Word count: 2699


i.

Draco Malfoy looks absolutely broken and helpless as he kneels beside his parents' bodies. Even among the chaos that comes from Voldemort's victory and Harry's death, even as there are cheerful cries mingling with panicked sobs, even as figures blur past him this way and that, Kingsley still sees Draco, and he knows he has to do something.

Wand raised and countering the stray spells that come his way, Kingsley marches over, casting a quick Shielding Charm. He thrusts out a hand. "Come with me."

Draco doesn't reach for his hand. Aside from his eyes flickering briefly to Kingsley then back to his parents, Draco gives no indication that he's heard him at all.

"Wasn't a suggestion," Kingsley says, gripping the younger man's shoulder.

"Wait! I can't leave them!" Draco insists.

Kingsley stares at the bodies of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. He doesn't feel anything for Lucius, but Narcissa hadn't been so bad; he thinks, under the right circumstances, she could have even been good. "We'll bring them too."

It isn't practical, and he knows it. Still, how can he say no? Draco Malfoy has made some mistakes, but Dumbledore had believed he is within the realm of redemption. Why not give him that chance?

The hideout is not as full as Kingsley would have hoped. Molly Weasley sits with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, the four of them pale with shock; Kingsley imagines it must be the most difficult for them. Andromeda stands in the kitchen, watching a kettle on the stove as Minerva prepares a tray of biscuits. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood sit with two girls donning Slytherin ties; Kingsley recognizes them as the Greengrass sisters. The room is dead silent, and the air feels so heavy.

"Is this all of us so far?" Kingsley has to add so far because he has to have hope that others are out there.

Every head snaps up in his direction. Ron is on his feet first, wand raised. "What's he doing here?" he demands

"Kindly put that away, Mr. Weasley," Minerva says, her tone sharp and stern, like she's standing in front of a class and lecturing. When Ron grudgingly returns his wand to his pocket, Minerva turns her attention to Kingsley, then to the two bodies he and Draco brought with them. "Poor dears. Lucius was quite good at Transfiguration."

Andromeda stands in the doorway, her eyes upon her dead sister. She doesn't speak, but Kingsley can see so many emotions flashing across her face, and he wonders if bringing them had been a mistake.

"I'll bury them," Kingsley says.

Draco joins him, but he doesn't speak. He works side by side with Kingsley, casting spells to dig the holes.

"I'm sorry," Kingsley says softly.

Draco still remains silent. He grabs his father's ankles, and Kingsley takes Lucius' wrists. They work together to get him into the first hole, then Narcissa into the next.

"I lost my parents too, before the war," Kingsley tells him. "Why did the Dark Lord kill yours?"

The younger man doesn't answer. With a heavy sigh, he covers the graves with dirt before looking at Kingsley. "What am I?" he asks. "Your prisoner?"

"We don't take prisoners," Kingsley answers. "I'm going to need your wand, though."

"Right. Because that makes me feel like I'm welcome." With a roll of his eyes, Draco hands the wand over. "It's my mother's. See that nothing happens to it."

Draco sits alone. Kingsley watches as the younger Greengrass girl, Astoria, according to Minerva, tries to engage with him, but Draco shuts her down.

"Why did you bring him?" Andromeda asks, dusting crumbs from her shirt.

"We're not leaving anyone behind," Kingsley answers, stirring sugar into his tea. "I told up I that. Before all of this started."

"Yes," Molly agrees, "but he is hardly one of ours."

Ours. Maybe not. But Draco also doesn't quite feel like one of theirs either.

"Why did the Dark Lord kill Lucius and Narcissa?" Kingsley asks. "It wasn't that he sacrificed them, but he killed them outright. That has to mean something."

"The boy isn't without hope," Minerva says. "We will have to keep an eye on him, however. I'm not sure how much I trust him."

"I can do that," Kingsley assures her.

Kingsley ends up in a room with Draco. It is small and cramped with two beds shoved against the walls and little room to walk. Draco still doesn't speak. Kingsley wonders if the trauma has taken his voice, but he doesn't ask.

"Take whichever one you like," Kingsley says.

Draco sits at the one beside the window. He leans against the wall, pale eyes fixed upon the moon beyond the glass.

Kingsley climbs into his bed, pulling his shoes and socks off. He wants nothing more than to submerge himself in a hot bubble bath and call it a night, but there's a queue for both bathrooms in the place, and he doesn't feel like waiting tonight. Maybe he'll have better luck in the morning.

"I thought I found a way out." Draco speaks so softly that Kingsley almost thinks he's imagined it. "I was wrong."

