Songs - The Subterranean Heart by Mount Alaska, Love We Found by Bob Moses, and No Ordinary by Labrinth
Chapter 30: No Ordinary Love
Theo had never put much thought into how he would die. But at the height of the war, when it hadn't been clear who would win or how, he had clung desperately to the hope that his death would be quick and painless, that someone, and he really hadn't cared who or what side they belonged to, would take pity on him so that he didn't have to pick up the bloody pieces his father was scattering across the countryside.
When the light had prevailed, he realized it would be futile to continue hoping for an easy way out. The good guys didn't play that way. They didn't hold a son responsible for the sins of a father – at least not in the way that was particularly useful for him – and so he had simply done his best to deal with his new reality, going back to how it had been before, living life, if you could call it that, with little regard for how it would end.
He figured it was better to be surprised anyways.
And when the day finally came, he certainly hadn't been disappointed.
His death had by no means been an accident; it hadn't even, depending on the time frame one viewed it from, been wholly unexpected either. It hadn't been fast or particularly peaceful, but as it turns out, the funny thing about being tortured by a madman is that the end result is an incredibly predictable one. And yet, despite all of the evidence to the contrary, his death had still been quite the surprise. It's just that the surprise wasn't so much in the specifics of how it had happened; it was in the why.
In a traditional, sacred twenty-eight kind of way, Theo always had a family, but in reality, he spent most of his life alone. His mother died shortly after his birth, driven mad by his father, or so it was rumored, whose capacity for hatred and depravity was surpassed only by his aversion to love and kindness. Of course, his father, as insane as he was, blamed him, an infant without a name, and if one of his father's house elves hadn't intervened, there might not have been a Theo at all. Not that he thought his life was preferable to whatever waited for him beyond the veil because, if he was being totally honest, there was precious little to look forward to when he was young.
It was a terrifying upbringing, and Theo learned quickly that he couldn't rely on anyone but himself. Most days, he tried to avoid his father lest he end up on the receiving end of one of dear-old-dad's alcohol fueled rages, but more often than not, his avoidance just made the beatings worse. There was no father/son bonding, no real relationship of any kind, and there certainly wasn't an inkling of anything other than mutual hate. If Theo needed anything, if he was hungry or if he was sick, he had to do it himself, had to take care of himself, because no one was going to do it for him. And he did it all while living with a man whose fuse was so temperamental that he was ever sure when it would blow. It wasn't a particularly happy environment for a child to thrive in, and by anyone's standards, he was forced to grow up far too quickly, but he didn't know any better. He had no idea that it shouldn't have been like that, no one to tell him that life could be and should be better than it was.
But then he met Draco, and the fucker had been so happy and perfect, so obviously spoiled and loved by his parents, and it had made Theo angry beyond words. He had wanted to punch the blond in his stupid little face simply to show him that life wasn't all sunshine and roses, but when they finally had been left alone outside, Theo found that he couldn't do it.
"You're Theodore," Draco had announced with an air of authority, smiling as if they were already the best of friends.
"Yes," Theo mumbled in reply, awkwardly brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "You can call me Theo, though."
"Theo," Draco repeated. "I'm Draco," he added, extending his hand.
It seemed a rather adult thing to do, and Theo stared at Draco's outstretched hand for a moment, slightly confused, before returning the gesture.
"Father says you don't have any siblings," Draco continued, his eyes flickering away only for the briefest of moments before returning to look at Theo with an obvious sadness, "and that your mother died a long time ago."
Theo simply nodded in response, not entirely sure what to say.
"I don't have any siblings either," Draco revealed, his smile fading somewhat. "We could be brothers… you know, for pretend…. if you want." The authority in his voice was gone, replaced instead with nervousness and vulnerability, and Theo wasn't sure what to do with that.
"It's okay if you don't want to," Draco said quietly when Theo didn't respond, clearly a bit bothered by his silence.
But Theo did want to. He was just a little dumbstruck. He had always wanted a brother; hell, he would have taken a friend of any kind. He only hesitated because this was all so unexpected. They had never met before; he didn't even know anything about the blond standing in front of him other than the fact that their parents knew each other from 'work'. How could Draco be so sure they'd get along?
"I'd like that," Theo replied finally, and Draco had smiled.
And that had been the start of that.
Theo had always wondered if Lucius and Narcissa had put Draco up to it – his father's abuse was certainly no secret – but in the end, it didn't really matter. Theo and Draco became practically inseparable, and by the time they got to Hogwarts, Draco was, for all intents and purposes, the only real family Theo ever had.
Unfortunately, family had a nasty habit of letting him down, and so when Draco had disappeared after the war, leaving him to pick up the pieces on his own, Theo had simply pretended as if nothing was wrong, as if he wasn't actually hurt by the sudden and monumental loss. He had survived without Draco before, and he would do it again. He certainly didn't blame Draco – how could he? Draco had simply done the thing that most of their friends had talked about at the beginning of the war but none of the rest of them had the actual courage to do when it was finally over. Draco had left so he could live, and Theo could at least, whether he liked being left behind or not, understand that need to run from the things that shackled him to the past.
When Draco resurfaced, Theo thought things would finally return to normal, that the two of them would resume their friendship as if no time had passed at all, but Draco never reached out, and neither did Theo, and so they remained as separated as they had been immediately after the war. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't hurt – and he was, very much so, hurt that Draco hadn't even bothered to send him an owl – so he had done the only thing he could think of to deal; he buried the pain and tried to move on. But Draco was everywhere. The hate that the papers spewed about the former Death Eater quickly turned to love, and before Theo could recover from the whiplash, Draco was making a name for himself as the Ministry's newest golden boy, and Theo was relegated to the sidelines just like everyone else.
