.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Theo licked his lips again as he took the bottle from Harry, their fingers brushing for a beat longer than necessary. ‘You wanted to come?’ 

Harry’s eyes followed the swipe of Theo’s tongue, his own darting out to mimic the movement as he subconsciously leaned closer. ‘I did.’

There was silence again, so loaded that Hermione felt sweat prickle on her own neck, never mind theirs. Theo and Harry were utterly lost in each other, Theo’s chest rising and falling rapidly under his shirt as he stared at Harry like he wanted to absolutely devour him. 

‘Hello, Harry.’ She called from the kitchen, slightly worried that Theo really had forgotten she was there and she might suddenly get more than she bargained for.

The two men stepped apart, Harry turning around dazedly, his eyes slightly unfocused. She recognised the same bamboozled expression he’d worn the last time she’d left him alone with Theo, like he’d already drunk a whole bottle of Ogdens to himself.

‘Mione.’ The sound of her name seemed to break the spell as Harry finally crossed the room to kiss her cheek, his own nose wrinkling as he registered the smell in the air. ‘Bloody hell, what’s burning?’ He grimaced down into the now almost solid lump in the saucepan on the hob. 

‘That’s gravy,’ Theo shrugged as though it were obvious. ‘To go with the roast chicken in the oven.’ 

Harry bent to the oven, frowning for a moment before pressing his hand to the back of the glass. 

‘Nott…’ he said. ‘I hate to break it to you, but this oven isn’t even on.’

Five minutes later, Harry had taken control of the kitchen. 

Theo poured them all fresh glasses of wine and then leaned against the counter, watching intently as Harry replaced his Auror robes with Theo’s apron, rolled up his sleeves and got to work. 

Within seconds, the ingredients were organised, the vegetables sautéed perfectly, and the oven actually turned on, magically charmed to cook the chicken in record time.

‘Nott, can you help me with these potatoes?’ Harry asked, and Theo, who had been staring fixedly at Harry’s hands as he chopped, looked up at him, his eyes heavy, the blue a thin ring around his pupils.

‘I need to make sure they’re all tossed perfectly.’ Harry smiled, showing a set of sharp, white teeth. 

Theo’s answering grin was positively filthy. ‘I’d love to help you, Potter,’ he drawled. ‘I’m very good at tossing.’

Hermione took Harry’s answering swallowed groan as her cue to leave. Malfoy had been gone almost twenty minutes and she could no longer hear Aurora’s cries, although she thought she could hear something else, a faint sound, trickling down the hallway.

She left the kitchen area and followed the sound, heading out of the large living room and down the passage, her steps muffled by the thick carpet.  

The hallway was long and high-ceilinged, and Hermione immediately recognised several of the art pieces hung along the pristine white walls. There were several doors on each side, but she quickly discovered the room where Malfoy had taken Aurora. 

Music. That had been what she could hear. A gentle, familiar melody reaching her ears as she stopped outside the open door.  

Hermione peered inside. 

The room appeared to be a second sitting room, or possibly a music room. There was a piano at one end, a squashy leather sofa positioned next to it at an angle, clearly meant for the pianist’s audience. On the other side sat an old Muggle record player, wall-to-wall shelves stacked full of records running the full length of the back wall.  
The music was coming from the record player, an old Motown song Hermione knew well from her childhood. 

Malfoy stood in the center of the room, his back to Hermione, so that all she could see were long legs, tousled blonde hair and a broad, muscular back. He hadn’t seen her or heard her, had no idea he was being observed. 

He turned slowly, moving in time to the music, his daughter held tightly to his chest, one hand curved under her bottom, the other carefully cradling the back of her head. Aurora was now fast asleep, content in her father’s arms, the fingers of one small hand splayed over his shoulder, the other fisted under her chin. Malfoy’s head was dipped, his face pressed into Aurora’s hair, the pale shade of blonde almost identical to his own. His eyes were closed, eyebrows drawn together as he quietly murmured the words to the song. 

Hermione couldn’t speak. She couldn’t bring herself to make her presence known. The feeling that something was going to burst out of her chest rose again, fluttering behind her rib cage. She brought a hand up to her sternum, the arm that had once been scarred, but now was smooth and unblemished. She pressed it over her pounding heart, feeling it thud heavily against her palm. 

After a few minutes, the song ended and a hush fell over the room. The only sounds were Aurora’s steady breathing and Hermione’s pounding heart, blood rushing loud in her ears.

As though he could sense her, Malfoy suddenly raised his head, grey eyes snapping open to fix on hers. 

Hermione cast about, desperately needing an excuse as to why she’d been watching him dance with his daughter, lurking in the shadows without letting him know she was there. However, her throat seemed to have closed up, she couldn’t find her words.

But Malfoy didn’t move either. He only held her gaze, his eyes dark, his Adam’s apple sliding down his throat as he swallowed.

Hermione was frozen, her heart stuttering in her chest, her stomach churning violently. 

‘I..’ she began. ‘I’m…’ 

Her phone suddenly beeped in her pocket, the message tone loud and obnoxious in the silence.

Malfoy blinked, the tension bleeding out of his expression, his eyes pulling away from hers. 

‘Sorry,’ Hermione muttered, fumbling in the pocket of her dress to fish out her phone. ‘Sorry.’ She ignored the message icon, turning the phone to silent and looking back up at Malfoy. 

‘Don’t you need to reply to that?’ His voice was quiet, one eyebrow lifting.

Hermione shook her head, shoving the phone back deep into her pocket. ‘It’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing important.’ 

Malfoy smiled. ‘Alright.’ He turned his attention back to Aurora, looking down and stroking her hair softly. ‘She’s out like a light. I should have a few hours before she needs her next bottle. Shall we go and sit down for dinner?’ 

Hermione nodded, still feeling a little unmoored, her legs slightly wobbly. She blamed it on the wine. 

They headed back to the living area silently, Malfoy leading the way. 

Hermione had expected to find Theo and Harry still cooking dinner, but the expansive room appeared to be empty, there was no one at the glass dining table or on any of the large white sofas. Hermione looked outside, but could see nothing except the glowing blue light of the pool, steam once again rising from the surface.  
The smell of roast chicken and buttery potatoes filled the space, a wooden spoon charmed to stir the gravy that simmered on the hob, the ingredients still spread out over the counter. There was absolutely no sign of Theo or Harry. 

‘Oh,’ Hermione murmured as she looked around. ‘Harry was here. I don’t know where they’ve gone.’ 

Malfoy smirked. ‘I do.’ He flicked his hand in the direction of the kitchen area muttering, ‘Revelio.’ Instantly, two tall figures materialised, one leaning down, bent over the other, pressing them firmly back against the countertop. 

Harry and Theo sprang apart, Harry’s hands falling away from where they’d been fisted in Theo’s hair, his thigh immediately removing itself from its place firmly inserted between Theo’s.  
Both men were breathing hard, their lips pink and swollen, their faces flushed. 

‘Hello, Potter.’ Malfoy grinned, his grey eyes crinkling with mirth as Harry floundered, stepping away from Theo, who was still flat against the countertop, running a hand through his hair and panting raggedly. ‘Did you know you’ve got two flour handprints on your arse?’

Chapter Text

It turned out Harry didn’t just have flour on his bum. It was also in his hair, on his face - everywhere that Theo had touched, which appeared to be…pretty much everywhere.

There was also flour all over Theo’s hands, in his own hair and over his back where Harry had pushed him down into the spilt flour on the countertop.

All in all, the evidence was pretty damning. Hermione couldn’t be quite certain what might have happened had she and Malfoy not interrupted.

As it was, the next few minutes were more than a little awkward as both Harry and Theo attempted to compose themselves, a crimson-faced Harry sheepishly casting a wandless Scourgify over Theo and then himself as Malfoy watched with a wry smirk, not allowing either of them the slightest reprieve.

Hermione nudged him in the ribs. ‘Stop it, you,’ she murmured. ‘You’re making it worse.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Malfoy grinned. ‘You missed a spot, Potter.’ He called, snickering when Harry gave him the finger.

Once he’d been thoroughly de-floured, Theo busied himself, sticking his head into cupboards and pulling out plates and cutlery, clattering them noisily onto the marble. Harry jumped at the request for help, and within seconds, low, secretive murmuring had started up in the kitchen area again, punctuated by bursts of hushed laughter.

Malfoy looked over helplessly at Hermione, who shrugged, inordinately pleased.
‘Looks like Harry and Theo have dinner perfectly in hand.’ She smiled primly.

Malfoy grimaced. ‘Quite literally.’ He turned to watch them again. Harry was now attempting to stir the gravy manually, his rhythm faltering when Theo moved to press close behind him, gripping the counter hard and whispering something into Harry’s ear that had him blushing to the roots of his hair.

‘Is this really happening, do you think, Granger?’ Malfoy asked. ‘My best friend and yours?’

‘This is most definitely happening, Draco.’ Hermione confirmed gravely. ‘I’ll be surprised if they even make it to dinner.’

‘Merlin, help us. Theo will be absolutely insufferable.’ He shook his head, although his lips quirked upwards. ‘This is every one of his boyhood wet dreams come to life.’

‘Oi, I can hear you, dickhead.’ Theo called from the kitchen, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Bugger off and leave me and Potter to cook in peace, would you?’

Hermione and Malfoy looked at each other, another unintended giggle bubbling up in her chest at the sight of Malfoy’s disgruntled expression.

He motioned towards the corner sofa in the living area section of the open plan. ‘Shall we sit for a bit, then?’

Hermione nodded, waiting while he topped up her wine one-handed and carried it for her, placing it down on a glass coffee table that matched the dining set and then sitting down, arranging Aurora comfortably in the crook of his arm, a cream velvet pillow propped under her bum. He plucked the lone pink sock from the arm of the sofa, tucking it into the pocket of his hoodie.

Hermione joined him a moment later, settling into the corner seat and reaching for her wine, sipping slowly, savouring the sharpness on her tongue.
‘Are you not having one?’ She asked, noticing Malfoy hadn’t poured wine for himself.

He shook his head ruefully. ‘No. Not when Aurora is this little and Theo’s already sunk half a bottle of Pinot.’ He looked rather longingly at Hermione’s beading glass as he continued. ’It’s the same reason I don’t use my Occlusion any more. In the past… I found it too easy to shut myself away, make myself numb, especially when things felt like too much. I… I got reliant on it, and I missed so many things because of it. I don’t want to do that again. I’m Aurora’s sole parent. I want to be alert, prepared if anything goes wrong. I need to be present for her.’

Hermione hadn’t known Malfoy was an Occlumens. She thought back to the ‘episodes,’ Anastasia Greengrass had mentioned that day at the funeral home and wondered if Malfoy had been using his Occlusion to try and keep himself sane during his time in Azkaban. Walling yourself off was a useful tool to have, but one that she imagined could easily become a habit any time a person was overwhelmed. She thought about how much she’d watched him suffer after Astoria’s death and once again was astounded by Malfoy’s love and dedication to his daughter. It took a huge amount of inner strength to deny yourself a form of self-preservation, especially when faced with what Malfoy had been over the past few months.

‘That makes perfect sense, Draco.’ She agreed, placing her wine back down.

On the coffee table in front of them was a thick photo album. The front cover was a pale cornflower blue leather, padded and decorated with tiny gold stars, embossed with the words:

My First Year 

Aurora Astoria Narcissa Malfoy

A Polaroid camera sat next to the album, several photos spread out on the glass.

Hermione leaned forward to get a better look.

The first photo was of Aurora, lying on her playmat in just a nappy. She was grinning up at the photographer, her little feet firmly grasped in her hands. Hermione noticed small, chubby rolls finally beginning to appear on her arms and thighs. Her cheeks were bunched, her eyes shining with joy. Draco had written the date and an accompanying note below it in his familiar looping script.

Hermione's chest constricted a little.

In the second image, Aurora was on her playmat again. This time, the picture had caught her reaching up to swipe at a star-shaped rattle that hung from the activity gym arcing over her head.

Malfoy was lying next to her on the floor, one arm stretched out towards Aurora, the other bent underneath his head where he’d evidently fallen dead asleep on the carpet, blonde hair cascading in a tumble over his forehead, his lower lip pouting in repose. The caption for this picture simply said:

The constriction in her chest tightened, Hermione’s poor heart squeezing painfully.

The third picture was of Theo, sitting on the same couch Hermione and Malfoy were sitting on now. Theo held Aurora aloft, his forearms taut, large hands gripping firmly onto her waist as he grinned up at her. Aurora was clearly squealing with delight, her mouth open wide. Theo’s eyes sparkled with affection, his love for the little girl movingly evident. The photo’s caption read: 

Hermione smiled, her eyes running over the joyful faces in the photographs, beautiful images that betrayed nothing of the heartache that underpinned Aurora’s entry into the world.

‘Those are just the ones I haven’t stuck in yet.’ Malfoy murmured, indicating the album. Hermione leaned over and picked it up carefully.

‘May I?’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

Hermione gently opened the front cover, finding the same picture she had at home, printed on the front of the card Malfoy had given her. The photo of Aurora in the hospital, just a day or two old and yawning widely. She smiled faintly at the familiar image before turning the page, holding it carefully by the corner.

The next double spread was filled with writing, an introductory page for Aurora entitled ‘All About Me.’

Hermione’s throat began to ache as she read.

Hermione’s vision blurred as she remembered Malfoy’s first moments with Aurora, picturing him bent over her crib in the hospital, talking and talking as tears fell freely from his eyes. The memory as clear in her mind as if it were only yesterday. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her brimming tears away as she turned the page.

The next section was entitled IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE and Malfoy had begun filling it with photographs, all Polaroids except for one.

The first was a photograph of Draco and Aurora. He was wearing a shirt and the soft grey jumper she’d seen him in before. Aurora was wrapped in a knitted blanket, cradled tightly in his arms. His eyes were closed, his face pressed tenderly into her hair. Beneath the photo, he’d written:

There was one of Theo, awkward in those first few weeks, one ankle propped on the other knee as he held Aurora for the picture, Malfoy was also in shot, hovering at Theo’s elbow, anxiously waiting to take Aurora back.

Blaise and Pansy were sitting together for their photo, Blaise’s head thrown back as he laughed at something unknown, brown eyes shining with amusement. Pansy, however, looked straight at the camera, her skin and make-up flawless, despite the relaxed atmosphere of the shot, smiling wryly like she was posing for a modelling shoot. They held Aurora between them, their knees touching, both as immaculate as always.

The last photo was older, a moving, magical picture. In the image, Astoria Malfoy smiled on a loop. She was in a garden, it appeared, maybe the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The sun was shining and she was barefoot on the neatly mown grass, colourful flowers blooming in the hedgerow behind her. She was wearing a blush pink dress, high-necked and made of lace. She looked almost exactly as Hermione remembered - small and pale, her eyes the lightest of blues, her mousy brown hair fine and straight, falling to her elbows. However, although she still appeared fragile, she ran her hands over a large baby bump, smoothing down her dress and turning to the side, obviously being directed by the photographer whom Hermione could only assume must have been Draco. She looked happy, her eyes tired around the edges but bright and full of joy, a jarring contrast to the last time Hermione had seen her.

Written underneath was:

Hermione swiped surreptitiously at her eyes.

Behind her, Malfoy was silent, his teeth worrying at a thumbnail.

She noticed there were no photos of Narcissa, and Hermione couldn’t help wondering again where she was. Malfoy hadn’t mentioned her at any time in the last four months, other than to make the pointed decision to name his baby after her. There was obviously no bad blood between them, and Narcissa hadn’t died (Hermione had checked), so where on Earth was she?

Hermione flipped the page, relieved to find that the rest of the album consisted mostly of shots of Aurora over the weeks and months she’d missed. There were two or three Polaroids for each week , each one captioned with an explanation of what Aurora was doing, or who she was with.

As she looked at the pictures, Hermione gradually got her emotions under control, laughing as Malfoy pointed at one and told her that it was the day of Aurora’s first ‘Poonami,’ giggling uncontrollably when he explained what that was. In the photo, Malfoy held Aurora gingerly away from his white shirt, his expression horrified as Blaise cracked up next to him, holding his hands up as if to keep Malfoy back.

‘These are wonderful,’ Hermione breathed. ‘The perfect way to memorialise her first year.’

‘I think so.’ Malfoy’s voice was low in her ear. He was closer than she’d realised, his exhales tickling her neck where he’d leaned in to look at the album over her shoulder. He smelled of aftershave and washing powder and she could feel the heat of his forearm where it pressed at her back-

‘Ahhh, you’re showing Granger the memory book.’

Hermione jolted, looking up to find Theo standing in front of them, the bottle of Pinot in hand. ‘Top up, darling?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘I’m good, thanks, Theo.’

‘Did he show you the nappy blowout photo yet?’ Theo smirked. ‘All over his Gucci shirt too.’

Hermione laughed. ‘He did. That’s one to keep for her eighteenth birthday.’

Theo suddenly became animated. ‘Oh, Malfoy, shall we try and get the picture of Granger you wanted?’ Hermione glanced sharply up at Malfoy, who immediately coloured, a pink flush dusting his cheeks.

‘It’s- it’s not like that,’ he stuttered, throwing Theo a murderous look. ‘It’s just, I ah, I did mention that I kind of feel like you deserve a spot on the ‘People who are important to me’ page. Aurora might not even be here if it wasn’t for you.’

‘Oh,’ Hermione whispered, unbelievably moved by the sentiment.

‘Go on, then.’ Theo urged. ‘Hand her the baby and I’ll take the picture.’

‘Really? Are you sure… ‘ Hermione began. ‘I don’t know if..’ but Malfoy had already risen, bending to place Aurora carefully into her arms. Hermione took her, seemingly being given no choice, settling the baby into the crook of her arm.

Aurora began fidgeting, jostled by the transfer. Hermione readjusted her arms to make her more comfortable, watching her little face relax as she settled, twitching slightly in sleep. She dipped her head to breathe in Aurora's sweet, milky scent, smoothing her hair back from her face.

The sudden pop and flash of the Polaroid took Hermione by surprise. She snapped her head up to find Theo squinting one-eyed into the viewfinder, slowly lowering the camera.

‘That’s a good one, I think.’

‘But I wasn’t ready.’ Hermione protested, aware she sounded a little petulant. ‘I didn’t know you were taking it.’

‘That’s the whole point,’ Malfoy replied as Theo took the small rectangle of card that slid slowly out of the slot by the corner, waving it a few times and then placing it down on the table. ‘Natural shots are better. They show the person as they genuinely are, rather than in a manufactured pose.’

‘Oh.’ Hermione supposed it made sense, but she’d really have appreciated being prepared - she didn’t think she was the most photogenic.

They all looked down as, slowly, the image on the Polaroid began to develop, the white surface gradually filling in with colour and shapes.

Hermione saw herself appear as she’d been captured in the moment, unaware and unselfconscious.

A rogue curl had escaped from behind her ear, brushing her cheekbone as she gazed down at Aurora, nestled comfortably in her arms. Her lips curved into a small, tender smile, her fingers frozen in the act of gently sweeping the blonde strands away from Aurora’s forehead.

Malfoy walked around and picked up the photo, smiling. But as the image fully materialised, he stilled, his breath catching in his throat.

He looked down at the Polaroid for an unbearably long time, the tension in his jaw evident through the flex of the tendons in his neck, his pulse throbbing beneath the runes.
Finally, he swallowed with an audible click, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

‘I-‘ he began. ‘Ah, if you’ll just… excuse me a moment.’ He placed the picture down on the coffee table, turned and walked straight out of the room.

Theo lowered the camera slowly to the table, his expression confused. ‘What-?’ He looked down at the photo and then back up at Hermione, something dawning behind his eyes as he did.

‘Shit.’

‘Theo,’ Hermione’s voice was small. ‘Should you go after him?’

Theo shook his head. ‘No. Just give him a minute. He’ll be okay.’ But he looked upset too.

Harry had stopped what he was doing, watching from the kitchen. ‘Everything okay, Mi?’ He called.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Theo answered for her, because Hermione couldn’t speak. Harry frowned, beginning to make his way around the island, but before he had the chance to take more than a step, Malfoy reappeared. If Theo also noticed his red-rimmed eyes, he didn’t mention it, and neither did Hermione.

‘Sorry,’ Malfoy didn’t look at either of them. ‘Sorry. Just needed the loo.’ Hermione stared mutely at his profile, her fingers twisting in the material of her dress, but Theo nodded, clapping him gently on the back and giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze that Hermione felt conveyed much more than he was saying out loud. ‘Alright, mate,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll just get back to Harry.’

Draco stood for a moment, his hands in his pockets, blonde head bowed, nudging at the edge of Theo’s cream rug with his socked toe. It seemed to be with great effort that he finally lifted his eyes to look at her. Despite saying that morning that he was doing better, Hermione saw the depth of pain that remained in the stormy grey, dark and profound, seeming to catch him by surprise when he least expected it. Grief had a way of doing that, she knew.

He finally gave her a stiff sort of smile and then moved to sit next to her on the sofa. Hermione noticed that he didn’t look at the photo still lying on the coffee table, his eyes remaining firmly averted. She desperately wished she could swipe it under the sofa, or shove it under the photo album, anything so that Malfoy didn’t have to see it again.

‘Can I take her?’ He reached for Aurora, and Hermione could tell that he needed to hold his baby. She handed Aurora back and he sighed, holding her tightly to his chest. Their contact-comfort was still going strong, Hermione saw.
She was still trying to think of what to say when the silence was suddenly broken by a string of loud, vibrant swear words erupting from the general direction of the kitchen area.

