It was early morning, the sun had just begun to crest over the horizon, and a warm orange glow emanated throughout my study in Malfoy Manor. I sat in the wingback armchair and looked down at a photo in a newspaper clipping.

My eyes moved instantly to Hermione… on my arm in an emerald green gown, a Pansy original, laughing at something I'd just said to a guest. She wasn't just laughing; she was gazing up at me with a level of affection that had taken many years for me to fully get used to. The paper was seven years old, but looked as new as the day it had been delivered, thanks to a stasis charm I'd cast on it immediately after it had been delivered.

I wanted to remember that night as clearly as possible, because it'd been the one that had made everything feel real.

It had been one thing to be accepted, to be loved, by her individually, and another to be folded in to her friend group. It was quite another to publicly, definitively, and comfortably be seen together.

I'd been so entranced by the photo that I hadn't even heard her come in, and jumped slightly as she wrapped her arms around me. She laughed and squeezed me tighter.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

I smiled and leaned into her as she kissed my cheek.

"Can you believe this was seven years ago?" I said.

"Oh I know, it feels like yesterday and forever ago, all at once."

As she spoke, she released her hold on me and came around to sit across from me in the other wingback. I placed the clipping back into the folder I had pulled it from and set it on a side table.

"Feeling nostalgic, are we?" she said.

I looked down at the folder and then back up at her with a wry smile. "I sometimes feel the need to look back and count my blessings, is all."

"And how many did you count?" she said.

"They're countless," I said, holding steady eye contact with her, and noting that I could simply stare into her eyes for any extended period of time. Her gaze was, as ever, like sinking into a warm bed.

After some time, she spoke.

"I'm ready, Draco."

I stopped breathing, my mouth falling open slightly. She continued.

"I've been thinking and… the apothecary is so successful… we've had time to do so much of the traveling we'd planned… I've never been happier with my own job. I think it's time."

I knew what she was saying, but I had not expected it on this quite morning.

The question of when to have children had been shelved since our wedding three years prior. And suddenly, elation and terror filled me in equal measure. Before too long, I realized I was just staring, and not in the loving gaze kind of way. I shook myself.

"Sorry, I-" I said, with a laugh of disbelief. "I just-"

"You… still want to, right?" she said, and I realized with a start that I was causing some very undue discomfort. I stood quickly.

"Of course! Yes! I do! I'm just-" I broke off, an embarrassed smile taking me over. "Terrified?" I said with a laugh.

A huge grin broke across her face as she stood and took both of my hands in hers.

"Well that sounds rather appropriate," she said, and reached up onto her toes to place a soft kiss on my lips. I grabbed her and deepened the kiss, wrapping my arms under her and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around me and responded with equal fervor.

Eventually, she broke the kiss with a laugh. "Apparently, you want to start now?"

"Why waste time," I said breathlessly, kissing her again and walking over to the couch and laying down so that she was on top of me.

"Draco, my contraceptive potion from this month won't even have worn off yet!" she said as I removed her jumper and ran my hand down from her wrist to her stomach, gripping her waist and then moving to unbutton those muggle denims that always drove me insane.

I shrugged and said, "Practice." She laughed and bent forward to kiss me, deftly unbuttoning my shirt without having to look. We didn't speak much after that.

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Later that morning, I walked down the street in Diagon Alley, spotting the sign in the distance, wooden with gold lettering.

*The Half-Blood Prince Apothecary*

I hadn't previously known the origin of my God-father's pseudonym, but trust me when I say I was livid to discover that his old potions book had been the way Potter had bested me in sixth year. It was something Hermione and I bonded over hating him for. It was also the most fitting name any of us could imagine.

As I entered our shop, the bell over the door rang and I was greeted by none other than Theodore Nott, sitting behind the register with a boot up on the counter, a book in his hand, and a quill between his teeth. His hair was mussed and he looked something like a mad professor working out some impossible problem. When he saw me, he slammed his boot to the floor and stood.

"I think I've cracked it!"

I knew immediately what he was on about, and rolled my eyes. "Not this again."

"No wait!" he said, coming out from behind the counter. "Hear me out!"

I strode through the shop, on my way to the back office I shared with Potter, looking wholly uninterested in what he had to say. He continued to talk at me as I walked.

"The ashwinder eggs! We cull back that one ingredient and use a different element. I'm thinking the shedded skin of the snake. I've found a number of potions that use it as a substitute, resulting in a weaker version of the brew. It won't be amortentia, not really. It will simply make the drinker more suggestible to-"

"Nott," I said, turning to face him and causing him to nearly collide with me. "I feel it incumbent upon me to indicate to you that Angelina Johnson is now broken up with Fred Weasley, and absolutely interested in you. And if you could get your mind off of methods for manipulating her into such an interest, then perhaps you'd have noticed that on your own."