It seemed, much to Theo's dismay, that they were destined to live the rest of their lives as strangers.
But then, rather unexpectedly, after nearly a decade of separation, Draco had come barreling back into Theo's life, dragging Gryffindor's princess and all of their problems with him. And yes, maybe he should have made Draco work a little harder to earn his forgiveness, but the truth was, Theo couldn't even pretend that he hadn't been excited the moment he saw Draco standing uncomfortably in the middle of Malfoy Manor the night of the banquet. He finally had the opportunity to get his friend back, and hurt or not at what had or had not happened since the end of the war, he had jumped at the chance, forgiving Draco for everything before he had even finished emerging from the crowd to say hello.
You see, love made people do funny things. And Theo loved Draco like the brother he never had.
So when shit really hit the fan, and Theo was sure he'd lost Draco yet again, he decided to make an effort to get to know the other people Draco loved. Narcissa had been easy; she had always cared for Theo, especially when he was younger and things were bad for him at home, and so resuming where they had left off had been natural. Hermione had been a little harder to crack, but when he finally managed to penetrate the walls she had thrown up to protect herself, he found that he cared for her as much as, and possibly more than he ever cared for Draco. Harry was another thing entirely, and even in death, Theo still wasn't sure what familial analogy to use for him, crazy cousin perhaps, but he too quickly became an important part of Theo's life, another piece of the puzzle. Even Lucius, who was arguably the most bloody difficult wizard in all of Britain, came to occupy a special place in his heart.
Whether Theo realized it at the time or not, he was building something important from the only loving relationship that he'd ever had.
And then Hermione had told him that she was pregnant, and in that moment, he knew he would do anything to protect her, to protect them all. He had finally found the family that he had so desperately needed as a child, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to any of them.
It turns out that family, even a chosen one like Theo's, was a perfectly commendable thing to die for. And he happily gave them everything he had.
His life.
Which in retrospect, seemed like such a strange thing to have ever worried about.
In life, death always felt so morbid, but in death, death just felt like the logical next step, a natural progression from one state to another. And for Theo, it was the perfect opportunity to learn something new about himself.
He had always joked that he wasn't built to be a hero, that he wasn't born to save the world or any of the people in it, and yet his death had meant something, had purpose beyond himself. He hadn't died hiding away from the world like he thought he would. He hadn't died angry at it for treating him so unkindly for so long. He had died trying to protect the people – yes, plural – that he loved. His death, rather ironically for someone as averse to the hero thing as he was, had been for a greater good.
Or at least he hoped. Wherever he was now, he couldn't tell if they had won or not.
The afterlife was yet another thing Theo had never given much thought. He had always been intrigued by the idea of Heaven and Hell, but the dichotomy always felt false, completely impractical for a world of people filled with complicated emotions and beliefs. And he, like so many others, was a perfect example of someone who didn't fit neatly into one of the two boxes: too cowardly and morose to be welcomed into the golden gates above but not quite wicked enough to be subjected to an eternity of suffering behind the fiery gates below. He was someone who had spent most of his life living right on the edge of indifference, and he had come to believe that when it was finally over, his reward would be that he'd simply just stop being.
And yet, here he was… still thinking, still mulling over every minute detail of his life.
Strange.
He almost felt…
"Theo?"
Wherever he was, it was dark, but he knew he wasn't imagining things. Someone, or something, had definitely just called his name. Perhaps he'd made it past one of the gates after all. Of the two, Hell seemed the most likely.
"Theo, can you hear me?"
There it was again – his name. And was that concern? He didn't think demons were capable of such an emotion. Come to think of it, he didn't feel particularly warm either. Weren't there supposed to be flames and shit?
Eager to solve the mystery, he moved his eyes, searching for anything that would tell him where he was, and realized that it wasn't actually dark, his eyes were just closed. Slowly, he pried them open, fighting against the invisible weight that seemed to have locked them shut in the first place. And when he finally managed to peak through his lashes, he was attacked by a blinding, white light.
"What the fuck?" he said, his voice rough.
This had to be some kind of sick joke. There was no way he had finagled his way into Heaven. Someone had obviously made a grave, horrible mistake.
Theo turned his head, blinking as he tried to shy away from the light above him, and caught sight of a figure sitting next to him whose skin was fucking glowing. Glowing.
"Oh, bollocks," he mumbled.
There was a fucking angel next to him. Someone was definitely going to lose their wings for this.
"I think you've made a mistake," he croaked quietly, his throat too dry to manage anything louder. "I definitely don't belong here."
"Rather we left you for dead, do you?" came the reply, followed by a familiar chuckle.
Oh, fuck. He knew that voice.
"Draco?" Theo said, his eyes locked on what he assumed was a hand.
"Yes, you fucking tosser," the voice replied, and the hand moved. "My eyes are up here by the way."
Theo blinked again, trying to focus as another chuckle violated his eardrums. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, confused as to what was so funny. "You were supposed to survive."
"Oh, wonderful," the voice mused. "As if you weren't insufferable enough before. Now we're all going to have to put up with whatever delusion this is."
"Aren't we–?" But Theo stopped.
The area around him suddenly came into sharp focus, and he realized, rather embarrassingly, that he wasn't in Heaven at all. The bright light above him wasn't the light people ran towards after their demise; it was simply a collection of horrendously harsh ceiling lights. The person next to him wasn't actually glowing; he was just pale as fuck. In fact, Theo was pretty damn sure, despite being convinced of the opposite a moment ago, that he wasn't even remotely dead.
The clues were certainly there, he had just been a little too preoccupied contemplating the meaning of life and death – his life and his death – to notice them. He was breathing, although rather annoyingly, each breath was accompanied by an excruciating amount of pain. He could feel the heavy thuds of what he assumed to be a fully functioning heart below his chest, one he hoped wouldn't give out on him the moment he sat up. His mouth was dry, but he could taste something that reminded him of blood, or more accurately, something that was most definitely blood, and he swallowed heavily, suddenly remembering the thing that he'd much rather forget.
