Scared

"Are you scared of me, Granger?"

She gazed at the smirking boy in front of her, his white-blond hair slicked back. For now he was shorter than she was, but she knew that in another few years his voice would begin to change into deep and menacing, and his body would grow into tall and intimidating. He would tower over her with those leering eyes, and he would be much stronger; she wouldn't be able to get free.

Childishly, she answered, "No."

"What are you scared of, Granger?"

Her eyes flicked up from her book to the young man sitting elegantly in the wooden chair, despite just having plopped down just then. He had grown up and out just as she predicted. The library was empty; it always was when he came to talk to her.

"Nothing."

"Really now?"

"Really."

But she was afraid. Afraid of losing everything.

She wouldn't tell him she was afraid of losing him too—he who was the only one who truly understood her.

"Do you fear me, Granger?"

Did she?

He had her pinned against the cold, stone wall of an empty hallway. The scowl that seemed permanent nowadays was in place, along with the circles under his eyes. She missed the Draco she once knew, the one who'd insult and argue with her until whatever was making her upset was completely erased from her thoughts, the one who would let her vent her frustrations on, the one who had seen her and her best and at her worst. Not the one who ignored her, not the one who constantly glared at her with cold viciousness if she as so simply took a step in the same room as him. Not he who bore the Dark Mark on his arm.

She couldn't look him in the eyes, no matter how loud he yelled at her to. Instead, her focus remained glued to the black ink. She lied to him, "No."

"Scared now, Granger?"

Her hand was pressed against her heart, feeling its rapid breathing. Her surroundings seemed fuzzy in her dazed mind, but her eyes stayed focused on the bodies of Deatheaters that had, just moments ago, been closing in on her, overpowering her. She whipped her head up to see her savior, his head haloed against the sun. She raised her hand to block the rays, but even then she couldn't see him because he leaned down and picked her up, careful of her hurt leg. With her head cradled against his shoulder, she recognized his scent and smiled.

"Never."

"Scared, Granger?"

Her chocolate eyes were wide as they jumped back and forth between his smirking face and his outstretched hand. In his face she could see how the war had changed him; perhaps more than it did her. But he was still alive, and that was good enough for her.

She slipped her tiny hand into his large, rough one. "No, of course not. You should be ashamed for thinking otherwise."

"You can't be scared, are you Granger?"

She glared at him, but his smile, the Draco smile that isn't a smile by normal standards but all he could ever manage, erupted onto his face. She answered as the Minister bonded their clasped hands together.

"If I was, I wouldn't have said yes. So shut up and kiss me."

"Are you scared, Malfoy?"

Throughout their entire relationship of knowing one another, not once did she ask him that question, not until now at least. "You'll be a perfect father, Draco. The best for our child. I know it."

Her words seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he released her hands from the death grip he held it in, hurriedly reaching for the tiny bundle in her arms. "I'm a Malfoy...we're Malfoys. We'll obviously be wonderful parents."

"Are you scared of me, Granger?"

She whirled around and raised her brows in disbelief. His hair was slicked back, and that was the extent of his features that she could see. Covering his face was a gruesome mask, and she suppressed the urge to laugh when he growled like a wild creature as he moved his cape about like wings.

"Oh, Scor, you're the most frightening creature that ever was!" She faked a scream as her son advanced on her and chased her around the room.

Out of oblivion, arms appeared and lifted the little boy into the air with a roar. She watched with a smile as her husband dropped Scorpius onto the bed, the boy shrieking with laughter as his father tickled him.

Then Draco stopped and leaned forward, whispering into the younger one's ear. They both looked at her out of the corner of their eyes, and on each of their faces grew identical, mischievous smirks. Hermione knew they were up to something and in response she started back up towards the door.

The two most important men in her life spoke together, "Scared, Granger?"

"Are you scared, Granger?"

She looked at her husband who lay calmly in the bed in a room of St. Mungo's. He was paler than normal and he was becoming quite gaunt. There were dark hollows under his eyes and his hand was clasped weakly around hers.

She fought against a sob. "I don't want you to die, Draco."

"That's what happens to old men, Granger. They die. I'm one hundred and eleven, and grateful I lived long enough to witness my great-granddaughter's birth."

They shared a smile at the thought of the newest member of their family, but soon after Draco erupted into a coughing fit. With worry evident in her timeless features, she handed him a glass of water. Her husband gulped it down and dropped it onto the floor, not caring of what became of its remains. Hermione flinched when it shattered, however, and Draco noticed. Sighing, he shuffled in his bed and patted the new space beside him. Once she lay next to him, cocooned in his arms, he buried his face into her greyed hair and breathed deeply. "You didn't answer my question."

She rested her head on his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly, and letting her tears pour out. "Always."