Harry was bent over the oven, holding the door open as a cloud of black smoke streamed out into his face, dispersing into the room. Theo stood next to him, coughing and waving away the plume. He pointed his wand at the fire alarm on the ceiling, silencing it as it immediately began to wail.

‘Bloody, buggering, wanking FUCK.’ Harry groaned. ‘I got distracted.’

The wicked smile Theo flashed from his side was utterly devoid of remorse.

‘Wait,’ Hermione said, rising to stand, unutterably glad for the distraction. ‘Are you telling me we’ve gone from having completely raw chicken for dinner, to having completely burnt chicken for dinner?’

Harry didn’t need to reply, they could all see for themselves as he flicked his wand and levitated a charred, blackened shape out of the oven, dropping the smoking oven tray onto the countertop. He and Theo looked at it sadly for a moment before Theo snorted, a huff of uncontrollable laughter bursting from his nose. Harry stared at him for only a beat before losing it too, and for the next few minutes the two of them were almost bent double with laughter, Harry lifting his glasses to wipe at his eyes and swearing again softly.

From their place on the sofa, Hermione and Malfoy couldn’t help joining in, the absolute ridiculousness of the failed meal the perfect antidote to the heaviness of the minutes before.

‘For fucks sake,’ Malfoy muttered under his breath. ‘Not even the bloody saviour of the wizarding world could salvage this shit show of a dinner.’ Hermione laughed, relieved that the tension was broken.

‘Bollocks to it,’ Theo said eventually, his chest still hitching with errant bouts of laughter. ‘Let’s just admit we’re crap and order a takeaway.’

‘We should have asked Granger to help. She’s good at everything.’ Malfoy said, and the incredulous look of indignation on Harry’s face immediately set Hermione off again. If they thought she was any better than Theo, then they still had a lot to learn.

And so, an hour later, they sat at the glass dining table, pulling the foil carton tops off what appeared to be enough Chinese food for fifty people. Malfoy, who had been in charge of ordering, simply shrugged when Hermione quizzed him on the sheer volume of it. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked,’ he said. ‘I thought if I ordered one of everything, then you’d definitely find something you wanted.’

‘Why didn’t you just ask me?’ Hermione asked, and he cocked his head, looking even more confused. ‘Granger,’ he drawled. ‘I live with Theo. I can guarantee you, none of this food will go to waste.’

The meal was relaxed and informal, despite Theo’s insistence on laying the table ‘properly.’ His Pureblood sensibilities soon made themselves known in the gold placemats and chunky cutlery he laid out lovingly. Harry raised his eyebrows at the cloth napkins, rolled and secured with thick gold metal rings. Hermione didn't have a clue which fork to use, waiting until Theo and Malfoy had picked theirs up before lifting her own, side-eying Harry and noticing him do the same.

She wasn’t particularly hungry, still overloaded by the emotions of the day and so Hermione just picked at some stir fried broccoli and a few noodles, feeling warm and pleasantly relaxed as she sat back and sipped at her wine, marvelling at the easy back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, their mutual teasing remaining good-natured, the conversation flowing naturally.

She noticed Theo covertly studying Harry as he ate, his blue eyes glittering, a small, secretive smile curving his lips. Inevitably, every few minutes, Harry’s own eyes found their way back to Theo too, their gazes repeatedly connecting and holding over the rims of their glasses. The two men constantly found reasons to touch, their fingers brushing with every ‘pass the sweet and sour,’ or ‘another Spring roll, Potter?’ Malfoy had clearly noticed too, his expression softening as he watched them. Hermione thought he probably saw what she did - Theo and Harry were perfect for each other.

Malfoy had been severely mistaken when he’d assumed Aurora would give him time to eat. She’d woken almost the second he sat at the table and now sat propped on his thigh, her dad’s forearm banded around her tummy, grinning gummily at Theo who only occasionally paused eye-fucking Harry long enough to pull faces at her while Malfoy jiggled her on his knee and picked at his dinner, swearing under his breath when he inadvertently dropped a beansprout onto her head.

He left to try and put her into her Moses basket, stopping when he was accosted by Theo, who demanded bedtime kisses and cuddles beforehand. Hermione didn’t miss the thunderstruck look on Harry’s face as he watched Theo with the baby and smiled to herself. He was clearly so gone, and it was adorable.

Her phone buzzed again in her pocket, and Hermione pulled it out, her lips thinning as she opened the messages she’d received over the course of the night.

HI, GORGEOUS, HOW ARE YOU? The first one read.

She opened the next. LOOKING FORWARD TO TOMORROW NIGHT. WEAR SOMETHING NICE. I’M PLANNING ON SPOILING YOU.

Hermione swallowed heavily, something like guilt trickling through her veins. Her fingers hovered over the buttons for a moment as she debated her response, typing and then deleting a few different sentences. Eventually, she closed the message with a sigh, promising herself she’d reply later, when her head was a little clearer.

By the time Malfoy returned ten minutes later, they’d moved to the sofas. Hermione sat with her feet in Harry’s lap, giggling as she listened to him tell one of her favourite stories about his first week as an Auror and a ridiculous case he was given involving a missing person that turned out to actually be an old lady's cat.
‘How was I supposed to know ‘Barry’ wasn’t an actual person?’ Harry sniggered. ‘She called him in as a missing persons case. When she was describing him, I just thought he was a particularly hairy, ginger-haired man.’

‘Are we talking about Weasley?’ Malfoy asked, dropping several bags of sweets onto the table and collapsing heavily beside Theo onto the sofa. ‘Dessert, anyone?

There was an immediate scramble for the Percy Pigs, Theo swearing loudly as Harry wandlessly Accioed the last one from his fingers just as he was about to put it in his mouth. ‘I’d be furious if that wasn’t so bloody sexy, Potter.’ He murmured, and Harry’s face heated.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, leaning forward to take a lolly. As he did, the sleeve of his hoodie rode up slightly. Hermione cringed as Harry’s eyes honed in on the small, reddened patch of skin visible at his wrist. The slashes of the D were puffy and swollen, possibly looking even more inflamed than earlier that morning.

The indulgent grin fell from Harry’s face, the atmosphere instantly sobering as his eyes remained fixed on Malfoy’s arm for a painful few seconds before moving up to his face with a slight lift of his chin.

‘We…should talk.’ He said gruffly, and Malfoy nodded, rubbing a hand over his jaw, the taut lines of stress she remembered from the hospital making an unwelcome reappearance around his eyes.

‘We should.’

‘Theo,’ Hermione jumped up. ‘Do you want to help me clear up?’

Theo followed behind her as they moved to the kitchen area, his eyes flinty. Malfoy cast another monitoring spell on Aurora, his wand glowing as he motioned for Harry to follow him and the two men slipped out onto the balcony, their silhouettes lit up by the glowing blue lights of the pool.

Hermione was silent, methodically wiping the marble tops, needing the distraction.

‘I can’t believe I finally snogged Harry fucking Potter.’ Theo breathed at her side.

She turned, smiling at the dreamy expression on his face.

Theo caught her looking and shook his head.
‘Quick, slap me, Granger’. He put down the tea towel he’d been holding and pointed to his cheek, turning his face to the side. ‘I need to check it’s real and not just another one of my dirty dreams…Actually,’ he backtracked almost immediately, seeming to think better of it. ‘Please don’t, Malfoy said you’re stronger than you look. Supposedly, those little paws are deadly weapons.’

Hermione laughed. ‘I would never slap you, Theo. You’re too pretty.’

He smirked, glancing back outside where Malfoy and Harry remained.

‘Do you think they’re alright out there? Why is Harry gesturing like that?’

‘They have a lot to discuss.’ Hermione reminded him. ‘I know Harry wants to update Draco on the Greengrasses too.’

‘I just hope nothing is said to set him back, that’s all.’ He murmured. ‘We worked so hard to hold on to him after that day in the funeral home and all the shit that happened. Then he got this idea about your scar and, with Malfoy, there’s no telling him if he decides something. He really felt like it was the only way to show you that he’d changed, and I know how glad he is that you don’t hate him for it. I want him to be able to move forward, to keep getting stronger, not fall back to where we were three months ago.’

‘I don’t think you need to worry,’ Hermione said gently. ‘I actually think Harry understands Draco better than any of us realise.’

Theo nodded, his eyes taking on that faraway look again, the one Hermione was beginning to recognise well.

He turned to her. ‘He’s… a good person, isn’t he, Harry? A good friend, a good man.’

‘The best,’ Hermione smiled. ‘I think you make a great match.’

Theo groaned again, a distressed look suddenly crossing his face. ‘This all just feels… I don’t fucking know... I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted him for so long. But I never thought he’d reciprocate, I didn’t even know he was gay. But now he’s here, and he’s kissing me and flirting with me, and… fuck, now it’s actually happening, I think I’m actually a bit bloody terrified. I don’t know what he wants, what he’s thinking…’

‘Theo,’ Hermione said. ‘I think he made what he wants pretty clear, don’t you? You both have. It seems pretty mutual.’

Theo’s mouth twisted. ‘Anyone can want that, Hermione. I can do that with anyone. But I don’t know if I can just do it with Potter without needing more.’ Hermione was speechless, surprised by Theo’s sweet vulnerability. ‘I asked around, after I last saw him,’ he continued. ‘And the general consensus is, he’s a huge fucking slut. I can’t… I don’t want to just be another one of the Chosen One’s fuck buddies, I…’ Theo’s mouth snapped shut as the glass door suddenly slid open and Harry stepped inside, his hair windswept, his cheeks pink from the cold.

‘Salazar,’ Theo muttered under his breath. ‘Actually, forget what I said. He can use me for anything.’

Malfoy stepped in behind him, and Hermione could see the tension in both of their faces, Malfoy’s jaw was set, a muscle ticking there, and Harry’s green eyes were harder than usual, but they both smiled as they headed to the kitchen, and Hermione let herself relax a little.

‘Everything okay?’ Malfoy asked, and Hermione couldn’t help but turn to Theo, who looked as emotionally sucker punched as she felt.

‘All good.’ He replied weakly. ‘Everything’s great.’

‘It’s getting late.’ Regret laced Harry’s tone as he looked at his watch. ‘I’ll have to head off.’

‘I’ll walk you out.’ Theo squeezed Hermione’s hand under the countertop before heading out towards Harry.

Harry paused. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby, Mi?’ She gave him a thumbs up, glad she’d have a minute to talk to Malfoy. ‘I’ll see you in a sec.’

Theo waited while Harry found his Auror robes and put them back on, his eyes darkening appreciatively, and then he pulled Harry by the hand, leading him out towards the elevator. ‘Thanks for dinner, Malfoy.’ Harry called on his way out, his voice suddenly muffled by what Hermione could only assume was Theo’s mouth.

Hermione and Malfoy were alone.

He turned tired eyes to hers. ‘Are you alright?’ He stepped closer. ‘I know today has been a lot.’

‘My scar is hurting you.’ Hermione blurted, needing to let out the niggling worry she’d had since she’d glimpsed it earlier.

Malfoy’s face instantly closed, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. ‘It’s fine, Granger. It’s just fresh, that’s all.’ He insisted. ‘I’m more than used to dealing with scars. I said the same bloody thing to Potter. Please don’t start worrying about it.’ He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I don’t want to… I really hoped things were…’

‘I’m not going to be able to accept what you did as easily as you want me to, Draco. It’s not as simple as that.’

He sighed, looking resigned. ‘I know.’

‘I can’t explain… it took a lot for me to get used to actually having it, and now it’s gone and you’re wearing it. I don’t want it to hurt you. I understand your reasons, but it’s been a part of me for so long. I’m confused about how I feel, and-‘

‘I’m sorry.’ He said, reaching for her, catching hold of her fingers and twining them with his. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset, Granger, that’s the last thing I want.’

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry. ‘I’m alright.’

Malfoy shot her a sceptical look. Clearly she absolutely was not.

‘I will be.’ Hermione conceded. ‘Just… Draco, will you at least let me heal you? Only a little. It won’t take much. I’m a highly trained mediwitch. I can make it less inflamed, take away any infection…’ Malfoy was already shaking his head, and Hermione groaned with frustration. She’d known he’d say no. This godsdamn man - he bloody wanted it to hurt. It was all part of his self-imposed reparations mission.

‘It’s not infected.’ He shrugged, dropping her hand. ‘And it doesn’t hurt.’

Hermione frowned up at him, irritatedly blowing a loose curl out of her face. ‘I know that’s not true.’

‘You look cute when you’re cross, you know.’ Hermione twitched at the obvious distraction technique, ashamed at the way her stomach flipped when she looked up and found him smiling at her.

‘WHAT?’ She spluttered. ‘Draco, you can’t say that…it’s not…’ but he was laughing, the sound vibrating low in his chest. She swatted at him, her palm glancing off the hard muscle of his shoulder.

‘Oi!’ He grinned. ‘You don’t always have to immediately resort to violence as a means of expressing yourself, Granger. Potter was right when he said you were scary.’

‘Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet, Malfoy. I work in a public hospital - I’m hard as nails.’

He laughed even harder. ‘I believe it. Stop pouting, will you, and just give me a hug.’ He reached out, sliding a hand around Hermione’s shoulders. ‘It’s been a fucking mental day and I think we both really need one.’

Hermione should have put up more of a fight, but she was tired and his arms felt good as they tightened around her - warm and strong and safe. She sagged against his chest, breathing in Malfoy’s cologne and feeling his heart beat steadily against her cheek as she let her own hands encircle his waist. After a moment, he dipped his head, pressing his face into her hair in the same way he did with his daughter and inhaling deeply. Hermione closed her eyes, very much needing him to not do that.

She didn’t like the nagging awareness that was slowly forming in the back of her mind, the awful feeling of something blooming in her chest that shouldn’t be.

Eventually, Malfoy released her and stood back, yawning. He stretched, and Hermione looked away quickly from the glimpse of pale skin and curling vines.

‘Are you working tomorrow?’

Hermione grimaced. ‘Yes, I have a twelve-hour shift. I’m covering for Ernie.’

‘Urgh,’ he scowled at the mention of her colleague. ‘Well, Aurora and I could come and meet you for lunch, maybe? I’ll bring something.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ Hermione replied. ‘But I’ll bring the lunch. I make a great sandwich, actually.’

He smiled at that, and Hermione realised with dismay that the eye-crinkle was beginning to become a thing for her. Malfoy was so rarely truly unguarded that his real smile felt like something precious, a gift bestowed upon her - fragile - like a butterfly landing on your arm, there for a moment and then gone, fleeting and beautiful.

‘Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow.’ He fetched her coat and then waited at the door.

Hermione looked up at him. ‘Goodnight, Draco.’ She said softly. ‘Thanks for dinner.’

‘Night, Granger. Good luck extracting Potter from Theo’s clutches. Return Nott to me, if you can.’

Hermione laughed as Malfoy finally dragged his eyes away, giving her a small wave and turning to head back inside. It was only as she glanced down that Hermione saw the Polaroid - the photo of her and Aurora, sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans.

Chapter Text

Hermione - once again absolutely blindsided by Draco Malfoy - lingered in the quiet of the hallway for a moment after the penthouse door closed, gathering her wits. 

Had it really only been that morning that she’d woken up and discovered her scar had disappeared? 

She felt as though she’d spent the day in the eye of a Malfoy-shaped storm, tumbled around, battered by every possible emotion on the human spectrum and then deposited back to the ground from a height. 

Now she was left in the aftermath, confused and disoriented, aching for something that she couldn’t even bring herself to identify. 

Her picture was in his pocket. 

Why?

Hermione grimaced as she felt her phone vibrate against her hip for the third time that night. She fished it out and unlocked it, opening the newest message.

I HOPE EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND WE’RE STILL ON FOR TOMORROW? MY PORTKEY ACTIVATES AT SEVEN, SO I’LL PICK YOU UP AT EIGHT. 

The instinct to just make an excuse and be done with it was strong, but then Hermione thought about her recent promise to herself, and before she could change her mind, she hit reply and typed. 

Sounds good. See you at eight.

She debated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keys, before she added, 

Looking forward to it.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she slid her thumb to rest on the SEND button, suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of trepidation. 

But just yesterday, she had been looking forward to this date, hadn’t she? Yes, she’d been nervous, slightly unsure if she wanted to go there again, but the first date had been good, the best she’d had in years. What possible reason did she have for not going on a second? 

Hermione had made a vow to herself during her period of self-reflection that she’d stop being so closed off, that she’d try and give dating a real go. A second date was just that - dinner and a drink, she told herself. It didn’t have to lead to a third if she didn’t want it to. 

With a determined exhale, she jabbed her finger on the SEND  button and shoved her phone back into her pocket, making her way down the thickly carpeted hallway. 

On the approach to the elevator, Hermione paused. She’d heard a sound - a sort of whimper. She cocked her head, listening. Now she could hear more - low, fervent whispering, rustling, and was that…panting? 

‘Harry?’ She called, closing her eyes. ‘I’m not going to bust you again. I’m going to keep my eyes shut and give you a moment. But, do I need to leave?’ 

She heard a muffled snort of laughter, coming from just around the corner, behind the glass elevator. 

Theo.

‘Harry?’ She called again. ‘Theo?’

More frantic rustling from around the corner, followed by Harry’s disembodied voice, sounding very unlike him - sort of breathy and hoarse. ‘No, you’re alright, Mi… just one… just give us one sec.’ She heard another stifled groan, a muted ‘fuck’, and then a silencing charm was cast, a thick blanket of quiet falling over the hallway.

‘I’m just going to go,’ Hermione called, her eyes squeezed tight. ‘It’s fine-‘ but a moment later the charm dropped and both Harry and Theo appeared, stepping around the corner at the same time, looking equally as dishevelled and sweaty. 

Theo’s shirt was untucked, the bottom few buttons undone, revealing a peek of tanned abdomen. His lips were puffy, his jaw scarlet with stubble burn. He looked almost drugged, blue eyes unfocused as he slumped against the wall, a dopey grin on his face. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, turning to let her gaze travel up and down the rumpled form of Auror Harry Potter. His hair was positively wild, his glasses askew. Hermione only noticed how heavily he was breathing at the same time that her eyes snagged elsewhere, and she gasped - ‘Oh! Harry!’ 

Harry’s eyes widened, his hands flying down to his crotch as he muttered a surreptitious notice-me-not. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered apologetically, a flush creeping up and along his neck. ‘That’s not… I didn’t mean for you to...’

Behind him, Theo smirked, looking exceedingly pleased with himself, but Hermione hadn’t missed the fact that he had his own notice-me-not firmly in place. 

‘It’s fine,’ she replied, averting her eyes and trying to sound breezier than she felt. ‘Don’t worry, it’s just.. biology isn’t it. It’s a perfectly normal physiological reaction when you find someone attractive, n-nothing to be embarrassed about, of course.’ Hermione was aware she was rambling, actually fearing that she might just carry on babbling indefinitely until Theo burst out laughing. 

‘You’re right, Granger,’ he drawled. ‘It’s just biology. Certain physical responses can’t be helped when you find someone mind-blowingly attractive.’ He held Harry’s eye meaningfully, raising an eyebrow of his own. 

Harry was almost puce, his mouth trying its best to smile even as he fought to remain stoic. 

‘Shall we go, then?’ Hermione suggested, not feeling remotely hopeful. Harry didn’t appear to have heard her, having gainfully entered back into a staring contest with Theo. 

‘Harry?’ This time she was louder. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. This is ridiculous, I can walk home by myself.’

‘No!’ Harry winced a little at the impatience in her tone. Hermione hadn’t meant to sound that way, but she was tired and emotional, and she was more than ready to go home and overthink in peace. ‘Let’s go. Sorry, Mi.’  He turned back to Theo, suddenly inexplicably shy. ‘Can I call you? Tomorrow, maybe?’ 

Theo responded in kind, his smile lighting up his whole face. ‘I’d like that, Potter, yeah. Definitely.’ 

‘Okay then, I will.’ Harry stepped away, then back again, throwing a glance at Hermione before leaning in to press his lips against Theo’s, quickly and chastely. Theo’s eyes fluttered closed, and Harry clenched his jaw, slowly turning away. Hermione saw the effort it took for him to take the first step to begin walking towards her. 

‘Bye, Nott.’

‘Night, Theo.’ Hermione called.

Theo remained slumped against the wall, his eyes heavy-lidded, watching them as Harry reluctantly stepped with Hermione into the elevator.

Hermione waited for Harry to command it, hoping he had figured out the correct way to coerce the lift into a smooth ride. 

‘Harry.’

Theo’s voice was quiet, but Harry didn’t hesitate. 

‘Sorry, Mi, just one sec.’ He whirled around and stepped out of the lift, striding purposefully back down the hallway towards Theo and shoving him against the wall. Harry used one hand to cup Theo’s jaw, the other coming up to fist in the curling flicks of hair at the nape of his neck. He thrust his thigh back between Theo’s legs and kissed him, desperately, as though those few minutes when he hadn’t been were too much. 

Theo let out a positively indecent sound in response, grasping at the collar of Harry’s Auror robes and yanking him even closer. 

‘Okay,’ Hermione called, throwing her hands up in submission. ‘I’m waiting in the lobby. I’ll see you down there.’

She fervently wished she hadn’t had so much wine and could just Apparate home, but alas, it was just Hermione versus the lift. 

