Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you've never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you're not, I hope you have the courage to start over again.” F. Scott Fitsgerald

Chapter 1

Friday, October 4th

The bell above the pub door chimed loudly as Hermione rushed inside, anxious to avoid getting drenched in the downpour that had just begun. She looked around, pleasantly surprised to find that it was exactly the type of place she’d been on the lookout for. She’d been wandering the little village for upwards of an hour, taking in the shops and enjoying the autumn chill that swept the newly turning leaves along the street and left the tips of her fingers tingling. The breeze had been refreshing at first, but now that her toes were beginning to go numb, she was ready to be inside and out of the cold. 

Hermione knew instantly that she could easily whittle away the hours in such a cozy, eclectic little pub. With its tall ceilings, bay windows and array of comfortable armchairs and old wooden tables, she guessed that it must be one of the many historic public houses that were scattered throughout the Cotswolds. She realized suddenly that she could spend hours here if she wanted to. Why shouldn’t she? She had nowhere to be, nothing in particular to accomplish. 

The pub was deliciously warm, with a large fire in the hearth and the smell of a freshly baked apple pie coming from the kitchen. She shed her coat and took a look at the other patrons - an elderly woman knitting in an armchair by the fire; a businessman about her age sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey and reading the paper; a college student hunched over her books, furiously taking notes. There were a handful of people occupying the tables - eating a late lunch or working on their laptops. The waitress that stood behind the bar wrapping silverware glanced up at her as she made her way to a cozy window seat with a view of the town square.

“Be right with you, Maam.”

Hermione nodded and sunk into the leather chair, watching as the rain hammered against the window. She sighed deeply and forced her racing mind to still for what felt like the thousandth time that day. 

The truth was that she simply was not used to being on Holiday. She felt as though she wasn’t built for it. Granted, she knew that she needed a break from her routine, a chance to get out of her everyday life and work through some things…..but it just felt like too much time alone with her thoughts. 

It was easy to get lost in them, to let them spin out of control. Sadness and anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, and each time she pushed everything down, it felt harder and harder to do.

But she wasn’t about to have a breakdown in a pub, so she pushed down the emotion that threatened to bubble over, placed her order with the waitress, and pulled out a well-worn novel to pass the time. 

She had all the time in the world, after all. 

***

It had taken some strong mental willpower, but after a few minutes, Hermione was able to quiet her racing thoughts. She focused on her reading; on the rich, steaming latte that the waitress had brought over with a beautiful leaf design on the top. She immersed herself in her book but looked up after about an hour to see that the rain had stopped, if only for a few minutes. She was hesitant to leave the warmth of the pub for the quiet chill of the cottage that she had rented. It was just down the road, but it felt a million miles away - especially when she was so cozy and warm. 

Making the decision to stay a little longer, she ambled over to the bar to order another drink. She sat several seats away from the businessman, who now had a laptop open and was picking at a slice of apple pie. He looked strangely familiar from the corner of her eye, but she couldn't quite place how she knew him. 

“Is the pie any good?” She asked casually, genuinely curious. 

“Ya, it’s - Granger?” The man turned towards her and his identity hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“Malfoy?” She gaped in surprise. Now that she was looking directly at him, there was no mistaking it. He looked entirely different than the last time she had seen him. She stood and moved to the stool next to him. 

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Her eyes swept over him, taking in all the ways he’d changed. His hair had grown a bit darker with age, and he wore it in a very devil may care way -  shaggy, hanging around his ears and into his eyes - yet still extremely stylish. His eyes were still the same silvery grey but highlighted with a pair of distinguished, black-framed glasses. He had always been tall and a bit gangly, all sharp angles and aggressive expressions, but now he had soft smile lines around his mouth and two-day-old scruff across his chin that suited him. 

This was no longer the same boy that she’d known over a decade ago. 

Her eyes scanned down his body, impressed with what she saw. His shoulders were broad and she could see the way his muscles rippled beneath the plaid button-down he wore. He had his cuffs rolled up to the elbow, with both forearms covered in tattoos. He wore a pair of dark jeans and waterproof boots, a rain jacket draped over the back of his chair. 

To say that he had aged well would have been putting it mildly. 

A muggle outfit, an expensive muggle watch on his wrist, sitting in a muggle pub, working on a muggle laptop? She almost couldn’t believe her eyes. 

“Hehem. My eyes are up here Granger.” Draco commented dryly, and she quickly looked up, embarrassed at having been caught giving him a once over. She thanked the universe that she had worn a cute outfit and makeup that day. If she had run into Malfoy wearing old sweats, sporting red-rimmed eyes, she would never have forgiven herself.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account, Granger. Please do continue checking me out to your heart’s content.” She sputtered and he laughed. His eyes sparkled delightedly, and really - had he always had such a wonderful laugh? 

“Malfoy - I’m just...I’m….” She waved her hands, trying to come up with something to say - anything - to save her from the utter embarrassment that she was currently experiencing. She spluttered and couldn’t even manage to close her mouth, which was still hanging open.

“My God, I’ve rendered the Great Hermione Granger speechless. Now that is a compliment.” He laughed and she could feel her cheeks grow hot. Unfortunately for her, the waitress chose that moment to return to the bar and ask her what she wanted. Hermione simply stared at the waitress, her brain completely short-circuiting, and an awkwardly long pause stretched out between them. 

“We’ll both have a glass of Glenfiddich, and she’ll have a piece of the pie, please. Put it on my tab. Thanks, Emma.” The waitress - Emma - raised her eyebrows at the pair of them but smiled and went to work pouring their drinks. Hermione turned back to him and gave him an awkward grin. 

“Thanks for that. I am just completely shocked to see you here.” Malfoy merely took a bite of his pie and nodded. 

“Well, I live just down the street, so it really should be me that’s shocked to see you here.”

“Wait, you live here? Also, you’re working on a laptop ? What happened and what have you done with Pureblood Prince Draco Malfoy?” She questioned, taking a long sip of the whiskey the waitress had brought her. She coughed a bit and he chuckled at her, not unkindly. 

“I think you’ll be happy to hear that Pureblood Prince Draco Malfoy has been dead and buried for years now. And yes, I sit on the board of Malfoy Industries and help manage our muggle investments, so I use a laptop. I even have a cell phone .” He whispered conspiratorially and Hermione laughed. She was immediately impressed - very few witches and wizards could - or even wanted to - operate muggle devices. Hermione took a bite of her pie and nodded, digesting this unexpected information. 

“And you live in the Cotswolds? It’s a bit far to commute to London from here.” 

“I do most of my work online and by phone, so I rarely have to go into the office. We - my ex and I, I mean - lived in the Manor until our divorce a couple of years ago. I tried out a flat in London for a bit but it just didn’t suit. Needed a slower pace...But, enough about me. What brings you to the Cotswolds?” She saw him adjust his watch band a little nervously like he was afraid he’d said too much. She marveled at this information - Purebloods, especially Sacred 28 Purebloods - did not get divorced. She wondered what the story was there, but not wishing to appear nosy, she let it drop. Hermione heaved a sigh and took a long sip from her glass, draining it and signaling for another. 

“My friends kept insisting I needed a holiday, so I finally decided to give it a shot. It also felt like the right time to just ...get away for awhile” 

“Terrorizing everyone, were you?” They both laughed and he winked at her.  A shiver ran down her spine and she busied her hands with another bite of pie. 

“So what’s your opinion so far? Any plans for while you’re here?” He asked politely. 

“Well I just got here yesterday afternoon, and I was planning on getting some work done but no luck yet. In fact, I've been thinking about heading home tomorrow.” Draco nearly choked in surprise and let out a singularly loud guffaw.  

“We made quite an impression on you then, have we? You hated it so much you’re leaving after one day? And also, what’s this about working during your holiday anyway?”

“I’m a writer - I’m guessing you knew that?” He nodded in understanding. “So I was hoping to get started on the next novel that my publisher is demanding, but I’ve had a terrible case of writer’s block. I’m usually quite good at doing trips on my own...but it’s been difficult this time for a….a few reasons. But the change of scenery hasn’t done any good for my work yet, so-”

“I see. And you’ve determined this after only 24 hours?” He turned to her with an eyebrow raised and fixed her with a stare that was so reminiscent of Severus Snape that she almost flinched. 

“Well...um…” She spluttered, and although he ducked his head and tried to hide the grin that brightened his face, she caught it anyway. 

Instead of embarrassing her further by commenting on her inability to put two coherent thoughts together, he simply finished the last bite of his pie while fishing some bills out of his wallet and tossing them on the bar. 

“Listen, I’m expecting a business call in a few - oh bugger here he is - Hey Greg, ya I-” He mouthed sorry to her and turned away, taking the call. 

Hermione leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The whiskey had calmed her nerves a bit but she still couldn’t believe that she was sitting in a muggle pub speaking with Draco Malfoy, of all people. 

“Sorry about that, Hermione.” He stood and shrugged on a coat, packed up his laptop and pulled out a business card. Hermione’s brain stuttered again at the casual way he said her name. Hermione. She’d always been Granger to him, but it would make sense that this new man would have a different name for her as well. She quite liked the sound of it rolling off his tongue.

“I’ve actually got to get going, but here’s my card if you change your mind about leaving. I’d love to do some more catching up.” He handed her the card and winked at her once more before striding purposely out the door, the bell chiming loudly in his wake. She looked down at the muggle business card, which had a cell number as well as an email address. Still reeling from the experience, she drained her whiskey and ordered another before returning to her chair by the window. 

Afternoon slid into evening and her book sat forgotten on the little table beside her. She listened to the chatter of other patrons as the pub grew busy, and watched the passerby hurrying along to get out of the rain; all the while trying to reconcile the man she had just met with the boy that she hadn’t seen in over 13 years. 

Eventually, she grew tired and she forced herself to troop back into the cold. 

She walked briskly through the town and down the road to the quaint little cottage she was supposed to be inhabiting over the next several months. 

She lit a fire in the hearth, slid on her favorite pair of flannel pajamas and curled up on the couch. Normally she would spend her evening reading, or watching the telly, or chatting with a friend on the phone, but none of those things even occurred to her. Instead, she sat and watched the flames, and listened to the patter of rain until the early hours of the morning, her mind filled with the echoes of her past. 

Chapter Text

The wound is the place where the Light enters you. - Rumi

Chapter 2

Saturday, October 5th 

By the time the sun began to rise the morning after Hermione’s run-in with Draco Malfoy, she was already awake and dressed. With a blanket wrapped snugly around her shoulders and a strong cup of coffee in hand, she sat on the front steps of the cottage, welcoming the cold that rattled her lungs and seeped into her bones. After spending the night lying awake in the dark, petrified in uncertainty, she needed to feel the wood digging into her thighs and the hard earth beneath her feet. 

With her feet planted firmly on the ground, she felt less like she was slipping away into nothingness.

From the moment she’d arrived in the Cotswolds, she’d felt riddled with desperation to just get back home. So, she told herself that she’d give it two days—long enough to convince everyone that she’d at least given it a shot, and then she would get herself back to London. 

But something about her conversation with Draco had shaken her. While they spoke for those few brief moments, Hermione had felt like herself again. It was only for a few moments, but she had felt like the Hermione Granger she’d been a decade ago, charging full force ahead with the world at her fingertips. She’d been weighed down by sorrow for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to be herself . 

It had probably meant nothing to Draco to make small talk with an old classmate for five minutes. In fact, Hermione was sure that he had already forgotten the entire thing. But those few minutes had shaken her to the core, and it had her wondering if maybe her friends had been right all along about her needing a holiday. 

Hermione sat transfixed by her view from the porch as the world around her began to wake. The first rays of light were hazy and golden, cutting through the fog that hung low on the rolling hills. A chilly breeze blew past, shaking the trees and ruffling her unruly hair, bringing with it a freshness that only an autumn morning could bring. Dew on the grass, fallen leaves turning to mulch, the promise of rain soon to come. The sky grew steadily lighter, blurred hues of pink and orange stretching across the horizon. 

Tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes, and she curled in on herself, hunching her shoulders and squeezing her mug tightly between her palms. She forced herself to take in a shuddering breath as indecision rose up like bile in her throat. 

How could she possibly go back to London—to that deathly silent apartment that she had been imprisoned in for months? The home she had built with the husband who’d left her; the home where she’d lost her baby? 

But how could she stay here , when every unknown left her stupefied? She was afraid to forget, afraid to move on, afraid to feel . Everywhere she looked, there was another dead end. 

She needed something, anything, to give her a sign. 

A blinding wave of fear washed over her, and she choked on the pressure that had built up in her chest, gulping in small bursts of air that didn’t bring any relief. A guttural sob escaped her lips as tears poured down her cheeks, and she pressed her hands against her face, rocking back and forth on the stoop. 

“Please,” Hermione sobbed— who she was crying out to, she didn’t know. “ Please, tell me what to do .”

The roaring in her ears was deafening, but once the words had been released, a calm descended upon her that she couldn’t explain. A deep breath in, and then she felt as though something was beckoning her to look up . 

And there it was—the answer she’d been looking for. It swept through her body all the way down to her toes, and she gasped in wonder. 

The sun was peeking up above the ground—a deep orange so bright that it hurt to look at. 

The winding country lane that twisted and wove through the surrounding hills sparkled as it was struck by the light. Endless fields of heather glimmered purple-silver, winking and waving in a provincial beauty so profound and powerful that she found herself once more choking— sobbing —in relief.

A sunrise so beautiful that it physically hurt to behold it. 

It was the proof she’d been looking for:  that even after the longest, darkest night, the sun would never fail to rise. Proof that even after sleepwalking through her life for the last year and a half—even after all the ugliness she had harboured within—there was a new day waiting for her. 

It was startling and heady to realize that she was finally ready to wake up .  

Hermione breathed deep and slow, more refreshed than she had been in longer than she could remember, despite not having slept. 

There would be no going back to London.

When the sun was high in the sky, she shook out her stiff muscles and popped her suitcase back into the front entryway. Car keys sailed into her waiting hand and in no time at all, she was headed out into the blustery, early October weather. 

***

The first thing Hermione did was stop at her new favourite place in the village—the pub she had visited the night before. The bell chimed in welcome, and she hung up her coat before taking a seat at the bar. A delicious English breakfast was set before her in no time, and while she ate, she pulled out a notebook and pen from her purse. 

It was time to make a ‘ Forget My Cheating Husband ’ list. Except that title didn’t really encompass all that she had in mind. A ‘ Do What I Want, When I Wan t’ list?

No, that wasn’t quite right either. Deciding to come back to the title later, she started brainstorming. 

Bubble Bath

Decorate for Autumn 

Candles 

Wine - lots of wine

Fuzzy socks

New blanket 

Take a nap

Bake

Binge a new show 

Hermione paused and took a few more bites of breakfast. If part of the plan was to get over her divorce, she needed to do more than just self-care.

Watch a sad movie and cry 

Listen to a breakup playlist and cry

Write and cry 

Drive and cry

There was undoubtedly going to be a lot more crying. 

Just as she took another sip of coffee, she was startled by someone sliding into the chair next to her. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Granger.” Hermione looked up and was shocked—once again—by the presence of Draco Malfoy. 

“What, you’re surprised to see me?” He laughed, and Hermione’s stomach did a backflip at the warm smile that lit up his face. She had never seen him smile like that before yesterday. 

“Hi! Um, yeah I guess I wasn’t expecting to see you, figured yesterday was some kind of fluke.” She laughed brightly; his cheerful energy was infectious. When the waitress came over to take his order, Hermione couldn’t resist the opportunity to study him. 

While he hadn’t been particularly dressed up the day before, he was dressed even more casually today. A long sleeve henley in olive green with jeans, a faded navy ball cap, and supple leather boots. Despite having seen him in Muggle wear the day before, the shock of it had yet to wear off. She could still recall what he was like at 16: dressed in the finest materials money could buy, black from head to toe, too pale and too skinny, angry, miserable, afraid. 

This man wore Muggle clothes like he’d been wearing them all his life. He looked happy, healthy, and ridiculously handsome. Okay, so he’d always been handsome . But when he was young, it was more of an aspiring evil dark lord kind of handsome . Now, he was more of a... boy next door kind of handsome? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There were calluses on his hands as though he was used to manual labour, even though he worked from his computer. Hermione snorted at the very idea. A Malfoy doing manual labour? It was almost too hard to believe. But before she knew it, she was wondering to herself what else those hands could do. 

Hermione was so intrigued by the change in him that she could hardly contain the butterflies that had come alive in the pit of her stomach. Even after she had finished examining him, Draco continued to chat with the waitress—whose name was Willow, apparently. 

Does he know all of the waitresses in this joint? Was he seeing one of them, or was he just a regular? 

Hermione glanced at her notebook that still lay open on the bartop and was just about to tuck it into her bag when Draco looked back over to her. 

“Working on something?” He moved closer to peer over her shoulder, but she slammed the notebook shut and looked up at him, scandalized. 

“No!” she squeaked. Draco backed away and put his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, I get it. Don’t want anyone to read something until it’s perfect, right?” He teased, and she snuck the notebook into her purse before there was a chance he might try to grab it. 

“No, nothing like that. It was just ... just something personal.” She picked up her mug to have something to do with her hands, and Draco did the same, his eyebrows raised at her in suspicion. 

“So, have you decided to stay after all?” 

Hermione sighed inwardly in relief at the change of topic. 

“Yes, actually. Just this morning. I may have been a little hasty deciding to leave so soon.”

“That’s great! You’ll love it here. It’s a good place to get some peace and quiet. Actually, there’s this park that would be great for you to sit and write at ...”

The minutes passed quickly as Draco gave her suggestions for places to go, and she was just starting to ask about what type of investments he managed when an incoming text distracted him. Hermione paused in the middle of her sentence while he glanced at his phone. 

“Sorry about this, just a sec,” he said as he typed a response. “Actually, I didn’t realize what time it was. I’ve got to run and pick up some dry cleaning, and then I’ve got plans, but are you interested in walking with me for a bit?” 

Pleasantly surprised by the invitation, she agreed and took out her wallet to pay, but Draco waved her away. 

“I’ve got it.” He threw some cash onto the bar, including a generous tip. Hermione baulked at the gesture. 

“Oh Draco, no it’s—” But before she could finish her sentence, he held up a hand and looked at her with an expression that left no room for argument. 

“I insist, Hermione.” With the kind of sophisticated move that could only be pulled off by someone raised as a gentleman, he put his hand on her lower back and guided her to the door. He then proceeded to grab her double-breasted trench coat from the coat rack— he remembered my coat from yesterday?— and hold it open for her to slip on. 

Sliding her hands through the arms of the coat as gracefully as possible, Hermione tried to breathe normally lest Draco catch on to her nervousness. She could feel his eyes glide down her body, and she was once again thankful that she had gone with cute but comfy for the day. Her favourite oversized, cable knit sweater, black leggings, and calf-high leather boots always made her look good, and she knew it. 

He smoothed his hand down her back as she slipped her purse over her shoulder, and smiled at her as he held open the door. 

The moment was over in just a few seconds, but with his hands on her, and his silvery-grey eyes locked on hers, it felt endless. He surprised her further when he looped her arm through his and led her down the street, continuing their conversation as though there had been no interruptions. 

Despite her heightened senses at having him so close, their rapport was easy—as though they were merely long-time friends, picking up where they left off. The walk through the village to the dry cleaner went by in a flash, and before she knew it, they were back at the pub. 

“It’s been nice catching up with you, Hermione. I’ve really enjoyed it.” She couldn’t help but smile sweetly up at him. 

“I have too, actually.” They both chuckled at the surprise of how comfortable they felt together.

“Well, maybe we could continue this conversation over dinner sometime?” Hermione’s heart leapt, but she forced herself to stay nonchalant.

“Yeah, that would be fun,” She agreed. 

Draco smiled and leaned down towards her, unexpectedly brushing a kiss against her cheek. Hermione’s breath caught, and a shiver ran down her spine. Just a friendly gesture, she told herself. Harry kisses your cheek all the time.

But in her gut, she knew it was anything but friendly.

“Maybe we can try for next weekend? Since I gave you my card, do you mind shooting me a text, and then I’ll have your number?” He began to walk backwards towards his car, and she waved, nodding in agreement. 

“See ya then, Granger!” 

Hermione waited until he was around the corner before she slid into her car in the most poised manner she could manage—just in case. She carefully contained her excitement until she was well on her way down the street before breaking out in a loud squeal. 

It had been a long time since anyone had been so attentive to her, and Merlin, did it feel good. 

***

The rest of the afternoon, Hermione hunted for supplies. If she was serious about this ‘ Forget My Life Is A Disaster’ list, or whatever the hell it was, she was going to need supplies. 

Staying in the Cotswolds for this holiday was only going to work if she took one small step at a time, and this list was the key. It was foolproof . All she had to do was focus on completing the list before her holiday was over, and she would be golden. Thinking about the future right now would be a mistake. The only thing to do was to go one day at a time, one item on the list at a time. While she made dinner and settled in for the evening, she added some more items to the list:

Take a nap

Spa day 

Sit on the back porch swing

Stay in PJ’s all-day 

Go running

Farmer’s Market 

Fall bike ride 

Walk in the woods

Meditate 

Take a yoga class

Visit an animal shelter 

Locate a hot tub & commandeer 

Get a haircut 

Watch a sunset

Send Ron a Howler?

By eight o’clock Hermione was ready for bed, exhausted from her lack of sleep the night before. She drifted off with no trouble at all, at peace with her decision, and slept soundly through the night. 

***

Sunday, October 6th

Hermione’s good mood continued into the next day. She slept in—despite having gone to bed so early—and spent the afternoon decorating the cottage for autumn.

She hung a large fall wreath on the front door and decorated the porch with pumpkins, lanterns, and sheaves of wheat. Fresh flower arrangements were placed in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom. A new, fluffy knit blanket was flung over the couch, new fall throw pillows went to the armchairs, and a string of fairy lights was strung across the bookshelves.

Next, a plate of maple scones was placed on the kitchen island, followed by an arrangement of gourds on the dining room table. She hung a garland of leaves, lit a handful of fall candles, and stocked the pantry with enough wine and junk food to last approximately a week, give or take a few days. The bathroom drawers were filled up with lavish but entirely necessary beauty and bath products. A stack of the softest towels she’d ever encountered went under the sink, and a ridiculously expensive bathrobe was hung with care on the back of the bathroom door. 

By the time she was done, the sun was hanging low in the sky, and she was more than ready to settle in for the evening. She opened a bottle of red wine and sank into a hot bubble bath, notebook in hand, ready to continue her list. 

A ‘ Learn How To Be A Divorcee’ list? Eh, still not the right title, but it was a work in progress. Also, she hated the term Divorcee —it made her feel ten years older than she was. She was only in her early thirties, for Merlin's sake! 

Talk to a stranger 

Sing in public 

Learn something new 

Get invited to a party - and actually go

Shopping spree 

Go on a date

Take myself out

Begin my next novel 

Hermione thought long and hard before writing the next two down—the two that she knew Ginny would insist belonged on any post-breakup list. 

Get sloshed

Get laid

Hermione sighed and laid the notebook down on the floor, sinking lower in the tub. She had felt more hopeful throughout the last two days than she had in a long time, but now, her heart felt wrung out. She let the water creep higher and higher until she was fully submerged and sunk to the bottom of the tub, feeling the blood pounding in her veins. 

She scrubbed her hands over her face, pushed them along her sides and down to her knees, begging herself to feel real. 

Sometimes she felt like none of this was real, and wished she could go back in time and change it. She wished she could just be someone else. 

She was tired of being her. Weary of bearing the weight of everything that had happened to her. 

Hermione ran her hands back up to her stomach and pressed down, feeling and knowing the emptiness of her womb more intimately than she had ever known anything before. 

It had been full for a short while. She had harboured a baby inside of her, had loved her baby more than she had ever loved anyone. 

Even still, her baby had been stolen from her.

She felt impossibly empty. 

Empty.

Shattered. 

Devastated. 

Raw. 

Angry. 

Fuck this.

A visceral wave of agony rose up inside her; a hatred, a heartbreak, a longing so ugly yet so profuse that it couldn’t be contained. 

All the muscles in her body went taut, and she let herself come undone. She thrashed under the water, blinding rage overtaking every other thought. She kicked and flailed beneath the surface, sending a torrent of water out of the tub and onto the floor. She pounded her feet on the bottom of the tub, dug her nails into her palms so tightly they bled. She screamed beneath the water, releasing some of the pressure that had been building within her for months. 

She was under for only a handful of seconds, but it felt as though she was forcing years worth of pain out of her body in one agonizingly endless moment. 

But she couldn’t hold her breath forever. 

Hermione surged upwards, spluttering and coughing, her lungs raw and suds stinging her eyes. Blood smeared the sides of the porcelain tub where she gripped it, dark red against pure white. Soapy water had flooded the floor and the candles that had been blinking merrily at her only minutes before had been snuffed out, leaving her in semi-darkness. 

It felt sudden yet inevitable all at once—coming so undone. The need to keep the rage at bay had been too great while she was at home, living her normal life. 

But here, alone, with no one to care, Hermione finally felt as though she could let it out. 

Her brain was foggy and blank after such an adrenaline rush, and her emotions were utterly wrung out. The water grew cold as she sat unseeing, unfeeling, unthinking. 

There was nothing left—only hollowness. 

Eventually, without knowing how much time had passed, she grew cold. Her teeth chattered, and she woke from her stupor, finally noticing the smears of blood on the tub and swirling in the water around her. Her skin looked ethereally pale, her hair clung thick and wet to her body, and her lips were chapped from biting them.

She felt all there was to feel and allowed it to fill her up until she was ready to let it all go again. 

With only a thought, the healing energy of her magic flew across her cuts and mended her bruised heels, her bitten lips. The blood disappeared, the water that had flooded the floor evaporated, and hot water poured once more from the tap. 

Hermione’s wine glass refilled itself, and she summoned the secret pack of cigarettes that she kept stashed in her purse. With a snap of her fingers, it was lit. Her head fell back against the tub, and she watched as the smoke unfurled from her lips and up to the ceiling. 

A few stray tears leaked from the corner of her eyes as one clear thought struggled through her foggy mind and up to the surface:  I can do this.  

She would get through this one day at a time.

Resolving right then and there that she would complete at least one thing on her list every day, she was determined to get better. By the time December rolled around, she would be ready to face everyone again. 

She would roll into the New Year a changed woman and leave this old, broken Hermione Granger behind. 

It was time to find herself again. 

“It’ll be fine” she murmured aloud to herself. “I’ll be fine.”

***

Hermione’s skin was pruney by the time she emerged from the water, but her mind was finally relaxed. Wrapped in her extravagant new robe, she fell asleep on the couch watching the flames dance in the hearth. 

That night, she didn’t dream of a poisoned knife digging into her arm, or of blood gushing from her uterus and onto a tile floor. 

She didn’t dream of falling through the sky, or of blood-red eyes and green bolts of light. 

She didn’t dream of a slamming front door that reverberated through her mind over and over, like a cadence that she could never forget. 

She didn’t dream of any of the things that so often pervaded her mind in the twilight hours, not even the recurring nightmare that had her frantically searching for her lost child.

Instead, she dreamed of a lake so still, it could have been glass—calm, blue, constant—and a pair of kind, silvery-grey eyes.

***

Monday, October 7th

The next morning Hermione couldn't pry herself out of bed. She had opened up a vault within herself, and now that it had been opened, it couldn’t be closed. She slept off and on for the next twenty-four hours, succumbing to the heavy weight of sorrow that she had been running from for almost a year. It would have been her baby’s first birthday in less than a month, but she had never really given herself the time she needed to grieve properly.

So she was giving it to herself now. 

***

Wednesday, October 9th

Hermione ventured no further than the kitchen pantry and lived off of wine and a steady supply of junk food for nearly three straight days. By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, she was officially out of food and had to get out of the cottage. She slipped on a worn pair of leggings, an oversized Gryffindor hoodie, and some rain boots before throwing her hair up into a top knot. 

It felt good to cruise down the highway: open and free. Hermione cranked the radio and sang at the top of her lungs, feeling a little more like herself after indulging her need for wallowing. The Supermarket was easy to find and she had half a cartload full of wine and chocolate and crisps and all the comfort food she could think of—

Oh my God. 

Hermione froze in the middle of the biscuit aisle and listened intently to the voice that was drawing closer in the aisle next to her. It only took her a second to confirm that—yup—she had the worst luck in the history of the universe. 

She hadn’t showered or brushed her teeth in days, no doubt looked like a complete wreck, and who should she run into? 

Draco Malfoy of course . 

It was one thing to run into him when she looked put together, it was another entirely to run into him in this outfit, without a lick of makeup on. She listened as he talked to someone on his cell phone and drew closer to her end of the aisle. 

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Hermione muttered under her breath, creeping on tiptoes past an elderly woman who gave her an odd look. She peeked around the corner and seemed to be in the clear, so she headed to the next aisle. 

Except there his voice was again, heading right for her. 

She looped back and was so close to making it when— 

“ Hey, I gotta go, can I call you later? Thanks. Granger, is that you creeping around in a Gryffindor sweatshirt?” he called down the aisle to her. 

Shit. Fucking fuck fuck fuck. Hermione froze, hunched over her cart and walking on tiptoes like a complete lunatic, and turned towards him, a big smile plastered on her face. 

“Why Draco, darling, what a surprise!” she forced out, dying of mortification. He headed towards her, looking like a shark that had set eyes on his prey. 

“You weren't trying to avoid me, were you?” He asked shrewdly, knowing very well that was exactly what she’d been doing. “If you were, I can’t imagine why.” His eyes skimmed over her outfit, and he smirked, clearly aware of why she had been trying to avoid him.

“What? No, of course not! I just didn’t see you. But here you are! So hello, wonderful to see you, and I’ll just be on my way…” She began to steer her cart around him, desperate to end this disastrous meeting as quickly as possible. 

“Hah, you’re not getting away that easy. Throwing a party, are we?”

Hermione quirked a brow, not understanding him in the slightest. Draco gestured to her cart at the mountain of wine and junk food she’d thrown in haphazardly. 

Oh my God, he's going to think I’m a complete pig!

“Uh, well—” She stuttered as Draco barked out a laugh, seeing through her immediately. 

“Party for one, huh? You don’t have to explain yourself to me, I get it completely.” Hermione chuckled along with him, and they both began to make their way to the front to check out. She finally began to relax a bit and glanced at his cart, a startled laugh escaping her lips. 

“Your cart isn’t much better, Malfoy! What, do you still eat like a five-year-old?” He had mac-n-cheese, baby carrots, fruit snacks, and an assortment of other weird odds and ends. 

Draco immediately looked uncomfortable and stuffed one hand into a pocket while they waited in line. 

“Hey, you never texted me your number. Can I have your phone?” 

“Um, sure I guess,” she said, a little confused by his quick change of subject. She handed her phone over, and he called himself. 

“There, now I have it. So I’ll talk to you in a couple of days then?” He asked as he paid for his groceries. 

“Yeah, sure,” she offered up, though sure was not at all what she felt. Had she said something wrong?

He gave her a quick nod that could only be described as terse and headed out of the store. 

Hermione paid for her groceries and headed back to the cottage, all the while wondering what the hell just happened.  

***

Friday, October 11th

On Friday morning, Hermione woke up, took a long hot shower and ate a proper meal. Whatever was going on with Draco, she wasn’t going to worry about it. Feeling a bit more like herself, she took a seat on the back porch swing and checked off the things that she had accomplished on her ‘Hermione Granger is a Trainwreck ’ list...

Bubble Bath ✔️

Decorate for Autumn ✔️

Candles ✔️

Wine - lots of wine ✔️

Fuzzy socks✔️

New blanket ✔️

Watch a sad movie & cry ✔️✔️✔️

Stay in PJ’s all day ✔️

Sit on the porch swing ✔️

After congratulating herself for making such great progress on her list, Hermione was ready to venture outside in the daylight. With a spring in her step and a heart full of optimism, she threw on the running gear she hadn’t touched since the previous summer.

It was time.

***

Ten minutes into the run, her optimism had been replaced by another bout of fiery rage.

Ron had convinced her that running would be dangerous for the baby, even though the healer had encouraged her to stick to her normal routine. He had cut her down in many ways, that being just one of them. He had inferred that she wasn’t doing enough to keep the baby safe, and she had let him talk her into taking a break from running. A break that ended up being much longer than she had intended. 

And she had let him . 

She wasn’t sure who she was more angry at—Ron, or herself . 

Now she felt like her lungs might explode like an amateur when she’d been a marathon runner since her teens. 

She drove her feet into the ground and imagined that she was pummeling Ron’s stupid, ugly, ginger head. She pushed and pushed until finally, at the forty-five-minute mark, she started to feel like she was flying. 

Her body was screaming, and her heart was pounding, but she’d never felt more alive as she pounded down the country road with no end in sight. A beautiful golden glow lit up her path, and the afternoon sun danced off the falling leaves that floated down around her. A brisk wind whispered across her skin, and she breathed in the fresh air, a lightness filling her as she propelled herself forward. 

She could do this. She would do this.

She was going to be okay.

***

After about an hour and a half of running, Hermione had returned to the neighbourhood where her rental cottage was located. Just as she was beginning to slow her pace, a figure in the distance caught her eye. A man that looked oddly familiar.

It couldn’t be. 

Hermione drew closer, watching as the man tossed a baseball with a young boy.

No no no no!

How was it possible that Draco Malfoy owned a house right around the corner from the cottage she was renting? And who the hell did that kid belong to? There had never been anything in the papers about Malfoy having a child. 

Hoping against all hope that maybe Draco wouldn’t see her, Hermione ducked her head and pulled her hood low over her eyes. Soaked in sweat and covered in mud was not exactly the look she had in mind for their next meeting, especially after that ill-fated run-in at the grocery store. On top of that, her face must look a fright—she should add run and cry to the list just so she could check it off. 

But luck was not on her side. 

So focused was she on avoiding Draco that she completely missed the giant mud puddle she was quickly approaching. 

One second she was hunched over trying to avoid being recognized, the next she was sprawled on her back in the mud, her head spinning and the wind knocked out of her. 

“Fucking God damn it!” She gasped, right as a face appeared in her line of vision, hovering above her head. 

A miniature version of Draco Malfoy. 

“Those are bad words, you know,” the boy was quick to inform her. 

Hermione didn’t know how Draco had kept the fact that he had a son out of the press, but she had finally put her finger on exactly what kind of handsome he had become. He was not boy-next-door handsome; he was D.I.L.F. handsome.

She was so fucked. 

Chapter Text

Previously in Chapter 2:

“Those are bad words, you know,” the boy was quick to inform her. 

Hermione didn’t know how Draco had kept the fact that he had a son out of the press, but she had finally put her finger on exactly what kind of handsome he had become. He was not boy-next-door handsome; he was D.I.L.F. handsome.

She was so fucked. 

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Chapter 3

Hermione groaned and tried to sit up, only to immediately lay back down as the world spun.

“Whoa there, tiger; don’t try to sit up yet. How’s your head?” Draco asked, crouching down next to her and checking for injuries. 

“Alright, I think,” She huffed, still recovering from the wind being knocked from her lungs.

“You know, if you hadn’t been trying to avoid me again this wouldn’t have happened.” 

Hermione bit out a laugh and didn’t even try to deny it as Draco helped her into a sitting position. 

“There, any better?” He asked, taking her head in his hands and turning it one way and then the other. Hermione sucked in a breath at his proximity, watching him as he inspected her. After a moment he looked down and they stared at each other, startled to find their noses only a few inches away from brushing. Draco glanced down to her lips unconsciously, and Hermione could have sworn he leaned a fraction of an inch closer…..but they had forgotten they had an audience.

“Dad, this lady said bad words,” the boy said, completely unaware of the moment he had interrupted. Hermione chuckled and shook her head, remembering that Draco had also been a bit of a tattletale when he was young. Draco stood and offered another hand, which she accepted gratefully. As soon as she was safe on her feet she shifted away slightly, eager to put some distance between her them. If the fall hadn’t shaken her up, having Draco that close with his hands on her body certainly would have. 

“Well Scorp, sometimes grown-ups say bad words. Now, mind your manners and introduce yourself properly,” he chided gently. 

“Ooo-k, Dad.” Scorpius agreed begrudgingly before turning to Hermione. He stretched a hand towards her with his shoulders stiff and his nose in the air, wrapping his privileged upbringing around himself like a cloak. “My name is Scorpius Malfoy, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he recited in a singsong voice before dropping his act and adding, “ Who are you?” onto the end. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at his cheek and Draco raised a hand to cover his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. 

“Merlin,” he muttered under his breath. “Scorpius, this is my friend Hermione. Actually,” Draco turned towards her with a quirked brow and half a smile. “ Are we friends, Granger?” 

Hermione felt her cheeks get heated; she felt so flustered when he gave her that look. Determined not to let it get to her, she ignored the aggravating butterflies in her stomach and brushed him off. 

“Eh, I suppose. After the number of times we’ve run into each other this week, we might as well be.”

“Dad, is Hermi- Hermi- what’s your name again?” Scorpius asked. 

“You can call me ‘Mione, Scorpius,” she supplied, used to children being unable to pronounce her name. 

“Okay, Mione.” He then turned to his father matter-of-factly and asked, “is ‘Mione a special friend or a regular friend?”

If there had been liquid in her mouth, Hermione would surely have spit it out. As it was, she choked on her own saliva and proceeded to cough up a lung. Meanwhile, Draco was making an effort not to laugh at his son whilst scolding him. 

“Scorp, you know that you’re not supposed to use that term unless we’re alone!” 

“But Daaaaaddd, how am I supposed to know unless I ask ?!” Scorpius turned to her with squinting eyes, trying to determine what kind of friend she was. Hermione finally got her cough under control and looked at Draco, wiping her watering eyes. 

“Yes, Draco, what kind of friend am I?” she smirked, giving him an opening for an innuendo that she guessed he wouldn’t make in present company. Draco turned to her with a glare, opening his mouth and closing it again, biting back whatever initial retort he would have liked to give. Hermione’s respect for Draco rose immediately as she watched him keep their conversation PG in front of his son.

“What Scorpius is asking, Hermione, is if you’re a friend from Hogwarts, like his Aunt Pansy and Aunt Daphne, isn’t that right Scorp?”

“What else would I be asking?” He looked between the two of them as though they were crazy, the adult euphemism of ‘special friend’ completely lost on his young ears. Both adults laughed and Draco assured him that of course there was no other hidden meaning. Hermione crouched down to Scorpius’ eye level and was happy to report to him that yes; she was a special friend. She glanced over his shoulder and met Draco’s gaze, unsurprised to see him watching her with flirtatiously narrowed eyes.

“Now, what could you possibly know about Hogwarts? You’re far too young to go to Hogwarts !” She taunted Scorpius playfully while standing back up to her full height. Draco beckoned them both out of the street and towards the house, and she followed along without even a thought to ending their conversation and heading home. 

“I know everything about Hogwarts!” Scorpius reported, puffing up his chest proudly.

“Really? I bet there are some things that your Dad hasn’t told you yet.”

“Nuh-uh! I know everything! I know all about the houses and the Great Hall and the ghosts and the -” Scorpius continued to list a great many things about Hogwarts all in one breath, stomping ahead of them and into the house. The screen door slammed behind him, and he continued his rant even though he’d lost his audience. 

“He’s wonderful, Draco. How old is he?” She asked quietly, looking after Scorpius with affection before turning to Draco, a large smile on her face. 

“Just turned five a few months ago. He’s a good kid. Smart and talented, just like his father.” Draco said proudly, puffed up similarly to how Scorpius had been only moments before. Hermione grinned wickedly. 