With that, I turned on my heel and continued toward the offices. He followed, looking aghast.

I greeted Potter as I entered the room and walked around to sit behind my desk. Theo stood in the doorway gaping at me.

"What this?" Potter asked, pointing a finger at Theo who was standing in the doorway with his mouth hanging open.

"I've just explained to him that Johnson wants to date him, and he's a bit gob smacked," I said, rifling through a stack of parchment.

"Ah," Potter said, and looked back down at his work as well.

"But this is amazing! I have to go and talk to her. Now!"

"No," Potter and I both said in unison.

"You'll finish your shift behind the till," I said.

"You don't want to seem too eager, mate," Potter added.

"Well, it's a bit late for that, don't you think?" I asked.

"Yeah true, but still. Give it a moment, Nott."

Nott nodded and mumbled, "Yea alright," as he backed out of the room.

Once he'd gone, Potter turned to me.

"Think he'll wait?"

"No, I'm just going to bring some of this out there and manage the till, I'm sure he's left already."

"Right," Potter said, "Let me know if you need a break."

I let out a grunt of acknowledgement as I left the office, and sure enough, found the shop empty.

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I had lunch plans with my mother at The Jobberknoll, which meant that I would pass by Pansy's shop on the way. I wasn't surprised to find mother standing outside of the shop having a chat with the witch herself. She was always hiring Pansy to create originals for her wardrobe. In fact, Pansy had mass produced a few under the moniker of "The Narcissa Collection" and it had become rather popular.

As I approached, they both turned to grin at me. It was a far too knowing grin, on both of them, and I stopped in my tracks, staring between the two.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"Oh nothing, Draco, dear. I promise, we are just happy to see you," my mother said, and then turned to smile even more broadly at Pansy, the two barely containing squeals of excitement.

Just then, Tracey burst out of the shop with a small piece of material in hand.

"I found it! Just a sample, but it's perfect. This is the fabric recommended for newborns."

She said all of it without noticing I was there, but once she did, her face broke into a similar smile. It all clicked together for me, only I was surprised that Hermione had said anything.

"Oh darling, before you go jumping to conclusions, you should know it was all Wumply's fault."

I blinked at her. "How-"

"He found her contraceptive potions in the trash, and he'd heard you going on about how costly the ingredients were, so he just assumed it had been an error and brought them to me."

"And now we all know! It's baby time!" Pansy cried, and began doing a little dance with Tracey, which my mother did not join in on.

I could not help but allow a foolish grin to come across my own face as I beheld the ridiculous scene in front of me. I looked particularly at my mother, who was smiling serenely back at me, and holding out her arms in invitation. I stepped forward and embraced her, and she whispered into my ear, "I am thrilled for you, my dear."

"We're not pregnant yet, mother," I mumbled back, feeling my fear return to the pit of my stomach.

She pulled back and looked me in the eyes. "Yes, but it's still a big step to try."

I let her words sink in. She was right about that. And in that moment, I gleaned a bit more insight into my fear. Here I was, wanting something again. I'd become more and more accustomed to it, but this one was big. To want a family. To become a father.

I pushed the thoughts away, thinking I'd save them for Michelle that afternoon.

Pansy and Tracey's dance had wound down, and I turned to them to say, "Alright well, please don't spread it around. And no actual making of baby clothes yet. At least wait until she's actually pregnant."

"Deal," Pansy said, "but that will not prevent me from designing to my heart's content!"

"See you, Narcissa!" Tracey said, as they retreated back into the shop.

My mother took my arm and said, "Shall we?"

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"So, how's business?" I asked after we'd finished our lunch.

Mother had hired a life coach named Alice shortly after the ball at the manor, on Michelle's recommendation. After a few years of charity work and investing in businesses like Pansy's, she realized that she instead wanted to become a coach herself. She'd joined the first ever cohort for coach training in the magical world, led by my coach and her team from the states, and found that it suited her very well.

Mother smiled broadly and said, "It's splendid. Oh, and do you know who reached out to me to learn more about coaching training?"

I cocked my head in response, and she said, "Prudence Parkinson."

My eyes went wide. "And did she also acknowledge the fact that she completely abandoned her daughter, leaving you to pick up the pieces?"

"We did have words about that, yes."

"And?"

Mother cocked an eyebrow at me as she said, "Well, naturally I referred her to a therapist. I was nicer than she likely deserved, but perhaps there is some hope for her after all. I believe she received all I had to say."