‘Can you take me…at a reasonable pace… to the ground floor?’ She asked tentatively, holding her breath as the doors slid smoothly shut and…nothing happened. Hermione waited for a moment longer, huffing with impatience, before realisation dawned. 
‘Oh,’ she muttered. ‘Please.’  
With a satisfied ‘Ding!’ the lift obliged, and a moment later Hermione was deposited gracefully back into the lobby. She headed straight for the nearest sofa and collapsed into it, certain she was in for rather a long wait. 

In actuality, only five or so minutes had passed before Harry appeared, falling out of the lift and looking just as flustered and frustrated as Hermione had left him. He shuffled towards her, and Hermione wondered how one man could look so crushingly disappointed and yet so hopeful at the same time. 

‘Alright?’ She asked, and he nodded, running a hand roughly through his hair. 

‘Sorry for making you wait.’ He dropped onto the sofa and tipped his head back, whipping off his glasses before covering his face with his hands and groaning loudly into them. From his place at the door, Jason looked over, concerned. 

‘We’re fine, Jason.’ Hermione called. ‘Don’t worry.’ 

Harry paused his groaning to peek out between his fingers, frowning confusedly. ‘Jason?’ 

Hermione shrugged. ‘The doorman. We’re on a first-name basis now.’  

‘Oh. Right.’ Harry closed his eyes and resumed his meltdown. 

‘Harry, are you okay?’ 

Harry moved his hands away, turning to look at her, his expression solemn. ‘No, love. I don’t think I am. Nott has scrambled my brain. Kissed me until I couldn’t walk and then just… left me. Waltzed back into his apartment, told me to ‘call him’ and then shut the door in my bloody face.’

Hermione smiled, smoothing down Harry’s rumpled collar affectionately. ‘Who would have thought it?’ She murmured. ‘Theodore Nott, a Slytherin, finally being the one to get under Harry Potter’s skin.’

Harry closed his eyes. ‘I’m fucked, Mi.’ He muttered miserably. ‘Absolutely fucked.’

Ten minutes later, when Harry had gathered his faculties enough to stand, they left Theo’s building.

‘Night, Jason,’ Hermione waved, and he grinned, tipping his hat respectfully. 

‘Goodnight, Miss Granger, Mr Potter. Good to see you.’ 

It was chilly outside, and despite it being nearly the end of March, warming charms were necessary as they descended the marble steps of Hebridean Heights and began the short walk home. Both Harry and Hermione glanced up at the Penthouse, but the windows were mostly dark, no one visible from the street below. They walked arm in arm, silent for the first five minutes until Harry turned to her, his voice gentle.

‘I’m really sorry about tonight.’

Hermione turned to peer up at him. ‘What do you mean?’ 

Harry looked shamefaced, seemingly regaining his senses a little now that he was further away from Theo. ‘I’ve been selfish, I didn’t check in on you enough. How are you feeling now? Did you manage to talk to Malfoy about everything?’

Hermione shrugged. ‘We did talk, but ... He’s insisting the scar doesn’t hurt him when I can tell that it does, and that bothers me immensely. What did he say when you took him outside? You both looked a little tense when you came in.’

Harry sighed. ‘He told me what he told you, I guess. That he had to do it, that he has a lot of regrets about his past and that he’s pleased to wear the scar in your place. In his own weird way, he made it make sense, you know? I understand his guilt, his need to take responsibility.’

‘But it’s hurting him, Harry. You saw that, right?’

Harry’s mouth twisted. ‘I only saw a glimpse, but yeah, it looked pretty nasty. He didn’t seem like it bothered him, though.’ He turned to look at her as he continued. ‘He seems to have pretty strong feelings regarding you in general, actually, Mi.’

Hermione deliberately kept her gaze trained on the ground as she asked, ‘How so?’ 

‘Basically, Malfoy seems to think the sun absolutely shines out of your arse. He banged on for a solid ten minutes about all the things you’d done for him, how you helped him with Aurora, how selfless you are, how kind, how intelligent.’ 

Hermione couldn’t quite take in a full breath. She felt a bit dizzy, wishing again that she hadn’t drunk quite so much wine.

‘I put him straight, obviously.’ Harry said, nudging her gently and grinning. ‘Said he’d soon find out you were just a tiny, bossy pain in the bum.’

Hermione laughed and shoved him a little with her elbow, sending an unsuspecting Harry stumbling into a lamppost.

‘Thanks a lot, Harry, and to think I had your back when Theo asked about you.’

Now it was Harry’s turn to flounder. He turned wide green eyes to hers, his expression suddenly serious, but he didn’t ask her to elaborate. They walked silently again, each lost in their own thoughts. 

Hermione couldn’t stop going back to what Harry had said about Malfoy. 

He always credited her for so much regarding Aurora, and yet seemed determined to ignore his own successes - Theo had said as much when he came to visit her that day.  
Draco was growing in confidence as a single father. She could see it in the patient and competent way he dealt with Aurora’s needs and in the beautiful relationship reflected through the Polaroid pictures.  
His daughter adored him, she was healthy and happy, everything Hermione had hoped for when she’d given her vote of confidence in the hospital all those months ago. Aurora was thriving, and that had nothing to do with Hermione but everything to do with Malfoy and his unwavering devotion to his daughter. 

But… despite all of those things, Hermione couldn’t deny that some of Draco’s behaviours were concerning. 

Finding a way to take her scar had required powerful magic, but it had also required time and energy, two things she knew were in short supply when doting upon a small baby. Hermione had a horrible feeling that he’d spent the past few months running off adrenaline, trying to find peace in redemption rather than dealing with his grief. 

Finding a distraction was a common coping method, especially finding one that made you feel good. It wasn’t necessarily wrong, but Hermione was worried that his insistence on making himself hurt ran deeper even than the reasons he’d given her that morning. He’d spoken many times about his guilt surrounding Astoria and his absence during her time of need. Combine that with his visceral reaction to the Polaroid, and Draco’s behaviour was worryingly close to self-flagellation. 

He was choosing not to Occlude, but instead, he was hurting himself physically as a way to dull the pain he felt emotionally. 

Hermione bit back tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day. 

Malfoy needed more time with a Mind Healer, that much was clear, but she also knew, instinctively, that he would never be completely honest with a stranger, especially not one foisted upon him by the Ministry. He seemed determined to always pretend he was coping, to only show the pain that overflowed before he could rein himself in, even with his closest friends. If she was the queen of ‘I’m fine,’ then he was almost certainly the king. 

Hermione thought about what Theo had said the day of Aurora’s birth. Malfoy had never told any of them exactly what had happened to him during his time as a Death Eater, nor discussed what he’d endured in Azkaban. He’d only told Astoria, and he’d insinuated that it was because he felt like she was stuck with him, that she couldn’t leave him even if she wanted to. But Hermione knew how Astoria had called for Draco in her final moments, had studied Astoria’s expression in her photograph, the way she’d smiled past the camera at the person taking the shot. 

She didn’t look like a woman under duress. Astoria had loved Malfoy, deeply, and Hermione thought she could understand why. 

Three months ago, he hadn’t been ready to talk, he’d pushed her away, believing that he was protecting her. But now, he seemed to want Hermione in his life as much as she, inexplicably, wanted to be there. She could only hope that over time, as someone separate from his group of ever-loyal friends, Hermione could somehow enable him to see that he was no longer as tainted as he seemed to believe, that he was a good father, and a good man. Malfoy deserved peace and happiness as much as anyone else. 

‘Mione?’ Harry was looking at her again. ‘You sure you’re alright?’ 

She lifted Harry’s arm and snuggled underneath it, needing the familiar comfort of her best friend. ‘I’m fine,’ she murmured, laughing quietly to herself at the irony. Harry’s eyebrows pulled together, and he tightened his arm, running his thumb over the cap of her shoulder through her coat. 

‘Are you… still going on your date tomorrow?’ 

‘Yes,’ Hermione swallowed her reticence. ‘I’m going to go.’ 

‘Good,’ Harry said, and she heard a tinge of relief in his tone. ‘I think you should. I know I joke around, but Malfoy was right. You deserve happiness. You deserve the world.’ 

She turned to look up at him, startled. As often happened during their years of friendship, it was as though Harry had been reading her mind. He knew her better than anyone, and so he’d know her head and her heart weren’t in it. She knew what he was doing, saw the way he was trying to protect her by steering her in the most straightforward direction. Hermione sighed. She appreciated and loved Harry for wanting the best for her, she just wasn’t quite convinced that she was going to find everything she’d been looking for on tomorrow night’s date. 

When they got back to the flat, Hermione was surprised to find an owl waiting at the window, pecking impatiently to be let inside. She immediately recognised the insignia on its harness as being the one for St Mungo’s and ran to the window, casting a warming charm around the old bird and feeding him some cubed cheese as she removed the scroll from his outstretched leg. 

‘Oh my darling,’ she crooned, stroking over the owl's soft feathers. ‘How long have you been waiting out there in the cold?’ 

As she unfurled the parchment, Hermione gasped, a sudden wave of nausea rolling over her. 

It had been months since Hermione had put forward her application for a healing research grant, an opportunity that rarely came up within St Mungo’s and was highly sought after.  
If successful in securing the grant, candidates would be given time and money to research and trial new treatment plans, potentially with an opportunity for further roll-out depending on their success. There were only two or three spots given out every few years, and the offer went out hospital-wide to all medical staff with enough qualifications to deem them eligible.  
As Chief Mediwitch for the Neonatal department, Hermione had known she was eligible to qualify, but competition was fierce and there were plenty of other Healers in her position throughout St Mungo’s. Just to be considered was an honour, and if she could produce results, it would be a huge addition to her CV, another step closer to achieving her goal of becoming Chief Healer one day. 

Harry had come to read over her shoulder, and he swore softly as he read the parchment ‘Oh shit,’ he muttered. ‘Is that good?’

‘I have no idea.’ Hermione read the letter again. ‘I can’t tell anything from this.’

‘Well, don't panic,’ Harry said, although he knew she definitely would. ‘Go in tomorrow and see what Jennings says. I bet it’s good news. You worked hard on that application.’

Hermione nodded, her stomach churning as she read the short note over and over, searching for a hidden meaning that just wasn’t there. 

‘We’ll see, I suppose. Nothing I can do now but wait.’ 

She kissed Harry on the cheek, handing him his phone from the kitchen counter where it had lit up several times since they’d arrived home. He opened his messages, green eyes going wide and then immediately darkening, his pupils visibly expanding as he read. He turned the screen away, covering it with his hand as a slow smile tugged the corners of his mouth. 

‘I’m- I’m going to head to bed.’ He whispered, his voice cracking a little. 

‘Sure,’ Hermione replied. ‘See you in the morning. Say hi to Theo for me.’

Harry grinned, already typing a reply as he made his way to his bedroom. He was so caught up in his phone that he walked straight into the door frame, stumbling and grabbing at his big toe with a muttered ’bollocks,’ but still not looking up from the screen as he hopped inside and slammed the door. 

Hermione got ready for bed slowly, knowing already that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She climbed under her duvet and pulled it over her head, her mind swirling as she ran her fingers down the soft skin of her inner arm, ruminating over the events of the day and worrying about what tomorrow might bring. 

On the nightstand, her phone vibrated with yet another text message. She rolled her eyes, fully planning to ignore it. But as she reached over to turn the phone off, she realised she didn’t recognise the number that had flashed up on the screen. She unlocked it to see the newest message.

Please tell me Potter managed to get you home safe? Also, I think he might have broken Theo. The man is a horny, dribbling mess. D

Hermione smiled, quickly typing out her reply. 

Yes, all home safe. Harry isn't faring much better. I had a lovely night, Draco. Thank you X

He replied instantly,

I did too. Aurora is asking what time we can come and see you tomorrow? D

Tell her my lunch break starts at one. I’ll meet you at the entrance to the hospital. What’s your favourite sandwich filling? X

She waited, a little frisson of anticipation lancing through her when her phone lit up again a moment later. 

If you make it, I’ll like it. Surprise me.

Still smiling, Hermione curled onto her side, clutching her phone in one hand. She’d almost fallen asleep when it vibrated again on her pillow.

X

She looked at the single letter for a long time. Something fluttering behind her ribcage that she chose to ignore. After a few minutes, Hermione pressed the reply button and typed her own single-letter response.

X

It was a long time before she drifted off again, and when she did, Hermione dreamed of Astoria. She dreamed of Malfoy and Aurora, a beautiful family that had never been given the chance to be whole. She saw herself, standing in the operating theatre as she watched a desperate mother resist the fading light in her eyes, reaching towards the baby she’d fought so hard to protect. This time, when  Astoria cried out for Draco, butterflies flew from her mouth, filling the room until they were all Hermione could see. 

‘Come in.’

Hermione pushed her way into Chief Healer Jennings’ office the next morning on shaky legs. She hoped that the glamours she wore were enough to hide the bags under her eyes, that the calming draft she’d taken along with her Pepperup at breakfast was enough to disguise her ever spiralling nerves. 

‘Hermione, you’re perfectly on time, of course. Please, sit down.’ 

Hermione sat, placing her hands in her lap and crossing her legs. She schooled her expression into something neutral, waiting with bated breath. 

‘No need to look so worried, dear,’ Healer Jennings said, smiling fondly. ‘I won’t keep you in suspense. This meeting is to let you know that your application has been successful in the first round. This year’s applicants were particularly strong, but we have narrowed the potential candidates down to just two of you, both from the Neonatal department, which is unusual. You will be given a month to plan your research and objectives before you are both required to give a presentation. As long as what you present is deemed viable by the board of directors, you will receive the funding. In six months, we will review the success of both projects before deciding which will be taken on by the hospital and potentially rolled out further. It does mean that you’ll be off the ward more than usual, but Danielle Saidi will fill in for you as Chief Mediwitch when you aren’t here. As you know, Hermione, this is a significant opportunity. I’m certain you will approach it with the dedication and determination you have shown in every aspect of your career so far.’

Hermione was stunned, not sure whether to be elated or terrified. She’d been selected, but so had one of her Neonatal colleagues. They would be in direct competition whilst working together every day. 

‘Thank you, Healer Jennings.’ She breathed. ‘Am I able to know who the other candidate is? Just so I can congratulate them?’ 

‘I have every faith in you, Hermione.’ Chief Healer Jennings smiled, and Hermione allowed herself a small moment to enjoy the little bubble of pride that swelled in her chest. ‘Unfortunately, the other candidate isn’t here today, so I’ll let him know via Floo call later this morning. The official announcement will be made as soon as he comes back to work.’ 

Hermione waited, but she knew the answer before Healer Jennings even said his name. There was only one other staff member with the same qualifications and experience as she had, even if she had beaten him to the position of Ward Manager the year before.

‘Of course.’ Jennings beamed. ‘Your schoolmate Mr MacMillan was the other successful candidate. Congratulations to you both.’

Malfoy was waiting for her when Hermione finally escaped the ward at ten past one. He stood at the foot of the front steps, tall and imposing in expensively cut Charcoal robes and a crisp white shirt, his back straight and shoulders squared.
He didn’t notice her at first, too busy warily examining the people walking past, grey eyes coolly assessing. There was a Protego shimmering over Aurora’s pram, but he didn’t need it, most people either knew who he was or were sufficiently intimidated by his demeanour to give him and Aurora a wide berth.  
A  group of young Mediwitches passed, whispering behind their hands and giggling covertly. One of them, a pretty brunette, lifted her head and attempted to send a coquettish smile in Malfoy’s direction. He didn’t acknowledge her, averting his gaze and turning back to the entrance with a frown. 

He finally caught sight of Hermione as she reached the main doors, and instantly his face changed, the frown transforming into a warm smile, grey eyes squinting against the sun as he lifted a hand to wave.

Hermione quickened her steps to meet him, her robes swishing around her feet. ‘Draco, hi,’ she breathed. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ She held up the bag of sandwiches and bottles of rootbeer she’d packed and indicated the direction of the green. ‘Shall we walk? I only have fifty minutes.’

He looked down at her for a moment, his eyes alight with something unidentifiable, one side of his mouth lifting. ‘Please, Granger, lead the way.’

Hermione felt the Protego shift, the cool shiver of Malfoy’s magic as it stretched to fit over the three of them. She didn’t mention the protection spell, didn’t need to ask him why it was there. Hermione knew exactly why. 

They left the hospital and walked slowly towards the green, their pace unhurried, the conversation easy. Malfoy asked Hermione how her day had been, and she filled him in on her meeting, excited to finally have someone to tell. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were on their second lap around the path. Malfoy pushed Aurora’s pram with one hand, gripping his half-eaten sandwich tightly in the other, a ferocious scowl darkening his features. 

‘Macmillian? Ernie fucking MacMillan? That wet fart is your competition for the grant?’

‘Yes,’ Hermione replied weakly. ‘He is.’ She held her own sandwich aloft, taking small nibbles as they walked. Aurora was awake in her pram, babbling contentedly and reaching up to grab onto her feet, seemingly determined to pull off both of her little white socks. Malfoy peered inside, rearranging her blanket and lifting her hat up from over her eyes, only for it to slip straight back down a moment later. 

‘It’s a shame that I’m going up against a colleague,’ Hermione continued. ‘But this could be a huge opportunity. If I plan my project well, I could potentially get funding for a whole new treatment plan or screening program. We’re woefully behind the Muggle world in terms of maternity care, and this could finally be my chance to make a real difference.’

‘Granger,’ Malfoy mumbled, swallowing down another huge bite of his sandwich. ‘I have every faith in you. You’re one of the most determined and intelligent people I’ve ever met. There’s no way that tosser even stands a chance.’ He paused for a beat. ‘Fuck me, this is incredible. What the hell did you put in here?’ He inspected the small bit he had left, pulling apart layers of salad, meat and cheese before wolfing it down in one bite. ‘I actually think that’s the best sandwich I’ve eaten in my entire life.’

Hermione laughed. ‘I highly doubt that, but thank you. Harry seems to like them.’

They came to the same bench she’d sat at with Theo three months before, and Hermione collapsed onto it, glad for an excuse to rest her legs, still feeling achy after her run the day before and a busy morning on the ward.

Malfoy dropped down next to her, tipping his face up to the sun and closing his eyes contentedly. Hermione did the same, the early spring rays pleasantly warm as a light breeze danced over her skin and tugged a few loose strands from her plait. 

‘What else do you two have planned today?’ She asked, stretching out languidly. 

Malfoy didn’t reply. Hermione opened her eyes to find him already looking at her, the sunlight hitting his face and making the grey of his irises appear silver, almost translucent. 

‘Draco?’ 

He blinked, dropping his gaze and shifting on the bench. ‘Hmm?’

Hermione noticed the edges of her scar peeking out of the end of his sleeve and frowned. It was even more puffy and angry-looking than it had been the day before. Malfoy moved his arm, surreptitiously pushing his sleeve back down, acting as though he hadn’t noticed her looking.

‘Do you have any plans?’ She asked again. ‘For the rest of the day?’

‘Oh. Uh, I’m meeting Blaise at his office after this, I’ve got a few things I want to move around and need to make sure it’s all done by the book. Then I’ve agreed to try this new bloody game Theo and Blaise are into later tonight. They want me to join their team. Blaise reckons it’s safer than Quidditch and a much shorter match, so I don’t have to leave Aurora for so long. Pans is going to come and watch so she can look after her next to the pitch tonight, I’m not ready to actually leave her yet.’

‘That sounds like it could be good for you.’ Hermione said. ‘Which game?’ 

‘Football, believe it or not.’ He muttered darkly. ‘Theo’s really into the red team, fancies some guy that used to play for them, David Beckingham or something.’ 

Hermione’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. She quickly blinked away the image of Malfoy in football shorts, filing it for later. ‘You’re - you’re going to play football? Muggle football?’

Malfoy gave her a wry smile. ‘Why do you sound so surprised?’

‘I’m not,’ she laughed as he appraised her suspiciously. ‘Really, I’m not. It just-‘ Hermione waved her arms around. ‘You know… football, Muggle music. It's just not what I expected, that’s all, what with you all coming from such traditional families.’ 

‘Granger,’ Malfoy’s expression looked pained. ‘Can’t you tell yet that none of us share any of the same views as our families did? Theo is gay, if his father hadn’t died in Azkaban, he would have been disowned immediately for refusing to accept a marriage bond. Blaise works pro-bono for Muggle-borns seeking compensation for their treatment during the war, suing for loss of education, loss of earnings, trauma and bereavement. And my father and I… we did not have a good relationship after what happened with Dumbledore. He…in his…in his note, he blamed me for my family’s problems, said I’d turned my mother against him. None of my friends give a shit about tradition. We all just want to move on from the war, finally have some choice in our own fucking lives.’ He took a shuddering breath, and Hermione saw the effort it took for him to swallow down the raw bitterness of his words. He closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them again there was a shift, a forced lightness in his demeanour. ‘Anyway, Wizarding Music is shit. Why wouldn’t I prefer the Muggle kind?’ 

Hermione laughed, although it was also a little shaky. ‘I’d have to agree with you there.’ She decided to run with the change of subject, sensing that Malfoy needed her to. ‘So I know you like soul and Motown, what else do you like?’ 

Appearing glad for the redirection, Malfoy immediately launched into a detailed list of all his favourite Muggle singers and bands, asking Hermione question after question about her own, and all too quickly the fifty minutes they had for lunch had disappeared. He walked her back towards the main doors slowly, like he wasn’t ready for it to end either. ‘What about you?’ He asked as they approached the entrance steps. ‘Do you have any plans for tonight?’ 