“Oh, definitely. Cocky just like his father, too.” Hermione laughed and Draco deflated with a groan. “Not sure why you’ve kept him a secret, though.” She asked, the tiniest bit of accusation laced in her voice.

Draco stiffened immediately and Hermione was reminded of how he’d looked at the market when she’d commented on the food in his cart. It was obvious to her now that he had been buying food for a child, and he had been worried that she would put two and two together.

With a sudden burst of clarity, Hermione realized what Draco was doing. He was protecting his son, and she was a little incredulous with herself for taking so long to realize it. 

“Can’t you? You can’t think of any reason that I - a former Death Eater and a Malfoy to boot, one of the wealthiest men in the country, might need to keep -” Hermione laid a hand on his arm and cut him off, wishing she hadn't been so dense.

“I’m so sorry Draco, I understand perfectly. Forgive me for even asking.”

“This needs to stay between us, Granger. I’ve gone to great lengths to protect his identity.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging her, not bothering to acknowledge her apology.

“Yes, of course, Draco. That’s not a problem at all. I won’t say anything to anyone,” she assured him. Draco scrubbed a hand over his face and visibly relaxed.

“Alright...okay. Sorry to be so abrupt; I’ve just worked very hard to keep his existence a secret from the majority of the wizarding world, and I -” he stopped as Scorpius came back out to the porch, hands on his hips.

“Are you two coming or not?! Dad, you promised we could have milkshakes after we played outside!” Draco laughed at his son’s antics and turned to Hermione.

“So, are you up for joining us for a milkshake, Hermione?” He asked, the strained conversation of a moment ago already forgotten. Her heart stuttered and bloomed in her chest, slightly surprised by his quick acceptance of her trustworthiness. She looked up at Scorpius, who was watching her intently, waiting to hear whether or not she’d come inside.

There had never been an easier answer to give in her entire life. 

“I am always up for milkshakes.” She assured Scorpius before following him into the house, muddy shoes and all. Draco followed them in and placed a hand on her shoulder, stalling for a moment in the entryway.

“Thank you,” he whispered.  

With a backward glance, she found him once more standing too close - and when their eyes met, she got a glimpse of the worry he harbored over his son’s safety and happiness. 

Draco was carrying the world on his shoulders, trying to be a good father. 

Hermione knew a little bit about carrying loads that were too heavy for one person to bear. It wouldn’t matter what she said - nothing would help. No words would bring relief to such a burden. 

So she didn’t even try.

Instead, Hermione shot him a wink and let Scorpius lead her through his home as though they’d done this one hundred times before. She glanced back at Draco on their way down the hall to find Draco’s eyes fixed on her, ardently burning with an intensity that she couldn’t quite make sense of. 

It was a look she wouldn’t soon forget. 

***

When they reached the kitchen, it was to find that Scorpius had all the milkshake ingredients assembled on the counter. 

Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and waved it in her direction, the evidence of her fall evaporating.

“Want something to drink?” he asked as he hooked up the blender and lifted Scorpius up onto the counter beside it. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, Draco helping Scorpius scoop the ice cream, pour the milk, and squeeze the chocolate syrup in. 

Hermione felt as though she’d fallen into another universe that she hadn’t known existed until 20 minutes ago. Watching Draco interact with his son was fascinating and beautiful. They had their own language, their own private jokes. It was clear - despite the short amount of time she’d been with them - that Draco was a patient and kind father. Hermione sat at the kitchen table with her head resting on one hand, laughing at their antics.  

Once they finished making the milkshakes, Draco grabbed some glasses but was bombarded by Scorpius smearing chocolate syrup on his face. Scorpius hopped off the counter and immediately doubled over into giggles while Draco turned to Hermione, incredulous.

“Do you see what I have to put up with, Hermione? This boy’s a demon!” He exclaimed, pretending to be upset. Scorpius just laughed harder and Draco began to tickle him ruthlessly. Hermione’s stomach clenched and she felt a wave of emotion rise in her, and for a moment she thought she may cry. Resolving quickly to set it aside and come back to that later, she shook her head and commented that your face is actually much improved this way, Draco.

Draco cleaned his face and put Scorpius in charge of whip cream - which of course turned into a mess. The boys took turns filling each other’s mouths from the spray can, which had Hermione in stitches. Draco turned towards her with his mouth full of whip and asked her, nearly unintelligibly, what’s so funny?! 

Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. They sat around the kitchen table, drinking their milkshakes and laughing, effortlessly enjoying each other’s company. 

***

“Dad, can Mione come to the pumpkin patch with us? Oh, pretty please can she come? We never have girls around. It’d be so nice to have a girl come with us.” Scorpius begged after he had finished his shake. Draco’s cheeks tinged pink and Hermione snickered to herself, but there was no embarrassment revealed in his voice. 

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and put some warm clothes on. I’ll talk to Hermione, ok?” Scorpius was up in a flash, leaving the adults chuckling behind him. 

“Pumpkin patch, huh?” Hermione inquired. 

“Ya, we’ve been planning on going this afternoon.”

“So, this isn’t your usual routine then? Rescue a damsel in distress and then bring her back to your place to be charmed by your ‘Single Dad’ act?” She asked with a smirk. Draco rubbed the back of his neck and paused before responding.

“Well, no. To be honest, I don’t really date much, and when I do, it’s usually a one-off while Scorp is with his grandmother for the night,” he confessed, his cheeks turning a shade darker, which Hermione found incredibly endearing. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship since I split with Astoria, and I would never introduce a girlfriend to Scorpius unless we were serious.”

“And why is that you haven’t been serious with anyone?” she asked lightly, wondering how much information he would readily dish out to her. 

“Ah... um, haven't been that interested in anyone, truth be told. Before this week, that is.” Draco looked up from the table and caught her eye. It was so direct and unapologetic, so unlike what she expected of him, that she wasn’t sure what to say.

“So what do you think, Granger? Are you up for a visit to the pumpkin patch? Now that we’re special friends and all.” Hermione ducked her head with a smile and took a breath, her heart spiraling just the tiniest bit out of control. 

She really liked this man. 

“You aren’t worried about me spending time with Scorpius, even though we’ve only just...started spending time together? And on accident at that?” She asked, shaking her head that this had all come from mere happenstance. “I mean, we haven’t even been on that date you asked me on yet.”

Draco reached across the table and grabbed her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles. 

“If you were someone I’d only just met, then yes. It would be way too soon. But Hermione, we’ve known each other since we were eleven . And if you say you’ll keep our secret, then I believe you. We can keep things… friendly… between us in front of him, for now.” Hermione nodded in understanding, enjoying the feel of his hand around hers. “So what do you say, are you interested?” he asked for a second time, a twinkle in his eye.

“If you’re ok with it, then I’d love to. But I think I'll pop home and change first, I’m still a bit of a mess,” she gestured to her clothes, which were still a bit wonky and damp despite the scourgify. 

“Alright, but there’s one other thing I should tell you,” Draco murmured slowly, his voice like silken caramel washing over her. He pulled her knuckles up to his lips, brushed them lightly against her skin. 

“What’s that?” She wondered breathlessly.

“We only just ran into each other a week ago...but I’m at the point in my life where I’m not interested in playing silly games. I like you Hermione, and while it may be best to keep things platonic in front of Scorpius…. friendly is not at all how I feel about you.” He looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes, and she felt as though he had lit a fire inside of her, liquid warmth filling her from the inside out.

“And for the record, I like you just like this,” He whispered, turning her hand over and placing another kiss on her palm. “With your hair windswept, and cheeks pink from the cold, eyes bright from laughing...” He trailed off as he brushed an errant curl behind her ear. A long moment passed as the looked at each other, but Hermione found her voice. If he was willing to be so candid than she could be too. 

“I like you too, Draco.” She murmured, fully swept up into his beautiful and unexpected declaration. She suddenly had the longing for both his hands to be in her hair, running through it, pulling it as he kissed her….But they were once more interrupted by an over-enthusiastic 5-year-old bounding into the kitchen.

“Dad! Dad! Can she come?” He danced around, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“By the way, I don’t think anyone has ever been such a big hit with my kid before,” Draco muttered dryly before turning to his son to snap up the winter coat he’d put on. “Should we just pop by your place for you to change on our way?” he asked her.

“Ya, that’s fine,” she agreed.

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Yes, Scorp, Hermione said she can come.”

“Whoohoo! Look at our list, Mione! We get to check off pumpkin patch today!”

They headed towards the door and Scorpius thrust the paper into her hands. It had the words Autumn Bucket List at the top and had a long list of items, including pictures Scorpius had drawn. 

“Wow, Scorpius! Did you draw all these pictures?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the P. “Dad did the writing, and I did the drawing. But we both came up with the ideas!”

“This is a seriously awesome list. I actually have a list that I’m working on myself.”

“Really? That list wouldn’t happen to be in the notebook in your purse, now would it?” Draco called to her as they all buckled into the car. 

“Maybe…” she conceded. 

“And what might your list be about, hmm?” Draco pried. 

“Oh, you know...a little of this, a little of that.” 

“Mione! You could help us with our list and we could help you with yours!” 

“Now that’s a great idea, Scorp!” Draco encouraged as they pulled away from the house. “Doesn’t that sound like a good idea, Hermione?” Draco winked at her and Hermione groaned. 

“Well, maybe. I’ll think about it. Let me see what else is on your list Scorpius!” 

*** 

The local pumpkin patch was especially busy for a Friday afternoon with Halloween just two weeks around the corner. The three of them loaded up a cart of all different kinds of pumpkins to carve and put out as decorations, enjoyed lunch from a food truck, and decided to finish the afternoon by visiting the carnival rides. Draco and Hermione kicked back on a nearby park bench and shared a bag of Kettle Corn while they watched Scorpius play in the bounce house nearby. 

“So tell me about how all this...happened.” Hermione wondered aloud. Draco finished his bite and handed her the bag, taking some time to think before answering. Hermione popped a handful in her mouth, thinking how odd it was that she was sharing a bag of Kettle Corn with Draco Malfoy at a muggle pumpkin patch. 

“You mean...what exactly?”

“You know...all the muggle stuff,” She said around her mouth full of Kettle Corn. “You both seem so ...immersed in muggle culture. You do so many things the muggle way. That’s certainly not how most wizards and witches live.” Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him grin as he watched Scorpius flail around with the other children. 

“Did you know that Astoria and I lived in the muggle world for most of our marriage?” Draco admitted, and she shook her head. 

“Now that you mention it, I don’t recall there being much of anything about you in the papers after your trial. Just the wedding announcement and that’s it. I never really thought about it before, but how did you manage that? Ron and I were in the papers constantly,” she groused, and Draco snorted.

“Ya - I noticed that.” Hermione bumped her shoulder against his in annoyance. “But it wasn’t all that difficult for us; we actually own all the media outlets in the UK,” he said matter-of-factly. Hermione nearly began choking on her popcorn. Why was she always choking unattractively around him?!

“What?!!” She stared at him with dumbstruck, but Draco simply rolled his eyes and raised his arm to the back of the bench, so that his hand rested dangerously close to her shoulder.

“You can’t possibly think that the Malfoy family would allow themselves to be used as tabloid fodder, can you? We only appear in print on our terms. Also, it’s just smart business. Information is power and all that. We don’t involve ourselves much in the day-to-day operations, but controlling the media goes a long way for manipulating public opinion.” 

“Careful Malfoy, your Slytherin is showing,” Hermione muttered, but Draco just barked a laugh. 

“That’s what my father would say, at least. I don’t have anything to do with the daily operations of Malfoy Enterprises outside of our muggle investments branch. And please, you’re just jealous of my being able to stay out of the papers.” 

“Yes, well we can’t all be wealthy sods that run the news.” Draco shook his head and brushed his fingers along her shoulder and Hermione sucked in a breath. All of a sudden, the charge between them was less argumentative than it was ...something else entirely. 

Hermione was just about to lean into Draco’s shoulder when Scorpius appeared, exhausted and ready to head home. They paid for their pumpkins, loaded into the car, and Scorpius fell asleep moments after they hit the road. Draco teased Hermione lightly about the list she was making, and they made small talk quietly for a few minutes until he came to a stop in front of her cottage. 

“So, are you up for a first date tomorrow, Granger?” He asked, and Hermione spun in the seat to face him. 

“This didn’t count as a first date then?” She asked cheekily. Draco looked scandalized. 

“With this monkey tailing us? Hell no. You need to let me wine you and dine you a bit and then we can call it a date.”

“Alright then.” She nodded, her smile stretching all the way to her ears. 

“Ya?”

“Ya, I’m up for a little wining and dining.” 

“I’ll pick you up at six, then. Try not to kill yourself between now and then with any more falls or coughing fits.” Hermione snorted and shook her head. 

“Ya ya, I’m a klutz, what else is new.” 

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you, Granger.” 

“Ya, uhuh, sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, Draco.” Hermione winked and swung the car door shut before he could get the last word. She cheekily blew him a kiss and he waved, their smiles both wide and unapologetic. 

Hermione floated inside, feeling more herself than she had in a very long time. There was just something about Draco... she felt like he brought out the best in her. And she had loved spending time with Scorpius - he was so smart and funny. The promise of their date the following night kept her mind preoccupied through the evening as she decided what to wear, and wondered where Draco might take her. Before bed, her notebook was begging to be cracked open. She doodled in the margins of her list for a few minutes before the right name for her project finally came to her. 

This list was not a ‘ Forget My Life Is A Disaster’ list, or a ‘ Forget My Cheating Husband ’ list. It wasn’t about  ‘ Do What I Want When I Want’ and it certainly wasn’t about ‘ Learning How To Be A Divorcee’. 

This was a BOSS BITCH list. 

Hermione wrote it in bold and in all caps, and a bubble of happy laughter escaped her lips. It was perfect. She had always been strong, successful, independent, unafraid to speak her mind and stand up for what she believed in. Underneath the layers of dust that had settled upon her over the last several years, those things were still there...she just needed to do some recovery work. A Boss Bitch list was just a little something to help her remember who she was; a way to recapture herself. 

The lamp on the bedside table flickered off with a snap of her fingers and she snuggled underneath her covers, confidant that she was already well on her way. 

***

Saturday, October 12th

The next morning Hermione woke early with a smile on her face. The sky was obscured by fog and mist hung heavy in the air, but even the gloomy atmosphere of an oncoming rainstorm couldn't dampen her mood. Out into the weather she went, secured against the cold in her windbreaker and thickly lined joggers. The beginning of the run was difficult as expected, but she pushed through with the knowledge that it would get easier as she went. 

She was unable to avoid running passed Draco’s house and tried to ignore the swell of girlish glee that rose up as she thought of seeing him again later that day. 

Once she arrived home, Hermione basked under the hot spray of the shower and did a little extra primping in preparation for her date. She was just settling in to read after eating a late lunch when her mobile rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Hermione, I’m so sorry to do this but I have to cancel our plans for tonight. Scorpius has come down with a fever and I just don’t feel good about leaving him with a sitter when he’s sick.”

Her initial disappointment at the word ‘ cancel’ abated when she heard the reason behind it. 

“Oh, poor Scorpius! That’s perfectly alright, I understand. We can try for another day.” 

“Well, I was wondering what you’d think about coming over here tonight, instead? I know Scorpius would love to see you. And….I would too.” Hermione was a little taken aback by the request but was so pleased he thought to ask. He’d been thinking about her - he wanted to see her - even though they’d just spent time together the day before. 

“That sounds lovely! Why don’t I make some chicken soup and bring it over for everyone?” 

“That would be amazing, Hermione! Thanks for understanding,” Draco said, clearly relieved that she wasn’t upset at the change of plan. 

“No worries; shall I still come by at 6 then?” 

“Ya, that works. See you then.”

Hermione grinned as she set her book down and headed to the market for supplies for the night. It might not be the date she had expected, but she wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. 

***

Empty bowls of Hermione’s homemade chicken soup and the extra-large mugs they’d used for hot cocoa littered the coffee table, along with a smattering of marshmallows and chocolate chips. The credits of It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown were rolling and Hermione picked up Scorpius’ Autumn Bucket List that sat on the coffee table to peruse what other items still needed to be completed. With a smile, she noticed the three big checkmarks next to Hot Chocolate with giant marshmallows, PJ Day, & Halloween film. Scorpius had been excited to watch his favorite Charlie Brown flick but had drifted off snuggled up between her and Draco about halfway through the film at 7:30 - just as Draco had predicted. Hermione’s heart melted while she watched Draco carry him up to his bedroom, fast asleep in his father’s arms. 

While Draco was busy tucking Scorpius in, Hermione cleared the dishes with a wave of her wand and poured them both some of the red wine she had brought. She snuggled into the couch, enjoying the heat from the fire and the pounding of the rain from the storm that had finally rolled in.

After a few minutes, Draco emerged from the upstairs, looking entirely too sexy in green flannel checkered pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, and bare feet. There was something about seeing someone with nothing on their feet that felt so... intimate to Hermione. To see Draco in his pajamas, at home in his bare feet, putting his son to bed….it was like his guards were completely down, and he was just one hundred percent Draco with no pretenses. Since he had already admitted that he didn’t usually include women in his daily life, Hermione felt incredibly special to have been invited to spend such an evening with them. Hermione knew that they were jumping steps that couples usually took when getting to know each other ...but every moment she had spent with Draco and Scorpius thus far had just felt right .

Despite the butterflies he gave her, she also felt so completely comfortable around him.

About an hour after he’d called to change their plans earlier that day, Draco had texted to let her know that he and Scorpius were having a jammie day - and told her to dress appropriately, complete with a wink emoji face. After a million changes of outfit, Hermione had finally settled on a pair of her favorite leggings with an oversized sweater - cute yet comfortable. She had been rewarded for her choice when she caught Draco checking her out upon her arrival. 

Draco stoked the fire before plopping down on the couch next to her and picked up the glass she’d poured for him. 

“He go down alright?” Hermione wondered. 

“Oh ya, once he falls asleep he’s usually out till morning. He’s always been a pretty heavy sleeper. Must have gotten that from Astoria because I certainly never have been.” Hermione laughed and nodded in understanding. 

“I’m the same way - I routinely have bouts of insomnia or bad dreams that wake me at night. Or I’ll stay up through the night writing when I’m close to finishing a novel.”

“Any luck with your next idea yet?” 

“No, nothing yet,” Hermione sighed, taking a long sip of her wine. 

“Well, you’re bound to come up with something brilliant. You always do. That last one you wrote was—“ 

“Wait, you’ve read my books?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide. 

“You know, despite what some people may say, I can read,” he remarked dryly. Hermione spluttered, searching for what to say.

“I’m just — wow; I just didn’t assume you’d read them because I always write about female heroines, that’s all.”

“And I’m not capable of appreciating a female heroine?” He looked her up and down before meeting her eyes once more. 

“No, that’s not what I meant—Merlin! I knew I had some male readers but I just didn’t think—“ Draco laughed and she responded by lightly thwacking him on the arm.

“Relax, Granger. I don’t know why you’re surprised I’ve read them; you’re an excellent writer. And the saucy bits don’t hurt either.” He waggled his brows and Hermione leaned her head back against the couch with a groan of embarrassment. 

Hermione’s adult magical adventure and mystery novels had been hugely popular ever since she published her first book a few years after graduating from Hogwarts. Her books always starred a strong female heroine, with complex and multilayered plots. Although the majority of each novel was focused on the heroine’s struggle, there was usually a love interest that manifested itself in one way or another. While there was never anything too racy, the books were marketed for adults for a reason. What was an adventure without a little romance, after all? 

Hermione took another long gulp of wine, feeling flustered and unsure of what to say. A shiver ran through her when Draco rested his hand on her knee, and she knew they were in dangerous territory. It had never bothered her before to hear that someone had read her books, but the idea that Draco had read them was both embarrassing and titillating. She cleared her throat and searched for a way to change the subject. 

“Good wine, hmm?” she squeaked. Draco chuckled knowingly, and she caught him watching her flirtatiously from the corner of his eye. It occurred to Hermione that he was purposely ...purposefully doing something . Though what it may be was lost on her for the moment. 

“Thanks for hanging out here with us tonight; I’m sorry we weren’t able to go out.” he finally said, but Hermione waved him off.

“Psh, tonight was perfect just as it was.” She sipped the last of her glass and poured herself another, topping Draco’s off as well. He was silent for a moment, and when she looked over at him it was to see him looking down at his glass. Hermione tucked her feet under her and turned toward him, sensing a sudden change in his mood. She reached for his arm but he stood and walked to the fire, poking at it for a moment and adding another log. 

Tension hung thick in the air. Draco paced back and forth for a few minutes until he finally came to stand with his back to her, one arm resting on the mantel as he looked into the fire. 

“Sickle for your thoughts?” She asked quietly. Draco sighed and stretched his neck, stalling for a moment, gathering his thoughts. 

“I didn’t expect to have another opportunity like this.” He muttered lowly, thinking out loud more than answering her question. “I thought that I had my chance and that it just didn’t pan out, and that was that.” Hermione’s heart clenched; she had a pretty good idea of what he was getting at. She had been thinking the same thing about herself.  

Draco came back to the couch and took his seat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Astoria would never have been okay with tonight.” He shook his head in frustration. “She would never have wanted to stay home with her sick child, and make chicken noodle soup and drink hot cocoa. And she especially would not have been okay with me rescheduling a date.” Draco closed his eyes and hung his head. Hermione frowned sympathetically. 

“Do you want to tell me more about her?” She murmured, placing a hand on his back. 

He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before he began.

“You know how I said Astoria and I lived in the muggle world for most of our marriage?” Hermione nodded, running her hand along his back slowly, comfortingly. 

“After her mother’s funeral and my trial were both over, we just needed to get away; disappear for a while. We eloped and bought an apartment in muggle London. My parents were furious of course, but we eventually made up after I promised to return home and join the family business in a few years.” 

“I bet that was incredibly freeing; to get away like that,” Hermione said. Draco just nodded absently and continued. 

“It was. It was exactly what we needed. Neither of us felt like we knew who we were, and we really bonded over learning how to live without magic.” He snorted. “Not to mention our mutual hatred for the pureblood aristocracy.” He shook his head and Hermione’s heart ached to think about all that he’d gone through.

“Astoria was even more adamant about the evils of the aristocracy than I was at that point, believe it or not. After her mother was murdered, she wanted nothing to do with her old life.”

“I can imagine. But that must have been so hard on you both, to transition into muggle life so abruptly like that.”

“Oh, it was insanely difficult. It was a huge culture shock, but we figured it out. Things were good between us back then, while we were on common ground.” He seemed wistful, transported to another time.

“You loved her,” Hermione said. She had always imagined that Draco and Astoria’s marriage had been arranged, but clearly that wasn’t the case. 

“Yes. As much as you can love someone when you’re still a selfish and immature 19-year-old.” Draco huffed a laugh. “But yes, as much as it was possible for me to love someone at that point; I loved her.” Draco rubbed his eyes with one hand and paused to think. Hermione stayed quiet, hesitant to interrupt.

“We were both just so screwed up after the war, and we came together when we both needed someone. It was an immature love, but it was love nonetheless.” Hermione nodded, surprised by how similar their story sounded to hers and Ron's.

“I know exactly what you mean.” They looked at each other and Draco nodded in understanding. 

“But that wasn’t enough to build an entire life upon. After a few years, I was happily adjusted and wanted to continue living in the muggle world. But Astoria wanted to go back to her high society pureblood life. I think she felt negligent of her mother’s legacy, but she also missed the lavish lifestyle we’d both grown up living. I mean, it’s not like we were hurting for money, but...I didn’t want to keep throwing our money around like our parents always have. I wanted life to be simpler. I wanted to be normal. And eventually, all we did was fight. Neither of us was happy. We ended up having Scorpius during a last-ditch effort to make things work, and that was really the beginning of the end for us.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, when Astoria found out that she was pregnant, our arguments about whether or not to return to the magical world just got worse. We couldn’t agree on anything pertaining to how we should raise our son. But I wanted to make things work for Scorpius’ sake, so I eventually caved and we moved back into the manor during her second trimester. My parents and Astoria were all thrilled, but now, looking back...it was a huge mistake. Being back at the manor nearly killed me; I couldn’t stand being there so I spent most of my time away. I was horrified over the idea of Scorpius being raised like she and I had been, with all the privileges of royalty but without any sense of what it really means to be happy ...” He trailed off, clearly shaken up. “And that’s not even the half of it.”

“You don’t have to share anymore if you don’t want to, Draco,” Hermione said sympathetically, seeing how much pain the retelling of his past brought him. 

“No... I need to get this out.” He took a drink and Hermione watched as his hand shook slightly, his fingers clenched tightly around the glass. “Scorpius was born several months early, so Astoria decided against making any sort of birth announcement. She wanted to wait until he was in full health and could introduce him at some sort of...gala or something?” Draco shook his head and Hermione cringed inwardly at the idea of a gala thrown for a newborn. “But before that could happen, we started receiving threats.” Hermione took a sharp intake of breath. 

“Threats of what?” She asked in a low voice. 

“Kidnapping; murdering our entire family; forcing me to watch as they killed Astoria and Scorpius…. you name it, and we were threatened by it. The threats were primarily directed at me, but they always included Scorpius in one way or another. I was so furious that I’d let Astoria talk me into returning. We knew it had to be someone close to the family because very few people knew we had come back, and even fewer knew about Scorpius’ birth.” 

Draco took the last gulp of his wine and set the empty glass on the table with a loud thunk. He stood up and began pacing again, his shoulders tight and his fists clenched. 

“Oh my God Draco, that’s terrible!” Hermione pressed a hand against her heart, horrified. 

“It was. And to make matters worse, before we’d even found who was sending the threats, I caught Astoria and Marcus Flint fucking in our greenhouse one afternoon. They hadn’t been expecting me, I wasn’t set to come home for several hours. ” Hermione stiffened, a fiery rage coursing through her at the thought of Astoria hurting Draco in nearly the same way that Ron had hurt her.

“You’re joking .” 

“I wish I was.”

“Draco, that’s….I don’t even know what to say. That’s fucked up.” 

“Ya, it was fucked up. In hindsight though, I’ve realized that she was terrified for her life and wasn’t actively trying to hurt me…” Draco sighed heavily and flopped back on the couch, slumped low on the cushions. “It’s not like she’s a bad person. Our marriage had been in shambles for over two years, and we’d barely spent any time together in months since I was always away from home, or spending time with Scorpius. But the fact was that we were both so unhappy and afraid. Astoria was just trying to create a way to escape from the situation she found herself in.” Hermione nodded and thought about her own situation - how she’d recently been coming to the realization that Ron was not the only one responsible for their relationship crashing and burning.

“Nothing is black and white,” Hermione whispered, and Draco agreed with a hmm.

“At the time though...I was livid. I’m not necessarily proud of it, but I almost beat Marcus to death.” Draco looked at her, his eyes dark and searching for the horror or disapproval he expected to see there.

But Hermione felt nothing of the sort. All she felt was a grim understanding of the kind of dark ruthlessness he spoke of. She met his gaze with no hesitation, and when he found only understanding reflected back at him, he continued. 

“I felt like I had sacrificed everything for her, returning to the manor, being willing to try being in the magical world again ...And she betrayed me.”

“So what did you do?” 

“Scorpius was well enough to travel by then, so that night I left with him. I didn’t tell anyone we were leaving, didn’t leave a note ...we just left. I had a private investigator begin looking for the source of the death threats since the Auror department wasn’t making any progress. Within a week he found the culprit... and I took care of him.” 

Draco looked at Hermione once again and she felt a shudder pass through her at the dark look on his face. She knew exactly what he meant by ‘ take care of him ’. Draco was telling her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t regret it; that he would do the same thing again.

Hermione understood perfectly. 

She found no fault in him for doing whatever it took to protect himself and his son. Hadn’t that been the reason behind all that he’d done when they were teenagers? Protecting those he loved? Hermione could think of nothing more compelling, more desirable, in another person. She had also done some extreme things in the name of love and would do them all again if she had to.

“Good,” Hermione said firmly, her voice rough with emotion. “I would have done the same.” She affirmed, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. “How did everyone else take you leaving?” She wondered, her voice breaking slightly. Draco sucked in another breath, a little surprised by her answer. 

“Not well, though I expected that. After I took care of our... problem, I wrote a letter to my parents and filed for a divorce and full custody of Scorpius. I had enough blackmail on Astoria to assure she wouldn’t try to fight me on it; not that she would want custody anyway.” Draco laughed humorlessly. “Astoria always viewed Scorpius as an obligation that she was required to fulfill. Produce the Malfoy Heir.” Draco shook his head in disgust while Hermione let out a long breath, overwhelmed with emotion for all that he’d been through. “Merlin, you don’t do anything by halves, do you?” she commented. 

Draco turned his body towards her so that one of his knees brushed against hers. Hermione wondered if his need to share was less about informing her about his ex, and more about his need to confess his misdeeds and gauge her reaction. Although tension still hung thick in the air, he seemed so much lighter after he had gotten out everything he needed to say. His face was clear now that his confessions had yielded nothing but understanding and commiseration from her. 

“No, I don’t.” Draco brushed her hair back and cupped her face, running a thumb along her cheek. “But I suspect that you don’t either.” He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, and Hermione leaned into him with no other provocation. She looked into his eyes, dark with visceral hunger, and she nearly shook with the need to be close to him. Draco ran his hand to the back of her head and pulled her the last few inches, pausing only for a moment before he captured her lips in a searing kiss.

Hermione immediately knew two things upon their lips meeting: Draco fit her more perfectly than she could ever have dreamed; and now that she had had just one taste of him, she was never going to want to go without. 

Boss Bitch List 

✔️ Pumpkin Patch

✔️ Hot cocoa with giant marshmallows

✔️ It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown

✔️ Make homemade Chicken Noodle Soup 

✔️ Go for a run

✔️ Kiss Draco Malfoy

Chapter Text

"We'll survive, you and I."

"He looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man."

F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Sunday, October 13 - Tuesday, October 15

Hermione rode into her third week in the Cotswolds on a high, Draco’s parting words to her after their kiss on Saturday night reverberating through her head. 

“You wreck me, Hermione Granger.”

Running began to grow easier as it once more became habitual. Hermione found herself investigating some of the trails that ran through the woods near her cottage, taking in the bright reds and oranges, and inhaling the aromas of the forest as if it were her lifeblood. With each step she pounded into the forest floor, she felt more and more like herself. 

After an early morning run on Monday, Hermione found herself in the mood to shop. A couple of quick pops later she arrived in her favorite shopping district in Paris. While she didn’t always adore clothes shopping, she could never resist a leisurely day strolling through the cobbled streets of her favorite city. Dressed accordingly in a chic black sweater dress, black tights, and ankle boots, Hermione fit right in with the other shoppers and meandered in and out of a few of her favorite stores. She found a few items for winter before stopping for an espresso and a fresh croissant at a little cafe with bright red awnings and a good view of the passerby. Next, she hunted for the perfect little black dress for her date with Draco and found what she was looking for after just a few stops - a dress that would prove to him, (just in case there was any lingering doubt), that she was no longer the ugly duckling of her youth. 

After her shopping was finished, Hermione stopped in at a nearby wine bar and enjoyed a glass of a vintage red while she chatted with some of the other patrons, happy to check off another item on her list: talk with a stranger.  Her last stop of the day was to her favorite little Parisian restaurant.  She sat outside enjoying a beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower, lit up and surrounded by a sea of brightly colored trees. 

It was late by the time she returned home, satisfied with a day - and some pocket change - well spent. 

On Tuesday, Hermione awoke full of ideas for her next novel. Bent on dedicating a chunk of the day to getting her thoughts onto paper, she headed over to the pub to get some lunch and work for the afternoon. She had already been working for over an hour when a tall shadow fell over her. 

“Hey there, love,” Draco said, bending to give her a kiss on the cheek before slipping into the seat across from her.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, pleasantly surprised to see him. 

“So, has inspiration struck?” Draco gestured to her laptop and notebook, covered in her thin, haphazard script. 

“Yes, actually!” Draco asked for more details and she excitedly shared some of her ideas. He proved to be an excellent backboard to bounce ideas off of and they continued to talk while he ate lunch. After an hour or so Draco sighed reluctantly and let her know he needed to get some work done - but would she mind sharing the table?

They worked for several hours, Draco making the occasional phone call, Hermione making the occasional inquiry for feedback. It was new territory for her - working alongside someone that was on the same intellectual level as her. 

It was a luxury she never thought she’d have.

Draco begged off to go pick up Scorpius from Kindergarten around 3, and Hermione headed back to the cottage for a well-deserved nap. 

This whole Holiday in the Cotswolds thing was growing on her. 

***

Wednesday, October 16 

Wednesday began early, with another morning run through the woods. The trees bore their fading leaves beautifully: the golden yellows, bright oranges and deep reds creating a merry rainbow of welcome as she blurred past. The branches wove together in a canopy above the path and Hermione felt that the trees must be nearly sentient in the way they shifted and called out to her. The wind raced alongside her, and together they created a symphony: branches creaking and shifting, leaves flying - fluttering - flowing down to the earth; her footsteps crunching on the hard dirt path, her blood pounding through her body, her breath whispering up to the sky. Wellbeing surged up along her muscles and into her chest. The strength she’d found in herself to run again was exhilarating. 

Upon her return to the cottage, Hermione sat on the back porch with her breakfast and a cup of tea. She had just been about to enjoy some time spent in a book when the owl arrived, a dark streak across an otherwise clear sky. 

A bad omen in her sea of hopefulness. 

Her hands shook as she untied the parchment and unfurled it, a dark pall falling upon her before she’d even read it. 

This was not the first letter she’d received from her ex-husband since their divorce. With each short missive written in Ron’s characteristically childish scrawl, memories of her marriage would cascade down upon her as though she were trapped within the tunnel of a mad kaleidoscope. Despite Hermione’s best efforts to control her thoughts, they always became blurred and twisted and took on a life of their own. 

Sure that this letter would be no different than the others, a faint voice in the back of her head advised her to leave the letter unread; to burn it in the tips of her fingers until it was nothing but ash in the wind. But for some sick reason, she had to know what it contained

Hermione, 

No one has heard from you since you left on your trip, and we’re all concerned.

Come home where you belong.

I miss you. 

Are you eating?

I just want what’s best for you. 

If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to come check on you in person. 

It’s my duty as your husband to take care of you, and I haven’t forgotten that. 

Don’t let this fight between us ruin our relationship. 

Yours, 

Ron

Hermione stood from the bench and strode into the kitchen. She paced around the table, into the living room and back to the kitchen, nausea whirling in the pit of her stomach. The parchment crumpled in her fist and she hunched over the sink, staring out the paned window but seeing nothing. The fire that had begun in her stomach danced into her chest and raced up her throat - an acrid wave of guilt and anger with a touch of madness. She clutched at her throat, gasping for air, and slid down the counter until she was in a heap on the floor, sobbing and gagging. 

Suddenly, the good mood that had felt so very concrete only minutes before was a thing of the past. 

Hermione begged herself to remember; remember that you can handle him. 

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the pain that came from remembering how the person that should have loved her the most had hurt her more deeply than she could have imagined. 

Just the thought of Ron coming to find her made her sick. 

She sat on the kitchen floor for merlin knows how long, simply trying to breathe. Eventually, her tail bone aching from the hard floor and her palms raw where she’d dug her nails into her skin, she stood.

The letter fell from her clenched fist and floated down to the kitchen floor. 

Longing for the comfort of her bed, Hermione stripped down to her underwear as she ascended the stairs and burrowed under the comforter. The sun blinked at her from the window as she shut her eyes against the world, drifting into a sorrow induced sleep. By the time she woke enough to pull herself from the bed, it was dark. With only her fuzzy robe wrapped around her, she made herself a snack - avoiding the letter that still lay on the floor - and went back to bed.

Her phone sat at the bottom of her purse where she’d left it next to the door the night before, Draco’s text wondering how her day had been left unseen and unanswered. 

***

Thursday, October 17th

Hermione decided immediately upon waking that there would be no running today. Once again avoiding the letter on the kitchen floor she bustled out of the house, hell-bent on not returning until she’d changed her attitude around. 

Unfortunately, after a haircut, a matinee film and some greasy fish and chips, her attitude had yet to improve. The melancholy that had set in the day before was running strong, and the words of Ron’s letter - along with all the other bullshit he’d ever said - continued to clang around in her head. Desperate to put off her return to the cottage, Hermione visited a nearby park that had a lovely walking trail, a pond, a white gazebo, and a children’s playground. She found a nice spot on a bench and settled to watch passerby, but this turned out to be a terrible idea. The playground was filled with happy children and their mothers, and Hermione’s heart withered and began to crumble. Within ten minutes of arriving, she left in a hurry, wracking her brains for another distraction. 

A trip to the store did nothing but prolong her suffering. She wandered aimlessly aisle to aisle, forcing herself to make selections even though her stomach was twisted in knots and nothing sounded at all worth eating. When Hermione got home, the groceries were shoved into the fridge - still jumbled inside the shopping bags - and she hauled herself up the stairs despite the early hour. The only thing she could bother to remove were her shoes, and she crawled under the heavy down comforter fully clothed. The covers were yanked up over her head and she curled in a ball, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. 

It was hours before she finally fell into a fitful sleep, chock-full of memories that had become living nightmares. 

***

Friday, October 18th

“Oh, you’re home,” he slurred, stumbling slightly as he headed towards her, reeking of firewhiskey and someone else’s perfume. “What are you wearing anyway?”

“You clearly forgot what tonight was, Ronald.”

“What was-”

“It was my award’s ceremony tonight for-” 

Ron knocked over a lamp and yelped, cutting her off. “Oh please, you can’t be upset over me missing some boring, practically fake awards ceremony”... Hermione screeched in anger. 

“Just because it was for a MUGGLE children’s book doesn’t mean it was a FAKE-”

——

Hermione was being pulled along the ground by her hair, terror coursing through her as Malfoy Manor came into view. She kicked and thrashed even harder than before upon realizing where she was being taken, but was smacked upside the head for struggling, and her captor continued along the gravel path undeterred….

——

Pain rocketed through her body and Hermione clutched at her stomach in shock. When she pulled her hands away from herself, she stared down in horror at the blood that coated them….

——

Her childhood home - the remains burned and crumbling, smoke rising to the sky, the vivid green mark of a snake and skull hovering tauntingly above it….  

——

Ron sat on their balcony with his work boots propped on the railing, a beer in his hand. Bottles covered the table and old crisp bags littered the floor. Hermione slid open the door and peeked her head through. “Just wanted to let you know I was home,” she said quietly. “But the next leg of my book tour begins in two days. It’s been going really well so my editor booked more cities for us to visit.” Ron said nothing but turned to look at her with blank eyes. She didn’t bother coming any closer... what was the point? Even so, her heart sank in her chest when he looked away from her without even a word in greeting…

——

A poisoned knife began slicing into her skin, her own blood-curdling screams ringing in her ears. Pain slid through her veins like she was on fire; she was burning to death from the inside out…

——

“What kind of person has a miscarriage and doesn’t even cry?”

——

“She’s a nightmare, honestly! It’s no wonder she hasn’t got any friends.”

——

“You never even wanted this baby with me; it’s your fault that we lost her, Hermione.”

——

A finger pointed at her jeeringly, his face filled with disgust. “What have you done, Hermione?”

——

She passed through a courtyard filled with corpses and acromantulas, darting between bolts of red and green light, the air filled with smoke that stung her eyes. A forced cough escaped her lungs and she tripped, her knees hitting the hard stones beneath her. The gnarled hands of a werewolf grabbed her shoulders and flipped her onto her back before landing on top of her, groping her and grabbing her throat, squeezing until….