Theo glanced up at the man next to him, something snippy about living on the edge perched on the edge of his tongue but thought better of it when he took note of the man's appearance. Draco, and Theo had indeed confirmed it was in fact him, looked, for lack of a better word, drained, almost as if he hadn't slept or eaten for days – and knowing Draco's knack for punishing himself when things went wrong, he probably hadn't. There were dark circles under his eyes, and although he was smiling, Theo could see an obvious pain behind his eyes. His shoulders were hunched, not so much in defeat but definitely in some sort of resignation, and his hands were digging into the top of his knees.
"You look fucking horrible," Theo noted finally, hoping to lighten the mood.
"Thank you," Draco replied, his eyes glazing over slightly despite offering Theo a small smile. "Welcome back to reality, by the way. Almost thought you had gone totally bonkers."
"Bonkers suits me," Theo replied before attempting to push himself into a sitting position, groaning as he felt bone grinding against bone (which he was pretty sure was not a terribly wonderful sign).
Draco rushed to Theo's side, placing a hand on his shoulders to help steady his movement, and Theo, despite hating when people did things for him, simply let Draco help.
"Easy," Draco said softly, quickly moving a few pillows behind Theo's back to help stabilize him.
Theo tried not to wince, but the pain seemed to have magnified now that he was fully awake, and he couldn't help but grimace as he settled back against the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed.
"I suppose I have you to thank for this," Theo said after a moment, smiling weakly.
"What, you mean being alive?" Draco replied, raising an eyebrow as he sat back into the chair next to the bed.
"No, I mean being stuck in whatever looney bin this is," Theo told him sarcastically. "Of course, I mean me being alive. I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want anyone risking their life to save me if it came to that."
Draco looked down for a moment, and Theo caught a slight tremble in his friend's hands before speaking again. "Theo," Draco choked out finally, his voice almost a whisper. "I couldn't just– I couldn't fucking just let you to die."
Theo watched as Draco bit down on his lip. "Please tell me no one got hurt."
Draco didn't reply right away, and Theo could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. "We're all fine," Draco promised him.
"But?" Theo prompted, have caught the nervousness in Draco's voice.
"It's a bit complicated," Draco replied, unable to look his friend directly in the eyes.
"Well, un-complicate it," Theo demanded a bit more harshly than he intended.
Draco exhaled deeply, letting out his breath slowly before fixing his gaze on Theo, his eyes swirling with something Theo couldn't place.
"While we were fighting the Aescling at the Manor, Hermione went into labor," he began, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "When we were forced to leave you behind, I lost control of myself and my emotions leaked through our bond," he paused, swallowing heavily. "She collapsed – she thought something had happened to me, and after being forced to leave us at the Manor, not knowing when she'd see me again, the shock of it was too much for her. She started hemorrhaging," Draco paused again, seemingly struggling with something, and Theo, despite the stinging in his eyes, tried to keep his face as impassive as possible. "She almost died," he managed after a moment, looking down as his hands, "but my aunt, Andromeda, managed to stop the bleeding, and well… when Hermione woke up she had inherited some sort of–"
"Fucking hell, Draco," Theo said frantically, interrupting before Draco could finish. "You can't just tell me Hermione went into labor, almost died, and not tell me if the baby survived or not."
Draco looked up again, his eyes a little red. "He survived," he confirmed, forcing out a smile as Theo shot him an 'I told you it was a boy' glance. "It wasn't exactly the most peaceful birth, but he's certainly a fighter. We named him Scorpius–"
"Of course you went with Scorpius," Theo lamented, cutting Draco off again. "Do you always have to be so damn predictable?"
Draco brought a hand to his temple, shaking his head as he buried his fingertips in his platinum hair. "If you would have just let me finish," he began, chuckling softly. "His full name is Scorpius Theodore Malfoy, you ungrateful arse."
For what was probably the first time in his life, Theo opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was speechless – actually fucking speechless – and wasn't even sure what to say.
"We thought we had lost you," Draco explained, filling the silence. "Hermione and I both wanted to honor the sacrifice you made for our family." He stopped, watching with amusement as Theo finally shut his mouth. "You're welcome, by the way."
"You're welcome?" Theo repeated, finally coming back to himself. "You're welcome for what? Debasing my name by sandwiching it between Scorpius and Malfoy?!"
"Hermione said you say that," Draco told him, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter.
And even despite the pain, Theo couldn't keep a straight face any longer. He threw his head back and laughed, not even bothering to wipe the tears falling from the corner of his eyes.
"I hate you," Theo managed in between breaths.
"No you don't," Draco retorted. "You couldn't possibly hate the father of your godchild."
Theo nearly choked when the words left Draco's mouth. The name was one thing, but being told he had beat out Harry fucking Potter as godfather… well, he really ought to try out the hero thing a bit more often.
"And how did Saint Potter take the news?" Theo asked inquisitively. "Please tell me there were tears."
"Oh, it was actually his idea," Draco said, waving a hand in the air. "Although, he made me swear on my crown jewels that he gets to be godfather to the rest of my spawn."
"I knew he'd play dirty if he got the chance," Theo murmured. "But fine, I'll still put him to godfather shame. Scorpius won't know what's hit him."
Draco laughed again, and Theo couldn't help but notice that his friend finally looked a little calmer.
"Alright, so Hermione almost died giving birth to your son, whom you smartly named after your favorite person in the whole wide world," Theo said, impatient, despite enjoying the conversation, to understand what had happened. "Is that the whole story or is there something else you're not telling me?"
