It had taken a millennia to make it through the entire museum, so it only made sense that Draco and Hermione were both starving by the end of it. They still had one more day in Banchory which they had designated as an official "Tourist Day" to see what else the town had to offer. That said, they decided to make use of the room service the hotel provided and had dinner in Hermione's room. Of course, that led to nothing but grumblings from the brunette.

"I know that we've had this conversation before, but what exactly is your problem with house-elves?" Draco asked her. The house elf assigned to their room had recently left after setting out a lovely dinner spread for them, and she was brooding about it.

"How can you even ask me that?" Hermione scoffed, regretfully dipping her fork into her mashed potatoes. "It's practically indentured servitude. To be bound by a family for your entire life, to serve them, and to do whatever they ask is cruel."

"Tell me, have you ever met a house elf who didn't like being a one?"

"Oh, that's not a fair question to ask. They don't know any better. It's like Plato's Allegory of the Cave."

Draco tilted his head slightly as he reached for his glass of wine. "Muggle thing?"

"Yes, a muggle thing," Hermione smiled. "It's a story that was written by a man named Plato somewhere around the sixth century. As the story goes there are group of people who've only ever seen shadows on a wall all of their life. It's not until they actually leave it that they realize the reality that they're living isn't what it seems. That there's more out there waiting for them."

"Ah, I see," Draco replied with a gentle nod. He shooed away a random fly before replying, "So, you think house elves are only happy because being a servant is all they know?"

"Precisely."

"Well, as much as I hate to crush your spirits, that's not the same at all."

"No?" Hermione questioned with a furrowed brow. She set down her fork for a moment and leaned back in her seat. "How so?"

"Well, what you're talking about has more to do with knowledge than anything else. All they knew of the world was constrained by their living in a cave. While I understand the point that you're trying to make, feelings are different than what you know. When you're unhappy about something you know it. It doesn't matter how hard you try to ignore the emotion or whether you even understand it. When it's strong enough it'll overtake everything that you think of and what you do. If house elves weren't truly happy, trust me, they would make that known."

"Are you sure? It's a bit hard to let your feelings out when part of your servitude prevents you from speaking ill will of who you work for. It's just...complicated."

"Not really," Draco shrugged. "Look at myself. Constrained by everything that my family taught me and wanted me to do. It may have taken me longer than I would have liked, but I'm finally managing to break free, aren't I?"

Hermione had suddenly sat erect in her seat. "Did you just compare yourself to a house elf?"

Draco paused for a moment, a hand on his chin as he stroked a non-existent beard. "I think so, yes. Too insensitive?"

"A little, but mostly just sad," she admitted. "No person should be trapped in the ways that you've been."

"I agree, but it's almost over," Draco smiled. "Two more months and I'll be shot of the last thing that represents everything that's been holding me down. You can call me your boyfriend in public and I don't have to resort to calling you my girlfriend in my head. Or in French, for that matter."

"In French? When did you do that?"

"To Guillaume," he explained sheepishly. "Like you with your parents, I couldn't exactly call you my friend."

Hermione felt herself go warm and knew that her cheeks had taken on a pink hue. She covered herself by eating, but soon she was slowing her movements as her lips curled downwards. "I still don't understand why we have to hide while Astoria can date so openly."

"Primitive beliefs, I'm afraid. Beliefs where pureblood life bends to the will of the witch. What she wants, she gets. If she's upset, depressed, or takes on a lover, it's something that you, her husband, has done to cause her to falter. She is...blameless, and I'll be looked on as the one who couldn't keep the family together."

Hermione's mouth hung open. When she eventually managed to gather words to speak, she only had one thing to say, "Pardon me for saying this, but that is the most barbaric pile of shit I've ever heard in my life."

"And you word your distaste so elegantly," Draco winked. "But yes, I agree, and soon I can put it all behind me. Now, enough depressing business and onto something ridiculously childish. Are you ticklish?"

Hermione furrowed her brow with the oddity of the question and quirked a brow soon after. "I'm sorry?"

"Ticklish," he repeated. "Are you?"

"I'm pretty sure just about everyone is."

"Ah, but that doesn't answer the question. Are you?"

Hermione's guard was up faster than a blink and she instantly hugged her body as a form of protection. "I might be. Why?"

"Oh, well, that's easy to deduce," Draco grinned as he removed the napkin from his lap and set it onto the table. "I do believe that you once asked me my age and I said six, like my son. I'm a year older now and still very much a child when I want to be. I guess the question now is where to start? Stomach, neck, or feet?"