Hermione woke with a start and sat bolt upright, her chest heaving. She ripped the covers off and tore at her clothes as though they were choking her. Gagging, she rushed to the bathroom and barely made it before she threw up, her body purging the nightmares of its own accord. 

Despite it being three in the morning, she knew there would be no chance of returning to sleep. 

A hot shower and a cup of tea did little to ease her mind, though they did help to calm her erratic heartbeat. Unable to bear keeping the memories locked inside her brain, she dug out the sketch pad and charcoal pencils she always kept on hand and pushed the coffee table to the side of the living room. 

Her things spread out on the floor, she went to work. 

Sketching had always been second to writing for Hermione, but sometimes it helped her to process things that couldn’t be put into words. Scenes from the war, conversations with Ron, nightmares that her mind had concocted on its own - they were all game. One by one, the dreams that had flooded her subconscious flowed through her fingers and onto the pages before her. 

By the time she had exhausted herself and used up all of her paper, her hands and face were covered in charcoal smudges; her eyes bloodshot and tired. With a flick of her wrist, the pages rose into the air in a whirl and were stuck to the living room walls between the kitchen and the bookshelves where she could stand and look at them. 

The scenes were all intimately familiar, but sometimes they felt as though they had happened to someone else. 

She stood and looked at her wall of demons in 2D for a long time, her mind far away. 

The rest of the day passed by in an exhausted haze, her soul wrung out. She continued to avoid the letter that lay on the kitchen floor and didn’t even think of her phone - which now lay dead in her purse with more missed communications from Draco.

The sun set on Friday with Hermione already in bed, her mind a blank stretch of canvas, so exhausted from the pain that she simply thought of nothing at all. 

***

Saturday, October 19

Hermione trudged up the stairs of their walk-up, a suitcase in one hand, her large handbag in the other. She had just finished the last of her book tour and was coming home for the first time in over two months. 

She and Ron had had no contact since that day she had come home from the first part of her tour when he hadn’t been willing to even greet her hello. She had sent him letters and had spoken with Ron’s family, but there had been no response from him personally. Unsure of what kind of reception she should expect upon her arrival, she unlocked the door with hesitancy and stepped into the apartment. 

The place was completely trashed - but that wasn’t at all surprising. What was surprising were the sounds coming from the bedroom. As if in a dream, Hermione shut the front door quietly and set down her bags before crossing to the bedroom, where the door stood ajar. With a loud creaking, it swung open and there was her husband - fucking another woman from behind.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. 

Ron’s eyes slid to her and he looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. “So you finally decided to come home, huh?” With rehearsed nonchalance, he pulled out from the other woman’s cunt. “Didn’t realize that was today.” 

As though it was no big deal for him to be sleeping with someone else. 

As if he didn’t know precisely when she would be coming home.

“Get out,” Ron told the blond flippantly, and the other woman looked between the two of them for a moment before grabbing her clothes and apparating away in a huff. 

“I can’t believe you’d stoop this low, Ron,” she hissed, glaring as he put on his pants. 

“Oh please, like you weren’t sleeping around on that tour of yours.” He shrugged on his pants and pushed past her on his way to the kitchen. “You were gone for months, Hermione!”

“Of course I wasn’t sleeping around! I would never cheat on you - never!” 

“It doesn’t matter if you did or not. What you’ve done is worse - so much worse!” he raged, finally losing his cool. 

“Seriously?! And what exactly did I do to deserve this, Ron?”

“You never wanted our baby and it’s your fault we lost her! You didn’t even cry afterward, Hermione! What kind of person doesn’t even cry after they’ve had a miscarriage? And then you wouldn’t speak to me - and then you just left. YOU left ME - so don’t try to pretend otherwise!” 

Hermione’s chest heaved and she struggled to contain the rage that was simmering inside of her. 

She wanted to remind him of the letters she’d sent to him while she had been away - it wasn’t as if she had ceased all contact. He could have joined her on weekends or evenings but had chosen not to respond to a single letter. She wanted to tell him that she had been thinking of leaving him for months, even before she accidentally got pregnant. But what would be the point? She had walked up the steps uncertain how their relationship would proceed - but he had made the decision quite easy for her.

“I want a divorce,” She told him with unhesitating finality. Ron’s face twisted and he laughed humorlessly.

“Just tell me where to sign.” 

“Good. Now get the hell out of my flat. I’ll have your stuff sent to the burrow within the week,” she informed him. Ron looked at her incredulously. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? YOUR flat?!” 

“Yes, MY flat. I’ve paid for it, and my name is on the lease. Now GET OUT before I MAKE you!” Hermione bared her teeth and twirled her wand in her fingertips. Ron’s face had escalated to a deep red and he was visibly shaking in anger - but even Ron wasn’t stupid enough to come any closer when she was armed.

He’d never been a match for her and everyone knew it.

With a roar, Rom summoned his wallet and his keys and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. It echoed through the building and shook the door frame, and for a moment the slam played over and over in her brain. 

Hermione sunk to the floor, shaking - but still, her eyes were dry. 

***

The sun was just beginning to rise above the hills when Hermione woke Saturday morning, gasping and covered in sweat. The sheets were tangled around her legs, the comforter in a pile at the end of the bed, the contents of the bedside table swept to the floor at some point in the night.

Despite her efforts to exorcise the demons that plagued her the day before, others had simply risen up to claim her.

The last thing she had said to her father before he was killed. 

The incessant thump of a beetle trapped within a jar, clamoring to escape. 

Wandering through the all-consuming darkness of the forbidden forest, with God-knows-what lurking in the shadows. 

A crumpled form lying beneath the astronomy tower. 

Her parents’ bodies strung up in their backyard, charred yet still recognizable. 

A vampire hovering behind her, waiting to sink his teeth into her neck.

Colin Creevey’s face smashed into the dirt, blood pouring from his lips. 

The evening she’d come home to find Ron fucking someone else. 

Hermione woke with her pulse racing as if she had been running. Although the darkness outside was beginning to brighten, everything was still dim and still within the cottage. She felt around for the wand she kept beneath her pillowcase and also grabbed her spare - the one that was always either strapped to her calf or lying just beneath the mattress - and held them both at the ready, arms shaking. She pushed back the sweat-soaked hair from her face with an elbow and listened intently for any noise that may be out of place. 

Hermione’s logical mind awoke and told her that nothing was amiss - but it wasn’t strong enough to drown out the raging paranoia that had flooded her body. She slipped out of bed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing tall as though something might be waiting for her right outside the door. Silencing the door nonverbally so that it wouldn’t creak, she swung it open and checked both directions before heading down the stairs to investigate the rest of the house. 

All the doors and windows remained locked, and there was nothing out of place. There had been no ding on her wards.

They’re just memories, Hermione. You’re safe. 

Trying to quiet her racing mind, Hermione turned on all the lights, clicked on the telly and made a cup of tea. Slumping down onto the couch, Hermione mindlessly watched the weather report and tried to breathe normally. 

Just breathe. 

Breathe. 

Breathe. 

Breathe. 

Finally calm enough to doze, Hermione slipped further down the couch and fell back asleep, both wands still clutched in her hands, her tea growing cold on the table. 

***

It was a few hours later when she woke, the sun now high in the sky. Drowsy and cotton-mouthed from all the sleeping she’d been doing, she made her way groggily through her morning routine before settling back down on the couch with a cup of coffee and a light breakfast. She was just about to change the channel away from the news when she heard the date and time. With a yelp Hermione jumped up, frantically searching for her purse. 

Today was the date she was supposed to go on a date with Draco.

It took an inordinate amount of time to find the damn phone - and then the charger, and then to get it plugged in. She sat anxiously waiting for it to light up, tapping her foot as it charged. 

It wasn’t until several minutes later that the messages came in. 

Wednesday - Hey Hermione, how’s your day? Yesterday was fun. 

Thursday - Hey, want to meet up at the pub this afternoon? 

Her heart sank at having missed the texts. She clicked the voicemail he’d left just the night before. 

“Heyyyy Hermione, you aren't ghosting me, are you? I know where you live.” He laughed awkwardly. “Just wanted to see if we were still on for tomorrow. Scorpius is spending the weekend at the Manor with my Mother, but I have to take care of some work until about 3. Give me a call and let me know. Bye.”

Hermione glanced at the time and realized it was 3:30, and immediately dialed him back before she could second guess herself. The phone rang and rang, and just when she thought it would go to voicemail, he answered. 

“Hey there. You are a hard woman to get ahold of.”

“Heyyy, sorry about that. I’ve been off the grid for a few days.”

“I thought you might be avoiding me.” He laughed weakly and Hermione’s heart clenched.

“No, not at all. I just hadn’t checked my phone since Wednesday morning and got kind of caught up. Sorry to make you worry. Are we still on for tonight?” She asked hopefully.

“Ya, definitely! How does seven sound?” Draco’s voice relaxed and she did too, happy that things were so easily smoothed over. 

“Sounds great!”

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at seven then.” 

“Ok, see you then. Looking forward to it!”

“Me too. Bye!”

“Bye,” she said breathlessly. 

She sat back for a moment before deciding to go on a quick run to get her head screwed on straight. 

She had a date to get ready for. 

***

The run began with promise, but by the time Hermione had reached her normal path her mind had begun to spiral. 

The paranoia from that morning hadn’t fully dissipated, and deciding to go into the woods had been a mistake. 

The forest felt haunted instead of friendly; the fog ominous and chilling rather than inviting. There were faces in the trunks of the trees and in the gnarled branches that wove together above, watching her every move. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and twice she whipped around, certain that someone was closing in on her from behind. 

Each time she turned, there was nothing to see. 

Paranoia set deep into her bones and the benign woods of the Cotswolds became The Forbidden Forest; the Forest of Dean; the woods next to the Malfoy’s property in Wiltshire. Bloodthirsty Werewolves, murderous centaurs, hungry acromantulas. Death Eaters, giants, vampires, and hags. She’d faced every creature of her nightmares in one wood or another, and today they were coming to find her. 

A leisurely jog became a sprint for her life. Running had always been a way for her to manage her PTSD, but after the triggers of the last three days, it became a vehicle for yet another terrible panic attack. 

Hermione sprinted off the trail, flying haphazardly between the trees, her feet catching in the underbrush. Hidden logs jumped out and sent her flying to the ground, banging up her hands and knees, but she would drag herself up and continue on. Skidding to a sudden stop she searched the skies, looking for the assailant she just knew was after her. Branches whipped across her face, blood and sweat pouring into her eyes. She tumbled down a slope and into a creek and came up gasping for air, chilled to the bone. 

The water woke her to reality and a sob wrenched from her lips. Gathering her will power, she apparated to the stoop of the cottage, ripped the front door open and locked it quickly behind her. Her back thudded against the door with a gasp and she slid down to the floor, catching her breath for a moment before the sobs threatened to overtake her.

Heaving herself to her feet, she stumbled into the kitchen and hunted for the firewhiskey that was stashed somewhere. The need to sob was rising steadily in her chest and she poured the whiskey down her throat as she headed to the stairs, struggling to rip off her clothes with one hand as she went. 

There was only one place she could go when things got this bad. 

In minutes the tub was filled with scalding water, and she had barricaded herself into the bathroom with all the protective enchantments she could muster. Even if a bomb went off in the next room, there was a good chance she’d be left standing. Hermione sunk into the water and poured more whiskey down her throat before lighting a cigarette and taking a long pull. 

One long pull and another. One more gulp and then another. 

At last, the ringing in her ears abated. 

She sighed in relief that she had held back the sobbing, at least for the time being.

The terror washed away with the whiskey and her heart rate slowed to a gentle thrum. Her brain settled down and she whispered to herself: 

Safe. 

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

One cigarette, and then another, and then another. Eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling, the back of her head cradled on the cold porcelain of the tub. 

By the time she woke from her stupor, the 5th of firewhiskey was three-quarters of the way gone. She pried herself from the tub and wrapped herself in a towel, unsteadily stepping from the waters and trying to muddle through how the fuck she was going to make herself presentable. 

***

An hour and a half later, Hermione patted herself on the back. Actually patted herself on the back, and almost fell to the ground giggling over it. Hermione looked damn good, and she knew it. 

A form-fitting little black dress, cocktail length with an open back. Classic and simple, with red lipstick, dark shadowy eyes, and black platform heels. Perfect . Her hair in a messy chignon, a few curls framing her face. The doorbell rang and she slipped and skidded down the stairs.

“Draco! You’re here!” She cried as she threw open the door, attempting to lean sexily in the doorframe only to trip over her feet. 

Hermione righted herself, inviting him inside. 

It’ll be great! She told herself. He’ll never know you’re drunk, just be cool .  

Unfortunately, things only went downhill from there.

***

It was clear to Draco the moment Hermione swung open her front door that she was absolutely, totally, ridiculously smoking hot. He had always thought so, ever since they were teenagers.

It was also clear that she was completely and totally sloshed. 

Hermione swung forward unsteadily after greeting him, and he caught her around the shoulders with a laugh. She invited him in while she traipse around gathering her purse and jacket. He had just a few moments to look around, and his eyebrows shot to his hairline at the sight before him. 

Empty wine bottles littered the coffee table, tissues and books and mugs strewn over the couch and the floor. There was a trail of clothes strewn across the front entry and up the stairs, as though she had ripped them off in a hurry. He had just gotten a glimpse of some savagely detailed charcoal illustrations that had been haphazardly stuck to the walls when she came back into the room, draped in an elegant black trench that hung to her knees, a small clutch in one hand. She grinned and sauntered over to him, but his eyes were fixed on her artwork. A slew of dark creatures and dead bodies - people they had known; The Dark Lord looming; Bellatrix and her poisoned blade; his sixteen-year-old self lurking in a dark Hogwarts corridor. 

But many of the images were of a woman alone.

It wasn’t until he looked closer before he realized that the woman was her .

Alone in a sea of people. Alone in a living room staring out at a man sitting on the patio, his back to her. Alone in an extravagant bathroom, her arms slung over the sides of the tub, blood pouring from both wrists and pooling onto the floor. 

Alone, her hands clutching her pregnant abdomen, screaming. 

Draco’s heart stopped as his gaze ran quickly over as many as he could, but there were too many to catch them all - there must have been over a hundred. Her work was hauntingly beautiful, so accurate in their depictions that they could be photographs. 

Hermione smoothed the lapels of his suit coat down and brushed her lips against his cheek, asking if he was ready to go; or if he would rather they just stay in . Her hands slid down to his abdomen as he continued to stare at the drawings.

Draco’s chest squeezed painfully as she ran her lips along his jaw. The physical glimpse of what was happening inside of her mind was such a stark contrast to the outward facade she was presenting to the world, and Draco hated that she was in pain. 

He knew what it felt like to be dark and twisted inside.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from walls, he grabbed her hands - noting her bruised and scratched palms - and caught them before they could slide lower down his body. He eyed the faint scratches on her cheeks that she’d covered heavily in makeup, and wondered how she had come to be so scratched up, reeking of smoke and drunk as a skunk. 

“I don’t think so, Miss Granger,” he drawled. “Let’s get you something to eat, shall we? And how about some water while we’re at it…”

***

It turned out that a drunk Hermione Granger was harder to corral than a 5-year-old hopped up on too much sugar and not enough sleep. 

He got her wrangled into the car, but she tried to kiss him while he buckled her in, and when he turned to shut her door, she smacked him on the arse. 

Gods he was smitten with this crazy witch. She was insane and unpredictable and he felt instinctively that she was turning out to be the most interesting person he’d ever met. 

They stopped at a gas station where he made her drink some water. It seemed to help a smidge, but she was still plastered. Recalling what she’d told him on their first meeting - that her friends had insisted she needed a holiday - and he chuckled to himself as he got buckled in. 

In need of a holiday, indeed.

Hermione immediately took control of the radio and blasted dance music on the way to the restaurant. While it wasn’t necessarily his normal cup of tea, Draco thought that he had never seen a sight more perfect than Hermione in the passenger seat, singing at the top of her lungs, curls blowing in the wind. 

She laughed too loudly in the restaurant, didn’t eat with any decorum whatsoever, and nearly fell out of her chair at some point - and Draco thought it was hysterical. He nearly spat out his drink when she told an inappropriate joke she’d seen on the internet, and all the other patrons of the expensive Italian restaurant looked over scandalously at her crude language.

Draco didn’t care in the slightest.  

They shared a delicious creme-brulee for dessert and the noises of enjoyment she made nearly sent him to an early grave. 

When they exited the restaurant, Hermione heard live music coming from the pub across the street. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, screaming that they had to go - they simply had to. He happily allowed her to pull him into the pub and through the crowd of dancers, capturing her delighted face in his memory to hold there forever. 

Eyes alight with laughter, red lips smudged and curved into a seductive smile, curls mussed and falling around her face. 

They danced; her hands around his shoulders, his on her waist. Her dress stretched tightly across her tiny, lithe body, and he pressed his thumbs against her hip bones, loving the gasp it wrung from her lips. He enjoyed the feeling of her brushing against him, leaning on him, her eyes fixed on him unwaveringly.

But after a while, he knew it was time to take her home, and he led her outside into the chilly autumn night. 

***

It was nearing eleven when Draco helped Hermione up the steps to her front door and rifled through her clutch to find her keys. Her head lolled against his shoulder and she hummed to herself as he unlocked the door. He turned the knob and Hermione pushed the door open, twisting to step in front of him and tug on the lapels of his coat. 

“Why don’t you come in for a nightcap?” She said lowly, her eyes dark. Draco chuckled and stepped through the door, closing and locking it behind him. 

“I will come in, Hermione, love - but only to make sure you get safely settled in for the night, and for no other reason.” She laughed and twirled dangerously in a circle. 

“Oh really? Are you telling me you don’t want some of this ?” She let her coat slip from her shoulders and fall to a heap on the floor before sliding one strap off her shoulder and backing away towards the stairs. 

Draco shook his head and laughed. She was every bit the gorgeous temptress - but he wasn’t tempted even in the slightest. Despite how very much he already liked her, he felt no urge to accept such an invitation when she wasn’t sober. 

“Oh my dear, I very much want.” He put a steadying hand on her back as she ascended the stairs, just before she began to tip backward. He scooped her up from behind and swung her into his arms and she squealed in surprise as he carried her the rest of the way up. 

“But there’s going to be none of that tonight, I assure you.” He set her back to the ground when they reached the top. “Now where’s your-”

But before he could get out the word bathroom, she gagged and stumbled forward to the door down the hall. A toilet seat clanked open and Draco heard her heaving into the toilet. 

“ Right on schedule,” he drawled to himself. 

***

Hermione sunk to the floor next to the toilet. She felt like she might be dying, but the pounding of her skull said otherwise. Flashes of the night flew through her mind and she moaned in embarrassment. A glass of water appeared next to her face with a hand attached to it. 

“Oh Merlin Draco, why the fuck are you still here?! I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I got so drunk.” she groaned and accepted the water, taking a tentative sip. He held out a hand and helped her up. Hermione immediately tried to turn away, but he backed her up against the bathroom counter and cupped her face, making it impossible for her to hide from him.

“I’m here because you’re special to me, Hermione. I want to know you. And don’t be embarrassed - I had a great time tonight.” He bent down to give her a kiss on the forehead and then reached into the shower, turning it on and testing the water until it was temperate. 

“There. Take a shower, and when you feel a bit better come join me for some tea downstairs,” he headed towards the door and began to close it, but peaked his head back in to say, “And I mean tea - that’s not code for something else. If you’re not down in half an hour I'm going to come find you - so no hiding away up here.” He winked and shut the door shut behind him. 

Hermione hung her head and let out the deep breath she’d been holding.  

Draco was a bit of a mind fuck. 

He hadn’t even said anything about the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and cigarette butts that littered the floor around the tub.

She stripped and carefully eased beneath the hot spray of the shower. She let it stream over her for a moment before sliding down to the floor, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. 

The thought of sharing what was going on inside of her with someone else had never even crossed her mind. Before running into Draco, no one in her life had been trustworthy enough for her to even think of it. But now that the opportunity was upon her, Hermione wondered if that’s what she had needed all along. 

Someone that she could trust. 

Someone that could help shoulder the weight she’d been carrying.  

***

Hermione descended the stairs slowly, dressed in her favorite leggings and hoodie, her face free of makeup and her hair still wet. She hesitated on the bottom step, watching as Draco studied the sketches hanging on the living room walls. 

The room had been cleared of debris and set to rights, with a fire blinking merrily in the hearth and a tea service waiting on the coffee table. A quick glance to the left revealed that the kitchen had been cleared as well. Another wave of embarrassment passed over her at being so exposed to Draco. She hadn’t even thought of making her home presentable before inviting him inside when he arrived to pick her up because she’d been so caught up in her self. 

Her life was a complete disaster, while he seemed so very put together. 

What did he even want with someone like her? 

Draco leaned close to one sketch in particular and brought his cup up to his lips, and Hermione gathered the courage to descend the last stair into the room.  

“I was beginning to think I might need to come rescue you from the bathroom.” he joked, and Hermione laughed wryly.

“Not this time….” she laughed awkwardly and settled down on the couch to prepare a cup of tea. “Thanks for cleaning up around here, I’m sorry that things were such a mess…” Draco withdrew his wand and twirled it for her between his fingers, indicating his chosen chore method. 

“Only took a mo, no worries.” Hermione felt a weight lift at his casual response to her mayhem. “How are you feeling? I would have given you a sober up earlier, or a hangover relief when we got here but I don’t keep potions on hand anymore.” Hermione just waved him off, wondering idly if Draco had also had a problem with substance abuse or chemical potion dependency when they were younger, as she had.

“I’m alright; not feeling my best but it could be worse. I don’t keep potions around either. The tea will help.” Draco nodded and turned back to continue studying her work.  

“So…. what do you think of my wall of horrors, Draco?” Hermione threw out in an attempt at nonchalance, despite feeling the exact opposite. No one had borne witness to so many of the dark corners of her soul before, and she worked hard to keep her hands from shaking. 

These pieces of art had been created under the belief that no one would ever see them. There had been no barriers between her mind and her fingertips; no refinement or filter to prepare them for public viewing. But now that Draco was here, taking them in ...Hermione was anxious and desperate to hear what he thought. 

To hear whether or not he found her mad, or dark beyond salvageability. 

Draco paused and shoved a hand into his pocket, hunching his shoulders for a moment before rolling his neck. 

Deciding what to say. 

Hermione couldn’t help but stare as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving slowly along the wall, unfinished with his perusal.  

Even in such sobering circumstances, she couldn’t deny how handsome he was. 

He’d laid his suit coat on the back of the couch and rolled up his sleeves to above his elbows, the crisp dress shirt he wore stretching perfectly across his broad shoulders. If she were in a different mood, those tattooed forearms with raised veins running down to his hands - his biceps visible through his shirt - would have her salivating. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so attracted to someone, and although she was embarrassed about her drunken display…. she couldn’t even blame herself for propositioning him. 

She deeply appreciated that his instinct was to take care of her, rather than take advantage of her. There hadn’t been many people in her life that were like that.

Draco remained quiet for a moment longer before answering. When he finally spoke, he remained facing away from her. 

“They’re…..Merlin Granger. I don’t even have words for this. They’re absolutely fucking incredible.”

Hermione sucked in a breath and her eyes bugged out, having expected anything but the word incredible . Psychotic maybe, but not incredible. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this in the world of wizarding art culture. There might be some comparability to this style in the muggle world, but there’s nothing like this wizarding world. These are so ... real . Raw, exposed ... organic .... I can’t tear my eyes away.” He moved to the second wall she had covered, running his hands along some of the pages. “They’re dark, and tragic...but so intensely beautiful at the same time ...”

Finally, he turned to face her. Hermione looked away sharply when he met her eyes, fresh tears threatening to spill over. She shook her head and took a breath, rolled her neck, her eyes bugging again as she absorbed his appraisal. 

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that. I didn't expect to ever show them to anyone. I just had to get them out of my head,” She admitted, rising to stand beside him. He turned back to the wall and they both looked, taking it in. 

“These are memories?” he murmured, placing a hand on her lower back.

“Yes,” she breathed out on an exhale. “A couple are what could have been if things had gone differently...a couple are just dreams ...But most of them are memories.”

“Is this what you meant by going off the grid?” he wondered, moving back to the couch. She joined him, her knees brushing his as she tucked her feet under herself. 

“Kind of ...this was part of it but….I just…..the last couple of days have been rough, and then today I went for a run and the woods….which was a mistake. Sometimes when I get like this, I get panic attacks. I should have known better than to go into the woods this afternoon alone.” Draco murmured in understanding, reaching out and running a thumb across one of the vivid red scratches that ran along her cheek, no longer covered by makeup. 

Draco waited patiently for her to continue. 

“Fuck….I don’t know how to talk about any of this.” She leaned her head back against the couch and looked at the ceiling with a huff, her heart rate picking up, overwhelm simmering just below the surface. 

“I haven’t spoken to anyone about most of this.” Draco nodded and placed a comforting hand on her knee. 

“You don’t have to share anything else tonight if you don’t want to Hermione.” 

“I know ...but if you’re willing to listen, I think it might help me to get it out. That’s what I was trying to do with all of this…” she gestured to the walls, “and it was a start ...but I think words would be good. Besides, you told me yours last weekend.” she glanced at him to find his kind eyes watching her intently, earnestly. He grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the bruised heel of her palm gently. 

“I’m here to listen for as long as you want to talk, love.”

***

Hermione started at the beginning. 

She and Ron had been fine at the start, but they had begun to drift apart after a few good years together. The cracks that had always been there grew wider and wider until they were chasms, stretching deep into the heart of their relationship. 

When they were young and in love, Hermione thought Ron would never hurt her again like he had when they were children. But when things became hard, he began to hurt her once more in all the same ways. What she had once called complementary differences - they help us balance each other , she’d say - eventually became unsolvable controversies. 

Draco listened with understanding as Hermione admitted that it wasn’t just Ron’s fault; it had been hers too. They were immature and stubborn, and let things spiral out of control. That part of it was on her. But the rest ...how badly things had ended ...that was on Ron. 

The pregnancy had been a complete surprise. 

It had been the first time they had been together in over a year, and it was the last time they ever would be. Hermione hid her face in her hands as the truth slipped out of her mouth.

Their frantic coupling could only be described as hate sex. They had been arguing - screaming at each other  - and the tension had mounted until suddenly their mouths were clashing intensely. Ron had spun her around and slammed her against the kitchen counter, forced his hand around her throat and held her down. 

For a moment, it had felt like a satisfying culmination of one too many arguments….. but their rough coupling had lasted less than ten minutes, and the brief feeling of satisfaction that she had at the beginning turned quickly into cold dread. 

Draco gripped her hand tightly as she spoke, his face dark, a scowl marring his usually happy features. 

When Ron was finished, he had ripped away from her and stormed from the apartment in a fury, leaving Hermione to cry in the kitchen with bruises on her neck and hips and arms. 

He didn’t come home that night. 

A few weeks later, Hermione went to see a healer, thinking that she had the stomach flu - only to find out that she was pregnant. 

That her child had been conceived under such terrible circumstances was heartbreaking, and she told Draco so. He caught the tear that ran down her cheek and nodded in understanding, murmuring words of comfort. 

At a quarter past one, they took a much-needed break from the heaviness that lingered over them and headed to the kitchen. Hermione saw that Draco had placed Ron’s letter on the kitchen table but she said nothing of it. By two, they were settled back in the living room, plates full of pancakes and bacon, and they spoke of their more lighthearted memories of Hogwarts as they ate. 

Once they had finished, Draco steered the conversation back to her. He had seen the covered walls - he must have an idea of what was coming next. Hermione found the words rushing out like a dam had been broken. Tears ran uninhibited down her cheeks and neck, and she choked it out as quickly as possible. 

The baby had been a surprise, but Hermione had been desperately happy and in love with her child right from the start. 

But her love for her baby seemed to push her even further out of love with Ron. It was clear from the beginning that he wanted to use the baby to manipulate her into becoming a person that she wasn’t. He didn’t love her for who she was; how could he love a baby when he had shown himself to be so incapable of loving her ?

But the point was moot because at fourteen weeks she had a miscarriage. The healers suspected that she was likely unfit to carry a baby to full term due to her exposure to the cruciatus. 

Draco cradled her in his arms, rocking her as she sobbed. 

Hermione confessed that up until the divorce, she had been unable to cry over her lost baby. Everyone thought that she was mad. She thought that maybe she was, too. 

In reality, it had been numbness. Shock. She had walled herself away and protected herself from the enemy that Ron had become. She couldn’t show him any weakness, so she hadn’t cried - not once - until the night her divorce had been finalized. 

Hermione’s tears abated and she blew her nose, steeling herself. 

Unfortunately, the hard part of her overdue confession was not over. 

It was half-past three, and she steeled herself for the very worst of it.

Ron had been insistent that it was her fault she had lost the baby, she told Draco in a whisper. 

He thought she didn’t want the baby - but really, she just hadn’t wanted him . And did Draco think that maybe , just maybe, Ron had been right?

But Draco took her face in his hands and told her firmly that no - it was not her fault that she had lost her baby - and she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed - sobbed more than she ever had allowed herself to on her own - because finally, it was safe to let it go

Draco had her. 

He pulled her towards him and she clambered up onto his lap, straddling him. He ran one hand up to the back of her head and held her face pressed against his neck, while the other ran soothing circles on her back. 

She had never been held like this, anchored to another human in such a way. She cried and she cried and kept crying until her spirit had quieted and she felt impossibly empty, the worst of her fears released into the ether. 

Finally, Hermione had calmed and was ready to stretch her stiff muscles out. 

They made fresh cups of tea and headed to the back porch. They curled up together on the swing, wrapped in a blanket with a strong warming charm hovering over them. Draco asked her about the divorce - was there more to the story ? And Hermione sighed and said yes - and told him about how she had left for her book tour shortly after the miscarriage; how the blame he’d laid upon her was the final nail in the coffin. How he had brought someone home to sleep with the night she returned home, at precisely the time she was set to arrive, so that she would see. 

Draco listened quietly, posing a question here or there, and the clock had just struck five in the morning when he asked about the letter that had been on the floor. He admitted to reading it, and she admitted to the way that it had triggered her 4-day bender. 

The nightmares. 

The paranoia. 

The spirling hopelessness. 

By six o’clock, they had both fallen silent, absorbing all that had been said, brains tired, hearts hurting but forged together in a way neither had experienced before. 

Hermione felt as though the weight she had been carrying alone for so long had been lifted from her shoulders. It wasn’t completely gone, but suddenly it felt more manageable than it had the day before.

They snuggled close as the sun began to rise, both stifling yawns. Draco turned her face towards his and met her lips in the most luxurious kiss she’d ever experienced. Their mouths moved decadently over each other, soaking each other up. The birds began to sing and a chilly breeze whisked by. A stillness settled upon the earth, a mirror to the stillness that Hermione finally felt inside of herself. 

They broke apart to catch their breath and Draco stood up to stretch before he beckoned her to stand. With surprising swiftness given they’d stayed up all night, he swooped down and lifted her into his arms, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. With easy smiles, he carried her up the stairs as though she weighed nothing and plopped her into the bed. 

Draco closed the curtains and turned off the lights, and Hermione shrugged off her hoodie so that she remained in only her leggings and sports bra. She snuggled under the comforter and let her eyes fall shut, knowing without having to ask that Draco would be joining her. 

She felt him slide in behind her in just a pair of boxers, and she pressed her back into his chest, a contented sigh falling from her lips.  

“I like you, Hermione Granger,” he whispered pressing a kiss to her ear. 

“I like you too, Draco Malfoy,” she whispered sleepily back to him; and they drifted off together, Draco’s arms wrapped snugly around her waist. 

It was the best sleep Hermione had had in years. 

***

Sunday, October 20th

It was half-past noon when they woke suddenly to a nearby ringing. Hermione sat up and looked around jerkily, but Draco just grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to him before reaching for his wand on the bedside table, which was ringing and vibrating.

“Just my alarm, I’ve gotta pick up Scorp in an hour,” Draco mumbled, nuzzling into her hair. His hand ran down her arm and across her bare stomach and she gasped, immediately wide awake. She felt Draco smirk against her neck and she rolled to face him, her lips immediately flying to meet his. She pressed herself against him and was just about to roll on top of him when Draco’s phone began to ring. 

“Dammit,” Draco mumbled against her lips, pulling away to check who was calling. “Sorry, love, it’s Scorp.” She released him and he grabbed the phone, swinging his legs over the bed to sit up as he answered.

“Hey bud, are you having a fun time with Nanna?” 

Hermione swooned into cuteness overload as Draco chatted with Scorpius, and she ran a hand up and down his bare back, loving the feel of his ivory skin beneath her fingertips. 

“Ya, I can come get you in a bit and then we can decide what we want to check off today. Sound good? Ok, be good for Nana. Love you.”

Draco hung up and swung around to plant another kiss on her lips, but it was much too short for her liking. Draco groaned as he pulled away. 

“As much as I’d love to stay in bed with you all day, I’ve got to shower and change before I go over to the manor.” Draco grimaced as he stood, pulling on his slacks and dress shirt. Hermione stayed lounging on the bed, admiring the view. 

“That’s alright, I understand,” she said with a smile. 

“Hey, what do you think about joining us later to check something else of Scorp’s list? I know he’d love to see you,” Draco smiled eagerly, and Hermine’s heart soared. 

“I’d love to! That sounds great.” 

Draco had finished dressing and descended upon her again. Hermione took a tall knee and wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him back down with her. Draco resisted, chuckling into her lips. 

“If I get back in that bed with you there’s no way I’m going to have the willpower to leave again.”

“Ooo-k, I guess I'll let you leave. What time do you want me to come over?”

“How about two-thirty? We can have lunch and make a plan.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hermione said, a ridiculously large grin on her face. 

Draco looked back at her with a matching smile, and they stared at each other stupidly for another moment before Draco shook his head.

“Stop looking at me like that or I’ll never get out of here!” He teased, backing up towards the door. Hermione chucked a pillow at his head and he caught it with a laugh. 

“Get out so I can see you later!” She hollered as he descended the stairs. 

“I like you!” He yelled from the doorway. Hermine laughed; it was way too fucking early in their young, budding romance to say anything other than ‘I Like You’.... but Merlin was she smitten with him. 

“I like you, too!” She yelled back, and she heard the front door click shut. 

Hermione flopped back on her bed with a squeal before she leapt up and headed to the bathroom to take her own shower. She had a date with her new favorite five-year-old and his unbelievably handsome father to get ready for. 

Despite having drunk most of a bottle of firewhiskey the day before, and then staying up all night pouring her heart out, Hermione had never felt better in her entire life. 

This Boss Bitch List thing might just be working after all. 

✔️Shopping Spree

✔️Talk with a stranger

✔️Take myself out 

✔️Haircut

✔️Go on a date 

✔️Get Sloshed 

✔️Snog Draco Malfoy

✔️Stay up all night with Draco Malfoy

✔️Share a bed with Draco Malfoy 

Chapter Text

A/N: I went into this week thinking that this chapter would be the easiest one I’ve yet to write because I’ve had a plan for Draco & Hermione’s Halloween since before I even wrote the first chapter. Funnily enough, it ended up being the hardest one yet.

My therapist told me today that I need to try to be more honest with myself about how I feel, and this is as good a place to do that as any: 

I’m terribly sad today that I’m not celebrating Halloween with the children I wish I had. I wasn’t expecting the grief to hit me yesterday as it did, but here it is nonetheless. 

Someday I will celebrate a Halloween like the one I’ve written here, but that time hasn’t come yet, and no amount of words can describe how hard that is.

I intended for this chapter to be straight fluff & smut, and while it does have a bit of both - it has a little angst too, which actually made it better, I think. 

I want to thank one of my reviewers here tonight because I’ve never had a review mean so much to me before. SlytherinHermione said, “I know writers write for themselves (as they should) but I feel so well taken care of and so loved as a fan - because you seem to be giving a piece of yourself to us with this story!” 

That could not be more true, and it’s incredibly special to have it seen and appreciated <3 thank you. I have been floored by the positive responses and am incredibly honored to have you all come along with me on this journey. 

As always, I hope you enjoy.

“I wanted to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me.” F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Sunday, October 20th - Wednesday, October 30th

The time between Hermione’s first date with Draco and Halloween felt as though it passed in a flash. 

The Sunday after their date, Hermione joined the boys to go shopping for Scorpius’ Halloween costume. Despite their best efforts, they could not dissuade him from choosing the Wizards costume once he had laid eyes upon it. Ripping the package open upon entering the car, Scorpius had remarked how unlike it was compared to real wizard robes, and isn’t it odd that muggles think we wear these ? Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as Draco lectured him on the importance of keeping their wizarding heritage a secret. I know, Dad, he groused, sounding more like a teenager than a five-year-old. 

They spent the evening carving pumpkins and decorating pumpkin shaped sugar cookies, and as Hermione helped Scorpius check three things off his list, she tried to remember the last time she had had such a good weekend. 

Maybe never. 

The following week was filled with drafting the outline for her novel - imagining the setting and brainstorming ideas for characters. She wandered the village a bit in the afternoons, finding a few new shops she hadn’t noticed before - including a little book shop that she instantly fell in love with.

Visit a bookstore was checked off her Boss Bitch List, which she had hung up on the fridge. The list had grown considerably, as she added all the activities that she had completed with Scorpius for his Autumn Bucketlist. 

There was an impromptu brunch date with Draco in the middle of the week and another stay-in date with Draco and Scorpius that Friday night. They had Mac-n-cheese with hot dogs for dinner, and Hermione taught them both how to make an apple pie. The kitchen had been nearly destroyed in her efforts and they were all covered head to toe in flour, but they had a blast working on it together.

The more time Draco and Hermione spent together, the harder it was for her to honor his initial request to ‘keep things friendly’ in front of Scorpius. His heated glances and innocent touches across her shoulders, hands and just about everywhere else on her body that was moderately acceptable were driving her barmy. 

Once the pie had been put in the oven and Scorpius had gone upstairs to change, Draco came up behind her, his arms trapping her between his body and the kitchen counter, immediately running his lips down her neck.

Hermione was just relaxing into his hold when tiny footsteps pounded down the stairs demanding Hermione help him check make something yummy off of his list, and the two adults pulled away from each other in exasperation. 

Later as they sat down to watch the movie Scorpius had picked, he jumped up into Hermione’s lap without thinking twice and snuggled into her arms. Draco passed them a blanket with a teasingly-jealous look. Hermione ignored him and wrapped it around the two of them, floored at the way he had chosen her.

Hermione felt completely at peace as Scorpius drifted off in her arms, with Draco’s arm resting on the couch behind her, his fingers wrapped in her curls. 

The following Monday, Hermione decided that it was finally time to reach out to Harry and Ginny.  They had sent a couple of short missives wondering how she was, but Hermione hadn’t had the heart to respond. 

Hermione kept it short, letting them know that she was having a lovely holiday and that she was seeing someone new - although she didn’t say whom. Knowing that they would surely relay as such to Ron, she hoped that it would postpone or even permanently delay the check-up he had threatened her with. 

The next day Hermione headed to the local animal shelter, intent on cuddling a few kittens and maybe even bringing one home. Unbeknownst to her, fate had a different plan. 

Immediately upon entering the shelter, Hermione was pounced on by a beautiful, overexcited golden retriever. Hermione laughed and greeted the reddish-gold pup, assuring the distressed counter-girl that it was no trouble. As she visited with the other animals the goldie followed her around, wagging his tail and looking for affection whenever her hands were free. All the cats were sweet, but even after circling by each animal twice, Hermione didn’t sense a connection with any of them. She sat down on the bench at the front to say goodbye to her new friend, thinking that he must belong to one of the employees, only to be told otherwise. Chico had been with them for weeks, and so far no one had come to claim him!

