Apricity – Chapter Twenty-Five

Draco woke on the 23rd with his nerves on edge.

Today was the day. The interview for the Japanese internship.

He was terrified of how it was going to go, and terrified that he might say the wrong thing or make some sort of mistake. This wasn't something that he'd studied or prepared for—he had absolutely no idea what the interviewer was going to ask.

His entire future rode on this interview.

He'd arrived at Ryo's late at night after seeing Hermione off at the hotel. She'd Apparated directly to The Burrow, and then Draco had gone to the Ministry to pick up the Portkey that Ryo had told him in a past letter would always be waiting for him. It had been rather late at night, but the woman in the Portkey office never seemed to sleep. He was in Wales at the Sunamura estate within minutes.

Technically, it wasn't an estate. Not in the way that the Malfoy estate was.

The Sunamuras lived in a wizarding cottage on 1 acre of land, much like he assumed the Weasley family did. There were a lot of Pureblood families in the wizarding world, but not all of them were as wealthy as the Malfoys, or the Zabinis, or the Parkinsons.

The cottage had two rooms and was the sort of cottage that reminded him of Hagrid's. The décor was comfortable and lived-in, with furs and decorative plants. The fire was a perpetual fire, so the entire abode was warm.

Ryo's wife was a woman named Rose with short, curly brown hair and eyes that sparkled like emeralds. She was someone Draco had grown up around, just like Ryo, and she was a close friend of his mother's.

When Draco had entered the cottage, she lit up like firelight and embraced him in the type of hug he only ever got from her. Now, the following morning, she woke him with a gentle knock to the door of the cozy room they'd put him into.

"Draco," she said in a sing-song, melodic voice. "Have you woken? I've put a pot of tea on and would love to make you breakfast. I believe your interview is in thirty minutes or so."

At that, Draco sprang up, his hair a mess and eyes crusted with sleep. He hadn't slept this soundly in months, but no matter how comfortable and safe he felt, he was not missing the interview.

"I'm up!" he hollered, shoving himself into his clothing.

"I'll go start breakfast, then," Rose called back.

"All right, yeah!"

His mother would never allow the yelling through the door, given that it was uncouth to yell through walls and doors, but Draco was not his mother and this was not the Manor. The Sunamuras were Purebloods, but in an unconventional way. It honestly surprised him that their families were such good friends, but the adults had been friends since their Hogwarts years.

Draco supposed there were a lot of things he didn't know about his parents when they were younger.

He put on a pair of black trousers, a white button-up with long sleeves to hide his tattoos as best he could, and a black vest. Standing in front of the full body antique mirror, he scraped his hair back and inspected himself.

Presentable enough.

"Good morning," Rose said when he entered the kitchen. She turned to look at him, putting a hand on her hip. "Well, don't you look handsome! Are you excited?"

"I suppose," Draco said with a nervous smile, pulling a chair out at the small wooden table. The dining area was rather small and Draco was so tall that he almost felt like it was cramped. He sat down right as Rose floated a plate from the countertop to land in front of him. "I don't know if I should glamour my hands."

Rose bustled over, her robes trailing behind her as she came to stand beside him. She took his hand and inspected it. "Although I'm happiest with freedom of self-expression, I think you should. Just in case."

Draco nodded and pulled his wand out. After the glamour was in place, he stared at the blank canvases of skin. It was startling. It felt like taking a glimpse into the past, into a time before he ever would have imagined himself sitting in the Sunamuras' kitchen awaiting an interview for an internship in a completely different country.

"You've got about twenty-five minutes," Rose said, sitting down across from him with her own plate of food.

"Ah, okay," Draco said. "Where's Ryo?"

"He's gone to the Ministry for something work-related, but he'll be back in time for supper."

"And the interview? Will it be in-person?"

"No," she said. "For Japan, it's already Christmas Eve, and they do celebrate the holiday over there. Mr. Kanaka is doing us a favor by arranging an interview via scrying mirror. I hope that's okay with you."

Us.

Draco felt a strange emotion overcome him. It was almost like they were family.

He cast the thought aside. The Sunamuras were nothing like the Malfoys. They were genuinely good people. They hadn't made the wrong choices.

They would never want someone like him in their family.

"That's okay with me. I can't say I've ever used a scrying mirror before. My mother has, but I was under the impression it was an antiquated form of contact?" he said between bites.

"It's antiquated, but effective for cross-country visual contact when the witch or wizard can't be there in-person," Rose explained, smiling at him. "Don't worry—it'll get the job done."

Draco wished he knew what questions this Mr. Kanaka would be asking him. At least then he could feel confident enough to know that he'd be getting the job done, too.

