Part II

Scorpius sat atop his father's shoulders and peered out over the heads of the surrounding people. So many loud noises. The poor child could barely think. Being only 18 months old, the child had lacked the ability to tell his father he wished to be someplace warmer and quieter, so instead he scanned the area to find a familiar spot to find solace in. As his father quickened his pace, the young child's senses sprung to life as his bearings began to nudge at his ever forming memory. He knew they were somewhere they had been before. That's when he saw it. It was coming right up. Now he knew where they were going. The familiar sign hung in the distance but he recognized it immediately. A big picture of a cat resting atop a pile of books jutted out of the façade of one of the buildings they were approaching. He loved the place with the cat on the wall. Best of all, inside the building was a furry little friend to pet and play with. And best of all, he knew if he were to go into that particular building he would receive a snuggle, a treat, a book, and a kiss. His father liked that store too from what he could tell. His father always smiled when they went in and his voice changed in a way he never heard when they were at home. The cat and the books was getting closer. Scorpius could feel the excitement welling up inside of him. They were almost there! He began to sway his little body towards the entrance of the building as they came upon it, causing his father to nearly lose his balance.

"Whoa son! What's the matter?" Draco asked stopping to readjust the boy on his shoulders. His response was nothing but a muffled plea, begging to be put down so he could make his way inside for his treat. Realizing where they were, Draco was able to put two and two together.

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry champ, but we aren't going to the bookstore today." Scorpius reacted the way a reasonable toddler would; he cried and kicked his legs against his daddy's chest. "Would you calm down you little hellion?!" Draco chided playfully. "We will see her soon enough and I am sure you will get exactly what you want when we do!" His reasoning fell on deaf ears. Pushing past the crowd, he tried to get them away from Hermione Granger's storefront as quickly as he could.

While his son continued his protest, Draco thought about how much time he really did spend in that little nook of a shop with his child. He remembered the first time he had ever been brave enough to consider engaging in any sort of conversation with her.

15 months earlier

Since the war ended he had very little interaction with her. She saw him at the post-war trials, and even he stood mystified on the sidelines as she took the stand and defended his participation in the war. She had explained to the court that while many of his actions were inexcusable despite his age (as other wizards and witches the same age as him made the much more rational and responsible choice to resist the dark lord's plans) she knew without doubt that he aided in their escape in the manor. He had known it was Harry who had been brought in just as sure as knew it was her being tortured under his aunt's wand. She didn't bring up any accusations about his lack of assistance while she lay convulsing on his marbled floor. She merely explained that when he had the opportunity to take out the one person who could save their world, he didn't; and she thought that should count tremendously in his defense.

He had not seen her again until two years later at a hearing to determine if his house arrest and probationcould be suspended. She was not asked to take the stand, but she came all the same and watched the proceedings. When it was over and he was declared an officially free man, she approached him with the same brazen attitude she always had and spoke sternly to him.

"Not everyone is as lucky as you are. I can hardly think of another person in this war who is in the position you currently find yourself. I hope you take this opportunity to prove to people that you are better than you have shown yourself to be." Her eyes fell from his gaze and looked at the floor. Her voice suddenly changed and was full of something he could not quite place. Remorse maybe? "Sometimes I think about what I said at your trial two years ago and I wonder if I would do it again. I hate that sometimes I think that I was silly to consider that one action would make up for the rather lousy person you showed yourself to be. Not that you owe me anything, but I would love to be proven wrong this one time." She brought her eyes back up to his. He had a barrage of comments locked and ready to fly out of his mouth, but his throat constricted when she went to move a tendril of hair out of her face. The sleeve on her blouse rode up and he could just make out the end of the etched in slur on her arm. All insults disappeared and his stomach dropped to the floor. As if he had a sudden epiphany, his mind repeated her words over and over again.