"What do you mean?"

Draco wraps the blanket around him, bringing his knees to his chest. It's heartbreaking. The Malfoys have always been an arrogant family, and they've always had a regal air about them. Draco is pitiful, and his pain is written all over his face.

"Draco?"

But Draco doesn't want to talk anymore. He lies on his side, facing the wall. Whether he is trying to sleep, or just pretending, Kingsley can't be sure, but the message is clear: he has said all he has to say.

Silence hangs in the air, and it is so heavy that Kingsley feels like he is suffocating. With a wave of his wand, he extinguishes the lights in the room and curls up, facing the opposite wall. So many thoughts flood his mind without warning, and his head begins to hurt. Kingsley groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

He doesn't want to think about it all. There has been too much and loss, and they have all been left with more questions than answers.

Images flash across his closed eyes. Remus and Tonks, side by side in the corridor, never to wake again. Neville Longbottom helping Oliver Wood carry the body of what looked like a child through the wreckage. A girl left in a pool of blood, angry slashes across her throat and face, another of Greyback's victims.

He sits up, taking in a shaky breath. Maybe sleep isn't such a good idea.

ii.

"Harry would want us to fight," Ron says, holding Hermione's hand. "He… He dedicated all that time to defeating You-Know-Who."

Hermione nods. "It's the least we can do to honor his memory."

Those across the table nod their agreement. A few murmur their own little additions, but no one really seems to have anything to add. They will continue this fight because peace is not an option, and they refuse to live in fear.

Draco laughs. It isn't cruel laughter; there is no unkindness within the hollow, bitter sound. If anything, the sound is so close to a sob that Kingsley almost reaches out to comfort him, but he quickly thinks better of it.

"Something funny, Malfoy?" Ron snaps.

"We're already dead," Draco says, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. "Don't you idiots see that? It's over. He's won. What's the bloody point in fighting? We're dead."

Ron looks like he wants to punch Draco. Kingsley knows there has always been something of a feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys, and it seems to have worsened now that emotions are running high. Hermione places a calming hand on Ron's shoulder and whispers something too low for Kingsley to hear.

"When something is won, Mr. Malfoy," Minerva says, "it comes with sacrifice. We cannot expect to win this without sticking our necks on the line."

Draco doesn't say anything to that. He just folds his arms over his chest and closes his eyes like he can shut them all out.

"Are you sure it was wise to bring him here?" Andromeda asks as she and Kingsley walk the perimeter of their hideout.

"I couldn't just leave him," Kingsely says.

Truth be told, he doesn't know if it's wise. This could all be some elaborate ruse. Draco may wait until they're all comfortable before striking.

But maybe, and Kingsley thinks this is most likely, Draco is just as lost and broken as the rest of them. Maybe he just needs someone.

For some reason, Kingsley wants to be that someone.

"He's my family," Andromeda says. "Isn't that strange? Teddy lost his parents. He'll never get to meet his grandfather. But maybe, just maybe, he will have gained a cousin."

"I know you would rather trade Draco for Tonks."

"In a heartbeat." Andromeda offers him a sad smile. "But we don't get to choose who lives and dies. Merlin knows things would be much different if I could make that choice. All we can do is make the best of what we have."

Draco refuses to join them for meals. Molly leaves a plate at his door. It goes on like that for a week until Kingsley takes the plate.

"Let me," he says.

"If you want, dear."

Kingsley enters their room, holding the plate of chicken and potatoes. Draco sits on his bed, wearing a baggy Weasley jumper with a C on it.

"I never asked you to," Draco says when Kingsley sets the tray on Draco's mattress.

"To what? Bring you dinner?" Kingsley asks, tipping his head to the side, confused.

"You saved my life." Draco's voice is soft and so close to cracking with emotion. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"I know." Kingsley shrugs and starts for the door.. "Enjoy your dinner."

"Hey!"

Kingsley turns, brows raised. Draco stares at him, and there is something in his eyes, something that seems to be on the tip of his tongue that he is struggling to say. For several moments, Draco just opens his mouth wordlessly.

Finally, he clears his throat. "Can you let Mrs. Weasley know that I enjoy her cooking?"

"You can join us and tell her yourself."

Draco shakes his head and drops his gaze to his plate. He presses the fork against a potato wedge, mashing it absently. "I can't."

Kingsley doesn't believe that, but he doesn't press it. He steps out and closes the door behind him.

Kingsley can't remember the last time he managed to sleep through the night. Even before the battle at the school, he struggled.