Perhaps a second had passed and Hermione leapt out of her seat in an attempt to run, but damn Draco and his speed had managed to capture her around the waist. As it turned out, yes, she was ticklish, and terribly at that.

"Malfoy!" Hermione laughed and screamed at the same time. He had opted to keep one hand around her waist and attacked her on both sides of her stomach with intermittent touches of her neck. "Malfoy! You evil, little-!"

"Cockroach?" Draco supplied as answer. His mouth was near her ear and so his voice did a bit of tickling on its own. She squirmed terribly before she decided to give him a bit of his own medicine. She awkwardly bent an arm back and poked him in the ribs. "Hey!"

"You're not the only one who's ticklish, I see!" Hermione said with glee. A couple more pokes and Draco had loosened his grip enough so that she could turn around in his grasp. Now it was a her getting the upper hand and it turned out that he was even more ticklish than her. Both sides of the neck, shoulders, armpits, ribcage, and above the bellybutton.

"I give! I give!" Draco shouted. He had gracefully collapsed onto the floor by now and Hermione straddled him. She was doing her best to bypass his hands he had put up to shield himself, but eventually he caught her wrists and stopped her from further damage. "Remind me to never get into a tickle fight with you ever again," he smiled. Hermione laughed of her own accord this time and enjoyed the feel of Draco's fingers sliding across her forearms to her fingertips and back again.

"Are you actually admitting that you've met your match?"

"If by definition you mean 'companion' then yes."

How Draco was able to make her melt by saying so little Hermione would never know. Quite frankly she didn't care so long as he did it. He met her lips halfway as she leaned forward. The kiss was slow, yet deep, a gentle touch of tongues before gentleness was done away with. Draco's hands had moved from her arms, up her shoulders and now down her back. They had settled on her hips now and she feel the tips of his fingers tracing the edge of her shirt and where her skin began. Hermione's hesitancy was there, as always, but for the first time she ignored it. She closed her eyes as Draco splashed kisses along her throat and as her shirt rose. She didn't know if her rise in heartrate was from the act, Draco, or both, but her shirt was over her head now and they both paused. They stared each other in the eyes and neither dared to look elsewhere.

Draco licked his lips once and swallowing before saying, "Tell me what you want."

It was a loaded question, truly. Unfortunately, what Hermione wanted and what she emotionally could or couldn't do were two different things. Embarrassment quickly crept up to her face as she began to stammer.

"It's been… Not since Ron, have I…" She could feel herself tear up, but she'd be damned if she let tears fall despite how she felt. "I'm sorry."

She was shrinking back into her shell; Draco could see it. Although not totally irreversible, he still needed to keep her from a full retreat, and so he did the one thing he knew would work. With his hands now cupping his distraught witch's face he asked one simple thing.

"Did you forget how?"

Hermione sputtered, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. "I did not!"

"After two children and a loving marriage I would think not," Draco grinned. "Besides, out of the two of us I'm far more out of practice, I assure you. Circa...2005, as a matter of fact." He frowned then and scoffed. "Damn, Scorpius is my last indicator of a good time. How disappointing is that?"

Hermione stared blankly for what felt like hours. Soon, she was breaking out into a smile before succumbing to a laughing fit that had happy tears falling down her cheeks instead of sad ones. Draco took her raucous joy at his expense to be a good sign and he pulled her into him so that she could lay her head on his chest.

"Thank you," she mumbled her gratitude onto him. Draco nodded and let his fingers innocently dance across her shoulders.

"Anytime. Although, I'm obligated to warn you that unless you want to feel just how much I'm fond of you, you might want to stop straddling me."

Hermione lifted her head up slightly to catch Draco's face. He was one shade pinker and she couldn't help but giggle. "I guess putting on my shirt may also help, huh?"

"My active imagination says otherwise, but thanks for the offer."

June 16th, 2013

Most parents enjoyed a little time away from their kids, but Hermione had been a wreck without hers. Thank Merlin for Draco and her family and friends for the distraction. While Draco was off spending the rest of his weekend with Scorpius, Hermione had just apparated to Camp Piggleton to pick up Rose and Hugo. She had an entire day planned for her little ones starting out with their favorite dessert when they got home. She had pulled out all of the movies that they loved, laid them out in three stacks on the coffee table in front of the TV and they'd just have a relaxing Sunday afternoon catching up. It was perfect.