Hermione just couldn’t leave without him.

Hermione and her new companion spent the afternoon with Draco and Scorpius, who she was quickly coming to think of as her boys . It was love at first sight between Scorpius and Chico, and Draco seemed nearly as excited about him as his son. They spent most of the afternoon and evening playing with him in Draco’s expansive backyard, bonding. 

Later that night Chico followed Hermione into bed and curled up at her feet, already feeling quite at home in Hermione’s little cottage. She gave him a pat and told him goodnight before clicking the lights off. 

The longer she stayed in the Cotswolds, the more it felt as if the universe was bent on bringing her all the love she’d been looking for in the most unexpected places. 

Thursday, October 31st - Halloween

Halloween dawned cold and dreary. Hermione woke burdened with a bit of melancholy, but she put it aside in order to focus on the day’s activities. 

Bundling Chico and herself up tightly, they headed out for a run through the woods. Chico was the perfect running companion and was exactly what she needed to chase away the last vestiges of her panic attack from the week before. 

With Chico by her side, the woods had become friendly once more. 

Later that morning, Hermione headed over to Draco’s house so that she could join them for Scorpius’ Halloween parade. She arrived just in time for an epic showdown between the two of them - the first that she’d seen. Although Hermione had witnessed a few upsets here and there, this was the first full-on kicking and screaming tantrum she’d seen from Scorpius. Apparently, he had gotten it in his head that he should be allowed to borrow Draco’s spare wand as a prop for his Wizards costume, which of course was not going to happen. 

Hermione was impressed with how calm Draco remained throughout the incident. Scorpius eventually decided to quiet his temper upon the threat that they would simply have to skip the parade - although he did his fair share of stomping and grumbling on his way to the car. Once they were buckled in and the worst of it had passed, Hermione risked shooting Draco an amused smile. Nice job, she mouthed, and he grinned, shaking his head. 

An image flashed through her mind as they headed to the school. A little girl, almost one years old, dressed up as a snowy white owl, or as a mandrake. Tears threatened to well up but she pushed them down. 

Another time, she promised herself. I’ll address this another time, but not right now. 

The parade was an adorable sea of superheroes and unicorns, and of course, there was Scorp - proudly waltzing around in his Wizard’s robes from the costume shop.  Hermione found she was glad she had dressed nicely for the occasion in her favorite navy wrap dress and booties because it quickly became clear to her that she had personally slighted just about every single mom at the school by taking Draco off the market. She received the stink eye from almost every woman they passed, but Hermione was no stranger to being held in disregard by the public in general. 

Holding her head high and smiling sweetly at anyone who dared to look at her, Hermione walked alongside Draco in confidence. They could be jealous all they wanted, but she was the one he’d picked. Draco was blissfully ignorant of the attention they received - he had eyes for no one but Scorpius and herself. 

On their way home from the Halloween carnival, Scorpius requested they do more baking together. After a quick trip to the store, Hermione helped him make some homemade applesauce and her favorite autumn treat: pumpkin scones with a maple glaze. Spending time with him in the kitchen was quickly becoming one of her favorite things to do. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione caught a flash of the little girl with wild curls that had haunted her dreams, seated in a high chair and babbling excitedly. Hermione looked over, almost expecting to see her sitting there - alive in the flesh. 

But there was nothing to see. 

Shaking herself a bit and taking a deep breath, Hermione refocused herself on Scorpius. 

Before they knew it, the sun had begun to set and it was time to head out for Trick-or-Treating. Scorpius excitedly donned his costume and helped Hermione wrestle Chico into the lion’s mane that perfectly matched his reddish-gold coat. Draco and Hermione both slipped on their chosen wizards robes for the occasion; after all, it was Halloween! Why not go as themselves? 

Narcissa arrived through the floo and greeted Hermione as an old friend, although they hadn’t officially ‘met’ since she had begun dating Draco. Although she was dressed in a pair of lavish dress robes to match the group, she still crouched on the floor to greet Chico without any concern for her outfit. I see you two have already purchased a pet together, hmm? She remarked dryly, making Hermione blush and Draco stutter a bit. Narcissa simply laughed and demanded they take a photo together in their ‘costumes’, producing a cell phone from her pocket and taking an expert selfie of the four of them hunched around Chico, who was loving all the attention. 

Hermione was quickly coming to realize that she might as well just throw out any remaining assumptions she had about the Malfoy family because none of them seemed to fit the mold she had put them in. 

Before they left the house, Narcissa revealed a surprise for Scorpius - a toy wand she’d picked up for him Diagon Alley that day. Draco groaned and muttered something about how spoiled my son is going to get, but didn’t have the heart to say no when Scorpius asked him if it was ok. 

The four of them headed out into the night, the grown-ups each clutching a thermos of coffee, Scorpius swinging his plastic pumpkin to and fro, Chico trotting happily along in a plaid sweater and his lion’s mane. Hermione looked past the mothers they passed that held babies in their arms or pushed them in strollers, ignoring the pressure that was building in her chest. 

As the night wore on, it became clear to Hermione that Narcissa was nothing like the snooty woman she had glimpsed for the first time at the Quidditch World Cup all those years ago. She was clearly very involved in Scorpius’ life and had no trouble mingling with the muggles of the neighborhood. Hermione asked after Lucius, having gotten the impression from Draco that his father had undergone quite a change since his grandson was born. Narcissa gave a very unladylike snort and proceeded to tell her that the very large stick up Lucius’ arse has prevented him from joining us, but he will surely be waiting to hear a play by play when I get home.  Hermione laughed in surprise and Draco groaned, requesting her to please watch your language around my five-year-old. 

By the time they arrived back at the house, Scorpius was dragging his feet and was ready to crash. With the promise that he could have one piece of candy after he got into his jammies, he gave his Nanna a quick hug and headed upstairs. Narcissa turned to Draco and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before pulling back and taking his face in her hands, looking at him sternly. 

“Draco Malfoy, just so that you’re aware, I am going to be most displeased with you if you somehow manage to fuck this up.” Narcissa jerked her head to indicate Hermione, and Draco glanced at Hermione before turning back to look at his mother. 

“Trust me, mum - I have no intention of fucking this up.”

Narcissa chuckled and turned to Hermione, giving her a firm hug. 

“Thank you for taking care of my boys, Hermione. I expect to see you soon for tea!”

Hermione smiled and agreed, waving as Narcissa stepped into the floo. She looked at Draco who was leaning on the doorframe of the kitchen, watching her with a lopsided grin.

“You, my lady, have somehow managed to get the Great Narcissa Malfoy’s stamp of approval. I never doubted you would - but she can be an incredibly hard woman to please. She doesn’t always -” But Scorpius came barreling down the stairs, cutting him off, firmly requesting that Hermione read him his book for the night. She looked at Draco to make sure that would be alright with him, and he nodded encouragingly, begging off in order to clean up the kitchen. 

Scorpius challenged her to a race up the stairs and she followed after him gaily, Chico just at her heels. 

They weren't even halfway through their book when Scorpius drifted off, snoring lightly into the crook of her arm. She shifted him gently down to his pillow and fixed the blankets, startled when she looked up and found Draco watching her with adoration. He tipped his head towards the hall, beckoning her downstairs. Before she shut the door she called for Chico, but the pup simply shut his eyes and curled up more tightly at the end of Scorpius bed. She shrugged and headed down the hall, leaving the boys to get their beauty sleep. 

When she passed the door to the third bedroom that Draco used as an office, Hermione thought of the little girl with wild curls that she wished she could be tucking into a crib. 

Another time, she promised herself. I’ll address this another time, but not right now. 

***

Draco sprang out when Hermione reached the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind, covering her eyes. Hermione protested for a moment but he shushed her, murmuring that he had a surprise. He walked her forward awkwardly, his hands remaining tight over her eyes as they made their way out to his back porch. At last he let her go, and lo and behold - there was a hot tub! 

Find and Commandeer a hot tub

“Oh my God, Draco,” Hermione laughed and swung around to kiss him. “You snooped on my list!” Draco just scoffed. 

“I don’t think it can be qualified as snooping if it’s posted to your fridge,” he quirked a brow and took her face in his hands, kissing her sweetly on the lips. “Besides, what’s the point of being independently wealthy if not to spoil your girlfriend once in a while?” He leaned in to kiss her and Hermione smiled against his lips. 

“Am I your girlfriend then, Draco Malfoy?” She asked. 

“I’ll have you in any way you’ll let me, Hermione Granger,” he whispered to her. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you.” Their noses brushed as they looked into each other’s eyes, and Hermione nodded earnestly. 

“Yes. I don’t want anyone else either, Draco.” 

His lips crashed against hers, and he pushed her towards the hot tub. His hands fumbled to find the tie of her dress, but before he could untie it Hermione pulled away, gasping.

“What about Scorpius?” she asked in between his kisses. 

“There’s a monitoring charm on his room, I’ll know if he wakes up.” 

He untied her dress and pushed it off her shoulders, skimming his hands over her bare stomach and around to her arse, lifting her up to sit on the edge of the tub. He knelt to her feet, his fingers dipping underneath the band of her knickers to pull them off, but she playfully kicked at his shoulders. 

“Okay, okay!” He laughed and backed up, his hands raised in surrender. 

Hermione leaned forward and stole a kiss before she backed towards the steps, slowly unclasping her bra, sliding the straps down one at a time. Taking one step up, she met his eyes for a moment before letting the bra fall to the ground. She gave him a moment to look before turning around, sliding her panties down slowly as she ascended another step. She kicked them off her foot and bent forward to give him one tantalizing glimpse before stepping up and sinking into the luxuriously hot water. Resting her arms on the edge and kicking her feet back behind her, she smirked at the dazed expression on Draco’s face. She quirked a finger at him and he got his arse into gear, toeing off his shoes, tugging his shirt over his head and slipping off his pants. 

Hermione felt as though she must have done something really fucking amazing in another life to deserve the delicious snack that was currently approaching her. She didn’t get nearly enough time to study him before he slipped into the water and dragged her towards him. Their bodies met, his arms swooping to cup her arse and pulled her onto his lap. There was something about him - the full sleeves that covered his arms, the tats that ran across his shoulders and pecs, the V line of his abdomen, his sparkling grey eyes - that lit a fire inside of her. She swept his slightly shaggy hair out of his eyes, ran her hands down his neck and arms and back up his chest, memorizing him. 

Under a sky brilliantly lit with stars, with a chilly autumn breeze rustling her hair, they learned each other’s bodies and kissed until their lips were aching and swollen. After an ineffable amount of time, Draco reluctantly pulled away and spun her around to sit on his lap, adjusting her head to rest against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the day. Draco stroked his hands along her body and she sighed, enjoying it for a moment before she grabbed his hands to stop him. 

“Just...Just hold me please,” she whispered and Draco immediately stilled, wrapping his arms around her. 

“What’s wrong, love?” he murmured into her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. 

“Nothing about us, I’m really enjoying being here with you,” she assured him. He nodded but pressed her again. 

“So what’s on your mind?”

Hermione was silent for a long time, staring up at the stars. Finally, she worked up the courage to speak.

“Sometimes I see her,” she whispered. “Well, technically we didn’t know it was a she; it was too early to tell the sex when I lost the baby but...I just knew. She’s visited me in my dreams.” Hermione admitted, trailing off. Draco sucked in a breath and squeezed her to him. 

“I was thinking of her today, wondering what kind of costume I would have dressed her in. She would have been turning one next month.” A short sob rose up from her chest and tears began leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “This is such a mood kill.” 

“Hey,” Draco spun her around so she was once more straddling him. He cupped her cheeks and made her look him in the eye. “I don’t want you to ever apologize for talking about this, or anything else that’s on your mind.” He kissed her chastely and she nodded, pressing her forehead against his. 

“Okay,” she whispered. They sat quietly for a moment, and Hermione was overcome with the need to be close to him. “But what if I don’t want to talk anymore?” she asked shyly, running her hands along his arms and down his torso. “I’m so tired of talking. I'm tired of being sad. I just want to be close to you,” she begged, suddenly desperate to have him inside of her after becoming so transparent with him. 

“That’d be ok, too.” He rasped. 

“Then take me to bed, Draco,” she pleaded, and laughed when he abruptly stood up, pushing her towards the stairs of the hot tub. 

“Come on then, woman!” He urged, and they piled unceremoniously out into the cold. 

They slipped quietly up the stairs, Draco taking a quick peek into Scrp’s room to find him entangled comfortably with Chico. They rinsed off in the shower together, Draco taking Hermione almost to the brink again and again but never granting her release. 

Finally, they collapsed into his bed, sighing in relief as their mouths met, their bodies pressed intimately against each other. Hermione cried out as Draco sank inside of her, one hand gripping her jaw, their eyes locked on each other. Tears welled up in her lids as he ran his hands along her body reverently, her heart so full that it nearly hurt. 

Being with him was like being flayed alive only to be reborn anew. 

It was like coming home. 

Draco took her in every possible way until her body was aching and sated and ready for sleep, her mind deliciously blank. 

Hermione almost began to get up afterward, only to be told firmly to lay back down. 

“But Scorpius -” She protested, only to be cut off.

“Scorpius will be thrilled to see you in the morning. It's Friday tomorrow and he has school off. We'll sleep in and make breakfast together.” He murmured to her, nuzzling her neck. "Or maybe I'll have you for breakfast in the morning," he growled. Hermione laughed and batted at him, snuggling deeper into the covers. 

And that was that. 

She drifted to sleep in his arms, certain that despite all the sorrow she was still working to understand and accept, she was exactly where she was supposed to be. 

✔️Carve Pumpkins

✔️Decorate Pumpkin Cookies

✔️Bake an Apple Pie

✔️Make all the moms at Scorp’s school jealous A.F.

✔️Scorp’s Haloween parade & school carnival 

✔️Make Homemade Applesauce

✔️Bake Pumpkin Scones 

✔️Trick-or-Treating

✔️Blow Narcissa Malfoy out of the water

✔️Find a hot tub & commandeer it (OR get your rich boyfriend to buy you one)

✔️Get laid  (IE: Fuck Draco Malfoy)

Chapter Text

“You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest and most beautiful person I have ever met - and even that is an understatement.” F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Friday, November 1st

Hermione woke slowly, stretching her arms over her head before curling deeper into the warmth of Draco’s luxurious, king-size bed. The window across the room was cracked open, letting in a slight breeze that blew deliciously across the bare skin of her back. Morning sunlight poured through the half-open curtains, and Hermione vaguely wondered what time it was. The mattress dipped beside her and Hermione smiled, her eyes still closed sleepily as Draco trailed a hand over her lower back, down to her thighs and back over her arse, coming to stop at her hip. 

One of her eyes reluctantly cracked open just in time to see Draco grinning at her, the seductive look in his eye giving away his intentions. He leaned closer and brushed a kiss against her temple, her eyelid, the corner of her mouth. Hermione’s eyes slid shut again, basking in his attention as his lips worked down her neck, to her shoulder, to the middle of her back. She hummed contentedly as he slid on top of her, draping himself across her back, completely encapsulating her underneath his body. He ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and up along her arms until he had her hands pinned above her head, their fingers entwined. 

“Goodmorning, my love,” he whispered into her ear, pressing himself against her in a way that left her breathless.

“Are we really at the stage in our relationship where you should feel comfortable calling me my love?” Hermione tried to joke, but the quip fell a little flat when she choked on the words, desire blooming in her abdomen as he rocked his hips against her. 

“I distinctly remember you telling me last night that I could call you anything I’d like , as long as I didn’t stop.” Draco chuckled smugly at the way her breath caught. Hermione could tell he was smirking just by the tone of his voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to care whatsoever about his smugness. Her skin felt like it was ablaze, and she gripped his hands tightly, pushing against him, silently begging for more. 

“So my love , before we go downstairs for breakfast, I was thinking I’d have a little taste of you first; how does that sound?” he murmured before sucking gently on her pulse point. Hermione nodded and tried to turn over, but Draco forced her to stay on her stomach, his body pressed tightly against her back. 

“Nuh -uh-uh,” he admonished before whispering a spell under his breath to make her hands stick to the sheets. Hermione bucked her hips into his in protest, struggling slightly against the wandless sticking charm he’d cast. A rush of adrenaline raced through her and she was suddenly wide awake, nearly panting in anticipation. Draco sat up on his knees and ran his hands sweetly along her head and shoulders, shushing her gently, chiding her to just relax. Hermione huffed at him in annoyance. How the hell was she supposed to relax in this position, with Draco’s naked body rubbing against her? She felt the exact opposite of relaxed. A shock ran through her when he grazed his teeth along the cheek of her arse and bit down playfully. She fought to turn over, but Merlin, he was strong!

Draco kept her pinned to the bed as though it was nothing, and the thrill of being completely at his mercy was disabling in the best way. Her senses were elevated at the loss of her hands, and the press of his body weight against her was both delicious and overwhelming. Draco took a tall knee and smacked her lightly on the arse before leaning a hand behind himself to pin her ankles to the bed, putting a stop to the traction she’d gained with her feet. Draco clucked his tongue at her meager struggle against him. 

“Are we really at the stage in our relationship where you should feel comfortable picking a fight with me ?” he mocked dryly. 

“I’ve never had a problem picking a fight with you, Malfoy,” Hermione growled. Draco barked a laugh and just continued to hold her down.

“Like I could forget, Granger. I have to admit - you did have quite the right hook when we were kids -  but if you think you’re going to one-up me today you’re kidding yourself.” Hermione just harrumphed. She knew this was a losing battle as he seemed determined to tease her to death, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat.

“If you would just relax, my love -” he said in a sing-song voice, “you might get a reward,” he finished softly before leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss against her spine. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and let me….. have a taste?” His voice dripped over her with honeyed sweetness, his fingers dancing across her skin like butterfly wings. 

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to still the tremors of excitement that had her visibly shaking. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest and she blew all the air out of her lungs, willing her taut muscles to relax. 

Draco took notice of her efforts to be still and palmed her arse where he’d swatted her, murmuring praise - Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? - pulling her up until she was on her knees before him. Hermione moaned when his cock brushed against her pussy, still swollen and aching from the night before. She shifted back trying to press against him a second time, but he only allowed her the one teasing brush before he sat back to admire her.

His rough, calloused hands tickled as he ran them along her thighs and arse and everywhere except the place she wanted - until she was a dripping, writhing mess. Embarrassment at being beneath such scrutiny quickly gave way to a visceral longing to be touched. Hermione squirmed but Draco dug his fingers into her hip bones, holding her still. A whine fell from her throat when she felt him lean closer, his breath on her cunt. Her eyes squeezed shut and her toes curled and she thought she might just die from the anticipation when at last his tongue ran along her slit. All the breath rushed from her lungs and she sunk into the pleasure of it, completely boneless as he nuzzled and lapped at her wet folds. Murmurs of Fuck, you taste so good, Granger; and are you going to come for me? drifted up to her, but her brain had been rendered too useless to formulate a response beyond unintelligible sounds of ecstasy. Two fingers sunk inside of her and his mouth was on her clit and his other hand was everywhere - her neck, her back, her nipples - and Hermione pressed her face into the sheets, holding in a scream as she gushed for him. 

Ears ringing and feet tingling and bones melting, and Hermione slipped easily from her knees back down to her stomach at the push of his hand. Draco was everywhere, all around her - their feet and hands tangled up, and she turned her head to meet his lips in a sloppy, desperate kiss. They pulled away gasping for air and when he began to slowly press inside of her - tantalizingly slow - her mouth fell open and she couldn’t breathe for how intensely she needed him. Her hips pressed up against him of their own accord and she was choking - pleading for him to move faster - but her pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Draco bit down on her shoulder and moaned through his teeth as he just barely slipped inside of her, nudging against her wet heat. He withdrew again, pressing himself against her clit, and again and again he teased her until another orgasm built rapidly - unexpectedly. He pressed his cheek against hers, breathing heavily. his brow damp with perspiration as he slipped and slid against her dripping lips, and Fuck, Draco right there! 

One of his large hands pressed into both of hers, the other wrapped tightly around the back of her neck. He ground against her just so - his hard cock pressing against her overly sensitive bud - and Hermione felt as though he somehow knew her body more intimately than she knew it herself. In the span of just a few breaths, Hermione flew over the edge into oblivion, jerking against him, her mouth hinged wide in a silent scream. 

Just as she began to come, Draco slammed inside of her with a groan of pleasure - her name on his lips. His hands flew to her hips and he tilted them just an inch and it was too much - too intense - and her second orgasm had barely dissipated before she was on the verge of another. She needed something, something different - Draco, Merlin please, fuck - and he seemed to almost intuitively know what she needed, though she couldn’t have said what that something was. He hauled her up and into his arms until her back was flush against his chest, her head on his shoulder. 

The new angle was unthinkably tight, but with her chest opened up Hermione was able to take a deep breath, letting her heart rate slow. Draco ran his hands roughly along her body, plucking at her breasts; and if she had thought her skin was on fire before, it was nothing compared to now. Everything was intensely sensitive and she shook in his arms, struggling to remain relaxed when she felt impossibly taught, ready to snap. Draco murmured once more for her to just relax and she sagged against him, letting him hold her up completely. He rocked her up and down on his cock, the movement slow and diminutive, but staggering in its intensity. 

She could live here - in this moment with him, melded against him - safe. 

Home. 

Overwhelm rose up and a tear hung in her lid as she released a choked sob - gasping for more, Draco - and she brushed his hand from her clit so that she could see to it herself. He rocked her more quickly, one hand grasping and pinching her nipples, his other wrapped tightly around her throat, squeezing just enough that stars began to burst behind her eyelids. He urged her to come for me, my love, come for me - and she was arching against him, spasming around him as white-hot lightning flashed through her, Draco’s thumb almost too tight on her jaw as he came with her. 

Once the shockwaves had passed, Draco loosened his grip and she sagged down onto the bed, rolling onto her back and stretching like a cat. 

“Fuckkkk, Draco,” she moaned in satisfaction as he flopped beside her with a laugh, pulling her over to lay on his chest and running a hand through her wild curls. “I may never leave this bed,” she admitted, looking over at him with a contented smile. “Especially if that’s how you plan on waking me up every day.” 

“That can be arranged, I assure you,” he said, and for a moment they just lay there, grinning stupidly at each other in their post-orgasmic bliss when there was a tapping on the door. 

“Daaaad, it’s 9 o’clock! I’m hungry!”

Hermione looked over at him with wide eyes. 

“Shit!” she whispered, “I forgot about Scorpius! I wasn’t too loud, was I?” but Draco just laughed and pulled on a pair of pajama pants, tossing her a spare set of pj’s to slip on. 

“One-way silencing charm, love.” Hermione sagged in relief and had just finished pulling on the PJ’s and straightening the bed when Draco opened the door. Scorpius rushed past Draco without a glance, jumped onto the bed and dove at Hermione with a cry of excitement. 

“Ooof!” She laughed in surprise, catching him around the middle and swinging him down to the ground. He bounced over to Chico, who had been asleep in his bed under the window until Scorpius flopped on top of him, giving him a good morning hug. The chipper 5-year-old turned to beam up at Hermione, and her heart caught in her throat at the look of adoration he wore. She expected some questions - like why are you here? Or why are you wearing Dad’s pj’s; but instead all he asked was, “Can we have pancakes for breakfast?” 

“I don’t know, sweetie; do we have the stuff for pancakes, Draco?” 

Draco had leaned against the doorframe of the room with his arms crossed. He was still shirtless - his tattoos and scars on display for her - his pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. Despite all the sex they’d had over the last 24 hours, her insides squirmed in want at the look Draco gave her. He left her feeling a level of insatiability she’d never experienced before, and Hermione was already wondering when they could crawl back into bed together. Scorpius pulled on her arm and danced around her, and Draco watched them together for a moment before answering.

“I’m pretty sure we have everything, but we’ll have to check. Why don’t you go put some cartoons on, Scorp? We’ll be down in a sec.”

“Cartoooooons!” He yelled as he soared away and down the stairs, Chico catapulting down the stairs behind him, leaving the adults laughing in their wake. Hermione sidled up to Draco, and he was quick to slip his hands into the back pockets of the pj’s he’d lent her, cupping her arse and pulling her flush against him.

“So, what are you up to today? Want to stay to have pancakes with us? Or, I don’t know, maybe just stay forever?” he asked jokingly, with just a hint of sincerity.

Hermione leaned away in order to look up at Draco’s face, and her heart swelled at the earnestness she saw there. Logically, she knew she should have some concerns about what this step in their relationship meant; being together, sleeping over….it should feel complicated and messy - especially since they had yet to define their relationship in any sort of capacity. She should be feeling the need for space and reflection after spending almost 24 hours with Draco and taking such a big step forward.

But despite what logic told her she should feel, Hermione didn’t actually feel that way at all. 

She felt as though she never wanted to leave his side, and she had a hunch that Draco felt the same. 

Never before had she been so sure of a relationship, or so on the same page with someone.

Hermione was done allowing should’s to dictate her life. 

“Well…” she swept her hands up his abdomen and to his chest, lingering over his tattoo of the constellation Scorpius, which began on his right pectoral and swept up along his shoulder. “I should probably pop home at some point to freshen up, but there’s nothing I’d rather do than stay, for as long as you’ll have me.” 

Hermione met his eyes sweetly, and Draco took her face in her hands, cupping her cheeks and brought her lips to meet his in a fierce kiss. She could feel the intensity of his elation at her response bleeding through his lips and hands, igniting a new spark of passion between them. Draco turned her around and pushed her against the doorframe, hitching one of her legs up and over his hip so that he could press his hardening cock against her center. Her heart pounded erratically beneath her chest and they lost themselves in each other, only coming up for air and pulling away when they heard the crash of something falling in the kitchen. 

Draco groaned and nipped at her lips once more before grabbing her hand and pulling her down the stairs behind him. 

“Be careful what you say, Granger. I may never let you leave,” he warned, and Hermione’s chest swelled with happiness at the sultry wink that he sent over his shoulder. 

On the same page, indeed .

***

Draco did, in fact, have all the ingredients in the house for pancakes. 

Hermione made a pot of coffee while Draco and Scorpius worked on the pancakes together. She quickly decided that a man who could handle himself in the kitchen was one of the sexier things she’d encountered thus far in her life. 

Bare feet and mussed hair and nothing on but pajama pants - this is a view I could get used to, for sure. 

After breakfast, Hermione popped home for a shower and a change of clothes - and a bag of a few other things - just in case she was in fact, invited to stay over again. Draco eyed the small duffel on her shoulder appreciatively when she got back an hour later, and he gave her a kiss when Scorpius wasn’t looking.

The three of them went on a long afternoon walk through the woods, enjoying the chill in the air and the brightly colored leaves that were falling and swirling around them in the wind. Scorpius was given control of Chico’s leash and the two had a blast scampering around while Draco and Hermione followed behind them. About an hour into their trek they came to a beautiful pond connected to an icy stream that ran swiftly through the trees. Draco pulled out a blanket and some snacks, and they relaxed on the quiet bank of the water feeling wholly and fully content.

By the time they returned, Scorpius was so tired from the last two day’s activities that he was tripping over his own feet. Hermione helped him check off Nature Walk from his Autumn Bucket List and Draco insisted he take a nap. Though he fought Draco for a few minutes - I’m too big for a nap! - he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Hermione stifled a small yawn of her own and Draco guided her down the hall towards his bedroom. 

The second the door was locked they came together with a crash, all teeth and tongues and tearing at each other’s outer layers haphazardly, the heat from the morning returning now that they were alone. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about starting my own list,” he said as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. “But you’re going to need to help me.”

“I see where you’re going with this Draco Malfoy,” Hermione laughed as she began unbuttoning her shirt, but Draco just ripped it over her head, fumbling with her bra until she batted his hands away to do it herself. “And when do we get to start on this list of yours?”

“Right Fucking Now,” he growled, bending her over the end of the bed. She shimmied her leggings down to her knees and Draco unbuttoned his jeans frantically before palming her uncovered sex with a groan. He sunk two fingers inside of her and knocked her feet a little wider with some difficulty, as they were still laced up in her hiking boots. 

It was the fast and hard fucking Hermione had been craving earlier, and she came twice with hardly any provocation, still overly sensitive. Draco fisted a handful of her hair, pulling her head back almost painfully. He dug his nails into her hip bone, holding nothing back as he slammed in and out of her, hitting her g-spot over and over until she could hardly take it anymore. He finished with her as she came for a third time, biting down on her knuckles; and they wasted no time before detangling themselves and catching their breath. Hermione flopped onto her back with a laugh, her feet still on the ground - her leggings all caught up on her boots. Draco took pity on her and unlaced them, heaving them off her before slipping off his own and collapsing beside her. She shrugged Draco’s pajama bottoms back on and they cuddled under the covers together, falling into an easy and satiated sleep. 

When Hermione woke, it was to a small body pouncing on her. 

“Oof!” she cried and rolled onto her back, Scorpius crawling into her arms for a hug. 

“Dad told me to come and wake you up for dinner!”

Hermione rubbed her eyes, noticing that it had begun to get dark outside while she slept. 

“It’s dinner time, huh?” She asked blearily, her mouth feeling as though it was filled with cotton. 

She began to sit up, but Scorpius tugged on her arm and burrowed into her chest. Hermione’s heart melted and she wrapped her arms around him, saddened by how starved for female affection he seemed to be. She pulled the blanket up over them both and held him close, drifting back into a doze. 

A short time later, she blinked her eyes open as Draco crawled into the bed on the other side of Scorpius. 

“I thought you were going to wake Mione up, Scorp!” He teased his son in a stage whisper. Hermione cracked her eyes and grinned while Scorpius rolled over into his Dad’s waiting arms. 

“We’re snuggling, Dad,” he said exasperatedly. 

“I can see that,” Draco met Hermione’s eyes and they laughed to each other silently. 

“Dad, can Hermione tuck me in tonight? She’s a good snuggler.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” Draco agreed, shooting Hermione another mischievous look. Scorpius rolled back over into Hermione’s arms and looked up at her. 

“You can stay over again if you want to, Mione. I don’t mind. Sleepovers are fun! I have sleepovers at Nana’s and Grandfather’s house all the time” Scorpius said in that very matter-of-fact voice of his. “Dad told me that if I didn’t want you to come over, then you wouldn’t. But I like it when you’re here.” 

Hermione’s heart nearly stopped as she looked down into the innocent eyes that shone up at her. She had suspected that Draco must have had some kind of conversation with Scorpius about her; but she hadn’t wanted to pry, so she hadn’t asked.

“Oh? And when did your Dad tell you that?” She asked, glancing over the top of his head to Draco, who looked a little surprised at the turn the conversation had taken.

“Before you came over to watch Charlie Brown. He said that he was going to just cancel hanging out with you, but I told him you should just come over here!”

“Ahh, I see; so that was your idea, huh? And has your father consulted you on every occasion that I’ve come over?” She asked lightly and glanced at Draco, who had the decency to look a bit sheepish. 

“Of course! We talk every night at bedtime, and he always asks me first to make sure it’s ok for you to come over,” Scorpius said proudly. 

Hermione’s heart clenched, and she felt as though she may die from cuteness overload. It had been clear from the start that Draco was a good father; but the more time she spent with the boys, the more evident it became. There were many things she found attractive about Draco and many ways they just clicked - but his love and attentiveness to his son was the quality that really did it for her. 

“Well if I tuck you in tonight, won’t you miss talking with your dad?” Hermione felt a tear gathering in the corner of her eye, a swell of emotion building after the way Scorpius so obviously wanted her to be included in his life. 

“Nah; I can talk to him any night. I want you to tuck me in tonight.” 

“Well as long as it’s ok with your Dad, then I’d love to.” Hermione ran a hand over his head affectionately and when she glanced at Draco, she was surprised to see that he looked a little choked up, as well. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, but he had the sweetest smile on his face. 

“It’s perfectly fine with me, buddy.” He assured his son before ruffling his hair and hauling him onto his back for a piggy-back ride down the stairs. Hermione followed behind, still in Draco’s slightly too big pj’s, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. 

***

That night they ate spaghetti and drank red wine and laughed at Scorpius’ precociousness. When Draco reached for her hand across the table in full view of Scorpius - an invitation to step even further into the little world he shared with his son - she took it unquestioningly and held it tight. 

The three of them sat in front of the fire after dinner and played go-fish, the only card game that Scorpius knew how to play. They ate popcorn and listened to a kids station on the wireless, dancing to all of Scorp’s favorite songs, and when 8-o-clock rolled around, Draco announced that it was time for Scorpius to hit the hay. 

Hermione only allowed him to sucker her into one extra book before she put her foot down and turned the light off with a snap of her fingers. She stood to tuck him in, but he asked in the tiniest voice - won’t you snuggle with me, Mione? So she curled around him on his little twin bed, Chico twisted up between their feet and wondered how she could ever be worthy of this sweet little man who had stolen her heart. 

Draco came in a while later and gently woke her from the doze she’d fallen into. They went back downstairs and settled on the couch, Draco to read and Hermione to write, both still a bit tired despite the nap they’d taken. 

By ten, Hermione was yawning and couldn’t bear to stare at her computer screen any longer. She helped Draco tidy the kitchen and they headed upstairs, brushing their teeth side by side in the bathroom and grinning at each other in the mirror as if they had done so a million times before. 

After the lights had been turned out and Draco had pulled him into his chest, Hermione finally allowed herself to think of her little girl with wild curls, who was never far from her thoughts. 

She may never have been born, but that didn’t make her any less a part of Hermione, and Hermione missed her desperately.

She missed everything that might have been. 

Tears ran silently down her cheeks and she sniffled. Draco drew her face up to meet his, looking at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He wiped her cheeks and held her tight, rocking her in his arms until the tears quieted, and Hermione felt thankful and safe. 

It still hurt the same - and maybe it always would. But it was a little easier to bear when she was in Draco’s arms. 

***

As the sun rose on Sunday morning, Hermione woke to Draco slowly sliding her underwear down her thighs and lapping at her cunt, warming her from the inside out. Still half asleep, she let him turn her to the side and she moaned as he slid into her from behind, pulling one of her legs up and over his hip, cradling her head on his bicep. His fingers found her clit and he played with her slowly and sensually until she came - still half-dreaming - her mind focused only the feel of his body wrapped around hers. Draco squeezed her to himself almost too tightly as he came just after her, and Hermione breathed slow and deep, feeling nothing but relaxed and contented.  

Immediately falling back into a doze, she vaguely registered Draco getting dressed and letting her know he was going to go for a run with Chico since you clearly want to stay with Scorpius and have a lie-in ?  She acquiesced, telling him to leave the bedroom doors open so I can hear Scorp , and where in Merlin’s name did my pants go ?

Scorpius joined her in the bed to snuggle a while after Draco left, and by the time she woke fully an hour or so later, the sun had risen high in the sky. She sat up and stretched, feeling more rested than she could ever remember, breathing in the aroma of bacon and coffee that was wafting up to her from downstairs. 

The rest of the day passed as if it were a dream, so ensconced was she in Draco and Scorpius’ familial bubble. They had breakfast in their jammies, second and third cups of coffee on the back porch while Scorpius played with Chico, and spent the afternoon wandering around the local Farmer’s Market - yet another item to check off her list. By the end of the day, Hermione didn’t want to leave but felt it was best for her to head home and let the boys get ready for the coming week. 

Scorpius was happily playing in the living room with a film running in the background, so Draco joined her upstairs while she packed the few things she’d brought over into her duffel. 

“Do you think we should ...uh, talk?” Hermione inquired timidly. She felt the weight of how complicated things may be the closer she got to Scorpius and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. She plopped onto the edge of the bed and Draco shut the door with a soft click before turning towards her, scrubbing a hand over his face in apprehension. 

“You mean about yesterday, with Scorpius?”

“Ya, or...I don’t know. About us? Maybe?” Hermione shrugged her shoulders, also feeling apprehensive about where this conversation may lead. Would he suggest they slow things down between them? Draco sat on the bed beside her and placed a hand on thigh, rubbing it absentmindedly. 

“To be honest, I’m afraid if we have this conversation I’m going to scare you away,” Draco grimaced and chuckled awkwardly, looking down at the floor. 

“I don’t think much could scare me away at this point, Draco,” she admitted quietly. 

“Even if I said that after spending one weekend with you, I never want you to leave?” Draco asked in a hoarse whisper, looking up to meet her gaze. Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise and she swallowed thickly, completely caught off guard. A long silence stretched between them as Hermione tried to collect her thoughts, and Draco waited impatiently, his eyes watching her every move. 

“Well, to start - I’d say you’re a bit crazy because it’s only been like 8 weeks since we ran into each other. But I’m also…..” Hermione cleared her throat, stalling, trying to gather the courage to lay her heart out for him, just as he had for her. “It doesn't ...it doesn’t scare me. I feel the same, Draco, completely! But ...you're not worried we’re moving a little fast? With Scorpius and everything?”

Draco barely let her finish her sentence before he’d grabbed the back of her neck and drew her to him, kissing her eagerly, smiling widely against her lips. He pulled back after a moment and ran his hands down to her neck, stroking his thumbs along her jaw, their noses almost brushing. 

“No. I’m not worried about Scorpius, and I’m not worried about the timing. In theory, it seems fast - yes - but if we both feel the same, and neither of us wants to slow down, then why should we? This feels so right to me, Hermione. Having you here with us this weekend has felt like a dream,” he professed adamantly; earnestly. “Do you feel the same? Does it feel too fast for you?” 

Hermione shook her head and bit her lip, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face. 

“No... No, I wouldn’t change anything about the time we’ve been spending together. I just don’t want to cross any lines with Scorpius. I don’t want to do or say something wrong, or make him confused, or -” Draco held up a hand to stop her. 

“ That right there is why I’m not worried about it, Hermione. I can see how you care for Scorpius, and how important it is to you that you treat us both with respect. If something comes up, then we’ll talk about it, but there’s no need to worry about that preemptively. I’m very close with my son, and I’m fine with him knowing that you’re someone special to me.” Draco tucked a curl behind her ear and watched as she wrung her hands together, trying to figure out what was bouncing around in her brain. 

“But….but what if….” Hermione huffed a breath and jumped up, pacing back and forth. “What if this doesn’t work out between us? Won’t that be too hard on Scorpius, after having me around?” The words all rushed from her in one breath, and she breathed in jaggedly. Draco stood and steered her over to the window seat, forced her to sit down beside him. He kept his hands around hers and rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles soothingly. 

“We agreed; no games, right?” He said softly.

“Right.” She agreed. 

“So tell me this: does this seem like just an infatuation or a fling to you? Does this seem like something you’ll grow bored of in a few months? Do we seem incompatible in the long run? Or does this feel like a rebound relationship for you?”

Hermione breathed deeply and closed her eyes, pushing the breath out slowly from her open lips. She felt close to tears when she opened her eyes to see Draco watching her kindly, as though he already knew what she was going to say. 

“No. It doesn’t feel like any of those things to me,” she whispered. Draco wiped away the one tear that grazed down her cheek. 

“Nor to me, my love. So let’s take one day at a time, and just do what’s right for us . And like Scorpius gave away yesterday, the twerp, I will continue to check in with him each time you come over, and we can let him lead how often we see you; does that sound good?” 

Hermione nodded and easily curled into his chest when he pulled her to him, breathing in the scent that was uniquely Draco, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve this wonderful man’s heart. 

The couple headed back down the stairs and Hermione said her goodbye’s - a bear hug from Scorpius, and a chaste kiss on the lips from Draco - and popped back to the front stoop of her cottage just as the sun began to set behind the purple heather-covered hills. 