The seriousness quickly returned to Draco's face, and for a moment Theo wished they could just go back to the laughing. "No, there's quite a bit more," Draco began again. "Scorpius' birth wasn't just dramatic because of the timing or trauma – it was also accompanied by something a bit unexpected. In the middle of the whole ordeal, Hermione was gifted with a power," Draco paused, searching for understanding in Theo's face. "A Norse power."
Of fucking course she was, Theo thought. He had known as soon as their bond had exploded they way that it had that something deeper was going on, they all had, but as wild as his own imagination was, he hadn't really expected to be told that Hermione was now some powerful Norse mage.
Although, in retrospect, it made a hell of a lot of sense.
"I leave you two alone for two minutes…" Theo said, shaking his head. "So, she really is descended from some ancient Norse mage then?"
"Not exactly," Draco replied, shifting nervously in his seat. "The power is passed from parent to child when the child becomes a parent, but the Aescling spent his entire life refusing to hand over his power. The lineage latched on to Hermione after he murdered one of his children in the same muggle hospital she was born in. Fortunately for all of us, he lost his power when Scorpius was born even despite there being no real blood relation."
"Well, we always knew he wasn't the most pleasant of individuals," Theo offered. "But why her?"
"I think that's something I'll let her try to explain," Draco told him, smiling weakly. "Dumbledore knew," he added quietly. "He knew and he never told her."
"Merlin," Theo breathed. "You could fill Hogwarts with the number of secrets that man collected and hid from the world over his lifetime."
"Definitely won't argue with that," Draco replied, a hint of sadness in his voice.
"So, you have a son and Hermione is now some sort of Viking warrior, is that all?" Theo asked, knowing it wasn't.
Draco shook his head. "Once Hermione recovered, she left to find the Aescling on her own. Along the way, she ended up making contact with some of the ancestors, and they led her to where he was hiding," he said, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans. "One of those ancestors – a talkative little fucker who reminds me entirely too much of you, by the way – managed to make his way into my head and directed me to the same place. I took Harry, and we found you chained up in the basement. It was–" He cringed. "Well, I suppose you have some idea what kind of state you were in, so forgive me if I don't elaborate."
Theo nodded, trying to ignore the bile rising in his throat.
"I had to borrow some of Hermione's magic to save you," Draco continued, pausing to take another deep breath. "She was in the middle of fighting the Aescling, and he…" He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment as if to steady himself. "He almost managed to kill her while I was trying to heal you."
Theo shook his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "You did the one thing I explicitly told you not to do."
"She insisted she had it under control," Draco told him sadly, dropping his gaze to his lap, "but you're not wrong to be angry with me. I'm angry with me. It was much too close a call."
Theo could see the tension in Draco's body and decided, at least for the moment, that Draco didn't need someone else to add to the pile of guilt he was clearly already struggling with.
"So, he's dead then?" Theo asked, knowing Draco probably wouldn't be here if he wasn't.
Draco lifted his eyes and nodded. "She killed him," he said. "She didn't even have her power, and she fucking killed him."
Theo sank further back into the pillows and let out a sigh of relief as he threw his head back against the wall behind him. "Thank fuck for that."
"Yes," Draco agreed.
It was then, when Theo tried to lift his arm to brush the strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes, that he noticed his right arm was wrapped in a large bandage. He stared at it curiously for a moment, recognizing almost immediately that something was a little off, and swallowed heavily as he moved his left hand over the arm. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he couldn't quite place, but when his left hand reached the spot where his right hand should be, and he found nothing, it all came rushing back.
Draco cleared his throat nervously.
"Alright," Theo began, rolling his eyes dramatically as he used his left arm to lift his right into the air, "who the fuck misplaced my hand?"
The door to the room swung open, and Theo froze, the nub at the end of his arm extended outward in front of him.
"Uhhh," Dean said, looking awkwardly between Theo (and his outstretched nub) and an extremely pale Draco. "Bad time?"
Hermione watched, smiling with amusement as Draco carried Scorpius to the edge of the lake, talking and pointing to things as if their son could understand any of it. Scorpius, bless his little heart, simply gawked at his father, his mouth puckered into one of the many signature Malfoy scowls before his eyes fluttered shut. It took Draco a few moments to realize that he had managed to bore their son to sleep, but when he did, he moved the hand he had been gesturing wildly with to Scorpius' back and bent to kiss the top of his head.
And Hermione couldn't help but laugh at how fucking perfect and beautiful the scene in front of her was.
It didn't matter that there had been a multitude of moments like this since they had returned to the Manor; a warmth still radiated across her body every single time. There was no more running, no more hiding. They were finally safe. She could finally breathe.
Draco turned and waved, a few strands of platinum hair falling over his forehead in the breeze, and Hermione's chest tightened as they locked eyes, the cool steel of his own catching and reeling her in so tightly that she couldn't have looked away even if she wanted to. His gaze was still as piercing and unnerving as it had been when she had woken up hungover in his bed, but she had grown fond of the feeling of losing herself in it, especially now when his infatuation with her was so clear and visible beneath the storm. He loved her deeply, and she loved him so fucking much that it hurt, not caring in the slightest how cliche it sounded.
She continued to watch even after he looked away, returning his attention to the baby that was stirring slightly in his arms. Draco bounced slightly up and down, pausing every once in a while to whisper something in Scorpius' ear, and Hermione's heart melted even further than it already had. This – being here at this very moment to witness something that was both so normal and extraordinarily special – meant more than she'd ever be able to articulate. Draco was alive. Scorpius was alive. And she was still here for all of it.
She couldn't stop staring.