Hermione had no idea why she didn’t tell him. It wasn’t as though she thought he’d care, that he’d have any sort of opinion on her dating life. Malfoy was her friend, and only just that. Only a day ago, she’d resigned herself to never seeing him again after he’d told her to stay out of his life. The fact that he was now walking around with her scar slashed along the skin of his forearm didn’t mean he’d give a single shit about who she was dating.

But still, Hermione didn’t tell him.

‘Oh, not a lot.’ She murmured, not meeting his eye. ‘I think I might catch up with Luna later, maybe go for a drink to celebrate today’s news.’ 

’You should celebrate. Can… is it okay if we come and meet you again tomorrow? I think the fresh air has been good for Aurora.’ Hermione looked down to where the baby dozed peacefully in her pram, one sock clutched tightly in her tiny fist.

‘I’d love that,’ she replied, and she meant it. ‘I’ll text you when I know what time I get my break. Good luck with football training, I’m sure it will be great to try something new.’ 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘That remains to be seen, Granger. I have no real idea what football bloody even is, yet.’

She laughed. ‘You can fill me in tomorrow, then. Bye, Draco.’

Without thinking, as Hermione turned to leave, she did what she usually would with Harry, Dean and even Ron. She placed two hands on Malfoy’s shoulders, stretching up on her tiptoes to place a small, chaste kiss on his cheek. The action was unplanned and unconscious, the type of platonic kiss that Hermione didn’t even consider, she did it so often.  

But as her lips brushed his cheekbone, Malfoy stiffened, inhaling sharply and jerking incrementally backwards, so that her mouth met thin air.  
It was subtle, only the barest of movements, but there was no way Hermione had misinterpreted what had happened.  
He had pulled away from her. 

Malfoy stood frozen, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly as he swallowed, his eyes on hers. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closed it again.

Hermione was hideously embarrassed, her lips tingling accusingly where they’d momentarily connected with the warmth of his skin.  
She hadn’t even thought about it, would never have expected him to be so taken aback considering they’d hugged plenty of times before.  
Mortified, she turned and practically ran up the steps to the hospital. 

Malfoy was still at the base of the stairs when Hermione rounded the corner towards the ward. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around, but she could see him in her peripherals. 

He was just standing there, tall, blonde and statue-still, one hand clutching the handle of Aurora’s pram, the other held to his face, fingertips pressed to the place her lips had touched. 

The rest of Hermione’s shift passed slowly. For once, the ward was quiet, and she found herself becoming increasingly anxious and irritable, the urge to cancel her date and just get drunk instead growing with each passing hour. When it was finally time for her to leave, she passed over her only patient to Katie, explaining that the mother’s contractions had begun increasing in frequency and they were keeping an eye on her, monitoring the baby's heart rate before moving the family to the delivery suite. 

She Apparated home, realising that she only had an hour before she needed to be ready. She’d been told to wear something nice, so Hermione showered quickly, pinning her hair into a curly updo, and pulling out a few wisps to frame her face and neck, twisting them into spirals around her index finger. She chose a long-sleeved black velvet dress, split to the thigh, adding some delicate gold jewellery to accessorise. As she was finishing off her make up she heard Harry come in, shouting her name. 

‘Mi? You okay?’ He knocked and poked his head around her door. Hermione was sure he was checking to see if she was still going. ‘Wow. You look incredible,’ he said earnestly. ‘You always do, of course.’

Hermione smiled, slicking on another layer of mascara. ‘Thanks, love. How was work?’ 

‘Fucking mental. But I can’t stop, I’m meeting Seamus for a drink in an hour.’ 

‘Have you spoken to Theo today?’ 

Harry grinned. ‘I have. He’s doing something with Malfoy tonight, but we’re planning to meet up afterwards. I need to go and find something sexy to wear.’

Harry’s eyes shone with anticipation as he disappeared from the room, and Hermione sighed wistfully, wishing she felt as excited about her own prospects for the evening. She wasn’t even sure why she was so reluctant, other than the fact that since breaking up with Neville, she was always reluctant. However, as she’d said to Padma the week before, if she didn’t push herself, she was going to be alone forever. 

Doubling down, Hermione bent to fasten the high-heeled Louboutins she’d chosen for the evening. They were one of her favourite pairs, six-inch black strappy stilettos with a pointed heel and a thin gold chain that fastened delicately at her ankle. The doorbell rang, and she frowned, casting a Tempus. She still had ten minutes before pick-up time. 

‘Mione,’ Harry called from the hallway. ‘There’s a delivery for you. Come and see.’ 

Hermione quickly sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists and headed out into the hallway, gasping when she saw the huge bouquet of flowers Harry was wrangling in through the door. 

‘Bloody hell,’ he groaned. ‘He’s going all out, isn’t he? Flash git. I expect he’ll be taking you somewhere posh for dinner too. He’s got that international Portkey, remember.’ 

Hermione let her eyes drift over the flowers as Harry laid them on the kitchen counter. They were absolutely beautiful. A stunning mix of white and pink roses, interspersed with pink lilies, sprigs of gypsophila and large pink hydrangeas. They had been hand-tied, the bow knotted with pale pink silk ribbon. 

There was a card attached, and Hermione pulled it free, sliding the card from the envelope. 

She was still smiling when the doorbell rang, distracted by rereading the card, so that she didn't hear it ring immediately. 

‘Uh, Mi. Do you want me to get that?’ Harry asked, doing up the buttons of his own black shirt. 

‘No, it’s okay,’ Hermione replied. ‘I’m ready.’ She peered into the hallway mirror, rearranging the neckline of her dress and rubbing a bit of smudged lipstick from under her bottom lip before taking a deep breath and opening the door. 

Viktor Krum stood in her hallway, impossibly tall and dark-haired, long lashes framing deep brown eyes above plush, smiling lips. His suit was well cut, his jacket tailored to show every inch of seeker muscle to perfection. 

‘Viktor, h-hi.’ Hermione stammered, her nerves flaring. 

His eyes widened, travelling slowly down the length of her body and back up. ‘Herminny, you look beautiful.’ He intoned, his deep accented voice rumbling through his chest. ‘Absolutely stunning as always. Are you ready to go? I have the perfect evening planned for us.’ 

Hermione got a nose full of cologne as Viktor bent, planting a kiss on both of her cheeks, large hands spanning the entirety of her waist. ‘Of course,’ she made herself say. ‘I’m ready.’ She reached for her handbag and coat, slipping her phone into the pocket. Then, after casting one last look at the flowers on the countertop, Hermione took Viktor’s proffered elbow and allowed him to Apparate them away. 

Chapter Text

Harry had been right, Viktor most definitely did take her somewhere ‘posh’.

Of course, Hermione had heard of L’Ambroserie, one of the most famous and expensive restaurants in Muggle Paris. Now, she knew that there was a wizarding equivalent, owned by a branch of the same family and accessed via a Portkey situated within the stone face just inside L’Ambroserie’s entrance. 

Hermione knew this, because for their second date, that was where Viktor took her. As though it was nothing, he took her to Paris, where he had booked a dinner reservation at the most exclusive restaurant in Wizarding France. 

Stepping through the hidden entrance into the overt opulence of the dining room, Hermione was immediately intimidated. She tried to ignore the hush that fell over the other diners as she and Viktor followed the maître d to their table, one of Viktor’s large hands guiding gently at the small of her back. Viktor didn't seem to notice the stares, or if he did (like Harry), he was simply used to being the center of attention. He was relaxed and smiling as he pulled out her chair before taking his own seat and sitting back, observing her with sparkling brown eyes. 

Hermione fidgeted nervously, picking up her napkin and smoothing it over her thighs, just for something to do. 

‘This is okay?’ He asked. ‘You like it?’ 

Hermione almost snorted with incredulity.‘How could I not?’ She breathed, looking around at the decadent decor. ‘It’s beautiful, Viktor.’ 

Throughout the restaurant, rich tapestries adorned the walls along with gilt-framed artwork, ornate mirrors and decorative sconces. Above their heads, chandeliers glittered and every table was weighed down with elaborate floral centrepieces. Hermione had been to expensive restaurants before, but she’d never experienced anything quite so overtly extravagant as this one. 

‘Hopefully you will enjoy the food too.’ Viktor murmured. ‘This is one of my favourite places to eat in Paris.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ Hermione reassured him, although a quick glance at the menu confirmed she had no idea what half of the items were.

When the sommelier arrived, Viktor was polite and gentlemanly, involving Hermione in the discussion as they were presented with various menu choices and suggested pairings. Hermione smiled and nodded vaguely, hoping she didn’t look as out of her depth as she felt when she was tasked with approving the champagne Viktor had chosen. 

‘This is the 2002 vintage Louis Roederer Cristal,’ the sommelier informed her in heavily accented French, pouring a tiny amount into a flute. 

Hermione took a small, hesitant sip, her cheeks flaming as the two men watched her expectantly. 

‘Umm, yes. Very good. That’s lovely, thank you.’

Viktor grinned, but the sommelier barely restrained his eye roll, thin lips pursed as he filled their glasses and left the table with a deferential nod in Viktor's direction. 

Once the bubbles had settled, Viktor raised his glass. 

‘To you, Heminny,’ he said. ‘And to a second chance with my dream girl, even if I had to wait fifteen years for the pleasure.’

Hermione swallowed thickly as she lifted her own glass by the stem, clinking it delicately against Viktors. 

‘Nahs drav vee.’ He held her eye as they both took a sip. ‘Cheers.’

Hermione took a second generous swallow and placed her champagne back down, suddenly aware that several people had stopped eating to watch them, whispering behind their hands.
Most of the muttering was in French, but some of it was in English, and Hermione caught snatches of conversation from the table behind her. 

‘That’s Viktor Krum,’ she heard someone say.  

‘And isn’t that Hermione Granger, with him? Harry Potter’s friend.’

‘No, that’s not her. She was much uglier than that. She had that horrible frizzy hair, remember?’

Hermione took another large sip of her drink, wishing the ground would swallow her up.  
Viktor seemed not to have heard. He suddenly leaned across the table, reaching for her hand. 

‘Tell me, Herminny, what finally convinced you to come on a second date?’ He asked, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘I’ve been asking you out every year since the war ended, and this is the first time you’ve ever said yes to one date, let alone two.’

Hermione hesitated. ‘Oh - well, Viktor, you know I’ve been busy, focusing on my career, working on myself after coming out of a long-term relationship. I haven’t necessarily been ready to date -‘ 

‘Of course, of course. I understand.’ He leaned closer, brown eyes imploring. ‘I know you’ve been put off by my job too, I understand it can be hard to be with someone who is always travelling. But I’ll be retiring soon. I’m thirty-four - too old for international Quidditch. This World Cup will be my last.’ 

‘Oh,’ Hermione said, surprised. 

‘After I retire, I won’t need to travel so much. I can choose a league club anywhere in the world, and London is one of my favourite cities.’

‘Monsieur, Mademoiselle? Have we decided on what we’d like to eat?’ Hermione looked up at the waiter who had appeared at the table, unbelievably grateful for the interruption.

Vaguely, she heard her phone buzz in her clutch, where it rested on the table and realised with a jolt that she hadn’t yet thanked Malfoy for the flowers. A sharp ache tightened her ribs as a pair of wide grey eyes flashed into her subconscious, followed by the hot flare of embarrassment as she was reminded of the way he’d pulled away from her at the hospital.  
Were the flowers Malfoy’s way of acknowledging that moment? An apology of sorts? Or, was it simply something well-mannered men with a lot of money did for their friends when they had something to celebrate? 

‘Herminny?’ Viktor’s voice cut through her thoughts and Hermione blinked, the bustle of the restaurant coming back into focus. 

The waiter hovered, his expression questioning. 

‘Sorry,’ She murmured, sliding her eyes to the menu and reading quickly, trying to decipher the French descriptions. 

‘Would it be good if I ordered for us?’ Viktor asked, clearly noting her hesitation. ‘I know all the best things on the menu here.’ 

‘Yes, of course. Thank you, Viktor.’ Hermione pushed her chair back a little.  ‘Actually, do you mind if I just pop to the ladies for a moment? I won’t be long.’ 

‘No problem. I’ll order whilst you’re gone.’ Viktor turned back to the waiter as Hermione picked up her handbag and rose from the table. She left him pointing to the menu and speaking in broken French.

Hermione got lost on her way to the bathroom, needing to be redirected by two separate members of staff. Again, she felt the prickling heat of numerous pairs of eyes watching her as she wound her way past the other tables. Her discomfort was almost painful as she registered the familiar sensation of being judged and found severely lacking. 

When she finally pushed her way into the quiet of the bathroom, Hermione let out a sigh of relief, slamming the door of the cubicle and locking it firmly behind her. She dropped down onto the closed toilet lid, reaching into her bag to pull out her phone. The message she’d received was from Ginny. 

Hermione Granger, you devious little minx. Didn’t fancy telling your friends that you were out with Krum tonight, did you? Well, tough tits because Harry told us.  
Some advice from me - if ever there was a time to discover your SLUTTY side, this is IT. Show a bit of leg, whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Do anything you can to seal the deal, because half the women in Wizarding Britain would kill to be you right now, and plenty of men, too. 

PS: Don’t talk to him about books or work. Be SEXY.

Hermione pressed her lips together primly. That was one piece of advice she did not need and certainly would not be taking.  As she held her phone in her hand, another message buzzed through. This one from Padma. 

OMGGGGGG Hermione!!!! VIKTOR KRUM?!?! You lucky, lucky girl. I can’t wait to hear all about it! Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do xxx

Hermione closed her eyes, dropping her phone to her lap and blowing out a long breath. When she was a little less overwhelmed, she opened a new message and began to type.

Draco. Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers. They made me smile. I’m so sorry about earlier on, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfo

No. It was too embarrassing. She couldn’t do it. 

She deleted half the message and tried again. 

Draco, thank you so much for the beautiful flowers. You shouldn’t have. I hope you enjoyed football! My lunchbreak is at 12.30 tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the same spot. 

Hermione looked at the screen for a long time, before finally adding 

X

She spent a moment before she went back out, using her wand to cast a smoothing charm on her hair and refreshing her lipstick. With one final bracing breath, she left the sanctuary of the bathroom and braved her way back through the restaurant to the table. 

Viktor watched her approach, sitting back with his champagne in his hand, a small, almost proprietary smile on his face. 

‘Everyone is staring at you, you know, Herminny.’ He murmured as she sat down. ‘They can’t take their eyes off you.’

‘Of course they’re staring,’ she replied, flustered. ‘They’re wondering what the hell I’m doing here with you.’ 

Viktor’s thick black eyebrows drew together as he pulled back in surprise, placing his champagne back down on the table.  
‘Is that truly what you believe, Lyubima?’ He asked, looking genuinely concerned. ‘No. No. That is not the reason why. They are looking at you because you are beautiful. I am the one who is lucky to be here with you, not the other way around. How can you not see this?’ 

Hermione smiled, her heart softening at Viktor’s earnest expression. He really was very sweet.  
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘That’s kind of you, Viktor.’ 

What felt like only minutes later, their food began arriving at the table. After only a few bites, Hermione discovered that Viktor had been right. Everything he’d ordered was delicious. They ate langoustines and caviar to start, followed by tiny portions of lobster, sea bass and beautifully roasted sautéed vegetables. Hermione speared a small piece of courgette, and as she brought it to her lips, it was impossible not to think of Draco and Theo’s disastrous attempt at cooking the night before.

‘You’re smiling,’ Viktor said softly. ‘Does that mean you like the food?’

‘Oh…yes,’ Hermione replied. ‘Everything is delicious, truly.’

He beamed at that, digging into his own food heartily, his knee bumping hers under the table. 

The rest of the evening passed quickly and pleasantly. As she’d found on the previous date, Viktor was good company - funny, warm and talkative. Hermione had to do barely any of the work as Viktor regaled her with stories of the various countries he’d visited and the people he’d met. 

Periodically, she slid a hand into her bag to check her phone, but there was no reply from Malfoy. The only message she received for the remainder of the night was another from Ginny. 

I hope the fact you didn’t reply means you’re finally getting a good dicking down. You deserve it. Call you in the morning and I want ALL the filthy details x

Hermione shoved her phone back into her bag with heated cheeks. 

‘Is everything okay?’ Viktor asked half an hour later as they shared dessert, a decadent praline soufflé that had Hermione’s eyes practically rolling back in her head.

‘You seem to be a little distracted.’ He motioned to her phone, which was now out on the table. 

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ Hermione felt her face flame again. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… sometimes I get calls from work, and I don't want to miss anything urgent.’ 

It was only half a lie. She did occasionally get phone calls when she wasn’t on the ward, one of her colleagues checking something or asking for advice on a difficult delivery.

Viktor nodded gravely, swallowing down a mouthful of soufflé. ‘You work very hard, Herminny.’ He said, waving his spoon in the air. ‘But sometimes life needs to just be about you, no?’ 

‘Of course.’ She replied, more sharply than she’d intended. ‘But if the hospital needed me, I would never ignore a call for help.’ 

Viktor blinked, and Hermione saw her tone had hurt him a little. ‘I know this,’ he replied softly. ‘It is one of the reasons I find myself so drawn to you. You aren’t just knowledgeable, and you aren’t just beautiful. You are so caring, so kind.’

He’d moved closer while he was speaking, and now his face was inches from hers. Viktor took her hand from the table, and Hermione watched as he pressed his lips gently to the back of it.

‘If you were mine, I would treat you like a princess,’ he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin, warm and soft. ‘You would never want for anything. Just imagine what life could be like.’ He looked up at her, and Hermione saw something in his eyes, a longing she hadn’t been expecting. ‘There has been something between us since that first Yule Ball, and through all these years, I’ve held on to it. Now we’re in our thirties, the time for folly has passed. I want a family, I want to settle down. Is that something you want? Could you ever see yourself as a wife, maybe even… a mother?’ 

Hermione felt like she couldn’t breathe. She looked into Viktor’s eyes as she tried to imagine the life he was describing, tried to imagine herself as his wife, a little dark-haired baby in her arms.  
The image was there - just within reach - but for some reason, even though he was describing everything she’d ever wanted, the details were blurry, Hermione couldn’t make the picture form fully in her mind.

‘Viktor, I-‘ she stuttered, sweat prickling along her neck, her dress sticking to her back. 

‘No, it’s okay.’ He pulled back but kept hold of her hand. ‘I don’t want to rush you. That’s not what this is. It’s only our second date. I just wanted you to know where I stand in terms of availability, what I see in my future. As soon as this World Cup is over, I’m ready to give this a real try, if that’s something you would want.’ 

‘O-okay,’ she smiled, relieved that the pressure of giving him any sort of immediate answer was over. ‘That’s…that’s good to know. Thank you, Viktor.’ 

He guffawed loudly, sitting back and slapping his knee. ‘Well,’ he murmured. ‘At least that wasn’t a total rejection, although I can’t say I didn’t hope for a little more. Maybe you can think about what I’ve said over the next few months? We can pick things back up properly in August.’

Hermione nodded, finally feeling her muscles unbunch as she remembered that Viktor would be away training with the Bulgarian team until August 10th, when the actual World Cup began. 

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’ll definitely think about it.’ 

Half an hour later, Hermione waited while Viktor paid the bill, having point-blank refused to allow her to contribute. He reached for her hand as they left the restaurant, and Hermione didn’t have the heart not to allow him to wind his fingers through hers as they stepped outside into the cool night air. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, turning to him. ‘I do need to get home. I have work tomorrow.’ Viktor looked disappointed, and Hermione felt a stab of guilt, knowing he’d hoped to Apparate them to see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. However, she was exhausted, having barely slept the night before worrying about her meeting.  

Viktor was, unsurprisingly, a gentleman as always. ‘Of course,’ he smiled through his obvious disappointment. ‘No problem. Thank you for coming tonight. It was wonderful.’ 

‘No,’ Hermione smiled. ‘Thank you. I had a wonderful time.’ It wasn’t a lie. 

Viktor offered her his arm as he touched the Portkey, and a few moments later, they arrived back at her flat. He left with nothing more than a gentle hug and a peck on her cheek, Portkeying away with promises of a phone call later that week. 

Hermione looked at the empty space where he’d been and heaved a sigh of relief, a sense of achievement flooding through her as she closed the door. She’d done it. She’d been on a second date, and it had been fun. She hadn’t had to do anything she didn’t want to, nor specifically commit to a third. 

She tottered inside on her heels, her feet beginning to ache despite the cushioning charms she’d cast in the soles. 

The scent of Malfoy’s flowers permeated the small flat, and Hermione looked up at them, now arranged in a vase on the worktop. They really were beautiful. 

With a sigh, she headed to the sofa, planning to collapse onto it and take off her shoes.  

‘Oh!’ Hermione let out a small squeak of surprise when she found Harry already lying on the three-seater, his long body stretched out from one end to the other. One of his arms dangled over the carpet, his phone clutched loosely in lax fingers, the other hand splayed out over his chest. He was breathing deeply and evenly, thankfully not yet snoring. There were several empty lager bottles on the coffee table, the last one half finished. 

Hermione cast a quick Tempus and frowned. It was only half past eleven, and Harry didn’t have work the next day. On his nights off, anything before two am was practically the morning for him. What had happened to Theo?

‘Harry?’ She whispered, nudging him slightly with her knee. He twitched and tried to roll over with a beer-scented grunt, his eyes remaining closed. 

She nudged him harder. ‘Harry!’ 

‘Uhhhh.’ He finally opened his eyes, green irises hazy and unfocused.

‘Mione.’ He murmured, reaching for his glasses and lying back down. ‘You’re back from your date. How was it?’ He stretched lazily, glancing at his watch. ‘It’s only early, how come you’re back?’ 