She sighed deeply when she entered the cottage, already missing her boys.

***

Monday, November 4th

Hermione: Hey, just got an owl from my editor, she wants to meet me in Diagon Alley this afternoon. I think I’m going to stay in London for a few days and catch up with some friends while I’m there.

Draco: Are you sure? Can’t tempt you to be back by tomorrow, can I? *wink*

Hermione : LOL, I think it will be good for me to be back at my apartment for a bit, but I’ll let you know if I change my mind. 

Draco : OK, dinner at my place on Thursday?

Hermione : Perfect!

***

Hermione strolled through Diagon Alley with a spring in her step, Chico trotting happily at her side. It had been a long time since she’d set foot in the Alley, and it felt nice to visit. She felt confident and at ease in one of her favorite fall outfits - sleek black denims, a soft cashmere sweater, her classic trench, and her go-to ankle booties. She spent an hour or so window shopping and chatting with friends that she saw along the way, killing time until she was due to meet Ginny for drinks at The Leaky. 

It was impossible not to think about the last time she’d visited the Alley and the stark contrast of how miserable she had been at the time compared to now. 

Pregnant and at a loss of what to do about her marriage. Gaunt and sick with stress. Trapped in a sea of dead ends. What was supposed to be a simple errand to the Alley for some potion ingredients had turned into a near panic attack, and she had spent the entire time ducking in and out of doorways with the hood of her cloak pulled low over her face. She could remember the feeling as though it were yesterday - fragile, small, and vulnerable - as though her insides were on display for everyone to see.  

Now, Hermione stood tall with a smile on her face, feeling beautiful and at peace with herself. For so long, she thought that if she allowed herself to grieve her losses, they would consume her, or that grieving might mean forgetting. But now that she had spent some time digging into those dark recesses of her spirit, she could see that grieving did not mean losing herself, or losing her memories. 

It just meant that she could begin to accept everything that had come to pass and start to let it go.

She enjoyed taking the time to wander the street, and when someone approached her with a camera asking if they could take a photo with her, Hermione surprised herself by happily acquiescing - her smile genuine and wide.  

The lunch meeting with her editor had gone swimmingly, and they were already talking about a possible book tour for the following Spring or Summer, depending on how quickly she could finish her novel. Hermione had been unsure what her editor would think of this new series she was beginning - as the tone of the novel was a bit different than how she normally wrote. The heroine was less confident - fearful even - and there was a much greater focus on the romance of the tale than in her other books. To her surprise, her editor had loved it. 

Despite the meeting’s success, Hermione was still a bit unsure about how she felt about the change of direction. 

Upon entering the Leaky, Hermione was besieged with the nostalgic aroma of beef stew and butterbeer, the pub filled with the sounds of clinking glass and the chatter of the early bird crowd. She chose a booth towards the back, where she could watch the rest of the establishment while waiting for Ginny to arrive. It wasn’t long before the redhead appeared in a whirlwind of energy, sweeping Hermione into a bear hug and placing her order, shooting her with rapid-fire questions and small talk. 

In the months precluding her trip to the Cotswolds, Hermione had found Ginny’s presence to be nearly unbearable. But now after some time away, she realized how much she had missed her longtime friend turned sister-in-law. 

They talked for hours, right through the dinner rush and into the late evening, sharing all of their favorite dishes and finishing the evening with several rounds of Irish Coffee. Ginny asked all the right questions, and Hermione enjoyed gushing about her new man - although his identity remained a secret. They talked about Hermione’s Boss Bitch List and about Chico - who was happily hanging out under the table catching scraps - and Ginny caught her up on all the family gossip she had missed the last several months.

The didn’t speak of the miscarriage - hadn’t ever spoken about it, actually - but while they said their goodbye’s, Ginny’s arms lingered around her in a tight embrace, and she made her feelings known - her voice choked up and raw. 

I’m so glad you’re doing well, Hermione; and take care of yourself; and you’ll always be my sister; and then she was gone, spinning away through the floo. 

Slightly tipsy but feeling lighthearted overall, Hermione made her way out into muggle London. Her heart felt full, and she was ready to face what she had been avoiding all day: that dreaded flat she’d shared with Ron. 

***

Hermione unlocked her apartment and had to push on the door with a hard shove, the warped wood causing it to stick to the doorframe. It creaked open loudly and Chico rushed past her and into the cold uninviting space ahead of her, stirring up a bunch of dust from the carpets. Hermione followed Chico inside and struggled to get the door pushed back into the frame and locked again. She clicked the lights on and walked through the space in a daze, the stench of the past lingering in the air. Hermione pressed a hand against her heart, trying to ease the deep ache that had descended upon her the moment she’d crossed the threshold. 

All at once, her idea to stay a few days seemed ludicrous. 

In fact, keeping the apartment at all had been ludicrous! 

As though a lightning bolt had struck her, Hermione realized how silly it was to hold onto this apartment just because she didn’t want to forget the baby she’d lost. Staying stuck in the past was no longer an option. 

Stripping off her nice clothes and slinging on some leggings and an old-t, Hermione got to work. 

It was time to get rid of this place once and for all. 

***

Wednesday, November 6th

By Wednesday morning, Hermione had packed up any belongings she intended to keep - although there wasn’t much beyond her clothing, her books, and a few keepsakes. Everything had been sent over to her vault at Gringotts for safekeeping until after the holidays when she presumed she would be looking for a new place. The rest of the flat’s contents went either to charity or to the dump - nothing she had ever shared with Ron would be kept. 

Hermione met with a realtor, penned a quick note to Ginny, and sent a text to Draco to let them both know about her decision before heading over to The Leaky to use the floo. 

Draco was quick to text back - congratulatory about her decision to sell the flat, and more than enthusiastic that she was coming back to him a day earlier than planned. 

Draco: I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off - get your arse over here and we can celebrate properly   *wink*

Hermione: I’m on my way! *kiss*

***

Saturday, November 9th

The rest of the week passed in a happy haze of stolen moments with Draco, morning runs with Chico, and hours spent on her laptop digging into the middle portion of her novel. Saturday evening Hermione popped over to Draco’s just in time for dinner with a bottle of wine in hand, only to be surprised by the presence of Lucius Malfoy who was reading a book with Scorpius on the couch.

Hermione stopped in her tracks and just stood there a bit stunned as Scorpius jumped up to greet her, wrapping himself around her legs. She immediately felt underdressed in her old ripped denims and a slouchy sweater. Lucius, who obviously was never caught looking anything less than regal, was in full wizard's regalia. Despite being unsure of what to expect when it came to interacting with Draco’s father, she was pleasantly surprised when Lucius stood up to shake her hand.

“Scorpius, is that any way to formally greet someone?” he asked dryly, but Scorpius simply shrugged and ran through the kitchen and into the backyard, where Chico was busy playing. 

“That child and his manners,” Lucius shook his head affectionately. “Welcome, Ms. Granger. Ah, thank you for this,” he said as he took the wine she offered. “I’d say make yourself at home, but from what I hear you’ve already made yourself quite comfortable,” he finished dryly, one eyebrow raised in amusement. Hermione gulped and nearly began to choke on her own spit - Why am I constantly choking in front of these Malfoy men at the least opportune moments?! And just how much has Draco told his parents about our relationship?! She followed Lucius into the kitchen, searching for a way to respond to what was surely an innuendo - how embarrassing!! Luckily she was saved by Narcissa, who had been preparing things in the dining room. 

“Hermione, my dear! How lovely of you to join us this evening!” She took notice of Hermione’s red cheeks and scowled at her husband. “You haven’t been trying to scare her off, have you, Lucius?” She gave Hermione a dainty hug and bumped her cheek in an air kiss before floating a set of covered serving platters from the kitchen counter to the table. It seemed as though Narcissa had brought dinner over from the manor; not to mention that she had set the table as though they were to be receiving the queen. Hermione wondered idly if this was a regular occurrence in an attempt to bring some culture to Scorpius’ life, or if it was all for Hermione’s benefit. Either way, Hermione found it rather sweet.

“I highly doubt Ms. Granger would be scared off by the likes of me, but I promise I have made no such effort to do so, Cissa,” Lucius said, winking at Hermione as though they were old friends. Hermione found herself at a loss of what to say. Standing around in a muggle kitchen casually chatting with The Malfoys was completely surreal, made even more so since she hadn’t expected them. After floundering for a few moments, she finally found her tongue. 

“Thank you for having me, Narcissa; I’m sorry that I’m a bit underdressed -” but Narcissa waved her apology off.

“Oh don’t worry about that, dear; I know our arrival must be a surprise. We only just popped by with dinner a few moments ago, Draco wasn’t expecting us.” Hermione nodded and was about to begin wringing her hands awkwardly when Draco emerged from the garage.

Although Hermione had yet to see what Draco got up to in there, she knew it had to be something laborious if the wood shavings, dirt, and sweat that covered him was any indication. His plaid flannel was wrinkled and grimy, the knees of his jeans were stretched out and filthy, and there was a thick layer of dirt on the bottom of his work boots. 

Whatever it was that he’d been doing, Hermione immediately decided that it should be illegal for any man to look that fucking delicious after doing manual labor . For someone who had grown up as an aristocrat dressed only in the finest clothes that money could buy, Draco Malfoy pulled off blue-collar very well. 

Draco’s face lit up when he saw her, and Hermione’s anxiety was soothed by his presence - although that was short-lived. He strode over and planted a sound kiss upon her lips - right in front of his parents - and Hermione squawked and flailed her hands at him, giving him a light shove backward. 

“Hey, love,” Draco chuckled at her surprise and turned to scrub his hands clean in the sink, hollering for Scorpius to come inside to eat. She tried to shake off her embarrassment the best she could, although it was tough going. Scorpius came charging in moments later with Chico hot on his heels, causing a ruckus as the overgrown jumped from person to person, looking for attention. Hermione was surprised to see that both Malfoy’s appeared to be dog people and didn’t mind in the slightest, so she took a moment to pick Scorpius up and help him wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

As they sat down to eat, Hermione wondered how in Merlin’s name she was going to make it through the dinner unscathed. 

It turns out she needn’t have worried because by the end of the meal Hermione felt completely at ease with the elder Malfoy’s. They clearly doted on Scorpius and were much less stiff and old fashioned than she had expected. When Scorpius asked if her and Draco were going to have a sleepover again that night, Hermione thought she may just die from mortification; but Draco brushed it aside like it was nothing, and she only had to endure a few poorly concealed innuendos from Lucius before Narcissa stomped on one of his feet underneath the table, reminding him sweetly to mind his manners . 

A second bottle of wine had been opened by the time the meal was winding down, and the conversation turned to the family’s plans for the upcoming week. 

“Mother, I’m going to have to spend a few days in Paris next week for work. Does it work if Scorpius stays at the manner from Tuesday to Thursday?” 

“Oh yes, that’ll be splendid -” 

“But Dad, can’t I just stay at home with Mione and Chico?” Scorpius cut his Grandmother off mid-sentence and looked up at his Dad as though this was the most obvious solution in the world. 

All the adults sucked in a collective breath and froze, and for the umpteenth time that night, Hermione wished she could just sink into the ground and disappear - while simultaneously melting at the way Scorpius had asked to stay with her. 

The elder Malfoys stayed silent while Draco looked down at Scorpius and back to Hermione several times, his mouth gaping open. Hermione had never seen him look so lost for words. 

“Uh, I mean - hmm. Well, I guess if it’s okay with Hermione -” 

But Hermione held up a hand to stop him, feeling the weight of Narcissa’s frown upon her. 

“Scorp, Chico and I would love to stay here with you; but don’t you usually stay with your Nanna? I’m sure she would like to have you over at the Manor.” She smiled encouragingly, trying to smooth things over, but Scorpius was not having it. 

“But I want to stay here with you,” He pouted, sticking out his lower lip and crossing his arms. 

Draco sighed and intervened. 

“Scorp, we’ll talk about it later, okay? No - don’t give me that lip, young man. We’ll talk about it later. Now I want you to go and give your grandparents a hug and thank them for dinner.” 

Scorpius obeyed begrudgingly, and Hermione stood awkwardly to the side as Draco also said his goodbye’s. Lucius came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but Narcissa very obviously said nothing to her, ignoring her while they put on their cloaks and stepped through the floo. Hermione began clearing the remaining dishes from the table while Draco instructed Scorpius to go pick up the toys he’d left out in the living room over the course of the day. 

Draco helped with the last of the cleanup before coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry about my mother, love.” He sighed deeply. Hermione frowned and just kept washing dishes slowly, a flurry of emotions coursing through her. 

“I didn’t mean to cause any-” She began, but Draco just scoffed.

“You have nothing to apologize for. My mother is very protective, and I think it caught her off guard to see how close you and Scorpius have obviously become. I’ll talk with her and smooth things over; it’ll be fine. But she shouldn’t have snubbed you like that.” Draco shook his head in annoyance. “Were you serious about staying with Scorpius?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course, I would love to stay with him for a couple of days while you’re gone.” 

She could think of nothing better if she was being honest with herself. 

Draco placed a soft kiss below her ear and ran his hands along her ribcage and back down to her hips. 

“He’ll be really happy to hear that, my love,” he whispered in her ear. She was just turning to meet his lips when he scooped some soap from the sink and swiped the tip of her nose playfully. 

“Hey!” She cried, her mouth hanging open in shock before scooping her own handfull and flinging it at him. 

“Oh - now you’re really going to get it!” 

When Scorpius burst into the kitchen a few minutes later wondering what was going on, they were both covered in suds, breathless from laughter. Hermione was on the kitchen floor clutching her side and Draco was bent over the counter, tears streaming down his face. Scorpius ran to Hermione and flopped down, swiping some of the suds from her hair and flinging them at his Dad. 

“Hah! Gotcha Dad!” 

“Oh, you are so gonna get it, Scorp!” 

Scorpius ran screaming up the stairs and Draco chased after him, leaving Hermione to flop back and catch her breath, overwhelmed with the happiness she found coursing through her. 

Just as she began to suspect it had grown too quiet, both boys came racing back down the stairs, having joined forces against her and utilized Draco’s wand to arm themselves with a volley of bubbles. 

“AHHHHHH!” They cried as they raced towards her, and Hermione scrambled up and out the back door, Chico barking wildly at the commotion.

Narcissa’s frostiness was long forgotten, at least for the time being. 

Hermione was right where she belonged, and she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon - not if she could help it. 

***

Much later that night, after the carnage from their bubble war had been vanished and Scorpius had been put to bed, Draco built a fire in the hearth and ordered Hermione to wait for him in the living room. Feeling a little mischievous and still thinking about how sexy Draco had been when he had emerged from the garage, Hermione turned off all the downstairs lights and threw some of the couch pillows onto the rug in front of the fire. She settled on the floor and waited for Draco, who emerged from the stairs a moment later with something behind his back. He dropped to his knees and slid whatever it was under the coffee table, hiding it from view. 

“What do we have here?” he purred, crawling across her body and trapping her beneath him, running a hand beneath her sweater and up her abdomen, dropping kisses on the hollow of her throat. 

“Not sure, maybe another item to check off your list ?” she murmured coyly; “What do you have there ?”

“I got you something,” he admitted against her lips.

“Oh ya? I thought that might be a present.” 

“Close your eyes and I’ll show you,” he instructed, and she obediently put a hand over her eyes until Draco had thrust something into her lap. He scooched away to give her some space, and Hermione held it in her hands for a moment before opening it. 

It felt like a book and it was bound in rich brown leather, but it seemed overly large and didn’t have normal book pages…. When she opened it and began to turn the blank, plastic sleeves, it became quite clear what he had given her. 

“Draco…” she said, staring down at it, lost for words. 

“It’s a portfolio. For your sketches,” he said nervously, apparently unsure of how it would be received. Hermione thought of all those sketches she had strung up on the walls weeks ago - all the swirling memories and fears that she had painstakingly purged from her psyche. 

How freeing it had been to show them to Draco, and see them through his eyes. 

“You don’t have to show them to anyone, of course - I just thought you should have a nice place to preserve them -”

Hermione laid the portfolio aside and lunged towards him, kissing him fiercely and shoving him to the ground.  Draco broke away, barking out a laugh. 

“So you like it, then?” he asked as she peppered him with kisses. 

“Yes, you idiot,” Hermione murmured, slipping his shirt off his shoulders and pushing him back to the ground, straddling his hips as she ran her fingertips along his arms and chest, tracing the artwork on his body that she had come to adore

The raised scarring of the Dark Mark that he had purposefully left uncovered - a reminder of all that he’d overcome.

The white Narcissus that wove up his arm in honor of his mother, and the snake that trailed between the petals that signified his transmutation over the last 10 years. We shed the skin of our former selves just as the snake does , he’d told her. She glanced down at his other arm and trailed her fingertips over a snitch, the treeline of the forbidden forest, a compass, a depiction of his wand that wrapped around his bicep like an ouroboros, and the words temet nosce written in bold, beautiful script . 

And those were just her favorites. There were so many depths to this man that she had yet to explore.

Hermione pulled her sweater over her head and undid the clasp of her bra before sinking close, her lips and tongue making their way to his, memorizing the taste and feel of his body beneath her. She slid down to unbuckle his belt and he watched her movements with heavily lidded eyes as she undid the snap and tugged them down just enough to free his cock, taking it in her mouth with a moan of pleasure. She laved her tongue against him for as long as he would allow and surrendered when he flipped her onto her back, paying her the same attention. 

The rest of the world fell away as they helped each other out of their remaining clothing, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth. The driving November wind roared outside the protection of the cozy cottage but was drowned out by the sound of lips against lips and their uninhibited gasps of pleasure. Hermione had her way with Draco - she took him every which way that she wanted him - and reveled in the way he matched her, the way he fit her just right in every possible way. Rain pounded upon the earth, thunder roared and lightning lit up the sky, but it went unnoticed by the two of them.

They were far too busy falling desperately and hopelessly in love with each other to give one whit about the weather. 

✔️Nature Walk through the forest 

✔️Morning coffee on Draco’s porch 

✔️Begin Draco’s List 

✔️Dish to Ginny about Draco 

✔️Put my apartment on the market 

✔️Withstand my first snub from Narcissa Malfoy

✔️Soap Sud War

Chapter Text

Tuesday, November 12th 

“So I’ve added you to our google calendar for all of his activities, and there’s his bedtime routine on the fridge - Oh and I added you to the school pickup list, so there shouldn’t be a problem there ...plenty of food in the fridge so whatever you want to cook is fine - you’re going to take my car and the car seat is in it so-”

“Draco!” Hemione snapped in front of his face, disrupting the run-through of his mental checklist that he’d began. “We’ve gone over everything, and if I need anything we’ll call you or pop over to the manor. We’ll be fine. I assure you that I am more than capable,” she smoothed her hands down the crisp white dress shirt he wore and give him a reassuring smile. Draco sighed and nodded.

“I know... it’s not you’re capabilities that have me anxious - at all . He’s just never stayed with anyone but his Nana for more than overnight, you know? But I know you guys will be fine.” Draco took a breath and leaned down to give her a kiss.

“Scorp! I’m going!” He hollered up the stairs to his son, who was getting dressed for school. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Draco whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, brushing a smattering of kisses down her neck. 

“We’ll miss you too, babe,” she murmured, relaxing into his embrace. “But we’ll see you in two days, okay?” She reassured him once more. 

“Right,” he agreed. He had just leaned in for a kiss on the lips when Scorpius began wiggling between them, having snuck up behind Hermione. They both laughed and Hermione backed away, giving Draco some room to pick Scorpius up. 

“You’ll be good for Mione, won’t you bud?” he asked his son, who nodded enthusiastically. “Because I’ll hear about it if you’re not.” His voice stern.

“Daaaaaad,” Scorpius groaned, rolling his eyes. Draco chuckled and he put Scorp down, giving them each one more kiss on the forehead before grabbing a handful of floo powder. 

“See you on Thursday!” 

“Bye!” they cried as he spun away into the green flames. 

“Okay!” Hermione said, clapping her hands together. “Time to go to school!” she said, grabbing her purse. 

“Mione, I still need breakfast! And I don’t know where my backpack is, and I wanted to wear my green boots but all I can find are my blue tennis shoes and…” Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts and followed him into the kitchen, wondering if this was going to be a tad more difficult than she’d thought. 

***

By some sort of miracle, Hermione had gotten Scorpius to school with a little time to spare. She found a parking spot and walked him to his classroom, as was the protocol for Kindergarteners. Scorpius gave her a brief hug around the legs, hung his backpack up beneath his cubby and then joined his friends on the classroom carpet, where they were playing with model trains. Hermione was just waiting in line to sign Scorpius in when the teacher approached her, a friendly smile on her face. 

“Hello! I’m Ms. Elizabeth, I don’t believe we’ve met?” Hermione shook the teacher’s outstretched hand and smiled.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hermione, I’ll just be picking up Scorpius today and tomorrow. Mr. Malfoy had me added to the emergency contact paperwork, I believe.”

“Oh yes, I remember him asking to add someone the other day. Are you his new nanny, then? Mr. Malfoy is ever so busy, isn’t he,” she said, as though she believed she had personal insight into Draco’s schedule. Hermione continued to smile, although she felt the conversation was taking a strange turn. 

“No, I’m not the nanny.” She said with finality. 

“Huh ...so you’re a relation of The Malfoy’s then?” Elizabeth inquired, her smile now looking forced as she fished for information.

“No, I’m not a relation,” Hermione provided, nearing the end of her patience with the woman. 

“Oh? A friend of the family then perhaps?” she pressed, a little frown crossing her pouty lips. Hermione narrowed her eyes but paused for a moment, as it was her turn to sign Scorpius in. After she was finished, she turned back to Ms. Elizabeth, pretending not to notice the handful of other women that were now listening intently to their conversation.

“Mr. Malfoy and I are together if that’s what you’re wondering, Ms. Elizabeth.” Hermione had barely finished her sentence when the teacher laughed incredulously, her eyes comically wide, and exchanged disbelieving looks with the other woman standing beside her. 

“And you’re sure he added you to the emergency contact paperwork? I find that hard to believe.” 

“And why might that be?” Hermione prompted, interested to hear whatever kind of threat the woman was undoubtedly about to make. 

“Oh sweetie, sweetie, sweetie...” Ms. Elizabeth tutted condescendingly in a sickeningly sweet tone, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “Mr. Malfoy - or Draco , I should say, tends to….tire easily. Of women I mean. The Malfoys are very well-to-do, you know. Extremely wealthy, old money I believe. Dear Draco could have his pick of any woman he may want, and since he’s already divorced, he’s got no reason to settle down. Take it from someone who knows,” she said sympathetically. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.” Ms. Elizabeth’s eyes went up and down Hermione’s body to allude that Hermione wasn’t the kind of woman Draco would deign to be with, anyway. 

Hermione laughed as though she’d just heard a hilarious joke, and the ladies all looked at each other with eyebrows raised. 

“Oh, you are simply a delight , Ms. Elizabeth. Thanks for the tip, sweetie , but it’s wholly unnecessary. I would focus my mind on my class and not stick my nose in other people’s business if I were you. I’ll see you ladies at the end of the school day. Ta-ta!” Hermione flashed a fake little smile at the peanut gallery and wiggled her fingers in the teacher’s scowling face before heading out the door. 

The second the classroom door swung shut behind her, Hermione’s smile dropped into an annoyed scowl. Typical . Of course, she had to go and fall in love with someone gorgeous and rich and have to deal with all the women he’d left in his wake. Indulging herself, she stomped her feet a bit as she headed to the parking lot and rolled her eyes at Draco’s idiocy. How stupid did you have to be to sleep with your child’s teacher at the beginning of the term , when you had to see them the whole rest of the year? Scorpius had just started Kindergarten in August, so he couldn’t have slept with her that long ago. 

Hermione had been happy in her ignorance of Draco’s past exploits, happy in their little new relationship bubble. 

That was well and truly over. 

Hermione cranked the car engine to life, hunting for a good radio station to blast. The whole thing had been strangely reminiscent of having to put up with the petty jealousies of girls like Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson at Hogwarts. There was no escaping it, it seemed. 

Finally, Hermione found the station she’d been looking for - the kind of gangster rap that was nearly unintelligible and sounded tough. She slid on her sunglasses, lit a cigarette and rolled the windows down, turning the volume up to a nearly intolerable level. 

“See ya, ladies!” She hollered to the group of moms that had just exited Scorpius classroom, their eyes narrowed and overly dramatic frowns marring their faces. Hermione cruised to the exit and peeled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires, feeling great about her life choices. A joy ride in Draco’s luxury SUV was definitely in order after that bit of unpleasantness...After all, what was the point of dating someone with all that old money if she didn’t take advantage of it?

Draco was so going to hear about this later. 

***

That afternoon at pickup, Ms. Elizabeth made a showing of checking Hermione’s Driver’s License against Scorpius’ Emergency contact card, the peanut gallery from that morning present once again. Hermione wondered if Draco had slept with all these women or if they were simply standing in solidarity with Ms. Elizabeth. It seemed that no matter how wonderful a man was, he was just as susceptible to a nice rack as the next bloke. 

Thankfully, Scorpius seemed none the wiser to the drama going on and they headed out for his after school activities without a hitch. The afternoon and evening flew by, and by the time Hermione finished tucking Scorpius in for bed, she was absolutely knackered. She crawled into Draco’s bed and was just drifting off to sleep when Draco called to video chat. 

“Hey,” she answered groggily.

“Hey! I can’t see you!” He complained, and Hermione snapped the lights on, rolling onto her back and blinking her eyes open.

“Scorp must have worn you out if you’re already in bed,” He chuckled, and she nodded. 

“That boy is definitely your son, there’s no doubt about it.” Draco groaned. 

“Oh no, what’d he do?” he bemoaned, and Hermione laughed.

“Well, he certainly has a penchant for whining to try to get his way and hates being told ‘no’. But overall we were fine.” Hermione gave him a brief summary of the day before finally bringing up Ms. Elizabeth. 

“So, you slept with Scorpius’ teacher, huh?” she asked casually. Draco’s eyes widened comically. 

“Shit,” he swore, scrubbing a hand over his face. “She told you about that?” Draco asked, but began to backtrack immediately.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t trying to hide it! I just wasn’t expecting you to find out….” Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fuck. I mean....Oh fucking hell...” Draco covered his face with his hands and groaned. He almost began speaking again but Hermione held up a hand to stop him. 

“Just quit now before you dig yourself an even bigger hole. I wasn’t actually mad before - but now I feel like maybe I should be. It wasn’t after you and I met, was it?” 

“No, of course not!” 

“Okay then. But Merlin Draco, you are such an idiot. Why would you sleep with Scorpius’ teacher?! How did that even happen!?”

“I knowwww ,” he whined, not at all unlike his 5-year-old son had earlier when she wouldn’t allow him to have dessert before dinner. “It’s been a complete and total disaster. In my defense, I didn’t know she was Scorpius’ teacher when we slept together. We met at a bar about a week before school started.” 

“Okay….well I guess that makes sense. But what about the other mothers?”

“Other mothers?” Draco asked hesitantly, a sheepish look on his face. 

“Oh, now I definitely know you slept with one of them!”

“Well, technically I slept with two of them….” 

“Draco!” She cried.

“Okay, yes it was two of them ...but at the same time. Does that make it any better? It was just once!”

“Holy mother of Merlin Draco!” She cried, trying to sound angry but failing to mask the bubble of laughter that rose up out of her chest. “Could you be any more cliche?? Divorced millionare bangs his son’s Kindergarten teacher…pause for effect ...and TWO MILFS in threesome.” Hermione gestured her hands as if reading the headline of a newspaper. “That sounds like a fucking porno description!”

Draco snorted and Hermione chuckled, and all of a sudden they were both laughing uproariously. 

Eventually, their laughter petered out and they both wiped at their eyes, trying to catch their breath. 

“So ...you're a bit of a man-whore,” Hermione concluded, one eyebrow raised. 

“I think that in this instance, it sounds worse than it actually is. But...does this change anything for you?” Draco asked in a small voice, and Hermione softened. 

“I had no illusions about you being perfect Draco. So no, it doesn’t change anything. I would like a little heads up next time though. Not that I can’t handle myself on a moment’s notice.” Hermione flipped her hair and pursed her lips, and Draco laughed. 

“That sounds like a story you need to tell me.” 

“Oh trust me - you want to hear this…..”

***

They chatted until it was late, and Hermione had just drifted off to sleep when she woke to the sound of tiny footsteps creaking on the cottage’s old hardwood floors. Scorpius climbed into the bed and Hermione’s heart clenched as he snuggled down into her open arms. Suddenly wide awake, she felt a little shiver of fear run through her. 

Fear that Draco would be unfaithful to her as Ron had been - no matter how much she didn’t want to believe it. 

Fear that her skeptics were right, and that she wouldn’t be enough to fit into the Malfoy’s world of old money and pureblood power. 

Fear that she would lose Scorpius, whom she was coming to love and accept into her heart as her own, just as she’d lost her little girl.

Fear that everything would fall apart - like everything else in her life had fallen apart.

The fear kept her awake until the early hours of the morning but she stayed in bed, clutching Scorpius close to her chest. His even breathing eventually lulled her to sleep, although it was fitful.

When Chico woke her several hours later to be let out, she still had yet to shake the niggling dread that had taken hold of her heart.

Chapter Text

“I love her and that’s the beginning and end of everything.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

Thursday 11/14

After only one day of caring for Scorpius by herself, Hermione had gained a new respect for Draco and how he operated as a single parent. It was tough work in of itself, but her ill-timed bout of insomnia the night before certainly didn’t help. She fought to shake off the rather desolate mood that had gripped her through the night and focused instead on enjoying her time with Scorpius the best she could. Although their morning ran smoothly and they arrived at school with time to spare, Hermione waited until the last second to walk Scorpius to his classroom in order to avoid any further drama from Ms. Elizabeth. She was feeling completely over having to deal with the whole situation - though she did plan on getting some more details out of Draco when the time was right.

Hermione spent the majority of the day at ‘her’ pub trying to write, but she had reached a crossroads in her novel and couldn’t decide how to move forward. It was as if she was banging her head against a wall, circling around and around the same scenarios while never reaching a conclusion. Before she knew it was time to pick up Scorpius from school, and she packed up her things having made zero progress. She shook her head in frustration and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear them after staring at her computer screen for too long.

Pick-up went smoothly and as soon as he finished his after school snack, Scorpius decided that they should go on a late afternoon walk with Chico. Hermione was more than happy to oblige; and Hermione found a bit of peace as they meandered through the woods, Scorpius’ happy laugh buoying her restless spirit. It was a relief to get outside and see the world through the precocious five-year-old’s eyes, everything exciting and fresh, the world at their fingertips. 

Dinner and bathtime followed - during which the entire bathroom seemed to be flooded - and they finished the day curled up in Scorpius’ bed to do some reading. Hermione didn’t have the heart to say no when he asked can’t we read just one more?? and then again for one more please?, and then for a glass of water pleeeeease? Finally, on their fifth story, his eyes began to droop and he curled further into her, his head resting on her stomach. She finished the last page with a soft murmur, brushing his hair away from his eyes and sliding him down to his pillow softly before extricating herself from underneath him. 

“Nighty night, Scorp,” she said, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead before heading towards the door. 

“G’night, Mione. Love you,” he said, turning over and nuzzling further beneath his blankets. Hermione’s heart stopped and she stood frozen, completely unprepared for such a sentiment. It took her several shuddering breaths before she could move, and she stepped back to the side of the bed, brushing a hand down his back. 

“Love you, too,” she whispered; but he was already sound asleep. 

When Draco arrived home hours later it was to find Hermione standing in front of the sink, washing dishes that looked as though they had been scrubbed 5 times over. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned her head to meet his lips in a light kiss, her hands covered in suds. 

“How’d everything go, love?” he wondered.

“It was great, we had a really nice time,” she smiled wearily, one tear threatening to fall from her bottom lid. Draco paused, immediately noticing that she seemed off, but she had already turned away. 

“Alright; I’m going to take a shower and then head to bed - I’m completely knackered. Want to join me?” he offered, picking up his small suitcase and placing one foot on the bottom stair. 

“Not for a shower no, but I’ll be up in a minute.”

“K,” he conceded and disappeared up the stairs. 

Hermione slumped forward with a sigh, overwhelmed with lingering disappointment. She had envisioned meeting Draco with a glass of wine and some sexy lingerie, but after such a frustrating day of work, combined with the shock of Scorpius’ pronouncement - there was simply no way that was happening. A spiral of sadness was whirling inside of her, threatening to fly out of control. 

She was too deep inside her head. 

The dishes finished rinsing themselves and flew to the drying rack next to the sink as Hermione ascended the stairs mechanically. She slipped on her pajamas and extinguished all the lights save for the dim lamp on Draco’s bedside table before sliding under the covers and curling in upon herself. A shiver ran through her and she kicked her legs, trying to warm the chilly sheets. An unstoppable pressure was building inside of her and she felt stuck, powerless to quell the soul-deep ache. A sliver of moonlight drifted across the hardwood floor, blurring as her eyes welled up with tears. She pressed a hand against her chest in a futile effort to lessen the pain and gasped as her throat closed around her shortened breaths. 

Hermione hated this. Hated feeling like such a wreck, so fragile and vulnerable, like she may break at any moment. 

It felt like she would never be free of this pain. Would she ever have her own child to love?

Chico hopped up onto the bed and snuffled around until he found her face, licking her cheek and nuzzling her as though he knew she needed the comfort. A watery chuckle escaped her lips and Chico pushed his way under the covers, curling against her front. She smoothed her hands along his back and hugged him tightly, a little bit of the pressure inside of her slipping away. 

Draco came out of the bathroom a few moments later and she listened to his quiet movements as she practiced her breathing - in for 6, out for 8. In for 6, out for 8. In for 6, out for 8 . His lamp went out and the room fell into darkness save for the moonlight that poured through the crack in the curtains. Draco sidled up behind her and ran a hand along her side. 

“Are you okay, my love?” he whispered, his breath hot on the back of her neck. Hermione sighed and pressed back into him, a little more of the tightness falling away at his touch. 

“I am now,” she murmured, and relished in the feel of his hand on her hip, his hard chest pressed against her back, one of his legs slipping between hers.

In for 6, out for 8. 

In for 6, out for 8. 

In for 6, out for 8.

Hermione breathed until her body began to relax, and at last, she fell asleep cradled in Draco’s arms. 

***

Friday 11/15  

The next morning Hermione woke to the unpleasant sensation of Chico licking her toes. 

She groaned and nudged him away, but he simply began jumping around on the bed, urging her to get up. 

“Okay, okay, I’m awake!” She sat up blearily and the golden pup hopped into her lap, licking her face voraciously. The sky outside looked fairly bleak - even for a November morning - but even so, her spirit felt lighter after sleeping through the night. Hermione had just trekked down the stairs and started the coffee pot when Draco came home from dropping Scorpius off at school. 

“Hey! You don’t have to go into the office today?!” 

“Nope, I gave my team the day off after working so hard the last three days. And also because I wanted to spend the day with you” Draco said sweetly, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the stairs. Hermione laughed but pulled away, moving back to grab a mug and pouring herself a cup. 

“As happy as I am to hear that, I need some coffee. And then I was going to go for a run before it starts raining.” Draco groaned and slumped his shoulders, immediately beginning to pout. 

“But it’s freezing outside! And I’m home! And off work! You don’t need to go on a run today,  why not go tomorrow?” he whined, reminding Hermione endearingly of the spoilt prat he’d been at Hogwarts. Hermione just laughed and headed up the stairs to get dressed. 

“Yes, I do need to run today. Why don’t you come too? We haven’t gotten to run together yet!” She hollered down to him and laughed when she heard him stomping around playfully in the kitchen. He appeared a moment later with a cup of coffee and began talking around a mouthful of banana.

“If you weren't so crazy, we could be having a lie-in instead of going out into the freezing cold.” He grumped, but he ate his banana and began to get his running gear on anyways. Hermione laughed at his teasing and felt her heart grow even lighter at the prospect of Draco joining her.

“What, are you scared , Malfoy?” She taunted, standing up from tying the laces of her trainers and placing her hands on her hips. Draco turned to face her and raised an eyebrow challengingly. 

“What could I possibly be afraid of, Granger?” 

“That I’m going outrun you, of course,” she said flippantly, shrugging on a jacket. Draco just barked a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Oh you poor, precious little Gryffindor, always underestimating the competition. How do you suppose you’re going to outrun me when all you’ve got are those puny things? ” He gestured to Hermione’s legs and Hermione gasped in pretend outrage. 

“My legs are not puny , you prat! I’m simply ...vertically challenged! And just because I’m shorter than you, doesn’t mean - Hey!” she shouted as Draco took off down the stairs. “That’s cheating! 20 points from Slytherin for unfair - oh bullocks,” Hermione gave up when she heard the front door slam behind him and hightailed it out of the house, sprinting to catch up to him.

“Oh, there you are. Took you long enough.” Draco smirked down at her and she swatted at him, catching her breath and easing into the comfortable pace he set. “What were you saying about outrunning me?” he asked innocently.

“I’m already regretting asking you to come,” Hermione griped, but she couldn’t hide the wide smile that bloomed across her face. 

***

Running with Draco turned out to be exhilarating. 

Although he set a reasonable pace, his stride was indeed a bit longer and Hermione found herself pushing harder than normal in order to rise to the challenge. Endorphins began to flow and she relished in the happiness that radiated through her. They joked a bit and Hermione gave Draco a general update on how her two days with Scorpius had gone; but mostly they ran in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. The sound of their combined footfalls calmed the last vestiges of her anxiety from the previous day, and by the time they stopped for a water break Hermione felt at ease. 

They had reached the small lake that they had stopped at for a picnic on their walk with Scorpius several weeks prior and they stood at the edge, admiring the view while passing a water bottle back and forth. Hermione’s mind was quiet as she stared out over the still waters, and she was filled with an overwhelming gratitude. While she may never be completely healed from the trauma of the war, and she would certainly never be over the pain of miscarrying - she was learning to see that over time, things could get better. 

Her life would not remain in a state of bleak winter forever. 

***

Just as they were in view of the cottage, the sky opened up and they were caught in a deluge, wind whipping Hermione’s hair around her face, leaves flying around them in a flurry. Hermione shrieked and laughed as Draco grabbed her hand and they sprinted together into the house, their hearts beating wildly in time with each other. They rushed into the house and Hermione swung the door shut behind her, her laughter dying as Draco pinned her to the door and kissed her. Draco’s calloused hands cupped her face, his thumbs pressing almost painfully into her jaw, his tongue sweeping through her mouth hotly, and she matched him with equal fervor. They broke apart after a long moment, their wet foreheads pressed tightly together, grinning as they caught their breath. Just as Draco leaned back in, Hermione pushed him away with a laugh and dashed up the stairs. Draco followed after her gaily, happy to see her so playful after her bout of melancholy the night before. 

“Beat ya,” Hermione smirked when Draco found her in the master bathroom, the shower warming up as she slipped her trainers off and shrugged out of her jacket. 

“So you did,” he stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame to watch her as she stripped, trying to peel herself sexily out of her leggings but nearly falling over in the process. Draco barked a laugh as she attempted to get her sweaty sports bra over her head, only to get stuck in it. Hermione growled in frustration and continued to struggle until Draco took pity on her and pulled it off. 

“Well that was sexy,” she moaned tragically, but Draco merely met her lips in a hungry kiss, nudging her towards the shower. He ran his fingers along the seam of her knickers delighting in the gasp that he drew from her lips. 