Sometimes, she was afraid if she looked away, that Draco would disappear forever, that their son, whom both of them already loved more than anything in the world, would cease to exist. And this time, it hit her like a freight train, nearly knocking the breath out of her. She tried to smile through the shock, resisting the urge to cling helplessly to her chest, but the bond made it easy for Draco to sense that something was wrong, and before she could tell him she was fine, that she just needed a second, he had turned around, rubbing Scorpius' back as he strode quickly toward her across the lawn.
"It appears that I'm turning into my father," Draco said as he placed Scorpius in his bouncer and plopped down next to Hermione, whose panic immediately eased.
She chuckled softly and waved her hand to start the vibration on the small chair, watching as their son's eyes blinked open for a fraction of a second before closing in exhausted contentment.
"And you're just now figuring that out?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow in jest.
A low groan emanated from Draco's throat, as if he couldn't believe she had just said that, but when the sound stopped, he simply shifted his body so that he could look at her more directly.
"What's wrong?" he asked, studying her with such an intensity that she thought he might pass out from the effort.
Hermione, having just realized she was chewing anxiously at her lower lip, released it quickly. "Just the usual worrying," she offered, cringing inwardly at her half-arsed lie. "Nothing you need to be concerned about," she tried to assure him.
But she could sense that, one, Draco definitely didn't believe there was anything usual about her worrying, and two, he most definitely was concerned about it.
"I know Thyra and the others will be there to help me learn to control this," she began before he could tell her all the ways her worrying wouldn't help. "But I– I'm still scared that I'm going to hurt you, that something will happen, and I'll lose both of you."
"I'm not going anywhere," Draco promised her, letting out a breath as he buried a hand in her curls. "And neither is Scorp."
"How can you possibly know that?" Hermione mumbled in reply, her eyes flickering over to their son.
Draco pulled her closer. "Trust me, I know," he said quietly.
Instead of answering, she tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder, her mind still racing.
The ancestors had, temporarily, vacated their minds, giving them the space that they needed to process what had just happened without the addition of four other opinions, and Hermione was thankful for it. Before leaving, Thyra had created a door of sorts next to the bridge in the back of Hermione's mind, one that Thyra assured her, when opened, would signal for them to return. It was a relief to know they were close if she needed them, but she also knew she needed to work through her new fears before she let them back in.
Her fears weren't so little though, and they wouldn't be easy to overcome.
"You know, the bond makes it impossible for you to hide things from me," Draco said as he rubbed slow circles on her back. "But it is still impressive that you try."
Hermione sighed. He wasn't wrong.
The reading of each other's thoughts was a hard thing to get used to, but neither of them were keen on blocking each other out anymore. She certainly didn't take offense to the fact that he had front row seats to her internal monologue, even when, like now, she was trying to keep him from worrying about all of her worrying; it wasn't the first time it had happened, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
"What are we going to tell Kingsley?" she asked, finally articulating the bits she knew he could help her with.
"You don't have to make any decisions about that now," Draco replied, pausing to brush the hair away from his eyes. "It's probably best we tell Kingsley everything eventually, but once he knows the truth, I doubt he'll disagree about keeping it a secret. My guess is he'll do everything in his power to help."
Hermione knew Draco was right, she knew Kingsley hadn't lived through two wars to risk starting another by flaunting her around as some kind of weapon, but it was still difficult not to agonize over it. Especially considering they hadn't seen fit to tell him anything yet.
After racing Theo to St. Mungo's, Draco and Harry had briefed Kingsley, who was equal parts distraught and engaged, and they somehow managed to gloss over the specifics of Hermione's triumph all while assuring him that, no, nothing nefarious was going on, and no, there was nothing they weren't telling him that they needed to tell him. Kingsley had been furious about being kept in the dark without so much as a simple confirmation that they were alive and safe, and Hermione really couldn't blame him; they had cut off all communication after battering down the hatches at the cliffside cottage, ignoring every regulation that had been put into place for precisely this kind of situation. Draco and Harry had taken the brunt of it, keeping Hermione away from the Minister until absolutely necessary, and even then, they had shielded her from some of the more difficult questions. She felt guilty lying, even if it was more a lie of omission than anything else, but for now, in the immediate aftermath, she was happy that the Minister's questions had been brief and few.
Her own questions had been maddening enough.
"I guess we'll find out," Hermione said finally, wrapping her arms around her folded knees. "It's so peaceful out here," she noted after a moment, turning slightly to face her husband again.
Draco nodded. "It is," he agreed, smiling softly.
She wanted the peace to last forever, but she knew it couldn't, at least not in the way she wanted to. There was no fighting the protective itch in the back of her brain, no getting rid of the kind of worry that always seemed to settle in after something terrible happened, especially now when the aftermath involved so many others that she deeply cared about. Sooner or later, she'd have to face the music.
Her power, the ancestors, the truth about the Aescling and the people who made him – she was basically a living, breathing elder wand, and deciding what to do with that information was slowly chipping away at her resolve.
She felt unsettled, a bit too uneasy and nervous for someone who had just won a hard-fought battle. And oddly enough, it was the same way she had felt the way after the Battle of Hogwarts. Even in the midst of all the destruction, there had been so much to look forward to, so much to be thankful for, and yet there had also been a terrible amount of sadness and grief. So much needed to be rebuilt, both physically and mentally, and so many, herself included, had failed to meet the hopeful expectations in the years that followed. And right now, she was scared that she wouldn't live up to the expectations following this fight, even if she was the only one setting them.
Mostly, she was worried about the future.
She worried about Scorpius, about what the transfer of power would one day mean for him. She worried about what it would take to keep such an important secret from the rest of the world, because if history had taught her anything it was that the possibility of all-encompassing power was a dangerous draw, a beacon for people with harmful intent. She worried about, if people found out the truth, what it would mean for any of them, especially Draco who would feel personally responsible for protecting her and their child.