‘I have work tomorrow, remember?’ Hermione said, perching on the arm of the sofa. ‘Why are you? I thought you were meeting Theo tonight?’ 

Harry sat up slowly, his bottom lip pushing out and his eyebrows drawing together in the closest approximation of a pout a six-foot-tall, twenty-nine-year-old man could affect. ‘I was supposed to. But he went to football training with Malfoy and Blaise. Apparently, Malfoy was pissed off all night, lamped some guy in the face over a tackle and started a fight. They had to sort that out and wait for Pansy to heal them. After that, Theo wanted to stay with Malfoy, and they all ended up having dinner at the Penthouse.’

Harry looked distraught about the fact his plans for the evening had been ruined, but Hermione couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the first thing he’d just said. 

‘Wait, Malfoy got into a fight? With who? Was it serious?’ Her heart immediately began pounding, thoughts of Auror visits and the CPS immediately flying into her head. 

‘No, no. It’s sport - fights are normal, no one cares.’ Harry flapped a nonchalant hand. ‘Anyway, apparently Malfoy was booking it down the pitch with the ball and someone fouled him. He didn’t like that, so he started mouthing off and went for the guy, next thing, everyone was involved. Theo said it was a whole club scrap.’

‘Oh God.’ Hermione breathed. ‘Is everyone okay?’ 

Harry pulled a face. ‘Of course. All healed now and laughing about it. They’re going back next week. Theo sent me a picture though, if you want to see?’

Hermione turned to him. ‘A picture of what?’ 

Harry grinned, a wicked look gleaming in his eyes. ‘You’re going to want to take a look at this, I think.’ He said. ‘And really, Mi. I think it’s time you got rid of that old brick and got an iPhone. You are the only person I know without the ability to receive picture messages.’

‘Not this again, Harry.’ Hermione groaned. They’d had the exact same conversation plenty of times before. She’d never felt the need to receive picture messages, but she was aware that her phone was more than a little out of date. 

Harry patted the couch next to him, unlocking his iPhone and turning it to her. Hermione leaned in as he swiped, shrieking in surprise when an image flashed up on the screen. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, but she was nowhere near quick enough to miss the picture Harry must have already had open. It was of Theo, his eyes heavy-lidded, bottom lip pinned between his teeth. He was leaning back on what she assumed was a bed, a fist wrapped tightly around his very hard - ‘Oh my GOD, HARRY!’ She cried, covering her face with her hands. ‘I don’t think that was meant for me.’

‘Shit.’ Harry muttered, quickly swiping off the picture and snorting with laughter. ‘Maybe don’t tell Theo you saw that one, yeah?’

‘Merlin,’ She murmured, pressing a hand to her chest. ‘I’ll never be able to look at him the same. You might have to Obliviate me.’

‘Well,’ Harry shrugged. ‘We had plans for tonight that got thwarted. We needed to keep the momentum going.’ 

‘A-and you sent a picture like that back?’ She whispered, incredulous. ‘What if that got out, Harry? What if someone saw?’ 

Harry only laughed. ‘It won’t, and besides, it was a lovely photo I sent him. I’m sure no one would complain.’ 

Hermione said nothing, unable to do anything except gawk at Harry, still in shock from the unsolicited and unwelcome mental image of Theo in such a compromising position. 

‘Aaanyway,’ Harry continued, only looking mildly put off his stride. ‘Hold onto your knickers because that’s obviously not the picture I wanted to show you. It was this one.’ He thrust the phone back under Hermione’s nose, and she peered down warily, more than a little concerned about what she might see. 

However, as she focused on the image, Hermione was stunned into momentary shock, her mouth falling open as a horrible, unexpected flush of heat seared through her lower belly, closely followed by a wave of burning shame.  

‘Oh my Christ.’ She murmured, the words little more than an exhale.

‘Did you know?’ Harry’s voice was almost accusing. ‘Did you know he looked like that under those posh boy shirts?’ 

Hermione stared down at the phone, her eyes sliding over the screen so she could take in every single detail of the photograph. She had a terrible feeling it was another picture she’d never be able to unsee.

The photo was of Malfoy, presumably taken in Theo’s kitchen earlier that night. 

He was shirtless, leaning up against the marble countertop, his mouth curved up into a bloody smirk, silvery grey eyes narrowed as he held his middle finger up to Theo’s camera. His other hand was up by his face, captured in the act of batting away the tissue Pansy wielded as she attempted to clean him up.

There was bruising around his eyes, blood dripping from his chin onto his bare chest. Hermione followed the path of a single crimson droplet, her gaze sliding down the sharp planes of his abdominals and then lower, to where the delicate tattooed vines dipped out of sight, disappearing into a pair of - oh God - black football shorts. His long socks were pushed below his calves, there was mud on his knees and on his shins. 

The quality of the picture was such that you couldn’t really make out the pale scars of the Sectumsempra, the forearm that bore her scar, hidden by Pansy’s elbow. 

However, the parts of Malfoy you could see were enough to leave Hermione unwell, her blood rushing in her ears.

‘So did you know?’ Harry asked. ‘Because I don’t know how to feel about the knowledge that Malfoy now looks like that.’

Hermione turned to see Harry studying the picture closely too, his eyes roving over Malfoy’s tattooed shoulder, zoning in on the twin hollows either side of the dipped V between his hips. 

‘Yes. I mean, no.’ She stuttered. ‘I have seen him shirtless, briefly, when I arrived yesterday morning. But I wasn’t focusing on his body, not with everything else that’s been going on.’ She trailed away, swallowing heavily. She knew she needed to stop looking at the picture, but it was…challenging. 

‘Told you you needed a camera phone.’ Harry said smugly. 

‘Harry!’ She huffed, pushing at his arm weakly. ‘Stop insinuating things. Malfoy is just my friend. I’ve told you that.’

Harry laughed, holding up his hands. 

‘I know, I know. I’m kidding, obviously. But I definitely won’t be looking at him the same way after this, I don’t see how anyone could.’ 

He finally swiped off the picture, locking the phone and putting it down on the table. Hermione blinked, trying to clear her addled brain. There was still a residual outline of the image trapped behind her eyelids, refusing to go away. 

‘So how was it with Viktor?’ Harry asked after a moment, pulling her feet into his lap to undo her shoes. ‘Did the second date go as well as the first?’

‘It was fine,’ Hermione replied, turning her ankle so he could get at the clasp. ‘Lovely,’ she clarified when Harry frowned at her. ‘Obviously, he’s busy now with the World Cup approaching, but we’re going to meet up again once it’s done.’

‘That’s a while away, though.’ Harry said, gently lifting off her second shoe and placing it on the floor with the first. ‘Don’t you mind?’ 

‘It can’t be helped, Harry.’ She muttered, deliberately not giving him a straight answer. ‘Viktor has a job that takes him away from home.’ 

‘You had fun though?’ 

Hermione felt her heart squeeze at the hopeful look in his eyes. ‘Yes.’ She sat up, taking her feet out of his lap and kissing his cheek. ‘I really did, love. Now I’ve got to get to bed. I’ve got work in the morning.’ 

‘I’m going to head off, too,’ Harry said, yawning. ‘Theo and I have hopefully got an actual date tomorrow night, and I think I’d better get my rest in now. Night, love.’

‘Night, Harry.’ 

Hermione checked her phone once more as she got into bed, but there was still nothing. The glowing green screen remained stubbornly blank. 

With a sigh, she Noxed the lights and cast a silencing charm. Then, she turned over, buried her face in her pillow and screamed. 

Hermione wasn’t sure if Malfoy was going to come and meet her the next day. She heard nothing from him overnight, and nothing came through on her phone over the course of the morning other than a phone call from Ginny, who spent almost half an hour berating her for missing her chance to take the ‘Bulgarian Bonbon’ to bed. 

‘For goodness sake, Hermione.’ Ginny moaned. ‘Your bloody virginity will have grown back soon the way you’re going.’ 

When she arrived at St Mungo’s for her shift, the ward was busy, her colleagues all frantically rushing around trying to manage the chaos whilst still being one person down. Hermione spent several hours with a patient who had been in prolonged labour overnight and was now exhausted and in pain, too tired to keep pushing even though her baby was finally ready to make his entrance into the world. 

She moved the mother to the delivery suite, calling on Mike and Danielle to help with a magically assisted birth. Once again, she was exceedingly grateful for pain relief potions and calming draughts, both for the labouring mother and the decidedly queasy-looking father who sat off to one side, clutching his wife’s hand in an iron grip. Hermione took charge, using the magical equivalent of forceps to gently turn the baby and support the mother to use her contractions to ease his way out. 

The baby boy, described by Mike afterwards as a ‘Little bruiser,’ was eventually born weighing 9lb 10oz. He was very sleepy after a delayed birth, so Hermione stayed with the family, using her monitoring spells to keep an eye on him whilst Danielle looked after mum and Mike brought the tea and toast. 

At half past twelve, she left the ward and made her way out towards the main doors, not expecting Malfoy and Aurora to be there but unable to stop herself from checking regardless. 

As always, the hospital entrance was busy, a steady stream of medical personnel, patients and visitors making their way up and down the steps. Hermione craned her neck, scanning for that inimitable shock of blonde hair rising above the crowd. She peered around the corner, checking the benches along the wall and down the entryway path. 

He hadn’t come.

Fighting against an unexpected wave of disappointment, Hermione turned to walk back into the hospital, hurt quickly turning into frustration. 

Why didn’t Malfoy just tell her if he wasn’t going to turn up? And why send flowers if he was just going to ignore her and refuse to return her texts? She’d been going to kiss his cheek, that was all. It wasn’t like she’d tried to bloody mount him.

‘Granger?’

Hermione stopped walking, something dropping heavily into her stomach as she turned to find Malfoy standing at the top of the steps, Aurora strapped to his chest, slight purple shadows still under both eyes.

He was wearing a hoodie again, blonde flicks of hair curling out underneath the baseball cap pulled low over his face.  
He wasn’t smiling, a tightness around his eyes and mouth that was a stark contrast to the openness from the day before.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ he muttered. ‘We had to do a last-minute outfit change.’ 

‘Oh,’ Hermione breathed. ‘It’s okay. I -I wasn’t sure you were going to come. You didn’t text me.’ 

He frowned down at the ground, his lips pressed tightly together. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ 

From her place on his chest, Aurora let out a small sound in her sleep, shifting slightly in her carrier. Malfoy murmured something softly into her ear, tucking her arm gently back into the carrier and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Hermione dithered, caught off guard by the awkwardness. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

‘Draco?’

He finally looked up, and Hermione couldn’t decipher what she saw when his eyes met hers. The grey was dark, his expression guarded, almost like it hurt him to look at her. 

‘Shall we walk?’ She asked. ‘I’m really glad you came.’ 

His tensed shoulders relaxed, just a little. ‘Yes…let’s go.’ 

They were quiet as they made their way down the steps and towards the green. After a few paces, Hermione felt the cool glide of his Protego slide over her, Malfoy’s magic shimmering protectively around them as they walked. 

‘I brought you lunch,’ he said, holding up a deli bag she hadn’t even noticed in his hand. ‘Potter said you like cheese salad.’ 

‘I do,’ Hermione smiled. ‘Thank you.’

When they got to the bench, Malfoy took Aurora out of the carrier, holding her in his arms while Hermione ate her sandwich. He turned his baseball cap around so he could dot soft little kisses over Aurora’s face, his palm cupping her silky cap of hair. He didn’t say anything to Hermione, the silence stretching out for so long that eventually, she couldn’t stand it any longer. 

‘Draco, if this is about yesterday, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable, but really-‘

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and tipping his head to exhale at the sky. ‘You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Granger.’

‘I don't understand, then,’ she continued, frustrated with the lack of communication. ‘You told me I was better off out of your life, but now you’re walking around with my scar on your arm. You invite me to dinner, buy me flowers, hug me all the time, and then when I go to give you a friendly kiss on the cheek, you pull away like you can’t bear for me to touch you. I’m just so confused-‘

‘I’M confused, Granger!’ He burst out, so abruptly that several people walking nearby turned to look at them.
He lowered his voice. ‘I’m constantly confused, and I’m sorry - for everything. I know I’m getting things wrong, and I’m upsetting you all the time. It’s not intentional, but I…I’ve never done this before. My friends have always been there, like family. You’re the first person I want… I mean, you’re the first person I’ve cared about outside our group for so long. I know I’m shit, but I’m trying. I’m trying to get better so I can - so I can keep you in my life, be your friend.’ He said the word almost contemptuously. ‘I just…’ he looked up at her, and Hermione almost felt sick with the wave of emotion that followed when their eyes met. ‘I’m just…I’m… doing my best. I’m sorry.’ 

Now it was Hermione’s turn to draw out the silence as her mind worked over how she could possibly respond. Malfoy looked down at Aurora, chewing roughly on the inside of his cheek. 

‘I am your friend, Draco.’ She said slowly. ‘And we’re both allowed to get things wrong. Friends don’t turn their backs on each other after every little mistake, okay?’

He took in a deep shaking breath. 

‘I’ve told you this before and I mean it - I care about you. I want you and Aurora in my life. But if that’s what you want, I’m going to need you to do something for me, alright?’ 

Malfoy turned shining grey eyes to hers. ‘Name it.’ 

‘I need you to stop hurting yourself, Draco. I need you to talk to someone, properly, about your grief. I don’t know much about your relationship with Astoria, but I do know that you loved each other, and now you have a baby that is a continuation of that love.’ 

He turned away, his throat working.

‘You are getting better, and you will keep getting better over time. But only if you stop punishing yourself.’

Malfoy was already shaking his head. ‘I just feel so guilty.’ He whispered. ‘Guilty all the fucking time that I’m here and Astoria’s not. I feel like I shouldn’t be happy because she never got to be, not really.’

Hermione fought not to cry.
‘Do you really think she’d want you to be miserable? Is that what you’d want if it were the other way around?’ 

He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, of course not.’ 

‘Well then,’ Hermione said. ‘Astoria isn’t here, but Aurora is. You give that baby your heart and soul, but you need to start dealing with these things for her, okay? So she gets to grow up with a father that’s healthy and happy.’

She watched as unshed tears pooled on his lashes. He blinked, swiping at his eyes furiously, holding Aurora more tightly to his chest. 

‘You deserve peace, Draco,’ Hermione continued. ‘But it has to be a choice. Don’t deny yourself a happy future because of a past that was out of your control.’

He didn’t respond for a long time. Hermione watched him struggle, watched him battle to push down whatever was fighting to rise in his throat. Eventually, he turned to her. ‘Is that what you’ve done?’ He asked. ‘Decided to finally go for what really makes you happy?’  

Hermione paused, caught off guard at the change in direction, but before she had the chance to respond, Malfoy’s phone began to ring. 

He manoeuvred Aurora into one arm, pulling his phone out of his pocket and swearing when he saw the screen.

‘I’m sorry. I have to take this.’ He said, standing up and taking a few steps away from her to answer.

‘Yes?’ His tone was sharp. ‘This is Draco Malfoy,’ The person on the other end spoke rapidly for several seconds, and Hermione watched as his face suddenly paled. 

‘Okay. Has anyone tried-‘

The person on the other end interrupted him, speaking for even longer this time. His eyes fell closed, and he nodded, even though the other person clearly couldn’t see him. 

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Okay. No worries. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

He hung up the phone and pushed it into his pocket. 

‘I’m sorry. I need to go.’ 

‘Now?’

He nodded. ‘Unfortunately.’ 

She rose to help him with Aurora, enabling him to gently wrangle her back into the chest carrier without waking her up.  

‘Is everything alright?’ She asked quietly.

Malfoy’s expression was grim. ‘It will be fine, I’m sure. I’m going to have to walk you back now, though.’ 

‘It’s okay,’ Hermione said. ‘You go. I’ll Apparate from here. But later, I want you to text me and we’re going to meet up so that I can take a look at your arm, okay?’ 

He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching tightly. ‘Yes, Granger.’  

‘That’s, ‘Yes, Healer Granger’ to you.’ She teased, arching an eyebrow.

He gave her a wry smile for the first time that day, and Hermione was glad to finally see a glimmer of light in his eyes.

As Malfoy began to step away, he paused, appearing to debate for a moment. Then, slowly, tentatively, he bent down so that his face was just millimetres from hers. Hermione froze when his hair tickled her jaw, his breath skating over the shell of her ear. The scent of his washing powder was all around her, the spiced notes of his aftershave.  
Malfoy exhaled slowly, and then with almost unbearable gentleness, he pressed a small, featherlight kiss to her cheek. 

‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice low in her ear. ‘You are the bossiest witch I’ve ever met, but I actually think you just said something I really fucking needed to hear.’

‘Th-that’s okay. That’s what friends are for.’ Hermione stuttered, her whole body suffused with tiny bolts of lightning. 

He stepped back and smiled ruefully, turning to begin walking back towards the entrance of the green before stopping once more, cool grey eyes fixed on hers.

‘I need to say one last thing, before I go.’

‘What’s that, Draco?’ 

He sighed, his expression almost regretful, standing with his hands in his pockets, Aurora dozing on his chest. 

‘I just really hope Viktor fucking Krum knows what a lucky man he is.’ 

Chapter Text

Hermione Apparated away from the green and directly into her office, silencing and locking the room with a flick of her wand.

She pressed her back against the door and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for her heart rate to slow down and reason to find her again. Her skin tingled all over, her body still reacting to the brush of Malfoy’s lips and the shock of his parting words.

After five or six calming, measured breaths, she reached into her pocket for her phone, tapping out Harry’s number with embarrassingly clumsy fingers.

‘Mione?’ He answered the call almost immediately, sounding slightly winded. ‘Is everything okay?’

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to formulate a greeting, her need for answers driving her to get straight to the point. ‘Harry,’ she breathed. ‘Who, exactly, did you tell about my date last night?’

Harry paused. ‘I…uh... just a few people.’ He was wary, already contrite. ‘Why?’

‘Who?’

There was another long pause, then eventually Harry’s voice, quiet and uncertain.
‘Well, Ron, obviously. He’s...uh, he's here with me now. We’ve just come back from flying.’

‘Hiya, Mione.’ Ron’s muffled voice came over the line. 'I was wondering, do you think Krum might be able to get us World Cup tickets? We'd only need seven, maybe eight. He wouldn't mind, would he?’

There was the sound of a scuffle. ‘Not now, you knob.’ Harry hissed, clearly unaware she could hear him.

Hermione ignored Ron, too focused on what she needed to know. ‘Harry?’ She asked again. ‘Who did you tell?’

‘Umm, I told Ginny and Dean, so technically I guess that also means Seamus, and Ron obviously told Padma.’

‘Anyone else?’

Another pause. Hermione waited, holding her breath.

‘Theo.' He said eventually. ‘I told Theo, when I called him after work.'

Even though Hermione had already known, the confirmation sent a fresh rush of heat through her entire body, her mind immediately jumping to conclusions that she had to quickly push away.

Distantly, she could hear Ron’s muffled voice on the other end of the line. ‘Theo?’ He asked. ‘Theo who, Harry? Do you mean..?’ The phone rustled loudly, Harry’s hand covering the speaker as he mumbled something to Ron before coming back on the line.

‘Hermione?’ He murmured. ‘Was I not supposed to tell Theo? I'm really sorry. I didn't think you’d mind.’

‘I don’t- I don’t mind, Harry.’ She insisted weakly. ‘I just don’t think the whole world needs to know I went on a date, that’s all.’

‘Shit.’ There was another maddening pause from Harry’s end of the line. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t seen it, then?'

Hermione's stomach dropped. ‘Seen what?’

Harry didn’t reply.

‘Seen what, Harry?’

Five minutes later, Hermione stood frozen, staring down at the copy of the Prophet she'd snatched off a chair in the hospital waiting room. Her hands shook, a swell of horrified embarrassment growing in her chest as she took in the image on the front page.

It was a photograph of her, sitting opposite Viktor in L’Ambroserie, their knees touching, her hand grasped tightly in his.
In the image, Viktor’s head was bowed as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, dark eyes gazing up at her. Her dress was dipped low where she leaned forward, a spiral of hair trailing down her neck to her flushed collarbone. She was smiling, her eyes fixed on Viktor’s face. Hermione knew that in the moment, the blush that brightened her cheeks was due to surprise at the unexpectedly forward plans he had proposed for their future - but it certainly didn’t look that way.
In the photo, she looked like she was revelling in Viktor’s affections, her smile appearing almost seductive.

Realistically, Hermione knew that Draco Malfoy should not be all she could think about when looking at the photograph. Her picture was once again on the front page of the Prophet, the screaming headline making wildly inaccurate assumptions about her private life.
The damned intrusiveness of it all should be her biggest concern.

And yet…

Malfoy.

He had known she was on a date before he started the fight at football training, and he’d likely seen the newspaper prior to meeting her at the hospital - there were countless newsstands between Hebridean Heights and St Mungo’s - it was almost impossible for him to have missed it.

For a brief moment, Hermione let her thoughts slip back to how she’d left him, standing with his hands in his pockets, silvery eyes intent on her face. Giving in, she let herself really look at him - the hard clench of his jaw, the way his top teeth pushed into the plush pillow of his lower lip when he enunciated the ‘f’, a flash of sharp white against soft pink.

‘I just really hope Viktor Fucking Krum knows what a lucky man he is.’

Hermione’s head dropped back against the door, her eyes sliding closed as something dangerous hummed in her veins, snaking its way through her system to curl low in her belly, potent and hot. It settled there, simmering, waiting for her to acknowledge it.