The silence between the two was palpable and uncomfortable. The two locked eyes and both felt a bolt of something threatening to bring them both down. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy felt vulnerable. He felt like he was looking into the soul of someone who knew him for everything he was, is, and could be. He felt under her control and knew that if she had requested him to drown himself in a bucket he would have done so as quickly as possible.

Hermione felt herself falling into his tortured eyes. She thought about her words and partially regretted them; even if they were true. She had scars and memories to bear of the war like everyone else, but it was a little easier to get to sleep most nights knowing that every blow she took, she took for the betterment of their society. But he didn't have that luxury. But then again, he didn't have a choice like she and so many others did. She suddenly felt a massive wave of pity for the boy, man, she was looking at. He never had a chance; but that shouldn't count as payment for all his sins right?

Suddenly, she felt as though she had no control of her limbs. She felt herself lift her arms and tightly wrap them around his waist. She pulled him close to her and rested her head on his chest. Draco, never being one for affection and certainly put into a state of shock by this unwarranted attention, went rigid in her arms. After a moment, and with her arms still around him, she looked back up at his face. His eyes were closed tight and she was sure she saw a sparkle of moisture in the corners of both of them. A flashing light caught her attention and she saw a swarm of reporters and gossip columnist swiftly approaching. Realizing the impact a photo or snippet of conversation of her and Draco would have on the press, she decided to move swiftly. She pulled his head down so his ear was level with her mouth and whispered to him. His breath hitched in his throat as her words trickled like velvet into his ear.

"Don't be better for them", she breathed into his ear, referring to the crowd of reporters anxiously waiting the interview with the ex-deatheater "be better for yourself". She let go of him and pulled away. Her cheeks held a tinge of rose at her sudden actions. As she turned to leave he reached his arm out to her. She stopped and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She gave him one last look and walked away.

"I could be better for you" he thought to himself as he watched her walk away.

He wouldn't see her again for nearly three years at his wife's funeral. She had come as a compulsory act of social etiquette, but found herself to be more saddened than she anticipated. Maybe it was the way Draco held himself and spoke with the guests. The rough and callous nature of his voice was gone and his posture was less rigid and intimidating. She had meant to speak to him personally and offer her condolences, but at the last minute decided against it. She had lost sight of him anyway. She was sure that he had seen her face and her social obligation had been fulfilled. She doubted very little he would have anything to say to her, much less want to say anything to her. She made her way out of the ball room that was currently being used as a funeral hall and headed towards the exit. This was the first time she had been to the manor since her meeting with Bellatrix.

She repeated to herself that he wouldn't care if she said anything at all, but the truth was, her early exit was due to the fact that she felt her chest tighten and her breath quicken in the presence of the cavernous manor she now stood in. She was stricken with an unbelievable force of panic at the idea of being here. Her research would call her response PTSD and perfectly acceptable given the situation. She tried to use that logic and reason to pull herself out of the grips of panic and anxiety. Her efforts were in vain as she felt herself slump against the wall and slide down to the floor. She had to think of something to get her mind off of where she was. She tried and she tried but nothing would move the sound of Bellatrix's cruel laugh from her mind. She shut her eyes and concentrated. Suddenly, her thoughts were vanished by a shrill cry. Her eyes shot open and her body stood upright. The cry came again, only it sounded much more agitated. Her legs started moving against her will in the direction of the noise. She happened upon the room the sound was coming from, and very tentatively, she opened the door.

There, in the darkened room stood Draco Malfoy with a small infant clutched in his arms. His black vest had a white, lumpy substance dripping down the back of it. He rocked the baby back and forth, but nothing seemed to calm him down. Looking around the room she noticed a diaper bag spilled out on the floor and three used bottles of premade formula empty on the table. Returning her attention to the matter on his shoulder and back, she reasoned what had happened. Suddenly the overwhelming thoughts she had been having had retreated and her mind was set solely on the poor child screaming in consternation at his father.