“You’re always sexy, you crazy witch,” he cajoled lightly. “Now get your sexy arse,” he yanked her knickers down and spun her around, pushing her forwards, “into the shower before I make you,” and he slapped her bare arse cheek for good measure. Hermione yelped but did as she was told, stepping out of the knickers and under the hot spray, sighing in relief as her fingers and toes began to warm up. She parted the shower curtain and crooked a finger at him, appreciating the way his muscles rippled as he pulled the long sleeve over his head. He pushed down his joggers and Hermione’s heart sped up as she watched his cock spring free, already hard and ready for her. Draco met her eye and heat pooled in her stomach as he stepped into the shower and stalked forward, looming over her - a predator after his prey. 

Hermione backed up and gasped as her back met the cold tiles, his lips on hers in an instant. His hard body pressed tightly against hers and Hermione’s mind went blank, her body on fire beneath his capable hands.  

***

Several hours later the two sat snuggled on the couch, bowls of hot soup in their hands, a fire in the hearth. The gale continued outside, and Hermione was quite glad for the opportunity to relax with Draco alone for the afternoon before it was time to pick up Scorpius from school. 

“So, are you ready to tell me what was on your mind last night?” Draco asked in between spoonfuls of soup. Hermione stilled and a lump grew in her throat. She pushed it down, deflecting the attention away from herself. 

“Are you ready to give me more details about Ms. Elizabeth and her posse of angry moms?” 

Draco choked a bit trying to swallow, and Hermione grinned triumphantly at having caught him off guard.

“You are such a ball-buster, Granger,” Draco bit out with a groan. Hermione giggled but was not going to be deterred.

“Well? I deserve a little bit more of an explanation after the hounding I got from those twats.” Draco laughed and nodded in reticence, setting his bowl down and turning to face her on the couch. 

“Did they say something that’s made you concerned about me?” He asked, a knowing look in his eye. Hermione bit her lip, wondering if she was truly that transparent.

“Am I that easy to read? Or is there a reason I should be concerned?” She narrowed her eyes a bit at him but Draco just met hers squarely, having no reason to feel guilty.  

“I think that they were probably unhappy that I never called Elizabeth for a second date, although I was perfectly clear when we met that I wasn’t looking for a relationship.” Hermione set her bowl down as well, pausing for a moment as she thought back to her conversation with Elizabeth. 

“Yes….that is the impression I got. Elizabeth saw fit to warn me that you tire of women easily, and intimated that I was much too common to be dating a Malfoy.” Draco rolled his eyes, swiping a hand over his face in annoyance. 

“I’m sorry, babe; that’s absolute bollocks. We slept together before either of us knew who the other was, and she was perfectly fine with our….liason….being a one-time thing. It wasn’t until Scorp’s first day that I realised she was his teacher, and of course she caught wind of my surname and it just went downhill from there. It turns out I’ve done some work with her Father in the past, so she had an inkling about our wealth. I think she’s been hoping I’d give her a call since she’s Scorp’s teacher, but she’s not the sort I’d ever be interested in for anything long term. Honestly, it’s been a complete nightmare.” 

Draco shook his head in exasperation over the whole thing. Hermione’s heart ached for him as she realized that he had never been able to escape the consequences of his family’s wealth even after he had transitioned to living in the muggle world. 

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that, Draco. It must have been hard.” Draco met her eyes and smiled ruefully. 

“It is, but I’ve gotten used to it. I’m sorry that you’re going to have to deal with it now too. The way people act when they find out how wealthy I am…” Draco shook his head. “It’s always been that way, and it’s one of the reasons I was such a shit to everyone at school.” Hermione laughed. 

“I’m sure that most children in your position would have been the same,”

“You’re probably right, although that doesn’t excuse the behaviour. It is one of the big reasons why I never thought I’d be in a relationship again after breaking up with Astoria, though. It’s rare to come across someone who doesn’t care about that; and I could never be with someone who was only interested in me for my money. I honestly wasn’t even looking for a relationship, and I’ve always made that clear to the women I’ve seen since my divorce,” he admitted to her. 

“So, what changed then?” Hermione asked, silently begging for him to quell her fears that he would tire of her easily, or that she was too common. Draco scooched closer and took her face in his hands, his eyes twinkling, an intimate smile quirking his lips.

“You came along, Hermione - that’s what changed. Things have never felt right with anyone else. Even with Astoria, I never felt like we really got each other. Not like you and I do.” Draco tucked a curl behind her ear and Hermione’s heart clenched almost painfully. “I may not have been looking for a relationship, but I can’t tell you how glad I am that we ran into each other that day.” Her eyes grew watery with emotion, and she nodded in agreement.

“Me too, Draco,” she said, a bit overwhelmed by his earnestness. This thing between them may still be new, but she knew in her heart that it was real. She leaned in and Draco met her halfway in a burning kiss, his hot lips crushing hers as he cradled her head in his hands. Hermione nudged him backward and straddled his hips, her need to be close to him like a thirst that couldn’t be quenched. Draco pulled back slightly, mumbling something against her mouth. She tore away in exasperation.

“What?” she demanded, only to capture his lips again, laughing against his lips as he tried to speak. Finally, he got tired of battling her and pushed her down onto the couch, grabbing her arms and pinning them above her head.

“You’re trying to distract me again, woman!” Hermione struggled against him, trying to pull him down with her feet. “I shared mine, now you share yours!” he demanded. Hermione sighed and looked away. 

“It was a bunch of things, really,” she huffed, annoyed that he had remembered his initial line of questioning after she’d deflected the attention away from herself.

“Just give me the list of what was wrong and then I will fix everything for you,” he teased, getting her to chuckle weakly. 

“Well - first of all - I’m completely stuck on my novel and can’t figure out which direction to go in, and that confrontation with those women was completely awful - but oh Merlin I did love getting to drive your car while you were gone - my car is totally rediculous  in comparison, you know - but anyway; part of it was probably that I didn’t sleep at all Wednesday night so I was knackered by the time you got back from your trip and….” Hermione gasped after blurting everything out in one breath before finishing softly, “Scorpius told me he loved me Wednesday night. Which is fine - I know children just say that kind of thing - but it threw me for a loop and I was just thinking again about my….my….” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against the couch, a sob escaping her lips unbidden. Draco released her arms and pulled her back up into his lap and she covered her face with her hands, once again embarrassed to be so raw and vulnerable in front of him. 

“Hey, enough of that,” he scolded, pulling her hands away from her face and forcing her to look at him. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to read your novel - no, don’t shake your head at me - and help you figure out what direction to go in. And I truly am sorry that you had to deal with those crazy twats, but really - they mean nothing to me. You’re the one I care about, so it doesn’t matter what they think or say, okay? And you can drive my car anytime you like - in fact - we can talk about getting you a new car if you’d like, because what’s the point of dating a bloke as rich as I am if you’re not going to get a car out of the deal?” Hermione began laughing and wiped her tears, shaking her head at him. “And yes, children do say things like that to random people  - but this is not like one of those cases. You’re not a random person. Not to either of us, okay?” Hermione nodded with a watery smile. 

“Okay- but it’s going to be a hard no to reading my novel -”

“Hermioneeeee,” he protested.

“And absolutely no to buying me a car -”

“Oh, come on!” 

“But I appreciate the sentiment anyway,” she finished, mumbling into his shirt. 

“Alright, but I reserve the right to keep bugging you about it. And I’m sorry that what Scorpius said was triggering for you, my love. You’re allowed to cry about that as much as you would like to, and for as long as you want, okay?” he murmured the last bit softly, understanding how hard it was for her to talk about the miscarriage and all that she’d lost.

“Okay,” she whispered. Draco lowered her back down to the couch and met her lips in a sweet kiss as Hermione rolled her hips to meet his, more desperate to have him than she had been before. 

“Now, if you’re amenable, I’m going to fuck you. What do you think?” he whispered again, peppering kisses down her neck and gripping her hips just a little too tight. 

“Merlin, yes - I thought you’d never stop talking-” Draco smashed his lips against hers with a laugh, effectively silencing her. 

Their half-eaten bowls of soup grew cold as they made love on the couch, Hermione’s worries laid to rest - at least for the time being. 

***

Saturday, November 16 - Saturday, November 23

The weekend passed in a happy, hazy blur for Hermione and her two boys. On Saturday they checked off Scorp’s last item on his Autumn bucket list - Jump in a pile of leaves. Hermione and Draco used a little magic to create a large pile for Scorpius and they all took turns jumping in it, laughing as Chico zoomed around them, barking in excitement. On Sunday, Draco surprised both Hermione and Scorpius with an autumn bike ride through the country - the last official item on her Boss Bitch list.

Hermione wore her hair in a top knot, with a long sleeve tee, and a fleece-lined bomber jacket paired with her favorite jeans. The trees were almost bare and the sky was overcast, but it felt so good to be flying down the road with her two favorite people that she didn’t mind the dreariness of the afternoon. Her hands were numb on the handlebars and her cheeks were frozen - but she cruised behind Scorpius with a wide smile on her face, Draco bringing up the rear. 

She stood up on the pedals and picked up speed, whipping around Scorpius - who protested loudly that she had pulled ahead of him. She slowed and turned to look back, encouraging him to catch up, and shot a wink at Draco. Scorpius caught up to her and they rode side by side, reaching out to touch fingers, laughing to their heart's content. 

That night when Hermione popped home to get some fresh clothes, she found two more missives from Ron on the porch that she promptly burned - this time without reading them. 

She wasn’t going to waste any more of her time on him than she already had. 

Before heading back to Draco’s she pulled The Boss Bitch List from the fridge and checked off the last item before tucking it away into her journal, pride filling her chest at how far she had come. Her friends had been right - she had needed a holiday! And taking the time to mourn whilst also allowing herself to have some fun was exactly what she had needed to begin her recovery process.

Two more missives arrived from Ron over the next couple days - this time delivered by Ron’s owl directly to Draco’s house. While the first letter conveniently came while Draco was busy putting Scorpius to bed, the second came during dinner the following day, which meant that Hermione was unable to hide it from Draco. When Hermione set it down on the table with thinly veiled disgust, Draco realized who it must be from. He read it for her and assured her it was simply more of the same - where are you, what are you doing, I need to know how you are, etc.

Although Hermione insisted that she wasn’t in any actual danger, she eventually agreed that Draco could add some additional protective wards to both their cottages, just in case. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d been trying to hide the situation from Draco, other than it just seemed like a bad idea for him to get involved in anything regarding her ex-husband. They kept their conversation fairly light since Scorpius was with them and went to bed without discussing it further. She could tell that Draco remained agitated about the situation - whether it was over her having withheld that Ron had continued to reach out to her, or that he was simply worried about her safety, she couldn’t tell. 

Even so, there was no spirling argument, as there would have been between her and Ron. There was no yelling or screaming or hurtful words that couldn’t be taken back. There was only a little stiffness, a bit of uncomfortable silence as they prepared for bed, and that was all. Once they had both climbed into bed and turned out their lights, Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her close to his bare chest, just as he did every night.

Despite not having read Ron’s letters herself, their arrival inevitably triggered more nightmares. 

She spent the next several nights sprawled out on Draco’s living room rug sketching, possessed with the frenzied hope that if she just gave the memories a new place to live, they would stop filling her mind as she slept. 

More faces of the dead. 

More scenes of terror that she would never forget, no matter how hard she tried. 

Ever since Draco’s reappearance into her life, Hermione had begun to dream about some of the darker days she had lived through during her early years at Hogwarts. Things she hadn’t thought of in years, her escapades with Harry and Ron when they’d been a mere 12, 13, 14 years old, tinged with more fear and violence than they had actually endured at the time. 

It was cathartic to transport things she had seen and experienced onto paper. It was emotionally exhausting work, but after each session, she fell into bed beside Draco feeling as though she had purged something toxic from her bloodstream. 

During her waking hours, she felt raw and vulnerable and tired, but grateful that the letters hadn’t triggered a severe panic attack or PTSD episode like it had two months prior. 

With each purge of memory, she felt herself growing stronger. 

And now, amidst the terrors, she saw more and more images of her little girl with the wild curls. Whether she was asleep or awake - it didn’t matter. The visions came to her with increasing frequency, and she would race to put them onto paper before they could be taken from her. 

She cried while she worked until she was empty and exhausted. 

The workweek ended and bled into another weekend, and she let Draco flip through her illustrations the following Saturday morning. He had little to say, but she could tell by the way he devoured the pages that he was moved by the images in a way neither of them could properly articulate with words. 

Draco asked after her novel during their late Saturday afternoon walk with Chico, which was quickly becoming a bit of a tradition for the three of them. Are you finally going to let me read it? I can help you work out the plot!!  But Hermione brushed him off again - not ready to reveal the crossroads that had her stuck with a terrible case of writer’s block. In the back of her mind, she worried what Draco may make of her uncertainty regarding the whirlwind romance her two main characters had unexpectedly found themselves in. 

Would her heroine choose to settle down with the man from her past that she had never planned on having a relationship with? 

Or would she continue her journey alone after becoming strong enough to stand on her own two feet, and leave the illogical romance behind her? 

Hermione was still unsure which ending was right for her heroine, or which would be the most poignant for the reader. She was still waiting for some sort of sign to point her one way or the other, hoping that the right direction would miraculously make itself clear to her somehow.

That night after they tucked Scorpius into bed, the two of them curled up together on the couch in front of the fire, Draco with the novel he was currently reading and Hermione with her sketchbook. She let her fingers work uninhibited and didn’t stop until she was finished, another scene of domesticity that she would never experience with her little girl. Draco put his book down when he sensed she was done and leaned over to take a peek, tucking Hermione into his side as she rested her cheek on his chest. After a long moment of studying it, he leaned back into the couch and stroked her head gently. 

“Have you thought about doing something as a memorial?” Draco murmured quietly, barely loud enough to hear over the sound of the fire that crackled in the hearth. 

“Like what?” she wondered, her mind sluggish after spending the better part of an hour hunched over the table. 

“I’m not sure, love; something that will help you say goodbye?” he wondered. 

“I don’t want to forget her,” Hermione whispered, a tear rolling silently down her cheek. Draco hugged her closer to him and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I know,” Draco’s voice was rough with emotion, breaking slightly as he too caught his breath. He picked up the illustration and placed it on their laps, running his fingers lightly across it. “But saying goodbye doesn’t necessarily mean forgetting. It would be an opportunity to let go.” Hermione nodded and closed her eyes. “Promise you’ll think about it?” he asked, and she could hear in his voice how much he hurt for her. 

Her chest ached at the weight of it all - to have someone that cared so much about her that her pain had become theirs. 

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll think about it.”

***

Sunday, November 24 - Wednesday, November 27

On Sunday Hermione headed back to her cozy little cottage while Draco and Scorpius prepared to spend a few days with his parents in the Alps. Apparently they went skiing and luxuriating at one of the finest resorts in France every year to celebrate Lucius’ birthday. While Draco did invite her, she graciously declined - preferring the comfort of her own cottage to an exhausting trip abroad. She just didn’t feel up to such an excursion - especially not one that would no doubt include rubbing elbows with many of the Malfoy’s pureblood family friends. Hermione knew what it would mean to go - and be introduced to everyone as Draco’s girlfriend - and just wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Luckily, Draco understood without her having to fully explain. 

It occurred to Hermione that to outsiders, it may seem unconventional for her to have all but moved in with Draco and Scorpius over the last month. They hadn’t discussed it since their initial conversation about the way he checked in with Scorpius, but Hermione was careful not to overstep her bounds and both the boys had made it clear that their desire was for her to be with them as much as she was able to be. 

It now felt old hat to have Scorpius help her in the kitchen, or take him and Chico out for a walk while Draco took care of some last-minute details for work, or to tuck Scorpius in together as a team. Hermione knew Scorps’ routine as well as Draco’s disciplinary style and felt comfortable stepping in to help, which she could tell Draco appreciated immensely. She had found herself seamlessly folded into their everyday life over the last month, and while it didn’t make all that much sense, it certainly felt right. In past relationships, Hermione had always felt the need for strict boundaries and lots of personal space, but she had yet to feel that way with Draco. She simply never got tired of being with him and Scorpius and felt completely at home there with them. 

Even so, when she arrived back at her little rental cottage laden down with groceries and an over-excited Chico, Hermione knew it would be good for her to spend a few quiet days alone. 

***

Unsurprisingly, Hermione found that she just didn’t sleep as well without Draco next to her. She woke early on Monday morning and went for a run in the cold morning light, followed by a scalding shower to help warm her back up. She worked for most of the day on revising the first third of her novel and thinking over Draco’s suggestion that she memorialize her daughter in some way. 

Just as she was about to make herself some dinner, the doorbell rang. Awaiting her on the stoop was the most elaborate bouquet she had ever seen. 

Taking it from the delivery man, she hurried to the kitchen with a smile on her face, sure that Draco had been the one to send them. But when she opened the card, it was to find that they had come from Ron. 

I know I have some things to make up for - but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make up for them. I’ll always love you. 

Hermione dropped the card as though it was on fire. She clutched at her heart as a burning rage roared up inside of her. 

How dare he make such claims. 

Before she could second guess herself, she had sent a flurry of wandless slicing hexes at the blooms and levitated the bouquet's remains into a conjured box to send back to him. 

On Tuesday she received a minted first edition of Hogwarts a History from him, which just made her laugh. As if she didn’t already have a first edition of her favorite childhood book. As if such a gift could possibly make up for the ways he’d hurt her. She went on a long afternoon run with Chico, working the frustration out of her body by pounding her feet hard on the packed earth of her favorite trail. 

By Wednesday she’d had quite enough and she burned the stuffed kneazle he’d sent her until it was charred beyond recognition. The card was next - although she did take a second to read it, dying to know what malarkey he was spouting now. 

My patience is wearing thin, darling. If I don’t receive notice that you’re okay, I’ll be forced to find you and check on you.  

Hermione’s blood ran cold, and she wondered if maybe she should be afraid of Ron. 

She shook out her limbs and retreated to the tub, where she spent the better part of two hours sipping whiskey and smoking. She knew it wasn’t the best method of coping, but by the time she pulled herself from the tub, she felt much calmer and had assured herself that she had nothing to worry about. She’d also been unable to keep the idea of a memorial out of her head and had an idea about what she wanted to do. Especially now that her collection of illustrations of her little girl was nearly complete, she knew the time was right. 

That night she sent a text to Draco, who was set to arrive home the next morning. 

I’ve been thinking about what you said and I’d like to do it tomorrow. Do you have to go into the office? 

She tucked herself into bed with a good book and was just nodding off to sleep when his reply came back. 

I’ll be there <3

***

Thursday, November 28

Hermione stared for a long time at her wardrobe that morning, unsure what she should put on. Everything felt too informal or inappropriate for the occasion she was preparing herself for. In the end, she went with a black, floor-length skirt with narrow pleats and her favorite white silk blouse, adorned with pearl buttons. She forced herself to take a few bites of toast and a sip of tea, although she could barely choke it down. Draco arrived promptly at their agreed upon time and helped her slide her arms into her black trench, buttoning a few of her buttons to ward off the chill of the dreary November morning. 

Draco apparated them to the clearing by the lake that she had begun to think of as theirs, and Hermione steadied herself, breathing deeply before walking slowly to the tall Oak nearest the water. She set her bag down and drew her wand, but Draco laid a hand upon her arm, gesturing for her to wait. 

“I have something for you,” he murmured and withdrew a small item from his pocket before enlarging it to its proper size and handing it to her. It was a wooden chest, about twice the size of a shoebox. Hermione sat down upon a nearby stump and ran her hands along it, admiring the expert craftsmanship. 

“I began working on it the night that you and I ran into each other. I just finished it last week, actually, and didn’t have any specific plans for it. But when you texted last night ...I just thought you might like to use this. It felt as though it might ...suit her.” 

Hermione swallowed, choking back the lump in her throat. The lid of the chest was covered in delicately carved roses, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. 

“Draco, I ...it's….” she drew a deep breath and traced the delicate pattern of the wood with her fingertips. “It’s perfect. I’ve been feeling so sad that I never got to give her a name, but after seeing this ...it's as though it was made for her. For my…. my Rosie.” Hermione finished in a whisper, vaguely registering in the back of her mind that this must be the type of work he got up to in his garage. 

Draco came to stand behind her and laid a hand upon her shoulder in reassurance. 

“Then it’s yours, my love.” 

Hermione opened the chest and slowly placed the things she’d gathered within it, laying them softly, one by one, in reverence. 

A tiny pair of tennis shoes that she had picked out the day she found out she was pregnant. 

The onesie that Ginny had bought for Hermione that read I love my Mommy.

A small locket adorned with what would have been her birthstone. 

One of the portraits that Hermione had recently finished, which depicted Rosie sitting on a tree swing, her face alight with laughter. 

Hermione was just about to close the lid when Draco conjured a single red rose, placing a stasis charm upon it before gently laying it inside. 

Draco took his wand and created a small hole in the ground at the base of the large Oak, and Hermione placed the box in the earth, sitting beside it and running her hand once more along the top. She stood and stepped back and Draco joined her, grasping her hand tightly in his. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at the wooden chest in the ground, dreaming of all the things that would never be.

“I won’t forget you, Rosie,” she whispered softly. 

They stood quietly for an indeterminable amount of time until her legs were shaky and her tears were frozen on her cheeks. 

“Are you ready, Hermione?” Draco asked softly, and she nodded, stepping away and watching as he placed protection charms upon the chest and filled the hole with dirt. Hermione knelt next to the grave and from her wand produced a miniature rose bush. She dug her hands into the earth and planted the bush by hand, relishing the tangibility of the soil against her fingertips. With another wave of her wand, she etched a marker into the trunk of the large Oak and protected it against the weather so that she could always return and remember her little girl with the wild curls. 

Rose Granger

 Carried for a moment, but loved for a lifetime 

Hermione ran her hand along the words and a sob broke from her lips. She took a deep breath before forcing herself to stand. Sprinkles of rain began to fall and she inherently felt as if the earth was collectively sighing around her - crying with her. Looking away from the grave and out upon the water, she watched as the surface began rippling in the wind that had kicked up. Her hands fell down to her sides and she closed her eyes, allowing all the feeling to flow out of her limbs until she was empty, releasing all that she’d been holding onto.

Goodbye 

The word rang in her ears and even as the rain began to fall in earnest, drenching them in moments, and the waters of the lake began to churn and roil - for the first time in a very long time, she felt still. 

Empty. 

Draco came to her and she allowed him to apparate them back to her house. He led her up the stairs, helped her out of her drenched silk and into the bath before slipping in behind her. Hermione leaned back against him and closed her eyes, sinking further into the stillness, numb.

Draco washed her hair with soft murmurs and Hermione sat quietly, her brain far away, her eyes dry but unseeing. The feel of his hands against her bare skin soothed her, and she allowed him to pull her from the tub and tuck her into bed without a fuss. He crawled in after extinguishing the lights, smoothing her hair and holding her tight against his chest. 

Hermione closed her eyes and listened to the rain that pounded upon the roof, quickly falling into an exhausted sleep. 

***

Hermione woke an hour or so later, feeling as if her body was filled with sand. She sat up blearily and peeked at Draco, who was sitting with his back against the headboard, a book open in his lap. Upon seeing her stir he put his book down and Hermione scooched over into his lap, snuggling in as Draco tucked the comforter around them, creating a cozy cocoon. He brushed her hair away from her face and she tucked her head beneath his chin, snuggling close and breathing in the comforting scent that was just Draco. 

Beginning with soft kisses on his chest, Hermione languidly ran her lips up his neck till she reached his jaw. Draco tilted his head to give her better access and Hermione turned in his arms to straddle him, making her way up to his ear before biting down on his jaw. Draco chuckled and nipped at her in turn, but Hermione evaded him and instead captured his lips in a searing kiss, a furious need to have him suddenly overwhelming her. 

Draco pulled back after a moment and met her eyes, and Hermione was arrested by the depth of feeling she saw reflected back at her. 

“I know this might not be the right time to say it, but I can’t hold it back any longer,” he whispered, his hands coming to cup her face. Hermione sucked in a breath and her lids filled, her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

“I love you, Hermione,” he finished softly, and a watery laugh poured from her lips. She ran her hands up his chest, her gaze locked upon his; she couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. 

It had never been a question, really - of if she would fall in love with him. From the very start, their connection had been electric in a way she’d never experienced before. It had merely been a question of when, and now that the words had been released she felt as if she had loved him for some time now. 

“I love you, too.” She whispered giddily, her smile stretching from ear to ear, enraptured with the emotion she saw etched across Draco’s face as he looked back at her, memorizing her. 

It felt as if this was the kind of moment authors tried to capture but could never get quite right. Hermione knew that she had never shared such a moment with anyone before, and wondered if very many people actually got the privilege to. It was as if she was looking into his soul, and he into hers; their hearts completely laid bare and connected, enraptured by each other entirely. 

She was the one to break first - launching herself at him - and Draco laughed into her lips before flipping her deftly, making short work of their clothing. His hands and lips passed over her body in reverence, along her neck and her hardened nipples, down to her hip bones and along her already slick cunt. He lapped softly against her folds for only a moment before Hermione pushed him away, desperate to have him inside of her. He slid up along her body and pinned her hands above her head, their fingers locked together as he sunk inside of her with a groan. Hermione arched against him, gasping as he pressed his lips to hers in frenzied, open-mouthed kisses. 

Draco set a punishing pace, pounding in and out of her, their sweaty foreheads pressed together, hands anchored above her head. Hermione came with his name on her lips, stars bursting behind her closed lids, her body deliciously encapsulated by him. He tipped over the edge with her as she clenched desperately around him, and they lay entwined around each other as they caught their breath, grinning at each other like fools.

Hermione closed her eyes and simply breathed, wondering at how odd life was - that it would take one love away from her so tragically, only to bring her two more just as she learned to let the other go. Her heart still ached at the thought of her lost child, but it was a different ache than it had been just hours ago when she had dressed in her somber silks and knelt in the dirt, saying goodbye. 

A part of her restless spirit finally felt at ease; ready to move on. 

It was time. 

*** 

Saturday, November 30

With the arrival of another Saturday came a delicious pancake breakfast a-la-Draco, a morning walk with her boys and a letter from Narcissa, requesting Hermione’s presence for afternoon tea. 

Hermione agonized over the appointment all morning, certain that Narcissa’s disgruntled attitude towards her must have persisted over the last two weeks; but Draco assured her that he had smoothed everything over with his Mother during their Holiday in the Alps. When 4’o-clock rolled around Hermione left Draco to put Scorpius down for a nap and she floo’d to the Malfoy’s Parisian estate, which had been their primary residence since the end of the second war. 

The meeting began well enough with a friendly reception from Narcissa, followed by a short tour of the first floor of the estate. They chatted quite easily in the solarium for the majority of the tea, until Narcissa quietly set down her cup and folded her hands together, pausing as though gathering her thoughts. 

“I owe you many apologies Hermione,” she began, and although Hermione began to protest, Narcissa held up her hand and shook her head. 

“No - I do, I absolutely do. You have experienced so much suffering at our hands, Hermione, and nothing I say could ever make up for what’s happened in the past. But please know how terribly sorry I am.” Narcissa sighed, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her eyes. Hermione took a breath and leaned forward to place a steadying hand on Narcissa’s arm.

“Thank you, Narcissa,” she said softly, understanding just how hard it must have been to say. 

“The fact that you and Draco have come together after such a terrible history is nothing short of miraculous,” Narcissa and Hermione both chuckled, and Hermione sipped again at her tea, nodding in agreement. 

“It is, indeed.” Another long pause reverberated around the room, and Hermione got the impression as she observed Narcissa steal her breath that the awkward part of the tea was not yet finished.

“I am truly happy that you have found each other Hermione. From what Draco has told me, you are already so close despite not having been together very long.” Hermione sat up straighter, preparing herself for the ‘but’ that she knew must be coming. 

“Has Draco shared what he and Astoria went through after they moved back into the manor?” Narcissa asked lightly. 

“Yes, he has…” Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion as to where this was going. 

“Then I’m sure you’ll understand how protective I feel over both my son and my grandson,” Hermione simply nodded, and Narcissa paused once more before continuing. “Simply put Hermione…. I’m very worried. Despite what a good match the two of you make, and the fact that I do support it - trust me, I do! - what if this doesn’t work out? How is this going to affect Scorpius?” Narcissa shook her head and sighed once more. “Have the two of you thought about this? Talked about it? Scorpius has already lost one mother. I hate to think about how it will impact him if he loses another at such a young age.” 

Hermione’s back was rigid, and she realized belatedly that she was clutching her cup much too tightly. She set the cup lightly into its saucer, careful not to clink the china. There was an awkward silence as Hermione fought to control her temper - and her tears.

“I think Draco knows what’s best for his son, and I think this matter is one that should remain between him and me,” Hermione said in the politest tone she could muster. To her surprise, Narcissa chuckled. 

“I appreciate your defensiveness, my dear, I really do. Please don’t get me wrong - I agree that Draco is an excellent father. But we both know that men think with their cocks first, their brains second. And I would be remiss if I didn’t voice my concerns to you directly. It is because of my high regard for you that I am so candid, Hermione.” 

Hermione nodded - simply to appear agreeable - although a faint buzzing had begun in her ears and she had no clue what to say, or how to feel.

“All I’m asking, Hermione, is whether or not you’re sure. I’m not looking for an answer here and now; but please - please consider this before you move forward in your relationship with my son. Please be sure, Hermione. My grandson doesn’t deserve to lose another mother.”

The silence between them was deafening as Hermione stared at the floor, frozen. She sucked in a breath and all at once decided that she needed to leave - immediately. 

“I think it’s time that I take my leave, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you so much for the warm hospitality.” Hermione forced a fake smile onto her face and slung her purse strap over her shoulder, heading towards the door. Before she could turn the corner, Narcissa stood, calling out to her one last time. 

“Just think about it, Hermione.” 

Hermione looked back and met her eyes for an impossibly long moment before giving her a terse nod and heading down the hall towards the floo. 

***

Hermione tumbled from Draco’s fireplace and put a hand on the mantel to steady herself, gasping for breath. She stood there for a full minute, trying to clear her whirling thoughts when she turned and jumped in surprise to see Draco sitting on the couch in the dark, watching her.

“Draco! Merlin, you scared me! Why is it so dark in here?” She flicked her wand and the lamps glowed to life before setting her purse down and peeling off her heels.

“You won’t believe what -” Hermione stopped short, having turned and caught the look on Draco’s face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, wondering why on earth he was looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes and the ghost of an expression that she hadn’t seen since they were children.

It was then that she noticed her laptop sitting open on the coffee table in front of him.

“Draco…you didn’t -” 

“Oh, but I did, Hermione,” he said, his voice strangely devoid of emotion.

A flash of anger and fear flew through her, and her mouth hung open in disbelief. 

“What the fuck, Draco?!”

“I see now why you didn’t want me to read it.” He said, his voice dangerously calm. Hermione scoffed.

“Oh please - I just wasn’t ready to share it with anyone, that’s all,” she protested. Draco laughed humorlessly. 

“You’re telling me that this novel has nothing to do with us? We agreed - no games, Hermione.”

“I’m not playing games with you Draco!” she shouted, feeling desperate to make him understand, yet angry beyond belief at the same time. “My novel has nothing to do with us!”

“I don’t believe you,” he said coldly. “Clearly you’re deciding whether the woman - or should I say you - will stay, or leave.”  

Hermione flung her hands in the air and turned to grab her purse once more, almost toppling over as she shoved her heels back onto her feet. 

“Well in that case, just forget about it. Clearly you’ve already made up your mind about what I think and feel, so why should I even bother? And you’re the one who invaded my privacy and read my unfinished work! I’m the one who deserves to be angry here!” Hermione shouted and scooped up her laptop. 

“What, so now you are going to just going to leave? I’m not done talking about this, Hermione!” Draco snapped back, standing up and starting towards her.

“Well, I am done talking about this!” She turned to grab up some floo powder but before she could, Draco grabbed her arm and spun her around. Hermione screamed in surprise and stomped her heel onto the top of his foot. Draco yelped and let go, stepping back. 

“Hermione - Merlin, I’m sorry, okay - I didn’t mean to hurt you -” He reached for her again, slowly this time, but Hermione threw a hand up at him and sparks shot through her fingers as she glared. They both stopped in surprise at the accidental magic, and Hermione took a few deep breaths to calm herself. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me - I just got startled.” Draco nodded and began to approach once more, but Hermione kept her hand raised against him. 

“I need to take some time to rethink things, Draco,” Hermione said, her voice calm and steady despite the way her heart was splintering into a thousand pieces. 

“Hermione, let’s just -” 

“No,” she said with finality. “I need some time to think. Your mother has given me some things to consider, and you have as well.” Draco’s eyes widened and he stepped back, all the anger having disappeared from his face the second her hands had sparked in a warning. “I need some space,” she finished.

“Okay, Hermione,” he conceded. Their eyes remained locked on each other for a long moment before she shook herself and called out her address. She whirled away into the green flames and landed in her cold, dark cottage, wondering if she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life. 

Chapter Text

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists. One where my heart is full. My body is loved. And my soul understood.” - Melissa Cox

“You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have.” - F. Scott. Fitzgerald

Sunday, December 1st - Wednesday, December 4th 

Hermione Granger was royally pissed off. 

She was pissed that Draco had read her unfinished novel even after she’d explicitly told him not to. 

She was pissed that Narcissa had the nerve to butt her head into their relationship - which had been going swimmingly up until that afternoon. 

But what truly had her on the verge of either screaming or crying - or maybe both - was the fact that both Malfoys had made very good points. Though she technically may have the moral high ground, Hermione couldn’t deny that both Mother and Son had been justified in their reproachful questionings. Despite not being in the wrong, it felt as if she owed Draco - and possibly even Narcissa - an apology; and in Hermione’s book apologizing was tantamount to losing an argument. 

There were not many things that Hermione Granger hated more than losing an argument. 

No, Draco shouldn’t have violated her privacy; but there was truth in what he’d said. Hermione’s feelings weren’t as cut and dried as she may have led him to believe - which of course had been the real reason she hadn’t yet shared her novel with him. From the beginning of their relationship, she’d been open about her writing process, so his requests to read it were not at all unreasonable. 

In fact, he’d probably already caught on to the obvious similarities between their own romance and the one featured in her novel prior to reading it, just from what she’d told him about it. One of the many things she liked about Draco was how very intuitive he was. He could read people better than anyone else she knew - and he wasn’t the type of person that would let her get away with any bullshit. She supposed that was part of why he’d been so adamant from the beginning that they not play games with each other. Hermione was ashamed to have slightly reneged on that, despite the fact that it had truly been unintentional. He’d had a lifetime of relationships like that and didn’t want that for them; and while she did appreciate that, the reality of being so wholly authentic and laid bare for another person was absolutely terrifying.

And merlin - how could she fault Narcissa for caring so deeply about her son and grandson? If only she had been able to quell Narcissa’s fears right then and there with a yes, I’m sure, I want this and I’m not going anywhere. 

But the words hadn’t come. 

She simply wasn’t one hundred percent certain, and how could she disagree that both Scorpius and Draco deserved a woman who was sure?

They hadn’t even discussed their Christmas plans yet for Merlin’s sake. 

Yes, they had shared some of the deepest parts of themselves with each other. Yes, they had said I Love You and they got each other and they worked ...but there had not yet been a discussion of long term plans. 

Admissions of love were real and important but it was not the same as a serious, logistical conversation about the future. How could she tell Draco’s mother that she was sure that she was ready to step up to the plate as Scorpius’ Mother when she and Draco had never even spoken of it?

Despite how furious she was at the corner they had backed her into, Hermione knew without a doubt that she didn’t want to do anything that might hurt Scorpius, even if it meant discontinuing her relationship with Draco. 

Hermione’s body was shaking as she stepped out of the floo after leaving Draco’s, his wide eyes and the concerned twist of his mouth running over and over through her mind. 

‘Okay, Hermione’ he’d said, as though the very last thing he wanted was to let her go.

The house was dark and felt too quiet after spending so much time in the same dwelling place as a five-year-old and a grown man that sometimes acted like a five-year-old. Hermione walked through the house in a daze, checking in her usual slightly paranoid way that nothing was amiss and that she was safely alone in the little cottage. The inspection proved that she was, in fact, alone.

Alone; very much alone. 

For a few moments she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself, so she made a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen island, looking out at the back yard. After only a few moments of quiet reverie, she was struck by an idea. 

In mere minutes her phone had been switched to airplane mode, the fairy lights had been clicked on and she was snuggled up inside her fuzzy blanket on the couch, her laptop open on her knees. The conflicts of the afternoon had sparked something in her, and she suddenly knew what direction her novel was headed in. Whatever block she had been suffering from seemed to have been dislodged and her fingers flew across the keys, scarcely able to work as fast as her mind required. The final outcome still remained unclear, but the next few steps ahead had been illuminated. By the time her inspiration had run dry, the first rays of sunlight were streaming through the living room window. Hermione put herself to bed with quiet satisfaction, her mind finally blank and ready to leave her bigger problems for another day. 

***

It wasn’t until Wednesday that Hermione came up for air from her writing binge, victoriously punching the air and shrieking as tears streamed down her face. 

It was finished. 

With a flick of her wand, celebratory music began to play and she danced through the living room and around the kitchen until she was gasping and laughing with joy. Wiping the remnant of her tears from her cheeks, she sat down with the intention of emailing her editor, but she was struck with the overwhelming need to share her success with the one person who had truly been with her since the novel’s beginning. Her heart pounded in her chest and she worried her lip between her teeth, hesitating. 

It had only been three days, and though the heat from their argument had certainly cooled, Hermione was no closer to being ‘sure’ than she had been before. 

How could she be? Would she ever be sure? 

By Monday evening she’d turned her phone back on and unlocked the floo in case he was trying to get ahold of her - but there’d been nothing but radio silence. Draco was giving her space as she’d asked, and though she appreciated it, there was still a tiny part of her that had been hoping he’d come after her. 

It also begged the question of whether or not he was still angry about the novel. 

Indecision welled up within her and Hermione shook her head in an attempt to clear it. 

The reality was that Draco had read her work without her permission, and instead of supporting her or giving her the benefit of the doubt, he had jumped to conclusions. She didn’t want to make more of it than need be, but if she was being objective about the entire thing….  it was a bit of a red flag. 

Her finger pressed the backspace button, deleting the message she’d barely begun, and with a sigh sent an email to her editor instead. 

***

Friday, December 4th 

It had been less than forty-eight hours since she’d finished her manuscript, and Hermione had already done everything she could think of to keep herself busy. After finishing it on Wednesday she had gone for a long run with Chico to clear her head, followed by a luxurious soak in the tub - which had ended up being a bad idea. While initially relaxing, taking a bath had inevitably turned into an erotically charged daydream of being in the tub with Draco, which was the last thing she needed. Clearly, it was dangerous to get used to having such fantastic sex on the regular - she had only gone three days without it and she already felt on the verge of implosion. But, she had made a promise to herself to take as long as she needed to get some clarity, and she was going to stick to it.

Yes, stick to it - just stick to it. How hard can this be?? She cajoled herself rather madly as she flopped onto her bed in just a towel. Get a grip, Hermione! In a rather futile effort to distract herself, she holed up in her bedroom for the evening in order to take one more pass through her novel, tweaking things along the way. 

Thursday morning Hermione enjoyed a nice lie-in, but the extra sleep did little to even out her mood. In fact, she woke up feeling sorrier for herself than she had in ages, and was rather indignant with the Malfoys. She would have happily gone along living in that perfect relationship bubble with Draco forever, but they just had to come along and ruin it. Typical Slytherins - always ruining everything.  