But she wouldn’t acknowledge it.

She couldn’t.

Because Draco Malfoy was a grieving man. He still wore a band around his finger that signified his devotion to a woman who had died not five months before. He cried for her - his best friend and confidant, the mother of the tiny baby he clung to like a lifeline.
He’d already confessed to Hermione that he felt out of his depth as he navigated his new life alone. He was confused. He was vulnerable. There were a million reasons why he might think someone like Viktor was lucky, because so far in life, Draco’s own luck seemed to have deserted him.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, an icy dose of reality spreading through her consciousness, snuffing out the smouldering embers she should never have allowed to catch alight in the first place.

‘Hermione?’

She turned to find Danielle peering at her, her expression a mixture of wry curiosity and friendly concern. Hermione realised with a start that she’d been standing motionless in the hospital waiting room, the Prophet still clutched tightly in her hand.
‘You’re front page news.’ Danielle nodded towards the crumpled paper. ‘And a dark horse too. You kept that one quiet, you lucky girl.’

Hermione folded the paper up, forcing her face into something approaching neutral. ‘Well, I wasn’t really planning on seeing my dating life splashed all over the tabloids if I’m honest, Danielle.’

Danielle pulled a face. ‘I’ve been dying to find a moment to talk to you, but we’ve been so busy without Ernie.’ She stepped closer, putting a hand on Hermione’s arm. ‘I know you, and I know you’ll hate all the attention, so I won’t make a big fuss. All I’ll say is I’m so happy for you, and please don’t forget about us when you leave to go and be a rich Quidditch wife. I don’t know what I’ll do here without you.’

‘Gods,’ Hermione huffed at the preposterousness of it all. ‘I won’t be leaving, and I’m definitely not planning to run off and be a Quidditch wife. This was only a second date.’

‘But the article says…’

‘I know what it says,’ Hermione replied. ‘But it’s the Prophet, Dani. You can’t believe a single word Rita Skeeter writes. Viktor and I went on a date, we don’t currently have plans for another because he’s away now, training for the World Cup. That’s it. That’s the whole story.’

‘Oh,’ Danielle looked disappointed. ‘But still, there’s potential there? I’ve just been so excited for you. I feel like you always do so much for everyone else, I just want to see you finally get the happily ever after you deserve.’

Hermione forced a smile, unable to stop the wistful sigh that made its way up from her chest. ‘I don’t know if life is ever that simple, Dani,’ she said. ‘Not everybody gets to have what they really want. Maybe those things just aren’t in the stars for me.’

Danielle shook her head. ‘That’s bullshit, Hermione. Personally, I think that everyone has a soulmate - the one person you meet in life that shines so brightly you can't look away from them, even when you keep trying. Maybe the stars haven’t aligned for you yet, but they will. Good things happen to good people, and you-‘ she pointed a finger at Hermione’s chest. ‘Are a good person.’

Hermione swallowed, her throat aching again. Danielle was young, naive. She hadn’t experienced the world the way Hermione had. The picture she painted was pretty, but it wasn’t realistic. Being a good person ultimately meant very little in the grand scheme of things - she'd seen some of the best people dealt the worst hands imaginable. And as for soulmates? The idea that there was only one person out there for everyone? Hermione couldn’t think of anything less statistically plausible.

‘That’s a lovely thought, Dani,’ she said neutrally, unable to bring herself to throw Danielle’s kindness back in her face. ‘And I’d love to imagine you could be right.’

‘I know I’m right.’ Danielle said, bending to gather up the pile of maternity notes she’d set down on one of the blue plastic chairs. ‘Just…don’t give up on him yet, okay? There’s a reason he’s come back into your life after so long, and if he’s the one that keeps shining brighter than everyone else, then he’s definitely worth waiting for.’

With one last pointed look, Danielle gave Hermione’s elbow a gentle squeeze and stepped away, heading back towards the reception area.

Hermione walked in the other direction, dumping the copy of the paper into the bin as she passed. It was almost half an hour later when she realised that Danielle had actually been talking about Viktor.

The rest of Hermione’s shift passed slowly, she spent it growing steadily more irritated, painfully aware that she was the topic of almost all the conversation between her colleagues on the ward. She chose to ignore the covert glances from Mike and Katie and did a relatively good job of pretending that she didn’t notice the way people stopped their conversations when she walked past, only snapping once at a young Mediwitch who was brazen enough to ask her if Viktor was as good in bed as the rumours made out.

To keep her mind busy, she did what she always did and focused solely on her patients, spending several hours monitoring a mother who had come in panicking after experiencing some early contractions. Hermione settled her patient into a bed and closed the curtain before sitting next to her and squeezing her hand comfortingly. She ran her wand over the swell of the mother’s rounded belly, quickly finding the rapid throb of a tiny heartbeat. ‘There we go,’ she said, smiling. ‘Baby’s heart rate is perfect, nice and steady. I’ll monitor you for a little while, but I’m pretty sure you're just having some Braxton Hicks contractions, they should ease soon.’

Once she was confident her patient definitely wasn’t in early labour, Hermione left Mike to continue monitoring and moved around the ward, checking charts.
Yesterday’s ‘Little Bruiser’ was named Sebastian, and he was doing so well he was almost ready to go home. Hermione oversaw the discharge process, ensuring he was weighed and had his reflexes and hearing tested. She spent a while talking mum through all of her questions whilst simultaneously pretending she hadn’t noticed the baby’s father squinting at her, his eyes sliding between her face and the newspaper he held in his hands.

In the end, Hermione worked an hour past when her shift ended after being caught up in helping Healer Jennings with an emergency C-section to deliver a set of beautiful twin girls. She left the hospital drained and dishevelled but with a grounding sense of satisfaction, glad to have had something else to focus on for a few hours.

She checked her phone as she made her way down the hospital corridor, unsurprised to find a ridiculous amount of missed calls and messages. Hermione replied to Luna and Padma, seething quietly at the audacity of the voicemail she’d received from Rita Skeeter asking for an interview.
There was a sweet message from Viktor checking that she was okay. She replied to him too, reassuring him that she knew he’d had no idea they were being photographed and that it wasn’t his fault. She promised him she’d call him later in the week.

She stopped when she saw Malfoy’s name on her unopened message list, holding her breath as she opened his text.

Granger, I’ve been held up here and won’t get back until around eight. Is that too late to come over? X

Hermione replied instantly.

No, it’s not too late. Don’t worry, just come whenever you can. X

His reply was also instantaneous, almost as if he’d been waiting for her message to come.

:) Great. We’ll be there X

Smiling to herself at the bizarre improbability of Draco Malfoy using text emojis, Hermione entered the hospital Floo and made her way home.

When she arrived back at the flat, she was welcomed by utter chaos and the sight of Harry, storming around in only his pants and a state of absolute panic.

‘Hermione, thank GOD.’ He grabbed her the second she stepped through the door, crushing her in a cologne-scented hug before pulling back and grasping her shoulders so he could look into her face. ‘Are you okay? Do you have that bitch Skeeter back in a jar yet?’

Hermione laughed. ‘I wouldn’t tell an Auror if I did now, would I?’

‘That’s because you’re smart.’ Harry grinned. ‘But you know, if you do have any nefarious urges, I have several dodgy contacts who could help you out, no questions asked.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ She replied, gazing around at the clothes and shoes strewn haphazardly around the flat. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on here?’

‘Ugh,’ Harry groaned, flinging himself onto the sofa and dropping his head into his hands. ‘I appreciate that this doesn’t even register on the crisis scale after the day you’ve had, but I’m absolutely freaking the fuck out.’

Hermione pulled off her shoes and sat down next to Harry, reaching up to rub his back soothingly.
‘Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. What's gotten you into such a state?’

Harry turned anxious green eyes to hers, and Hermione’s heart lurched at the rare vulnerability she saw reflected in them. She reached for his hand and held it between hers. ‘Harry, what’s wrong?’

He sighed, using his other hand to lift his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘So…I’m going out with Theo later, you know that, right?’

Hermione nodded. ‘I thought you were really looking forward to it?’

‘I am,’ he insisted, looking absolutely miserable.
‘That’s the bloody problem, Mi. This is the first time in as long as I can remember that I’m nervous. I usually don’t care what my dates think of me. I’m usually just…’ he paused, but only momentarily - she and Harry had no secrets. ‘I usually just want to get off and get out. I don’t ever plan for it to go any further than a casual hook-up, and so I’m always in control. But Theo…he makes me all…’ Harry’s face twisted as he waved his hands around. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be around someone I actually like. Theo’s all sexy and clever and funny, and I’m just… What am I? A famous name and stories of things I did fifteen fucking years ago. What if we go on this date and he’s…disappointed?’

Hermione’s heart ached sharply in her chest. Very few people knew Harry the way she did, but despite his disarming confidence and apparent inability to take anything seriously, Harry’s horrendous childhood experiences had left him with deeply buried insecurity and an immense fear of letting people down.
‘Oh, Harry,’ she murmured, reaching to pull him into a tight hug. ‘My darling. You sweet, sweet man. Don’t you see? Theo doesn’t want you for who you were fifteen years ago. He wants you for who you are now - the most wonderful, kind and brave man. Don’t overthink it, just be yourself and it’ll be absolutely impossible for Theo to not fall even harder for you than he already has.’

Harry buried his head in Hermione’s neck as she felt him nodding against her collarbone. ‘Okay.’ He sighed uncertainly. ‘Okay, yeah. I won’t know unless I try, I suppose. His arms tightened around her waist. ‘l love you, Mione.’

Hermione smiled. ‘I know. I love you too, Harry.’ She pressed a kiss to the top of his messy head. ‘Do you want me to help you choose something to wear? Would that be a good start?’

Harry nodded again, pulling away to give her a small, lopsided grin. ‘I haven’t got a clue. I even debated going out in my uniform just to get him all horny again.’

‘Merlin.’ Hermione laughed. ‘Don’t do that, he’ll combust on the spot.’ She looked around at the piles of clothes strewn across the floor. ‘Right, come on, Cinderella,’ she said, rising to stand. ‘Your fairy godmother is here, let’s get you ready for the ball.’

Half an hour later, Harry was dressed and ready, practically vibrating with nervous energy as he waited for Theo to arrive. His white shirt was crisp and tucked, the top button undone to reveal a small slice of bare skin at his throat. He wore dark jeans and a grey tweed jacket that fitted his seeker’s body closely, showing off the sculpted muscles of his back and arms.
He grinned at Hermione through the mirror as she finished running her wand over his hair, adding some wax to the ends to keep it in place. It was bizarre to see Harry looking so put together, the jagged edge of the lightning bolt scar just peeking out from under the tidy sweep of his fringe.

‘You look gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Theo is going to lose his mind.’

‘That’s the plan.’ Harry’s wink was salacious, and Hermione was glad to see him back to his usual cocky self. ‘I want to put that man on his knees.’

She smiled, absolutely no doubt in her mind that Harry would be successful in his endeavour.
‘Did you end up telling Ron about you two?’ She asked. ‘What did he say?’

Harry pulled a face ‘I did. I don’t think he was that surprised, to be honest. He knows a bit about what’s been happening with Malfoy, knows you and I have been hanging out with the Slytherins a little.’

‘He does?’ Hermione asked, momentarily surprised until she remembered that Harry and Ron still told each other everything.

‘Yeah, he did kind of try and warn me off a bit, though. He said that I should be careful about being seen associating with known Voldemort supporters, given my job and all.’

Hermione huffed irritably. Whenever she began to think that Ron had finally matured, he disappointed her with his inability to let go of the past. ‘I hope you put him straight,’ she retorted. ‘None of them were actually Voldemort supporters. They were just isolated teenagers, manipulated by their families into repeating the vile nonsense they’d had shoved down their throats from birth. They were scared and did what they thought they had to to survive, just like us.’

‘I know that now.’ Harry replied. ‘I told Ron the same thing, but it’s harder for him. He lost his brother in that war, and it almost destroyed their entire family. Molly has never been the same since Fred’s death, and neither has George. It’s understandable that Ron needs someone to blame, especially seeing as most of the actual Death Eaters are already dead.’ Harry sighed. ‘We argued a bit about it, but by the time I left, he seemed to understand, especially when I told him about Aurora and the Greengrasses.’

‘Malfoy didn’t kill Fred, Harry,’ Hermione replied. ‘And Theo certainly didn’t. Ron must know that, especially after so long. We’re the adults now. We need to stop letting the hatred forced upon us as children remain a barrier. Our generation has to move on together - otherwise Voldemort still bloody wins.’

‘Oh, he knows, deep down.’ Harry said. ‘It’s all just new for him, and you know what Ron’s like, love. Once he’s had time to think about things and been given a good earful from Padma, he’ll be fine. He just needs a bit longer to adjust, that’s all.’

A sudden sharp pull on the wards had them both jumping up, followed by a quiet knock at the door.

‘Fuck, it’s him.’ Harry hissed, looking around at the messy room, his expression panicked. A quick flick of Hermione’s wand had the immediate vicinity looking semi-decent, a large pile of discarded clothes zipping into Harry’s room for him to deal with later.

Harry locked his eyes on hers, and she gave him an encouraging nod, watching him take a deep breath before he walked towards the door, smoothing down his hair nervously. Hermione couldn’t help but smile at how similarly Theo had behaved just a few days prior. They were both so anxious to impress, it was adorable.

After taking a few seconds to collect himself, Harry swung open the door to the flat. This time Theo didn’t hesitate. He was inside with his tongue in Harry’s mouth before either of them had even taken a breath, walking Harry backwards until he was pressing him against the wall of the entryway. Harry didn’t argue, kissing Theo just as fervently in return, seeming to have immediately forgotten that Hermione was there, again.

‘Fuck,’ Theo breathed, his hands gripping the back of Harry’s neck tightly as he wrenched his lips away, mouthing along Harry’s jaw between gasps. ‘Fuck. I need you, Harry. That fucking photo you sent earlier…I’ve been hard as a rock since lunchtime.’

‘Hello, Theo.’ Hermione called, and Theo lifted his head from where he’d been licking up the side of Harry’s throat, his swollen pupils contracting when he saw her standing there, one hand raised awkwardly in greeting.

He let out a long, frustrated groan, pressing one hand to the wall as he stepped back from Harry a scant inch. ‘Granger, Darling.’ He practically growled. ‘It’s lovely to see you as always, but seriously, are you actually a professional cockblock? Every time I think I’m finally alone with Potter, you or fucking Malfoy appear, like it’s your godsdamned job to give us blue balls.’ He began to look slightly unhinged as he continued ranting. ‘I’m actually at the point where I might just need to carry on defiling Potter regardless. You don’t mind, do you? I’m sure you’ve seen your best friend naked before.’

Harry let out a small, garbled sound of surprise. He sounded partially horrified but also, much to Hermione’s dismay, partially aroused too.
‘Merlin,’ he muttered, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. ‘Hermione and I are close, Theo, but not that close. And anyway,’ he gripped Theo’s chin, turning his face gently back towards his own. ‘I thought you and I were going out on an actual date, first. You said I had to wine and dine you before I’d be getting into your pants, and I took that request very seriously. I got dressed up and everything, can’t you tell?’

Harry’s words finally seemed to force Theo to claw back some semblance of control, the desperate urgency in his eyes fading slightly. He stepped back further so he could look Harry over properly, dragging his eyes slowly from his ankles, up and over every inch of his body, finally settling on his face.
‘You look incredible,’ he muttered. ‘Like every one of my fantasies come true.’ Harry’s answering smirk was smug, but he was clearly affected by the inspection, practically melting under Theo’s lingering gaze.
Hermione felt her own cheeks grow warm, certain that the two men had forgotten they had company once again.
‘Just one thing…’ Theo paused momentarily, biting his lower lip as he reached up to slide his fingers into Harry’s hair. Harry stopped breathing, his eyes fluttering shut as Theo dragged his fingers through the coarse waves, feathering the strands between his knuckles, pulling and ruffling until all of Hermione’s hard work was undone and Harry’s hair was as wild and unruly as it had been before she started.

‘There,’ a satisfied smile curled one side of Theo’s lips. ‘Now you look perfect. Now you look like Harry Potter.’

Harry groaned, grabbing hold of Theo’s belt buckle and yanking him closer so he could kiss him again. ‘And you look like Theodore Nott,’ he muttered. ‘The sexiest fucking bastard I’ve ever met.’

‘Wasn’t the reservation you made for eight o’ clock, Harry?’ Hermione piped up, aware she was being annoying but also gravely concerned that Theo might decide to try and make good on his earlier threat. ‘It’s half past seven now.’

Theo pulled his mouth away from Harry’s with a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his smoothly shaven jaw. ‘Christ, this dinner is going to kill me.’ He muttered. ‘Come on, Potter, let’s go. I’ll let you take me out, and we can both pretend we’re actually interested in eating our meals instead of eating each other.’

‘Theo!’ Hermione cried, unable to hold back her gasp of shock. ‘Please.’

‘Sorry, Granger,‘ he laughed. ‘Sometimes I forget you’re a bit more buttoned up than Pans is.’

‘I’m not…buttoned up,’ she frowned, and this time it was Harry’s turn to laugh.

‘Sure, you’re not, Mione. You went on a date with an international Quidditch player last night, and the most you let him do was kiss you on the bloody cheek.’

‘Oh?’ Theo’s ears had pricked up. He finally stepped back from where he’d been crowding Harry, stalking towards Hermione with one raised eyebrow.
‘So Krum didn’t take you back to his hotel room last night, then? Because that’s what the Prophet said happened.’

‘No!’ Hermione spluttered, horrified. ‘He didn’t! Is that what she actually wrote? God! Rita Skeeter does deserve to live in a bloody fucking jar!’

‘Ohhhh,’ Theo replied thoughtfully, the eyebrow raising even higher. ‘Interesting… ‘ He trailed one finger absently over the Formica countertop of the kitchenette. ‘I know someone who will find that information very interesting.’

Hermione paused. ‘What do you mean?’

Theo shook his head. There was something indecipherable in his eyes that Hermione couldn’t gauge, but he sort of looked a little pleased, his expression almost triumphant.
‘Nothing,’ he replied quietly. ‘Nothing at all.’ He turned to Harry. ‘We’d better go then, Potter. I hear Granger has plans of her own this evening. A certain grumpy blonde has apparently agreed to some private healing.’

Harry turned to Hermione. ‘You’re seeing Malfoy again tonight? You didn’t say.’

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘We had a chat earlier and he agreed to let me look at his scar. There are some charms I can do to reduce the swelling, hopefully make it a little less tender.’

Theo huffed a small laugh down at the ground, and Hermione frowned at him again. ‘Theo? Are you sure you don’t have anything to say?’

‘It’s just funny, that’s all.’ Theo replied. ‘I’ve never seen Malfoy so happy to let someone boss him around. He’s usually one of the most irritatingly stubborn people I’ve ever met, but when it comes to you, he suddenly turns into a puppy dog. I honestly think he likes being told what to do by you. He’d probably do anything you ask.’

Hermione felt her heart flutter behind her ribs again, a tug low in her abdomen.
She snorted to hide how flustered she was, flapping her hands irritably in their direction.

‘I thought you were leaving? Haven’t you just been complaining about not getting any time alone?’

Theo grinned, but Hermione didn’t miss Harry’s slightly worried frown.

‘Just keep Draco and Aurora here as long as you can,’ Theo said, turning to Harry. ‘That way you and I can go back to the penthouse and I can show you my massive… jacuzzi.’

Any misgivings Harry may have had about how Hermione spent her evening seemed to instantly disappear as he flashed a hungry smile back at Theo, his eyes dark with lust.
‘Yeah,’ he replied hoarsely. ‘Keep Malfoy here, Mione.’

‘I’m sure he won’t need too much convincing.’ Theo threw her a gentle wink, although Hermione knew, despite his teasing, that Theo would be glad to see Malfoy accepting some help. It was a step forward, rather than a step back, which had been Theo’s primary concern at dinner just a few days ago.

The two men finally left the flat ten minutes later, each giving Hermione a kiss on the cheek before Disapparating, their fingers entwined, eyes bright with anticipation. Hermione smiled as she watched them go, wondering if either of them had any idea how much the other was actually invested.

With the flat finally empty, she looked around, seeing it for the first time as Malfoy might - a man who was essentially a billionaire. He lived in a Manor House on acres and acres of land. The entire flat was probably smaller than one of his bathrooms, and it was undeniably tatty, although she and Harry liked to call it cosy.

Nothing they had was extravagant or shiny (except her unashamedly large shoe collection), and almost nothing matched. Every piece of art and ornament had sentimental value, many things were cracked or dented, and although the flat was clean, neither she nor Harry were particularly tidy. Hermione had a terrible habit of leaving books piled up in corners, and Harry was notorious for leaving half-finished cups of tea on every available surface.
Gasping when she realised the time, Hermione cast a slightly more thorough cleaning charm and then dived into the shower, her anticipation growing as eight o'clock drew nearer.

By eight fifteen, she was pacing the kitchen, a damp patch spreading down her back as her clumped curls slowly began to separate, twisting into gradually tightening spirals.
She had dressed casually in a pair of light blue leggings and a navy sweatshirt, putting on a minimal amount of fresh makeup to cover up the eyebags of another highly emotional day.

By half past eight, she’d checked her phone several times, a small inner voice whispering that Malfoy had probably changed his mind and wasn’t going to come. Ultimately, he didn’t really want her to heal him, he’d probably just text her when he got home with an excuse.

