A/N: *NOTE: This work was previously titled "If Time Was Still"*

I'm rather proud of myself for getting this out in the time frame promised! As far as I am aware, this will be the last installment in the series. I don't know how many chapters it will be, yet, but I do have at least a few planned. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy! Please be sure to leave a comment with your kudos and let me know what you're thinking and thanks for reading!

Shea's lifestyle being what it was, all he had ever asked for was honestly.

Draco being the mess that he was, found that too easy of a promise to break.

"Oh, gods, yeah…do that again. Right there." A chuckle from behind ruffled the hair right at Draco's ear, causing a shiver to run straight down his spine. "Oh, don't you fucking laugh at me. This week has been…uhn, shit…longer than you can imagine."

"Oh, the drama of your life."

"Drama, indeed. The boy is teething. Our new neighbors always seem to be at the house, asking questions and trying to make nice. Work has been…. This latest case is a lot to handle. I'm fucking exhausted…." He sighed heavily before letting loose with another deep, guttural noise. "That's it…."

"And how's the boyfriend?"

"Which one?"

This time, the laugh was sharp and grating. Definitely meant as an insult. Feeling the tension come back tenfold, Draco shrunk away from the pressure. "Sorry, I just didn't know that's what I was." The apology was a bit stale. Forced. But true. They had never said what this was, let alone give it such an intense label.

And just like that, the fragile bubble surrounding their secret place shattered. The mood and glamor were gone completely. Sighing heavily, Draco pulled away and gave up all hope of pretending his problems ended at the door. "I was joking. Obviously."

Harry was wearing a sickening grin when Draco turned around to face him. "No you weren't," he whispered, snapping shut the bottle of massage oil. "Not really, anyway. I know how you think of me."

Draco was actually rather glad this wasn't something. It meant that he could leave whenever he damn well pleased. And that time had come now. Dusk was just starting to fall outside, so it was probably time, anyway. He had spent too long here and now it was back to the real world. Away from those sturdy hands and desire-lidden stolen glances. "Don't presume to know me, Potter," he chided, pulling himself up out of the bed. The first time he'd really left it over the entire weekend. It felt so wrong. Like he was leaving behind some vital part of himself.

It always felt that way. He really should be used to it by now.

"Not quite a presumption. More of a fact culminated over time." Harry relaxed back against his headboard, eager to go nowhere. Not that he had to. The clean-up from their time spent away never left him running away. He always had the freedom of remaining naked and right at home. "I know you, Draco Malfoy. I used to be a bit obsessed with you, you know."

Rolling his eyes, Draco made short work of redressing. "It's not like you were good at keeping that a secret."

With a shrug, Harry sunk further into the pillows. Despite their relaxing day of lazing and relaxing, he looked as if he was worn absolutely thin. "Try not to let the dogs loose, this time, will you? Last time I had to chase them halfway to the next village."

And that was that.

Draco nodded, swallowing his retort as well as a heartbreaking goodbye. He'd learned long ago that soft kisses and whispered 'next time's only served to leave them in pieces.

Not that he didn't already feel that way, anyway.

It had now been four years since that rushed fuck that changed everything. Four years since the collapse of Draco's life as he had come to know it. Four years since he'd confessed what had happened to Shea, tears and snot dripping down his face. Four years since he was sure that was the end. Four years since the man merely laughed and took him back home. Four years since the most understanding person his life tried (and unfortunately failed) to put Draco Malfoy back together again.

And four years later, Shea was still there. Trying.

They had moved on and up with their lives. No longer was Draco trying to shut out the magical world. He finished what little was left of his potioneer training, eventually accepting a job with MACUSA. And, when his talent and previous Auror training was noticed, eventually he accepted a promotion as well. Lead Investigator in the Potions Crime Unit. Along with the promotion came a change in scenery. For nearly three years now, they had been working on settling into the drastic difference of a New York suburb.

Also along with the promotion came a celebration. Perhaps too much and too wild of a celebration. And out of that celebration came the most unexpected and beautiful gift Draco could ever ask for.

A gift that nearly bowled him over the instant he apparated onto the back stoop. Caught off-guard, Draco stumbled backwards. He tripped over his own feet, his backside hitting the grass with an indelicate 'oof'.