There was no handbook for this, no easy answers, and that was almost more terrifying than living with a power she didn't yet fully understand.
On the one hand, she knew telling the truth would mean that she wouldn't have to hide, that maybe she could use her power for good without needing to worry about the repercussions. But on the other, she didn't want to be used as a weapon, nor did she want that for her son, and not even Kingsley could protect them from the consequences if the world found out about her power and decided it needed to be controlled. Either way, it would be a tenuous way to live, to raise a family, and she was worried… about fucking everything.
But it wasn't just the worrying that was getting to her; the struggle to live with what happened, that people had been hurt to protect her, seemed to amplify her emotions. The first day after everything had been the hardest. Being back at the Manor, seeing this destruction before Lucius had worked some impressive magic to initiate the repairs – it had all almost been too much for her. But Draco had been next to her the entire time, refusing, like he had done for her in the middle of the lightning-scarred field, to let her wallow in doubt. She had done what needed to be done, and he wouldn't let her believe that any of it had been her fault.
"Hermione, look at me," Draco said, his breathing a bid ragged and his voice rough.
She obliged, turning her head slightly.
"This worrying is going to eat you alive," he said, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "I promise, we will figure it out together," he paused, moving his finger to her bottom lip. "All of this."
"But Scorpius–"
"Will be fine," Draco assured her. "He's not exactly poised to become a father anytime soon, and there's no reason, even if people find out about you, that they need to know about him." He stopped, smiling as he opened her mouth and closed it. "Plus, it's not like you'll be navigating all of this in the dark. The ancestors haven't abandoned you, and they won't."
Hermione opened her mouth again, beginning to mumble something incoherently in protest, but Draco leaned forward and shut her up with a kiss instead.
"Not fair," she mumbled, pulling away to rest her forehead against his.
Draco laughed. "If I ever had to choose between having a power like yours and being able to do this–" he kissed her again, this time moving his tongue eagerly against her lower lip, "I'd pick this every time."
"Don't believe you," she muttered, her eyes heavy with lust as she licked her lips.
"Well then, I guess I'll have to be a bit more convincing," he replied, pulling her into his lap with an impressive feat of strength.
She felt a hand slip down the small of her back, sliding dangerously close to the edge of her jeans, and she moaned quietly, licking her lips as she looked at him.
"Ohhh," she gasped when Draco's mouth found its way to the spot behind her ear.
She felt him pull away and chuckle against her neck.
"Believe me yet?" he asked.
"I believe you," she replied breathily before throwing her lips against his.
And she wasn't just talking about the kiss.
It was complete chaos. But it was the soothing kind – the kind that assured everyone that things were okay.
James and Albus were chasing each other around the ornately decorated dining room in Malfoy Manor, their high-pitched squeals echoing off the walls while Ginny chased after them, apologizing profusely to Narcissa for their behavior (and again each time they managed to knock something off the walls). Lily, who was undeniably her mother's daughter, was throwing a tantrum after Harry had snatched a particularly fragile looking plate out of her hands, one which Lucius handed right back to her as soon as Harry's back was turned. And then there was Scorpius, who was just watching it all happen with wide eyes, every once in a while, looking at Draco with a pinched face, almost as if he was demanding to know what all the ruckus was about.
"Sorry, Scorp," Draco whispered, rocking his son gently in his arms. "Afraid, you're just going to have to get used to all the noise."
Every time he looked at Scorpius, he fell deeper in love, and if the same hadn't been true of his relationship with Hermione, the feeling probably would have unnerved him. But it was also a different kind of love than he had for Hermione, one that permeated his very being. Scorpius was both of them, and yet would grow into someone else entirely. He would have his own wants and needs, his own dreams, and one day, Hermione's power would be his own, and he'd have to decide what he wanted to do with it. Thinking about his son's future and worrying about the things he'd face only made Draco's attachment to him that much stronger, and Draco honestly had no idea how he'd lived so long without him.
But his son wasn't the end of his love story. There was the all-consuming love with Hermione that had knocked him off his feet the very moment she had come stumbling back into his life. There was the complicated love with his parents, which after years of estrangement, was finally on the mend. There was the soft and obvious love with Harry and his family, one that had showed him how happiness and pandemonium could exist on the same plane. And then there was the brotherly love with Theo, which had, from the very beginning, been founded on the desire to belong.
All of it mattered, and none of it was ordinary.
There had been a time when Draco thought he didn't deserve this, not a wife or a son, not even family that extended beyond blood, but now that he had it, now that he knew how wonderful life could be, he was never going to give any of it up.
My boy, Frode said suddenly, interrupting Draco's thoughts. I do believe you're smitten.
Draco chuckled. Yes, he replied silently as he looked around the room. With all of it.
No shame in that, Frode assured him.
And there really wasn't. Draco couldn't remember a time when he'd been this happy, this comfortable in a home that for years held nothing but pain and around people he had once so deeply hurt. He had spent so long after the war isolating himself from the world that he had almost forgotten what it meant to love – really love – and to be loved in return, but now his cup was so full that he was pretty damn sure he'd never run out.
Love, it turned, out, was the only kind of healing that he had needed all along.
When Draco finally looked up, trying to immerse himself in the conversation again, Hermione was smiling at him from the other side of the table. Her eyes were sparkling, and not just because of the ridiculously large chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. He didn't need to cross the bridge at the back of his mind to know what she was thinking; she was just as in awe with all of this as he was.
Their new, perfectly chaotic normal.
Draco shuddered as he felt a something familiar brush against his consciousness. Scorp looks like he wants to scold everyone in the room, Hermione said, her voice soft and sweet in his head.
Can you blame him? Draco replied, unable to hide the smirk on his face. We're surrounded by animals.