Nine o'clock came and went with no word, and by ten pm, Hermione thought she should probably just give up and go to bed. She sat on the sofa with her phone clasped between her palms, staring down at it as she debated what to do.

Gradually, worry began worming its way in to niggle in her gut. Malfoy had said he was coming. The texts she’d reread at least ten times had definitely indicated he was coming. He hadn’t messaged or called since to say otherwise.
But then, he wasn’t the most reliable with his phone, and he’d obviously had somewhere important to be, whatever the phone call had been about had kept him busy all day.

Were they at the point where she had any right to message and ask if he was okay? Would he view that as Hermione overstepping her mark? After all, they’d recently gone more than three months without speaking after the last time he’d felt that she had.

Several times she pulled up his number and stared at it, not sure what to do. She wished she had Pansy’s number or some way of checking he was alright without bothering him.

Hermione had no idea when she fell asleep, but a sharp pull on the wards around the flat jerked her unceremoniously awake. She pushed herself upright in a daze, frowning when she looked at the cooker light and realised it was almost midnight. Hermione waited, listening, unsure if the wards had just picked up Harry, arriving home from his date.
A quiet knock at the door a few seconds later confirmed that it was not.

Hermione stood up, rubbing at her tired eyes. After a second of debate, she picked up her wand from the kitchen counter and padded silently to the entryway, pausing to listen for a moment longer before tentatively pushing down the handle and pulling the flat door open.

No matter what Hermione told herself, no matter how inherently wrong she knew it was, the sight of Draco Malfoy standing in her hallway felt like a Bombarda had gone off in her chest.
Hermione’s stomach lurched as she took him in, her heart banging so forcefully behind her ribs that she felt like it might suddenly burst free and fly away.

Malfoy stood silently outside her door, tall and elegant and ruined.
His whole body swayed as his eyes met hers, almost as though it was all he could do to stay upright.
He was still in the hoodie from earlier, although the baseball cap was nowhere to be seen. His hair was spiked into dishevelled peaks, the shadows under his eyes a concerning shade of violet. He was deathly pale.

Aurora was held at his side in a car seat, thankfully fast asleep. He held a set of car keys clutched in his other hand.

‘Draco,’ she breathed. ‘Are you alright?’

Malfoy jerked at the sound of her voice, swallowing hard, a muscle twitching in his cheek.
He didn’t say anything for several long beats, rocking back on his heels, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione hovered, holding her breath, unsure of what to do.
‘Draco?’

‘No,’ the word was a croak. He swallowed again, his eyes closing momentarily. ‘I’m not alright, Granger. I can’t… I need…’

He stepped towards her just as Hermione let go of the doorframe and reached for him.

The second Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, Malfoy gave in. His body hunched inwards as he bowed his head and buried his face deeply in her hair just as a raw, anguished sob ripped from his throat, breaking Hermione’s heart in two. He clutched at her jumper with his free hand, his fingers gentle but desperate as he pulled her body closer, like he needed the contact to survive.

‘Granger,’ he gasped, shuddering violently, ‘I can’t. I tried. I’ve had the most horrendous day - ’ his words cut off as another sob wracked through him. Without loosening her hold on his shoulders, Hermione carefully unwound one arm to gently reach down and tug the handle of Aurora’s car seat from Malfoy’s grip. He resisted for a moment and then let her, gradually relaxing his fingers so she could take the weight of the seat. Hermione bent to set the baby down on the ground before standing up and wrapping her arms firmly back around Malfoy’s neck as she felt the first of his tears begin to soak into her hair.

Hermione held Malfoy that way for a long time.
She couldn’t even begin to estimate how long they remained standing together in her entryway, the seconds and minutes ceasing to have any tangible meaning as she smoothed her hand down his back and stroked his hair and murmured comforting words in his ear despite having no idea what had knocked him so violently off kilter.

Malfoy cried as though his heart was breaking, his face pressed into Hermione’s shoulder, his whole body pressed tightly to hers. Her legs trembled with the effort of holding them both up, but she didn’t loosen her grip on him, even for a second. She held on, letting Malfoy finally release all of the tension he’d been holding on for months as he fell apart just as thoroughly as he had that first night at the hospital, messy and unguarded and cathartic.

He was burning hot despite the shivers that wracked his body, his face pink and shining when he finally lifted his head. His chest still hitched, his breathing erratic as he began slowly trying to get himself under control.

‘Sorry,’ he rasped. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I just didn’t know where else to go. Pansy and Blaise are in Italy, and I couldn’t go back to the Penthouse, Theo wants time… he deserves time with Potter. I thought about just going home, but the manor it’s... I just wanted to be somewhere warm. You’re so… I needed…’

‘Shhh,’ Hermione murmured. ‘Draco, don’t. You don’t have to apologise. I’m glad you’re here.’

He began pulling away. ‘No, I’m sorry. It’s late, I shouldn’t be burdening you like this.’ He scowled suddenly, catching her off guard when he added. ‘Your boyfriend wouldn’t like it.’

He dropped to kneel next to Aurora, wandlessly casting the monitoring charms he definitely shouldn’t still be reliant on. He pulled back the soft white blanket and watched her chest rise and fall for a moment before gently undoing a few buttons of her jacket.

‘We’re going to go.’ He stood up sharply, his shoulders squaring as he scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly about to pretend he hadn’t just completely fallen apart in Hermione’s arms.

‘Draco,’ she implored, placing a hand on his back. ‘Please don’t. I don’t want you to be alone when you feel like this.’
He turned away from her, already shaking his head.

‘Granger-‘

‘Just stay, Draco. Talk to me. You don’t always have to try and keep things in. Sometimes there’s strength in allowing someone, anyone, to share the emotional load. I’m here, I’m your friend. I’ll listen as long as you need me to.’

He let out a growl of frustration, eyeing the door, still aiming for escape.
‘I can’t, Granger.’ He moved to step away, and without thinking, Hermione reached for him, grabbing his wrist. Clearly, Malfoy hadn’t been expecting her to do it - hadn’t braced - because he suddenly hissed with pain, his face going chalky white. He yanked his arm out of her grasp, gritting his teeth as he bent to pick Aurora carefully up from the floor.

‘Don’t you dare.’ Hermione moved quickly to stand in front of him, blocking the exit to the flat. Looking down, she could see the fingers of infection working their way down his wrist and into the veins of his hand. Small, spidery red lines, his pale skin already beginning to stretch taut as the swelling spread outwards from the scar he’d put onto his own body.

‘Draco Lucius Malfoy,’ she huffed. ‘I am not letting you leave here like this.’ Hermione planted her hands on her hips, glaring up at him as fiercely as she could manage. ‘I’m not letting you spend this night alone. You agreed. You said you’d let me help you, and so help me Merlin, you’re going to do that or I swear I’ll show you exactly how bloody bossy I can be.’

Malfoy stopped in his tracks, swearing under his breath as his eyes narrowed and he pulled himself up to full height, breathing hard. His magic swirled around them, dark and agitated and tempestuous. Hermione held his gaze, her chin tilted up in defiance as her own magic crackled in return.

They entered into a stalemate, nose to nose, toe to toe. Malfoy’s nostrils flared with irritation, but as she held her ground, Hermione saw something gradually change in his eyes, a small twinkle pushing through the thick fog of his anger. His lips twitched, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his side.

‘Fuck.’

The word was low, coming from somewhere in the back of his throat, and the cadence of it reverberated through Hermione’s entire body, like a stone dropping into a lake, lapping outwards in ripples so that she couldn’t help but shiver.

The room was filled with magic, both hers and his, it sparked around them, small zaps of electricity pumping Hermione’s blood faster around her body, adrenaline, frustration and something else, that unconscionable heat, the one she absolutely could not be feeling.

Malfoy suddenly stepped back, blinking as he seemed to realise how close their faces were at the same time Hermione did.

His eyes were bloodshot, his exhaustion painfully clear as his body suddenly seemed to sag, all the fight going out of him. ‘Fine. You win.’ He sounded utterly defeated.

Hermione paused, having expected far more resistance than she had gotten. Sighing loudly, Malfoy turned and began striding towards the flat door, pulling it open and stepping out into the hall with Aurora in hand.
‘Really?’ Hermione called. ‘That’s it? You’re going to shut me out again already?’

‘No,’ Malfoy sighed. ‘I’m going to let you in. You really want to know about where I’ve been all day, Granger? You think you can actually help? Come on then. Get in the godsdamned car.’

Blindsided, Hermione didn’t argue, and she didn’t waste any time in case he changed his mind. She quickly pulled on her trainers and grabbed a coat before following Malfoy down to the street where he’d parked his car, another Mercedes, black and sleek and shiny, with chrome accents and a supple leather interior.

They drove silently through the sleeping city, Malfoy constantly checking on Aurora, who dozed peacefully in the back, once again completely unaware of the drama that swirled around her. Hermione glanced at him several times, but Malfoy kept his eyes on the road, exhaustion pulling his face tight and making him look ghostly pale in the headlights of the other cars when they shone on his face.

Hermione didn’t say anything, not wanting to spook him as she recalled the last time they’d been in the car together.

After around half an hour of driving, he slowed down, indicating right and turning off an A road Hermione didn’t recognise and travelling slowly for several miles down a narrow country lane.
After ten or so minutes, without stopping the car, Malfoy muttered something quietly under his breath and suddenly a building appeared out of the gloom, a huge and imposing stone estate, set behind a set of tall wrought iron gates. Malfoy turned smoothly onto the long drive, the gates opening automatically. As they drew nearer to the house, Hermione was able to read the sign erected outside, floodlights illuminating the swooping cursive lettering.

The Grove - Luxury Residential Suites

Malfoy remained silent as they parked up in one of the designated spots, stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut before moving around to open Hermione’s side and help her out.
She waited while he leaned in to grab Aurora’s bag and then lift her from the carseat, shushing her gently when she predictably began to grumble. He cast a warming charm and wrapped the soft knitted blanket tighter around her as Aurora gradually settled back down onto his shoulder, happy once she realised she was in her father’s arms.

‘This way,’ he murmured, and Hermione followed him towards the entrance, their feet crunching loudly over the gravel. She waited when they reached the entryway, Malfoy muttering his name into a gold speaker set into the stone.
The heavy wooden doors swung open, and they stepped inside, Hermione’s senses immediately assaulted by the familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital.
A woman was already moving out from the reception desk towards them, her immaculate green robes starched and pressed, the gold badge on her chest giving her name as Healer Pennie Simons.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ she breathed, looking concerned. ‘Did someone call you? I was unaware there had been any further problems today.’

‘No,’ Malfoy replied, curt but forcibly polite. ‘No one called. I simply require further visiting time this evening.’ He motioned to Hermione, who stood shifting uncomfortably at his side. ‘This is my friend, Hermione Granger. I’ll need you to give her clearance for tonight, Pennie.’

The nurse's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as she looked Hermione up and down. ‘Oh my,’ she whispered breathily. ‘I know who you are, of course. It’s so good to meet you, Miss Granger.’ Hermione cringed as she took Pennie’s outstretched hand and shook it, unsure whether Pennie’s response was related to her past or present fame.

‘I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting to see you again tonight.’ The nurse said, finally turning back to Malfoy. ‘The sedative we had to use earlier was very strong. I expect it will be in effect for several hours.’

‘That’s alright.’ Malfoy said, shifting Aurora off his shoulder and into the crook of his arm. ‘It will just be a brief visit. Can you please go ahead and clear Miss Granger’s wand? Thank you, Pennie’.

The nurse nodded quickly, recognising the request as the dismissal it was. She scurried back behind the desk and then called Hermione over, asking her to tap her wand between the pages of a large book as she recited an unfamiliar incantation.
Malfoy seemingly needed no such clearance, he waited silently while Hermione’s wand was processed before turning and motioning for her to follow him down a large, darkened corridor, striding away with Aurora nestled in the crook of his arm.

Hermione’s shoes scuffed on the shining hardwood floors as she followed behind, the sound echoing loudly in the hush of the silent hospital.

They turned down several winding corridors until Malfoy finally stopped outside a heavily warded, magically reinforced wooden door.
He turned to face her for the first time since they’d left her flat, grey eyes finally meeting hers. He looked sixteen again, so much like the terrified young boy Hermione remembered from their school days, anxious and uncertain, desperately alone.

But Malfoy wasn’t alone. Whatever lay on the other side of that door, Hermione was at his side, and he’d brought her there for a reason.
Without hesitation, she reached for his hand, quickly finding his own searching the space between them. Their fingers intertwined, gripping tightly. Malfoy squeezed Hermione’s hand like she was an anchor, the only thing keeping him from floating away on the tide.
With a final deep breath, he swished his wand and disarmed the wards before pushing open the door, and together they stepped inside the silent room.

Malfoy moved towards the bed, and Hermione went with him, tugged in that direction by the hand still holding tightly onto hers.

The small huddled figure under the blankets was instantly recognisable by the white stripe in her otherwise greying hair, fragile but still somehow beautiful, even with the long scratches that marred her cheeks, her undeniable genes passed on to both the son who stood before her, and her baby granddaughter, clutched tightly in her father’s arms.
Hermione felt tears spring into her eyes as she watched Draco bend to place a small, tender kiss on his mother’s forehead, his eyes filled with love. It was so reminiscent of the way he treated Aurora, his gaze reverent and protective as he gently swept back a few strands of Narcissa’s thin, cottony hair.

‘Hiya mum,’ he murmured, even though Narcissa clearly couldn’t hear him. ‘We’re back.’

Hermione wasn’t expecting Narcissa’s eyes to drift open a few seconds later, the blue of her irises hazy, her pupils swollen and unfocused with the effects of whatever sedative potion she was floating on. She shifted a little on the bed, and it was only then that Hermione realised that her movements were restricted as she recognised the spell that shimmered around Narcissa, a gentle version of the body bind they sometimes used at Saint Mungo’s when they didn’t want a patient to hurt themselves.

‘Draco?’ Narcissa’s voice was thin and scratchy, like she’d been screaming, although she was peaceful now. ‘What are you…Did they call you again? Did I do something? I’m.. sorry, darling.’

‘No, mum.’ He replied. ’Don’t say sorry. You know I’m always happy to come when they call me. But that’s not why we’re here. I wanted to see you, that’s all. I brought a friend, too.’

Narcissa smiled, blinking slowly as she attempted to focus on Hermione’s face.
‘Hello, dear.’ The syllables were slurred, her lips barely parting around them. ‘You must be the one Draco has been telling me about. The pretty healer who’s been helping him with Aurora.’

Malfoy barked out a cough. He straightened. ‘Mum-‘ he began. ‘You already know her. I told you, this is-‘ but Narcissa continued speaking, almost as though she couldn’t hear him.

‘You remind me of someone.’ She murmured vaguely. ‘That Muggleborn girl Draco was so infatuated with in school.’ She suddenly let out a laugh, high- pitched and slightly hysterical. ‘His father would never have allowed it, of course, even if he hadn’t already been betrothed to poor Astoria. Draco insisted he was only interested in that girl’s academic ability, certain that she must have been cheating to rival him in all of their classes, but I knew that wasn’t true. A mother always knows her son.’ Narcissa suddenly looked sad, her blue eyes growing misty. ‘It was a terrible thing, what my sister did to that girl later on. We all felt just awful about it…What was she called, Draco? You must remember her, Harry Potter’s friend?’

Malfoy looked absolutely horrified, his eyes darting between Narcissa and Hermione, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as a fierce blush spread up his neck and onto his cheeks. Hermione’s heart began to pound again. She looked at Narcissa, who had appeared to drift back off to sleep.

Malfoy relaxed slightly, his shoulders slumping.
‘Erm..’ he began, but Narcissa suddenly opened her eyes again, turning to squint at Hermione. ‘That’s it!’ She cried enthusiastically, making Hermione and Malfoy both jump, Aurora twitching restlessly in his arms.
‘You look just like her, only your hair is less frizzy… Helena…no…Hermione. Hermione Granger, that was her name. That’s who you remind me of.’

Chapter Text

The silence in the car was deafening.

After making her shocking declaration, Narcissa Malfoy had smiled softly as she drifted off to sleep, peaceful now that she’d remembered the name of the girl her son had been infatuated with at school.

Infatuated.

The word repeated in Hermione’s head on a refrain as Malfoy drove them away from The Grove, joining the constant echoes of Draco’s own words, already waiting in the recesses of her psyche where she’d tried to bury them.

‘You’re everything I thought you were.’

‘You aren’t less.’

‘I can think of a thousand other words that define who you are, but none of them could ever even begin to do you justice.’

She risked a sideways glance at Malfoy, who was staring ahead at the road, unblinking, his expression reminiscent of a man trying desperately not to vomit.

‘Thank you,’ she began tentatively, knowing that she’d need to be the one to break the awkward silence between them. ‘Thank you for letting me into this part of your life. I know that it must have been difficult.’
Feeling somewhat reckless, she reached over to put what she hoped was a comforting hand on his knee. Malfoy flinched at the contact, but then seemed to forcibly relax, taking his own hand off the wheel to reach down and cover hers. He didn’t say anything, and Hermione wondered how much he regretted taking her to meet Narcissa.

‘I’m so sorry about your mum.’ She continued. ‘I’m sorry you have so much to deal with.’

He swallowed hard, turning to glance at her before quickly flicking his eyes back to the road. ‘It’s alright.’ He shrugged, although Hermione was positive, after the way he’d arrived at her door earlier that night, that it definitely was not alright. ‘She’s been this way for such a long time now that I can barely even remember what she was like before.’

‘Does she have GMD?’ Hermione asked gently, having picked up on some of the symptoms Narcissa was displaying. Geriatric Magical Declination was a form of dementia often seen in the magical world, although usually in people far, far older than Narcissa Malfoy.

Malfoy grimaced. ‘Of a sort.’ He frowned for a moment before pressing on. ‘After I got married and my father died, my mother was alone a lot. She… she wasn't doing well, and she attempted to Obliviate herself. She wanted to get rid of certain… memories. But…it went wrong. She didn’t complete the spell. It left her with some cognitive damage, which can make her magic hard to control. Sometimes she’s lucid, but other times, she forgets where she is, who she is. She misremembers things.’

He’d said the last words meaningfully, and despite herself, Hermione’s heart sank. Malfoy was telling her, very clearly, that Narcissa often said things that weren’t true. She didn’t know why the confirmation hurt so much, why she’d even believed for a second that Malfoy might have had feelings for her at school. Of course he hadn’t. He’d just hated her for beating his grades. That made a lot more sense, of course.

‘Initially, there was hope for recovery.’ Malfoy continued, unaware of Hermione’s inner turmoil. ‘I had some of the most esteemed healers in the magical world looking for a way to reverse the Obliviation. But it’s been nearly ten years now, and she’s no better. Sometimes she gets scared and forgets where she is. When that happens, her magic goes crazy. She can be dangerous. When she really loses it, the only thing that can calm her is me. I-I use my Legillimency to get inside her head and talk her down from the inside…I’m gentle.’ He clarified, as though Hermione might doubt for a second that he would be. ‘I don’t hurt her. I just remind her where she is, that she’s safe. It calms her enough so that the Healers don’t have to stun her. I don’t like it when they do that.’

Hermione listened silently, her heart aching once again for Malfoy.

‘It’s harder now that I have Aurora.’ He said, turning off the motorway and heading towards the city. ‘I can’t just Apparate straight there when they call me. Mum was…’ his voice cracked slightly. ‘She was in a bad way when I arrived earlier. It’s- it’s really hard to see her so distressed. I try to tell myself that most of the time, she seems happy enough at The Grove. Happier than she was at the manor anyway, and much safer.’

‘You’re doing the right thing.’ Hermione told him with absolute conviction. ‘Sometimes we have to make difficult choices to keep the people we love safe. Even if it hurts us to do it.’

Malfoy looked sideways at her, clearly picking up on her tone. He waited, and without planning to Hermione suddenly found herself saying something she’d only ever admitted to her closest friends.
‘I… I actually Obliviated my own parents.’ She said shakily, hating the way the words sounded coming out of her mouth. ‘Thirteen years ago… I didn’t want them to become collateral in a war they didn’t understand, and I didn't want them to become a target as a way to get to me. Th-they live in Australia now. They don’t remember me, don’t remember they had a daughter at all.’
Malfoy had gone still, the hand that covered hers squeezing tighter.

‘Granger,’ he breathed. ‘Fuck. I'm sorry…I had no idea.’

Hermione felt tears spring into her eyes, her mouth suddenly dry. She hadn’t spoken about her parents in a very long time, not even with Harry - It was too painful.

‘Have you seen them since?’ Malfoy asked gently, the sensation of his thumb rubbing slowly over the back of her hand more comforting than Hermione thought he knew.

‘Once.’ She nodded. ‘Harry and I took a trip about five years ago. I’d finally had to accept that there was no safe way to reverse an Obliviation, but I thought, maybe they’d see me and they’d somehow know. I thought I could stage an accidental meeting, find a way to insert myself into their lives so that eventually, I could tell them who I really was.’

She blinked at the blurry lights passing by the windscreen. ‘But when I saw them, they looked so healthy and so happy that I just… I had to let them live. I didn’t l want to do anything that might inadvertently hurt them or cause them any distress. So I didn’t talk to them, I didn’t let them see me. I just came home and had to accept the fact that I no longer have any family…at all.’

Hermione didn’t even realise Malfoy was pulling the car over until he was reaching across the seat for her, gathering her towards him. She melted immediately into the embrace, too sad not to let herself give into his warmth, his clean scent, the almost unbearable rightness of being cocooned within his arms, so strong but so gentle. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured quietly, his fingers smoothing over her hair, his face pressed into the top of her head.‘I’m so sorry, Granger. You’re so fucking brave. You did the right thing too.’