"Rose! Hugo!" Hermione shouted ecstatically once she saw them. Hugo heard her first and nudged Rose in the ribs. They both took off at a run and children and mother met each other halfway. "Oh, I missed you both so much!" Hermione greeted with massive hugs. "Did you guys have fun? Tell me all about it!" She paused, waiting for a barrage of everything that they had done for the past two weeks, but her children were oddly silent. Hermione pulled away from them, looking into both of their faces and realizing that they were far from happy. "Guys? Hey, what's wrong?"

"Um, Ms. Weasley?"

Hermione looked up to find one of the camp counselors gently beckoning her over. She frowned before telling Rose and Hugo to stay where they were and that she would be right back.

"Yes?"

"I'm so terribly sorry. It's… Well, it's Father's Day you see, and the camp had a few activities like card making and other crafts and…"

Hermione didn't have to hear anymore. Her heart had broken in half the moment she had heard "Father's Day" and her gaze immediately went to her kids. Without another word to the counselor, Hermione dashed to Rose and Hugo, dropped to her knees and pulled them into the tightest hugs she could muster. They returned the hugs just as fiercely, and instead of breaking, Hermione's heart shattered when she felt their tears trickle down her neck.

She didn't want to let them go, but it was the only way that Hermione could properly disapparate. With each child in hand Hermione found an appropriate place to leave from and soon they were all landing in the middle of their backyard at home. She took a moment to look down at her kids: Rose, on her right, using her free hand to wipe at her face, and Hugo, on her left, not even bothering to dry his face and just staring at the ground.

How could she have forgotten what today was? She had her own father to think about for Merlin's sake. Hermione was weak all over, but she couldn't show that. Instead, she swallowed deeply and led the kids to the veranda so that they all sat down on the couch swing. Silence trickled in as Hermione tried to figure out what to do or say. Was there even a right way to handle this?

Hermione cleared her throat and regretted how uneasy her voice sounded. "Do...you guys want to talk about it?" She paused, looking at both child in turn. "It's okay if you don't."

Out of pure nervousness Hermione began rocking the couch wing back and forward, hoping that it would ease some of the tension. And it did, she supposed, for she only felt mild distress when Hugo spoke up in a soft tone.

"Can we go see dad?"

"I… Yes… If that's what you want to do."

"Can you make some flowers to take with us?" Rose asked her mother. Hermione patted her shoulder gently and nodded.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. I'll make them after we leave so we don't lose them on the way."

Rose and Hugo hopped off of the couch swing and Hermione sluggishly followed suit. Whereas she had been feeling on top of the world lately, a crippling anxiety had snuck into her heart and weighed her body down. It was as she stood in the middle of the backyard with her children by the hand that she realized this would be the first time going to Ron's grave since February. She suddenly feared going as she wondered, quite irrationally, if Ron would be upset with her were he alive that she stopped going to see him.

"Mum, are we going?" Rose asked her.

Hermione broke from her thoughts and told her yes. She cautioned them both to hold on tight before they disapparated and they soon landed at an apparation spot not too far from West Norwood Cemetery. It seemed...bigger than the last time she was here. Sadder too, for there were dozens upon dozens of saddened people walking amongst the tombstones. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. It was Father's Day after all, and there was no doubt in her mind that that was why it was so busy.

Two sets of flowers light enough for Rose and Hugo to carry were conjured before Hermione led them out of the alley they had apparated into. She walked with them across the street, pass the gates, and along various pathways among the dead. It wasn't long before reaching Ron's grave and she immediately hated herself. His tombstone wasn't the pristine, shiny stone as it once was. A couple small chips were here and there, and to her the words highlighting his name and epithet were fading, but the dates of his birth and death were blindingly clear. Top off the fact that the grass growing over Ron's burial site was looking old and worn, it ached Hermione to see it this way. Every month she used to give his tombstone a proper touch-up. Anti-weathering charms, spells for lawn tendering, you name it. Hermione didn't just stop coming to see her husband, she also stopped caring for him.

Hermione took a deep breath to keep her emotions at bay and kept her gaze at other things around her. The trees, other graves, people, the sky and its clouds. Even then Ron's tombstone was still in plain sight. So were Rose and Hugo who had just given their father his flowers and were now holding hands. It was this moment above all others that solidified the pain of this day. Her children weren't fine. She wasn't fine.