They chatted for the remainder of breakfast, the conversation helping Draco to forget about everything else, especially how nervous he was.

Finally, it was time.

"Are you ready?" Rose said, standing up and sending the empty plates to the sink with a wave of her hand. "The scrying mirror is in the spare room across the hallway from yours."

Draco swallowed and nodded.

As ready as he'd ever be.


"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands in his lap and lifting his chin to try and look as put-together and mature as possible. He wanted to make a good impression and with the stoic expression on his face, Mr. Kanaka seemed like a wizard who cared about first impressions.

"Hey," he said, and then tried not to cringe. "Er—Good morning, Mr. Kanaka. Sir."

"I trust your holiday is going well. I know we're hours ahead of you over here, but I'm sure the holiday season is already underway?"

"Yes," Draco said, his heart pounding and nerves trembling. "It's underway."

There was another awkward silence. Mr. Kanaka studied him for a moment, wearing a curious expression.

"Why do you want to intern with me, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco felt his panic levels rising. Ryo had originally stated in his letter that it was going to be a representative—not the actual wizard he'd be interning with.

He didn't want to tell him that it was his only option. He didn't want Mr. Kanaka to smell his desperation from across the land. But he didn't know what to say. How could he explain why he wanted a job that he only sought because he couldn't get one in Britain? One that he only wanted because he dreamed of disappearing from the public eye?

Still, he felt sweat prickling on the back of his neck.

He felt like such a loser.

Mr. Kanaka cleared his throat and leaned closer to the mirror. "I think it prudent to mention to you that you've already got the job, Mr. Malfoy. There's no need to be so nervous."

. . . What?

Draco coughed on air. "I—I do?"

Mr. Kanaka smiled. "Yes. You do."

"How?"

"Ryo is a good friend and trusted confidant," Mr. Kanaka replied. "He told me everything I need to know to know that you'll be a good fit for the internship. What I want to know from you is the reason why you want this."

Draco grimaced and lowered his gaze. "Do you want the truth?"

"Honesty is the best policy, Mr. Malfoy."

With a sigh, Draco said, "I want to disappear. I want this internship because I want to work for a department that will allow me to disappear into a system that will consume me. I originally wanted to intern for the Department of Mysteries here in Britain, but no one would have me. So to be honest, Mr. Kanaka, I would not have chosen Japan as a country that I would ever move to if it weren't for my past and my record."

Mr. Kanaka nodded, looking thoughtful. "And your record . . . It has to do with the war that recently ended, correct?"

"Yes." Draco hung his head, feeling the shame crawling up his spine. "And it was in that war that I chose the wrong side. I honestly . . . Well, I don't know if I'll ever be able to work in Britain again. My future is likely over. So, when Ryo suggested this internship to me, I was happy even though it wasn't anything I ever would have thought to choose for myself."

"It was your only option."

Draco flinched. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Mr. Kanaka smiled again. "What I want you to do instead is tell me why you made that choice. The choice to fight on what you've said is the wrong side."

Draco bit his lower lip, averting his eyes as he tried to think of the best way to answer the question.

"To protect my family, sir." He frowned. "It's hard to explain, but . . . The Dark Lord was not someone who was above tracking through the mud to get what he wanted. He had me, my father, and my mother in a vice. If one of us stepped a toe out of line, the other two would be killed. It didn't matter which of us it was—one was worth two. My father did what he had to do. My mother did what she had to do. I did what I had to do. But there are consequences for every action, no matter the intention behind it."

Mr. Kanaka nodded slowly. "Excellent choice of words. I may not know what the circumstances of your war entailed, but I do know that any man who chooses family above all else is a man I want working for me. Now, why don't you tell me . . ."

Draco could hardly hear him for the joyous way his heart was pounding in his ears. He couldn't believe this was happening. Deep down, in spite of his high hopes, he hadn't thought he'd be making it past this interview. He'd feared that this final chance would be taken from him and that he'd end up with nothing. No hope. No future.

No way of taking care of Hermione if she was truly, truly bonded to him.

But now he had something to hold onto—someone he would do anything for. And when he really thought about it, he wasn't so sure he wouldn't make the same wrong choices for her as he had for his parents.

He was so absolutely bloody fucked.


Draco looked up from his novel when the Floo flared to life.

Ryo stepped out, his robes dusty with soot and a smile the size of Finland on his face. His jet-black hair was worn in a low tail at the base of his head and his salt-and-pepper beard stood out as a defining feature on his face. He spread his hands wide.

"Well?!" he bellowed, his hearty voice filling the cottage.