With unreasonable bravery she made her presence known. "Do you need any help?" She thought her voice came out a hushed whisper, but it was loud enough to go over the child's screams. Turning suddenly, Draco stared at the woman intruding on his embarrassing failure at fatherhood.

"I am perfectly fine! Now get out!" he replied harshly. Knowing that Draco was not one to ask nicer as second time, she went to turn and leave. But Hermione Granger was Hermione Granger after all. And the little niggling suspense of what the trouble likely was left her aching to prove him wrong. So, rather than leave, she summoned her Gryffindor courage and marched over to the overwhelmed man.

"You have fed him too much and his stomach is aching. You need to hold him in a way that puts pressure on his tummy." She scolded him with her trademark know-it-all-ness. He scowled down, unpleased by the fact that she still thought she knew better than him after all these years.

"And how is it that you would know anything about taking care of a baby. I haven't read any stories in the prophet about you popping out any little bossy, bushy haired, know-it-alls!"

"I'll have you know that as the godmother to Harry's child I have had plenty of time caring for a baby." She replied with an air of arrogance he both loathed and admired. The infant's crying had not ceased once during their interaction, and out of desperation he conceded to her help.

"Then what do you suggest I do?" he asked, irritated at the interaction he was being forced to participate in.

"May I?" she asked gesturing towards the infant. Draco looked between Hermione and the baby. After a moment he carefully handed her the ill-tempered baby.

"Oh please! Do you think I am going to drop him or something?" She took the baby from him and pulled his onesie up and over his head. She then pulled the sleeve of her own shirt up. Using one arm she helped to settle him down on his bare stomach down on her other exposed arm. His head was cradled in her hand and his arms and legs hung on either side of her forearm. She tucked her arm into her chest and protectively placed her other around him.

"This is called the football hold. When a child has had too much to eat, or is gassy, or has any sort of tummy pains, it helps to alleviate the ache by applying pressure. You could try lying him face down on a bed, but the skin to skin contact soothes them more." The baby's cries had instantly begun to fade as she slowly swayed her body back and forth. Draco stared at her in astonishment. "You also might want to try a light swaying motion. You were rocking far too fast and erratic to sooth him" she added.

Draco stood their dumbfounded, his mouth agape. Scorpius had been crying for nearly three hours. None of the house elves had been able to calm him, hence the reason he was called out of the room full of mourners. His thoughts scrambled as he tried to piece together the puzzle of his life that left him in this position. His wife dead in another room, him incompetently trying to care for their child, and Hermione fucking Granger coddling his son whom she had never met like he was her own. He didn't understand it and he hated that she was instantly better at it then he was.

Hermione had long since begun ignoring his menacing stare and rigid posture. She softly swayed her body around the room, humming softly too the child. He noticed the way her dress moved with her body and the simple grace she exuded from the simple act. He shouldn't be thinking those things. Astoria was in the other room. What kind of a man was he that he could even look in the direction of another woman while his wife's body was not even cold yet? It didn't matter that he didn't love Astoria in that way. Nothing about this scene felt right to him. As if waking up from a dream, he shook his head and marched over to Hermione and his son. He placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her ministration abruptly. Without a word, he roughly took the sleeping child from her arms. The sudden and rough movement caused Scorpius to wake, and his wail rang throughout the room. Hermione looked at Draco with what he almost thought was a look of hurt; but as quickly as he saw it, it was gone. Silently, Hermione turned and headed out the door, leaving a crying Scorpius and an angry Draco behind her.

One month later, Draco sat tiredly at his desk. He had more than enough work to do, but being a single father to a baby with a massive case of colic was not very conducive for a good night's sleep. This had been his first week back since Astoria's death and he was finding it exceedingly difficult to concentrate. His eyes began to fall against his will. He would have succumbed to sweet slumber had his momentary bit of peace not been interrupted by a certain green eyed hero.

Harry Potter stood in his open office doorway and knocked loudly on the frame, causing Draco to jump at the sudden intrusion to his silence.