Yes, she said, making a face at Scorpius from across the table, but I'm not sure we could cage them even if we tried.
Probably best Dromeda and Teddy are out of town then, Draco told her, watching with a combination of horror and amusement as Albus held up his fingers as if they were horns and charged, screaming, at his brother.
Oh, please, Hermione retorted, watching as Ginny intercepted Albus before her sons could collide. Teddy was just as bad when he was younger. Harry is his godfather after all.
Draco chuckled quietly. She had a point.
I can't believe my father hasn't bored you to death yet, he mused, hearing Lucius dive into yet another story about his bloody peacocks.
Hermione laughed rather loudly at that, earning her a brief scowl from Lucius before he continued babbling as if nothing was amuck. His obsession with those damn birds is surprisingly endearing, she replied, dropping her chin to her hand as she pretended to listen. And what can I say, I'm a sucker for putting up with the Malfoy men.
What she's not telling you, came a voice that Draco recognized as belonging to Halvor, is that she would much rather be ravaging–
Halvor! Thyra admonished, obviously annoyed with his abrasive interference.
Draco lifted his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. New fucking normal indeed.
What? Halvor said, his subsequent laugh boisterous. We all know where this night is going, just thought I'd help it along.
Draco could see the blush on Hermione's cheek, and it sent a rush of blood to a place that wasn't particularly convenient for a family dinner.
You both realize that your thoughts aren't particularly quiet, right? Runa asked, trying to hold back her own sniggers.
Oh, for fuck's sake, Thyra exclaimed, employing one of Hermione's favorite phrases. All of you, out!
Draco could hear the groans of the ancestors as they were forced toward the door at the back of Hermione's head. Apologies, my dears, Thyra said. We'll leave you to it.
Not our fault they can't control their thoughts, Runa grumbled as she disappeared.
Behave yourselves, Frode said cheerfully upon his exit.
Or don't! Halvor shouted, after which Thyra threw the door in Hermione's mind shut.
I will never get used to that, Draco said once their thoughts were just their one again.
At least you're not the one who has to train with them everyday, Hermione told him, pausing to acknowledge something Lucius said before adding, but Frode is oddly attached to you. He always seems to find an excuse to cross the bridge into your head.
Better him than Halvor, Draco replied, dropping his head to watch as Scorpius fidgeted a bit in his arms. I seriously think he gets off on making people uncomfortable.
He's just a little rough around the edges, she said a bit defensively, although he could tell that she agreed. He means well.
Draco was about to rebut her statement with a mountain of evidence to the contrary, when the large doors to the dining room swung open, revealing a tall, lanky figure with dark hair.
"Fucking finally," Draco mumbled under his breath, and Hermione laughed.
"Everyone can relax now!" Theo shouted as he flounced into the room. "The party has arrived."
"Fashionably late as always I see," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "We're all starving, by the way. Mother wouldn't let us eat without you."
Theo snorted as he levitated a comically large bottle of wine to the center of the table. "I would hope not considering that I am the guest of honor," he said, pointing at himself and bowing dramatically.
Draco groaned but pushed back his chair and stood to embrace his friend, bringing Scorpius with him.
"Oh, look," Theo said, watching as Scorpius reached a small fist in the air as Draco pulled away. "Scorp is just itching to hang out with me. Better hand him over before he gets upset."
"You're a piece of work," Draco muttered even as he complied. "How's the new hand, by the way?" he asked, gesturing toward Theo's new addition.
"Works like a charm," Theo replied, placing a finger of said magically constructed hand, which other than a slight glimmer, looked entirely normal, inside Scorpius's tiny fist. "I was hoping they'd give me something gold and sparkly, but apparently this was the best they could do."
Draco rolled his eyes again. "Only you would complain about your new hand not being sparkly enough," he mused.
Theo merely snorted in response before returning his attention to Scorpius, talking quietly and mumbling things that sounded an awful like 'your father is an idiot' and 'good thing you have me.'
Even despite the banter, it was no small thing, seeing Theo with his son, and Draco couldn't help but smile as his best friend cooed at the small child in his arms.
"Oi!" Harry called from the other side of the room, and Draco tore his eyes away. "He was late – how come he gets to hold Scorpius first?"
"Privileges of being godfather, I'm afraid," Theo replied without looking up. "Plus, it looks like you have your hands full with little miss destroy very expensive china over there."
Draco heard Harry swear a mere moment before something shattered against the floor, and neither he nor Theo attempted to hold back their laughter.
"Merlin, give me the strength not to murder my children tonight," Ginny said, throwing her head back in frustration as she pulled Albus away from the tapestry he was hanging off of. "Narcissa, I cannot apologize–"
"No need, darling," Narcissa said as she handed Ginny a large glass of wine. "Children will be children. There's really no sense in trying to force them to be anything else."
"If you're looking for someone to blame, Harry, my money's on my father," Draco said, pointing across the table.
Both Harry and Ginny turned, surprised, and Lucius shot Draco a piercing glare before waving his wand and disposing of the pieces on the floor. "Lily has impeccable taste," he said, lifting his chin defiantly in the air. "Who am I to deny her?"
"Oh, yes because if infants love anything, it's a proper table setting," Draco quipped, catching Hermione's eyes as she tried to muffle her giggles with the palm of her hand.
Another loud crash filled the air, and Harry, who had just finished self-medicating with his own very large glass of wine, nearly choked when he turned and saw James climbing up the side of a large suit of armor, which was now missing one of the arms, in the far corner of the room.
"Oh, dear," Narcissa said softly, refilling Harry's glass as he dashed across the room, shouting at James to get down. "I don't think the Manor's seen this much destruction since Draco and Theo were young boys."
