A/N: Regarding the name, I chose "Crixus" because their son has Hermione's curls and I finished "Spartacus" last week.

A/N: This chapter takes place from June 5th-11th, 2010.

They got the letter on Draco's thirtieth birthday.

Queenie Picquery would be released from MACUSA custody in less than a week: June 11th, 2010. They spent the day as normally as possible. Scorpius was newly four, and he looked more like his father with each passing year. He still climbed all over the furniture, though it was more precarious as time went on since he had the habit of jumping off the stairs. Eventually, they bought him a broom to keep him occupied.

Crixus was different; he had Draco's blond hair but Hermione's tight curls and a round nose. (Scorp's was more slim and pointy.) Crixus also loved to read. At least, he made his parents think he had that capability. He read books aloud to them at bedtime instead of them reading the books to him. They were gobsmacked for months until they realized he wasn't actually reading. He simply memorized the words he heard and when to turn the page.

"I want to be angry, but it is so bloody brilliant I just want to throw him a party," Draco admitted.

They argued about the letter after both the kids were in bed.

"We have to go!" Draco insisted.

"No, we very much do not," Hermione countered. "You may have forgotten, but she tried to kill me!"

"And Potter tried to kill me! No one tried to throw him in fucking Azkaban!"

"Because you were a bloody prick at the time who had been trying to kill Headmaster Dumbledore!" Hermione shouted back.

"So you agree that context is key?" Draco asked.

"Of course," Hermione insisted, realizing her mistake only a second too late.

"Then you agree that she was in a poor state of mind due to the influence of everyone around her, being pulled into something she had little means to escape. If she left, Jason would kill her. Hermione, Queenie was me. She was in over her head and trying to survive. She did more than me—she killed the man perpetrating all the harm when it became clear that was the right thing to do! Context matters and if I deserved a second chance then so does Queenie."

"Do not equate yourself to her!" Hermione insisted. "You are better! You have changed—"

"And who is to say she hasn't?" Draco asked.

"It matters little! She enabled the deaths of dozens of people!"

"I nearly killed Weasley by sending the poisoned mead," Draco pointed out. "Nearly killed Katie Bell with the cursed amulet. I facilitated the Death Eaters entering Hogwarts which resulted in the permanent disfigurement of Bill Weasley and the death of Albus Dumbledore! Need I continue, Hermione?!"

She sighed and admitted, "No."

"Queenie has no one else" Draco said. "She has no one but an entire country ready to vilify her. Hermione, I know exactly what that feels like, and she is not as lucky as I am."

"Lucky?" Hermione asked. "How d'you mean?"

"She doesn't have you," Draco replied. Hermione ground her teeth together because well, that was a kind thing to say and a valid point.

"Fine," she begrudgingly agreed. "But I am only going because I love you and this is important to you."

Draco kissed her on the cheek and said, "After my trial I had Blaise and my friends and my mother, for a time. I do not want her to think she is entirely alone in the world, so you are right, it is important to me. And I want you to be there because Queenie needs to see that even people like us can be happy if we choose to do right by the people we wronged and the people we love."

.oOo.

There are advantages to being the boss, namely approving your own vacation the day before it happens. Draco left Scorp and Crixus with Blaise and Dean for the week. All the preparations were made and Hermione would make her first journey to New York and she was anxious as hell. She started packing the moment she got back to the manor that evening, tossing her Healer robe on the bed and grabbing the biggest case she could find.

"How was work?" Draco asked from their bedroom doorway.

"Fanbloodytastic," Hermione answered as she tossed the case onto their bed. "As always. I love my job and you know I love my job and yet you insist on dragging me away from my job and my children to go gallivanting off to New York City just to … Oh, fuck it. I'm upset because I thought we would get a real vacation. One to an island somewhere where no one knows our names and we can just sit and read and shag and, I dunno, maybe figure out a way to do both at the same time." Draco laughed and Hermione insisted, "We're smart enough."

"I do not think we need a vacation for that. Hell, we could try right now if you get your bloody clothes packed," he teased.

"Not after what happened with Tippy," Hermione insisted. She shuddered at the memory. "That was mortifying."

"Somewhere between seeing you in that lingerie and tossing you onto the bed I probably should have locked the door but it slipped my mind. You are very distracting when you aren't wearing clothes," Draco countered.

"Yes, well, after four years I have learned I am the pragmatic one in this relationship."

"One of the many things I love about you," Draco replied with a smile. "Not one of the top ten, of course, but still one of many."

Hermione laughed and asked, "Tell me the top ten, then?"

"I was rather hoping you would ask!" he replied, excited. "Number ten: your tits."

"Why are they only number ten?" Hermione jokingly chided him.

"It should show how important the rest of the list is to me," he teased.

"Alright, number nine then!" Hermione demanded.

"I love your ferocity," Draco said. "You never do things halfway, and you always seem to sort of shout your existence to the world. You are relentless and I admire that. It is one of the things that will make you a great Minister."