Hermione closed her eyes against his chest and let Malfoy comfort her, dimly aware of the complete reversal of their roles from earlier that night. She had never intended to divulge something so deeply personal, but Draco had been so vulnerable with her over the past few hours, he felt like the only person she wanted to tell, the only person she wanted full stop.

When she finally managed to pull away, Hermione looked out of the window to find that they were parked up in a side street just a few hundred metres from her flat. Malfoy hadn’t waited to complete the journey. He’d known she needed his comfort there and then. The realisation made her heart hurt, aching with all the ways she just wanted more and more from him, so much that wasn’t hers to take.

He waited patiently for her to calm down before restarting the car and less than a minute later they were pulling up smoothly into the parking space outside the flat.
‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ He asked, dragging up the handbrake and turning to look at her.

Hermione nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make that about me. You were trying to tell me about your mum.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He frowned. ‘There was nothing more to tell, and anyway, I can't always be the saddest bastard. Also…’ he peered at her from under a furrowed brow. ‘It sort of felt like you’ve been holding on to that for a long time.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Too long. I-I find it very difficult to talk about. Most of the time, I know I did the right thing, but it doesn't stop me from missing them terribly. It’s a strange feeling, mourning someone who’s still alive, you know?’

He didn’t respond, and Hermione realised that he did know. He probably understood better than anyone.

With the engine off, Aurora began to stir, squirming in her car seat for a few seconds before letting out a small, unhappy cry.

‘Shit.’ Malfoy glanced up at the glowing light on the dash. ‘She’s overdue for a feed. Probably a nappy change too.’

‘Bring her up to the flat,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘You can change and feed her there.’

Malfoy looked doubtful. ‘It’s only another few minutes to the Penthouse from here,’ he said, wincing as Aurora let out another plaintive cry.

‘What about Harry and Theo? They’ll be at the Penthouse.’

Malfoy opened his mouth and closed it again. ‘It’s three am,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’m sure they’ll be… finished by now, won’t they?’

‘Can you guarantee that?’ Hermione raised a brow. ‘It’s their first date. What if you walk in right in the middle of the action? They left here talking about the jacuzzi. What if you accidentally get an eyeful of Theo’s bare bum… or Harry’s?’
Malfoy almost choked, visibly recoiling in horror as Hermione giggled.

‘Gods.’ He muttered. ‘You’re right. I can’t go back to the Penthouse.’

Hermione shrugged, unable to hide her pleased smile. ‘Well, you’ll have to come in then, won’t you?’

In her usual fashion, by the time they got up to the flat, Aurora had ramped up rapidly from 0-100 and was now sobbing loudly from her car seat, her face pink and screwed up. ‘It’s alright, my girl,’ Malfoy muttered, casting a silencing charm on the hallway as Hermione fumbled for her wand to unlock the door. ‘Daddy will feed you in just one second.’

Hermione eventually got the door open and they dived into the flat, Malfoy immediately dropping to his knees to unclick Aurora from the car seat. He pulled the screaming baby out and held her to his chest, clearly flustered by the volume of her cries.

‘Can I help?’ Hermione offered.

‘Nope.’ He didn’t look at her, beginning to root around in the baby bag while holding Aurora’s writhing body with his other arm. ‘I’m good.’

The brusqueness of his tone stung a little, but Hermione knew him well enough by now to understand this was how Malfoy got when Aurora was unhappy. He hated it.

‘Bollocks.’ He hissed. ‘I think I left her bottle in the car. I’ll need to go and fetch it.’

‘Don’t panic.’ Hermione reached for Aurora. ‘I’m here. I can wait with her for a moment.’

He dithered for a beat before nodding. ‘Okay. If you don’t mind.’
He handed Aurora to her carefully, pulling an apologetic face as she cried even louder, puce with indignation at the fact someone other than her father was holding her.

‘My goodness, Aurora,’ Hermione crooned. ‘You are fierce, aren’t you. Don’t worry, Daddy won’t be long.’ She rocked the baby gently, moving her up onto her shoulder and rubbing her back in slow soothing strokes.

Malfoy leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Aurora’s hot, red cheek. ‘I’ll be quick.’ He promised and then Disapparated with an alarmingly loud crack and a small twist of black smoke.

Hermione blinked at the empty space he’d occupied, realising that she’d never seen Malfoy Apparate before. It was… aggressive. Within seconds he was back, appearing in the same space with a full bottle of milk and a lilac muslin cloth.

He removed the stasis charm from the bottle and reached for Aurora, gently transferring her from Hermione’s arms into his own as he guided the teat to her mouth. Aurora latched on instantly, taking the milk down in huge, greedy gulps, her silver eyes still filled with tears. Hermione watched as Aurora reached up to clutch at the bottle over the top of Malfoy’s steadying hand and the size difference between their fingers made her heart squeeze.

He dropped to sit next to Hermione on the sofa, kissing away the wetness on Aurora’s cheeks and murmuring low, soothing words against the shell of her ear until slowly, the baby began to calm, her little chest hitching.

The room grew peaceful, the silence broken only by the buzzing of Hermione’s ancient fridgefreezer and Aurora’s enthusiastic gulps as she drained her bottle, her pink socked feet kneading into Hermione’s elbow where they poked over the side of her father’s bicep.

When she’d finished her bottle, Malfoy gently sat Aurora up on his lap, supporting her loosely under her chin with the burp cloth while he rubbed her back in slow circular motions. Now that her tummy was full, the baby seemed quite content, gurgling to herself and grabbing at her feet. She managed to pull one pink sock off in short order, grasping it in her fist and aiming it straight for her mouth.
‘Oh no, socks aren’t for eating, my darling.’ Malfoy smiled affectionately, intercepting the sock from her fist with the air of a man who had done the same thing many times before. He tucked the sock into his pocket and leaned down to pull a small rubber giraffe out from the baby bag instead. 
‘Tu veux Sophie la girafe?’ He helped Aurora to coordinate her grip around the chew toy, guiding it carefully to her mouth where she eagerly began gumming down, gripping the giraffe tightly in dribble-soaked fingers.

They both watched her for a moment, Hermione smiling as Aurora grinned at her around her chew toy, Malfoy’s thumbs rubbing gently over Aurora’s leggings as he held her on his lap, resting his chin lightly on the fuzz of her blonde hair and watching the two of them interact.

Finally, Hermione raised her gaze to his, their eyes meeting for the first time since arriving back at the flat. His expression was pained again, almost as if it hurt him to look at her.
‘Draco,’ she began, at the exact same time that Malfoy said….’Granger, I-‘
She waited, looking up at him expectantly, but he seemed to be at a loss as to whatever came next. 

‘Umm…coffee?’ She suggested, giving him an out. ‘Or, are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich?’

He grinned, clearly grateful for the reprieve. ‘I’ll never refuse one of your sandwiches, Granger. Not even at three am.’

Hermione was powerless not to smile back, the crinkles at the sides of Malfoy’s eyes slowly becoming her kryptonite.
She left him to change Aurora while she made the sandwiches, and by the time she returned to the sofa, the baby was clean and changed into a set of soft pink, floral print pyjamas.
Malfoy had moved to lie on his back on the floor, holding Aurora above his head and making her squeal with excitement as he lowered her carefully towards his face and blew raspberries onto her belly. Aurora giggled with delight, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds Hermione had ever heard, Malfoy’s answering rumble of laughter threatening to become a close second. She sipped her coffee and watched them together, her chest tight with something she couldn’t define.

Eventually, he sat up, effortlessly transfiguring the car seat into a small crib, and after several minutes of kisses and cuddles, he lay Aurora gently on her back inside. He tucked her blanket tightly around her and then rocked the crib slowly with one foot as he sipped his coffee and ate his sandwich. ‘Jesus Christ, it’s even better than I remember.’ He mumbled, groaning with pleasure after each ravenous bite as though he hadn’t eaten all day. Hermione thought, knowing Malfoy, he probably hadn’t.

She watched him finish up and took his plate, levitating it to the sink as Malfoy let his head drop onto the back of the sofa, his eyes falling closed as a small, satisfied smile spread across his face. Once again, body heat radiated steadily from him, and as she let herself relax against his side, Hermione slowly became aware that the warmth she could feel through his clothes was possibly more body heat than was strictly normal.
Now, with the right lighting, and time to really really look at him, she could see exactly how pale he was, the dark shadows carved deeply under his eyes.
Frowning, she reached a hand up to press the back of it against his forehead. He twitched, and before she could make contact, long, hot fingers were wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand away. He opened his eyes to appraise her suspiciously.

‘What are you doing, Granger?’

‘You’ve got a temperature.’ Hermione hissed, mortified that she hadn’t noticed sooner. ‘You’re burning up.’

He began pulling away, moving to stand, but Hermione shot out her own hand, curling it in the front of his jumper and pulling him back down. He swore as he unbalanced, thumping onto the sofa next to her.
‘I’m too tired to fight with you again.’ He groaned. ‘It’s nearly four o'clock in the morning. I have to take my daughter home.’

‘You can take Aurora home, Draco.’ She replied evenly. ‘As soon as you’ve let me heal you. That’s the whole reason you came here in the first place isn’t it? It’s practically morning anyway. What difference does it make?’

He huffed. ‘You’re a bloody menace -’

Hermione huffed, rising from the sofa to point a finger at his chest. ‘Stay.’

Malfoy’s eyes went wide, his breath catching in his throat. Hermione hesitated, unsure if she’d gone too far, but he just swallowed thickly and nodded.

She dashed to the cupboard where she’d stored what she thought she’d need to treat the scar before Malfoy had arrived, gathering it quickly and returning to the sofa, half expecting him to have already grabbed Aurora and bolted.

He was still there, watching her with exhausted grey eyes, his expression wary.
Hermione forced herself to swallow a ‘good boy,’ certain that would be a step too far.

He watched silently as she sat down and opened up her medical bag on the small coffee table in front of them, taking out the things she’d prepared earlier - gauze, Dittany, cotton swabs and pain relief potion.
Leaning forwards, he pushed away the vial of pain relief, shaking his head. ‘No potions. Remember, I don’t take anything now I have Aurora.’
Hermione sighed, taking the vial from the table and sliding it back into the medical case without comment. They both knew a simple pain relief potion would do nothing to impair Malfoy’s ability to look after Aurora, but she didn’t want to do or say anything that might spook him.

‘Okay,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you ready? This won’t take long, and then you can go home.’

He sat up straighter, his eyes darting to Aurora, who was sleeping peacefully, the monitoring charms he’d cast glowing brightly above her head.

‘Draco?’

She watched his Adam’s apple bob, his expression reminding her of a rabbit in the headlights. Before he could change his mind, Hermione reached for his hand, sliding her own across the space between them to grasp his fingers.

Malfoy’s response to her touch was immediate, he stilled, his hand closing tightly around hers, eyes snapping to her face. ‘It’s okay,’ she promised. ‘We’ll go slow… I’ll be gentle with you.’ His eyes widened even further than before, the corner of his mouth twitching. Inexplicably though, he seemed to relax a little, blowing out a long breath.

‘Merlin, Granger… a-alright.’

He let go of her hand, reaching over his shoulder to pull his hoodie off in one tug, dragging it over his head and leaving his hair wild as he reappeared in just a soft grey fitted T-shirt. Hermione stiffened as she got her first look at his bare forearm, her stomach lurching violently as the truth of what Malfoy had been hiding came into view.

The soft expanse of his inner arm was mangled, each letter of the scar raw and vicious, much worse than it had been when Bellatrix first carved them into Hermione’s own skin.

His entire forearm was swollen and mottled, red lines of infection bleeding outwards down to his wrist and up to his elbow. She looked up at his face, realising for the first time the true power of Draco Malfoy’s inner strength. It went far beyond what she’d previously thought. He wasn’t just adept at hiding emotional pain. For him to have hidden this level of physical pain for days without potions nor Occlusion… it was just…
Hermione thought back to how he’d handled Aurora with ease, laying her over his arm casually, the way he’d hugged Hermione without flinching. There were no signs to indicate the agony he must have been in. She felt like she was going to cry, again.

Malfoy was watching her, his eyes narrowed. She tried her best to keep her emotions in check, to stop her tears from welling over as she cleared her dry throat. ‘Ridiculous man,’ she muttered and he smirked at that. Stomach swooping, Hermione suddenly found that she had to look away.

Hermione had healed plenty of people in her life, she’d been in emergency situations, her healing abilities the difference between life and death countless times.
But never had she felt anything even close to what she did now, sitting next to Draco Malfoy on her sofa as he watched her with cool grey eyes and she felt the warmth from his body, the sickly heat radiating from his infected forearm as she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand gently onto her lap.
Usually her patients were in a bed, not sitting opposite her and it made the angle slightly more difficult. Hermione needed to get closer to him in order to get his arm into position and so she shifted forwards as Malfoy turned towards her, bringing one knee up so that she could sit between his legs. She pulled his arm closer, resting it over her thigh. Malfoy had been pliant up to that point, letting her position him however she needed to, but he inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed her lower belly, fidgeting uncomfortably and pulling back a little.
‘Sit still.’ She murmured and he let out a soft laugh.

‘I’m trying to, I’m nervous.’

Hermione laughed too to cover her own terrible nerves. She was painfully aware of how close their faces were, Malfoy’s blonde fringe tickling her face as he bent his head to watch her.

‘I’m going to try and draw some of the infection out first,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘It might sting a tiny bit.’ Malfoy nodded, swallowing noisily as his eyes slid up to hers, wide and grey and beautiful.

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘I trust you.’

Hermione’s stomach plummeted.

The tip of her wand trembled when she first placed it against his skin, terrified to hurt him any more than he must already be hurting.
Malfoy closed his eyes and somehow that was easier.
Hermione closed her own eyes so she didn’t have to look at the mess of his arm as she began to recite the incantation she needed, moving her wand instinctively along the first line in the scrawled letters she knew the exact shape of intimately, without having to see them.

He sucked in a breath as she felt the pull of the spell beginning to work, his fingers flexing against her belly.
Hermione paused, her heart pounding as she looked up at him. He was already trembling, small beads of sweat standing out at his temples. Something was wrong. The spell shouldn’t hurt that much, not straight away and certainly not alongside the pain minimising charm she’d simultaneously cast.
‘Draco?’ She whispered. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yep,’ he gritted out. ‘It’s just the Black magic being cunty. I’m fine.’ Hermione waited, uncertain.

‘Keep going.’ He urged, and Hermione grit her teeth and nodded. forcing herself to continue moving her wand over the violent slashes of each letter.

D…O...O...L...B

As her wand slowly began trailing over the round curve of the B, Malfoy let out a small whimper, the sound forced through his teeth. Hermione stopped, glancing up at him.
His head was tipped back, the runes below his ear pulled taut over the straining tendons in his throat, his pulse fluttering rapidly.

‘I’m almost done.’ She promised. ‘I’m sorry.’

D….U

He screwed his eyes shut as she began on the M, one tear slowly squeezing out from the corner of his eye and trailing down his cheek. Hermione so desperately wanted to stop and wipe the tear away, but Malfoy needed her to finish. Her scar was poisoning him.
She forced herself to continue, moving her hand up, down, up and finally down again over the M, her wand vibrating with the power of the malevolent, dark magic that was reacting so violently with Malfoy’s blood.
She could feel it fighting her, trying to writhe away from her wand tip and back into his body. Gritting her own teeth, Hermione concentrated her magic, envisioning it pouring into the wound and through Malfoy’s veins, wrapping around the burning heat of Bellatrix’s curse, cool and good and powerful in its own way.
Gently but firmly, Hermione pulled her wand back, pulling the infection with it. One more tug of resistance, and then there was a release, finally some give, as the curse let go of Malfoy’s body and the infection was pulled into her wand.

With a gasp of relief, Hermione dropped the wand onto the sofa, and Malfoy immediately leaned forward, almost bent in half, panting raggedly as he groaned into her lap.

‘I’m so sorry, Draco,’ she whispered, petting over his hair with a trembling hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would hurt so badly.’

‘No,’ he gasped, breathing like he’d run a marathon. ‘It’s good, I feel better. I just - I just need a sec.’
Hermione waited as he panted a moment longer before eventually pushing himself into a slumped sitting position so she could get a good look at his arm.
Already, it appeared so much better, the swelling reduced, the threads of infection pulled back inwards. ‘Bloody hell,’ he murmured, looking down at his arm. ‘You actually did it.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione breathed, caught short by the disbelief in his tone. ‘You didn’t think I could?’

He laughed and there was already much more colour in his face, his eyes bright despite the purple bruises from his football tussle still shadowing underneath them. ‘Well-‘ he began. ‘It’s not that exactly… it’s just…I expected the curse to fight you more than it did, that’s all.’ He shook his head, looking down at the soft skin between each letter. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. You really are incredible in every way, aren’t you?’

Hermione didn’t know what to say to that.

They sat silently for a moment while Malfoy lay back to catch his breath and Hermione forced herself to stop shaking.

‘Right,’ he said eventually, slapping his knees. ‘I really had better get this little lady home.’ He rose to stand, taking one wobbly step before his whole body lurched backwards and he dropped heavily back down onto the sofa, looking surprised.

‘Shit.’ He frowned. ‘Sorry.’ He began pushing down on the cushions so he could attempt to stand again. This time Hermione had to steady him, taking hold of his elbow as he wobbled precariously, almost overbalancing and taking Hermione out with him. ‘For fucks sake.’ He sighed, slumping back down. ‘What's this now?’

‘Draco,’ Hermione said gently. ‘The type of healing you just endured is very draining on your body’s resources. It’s five am. I think you might need to rest before you do anything else.’

He opened bloodshot eyes to look over at Aurora who was dozing peacefully in the cot. ‘I do feel a bit weird…’ he admitted. ’A bit… spinny, like that time I passed out at the hospital.’
Hermione nodded, Malfoy was showing all signs of a magical drain - his body had been subconsciously battling her as the scar resisted her healing magic. Combine that with the fact that he’d had absolutely no sleep for twenty four hours and there was no way he would want to take his precious baby anywhere near a car.

‘Why don’t you stay an hour or two, Draco? Sleep on the sofa.’

He frowned. ‘Really?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Harry hasn’t come home and it’s nearly morning. I really don’t think you’re safe to be driving yet.’

Malfoy’s eyes were already fighting to close. ‘But…Aurora.’ He murmured groggily.

‘She’s right here.’ Hermione soothed. ‘She’s safe and she’s fast asleep. Just relax. I won’t leave either of you.’

Giving in, he slumped against her, his body going lax. ‘Mmkay, Granger.’ The words were mumbled. ‘Healer’s orders then. If you think... Just.. just five…minutes...’

Hermione smiled, thinking about what Theo had said about Malfoy always doing what she told him to. She patted his arm gently. ‘Good boy.’

He snorted, but relaxed further, dropping his head onto her shoulder. Hermione waited, listening as his breathing began to even out, his body becoming heavier and heavier, his hands unclenching from where they’d been fisted on his thighs.

‘I’ll be back.’ She whispered, lifting his head and wriggling out gingerly from underneath him. She dimmed the lights before leaving to fetch the warm blankets she kept at the end of her bed, quickly stopping off to brush her teeth and change into her own pyjamas.

By the time she returned, Malfoy had turned onto his side, his body curved inwards, his knees bent. One hand lay cushioned beneath his head, the other rested between the bars of Aurora’s crib, which he’d pulled closer to the sofa so that his face was level with hers.

Aurora had also turned onto her side, one hand curled tightly around her father’s index finger. Both Malfoys were fast asleep, breathing peacefully in tandem.
The pang in Hermione’s chest was painful.  
With a wistful sigh she very gently tucked Aurora’s blanket under her arms and then, unable to stop herself, she bent and carefully smoothed Draco’s hair away from his face, planting a soft, tender kiss on his cheek.

He stirred. ‘Granger?’

Hermione froze, waiting. He went silent for so long that she thought she must have imagined it. She turned and began padding towards her bedroom.

‘I meant what I said, you know.’

She turned. Malfoy’s eyes were still shut, the words mumbled so that Hermione had to move back towards him so she could hear. ‘What did you mean, Draco?’ She whispered.

‘Krum…’ The name was so quiet she had to bend over him, her hair falling in a curtain over his face. ‘If he ever does anything to hurt you… I’ll fucking kill him.’

Hermione’s heart beat so loudly in her chest that she was surprised Malfoy couldn’t hear it. She blinked into the darkness, her hands gripping the arm of the sofa tightly.

‘Draco,’ she whispered. ‘Viktor… We aren’t… he’s not...’

But Malfoy couldn’t hear her. He’d fallen fast asleep, his breathing slow and even as his body relaxed and his mouth grew soft, his bottom lip pouting gently in an exact mirror of the beautiful baby girl sleeping next to him.

Hermione stepped back, her pulse fluttering frantically. Why did it feel so important that Malfoy knew she wasn’t with Viktor? What did she expect him to do with that information?
She looked down at him once more, at the pale fall of blonde hair spread over the cushion, the long lashes splayed over pale cheeks, then down to the hand his daughter held, his platinum wedding band gleaming in the moonlight.

Hermione shook her head, forcing herself to turn back towards her bedroom.
No matter what she was beginning to feel, whatever this inexplicable pull was between them, Draco Malfoy was not someone she could let herself want.

Because, as long as he wore that ring on his finger, Malfoy still belonged to Astoria, whether he knew it or not.