"They'll need to destroy a bit more than a pretty plate and suit of armor to compete with us," Theo said, looking over at Draco with a grin.
"You're not wrong about that," Draco agreed. "Although, I doubt our title will stand for much longer if we continue these blasted family dinners," he added, gesturing toward Albus who was now tangled in a rope that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
Harry returned to the table, dragging a downtrodden looking James with him. "Don't you dare say it, Hermione," he mumbled, motioning for his son to sit down in the chair next to him as he took another large gulp from his glass.
"I wasn't going to say anything," Hermione replied, throwing her hands into the air. "But you know," she began, pausing to take a sip of wine with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, "Can't say that you didn't have this coming."
"That, my love, is the smartest thing you've said all evening," Draco said, smirking as Harry groaned and dropped his head to his hands. "Payback for all the rules you broke at Hogwarts, Potter. Fair's fair."
Even Harry laughed at that one.
As the laughter died down, Theo cleared his throat. "Not that I don't love the direction this conversation is heading," he began, looking around to make sure he had everyone's attention, "but I have a bit of an announcement." He stopped, trying to hide an obvious smile as he moved Scorpius onto his other arm. "I brought a date."
The room quieted for a moment, and six pairs of eyes fell on Theo (seven if you counted the fact that Scorpius had already been staring at his godfather and ten if you counted the fact that the Potter children only looked because all of the adults did).
"And how was it you managed to lasso a date when you've only been home from the hospital for two weeks?" Draco asked curiously, although he thought he already knew.
Instead of answering, Theo stepped to the side, revealing a figure that was still standing awkwardly near the doors.
Is that–? Hermione asked Draco through their bond.
It is indeed, Draco replied, smiling.
"Erm. Hello, everyone," Dean said somewhat nervously, taking a few steps forward.
The shocked silence lasted for only a moment longer before everyone at the table got up from their chairs and rushed to welcome Dean to dinner.
"I hope Theo warned you," Harry said as he stepped in between his sons, who had used the distraction as an opportunity to begin wrestling with each other in the middle of the room. "These dinners are anything but relaxing," he added, pushing the two boys away from each other as they swung their fists wildly in the air.
Dean laughed. "Oh, I've been thoroughly briefed."
After shaking Dean's hand and whispering a few light-hearted warnings of his own, Draco moved back next to Theo.
"Unbelievable," Draco muttered under his breath as he heard his mother offer Dean something to drink. "I leave the room for five minutes to finish some paperwork and you manage to seduce the Auror assigned to question you about your involvement in the whole Aescling debacle."
"What can I say," Theo replied, shrugging. "I have a thing for Aurors."
The dinner that followed was as loud and chaotic as it had been before the food had been brought out, but it didn't matter; Draco didn't stop smiling through the entire thing. He shook his head as his father regaled Hermione and Harry with stories of the Malfoy lineage while bouncing Lily in his lap. He laughed as Narcissa helped Ginny chase down the boys when they made a bee line for the dessert table that Wally had worked so hard to set up. He smirked knowingly as Theo and Dean bickered, only pausing to take a breath when Scorpius made a noise in one of their laps. Draco loved everything about it, and he watched, taking it all in as if he was afraid the scene was going evaporate into thin air.
He honestly couldn't think of anything more perfect than this.
By the time Draco and Hermione made it back to the garden home, his stomach hurt from laughing and his face was flushed from a little too much wine.
"Do you think it'll always be like this?" Hermione asked, leaning her body against his as they stood, exhausted, near the edge of their bed.
"Probably," Draco replied, hoisting Scorpius further up his shoulder. "But we'd be bored if it was any different."
He moved away so that he could place Scorpius in the bassinet and watched until he was sure their son wasn't about to erupt into an ill-timed tantrum before sitting back on the bed and pulling Hermione with him.
They landed a bit more roughly than he'd intended, and Hermione squealed in surprise before quickly relaxing into his arms. He held her tightly for a moment until he felt her wiggling slightly in his arms.
"I want to look at you," she whispered, and then she was turning, swinging a leg around him so that was straddling his lap and staring down at him with lust blown eyes.
"Better?" Draco asked, the corner of his mouth bent into his trademark smirk.
Hermione licked her lips and nodded.
It wasn't the first time they'd been in this position, far from it, but Draco still thought it was the most intoxicating fucking thing he'd ever seen.
"So beautiful," Draco murmured as brought a hand to the side of her face, his fingers brushing lightly against the warmth of her cheek.
He was tired but not tired enough to leave his wife wanting, and he kissed her, unable to resist the urge to touch her all over. The kiss was soft at first, but there was a hint of impatience to it, and Draco couldn't help but smile against her lips as he felt her fingers clawed eagerly against the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue, and within seconds, she was moaning into his mouth, begging for more.
And Draco happily complied.
"Still can't – believe – you're my – wife," he muttered as he moved his mouth down the side of her neck, searching for the spot that he knew drove her crazy. "Can't believe – " he paused over her pulse point, nearly losing it when Hermione shuddered above him. "Can't believe you made me a father," he finished breathily.
"Believe it," Hermione told him, pulling away so she could look into his stupidly perfect eyes.
"Fuck," he groaned. And he did.
– The End –
a/n: Ahhhh - we made it y'all! So bittersweet that this is the end, but it was time to wrap this story up, and what better way to do it than giving you one beast of an update. Shoutout to all the dedicated reviewers who kept me writing so diligently these past few months (you know how you are), and also thank you so much to everyone who favorited/liked/shared etc. I've had so much fun writing this, and it will be sad to leave this world behind.
I'll be posting a short epilogue in the next week or so - just couldn't resist a little flash-forward - but if you're the kind of person who likes to imagine your own future for characters in a story, it's not terribly necessary that you read it.
Until next time!