"Well, a supportive boyfriend always helps things," Hermione replied. She began folding her dresses and placing them in the case.

"Number eight on the list is that you always listen to my ramblings about baseball. A sport you have never laid eyes on, and yet … You still listen."

"I listen because you like to talk about it," Hermione replied. "You also use it to speak in metaphors and if I don't understand the sport I can't always understand what you are trying to tell me. Number seven?"

"I love that you let me be the fun parent," Draco admitted. "When Scorp and Crixus get older they will hear about what I did during the war. I am terrified of what they will think of me after that."

"Perhaps we should tell them first," Hermione suggested. She had enough dresses and decided to begin work on the trousers.

"A decision for another day," Draco countered. "But you allowing me to be the more engaged parent, the more hands-on it-is-alright-that-you-flew-too-high-and-fell-we-won't-tell-your-mother parent gives me hope that they will not judge me so quickly once they learn of my … misdeeds."

"A fair point, but that is just the sort of parent you are," Hermione replied. Draco fell back onto the edge of their bed and sighed.

"The sixth-best thing I love about you is that you are absolutely determined to convince me to free all my elves."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You can afford to do so and it would send an epic signal to the rest of the Wizarding world that house-elves are not to be treated as slaves. Each creature with a soul is of equal worth! One day you will fall to reason, Draco Malfoy."

"You will live to try another day, Granger," Draco teased. Hermione threw a wadded-up pair of socks at him. "Are you curious to know the top half of my list?"

"Is my arse included?" she asked.

"I am afraid not," Draco said. He walked up and slapped her bum before kissing her cheek. "Does not mean I don't love it, though." Hermione continued rolling trousers and stuffing them into the case. "The fifth thing I love about you is that you forgave me for all the harm I caused you."

Hermione's hands froze.

"That is only number five?" she asked.

"Yes, because everything above it has to do with who you are at your core. You chose to forgive me because of my actions. I chose to be a good person and you chose to trust that I would remain true to that decision."

"And you have proven me right," Hermione insisted. She wrapped her arms around Draco's waist. "I am sorry I don't have an itemized list of things I love about you."

"You do not have time to make a list," Draco teased. He pushed her away and said, "Keep packing. I finished mine hours ago and I take ages longer than you."

"Being Healer-in-Charge is a busy life, especially when you are about to take a weeklong vacation to America." Hermione sighed and tossed in a pair of trainers. "Tell me about number four."

"Ah, yes, number four: your unflinching pursuit of what you believe is right. I love that because you and I are not so different in this regard. You always believe your actions are justified if they are in pursuit of a larger goal for the common good. It can be a rather Slytherin quality and I find it sort of sexy."

"Sort of sexy?" Hermione asked.

"Immensely," Draco teased. "I meant immensely sexy. The thought of justice really puts me in the mood." Hermione laughed. "Number three is the look of intense concentration when your nose is buried in a book."

Hermione's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline as she asked, "You like that?"

"I do," Draco admitted. "It reminds me of what you were like as a kid. I was always trying to best you in class and could never manage it, always just one step behind you. But it is not so bad, you know, being in the presence of generational greatness every day. I would rather support you in your efforts than continue to try and fail to outdo them. Anyway, when you are reading your eyes get really wide and you scrunch your nose up when you have to reread a paragraph. I find it adorable."

Hermione didn't have any reply to that. She felt her cheeks go pink and focused all her attention on arranging things in the case so she didn't need to use an Extending Charm. Draco's ability to deliver words of love without a hint of insecurity was one of the things Hermione would include on her own top-ten list.

"The second-best thing about you is that your love overpowers a blood bond of even the Darkest magic. That is how I know our love is true, Hermione. A curse cast by Voldemort himself is undone by the love of a Muggle-born. The reason I can feel your touch where I cannot feel anything else is because of all the things I have already listed: your love and forgiveness. I love you so much, Hermione Granger, and the best gift you have ever given me is the knowledge that you love me in equal measure."

"I do," Hermione insisted. "And you deserve it. Our family is the most important thing to me just as it is to you." She haphazardly tossed in some blouses and said, "I'm done."

"You have one more item to pack," Draco said.

"No, I think I have everyth—" Hermione turned to face him and her heart nearly jumped out of her ribcage. Draco was down on one knee, offering up a ring. She pressed a hand to her mouth to quiet her incessant mumbling of, Oh my God! Oh my God! Is this happening?

"The thing I love most about you is that you look at my scars and see the man beneath them, not the boy I was when I received them. Hermione Jean Granger, you have given me a family, you have given me hope, and you continue to give me more love than I deserve. As selfish as it is, I want you to keep doing all that for as long as we live. Will you marry me?"

Hermione stared at him for several moments. Her hand finally fell from her mouth and she said,

"It has been so long I assumed you were never going to ask."