With that, she sipped her tea. I could tell she was proud of the way she'd handled it. If I'm honest, I don't think I would have done so with such grace. Briefly, I imagined a world in which Pansy's mother, and perhaps even her father, realized the error of their ways. I felt a deep yearning for it to be possible on Pansy's behalf, but I wasn't about to tell her and get her hopes up. Likely, it would take a while for the Parkinson's to have that particular breakthrough.

If ever.

Which brought my mind to a different subject.

"How's father?"

She put her teacup down and spoke without looking at me. "The same," she said, and brushed some crumbs into a small pile, which she then tapped with her wand to vanish them. She'd gained a funny habit of combining muggle and wizard techniques in her everyday tasks. Probably the result of spending so much time with muggles in coach training.

I was entranced by her movements for a beat before shaking myself and refocusing on the topic of my father. He'd developed an illness while in prison, and was eventually moved to St. Mungos under strict supervision. In the last year, his mind had become addled, and he was currently residing in the Janus Thickey Ward, nearby the Longbottoms.

My grief around it was extremely complex and convoluted. If I hadn't had my coach and therapist to process it all with, I'm not sure where I would be. And of course, my incredible wife, who had already had the experience of losing her own parents, so to speak.

I reached across the table and took my mother's hand, just as a tear dropped from her eye. I felt a hot prickle behind my own eyes, and knew the tears were inevitable. It would be fine, I told myself, to let them fall.

She squeezed my hand tight and looked up at me. "How is it possible to love and hate and feel sorry for someone at the same time?" she asked.

It hit me like a stunner to the chest. I knew exactly what she meant. We stared at one another through watery eyes, and it was a while before either of us said anything.

Finally, I replied, "Maybe it's all love. Just… a fucked up version of it."

She let out a small laugh and then nodded. "Yes but please watch your language, Draco."

I smiled as tears fell in earnest.

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"I cried at lunch with my mother."

Michelle raised her eyebrows in response, leaning forward in interest. I assumed her question and went on. "I asked about my father, and she said this thing… about loving and hating and feeling sorry for someone all at once."

"Mmm," Michelle said, nodding.

"And I don't know, I just… think that's love, you know? It's kind of fucked up."

She laughed at that. "I think you need that on a t-shirt."

"What, "love is kind of fucked up"? Yeah, it'll be a best seller, I can have my own rack at Pansy's."

After we both laughed a bit, she said, "What do you need around your father?"

I took a deep breath and really thought on it. I'd done a lot of processing in therapy already. Not that grief was ever truly "done," as I had learned, but I wasn't sure I needed to parse through it just then.

"Well… going back to the original conversation about becoming a father… I suppose that's where some of my fear is stemming from."

She said nothing, and I was extremely used to being given space to process without needing to be prodded, so I found comfort in the silence.

"I feel this really strong urge to make sure that I'm not… that as a father I… don't become like him. And I know, that's obvious. I mean, I don't think I'm in danger of becoming a devoted follower of a dark magical megalomaniac, but…"

"Who do you want to be as a father?"

I knew the question was coming, but it felt nice to be asked.

I took a breath and navigated my thoughts away from the past. I was good at this now.

"I want my child to trust me. I want them to feel loved and accepted, but also challenged and believed in."

After some time, she asked, "And so who do you need to be to create that?"

Again, I thought for a long while. I imagined scenes that were beginning to seem more and more possible. More and more real. I saw myself with Hermione, handling all manner of parental responsibilities. I saw us comforting one another, comforting our child. Working together to make decisions. I felt excitement for the challenge begin to grow inside me. I saw all the ways I would need to be. Calm, assertive, loving, and above all else, happy with myself and my life. Not needing to live through my child. Having so much space for them to become whoever they would be.

Finally, I looked up at my coach, smiled and said, "Myself. I'd need to be myself."

A/N: Huge gigantic super THANK YOU to littletheorist (on A03) for the alpha AND beta support for this. I couldn't have done it without you!

Thank you also to my life coaching colleagues who crossover into fanfiction land to cheer me on: Mark Hunter, Melanie Paez, Sarah Olin, Mick Carbo, Tara Carbo, Christina Stathopoulos and Alice Petzold.

And thanks to Christine Sachs, also a brilliant Master Certified Coach, who is always an unofficial alpha on my fics, but helped this one especially by redirecting my own coaching of Draco to better represent our profession.

And for anyone who does not realize: I am Michelle Akin, the coach in the story. I had a fantasy of being able to coach Draco Malfoy, so I wrote it. Pretty much everything he goes through in this fic is my own experience of taking on coaching, though I was a fair bit nicer to my first coach ;-)

Finally, if you have any interest after reading this, in either having or being a coach, feel free to reach out to me. I love supporting people on that journey.

Thank you for joining me on this one! 3 3 3