"Daddy!" the toddler exclaimed, following him down to the ground. Like it was some sort of game. He giggled, snuggling into Draco's side.

As much as Draco wanted to be upset, he just couldn't manage it. The boy missed him; that was for certain. But Draco had missed him, as well. Every time he was away, he came back desperately starved of this child's shining face. The face that was currently in the midst of a full, rashy breakout. "Oh, Scorpius, my sensitive prince…. Who's left you all on your own to play in the grass?"

Somewhere behind him in the yard came a heavy sigh. "He's not on his own, Draco. I'm watching him. Already noticed the hives. He's had some allergy medicine – he should be fine in a few minutes." Astoria shuffled through the grass, coming to rest right behind Draco's head. She leaned into his direct eye-line, the absolute definition of steamed. He was willing to bet she hadn't slept well since he left. "You don't have to pretend like he doesn't get properly parented while you're away."

Less than a minute.

He had been home less than a minute and already he could feel that tension settling back into his shoulders. He pulled Scorpius closer, working to balance the boy and his overnight bag as he tried to stand back up. "Wasn't meant as a personal attack, Love," he muttered while settling the boy on his hip. "And I've brewed a salve for his skin. You should use that instead of the Muggle shit."

"Whatever. It's just been me and the baby for the last three days. He won't sleep. He won't eat. All he wanted was to sit out here and wait for you." Astoria carded her fingers through her short, dark hair in frustration. She looked exhausted. She looked frail. Frailer than normal. And that was in part his fault. "It's your fucking turn. I'm going to bed."

Just as he had assumed, Shea was still gone. He had been for a few weeks, now. And every single time they spoke, he never had an idea on when he would be back. The book tour his agent had scheduled was apparently neverending. They kept adding in dates and events. And Shea kept saying 'yes'.

Which was just fine with Draco. The less he saw of their partner, the less guilt ate away at him. Especially right after one of these stolen weekends.

"That's alright," Draco whispered, following Astoria into the house. She disappeared up the stairs and he settled Scorpius in his high chair. "We don't need Mumma. We don't need Papa, neither. We're fine on our own, aren't we?" The boy grinned, his grey eyes shining with mischief. "Exactly. We got this. We're going to get you some lunch and then we'll grab a nap."

"F'ck noooooo!"

Draco snorted, secretly proud that they couldn't break him of this favorite phrase. "Fuck, yes. Daddy's tired. Daddy did…a lot of work this weekend…."

In a way, this was true. It just wasn't the type of work be pretended it was. Official work. It was…emotional and physical work. Work that cleansed his soul and made coming home bearable. Work that left him drained, not just in the physical sense but also deeper within.

XxX

It was the first time Draco had set foot in the British Isles since his latest desperate escape. It felt wrong coming back, just like it had last time. He was a part of an almost entirely different world now. But…not, at the same time. He was back to the world be had grown up in. He fit in now better than he did two years ago, pretending to be a mere Muggle. He had a job and a purpose in life that didn't have anything to do with Harry Bloody Potter, Saint of the Wizarding World.

This was what he told himself, anyway.

"If you want to eat, I could hold the child you."

Pulling out of his ever-distracted haze, Draco looked up. His mother, sitting across the table from him, looked almost out of it herself. Like she'd forgotten her own countenance. A smile was even pushing at her lips.

But Draco was sure he must look near the same.

The newborn in his arms had been in his life for less than a month and already Draco knew he might never be the same. This innocent, blinking up at him with his own light grey eyes, had carved out a soft spot somewhere inside of him. Probably the same spot that had felt so empty for so many years.

Reluctant to give away the small bundle of warmth, Draco reached for his fork. This was why he had come home, in the first place. Once the shock of the announcement settled, his parents were surprisingly eager to meet their grandchild. More eager than the Greengrasses had been. If they were thinking it, neither Narcissa nor Lucius ever threw out the word 'bastard'. He was willing to give them the chance Astoria wasn't offering to her own parents.

But now that they were sitting here in the restaurant (a restaurant of the caliber that didn't exactly welcome children), Draco was feeling hesitant. Not that he didn't want his parents in Scorpius' life. Not that he didn't trust them. It was just….

Did he have to share the feeling this child gave him? Couldn't he selfishly keep it to himself?

"It's alright; I'm managing."