"That was the point," Draco admitted. "No one expects us to take this path anymore so there is no reason for you to say yes other than you want to spend the rest of your life with me. But I want you to, Hermione, I want desperately for you to say yes. I promised I would not pressure you into it, but I love you so much and every time I see you with Scorp and Crixus I just think of how goddamn lucky I am—"

"Yes."

"—and I want to be by your side for the rest of your life. I want to be there when you find the cure for Dragon Pox and when you get elected Minister. I want you to retire from the Ministry after three amazing decades so we can spend our old age together laughing at how stupid and phenomenal our kids are, and how much better they are than Potter's kids. Except for Scorp, because he will probably be married to Potter's kid. When you do all these remarkable things I want you to look over at me and think, 'There is no one I would rather have at my side right now.'"

"Yes," Hermione repeated.

"And—wait, oh my God, did you just say yes?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and repeated, "Yes."

Draco stayed on his knee for a couple seconds, processing her answer. Then he jumped up and pulled Hermione into a hug. She smiled and said,

"Yes, as long as you never stop believing in me."

"Never."

Draco kissed her quickly before sliding the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Hermione glanced down to get a better look. It was a pear-shaped emerald with a diamond halo, about the same size as the ruby on her right hand.

"Blood segregation in my family began with Nicholas Malfoy," Draco explained. "This is the ring he gave to his wife and I thought it would be ironic and a nice way to fuck him from the grave if I were to give it to you."

"Beautiful and spiteful," Hermione smiled, "I love it."

"Well, it is also one of our smaller pieces and I know you would not like things on your hands that may interfere with your work, so—"

Hermione pulled him down into a kiss. They snogged like that for a moment, like their first kiss all over again. It was simple and nice until Draco's fingers found their way beneath Hermione's blouse and he started counting up her ribcage.

"You're so thoughtful," she said, a little breathless. "You say you are lucky to have me, but I am just as fortunate to have you."

Draco smiled and teased, "You did not need to say that. I was going to shag you anyway but I accept the compliment."

"Well, everyone is away …" Hermione said lecherously. "And you know what that means."

Draco replied, "No reason to lock the door."

.oOo.

They waited outside MACUSA headquarters on June 11th. Draco was nervous. He did not say anything aloud to give Hermione that impression, but some things never change. Ruffling anxiously through his hair and cracking his knuckles every time his mind wandered were clue enough.

Queenie walked out of the doors at noon. Her curls were longer and tangled, but it was definitely Queenie Picquery. She caught sight of Draco and ran down the steps before pulling Draco into a tight hug.

"They said somebody was here to see me, but I never thought it'd be you!"

Draco wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders and Hermione fiddled with her engagement ring.

"Of course it is me," he said. "We are friends, Queenie, and friends get second chances."

"I don't deserve one," she insisted. "But I'm not gonna kick it to the curb, either." She pulled back and wiped her eyes. She turned to Hermione and asked, "And you brought your girlfriend?"

"Fiancée," Draco corrected. Hermione held up her hand to show Queenie the ring. Whatever Hermione expected, it certainly wasn't a hug.

"Oh, God, you really are gonna get your real family, aren't you?!" Queenie asked. "I am so sorry we nearly took it away from you. You both deserve happiness and I just … I'm so fucking happy you're gonna get it."

She stepped back and Hermione took the time to really look at her. Her hair was limp and probably hadn't been conditioned in years, but otherwise she looked much better than expected. There was colour in her cheeks and no circles beneath her eyes. She smiled and it was genuine. Hermione had never seen this side to Queenie Picquery before and immediately understood how Draco befriended her.

"You look excellent, considering … everything," Hermione said. Queenie beamed.

"Of course! I have been looking forward to this day. It is the first real freedom I've had in fifteen years."

Wow.

Queenie took stock of their outfits: Yankees jerseys, jeans, and ballcaps.

"Are you trying to blend in?"

"Actually, Hermione and I were just about to catch a game," Draco said.

"Oh," Queenie said, remorseful. "Well, have fun. It is the best place in the city."

Hermione held up a plastic bag and said, "We have three seats." Queenie's eyes widened as she hesitantly took the bag and looked inside. She squealed.

"NO WAY!"

"Look, Queenie," Draco said. "No one wants you to be free. You are going to spend every waking moment earning the world's trust again. You can have every war hero vouch for you and, trust me on this, it will not be enough. People will be absolute shit to you and you have to take it sometimes because that is the price of your actions. But at the end of the day, you are free and I am your friend. So I want to give you at least one good day."

Queenie cried. Not subtle, small tears trailing their way down her face. This was ugly, uncontrollable sobbing. Her face became red and splotchy as she sat down on the steps, plastic bag in hand. She pulled out the navy ballcap to hide her face.

"I don't deserve it, Draco. I can't believe y-you came all the way over here just to take me to a fucking baseball game," she said with a hiccup.

"I came here to help my friend," Draco said. "I brought Hermione because you need to see that you are worthy of more love than Jace ever gave you. If I can earn her trust then you can get the love you deserve, too."

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading. We have one chapter plus the epilogue to go.