Logically, Hermione knew that that fun ‘new relationship’ phase would have had to end at some point, but she hadn’t been ready for it to burst as soon - or as dramatically - as it had. The whole thing seemed quite unfair. But after several hours of moping Hermione became sick of her whiny inner-dialog, and resolved to be finished with complaining for the day.

Fuck the Malfoys! She declared, forcing herself out of bed. The rest of Thursday was pleasantly spent shopping, stocking up on all of her and Chico’s favorites. The only downside to this was having to face the Christmas cheer that had sprung up overnight now that December had arrived. She avidly avoided any and all signs of Christmas, determining that it was much too early in the month to be worrying about the holidays. 

Ever since Hermione had gone away to Hogwarts, Christmas had been one of the hardest times of the year for her. She had traveled home for the holidays during her first year in excitement, expecting everything to be as she remembered it; but nothing was the same. Despite how much her parents loved her, Hermione no longer felt as though she belonged there with the two of them. Her relationship with them became strained and uncomfortable, and by the time she was thirteen she had begun to realize that her parents barely knew her - and that she may never have a true home with them ever again. While it was easy to ignore this reality for most of the year, it was thrown into devastatingly sharp relief during Christmastime.

If only it could have been different somehow. When she was at home, she longed to be at Hogwarts; and when she was at Hogwarts, she longed to be at home. The problem was, even home no longer felt like home to her any longer. No matter what she did, or where she went, she could never quite manage to feel as though she was where she was meant to be.

Now, Christmas brought memories of a snow-laden graveyard and a giant snake slashing towards them through the darkness. It brought back the first Christmas after her parent’s death when she had spent the weekend alone in her parent’s house mourning their loss, alone with a bottomless supply of fire-whiskey. Christmas Eve’s spent hiding in the upper rooms of the Burrow, trying to escape the sickeningly endless holiday cheer that Molly exuded. Disappointed Christmas mornings, opening gifts from her husband that had clearly been purchased last minute without a thought to what she may actually like. 

The previous year had been particularly dreadful. She and Ron had fought two days prior to Christmas and he had left to spend the week at the Burrow without her. Hermione had spent most of Christmas day in bed, wondering if this was as good as life was going to get. 

If so, she hadn’t felt like it would be worth living much longer. 

The arrival of Christmas decorations and music and colder weather triggered her memories of Christmasses past, and by the time Hermione arrived back at the cottage after shopping on Thursday morning, she was in a bit of a state. Still resolved on not spending the day in a pity party, she passed the afternoon binge-watching trashy shows on the telly and eating crisps to her heart’s content, ignoring the pressure that was building in her chest. 

But it could only be ignored for so long. 

By the time evening rolled around, Hermione just couldn’t put the memories off any longer. 

With a deep sigh and a well of determination, she took out her charcoal pencils and her high-quality parchment and spread out on the living room floor to work. If there was anything she had learned during her holiday in the Cotswolds, it was that the only way to move forward was to stop avoiding the pain and sit with it for as long as it demanded. 

The only way out was to move through it.

So she spilled her holiday horrors onto the pages one by one, surgically removing them from her mind, intentionally feeling every square inch of the pain. All the sorrow, anger, fear, anxiety and overwhelm she’d felt in the past came pouring out onto the page. The need to expel it from her system was so great that her fingers could hardly work fast enough to appease her racing spirit. 

Harry, lying on his side in the snow atop his parent’s grave, curled into a fetal position, his eyes closed tightly in agony. Haunted darkness reached for him from beyond the pages, and her best friend lay surrendered to its clutches, ready to breathe his last and sink beneath the ground to join the bones that lay there. 

The Great Hall decked out with all it’s larger-than-life Christmas trimmings: gargantuan trees and garlands, magical mistletoe and fairies fluttering amidst the falling snow that drifted down from the enchanted ceiling. But gone were the tables laden with the traditional banquet - and in their place were the bodies of those that died in battle, carefully laid in rows along the cold stone floor. The beautiful decorations were turned absurd in the face of the tragedies that had occurred there.

An arrangement of high-ball glasses - once full of amber liquid but now empty - formed into the shape of a Christmas tree upon her parent’s coffee table.

The image of a woman in her bed, curled underneath a mountain of blankets, bloodshot eyes watching the snow falling outside of her window.

Harry at age eleven with a Santa hat on his head, sitting cross-legged on the ground in an abandoned classroom. He stared at an ancient gilded mirror, an eerily happy look upon his face as he gazed at the empty-looking glass.

A couple entwined and falling through a window, a skeletal hand outstretched towards them. 

There were more - many, many more - and the longer she worked, the sadder she became. It felt like too much for her to overcome; the tragedy, the disappointment, the loneliness. In a fit of nostalgia, she set her mother’s favorite Christmas album to play on her phone and spent several hours tucking each memory into the portfolio Draco had given her. She sang softly to herself and cried while she worked, and she cried and cried and cried until the tears had all run dry. 

As she fell asleep in the early hours of Friday morning, Hermione wondered if maybe this Christmas would be different. 

Maybe this Christmas, she could truly put the past to rest and replace her old wounds with new memories. 

When Hermione woke hours later, it was to the feel of the warm afternoon sun streaming down on her. Though the grief from the night before was still fresh, it was more manageable after getting some sleep. She felt a bit stir crazy after being cooped up inside most of the week, so she went on a brisk run with Chico and spent several hours mindlessly cleaning the cottage - without magic. Finally at around three in the afternoon she collapsed onto the back porch swing with a fresh cup of coffee, hemming and hawing about whether or not to text Draco. 

Despite the fact that she’d been the one to request space, Hermione had still expected him to have reached out to her by now. The week had certainly given her plenty of time for her anger to cool, and she did feel a tad more reasonable about the entire thing ...but there still hadn’t been that moment of clarity she had been hoping for. Yes, she was missing both Draco and Scorpius terribly, and she hated being away from them ...but she was so unsure about the future. She had just barely begun to get her feet beneath her. Could she really be sure that she wanted to be with Draco forever when she was still healing from her relationship with Ron? 

Logic said one thing, while her heart said another. 

Would Draco still be angry with her over the novel? 

Had he stayed away in order to honor her request for space, or because he didn’t want to see her?  

In the end, Hermione decided that she would just have to woman-up and call the sod - because if she didn’t get some answers soon she might go mad from not knowing. 

The first call rang three times and then went to voicemail; not a good sign. Hermione called a second time immediately, only to have it ring once and then go to voicemail again. Her heart sank and she stood up, pacing on the porch as she waited to leave a message. He must not want to talk to her - why else would he be declining her calls?

“Hey Draco, I was just calling to see if we could - hold on, I think there’s someone at my door -” Chico had begun to bark and prance around, and a loud knocking reverberated through the house all the way to the backyard. A surge of anxiety flooded through her; she had a feeling in her gut of who it might be. She frantically combed a hand through her wayward curls and tugged at the running kit that was now quite dirty and smelly after her run and the hours spent manually cleaning. A loud pounding of the door rang through the house once more and she heard a muffled rebuke from the other side.

“Scorpius, stop that! It’s impolite to -” 

Hermione swung the door open and looked at the boys with wide eyes, her heart in her throat at the sight of them. Before she could think of anything to say, Scorpius launched himself at Hermione with a cry and wrapped his arms around her middle, clinging to her. With a gasp and a laugh she stumbled backward and grabbed him beneath his armpits, hauling him up to her chest so they could hug properly. 

Draco shuffled inside and shut the door behind himself, lingering awkwardly a few paces away, looking on as his son settled into Hermione’s embrace. Scorpius rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her neck, squeezing as tightly as he could. Tears welled up and threatened to spill over when she met Draco’s eyes over Scorp’s shoulder, an inscrutable look on his face that made her insides turn to mush.

Hermione turned away from Draco in overwhelm as the gravity of this little boy’s love washed over her. She placed a hand on the back of Scorpius’ neck and rested her cheek against the top of his head, gently rocking him back and forth. 

“We missed you this week, Mione,” Scorpius mumbled into her neck.

And just like that, the moment was over, though it left Hermione reeling. Scorpius let go and slithered down to the floor, looking up at her with a pout. Hermione laughed and ruffled his hair, glancing at Draco out of the corner of her eye. Had Scorpius been asking after her? Guilt washed over her at having upset their routine - with her presence to begin with, and then with her absence.

“Dad missed you too, Mione - he told me so,” Scorpius reported, and Hermione giggled at the way Draco’s cheeks tinged red.

“Did you?” she asked Draco in a small voice as Scorpius knelt down to give Chico a hug around the neck.

“I did,” he confirmed solemnly.

“I really missed you guys too,” she confirmed with a weak smile.  

“We were just around the corner on our way home from school when I saw you were calling - I thought maybe we could talk in person,” Draco rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “But we probably shouldn’t have just come unannounced - I’m sorry. Scorp, we should -” 

Hermione waved her hands to stop him, immediately terrified they would leave. 

“No! No, please stay! I’m glad you came over! Scorp, would you like to go play with Chico in the backyard?”

Scorpius shouted his agreement enthusiastically and the adults chuckled, heading automatically towards the kitchen. 

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she squeaked, internally kicking herself for how weird her voice sounded. Draco slid his hands into his pockets and rocked onto his heels.

“Sure, sounds good,” he said, awkwardly looking around the kitchen.

Hermione busied herself with preparing the coffee before joining Draco at the window above the sink to watch Scorpius and Chico’s playful reunion. As she passed him his mug their fingers brushed, and a shiver ran down her spine at having him so close after missing him so fervently. She snuck a peek at him out of the corner of her eye, taking note of his tensed shoulders and furrowed brow. 

He didn’t appear angry, but maybe a bit nervous? Unsure? 

Just as the silence began to get unbearably awkward, Draco set his coffee mug down on the counter and turned to face her. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have just dropped by, I agreed to give you space and I’ve been trying to do that; but I don’t think I can be here with you and do this like….this.” He gestured to the space in between them and Hermione immediately understood, because she felt the same. 

To be in the same room, exchanging pleasantries like they were mere acquaintances, keeping a respectable distance between themselves….it was torture. 

Tears welled up in her eyes when Draco backed up a step, waiting for her response. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him to please stay, but she couldn’t seem to formulate the words. He watched her gape for a moment before nodding in defeat and turning away. 

Time slowed and Hermione felt as though she was frozen as Draco moved towards the back door. Her heart was pounding wildly and her ears were buzzing and her feet were glued to the floor as panic rose inside her - just say something dammit! Say something! Anything! She gasped a breath and just as he was about to open the door and call Scorpius inside, her body seemed to come back to life. 

With a dramatic lunge, she flung herself towards him and grabbed his arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. 

“No! Draco, wait! I….. Fuck ! Please don’t go ! I don’t need any more space, I don’t want it!” Her chest heaved as she watched Draco with bated breath. He hesitantly stepped closer and brought a hand up to grasp her elbow comfortingly, another spark shooting down her spine at his touch.

“Hermione, are you sure? I know I fucked up - Merlin did I fuck up - and I’m sorry. And what my mother said ...” Draco took his hand from her elbow and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I went and saw her after you left, and I can’t believe everything she said to you. I don’t want to rush you if you need more time to think about everything.” 

Hermione breathed in a deep breath, tears still threatening to fall from her lids. She crossed her arms and looked down, scuffing one shoe across the floor, worrying that maybe he was in agreement with his mother’s concern that she be sure. 

“Thank you, Draco. I am going to need more time to think and we certainly will need to talk more…” she trailed off, brushed away a tear away and shook her head, gathering her courage to continue. “But I don’t need any more space to do that, Draco. I don’t want it,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so much,” she huffed out a derisive laugh at herself, rolled her eyes and swiped at another tear. Draco smiled tentatively and stepped closer as though he meant to draw her into his arms - but Hermione pulled back, not quite finished with what needed to be said. 

“About what your mother said ...I don’t have an answer for you yet. I…. I don’t think I’m as sure as I should be, Draco; but I don’t know what to do. I’ve been hoping for some clarity all week and it just hasn’t come….” Hermione hugged her arms around herself in misery and looked out the window at Scorpius, who was happily playing fetch with Chico. Her heart clenched painfully with love for him, and with the pain of possibly having to give him up. Draco tried to tug her back around, and though she fought against it for a moment - this time he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look up, and Hermione was floored by the fire in his gaze. 

“I don’t give a fuck about that, Hermione.” His voice was low and growling, and the heat that had begun to smolder inside of her surged upwards, taking her breath away. “That doesn’t matter-” 

Hermione cut him off, batted his hands away and stepped back, raising her voice. 

“But it does matter Draco! How can you say it doesn’t matter?! Just the thought of hurting Scorpius because something might not work between us…” Hermione gasped and cupped her hand over her mouth, barely stifling the sob that tore through her chest. Tears began to fall down her cheeks in earnest and another sob broke through her lips. Draco pulled her into his arms, this time not allowing her to push him away. She struggled for just a moment before relaxing into his embrace, allowing him to rock her gently as her tears ran their course. After she caught her breath, Draco pulled her face up once more so that he could look her in the eye.

This time she didn’t resist him; couldn’t resist him. When their eyes finally met, Hermione’s breath rushed from her lungs and she was immediately overwhelmed - captivated - by the love she saw shining down at her. Draco wiped her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs and walked her back a few feet until her hip hit the kitchen counter. 

“Just the fact that you care so much is answer enough for me, Hermione. I don’t need you to be one hundred percent sure, ” Draco chuckled lightly. “It would be ridiculous of me to expect that so early on in our relationship. Besides….” he leaned in and kissed her forehead, her eyes falling closed at the soft touch of his lips. “I’m sure enough for the both of us.” Hermione’s heart clenched and she sank further into his arms.

Draco brushed her nose with his affectionately before leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers, sighing deeply, his arms wrapped around her waist. Hermione opened her eyes and they locked with his, searching his face for an assurance of honesty, still finding it a little hard to believe that he was as wonderful and understanding as he appeared to be.

She searched for doubt, and uncertainty, and dishonesty. She searched for manipulation and any sign that he was leading her on. But no matter how hard she looked, all Hermione saw in his face was uninhibited adoration. Her breathing turned shallow and a flurry of butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach, her fingers and toes tingling in anticipation. Draco’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, as though he knew what she had been trying to figure out.

“So unless you have any objections my dear, I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered slowly, and she watched as his eyes darted down to her lips, waiting patiently for her answer. 

But she was so completely done with waiting. 

Hermione sprang forward and crushed his lips against hers, and Draco caught her in his arms with a laugh of surprise. 

“I’m guessing there are no objections, then?” he snarked in between her peppered kisses across his lips and jaw. Hermione slapped him on the arm before wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging his body down to hers. 

“Shut up and kiss me you prat,” she murmured against his lips before opening her mouth and sweeping her tongue along his. Draco groaned and swiftly picked her up, depositing her unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter before stepping in between her legs. Hermione moaned as he ran his large, calloused hands along her arms and up to cradle her face, his thumbs pressed almost too tightly against her jaw. Though she’d only been without him for five days, it had felt like a lifetime apart, and Hermione greedily drank him in.

Time stood still as they got lost in each other, the world falling away. 

Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him into her even more tightly, her hands running through his hair before she trailed them down to his chest and to his belt buckle. She slipped her fingers just barely into the waistband of his denims and Draco shuddered, moaning into her mouth. Hermione teased him for a moment longer and was just about to undo his buckle when their bubble was abruptly popped by the sound of the back door opening, followed by little footsteps and puppy paws pattering on the floor. 

Draco jumped comically away and straightened his shirt, and they shared a conspiratorial look at having completely forgotten that Scorpius was in the backyard. The five-year-old promptly demanded sustenance upon entry of the kitchen, having not yet had his afternoon snack. Draco laughed and swung him up onto the counter next to Hermione, who directed what snacks Draco should get out of the fridge. Hermione looked on with a happy grin and listened to Scorpius chattering away, who was content to have the full attention of both adults. 

As they sat around the kitchen table eating and listening to Scorpius tell them about his day at school, the clarity Hermione had been searching for all week suddenly struck her like a lightning bolt. 

There was no place in the world she would rather be than right there with her two boys, and she couldn’t imagine that ever changing. That feeling she’d had for so many years - that she didn’t quite fit anywhere - was nowhere to be found. 

She might not be able to predict the future, but Hermione had never felt this way before - not ever. 

Not with anyone else. 

And if that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was. 

***

The trio was just finishing their snack when Draco realized that he and Scorpius were due at the Manor. As Scorpius ran about collecting his things, Draco pulled Hermione into another sweet, lingering kiss. They both felt as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

“I just have to have a short meeting with my Father and then get Scorpius settled in for the night - he’s been requesting a sleepover all week. What do you say we go out for dinner when I’m finished, and we can talk more?”

“That sounds brill,” she agreed, smiling against his lips. “I wanted to run by the bookstore before they close tonight to pick up an order - how about I do that first and then we can meet at the pub and go from there?” 

“It’s a date,” he winked as he shrugged on his coat and helped Scorpius into his. Scorpius ran to give her a hug and very sweetly asked if he would get to see her tomorrow. Hermione was thrilled to be able to tell him that he absolutely would be seeing her tomorrow. Scorpius barreled out towards the car, but before Draco could leave she tugged him back into the doorway for one more kiss.

“I’m glad you came over, Draco,” she whispered. He smiled and pressed one last chaste kiss to her lips. 

“Me too, love.”

After they left she hopped in the shower and did up her hair and makeup before selecting a wonderfully soft cashmere sweater dress, paired with tights and ankle boots. She had just opened the door to leave when an unfamiliar owl swooped inside, dropping an envelope to the ground before soaring back out. Hermione frowned in confusion and picked the envelope up, wondering why the sender had instructed the owl not to wait for a response. She tucked the envelope in her coat pocket and dug around her purse for her keys, locking the front door and heading to the car. 

It wasn’t until she had gotten buckled in that she remembered the envelope in her pocket, and ripped it open to take a quick look. There was no letter as she had anticipated - just a single photo. 

A photo of Hermione at the Burrow, posing with her hands on her stomach - the first and only picture that had been taken of her while she was pregnant. She had never had it developed, and thus was seeing it for the first time. 

An unexpected sob rose up in her chest and she pressed her hand to her mouth, fighting to breathe. It felt as though a bludger had suddenly knocked the wind out of her and she gasped, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. Clutching it with a shaking hand, she rubbed her thumb across the image first in astonishment, and then in sadness. 

It was incredible how quickly and easily the sadness could return to ruin a good mood when she least expected it. The car hummed around her comfortingly and she let her head flop back on the headrest, closing her eyes and forcing herself to breathe slowly and methodically. After a few moments she was able to return back to reality, and to her initial excitement over her date with Draco. Wondering what in the hell kind of message the photo was supposed to be, Hermione carefully returned the photo to her jacket pocket and headed into town with the resolve that this latest curveball from Ron wasn’t going to ruin her night. 

After parking near the pub, Hermione headed on foot towards the bookstore - a walk she had made many times over. But something felt different - something was off. As she strode down the sidewalk she began to feel strange, a prickle running down her spine. Shaking the odd feeling away, she picked up her pace and stepped into the cozy bookshop with a little sigh of relief. After browsing for a few moments she went up to the counter and chatted with the proprietor, paid for her order and headed back out out onto the street.

What had begun as a sunny day had turned into a dark, foggy late afternoon. A light sprinkle of rain had begun to fall and she pulled up her hood. Almost immediately she felt it again - a thrill of fear curling in her stomach, hair standing up on the back of her neck. 

Something was wrong. 

Hermione wordlessly released her wand from her arm holster and it slid into her waiting palm as she turned around to look behind her. But of course, no one was there. She cast an invisible protective shield around herself for the remainder of her walk back to the pub, all the while carefully watching and listening for anything out of the ordinary. 

With relief, she stepped inside the pub and took a seat at the bar to wait for Draco, who still wasn’t due to meet her for another 20 minutes. Nothing seemed at all amiss, so she tried to shake the ominous feeling still churning in the pit of her stomach. Trying to distract herself, she ordered a martini and began to peruse one of her newly acquired books. After a few minutes - and one martini - later, she was able to relax and immersed herself in her book. 

The bell above the pub door chimed about 5 minutes before Draco was set to arrive, but Hermione didn’t look up. It wasn’t until the shadow fell over her and the chair next to hers was yanked back with a loud scrape that she saw him. 

“Some things never change, huh? I see you’ve still got your nose buried in a book.” 

Hermione could do nothing but stare for a moment at the sight of her ex-husband as he sat next to her and signaled to the bartender. It was such an utter shock to see him that it felt as though her brain was short-circuiting. She stared at him with wide eyes as he placed his order, clutching the end of her wand that she still had hidden partially up her sleeve. 

A million questions swirled unintelligibly through her brain. Of course, he had written that he was going to find her if she didn’t answer his mail, but Hermione had thought it more likely that he was just trying to spook her. Although she’d been a little afraid of what he may do, she had seriously doubted he would actually go to the trouble of tracking her down and coming to see her. 

He had kept his distance - both physically and emotionally - for so long during their marriage; it made very little sense that he would go to such efforts to see her now that they were divorced. Did he have some sort of obsession with making her miserable? 

Ron took a sip of his drink and turned towards her, scoffing when he caught her wide eyes and white knuckles.

“Merlin Hermione, I don’t know why you’re surprised to see me. You haven’t been responding to my owls, and I told you if I didn’t hear from you I’d come looking.” 

A long and uncomfortable pause stretched between them as Hermione’s brain caught up with her.

“You were following me just now on the street, weren't you?” she accused, her eyes narrowed dangerously. Ron’s slightly guilty look was answer enough. “How did you even find me?  No one knew where I’d gone on Holiday.”

A smug look crossed his face and he swirled his drink, taking his time answering. 

“I take it you got the photo I sent you today?” he asked casually.

“Yes,” Hermione growled through her teeth, slipping a hand into her coat pocket and clutching at the picture, crumpling it in her palm. 

“Tracking charm,” he said casually, shrugging a shoulder and turning away from her, unwilling to meet her eyes. 

Hermione took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, shaking her head. 

Of course he’d used a tracking charm. 

“You know that it’s illegal to use tracking charms on adults unless it’s an emergency, Ron,” she said dryly, not shocked in the slightest that he’d stooped to such a method just to have another go at her. 

“You’re one to talk, Hermione,” Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes. A surge of anger rose within her and she opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. Ron watched with a raised eyebrow as if challenging her to argue that she had occasionally flouted magical law for her own purposes. 

“Besides,” Ron continued, “If you did try to bring up charges, all I’d have to do is prove that I thought you were in danger; which would be quite easy, seeing as you haven’t been responding to my letters.” 

Hermione pinched her nose in exasperation. 

“Maybe if we were still married that would be true, Ron, but in case you’re forgetting - we’re divorced,” she hissed, “and my whereabouts and wellbeing are none of your concern .” 

Ron’s face turned somber and he turned to look her in the eye.

“I will always care about your wellbeing, Hermione,” he said seriously. “We both know that we only got a divorce because you were suffering through some sort of mental breakdown, and now that you’re doing better I think we should try again!” Ron laid a hand atop Hermione’s but she yanked it away from him and leaned as far away as she could while still remaining in her chair. 

“What?” she snarled, her blood boiling in her veins. 

“I know that after you lost the baby you were having a hard time, but I’m willing to overlook that. Harry and Ginny told me that you seem like you’re doing better, so let’s put it behind us and have a fresh start! Hermione, we belong together!” he implored, and Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him with squinted eyes as though he had three heads. Blood was pounding in her ears and she shook her head for a moment, trying to make sense of the inanity Ron had spouted. 

“Let me get this straight, Ronald. You placed an illegal tracking charm on a photo of me - pregnant with the baby I lost - in order to come to tell me that you want to get back together because you believe the only reason we got a divorce was because I was having a mental breakdown?! Did I miss anything?” 

“Well, when you say it like that it does sound a bit-”

But before he could finish, a bubble of laughter had risen up inside of her and all of a sudden she was laughing uproariously, bent over the bar with tears streaming down her face.

“Oh my GOD,” she gasped out, continuing to laugh with uncontrollable hilarity. “That’s the funniest thing I have ever heard!” Ron crossed his arms and began to seethe, but she paid him no mind, merely wiping at her face and shaking her head in disbelief. 

“You know what, Ronald -” she drank the last few sips of her Martini and threw some bills down to cover her tab before pulling out her phone, “Thanks for the laugh, but I think we’re done here.” She gave him a hard pat on the shoulder - as if to say good riddance - before heading towards the door and sending off a quick text to Draco.

Change of plans - Ron showed up at the pub. Heading to car now, see you at your house?

Just as she stepped through the door she heard him follow after her, but she just continued on her way, pulling her keys from her purse and turning the corner to the dark, deserted side street where she’d parked. She almost made it to the car when Ron caught up to her and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. 

“We are not done Hermione,” he snarled. Infuriated, Hermione pushed his chest with both hands, succeeding in shoving him back several feet. 

“If you honestly believe that my behavior was the only reason we got a divorce then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought you were!” she screeched, finally unleashing the anger that had been unfurling since the photo had arrived by owl post. “How can you even say that Ron? Why the fuck are you even here?!” 

“You’re the one that said you wanted a divorce, Hermione!”

“Oh my GOD, Ron! I asked for a divorce after I’d just caught you fucking someone else IN OUR BED!” she screamed, waving her arms wildly in articulation.

“You’re the one that drove me to that Hermione! You completely shut me out after your miscarriage!” 

Hermione turned away and hunched over with her hands on her knees, shaking her head in disbelief, trying to catch her breath. It would do her no good to argue with him - he would never see the truth. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered to herself before standing and continuing towards her car. 

“We belong together Hermione - don’t deny it! You’ve always loved me and you were going to come crawling back to me sooner or later anyway!” he yelled at her back. “I was trying to be the bigger person here, Hermione -  I was trying to let you save a little bit of your pride but-”

Hermione spun back around, having heard enough. 

“Stop it, Ron! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP” she yelled, advancing on him until they were nose to nose, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Don’t you dare act like I’m some pitiful little weakling without you. And don’t you DARE pretend like the divorce was my fault!” 

Ron crossed his arms and lifted his jaw in defiance.

“If you hadn’t hated the idea of having children with me so much, then maybe-”

But Hermione had heard enough. With a guttural scream of anger, she reeled back her fist and punched him square in the nose, a satisfying crunch echoing down the alley. 

“FUCK!” Ron screeched, hands covering his nose as blood streamed down his face. “I think you broke my nose!” Hermione barked a laugh and shook her hand out, jumping up and down a bit as adrenaline pounded through her body. “I should have done that a long bloody time ago!” She crowed. “ Fuck, that felt good!” 

“Fuck you, Hermione!” Ron growled through gritted teeth. Hermione continued to shake out her hand while Ron tried to stop the blood flow with his shirt, bright red blood spatters landing on the pavement that sparkled with freshly fallen snow. 

It was snowing.  

A calm fury descended upon her, and she knew what she had to do. It was time to end this once and for all. 

“You know what Ron, I don’t know why you came here today - but since you’re here, let’s get a few things straight.” Ron looked at her with contempt and opened his mouth to talk over her, but she continued on anyway.

“You raped me, Ron - no , just shut up and listen,” she said coldly, her voice low with a mix of hatred and finality. “Don’t even try to pretend that the day our daughter was conceived you weren’t hate raping me. And you’re still blaming me for the miscarriage!” She huffed out an incredulous laugh and threw her hands into the air. “You are fucking unbelievable Ronald Weasley! To come all the way down here and try to ruin my Holiday - I don’t for one second believe you actually want to get back together - and act like I had some crazy nervous breakdown and now you’re here to swoop back in?! I would never - will never - come back to you. We do not belong together. We never belonged together, and just the fact that you thought I’d be begging to get back together just proves how little you know me.” Hermione shook her head and laughed humorlessly, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “You’re fucking insane. And since the divorce wasn’t straightforward enough for you - let me be perfectly clear. We are fucking done, Ron. This is over. I don’t want to see you - I don’t want to hear from you - Ever. Again.” 

Hermione stared Ron down until he gave one jerky nod, and she turned around to walk the last couple feet to her car, only to see Draco leaning casually against the boot, his face cast in shadow.

“Draco!” she exclaimed in surprise, a grin lighting her face. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to catch the show, love. I popped right over to rescue you when I got your text, but when I got here it was quite clear you didn’t need any rescuing.” He smiled widely and tugged her close before kissing her squarely on the lips. 

A strangled cry of shock sounded behind her. She turned around to see Ron standing a short distance away, a look of incredulous rage upon his face. 

“The bloke you’ve been seeing is Malfoy, Hermione? You’re fucking Draco Malfoy? Are you fucking kidding me?!” he raged. Hermione tensed and stepped towards him once more. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, Ron - but yes, I am fucking Draco Malfoy,” she smirked as Ron’s face contorted with disgust. 

“I can’t believe you’d stoop this low Hermione,” Ron growled and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground in front of her. “And to think -”

“I’d think really hard about what you say next, Weasley,” Draco interjected, stepping around Hermione with his wand drawn, twirling it between his fingers, barely controlled rage rolling off of him in waves. 

“Draco,” Hermione said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. She appreciated the sentiment but thought it best that a wizard’s duel not break out on a muggle street - whether it was a deserted alleyway or not. “Let’s just go. He’s not worth the trouble, honestly.” 

Draco didn’t move and the two men stared at each other for a long moment before Draco dropped his wand and gave her a jerky nod. 

“Okay, love,” he agreed, and they both turned towards the car once more. 

But unsurprisingly, Ron couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds, Malfoy - although I should warn you, she’s always been a frigid bitch so good luck with that,” he called out to them. 

Hermione tried to grab Draco’s arm to stop him but it was no use. Forgetting his wand completely, Draco strode over to Ron and pulled back his fist to hit him. Ron tried to duck and scurry backward, but Draco got ahold of his collar and held him steady.

One punch from Draco’s fist and Ron was down on the ground, holding his nose as he swore and panted, trying to breathe through the steady stream of blood pouring from his nose. Draco advanced on him and he made a pitiful attempt to roll away, but it was no good. Hermione watched on, her eyes wide and a hand clutching her mouth as Draco pushed Ron onto his back with a kick and put a booted foot on Ron’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground. He bent his knee and leaned all his weight onto Ron’s chest, making Ron gasp and sputter as he tried to suck air into his lungs. Draco glanced up at Hermione and met her eyes, checking in with her, his eyes liquid silver and full of a burning passion to protect her. 

Hermione had never felt so wanted; so intensely loved. She let her hands fall and nodded, a rather crazy smile lighting her lips at the turn the night had taken. Draco’s eyes dropped back down to Ron who had been fighting to get out from under his heel, but he simply pressed harder. 

“Weasley, Weasley, Weasley….” Draco drawled and shook his head patronizingly. “You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut. I could kill you right now, you know - I’m sure Hermione wouldn’t be too chuffed over it. ” Draco looked up at her and shot her a wink. “You know we would never be pinned to your murder - it’s not like anyone would ever find a body,” Draco laughed to himself as Ron thrashed against him, watching him with wide eyes. He looked wistfully up to the sky, as though he would like nothing more than to commit murder right then and there. 

“But it just so happens that I’m due presently for a date with your ex-wife, and I’d hate to be even more late for our dinner reservation than you've already made us. So I’ll tell you what - I’m going to let you go - on one condition,” Draco moved his foot up to Ron’s windpipe and pressed down, leaving Ron to kick and flail, trying to breathe in vain. “You will never come near Hermione again. Got it?” Ron nodded desperately and Draco removed his foot from his throat, leaving Ron to hack and cough, sucking in lungfuls of air. Draco dropped into a squat next to his face and grabbed his hair, forcing his head back so that he could look him in the eye. Ron continued to gasp and struggle, but Draco drew his wand and ran the tip of it along his throat. Ron stilled in terror, his eyes comically wide. 

“One letter, Weasley. One phone call. One visit. If I hear that you have contacted Hermione in any way - and believe me, I’ll know - I will find you, and I will kill you.” Draco whispered. “Am I being clear enough for that idiot brain of yours to comprehend?” 

Ron jerked his head in confirmation. 

“Good.” 

Draco stood up and brushed his hands off before striding over to Hermione’s car and opening the door for her. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, waiting as Draco buckled before pulling away from the curb. She glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see Ron hobbling further down the dark alley and apparating away. Draco reached over to take her right hand and she jumped, adrenaline still pounding through her veins. 

“Sorry, love - is your hand okay? You throw a mean right hook, so I’ve heard.”

“Hah - you mean you’ve felt my mean right hook” she laughed and he agreed, running his wand along her right hand as she drove, easing her aching muscles and joints. 

“You didn’t actually make reservations did you?” she asked as she pulled into the driveway of her cottage. Draco scoffed and unbuckled, eager to get her inside.

“Nope. Sounded good though, didn’t it?” he laughed and she giggled, pulling him up towards the house.

“Looked good too,” she commented while she unlocked the front door and dragged him inside before kicking it shut. 

“Yeah?” he followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom, watching her with hooded eyes as she peeled off her booties and tights. 

“That might have been the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Hermione sighed in pleasure as Draco pulled her dress over her head and ran his hands down her bare sides. "Let’s find someone else for you to beat and threaten tomorrow,” she said breathily, sitting on the edge of the bed and lying back as Draco slid down to his knees, placing kisses along her thigh and up to her center.

“That can be arranged,” he growled before peeling off her knickers and laving his tongue against her cunt softly. Hermione melted into the mattress and felt her whole body relax, finally at ease under the attention of his hands and lips. She enjoyed his tongue for a moment before pulling him up to the bed so she could look him in the eye. 

“Did you mean it?” she asked quietly, slowly unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. He ran a hand along her face and cupped her neck reassuringly, his face somber. 

“I’ve never been more serious, Hermione. Is that okay with you?” he asked, and Hermione nodded immediately, tears once more gathering in the corner of her eyes. 

“No one’s ever loved me like this, Draco,” she whispered. “It feels so surreal; like I must be crazy.” Draco slid over to her and took her in his arms. 

“If you’re crazy then so am I,” he murmured against her skin. Hermione nodded and met his lips in a searing kiss. “I was so proud of you tonight - standing up to him like that.” He swept a curl behind her ear and Hermione’s heart bloomed in her chest. 

She loved him so much - needed him so much - that it hurt. 

“It’s over. It’s finally over,” she said incredulously, feeling as though she had shed a skin that had been too tight and confining for far too long.

“Yes, it is, my love. Now what comes next?” he asked with a contented smile, simply basking in her presence. Hermione sat up and pushed his shirt off his shoulders before starting on his denims. 

“Well first, I think we should have sex,” she said matter-of-factly, and Draco barked a laugh. “And then after that, maybe something to eat, and then after that - world domination? Who knows?” Her laughter rang brightly and Draco pushed her onto her back, helping her snuggle beneath the covers before joining her. 

“Sounds like a plan, my dear,” he chuckled, snapping a finger and extinguishing the lights. 

The moon rose as they took their time relearning each other, sealing their future together with lips and hands and laughter. Hermione felt lighter than she ever had before, secure in the arms of the only man she’d ever felt truly at peace with. 

Home.  

Chapter Text

“It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald 

December 7 - 19th 

The high of finally severing the last vestiges of her relationship with Ron stayed with Hermione during the weeks leading up to Christmas like a burning flame that couldn’t be extinguished. She fell comfortably back into her daily routine with Draco and Scorpius, her bond with Draco even stronger than it had been before their argument over her novel. The time apart combined with their conflict resolution had transmuted their relationship into something more tangible than it had been before. In just under a week everything became far more real , and they both felt content in knowing that for now - at least - they wanted to be together. They spoke at length about Draco’s invasion of her privacy and Narcissa’s protectiveness, as well as the way Hermione’s worries had manifested in her work until they both felt at ease with moving forward. 

The entire thing was quickly becoming the healthiest, safest relationship either of them had ever been in, and it felt completely surreal to Hermione. That she should finally be gifted everything that she had ever wanted in a man so quickly after letting go of her traumatic past was mind-blowing. 

Her days over the next two weeks were filled with all the things she loved - freezing runs through the snow-smattered forest, hours spent by the fire editing her novel, Draco meeting her for lunch when he could or unexpectedly taking afternoons off when his schedule allowed. With a sense of serenity that she had never before encountered, Hermione sank comfortably into her new life without the worry of wondering when it may crash and burn. 

Their time with Scorpius after school and on the weekends was spent checking off items from another list he had insisted on creating - the idea now firmly solidified in his mind as the best way to enjoy the season. They decorated the cottage with Christmas lights almost entirely the muggle way, with only the tiniest bit of discreet wandless magic. A gingerbread house was also high on their list, and as they all pitched in to create the best gingerbread house ever, they drank hot cocoa with candy canes while Christmas music played merrily in the background. 

Throughout the days leading up to Christmas Hermione often caught herself feeling thoroughly festive, which was a startling difference compared to the depressed and bitter attitude that she normally adopted during the Holidays. Each time awareness of the transformation rose to her consciousness Hermione was filled with gratitude both towards her two boys, but also to herself for all the changes she’d made in her life in order to get better. 

If this was the result of her determination to let go of the past and recover, then it had all been worth it. 

***

Friday, December 20th - Saturday, December 21st

By the time the twentieth of December rolled around, Hermione felt as though the month had flown by. She found herself taking extra care as she got ready for Scorpius’ Kindergarten Christmas pageant, mentally preparing to see the elder Malfoy’s for the first time since the tea she had shared with Narcissa several weeks prior. While Draco wrangled Scorpius into an adorable navy suit and dress shoes, Hermione went to extra effort to style her hair into a sophisticated updo. After a lot of back and forth, she settled on one of her go-to outfits: dark blue denims and a black silk blouse with sheer long sleeves, paired with sleek black heels and burgundy lipstick. 

“Almost ready, hun?” Draco called as he ascended the stairs and found her hemming and hawing in the bathroom over what jewelry to wear. Draco stood in the doorway for a moment admiring her, and Hermione fussed with her hair for a moment longer before turning towards him with an anxious look. 

“Is this okay? Not dressy enough? I couldn’t decide on the hair and then the outfit and-” she threw her hands in the air and looked back at the mirror, fussing with the buttons at her cuffs. Draco chuckled and stepped close, turning her back towards him and running his hands soothingly down her arms and to her hips before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“It’s perfect, love. I even have a little something to go with it. Hold on a second.” He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a black box wrapped up with a golden bow. 

“Draco…” Hermione balked when he leaned a hip against the bathroom counter and slid the bow off the box. 

“It was going to be one of your Christmas gifts but it will be perfect for tonight. No fussing about it - just close your eyes for me.” 

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes obediently just in time to hear the pop of the box open behind her. She felt something cool and smooth slide around her throat and Draco’s hands fiddling with a clasp. It took him a moment of struggle and Hermione giggled at his grumble of frustration. Finally, he managed it and placed a kiss upon the shell of her ear. 

“Open up, love.”

Hermione gasped at the sight of the pearl drop necklace, studded on each side with sparkling diamonds. It was delicate and classic - exactly something she would have chosen herself. 

“It’s absolutely gorgeous Draco. But it’s too-” 

“Don’t you dare say it’s too much.” He reached around and pulled a matching bracelet from the box and began to fasten it around her wrist. “What’s the point of being as filthy rich as I am if I can’t-”

“Spoil your girlfriend?” she finished for him and she laughed while fastening the matching earrings. “I suppose it’s not as much as a car would have been, so…”

“Well, that kind of depends on the kind of car we’re talking about….” he drawled, and Hermione whipped around with raised eyebrows. 

“How expensive are we talking here?” she squeaked, but Draco just laughed and ignored her as he finished tying his tie, ushering her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

“A thank you would suffice,” he teased, and she whacked him with her clutch as he grabbed their coats from the hall closet. 