"If only Astoria had accompanied you. It really is more of her job than yours…."

Draco sighed heavily, silently thankful that he had opted for a hotel room this time around. As kind as they were trying to be, there were still the same, broken problems. The same way of thinking that had poisoned them all his life. "I'm fairly certain that since I helped create the baby, I can probably handle caring for him." He could feel his father's eyes on him – judging him. "Besides…Astoria could use a small break."

She didn't have to, but Astoria insisted on working. She insisted that it gave her purpose. She insisted that Draco was too traditional and he should want her to do it. She insisted he should want her to be independent, if he loved her in any form of the word.

She also insisted that she didn't have any ill post-partum thoughts. That she loved the boy. That she was just tired and needed less time with him. With them. With anyone.

She insisted that she was fine. Draco wasn't quite convinced.

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, pushing away her plate. She, of course, looked around the restaurant first. Making sure no one was looking, even though they wouldn't care if they had been. They wouldn't have known what they were looking at anyway. "In all honesty, Draco, I am just trying to be politely selfish. I really would love to hold my grandson."

"As would I."

It wasn't as if the Malfoy family were genetically predisposed to have no feelings. They just…weren't overly showy. They didn't give a lot away. It was an old way of thinking. A Pureblood 'tradition'. Something that prevented…complications. A necessity of protection against vulnerability. Growing up in the time he had – after one war and just before another – Draco had definitely been raised in a cold home.

His parents were stuck in their decisions and values. And he had just assumed they still would be. That they would treat his son just as they had treated him. Loving but a bit aloof.

Draco tried as hard as he could to keep the shock from his face. He avoided eye contact to try and keep a bit of composure. But it didn't work. He couldn't hide how his father's simple statement hit him. And his parents took notice.

"Unless you don't trust us," Narcissa whispered, her own voice betraying something just a bit cracked. "Which…I suppose could be justified. Especially considering how Levana and Silas are handling things." She cleared her throat again, just barely holding her opinions behind her teeth. "We are not like them, I assure you. The way they speak of the child…." Her nose wrinkled in something akin to disgust.

They had received several letters from Astoria's parents that said just how they spoke of Scorpius. The fact that Draco's parents saw this as something deplorable helped to settle the unease in him. Maybe they deserved this chance, after all.

"Would you like to watch Scorpius for the night, then?"

Her face lighting up with child-like excitement, Narcissa nodded emphatically. "I think we would love that, Draco."

Nothing about the way this trip was going had been planned. It was just supposed to be a quick visit. A taste of how his parents were feeling about the situation. Just a taste. Something he could easily walk away from.

But Draco hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected raw emotion and honesty. And he hadn't expected to cave. And he hadn't expected to be left at the end of the night with nothing but his nagging worries to accompany him.

Being alone was the dangerous part.

The thought to make contact had been nagging Draco since he decided to make this trip. He had already promised Shea that he wouldn't. It wasn't healthy – they had both agreed. Together.

And Draco was quite skilled at doing what was bad for him.

The familiar ache of regret was starting to settle deep within him. He'd only just sent the letter a moment before. The borrowed barn owl had only just flown out the window, its soft squawk still stuck in his eardrums. A warning cry. A judgement. Even that thing knew he was being reckless.

But he just…couldn't help it. The temptation was too close. It was too real to be in the same country.

His letter had asked for company. For a sympathetic ear. An open mind and gentle heart. Something he didn't even come close to deserving. But he asked anyway.

And the reply was destined to shatter him, no matter the tone or content. No matter if he showed up or not. Either way, he was walking out of this under a dark cloud. Either way, he felt like he might not recover this time. This could be the last time, if he wasn't careful. If he didn't start being a little smarter.

Cold. He should be cold. He could stand to feel a little less.

He could stand to be a little less open.

He could stand to close himself off to preserve what he had left.

But in the end, self-preservation never did seem to be his strong suit.

And Harry Potter had always been his weakness.

Even as he appeared in the fireplace of Draco's hotel room, two years after having seen one another last, there was no hope for him to forget that. It felt like all the air had been pushed straight from his lungs. He couldn't breathe at the sight of that man. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. All he could manage was a hollow rattle in the back of his throat and an unsettled shifting of his feet.

"I'm starting to think this is going to be a recurring nightmare with you."