"Sorry to interrupt you, but I needed to talk to you about this latest creation you've sent to the lab. Luna is saying that the side effects far outweigh the relief it offers and there is no way she can push for its release. You will have to change the formula or nix the project entirely" said Potter as he took a seat on the other side of Draco's desk.

"Well maybe I had intended it to cause more harm than good!" spat Draco. He may have changed, but under the right pressing circumstances, a little bit of his bratty side always managed to seep out. "And what the hell are you doing telling me about this Potter? This is hardly the jurisdiction for an auror. If Looney Luna has a problem with my potions she can damn well come tell me herself!"

Harry sat silently and allowed Draco to use his words to lash out at him. Everyone knew of Astoria's suicide and the hallways of the ministry were afire with gossip about what the former death eater must have done to drive her to it. Harry leaned back in his chair waiting for Draco's tirade to end. When it did, he allowed the silence to hang in the air for a moment.

"No one whose opinion holds any merit thinks you had anything to do with your wife's death" he said flatly.

Draco pondered his words for a moment and let out a sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes, he asked, "What is it you really want Potter?"

He was unfazed by Draco's course voice. In the years that he and Draco had been working together, a fledgling friendship had developed. They exchanged very little personal information, but had been known to silently and amicably sit with one another and enjoy a stiff drink after work. When Albus was born, Draco had left a present for the new family in Harry's office, and when Scorpius was born, Harry had done the same. Their friendship was made up of silent moments and small gestures such as that and in one singular moment of desperation, and under the influence of a few rounds of fire whiskey, Draco voiced his concerns over the circumstances of Astoria's death.

Harry clapped his knees with his hands and stood up. "Well, truthfully, Luna asked me to do her a favor and let you know about the potion mishap. She didn't want you to feel like someone was dropping any thinly veiled accusations at you and she, for reasons I don't understand, thought I would be the best person for the job". Harry absently wandered around Draco's office, pouring over the wall to wall library of books. "If I didn't know any better, I could swear this was Hermione's office with the amount of literature cluttering the place up."

Draco's interest piqued at the mention of her name; although he tried to hide his interest, Harry spotted the way his posture straightened at the mention of her name. Harry had never been one for matchmaking, and not knowing the full details of his relationship with Astoria, he knew he had to tread carefully. But he did know that whenever he was at his lowest, Hermione always had a way of building him back up in a way even his wife couldn't master.

"You know", he treaded carefully "Hermione just opened a book shop in Diagon Alley a few months ago. She's got an expansive collection of wizard and muggle books and encyclopedias. I would be willing to be she would have something on the topic we were discussing the other night about Astoria." His words hung in the air and for a moment he had regretted mentioning it. He was daft at matters like this and he certainly didn't want to make things worse for his newest friend.

Draco pondered for a moment. "I doubt very much so that Ms. Granger would want to assist me. And I very much don't blame her. The last time she helped me I was less than cordial to her." Draco hadn't told Harry of his last encounter with Hermione and her assistance with Scorpius. But Harry shrugged off the comment and continued on pressing his luck with the matter.

"Hermione has a very forgiving nature; to a fault I sometimes believe. She has a way of seeing the best in everyone and building people up when they are at their lowest," as he spoke he walked back over to Draco's desk, fishing something out of his wallet. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Draco. "Here is the address of her new shop. Stop in sometimes and see her; I'm positive she could help." Harry turned to leave, but as he got to the door he stopped and looked back at his friend. "Oh, and if you're scared mate, bring the baby with you. She turns to putty around them." With that, he smiled and headed out.

Draco studied the card for a few moments then looked at the stack of files on his desk and his cluttered potions counter. The clocked struck, indicating it was just past lunchtime. Deciding to give in to his impulsivity, he allowed himself to rise out of the chair and head towards the exit. It wasn't as if he was going to accomplish much today anyhow.