He bolts upright, struggling to catch his breath, reaching out for someone who might comfort him. No one is there. He is alone in a room that is silent except for Draco's soft snores.

Kingsley rubs his temples like it's enough to wipe away the horrible things he sees whenever he closes his eyes. He checks his watch. Four in the morning isn't too early to start his day.

iii.

Hope slowly comes trickling in over the month following the war. Charlie Weasley manages to contact Molly and tell her that he is in Romania with others and waiting for instructions. Filius and Horace bring news from a safehouse in Glasgow which houses an additional seven survivors. Dean Thomas contacts Luna, and she brings him and Seamus in.

It isn't perfect, and it isn't enough to erase the damage that has been done. Still, for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Kingsley feels like maybe they still have a chance.

He's surprised to find Draco in the garden with Neville. For the most part, Draco has opted to stay in their room, keeping a careful distance from everyone else.

Kingsley steps at the edge of the garden, watching as Draco adds a head of cabbage to his basket. The younger man looks up and offers Kingsley a sheepish smile as he wipes sweat from his brow, leaving behind a smear of dirt.

"Father always told me that Herbology was a useless subject," he says. "I think I was always better with plants than I was with people. Besides, it goes hand-in-hand with Potions, don't you think?"

Kingsley nods. "I'm just glad to see you out," he tells him.

A soft pink stains Draco's pale skin. He looks down at his hands and picks at the dirt under his nails. "Why do you care so much?"

"Why did the Dark Lord kill your parents?"

Draco shrugs, but Kingsley can see it in his eyes. He has the answers that Kingsley is looking for.

Draco helps Molly in the kitchen. His movements are clumsy, but Molly is so patient as she teaches him. Kingsley stands in the doorway, smiling.

Draco is good with babies. Kingsley watches the younger man lifts Teddy and soothes the fussing baby, bouncing him gently.

"Hush, hush, baby love," Draco sings softly. "Look to the stars above."

"He looks so much like Cissa," Andromeda murmurs, appearing at Kingsley's side. There's a longing in her voice that makes Kingsley's chest ache.

"In the interest of total transparency," Minerva says as they walk along, reinforcing the protective wards around their base, "I worried that bringing Mr. Malfoy in would cause problems."

"You weren't the only one."

The corners of her lips quirk. "I am happy to not be right about this."

He chuckles. "That makes two of us."

iv.

Kingsley sits up, barely able to breathe. Cold sweat beads his forehead.

This time, he isn't alone. Draco is by his bed, reaching out and taking Kingsley's hand in the darkness. "I have nightmares too."

Kingsley swallows dryly, nodding. "I know. I hear you sometimes."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't." He chuckles. "I'm surprised I don't wake the entire house every night."

There's a silence between them. It isn't the same tense silence as in the beginning.

"Mother wanted out," Draco says. "She begged Father to change sides, said she would do it without him if she had to. I… I don't know what happened in the Forbidden Forest, only that the Dark Lord thought that Potter was dead, and that he killed my parents when he wasn't. It isn't too hard to connect the dots, I don't think."

"And what about you?"

"I wish I could claim that I supported her. Truth is… I didn't even know I was lost until you saved me. Dumbledore told me I still had a chance."

"You do."

More silence. Kingsley's heart beats painfully fast. He closes his eyes.

"Can I… This might be ridiculous, but can I sleep with you?" Draco asks, and he sounds so reluctant to admit that he is so vulnerable.

Kingsley shifts over, and Draco joins him, curling up beside him. It feels nice to have someone, to not be so alone.

"I've never been good with people," Draco says. "Father was. He could woo anyone he needed. Me? I just know how to pretend. But… I…"

Whatever he wants to say, he doesn't say it. Instead, he presses his lips to Kingsley's in a quick kiss.

"I'm not sure if I read your signals right," Draco admits.

Kingsley just smiles and pulls Draco close. He doesn't know what he wants, only that he hadn't saved Draco with romantic intentions. Maybe something changed, some great, almost imperceptible shift. All he knows is that it feels right, and he wants it to last.

Draco is awake before him. Kingsley is greeted by a smile when he wakes.

"Do you really think we have a chance?" Draco asks. "I always thought the Dark Lord was sure to win, but… I don't know. Your optimism is infectious."

"I think we can win this." Kingsley sits up. "There is definitely hope."

For the first time since the battle, he sees that the world isn't so dark and hopeless. This is a new beginning, a new chapter in their lives. There are so many possibilities before them, and he thinks that it is time to embrace them.