“Thank you , they’re beautiful.” she murmured when he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips after helping her with her coat. 

The elder Malfoys stepped out of the floo a few moments later, and Hermione steeled her nerves, unsure what kind of reception she should expect. As it turns out, she shouldn’t have worried. Narcissa greeted her with a hug and a brushed kiss on each cheek, a genuine smile on her face. Hermione glanced at Draco with a raised eyebrow when no one was looking, but he merely winked, silently letting her know that it was all taken care of . 

Narcissa complimented her on the beautiful pearls and turned to ask Draco if he had purchased them from so and so in Paris and hadn’t he meant to gift them to her at Christmas? Whatever would he give her now?! The comment seemed to be laced with some inside joke that Hermione wasn’t privy to, and Draco’s cheeks tinged pink. Narcissa shot Hermione a wink just as Draco groaned and pushed his mother gently towards the floo. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh along, secretly tickled by the report they had, even after all they had been through.

Scorpius did fabulously up on the stage, and Hermione enjoyed congratulating him after the performance was over, swinging him up into her arms for a hug. Just as she got him settled in her arms, she glanced up and just happened to catch Ms. Elizabeth scowling at her from across the auditorium. Hermione just smiled and waved before turning her attention back to the star in her arms, refusing to give the woman any more of her attention.

Even so, it was immensely satisfying. 

They returned to Draco’s house for a quick dessert, and as Narcissa was shrugging on her coat to head home she thoughtfully asked if Hermione had any Christmas plans - or would she like to join them in France for the holiday? Hermione was taken aback and her heart thudded painfully in her chest, a tear prickling the corner of her eye unexpectedly. Hastily clearing her throat, she thanked Narcissa for the invitation and would let her know after speaking with Draco. Narcissa nodded and affirmed that she would be most welcome while Lucius bumped her cheek with a goodbye kiss. They stepped through the floo and Hermione turned to Draco in surprise, thoroughly bewildered by the invitation. 

Maybe things would be okay with the Malfoys after all. 

Saturday passed marvelously with lots of lazing around in their pajamas and decorating the tree they’d picked up from the lot down the street. Hermione thought of her parents often as she created new traditions with her boys, remembering the Christmases she’d shared with them before life had turned upside down. Once Scorpius had been tucked into bed, she put on her mother’s favorite Christmas album and slow-danced with Draco in a glittering living room lit by the tree’s brightly colored fairy lights. She sank into his embrace and allowed a few tears to fall, while also fighting to hold the moment in her heart so that she’d never forget it. Another glimmer of hopefulness ignited in her spirit as her sorrow ran dry with her tears. Perhaps this would simply be the first of many nights they would dance beside a beautiful, luminous Christmas tree.

Later that night they did finally speak of their Christmas plans whilst curled in bed, and when Draco whispered to her hopefully  - won’t you please spend Christmas with us, Hermione? - as he ran a hand through her curls and kissed the back of her neck, she couldn’t help the contented smile that crossed her face. 

I’d love to, Draco.   

***

Sunday, December 22nd

Hermione had just slipped off her apron when the floo-bell rang through the living room, letting them know that their dinner guests would soon be stepping through. Chico barked excitedly and made his laps around the living room, happily alerting his humans that something was happening. Scorpius ran in from the back yard and took charge of Chico just as Draco descended the stairs, shrugging on a button-down. Hermione admired his shirtless chest, his hands, the way he looked in muggle clothes ….she still couldn’t quite get over it. She quickly slipped on her pumps and straightened, finishing Draco’s last few buttons and breathing deeply in an effort to slow her racing heart.

“Aren't I the one who’s meant to be nervous?” he teased, and Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. 

“I know! I honestly don’t know what’s come over me,” she stage whispered just as they heard the whoosh of the floo firing up. 

Hermione had been excited all day that Harry and Ginny would be coming for dinner, but in the hour leading up to their arrival, she’d become a tangle of nerves. Despite having recently seen Ginny in London, it was the first time she would be seeing them both together since her divorce. Not only was she with another man - but she was seeing Draco effing Malfoy for Merlin’s sake! Once in awhile it still blew her mind that she was now in a serious relationship with the boy she had punched in the face when they were thirteen. The boy that had taken the dark mark at sixteen. Harry’s arch-nemesis! 

Well, maybe arch-nemesis  was a bit strong, but they had certainly been enemies. It was so strange that that boy had become her person .

After their run-in with Ron Hermione had sent them a letter, nonchalantly informing them that the man she’d been seeing was Draco Malfoy, and would they like to come to dinner to officially be reintroduced? It had seemed like the best way to get ahead of whatever Ron may have told them, and it was certainly the next obvious step to take in their relationship. Ginny had sent a Howler forthwith that had been half-angry-tirade at being kept in the dark for so long, and half swooning-fangirl that Hermione had landed such someone so effing hot. Harry could be heard in the background urging Ginny to please behave yourself , and Ginny finished by telling her that of course, they would come to dinner .

It was just Hermione’s luck that Draco had been in the room when the howler exploded, and the prat had been impossible about the whole thing ever since. He may not have been the same egotistical twit that he’d been at thirteen, but he certainly had his moments. 

Ginny was the first to step through the floo and greeted Hermione with a firm hug before moving on to Draco, who offered a hand to shake. Ginny batted it away with a laugh, brought him into a friendly embrace and bumped his cheek with hers. Harry stepped through a moment later, and although he seemed to be on his guard, he was polite as he shook Draco’s hand and readily accepted Hermione’s offer of a drink, following her quickly into the kitchen. 

To no one’s surprise, the couple was immediately smitten with both Scorpius and with Chico - whom they were appalled to learn belonged not to Draco, but to Hermione. Who are you and what have you done to Hermione Granger? What would Crooks say? ! Harry teased, and Hermione sniffed indignantly. People change, Harry! Ginny leaned over the table to look Draco up and down before looking back to Hermione. Yes, they do - and thank Merlin for that! Draco choked out a laugh and Hermione smacked her sister lightly on the arm, scolding her over Harry’s groan. It was just the icebreaker the group needed, and conversation flowed much easier than Hermione had expected. 

Much, much easier. Hermione began to worry that her longtime friends may take the opportunity to embarrass her, but she made it through dinner unscathed. Unfortunately, Ginny had just been lulling her into a false sense of security. The second Scorpius left the room to go play, Ginny set her glass down and fixed Draco with an intense look. 

“Let’s see those teeth, Malfoy,” she demanded, and Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. 

“What ? You want to see my teeth?” Draco asked in confusion.

“Ya, your teeth . Open up, we want to see them.”

Hermione slid down in her chair, wishing that she could just sink into the floor and disappear. 

“This is getting weird…. but alright I guess,” and he bared his teeth for Harry and Ginny to take a look. The couple immediately began to crow, and Hermione reached for the wine bottle, filling her glass all the way up to the brim. Draco looked around at them all, completely in the dark. 

“Okay - someone has to fill me in, here.” 

“So he doesn’t know this about you yet, huh Granger?” Ginny asked in between her giggles, and Hermione shook her head as she took another large gulp of her wine.

“Know what?” Draco demanded over the sound of Harry’s guffaws. 

“Okay Malfoy - here’s the thing. Our Hermione here has what we like to call a teeth-kink .” Ginny said in a sing-song voice, and Draco looked back and forth between Ginny and Hermione with raised eyebrows, a little smirk crossing his lips. 

“A teeth-kink , huh?” He bared his teeth for her with a wink and Hermione groaned again, sending Harry into another round of laughter. Hermione mumbled something under her breath about how my parents were dentists, okay?! But no one paid her any mind. 

“Yup. First there was Lockheart -” 

“Lockheart?! You had a crush on effing Lockheart?!” Draco rounded on Hermione and Ginny wrinkled her nose. 

“I know right? And then there was Krum, Cormac, and then yourself of course-”

Hermione’s hands flew to the table and she slammed them down, glaring at her sister-in-law. 

“Ginny! SHUT. UP!” Draco turned slowly around to her again, his eyebrows raised as high as they’d go, glee slowly spreading across his features. Hermione gestured to him and then looked back at Ginny. 

“Do you see , Weasley? Do you see what you’ve just done?!” 

Ginny just laughed and drank the last of her wine, reaching for the bottle to pour herself some more. 

“You had a crush on me back at Hogwarts?” Draco crowed and Hermione shook her head. 

“No no no - I did not have a crush on you, Draco Malfoy! I just happened to comment once or twice that despite how much of a prat you were, you just happened to have nice teeth -” 

“Oh please, Mione, once or twice? Try every day for most of our fifth year!” Harry interjected.

“Oh, my MERLIN - it was NOT EVERY DAY!” Hermione argued. Draco slid a hand down his face and shook his head, his lips still curled in a gleeful smile. 

“To be fair, I do have fantastic teeth.” Hermione slumped forward onto the table and pretended to beat her head against it. Draco reached out to her and rubbed her back softly, smoothing her hair back away from her face and prodding her to look at him. 

“But also, you might be interested to know that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you that year either,” his eyes boring into hers meaningfully. Hermione shot up in surprise.

“Really ? You’re not just saying that?” she asked, nearly breathless. Draco scoffed. 

“Are you kidding? You came back from the summer holiday that year with these great tits and I finally realized how hot you were. My friends all got sick of me complaining about you that year.” Draco shook his head fondly and Hermione slid her chair over to his and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him down to kiss him soundly. Harry started choking and Ginny groaned. 

“Okay lovebirds - you’ve got company, you know!” Ginny complained, and Hermione grinned against Draco’s lips before deepening the kiss. Time for some payback.

***

It was an hour or so later that Hermione slipped out the back door to join Harry, who had begged off for a smoke a few moments before. 

“Hey,” she said, sidling up beside him and propping herself against the railing of the porch. He nodded in greeting and offered her a cigarette. She took it gratefully and leaned towards him, watching his hands as he strummed his thumb over the spark wheel of his lighter. He held the flame up to her, cupping his other hand around it to block the wind. Hermione was immediately taken back to all the nights they’d sat around a little bluebell fire together, smoking and taking turns keeping watch through the night, his hands mindlessly playing with the same zippo - an old gift from Sirius. 

A lot had changed - but some things never did . 

They stood in comfortable silence for a few long moments before Harry looked over at her with a kind smile. 

“When you sent us that letter I honestly had no idea what to expect.” He paused and took another inhale before flicking ash out onto the lawn. “Ginny told me a bit about what you’d said when you saw each other in London but I wasn’t convinced. I came ready for a fight, but in less than five minutes I realized there was no need for one.” They both laughed and Hermione shook her head. 

“I wondered if you were going to waltz in, wand blazing....” Harry chuckled and shook his head. 

“Ginny made me promise to withhold action unless there was probable cause.”

“That sounds about right,” Hermione smiled and laughed, but it petered out and she felt Harry’s shoulders tense as though he was gearing up to say something. With a sideways glance, she watched him scrub a hand over his face. 

“So…..Ron left for New York the same day we got your letter about Draco. He’s gone to open up a new storefront there; he and George have been planning to expand for a while now.” 

Hermione looked straight ahead and took another drag from her cigarette, wondering if Harry had put two and two together and if he was going to chew her out about it.  

“He showed up to our flat with two nasty black eyes, and the decision to leave for New York seemed really sudden. When we questioned him, he wouldn’t say much in explanation - just asked Ginny to fix him up. You know he’s always been shit at healing charms.” Harry laughed derisively and Hermione nodded but continued to look straight ahead, pressure building in her chest. 

“We got your letter just a few hours later and it seemed like too much of a coincidence. Did Ron make an appearance up here?” he asked, watching her closely. Her breath swooshed out of her lungs and she jerked her head, confirming his suspicions. Harry immediately swore, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out angrily. He pushed away from the porch railing and began to pace, a dark scowl marring his features. 

It had been a very long time since she had seen that look on his face. 

“Fuck , Hermione.... He’d mentioned wanting to find you a few times and I told him to back the fuck off. It seemed like he eventually dropped it but I guess he didn’t. I’m so sorry I didn’t stop him.” He stopped short in front of her and scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration, looking at her with concern. She met his eyes and the bubble of pressure in her chest burst and she found herself chuckling softly. 

Harry was on her side. He often had been, but not always. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, and she’d been afraid this would be one of those times. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and Hermione covered her mouth as the chuckle turned into a full-blown cackle, tears pricking her lids, relief flooding through her. 

“This is funny to you?” Harry asked incredulously and Hermione shook her head, waving a hand as she tried to calm her frayed nerves. A vision of Harry and Ron at eleven years old, heading out into the castle at midnight, determined to meet Draco for a wizard’s duel rose to the front of her mind. 

“No-” she gasped, clutching her side. “No, it’s really not ; I was just remembering what you two were like at Hogwarts together. No one could ever talk you guys out of a bad idea.” With a deep breath, her giggles finally petered out and plopped down onto the porch swing. Harry snorted and nodded in concession. 

“Guess we’re both pretty big idiots, huh?” he said, his tone still angry with a touch of bitterness. He sank down next to her and tucked her under his arm, gripping her shoulder tight. She leaned into him and rested her head on his chest, feeling like a hidden weight had finally left her. 

“At least you grew out of it,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Did I ?” he protested, and Hermione sat back up to look him in the eye, catching a glimpse of the guilt he often carried rearing its ugly head.  

“There’s nothing you could have done to dissuade him, Harry. Nothing . He made his own choices, and I made mine. This isn’t your fault.”

Harry nodded and took a stuttering breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Did he hurt you?” he finally asked in a whisper, his hand finding hers and gripping it tight. 

“He has in the past,” she confirmed softly, and Harry’s eyes flew open, tears gathering in his lids. “ But he didn’t this time. This time he got the worst of it - from me, and then from Draco. He won’t be bothering me anymore.” 

Harry nodded and sniffed, clearing his throat. “Good. I just wish-” 

“No, Harry…. no .” she shook her head and smiled kindly, running her hand up and down his arm. “This wasn’t your fault. None of it was. No one knew what was really going on between Ron and I during the end of our marriage, and his mistakes are not your responsibility to apologize for.”

“But I should have known at least that-” 

“But how? How could you have known, Harry?” Hermione shook her head and brushed a tear away that had run silently down her cheek. “This wasn’t anyone else’s responsibility but my own. The only way you could have known is if I’d told you, and I didn’t. I was so afraid that people wouldn’t believe me…. “ she trailed off, trying to gather her words. “I pulled away instead of going to you for help, and that’s not your fault. I didn’t know what to do so I just ignored it. Talking about it would have made it real before I was ready to deal with it, you know?”

Tears began to rush down her cheeks in earnest and Harry’s eyes were far from dry as he gathered her up into his arms. 

“Ya, I know,” he murmured, and Hermione sank into the hug, feeling as though she were finally coming home after an extremely long, terrible day. 

“Just tell me one thing, Mione. Are you happy?” he pulled back and looked in her eyes, and Hermione’s face lit up in a dazzling - albeit watery - smile.

“Happier than I’ve ever been, Harry.” 

***

Before long the Potters were donning their coats, and a very sleepy Scorpius was cradled in Hermione’s arms yawning as he said his goodbye’s. Ginny kindly suggested they plan a playdate for Scorpius, James, and Albus once the holidays were over, and as she leaned in to give Hermione and Scorpius a hug she whispered in Hermione’s ear - good job with this one, Mione; seriously. He is SO. HOT. - mouthing the last words and gesturing lewdly. They both erupted into girlish giggles and the boys looked over at them suspiciously. 

“What?” Ginny asked with a feigned look of innocence before giving Draco a friendly peck on the cheek. “Thanks for taking care of our girl, Draco.” 

“Thanks for having us, Malfoy,” Harry seconded, reaching out a hand.

“Finally ready to shake my hand, Potter? Took you long enough,” Draco quipped, and everyone laughed. 

“Better late than never, right? Have a good Christmas, Mione. You too, Scorp.” he said, giving them both a hug and ruffling Scorpius’ hair affectionately. 

“Thanks, Harry,” a happy smile easily falling across her lips. 

The Potters whirled away in a haze of green smoke and Hermione tucked Scorpius into bed, feeling as though another part of her life had finally clicked into place. 

***

“So are we finally going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Hermione asked, giving Draco a pointed look as she crawled into bed later that night. 

“Which one?” He asked with a strained laugh, worrying that she had somehow caught wind of what he and Ginny had spoken of while she was on the porch with Harry. “Wait - are you finally going to let me buy you a new car?” he asked excitedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation and smacked him with the paperback she’d picked up from her bedside table. 

“No, Draco .” 

“The Potters hated me?” he guessed with a grimace. Hermione softened and leaned over to where he sat with his back against the headboard to leave a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“They loved you, darling,” she assured him. 

“Okay, then just tell me,” he whined childishly. Hermione snickered and pulled out a letter she had found earlier that day, shaking it open with a smirk on her face. Draco knew what it was immediately and grimaced. 

“Draco, darling, ” Hermione read aloud. “ I’m going to assume that you’ve been either wrongfully imprisoned - oh, who are we kidding, rightfully imprisoned - or one of those daft blonds has finally done you in, because those are the only two plausible reasons for why you haven’t responded to my last two letters .” 

Hermione stopped reading and glanced over the top of the letter with one eyebrow raised. Draco flopped back against the headboard and covered his face with a grown as Hermione read on. 

“Last week during tea with your Mother, she had the decency to inform me that you’ve been seeing someone for several months now. I told her that she must be mistaken - because I know you would never  are turn your best friend over for something as trite as a good lay - or intentionally not inform me of your first serious relationship since Story?! Don’t even bother trying to get out of our annual New Year’s party - I’ve already invited everyone over to your place. Give my love to Scorp, Pansy. ”

Hermione fell silent and laid the letter on the bed, waiting patiently for Draco to respond.

“Will it help that I did plan on talking with you about this?” Draco asked sheepishly. “And what were you doing going through my desk anyway?” he huffed, crossing his arms and shooting a childish glare over at her as she began rubbing lotion onto her bare legs. 

“I was getting some paper for Scorpius to color on if you must know, you prat! And it was sitting right on top of the desk! It’s not as if I had to shuffle through anything to see it,” she rolled her eyes. “And don’t change the subject. Should I be expecting an irate Pansy Parkinson to emerge from the floo at any moment because you’ve been ignoring her, or are you going to have a chat with her about us? And what’s this about a party?” 

Draco groaned and flopped over sideways, pushing his face into the comforter and nuzzling into her hip bone. Hermione laughed as he mumbled something unintelligibly. 

“Hm? Draco!” She swatted at him as he tried to pull her down to the bed. After a moment he gave up and turned onto his back. 

“Okay fine...we have a muggle themed New Year’s party here every year - it’s become a bit of a tradition since my divorce. I was hoping to avoid it this year because I wanted to have a quiet New Years with just the two of us,” he raised an eyebrow pointedly, “but it seems that Pansy’s gone and ruined my plans,” he pouted, expecting her to scold him, but she simply hmmed and began filing her nails, thinking quietly. Draco could practically hear the gears turning in her head

“Did you really just want a quiet night to ourselves, or are your friends going to have a problem with me? Is that why you didn’t want to have the party?” she finally murmured quietly, waiting with bated breath for his answer. Draco sat up in surprise, completely taken off guard. 

“Oh, love - that’s not it at all!” Draco grabbed the nail file out of her hand, and when she still wouldn’t look at him he reached over and cupped her face, forcing her head up. Hermione continued to look down, unwilling to meet his eyes. 

“Hermione, won’t you look at me?” he implored. Finally, she looked up into his silver-grey eyes, her breath catching in her chest at the fire she saw behind his irises. 

“I will never be ashamed of you, Hermione Granger. Even if my friends would have a problem with you - which they won’ t - it wouldn’t matter to me. I think I’ve waited for the same reason you did with the Potters. I just haven’t wanted to share you with anyone else.” he leaned in and captured her lips for a moment before pulling away, meeting her eyes. “The real problem is that everyone is going to love you so much that we’re never going to get another moment’s peace around here,” he laughed and Hermione giggled in relief that he wasn’t concerned about formally introducing her to his friends. She pushed him down and straddled his hips, meeting his lips in a heated kiss.

“Well let’s make a deal then,” she murmured, running her lips along the underside of his jaw and down to his chest, sliding her hands down his bare sides and into the waist of his low-slung pajama pants. “For every time that one of us gets…. distracted... by one of our friends, we then owe the other a favor.” Draco groaned as she rocked against him, and Hermione smirked. 

“I like the sound of that,” Draco eagerly agreed grabbing her hips and flipping her onto her back in one fluid movement, and Hermione squealed in surprise. 

“Okay then, it’s a deal. Why do I feel like I may already be regretting this?” she wondered. Draco chuckled darkly as he slid his hands underneath her pajama top and trailed kisses along her hip bone.

“You have no idea what you just got yourself into, Granger,” he smirked and yanked her pants and knickers off in one pull, his mind already whirling with how he was going to cash in all the favors that would soon be coming his way.

***

Tuesday, December 24th - Christmas Eve

Hermione sighed and curled her feet up underneath her, snuggling into the velvet chaise that sat at the foot of the glorious floor to ceiling windows at the Malfoy’s Parisian Chateau. She sipped deeply from the warm cuppa that had just been delivered to her and gazed at the towering Christmas tree that stood in the window, grateful for a little time alone to unwind.

The trip thus far had been a dream, and Hermione found herself enjoying not only the company but also the luxury that the elder Malfoys wrapped themselves in. It was quite the change from what she was used to, and although she certainly wasn’t with Draco for his money - it did have its perks. Lucius had proved himself to be just as funny as Hermione had initially suspected, and Narcissa had welcomed her warmly into their Christmas family traditions. It was so different from any of her previous holiday memories that she found herself thinking much less of her past than she had expected to as they drew closer to Christmas Day. 

The elder Malfoys had retreated to bed sometime earlier that evening, and Draco had gone to tuck Scorpius back in after he had awoken, demanding a glass of water. It was nearing 45 minutes since Draco’s departure, but Hermione didn’t mind in the slightest. The fire cast a warm and cozy glow across the family room, and the giant windows framed a marvelous, snowy mountainside view. The little town below winked and glinted up at her, and she was enjoying the aroma of fresh pine, taking in the peace and quiet while she waited for Draco to return. 

At last, Draco appeared and slipped down beside her on the chaise, wrapping his arms around her middle and laying his head on her breast. Hermione hmmed contentedly and combed her fingers through his hair, trailing them comfortingly along his forehead. 

“I’m knackered,” he said sleepily as his eyes drifted closed. Hermione hmmed once more and trailed her fingers down along his arm and back up to his face, lightly tracing his lips and nose. 

“Well if you think you can rally, I thought I might give you one of your Christmas presents a day early. It requires a certain amount of privacy , you see,” she hinted in a teasing whisper. Draco’s eyes shot open.

“I’m not that tired,” he said with a grin, and Hermione chuckled. 

“Okay, good. Then I’ll see you in bed in about 15.” She slithered out from under him and sauntered to the door, throwing him a wink over her shoulder before heading down the hall. 

***

Hermione took her time getting ready, excited to be dressing up for Draco for the very first time. After using one of her favorite magical lotions that bronzed her skin and left her with a sparkling glow, she applied some makeup; a little mascara, pink blush and shimmery lip gloss. She heard Draco quietly enter the room, and with a wave of her wand her hair braided itself loosely to the side and swept up into a beautiful cascading ponytail, her curls falling over her shoulder.

Finally, she slipped into the extravagant bodysuit that she’d purchased especially for this occasion - the sheer red material molded perfectly to her curves. It was embroidered with delicate white floral appliques and had just the barest hint of a cap sleeve, with a low swooping back that curved into a thong, leaving little to the imagination. She shrugged on the accompanying sheer, floor-length kimono and a pair of delicate red stilettos before pausing to look at herself in the mirror, wondering if she’d ever felt more beautiful or alluring.

Hermione slipped out of the bathroom and was greeted with the soft light of a hundred floating candles. Draco sat across the room in front of the fireplace, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his forearms and a glass of amber liquid in his hand. She lingered in the doorway, sipping from the glass of wine that he’d left for her, admiring him from a distance. The gentle slope of his shoulders, the strong line of his jaw, his masterful hands. Heat pooled in her belly and warmth curled in her chest as she stepped into the room and propped herself against the low dresser in what she hoped to be a sultry pose. 

“Are you ready to unwrap your present, love?” she called softly to him, her heart in her throat. Draco stood and turned around, stopping short when he saw her. He set his whiskey glass down with a clunk and glided towards her, his eyes dark with want. In only a moment she was in his arms, his hands cupping her face and digging into her messy curls, his lips urgently drinking her in. 

“You like it?” Hermione teased when they came up for air, gasping and grinning like fools. 

“That’s one way to put it,” he growled right before he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder. She shrieked in surprise and Draco tossed her onto the bed before crawling over her, caging her in with his body. His lips and tongue left her breathless and she groaned as he gripped one of her hips, dragging her up so that their bodies were flush against one another. He rocked himself against her core and she broke away from his lips, pressing her face into his neck, panting wantonly. He had just begun to trail kisses along the hollow of her throat and down to her collar bone when she wiggled out from under him with a sly grin, pushing against his shoulder.

“You are wearing way too much clothing for this, Malfoy.” 

He huffed a laugh and smacked at her arse as she slid away and off the bed to kneel at his feet. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked down at her with hooded lids and a lazy smile as she unlaced his oxfords and playfully tossed them over her shoulder. At last, she took a tall knee and undid his belt painstakingly slow, loving the way his eyes danced over her face, her tits, her hands - as though he wanted to memorize her. Draco tugged at the end of her braid as she unzipped his trousers and shimmied them down to his ankles and off his feet before pressing feather-light kisses to his calf, the inside of his knee, his inner thigh. Hermione smirked when she heard his breath catch and she slipped his pants down, palming his cock for only a second before pulling him salaciously into her hot mouth. 

“Fuck, Hermione,” he swore as she ran her tongue over his length and sucked on him slowly, almost leisurely pulling him in and out of her mouth, saliva pooling at the corner of her lips and dripping obscenely down her chest. A low moan rumbled in the back of her throat and her breath caught as desire flooded her, her patience falling away in the wake of her need to have more of him inside of her. She reached up and tugged at his hands and Draco was quick to oblige, feeling equally desperate. He tore his shirt over his head before gripping the back of her neck and pushing even further into her mouth, almost painfully entering her throat. Her eyes teared up at the intrusion but she couldn’t hold back the cry of pleasure that left her, and she swallowed him down as he pushed even further inside of her, almost bypassing what she thought he could stand. 

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured as he fucked her mouth, and Hermione keened as one of his hands plucked at an aching nipple and the held onto her throat, his thumb pushing just so against her pulse point. She knew inherently as her mind faded to black that she was totally and completely done for . 

This was it for her; Draco had wrecked her for anyone else. 

Time slipped away as she sunk into the feel of his hands and the heat that swept through her body, flashes sticking in her mind in a way she would never forget. The way he dragged her up to the bed and adoringly pushed the kimono from her shoulders, his hands trailing along the intricate patterns of the lace on her bodice, his thumbs pressing into her hip bones and tugging her close, his tongue laving over her body in long strokes. She would never forget the way his hands clutched her rib cage so tightly that she nearly couldn’t breathe - but even as he slipped inside her, she still didn’t feel close enough. The way they moved against each other slowly with eyes wide open, the intensity of emotion passing between them otherworldly. The candles that hovered above them burned low and cast deep shadows across the room that wrapped them up as if they were in a dream. 

Hermione swelled high and swept low; swelled again and fell harder still, coming apart at the seams as if she had been turned inside out. Their mouths clashed against each other in desperation to get closer - they were connected in every possible way, but it still wasn’t enough - and tears gathered on her lashes as her heart burst into a million pieces and scattered away. Her name fell from his lips and they clung tighter still as their heartbeats slowed, more tears falling from her eyes as she buried her face in his chest. I’ve got you , he whispered softly into her hair, pulling the covers up over them and wrapping her tight. She felt herself drift away for a time before coming up for air and back into reality to the gentle motion of Draco’s hand on her back. 

She turned in his arms and met his lips in a sweet kiss, vowing to hold the moment in her heart forever. 

***

It was well past midnight by the time Hermione roused enough to slip some pajamas on and deal with the mess her hair had become while Draco called a house elf for a late-night snack. A tray of leftovers was settled onto the bed between them and they munched as they idly chatted about their plans to return home the day after next. 

“I really need to start looking for a place,” Hermione bemoaned. “I have to be out of the cottage by New Year’s Eve, which is only a few days away.” She sighed and flopped back onto her pillows, not looking forward to hunting for a new apartment. 

“Or you could…. not start looking,” Draco suggested slowly as if he was testing out the feel of the words in his mouth as he said them. He took an overly large bite of biscuit and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Hermione sat back up and looked at him in surprise.

“Are you asking me to move in?” she wondered with a half-smile quirking her lips up at the corner. Draco tilted his head and cracked his neck, biding his time as he thought through his response. After an agonizingly long moment, he clapped his hands together and jumped out of bed.

“You know what, fuck it . I AM asking you to move in, but hold on a mo-” he said as he disappeared into their walk-in closet. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to offer, Draco. I know I’ve been over a lot lately but if you and Scorp need more space I totally understand.” Draco returned from the closet with one hand behind his back and Hermione looked on in confusion at the nervous grin on his face. He moved the snack tray off the bed and sat in the middle facing her, one hand still tucked behind himself. 

“I never planned to do this like this - but I don’t want to wait any longer.” He bit his lip and his eyes grew serious as he pulled his arm from behind his back to reveal a black velvet ring box. Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as tears began to fall down her cheeks in earnest. Her eyes flew back and forth between his and the box, her heart in her throat. 

“I know you said you weren't one hundred percent sure about me - about us - and I know we haven’t talked about this - but that didn’t stop me from buying this ring a few weeks ago or carrying it around in my pocket, waiting for the right moment. I had some extravagant ideas but none of them felt like us. This right here, this feels like us.” Draco grinned and shook his head and a watery laugh fell from Hermione’s lips as she nodded in agreement, understanding exactly what he meant. “Whether or not you’re sure - I’m sure enough for the both of us. I can’t imagine any other woman loving Scorpius or I as well as you do.” A soft sob fell from Hermione’s lips and Draco reached over to brush her tears with his thumbs before pulling her over to the end of the bed and kneeling in front of her. He gripped her hands in his and kissed her fingers firmly before he popped open the box to reveal a glimmering diamond ring nestled within. 

“We haven’t been together very long, but it’s been more than enough time for me to know that I want to spend my life with you, Hermione. Will you marry me?”

Draco barely got the words out before she launched herself at him and met his lips in a fierce kiss. 

“Is that a yes?” he teased in between her kisses and she laughed, nodding. 

“Yes, you prat!” She tugged him close and cupped her hands around his face, meeting his eyes and brushing her nose against his. “And I’m sure Draco. I may not have been before - but I am now.” Draco beamed as she offered him her hand, and he slipped the ring onto her finger before kissing her soundly once more. 

***

Wednesday, December 25th - Monday, December 30th 

The newly engaged couple had only got a few hours of sleep before Scorpius came bounding into their bed in the early hours of the morning, demanding that it’s time to wake up! Before he could bound away Draco grabbed him and tucked him under the covers between them, telling him gently that they had something to talk about. The precocious five-year-old didn’t quite understand what getting married meant, but when he realized it meant that Hermione would be theirs - and forever at that - he was fully on board. 

They were just about to get up and head to breakfast when Scorpius crawled into Hermione’s lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and shyly asking in the tiniest voice - does this mean I get to start calling you mum, Mione?

Her heart exploded into a million pieces and she looked to Draco with more tears gathering in her eyes. He looked close to tears himself, and so she just hugged him closer, assuring that if he wanted to, she would love it if he called her mum. 

And that, as they say, was that . 

***

It quickly became clear after their announcement at breakfast on Christmas morning that Narcissa was almost more excited about their engagement than they were. It dawned upon Hermione later that day that Narcissa must have known about the ring, remembering the way she had teased Draco after Scorpius’ Christmas pageant. Wait, who else knew about this? She demanded of him, and Draco laughed. Ginny guessed that night they came over- that’s what we were talking about while you and Potter were outside. I was so worried she was going to give it away. Did you have any idea? Hermione shook her head and assured him his proposal had been a complete surprise. 

It hadn’t been extravagant or planned like many girls would have preferred, but to Hermione, it had been perfect. 

Hermione’s last shred of worry over being accepted into the Malfoy family was dissolved during their remaining days at their Parisian estate, and she felt as if she was in a dream, passing through Christmastime surrounded by people that cared about her. They had a snowball fight out on the celestial snow-covered grounds; they took over the kitchens and made sugar cookies; they cuddled up on the sofa by the Christmas tree and read Scorpius’ favorite Christmas books as he fell asleep, and Hermione’s heart felt exceedingly grateful. 

On the Friday after Christmas, they returned home to the Cotswolds and the very next day they set about making some more permanent space for Hermione. The closet was expanded and her desk was set up in a cozy nook just off the kitchen. They added bookshelves in the living room and the bedroom to accommodate her collection, of course, and Hermione dug out the Boss Bitch list from her journal and conjured a frame, hanging it above their dresser. 

It had given her so much, and she never wanted to forget it.

The irony that Draco had been carrying a ring around in his pocket and trying to plan an elaborate proposal at the same time that Hermione had been worrying that their relationship would expire alongside her lease was not lost on them. While Scorpius napped they finished unpacking her clothes into the closet and flopped onto the bed fully clothed, laughing as they tried to top each other with more and more outrageous magically themed proposals. They fell asleep for a few minutes just as the afternoon sun began to wane, Hermione tucked safely against Draco’s chest, his hand on her hip. She woke to a tiny body curling up in front of her and pulled him close, placing a kiss on the side of his head, thinking that if she could stay like this forever - she would. 

***

That evening they packed up the last of Hermione’s things at her rental cottage, and while Draco apparated a few of her bags back to their house, Hermione took a seat on the front stoop. She hugged her arms around herself, shivering in the chill as she looked out at the winding country lane, now dusted with snow where it had once been covered in brightly colored leaves. The surrounding hills were already black in the quickly fading light, the purple-silver heather-covered fields long since buried for winter. Despite how different the landscape looked from when she had first arrived, she could still picture it as though it were yesterday: the hills dancing and sparkling as the sun rose, the heather winking back at her in the wind, the orange of the blinding sunrise coming up over the hills. 

It had been an unforgettable moment of clarity. 

She had sat on that very stoop, riddled with sorrow and uncertainty, loathe to return to her London flat but frozen in indecision about staying in such a foreign place. She had been afraid to forget, afraid to move on, afraid to feel . She vividly remembered being frozen, convinced that everywhere she turned would simply be another dead end. 

But just as the sun had risen that glorious fall morning, filling her with the promise of a new future; she watched the last rays of light disappear below the winter hills and felt the biting wind on her cheeks. Her season of mourning in solitude was over now, and tears slipped down her cheeks in overwhelming gratitude for everything it had brought to her. 

A pop of apparition sounded from within the cottage and Draco appeared on the stoop, taking a seat next to her and lifting his arm to her shoulders as she slid closer. Hermione laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed deep - slow and even - and said her last goodbye to the place that had remade her. 

After one last look through the house to make sure nothing had been forgotten, she turned off the lights with a snap and popped away.

***

Tuesday, December 31 - New Years Eve

“So I show up to her door and she is pissed -   and I mean pissed out of her effing mind- ”

“DRACO! DON’T YOU DARE TELL THIS STORY!” Hermione screeched from the kitchen, but the damage was already done. Draco had a bunch of their guests - including her traitorous EX -best friend Harry Potter - nearly rolling on the ground laughing as he regaled them with the story of their first date. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Granger,” Pansy said with the type of smirk that only a Slytherin could pull off tugging at her lips. Hermione simply rolled her eyes and chuckled. 

“You don’t know the half of it, Parkinson.” 

Draco had been right - she and pansy got on quite well from the start, and though some of the other Slytherins had seemed uneasy at first, re-introductions had gone smashingly. Hermione had been shocked when not only Harry and Ginny appeared, but also a whole slew of other Gryffindors that she hadn’t seen in years. She quickly realized that Pansy must have invited them last minute after hearing about the engagement, and was touched at such a show of acceptance. Pansy waved a dismissive hand when Hermione thanked her for her thoughtfulness. It’s nothing Granger , she had remarked in passing before turning back and adding as an afterthought: it’s good to have a fresh start, isn't it? Laughter rang through the house and children ran amok, and their home felt wonderfully full. Hermione could not imagine a better way to end such a simultaneously dreadful yet amazingly wonderful year, and she nodded back in wholehearted agreement. It’s wonderful, Pansy. 

As midnight drew near Hermione felt a tugging in her chest. She stepped out on the porch and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath and popped away, landing with unsteady feet next to Rose’s memorial. Tears welled up in her eyes for a moment and she let them fall, but the sadness was not the gulf that it once had been. She sank down to a crouch and laid her hand on the tree trunk, startled when a pop sounded behind her. 

“How’d I know you’d be here?” Draco said sweetly as Scorpius rushed up behind her and knocked her over into the snow. Hermione laughed and squeezed him to her for a moment before standing up and dusting herself off, glad for the company. 

“Couldn’t let midnight pass by without giving my fiance a New Year's kiss, now could I?” he asked as he pulled her close, Scorpius wiggling in between their legs. Draco cupped her cheek and kissed her soundly for a moment before Hermione acquiesced to Scorp’s tugging on her coat and lifted him into her arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Love you, Dad,” he said. “Love you, Mum.” Hermione’s heart nearly exploded in her chest and a few more tears clung to her lids as she looked over his shoulder to Draco, who’s face looked exactly how she felt. 

Overwhelmed and oh so in love .

“I love you too, Scorp,” Hermione murmured into his hair. 

“Love you, bud,” Draco whispered as he wrapped them both into his arms. Scorpius yawned loudly and the adults followed suit, chuckling. 

“Is it time for bed yet?” he asked with a whine, letting his eyes drift closed. 

“Ya Hermione; is it time for bed yet?” Draco asked with a suggestive brow, silently reminding Hermione of the many favors she owed him for all the times they’d been interrupted over the last few days. Hermione laughed and nodded. 

“Let's get home then,” she conceded. 

After bidding their guests farewell and saying goodnight to Scorpius, they finally slipped away into bed, beginning the New Year in the best possible way. 

***

January the First dawned with a downpouring of rain and the little family of three trekked out the door with their rain boots and umbrellas, bent on doing some puddle jumping. They headed over to town and got properly wet and muddy, stopping in at a few shops on their way to the pub for something hot to drink. 

The bell above the door chimed loudly as they rushed in from the rain and they hung up their coats, sinking into the leather armchairs over by the bay window that Hermione had enjoyed on her very first visit. They had some apple pie with their coffee - hot chocolate for Scorp - and Hermione confirmed her apt with her editor set for the following day. The novel had finally undergone all the necessary edits - and had gotten approval from her fiance - and would be published in time for Valentine's Day. Hermione grew warm as she recalled Draco’s reaction when she had finally gotten the nerve to let him read the ending.

It’s your best yet, love, no question about it. 

They talked about their plans for the rest of the week and played go-fish and Hermione began to daydream about their wedding, which they had already decided couldn’t come quick enough. Sometime in the spring maybe? She could already picture having it outside on the grounds at the Chateau in Paris, which Draco assured her would be covered in wildflowers come May. 

They idly passed a few hours at the pub, with no hurry, in particular, to go anywhere. 

They had all the time in the world, after all.

Finis. 

“I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you've never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you're not, I hope you have the courage to start over again.” F. Scott Fitsgerald