Would they ever be?

June 18th, 2013

Draco had expected not to hear from Hermione on Sunday seeing as her children were coming home from camp. He figured that they were having a blast being reunited with each other after two weeks and so he left them to it. As Monday morning and afternoon came and went, he began to worry and so he sent her an owl asking her how she was. By the evening he had received a generic, "I'm fine, thank you" and that had been the end of it. This morning Draco sent her another owl, asking if she was alright, and yet again he had received a letter along the same lines. He went to her office then, hoping to see her, but then was confused when she wasn't there. She wasn't at home either when he checked, and it befuddled him even further. It was possible that maybe she had been in a meeting or had taken a late lunch, and so when he was sure that she would be home from work, Draco Flooed to her house again. It was obvious that something was amiss and he wasn't going to find out in any other way than in person.

It wasn't quite dinner time, but it was obvious that it was in the process of being made if the smell was anything to go by. Draco headed straight to the kitchen and found Hermione busily going at it with various pots and pans and food items.

"You're ignoring me."

Startled, Hermione dropped the wooden spoon in her hand and let out a shriek. "Malfoy! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, no particular reason. Just trying to find out why I haven't heard from you," Draco said with a nonchalant, albeit agitated shrug. "Those one-sentence letters of yours don't count."

Hermione frowned and sighed as she bent down for her spoon. "I'm sorry. I've been a bit distracted."

Draco cocked a brow. "A bit?"

"A lot," she amended. "It's not your fault, I promise. It was Father's Day on Sunday as I'm sure you're aware, and it didn't exactly bode well for Rose and Hugo what with a father-themed last day at camp."

"Hell," Draco relaxed his shoulders. He could've kicked himself having not realized how big of a deal this was. He nodded to himself in understanding and rocked back on his heels. "Are they okay?"

"No," Hermione said sadly. She sighed and took a moment to turn off the stovetop before she burned everything and turned back to Draco. "I've spent the past two days home with them and they're just… They're not themselves. Rose and Hugo miss their father so much, and I don't know how I couldn't see it. I'm their mother; I should know that they're not alright. I should've known. I should've-"

"Hey, hey, hey, stop." Draco could see a rant coming and he walked over, putting his hands on Hermione's shoulders with a gentle squeeze. "Don't you dare beat yourself up. One bad day doesn't mean that Rose and Hugo aren't alright."

"One bad day?" Hermione repeated. She scoffed and shrugged Draco's hands away from her. "Has anyone you really loved ever died? No? Well, let me be the one to inform you that it's not just 'one bad day.' It's a pain that doesn't go away. It… It stays there, in your heart and in your head, and you're never really fine."

Draco felt his insides collapse. It was there now. Everything that was Hermione Weasley as he had first met her was swimming at the surface of her face and body. Her watery eyes, her tense posture, an overall gloom that dimmed her natural aura.

"You're talking about yourself, aren't you?"

Hermione could hear the disappointment in his voice and it made her feel sick. She was hurting him, but what more could she say that wouldn't do worse? Seconds passed between them and it turned out that her silence was just as bad as any words that could come out of her mouth. Draco took deep a breath, a small, yet detectable nod accompanying it as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"I guess I'll just head home then."

Hermione didn't want him to, but she also didn't know how much better the situation would be if he had stayed. And so, she continued to stand in the middle of the kitchen as Draco turned on his heel and left the room. Moments later the fireplace roared to life and she knew that he was gone. Simply knowing that fact should have eased some of her tension and burden, but instead her body caved in and she slipped to the floor in a sobbing mess.

Author's note:

In a weird twist of fate, this chapter comes out just before the weekend of my one-year anniversary that my five-year relationship ended. I had started writing this story the year before it happened, but a lot of it when I felt the relationship dying, and the rest after that worst day of my life (and still writing). To me, no matter how you lose someone, if the love was strong it'll always hurt. Trying to be strong will hurt. Moving on/trying to move on will hurt (and hurt not just you, as in Draco's case). I've found that many scenes with Hermione combatting her grief for Ron and hesitance to move on are my exact feelings battling my own sadness over my ex, even a year later. Nothing more than this last scene has touched me so, especially when Hermione says, "It's not just 'one bad day.' It's a pain that doesn't go away. It… It stays there, in your heart and in your head, and you're never really fine."

Thanks for reading guys :)

-WP

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