Rose stood to take his coat, the smile on her face just as wide and full of pride as his.

Draco's heart fluttered as he closed his book and returned their smiles.

"I got the job."

"You got the—?" Ryo pumped a fist into the air. "Fantastic, Draco! I knew you could do it! Oh, I'm so proud of you! Get on over here and give me a hug!"

Draco tried to hide how sheepish he felt as he stood up from the couch and walked into the embrace of someone he'd come to know as family just the same as his parents. Everything Ryo had done for him—a hug was only the foundation of what Draco owed him in return.

Ryo clapped him on the back. "I'm very proud, Draco."

"Though I suppose I owe my success to you," Draco said, squeezing him in return. It felt nice to be embraced, to feel a man's arms around him. His father had hardly ever embraced him. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Ryo held him at arm's length and shook his head. "All I did was pass the information along. Mr. Kanaka wrote me and told me he genuinely liked you." He held up a forefinger as he recalled the words. "He said you walked the darker path for the sake of family, and that shows a level of desire to survive and succeed that is lacking in the youth of today. He told me—" Ryo let out a small, incredulous laugh and gripped Draco's shoulder tighter. He wasn't as tall as Draco, but they were able to make near-direct eye contact. "He told me that you really opened up and told him about some of the things you experienced during the war. You put your trust in him and he values honesty above everything. He told me he could see it in your eyes the first moment he saw you. You're not only fit to be an intern for Mr. Kanaka, but you're fit to be the head of the Malfoy Estate. And I will be letting your father know."

Draco felt a swirl of conflicting emotions. Pride towards himself for telling the truth. Disdain towards his father for keeping tabs on him through Ryo. Discomfort over having Lucius know what was going on in his life when ignoring his letters was the most power Draco'd had over him in his entire life.

And a little something extra that pulled at his heartstrings and tried to fill his eyes with tears.

"Thank you, Ryo," Draco said, and he put his hand on Ryo's opposite shoulder. Beside them, Rose looked on. "For doing this for me. You gave me a future, and it means the world to me."

"Of course, my boy." Ryo's brows twitched together and he pulled Draco into another embrace. "Of course."

"Now," Rose said, "why don't we sit down to dinner?"

They made their way to the table, where Rose had prepared a lovely supper of ham and sides. The entire cottage was decorated from floor to roof with lights and decorations, but it was the floating ones that really stood out to Draco. They were gold and moving, spinning lazily about a room draped in sparkles and light.

They reminded him of Hermione.

As they sat down and started to eat, Draco could hardly focus on Ryo's recounting of his workday. He wondered how Hermione was doing at the Weasley home. He wished she hadn't felt the need to go there for the holiday, but he did understand it. She had no family, and neither did he.

As much as Draco loved the Sunamuras, he wished he could be at the Manor with his mother and father—damn him. So he understood why she'd decided to go there. All those Weasleys she'd so lovingly told him about in the common room a few days before, and Potter. She needed to be around them, he grasped that.

He wished she didn't have to be near the Weaselbee. That oaf had no idea how close he'd come to meeting the end of Draco's wand in the past month. Weasley hadn't the slightest clue what his poor choice had wrought upon Hermione, and the only thing that kept Draco from seeking him out was his ability to detect that Hermione would be livid with him if he attacked her "best friend."

But the clock was ticking on his patience.

Draco glanced with fondness at one of the floating Christmas decorations, which glittered like diamonds. He chuckled under his breath as he chewed his recent bite.

"What's that?" Ryo said as he speared some food on his fork with his free hand. His other hand was clasped in Rose's on the table.

"Oh, nothing," Draco said. "just—my dormmate has decorations like this up all over the common room. I hated them for the longest time. Now they just seem familiar."

"Oh, come off it," Rose said with a laugh. "You know your mother had those House Elves bedecking the Manor on the holidays."

"Yes, but there's something different about hers," Draco said, voice a bit faint. Given that Hermione's family wasn't in her life anymore, the decorations were more meaningful to her. They represented a piece of her past that she had to hold onto.

"Hers?" Ryo said, his eyebrows shooting up. He exchanged glances with Rose. "A witch in your life, Draco?"

"Of sorts," he said, and then he took a bite of his ham.

"Who is she?" Rose asked. "I had thought your parents were arranging you a betrothal. Is she the witch they—"

"No," Draco said, grimacing. "My parents never got around to arranging that, actually. The—his return put a damper on that."

"Is it someone else?" Ryo asked.

"Yes," Draco said, because the word slipped out before he could stop it. "Yeah, it's—it's someone else."

"Well, tell us about her!" Ryo said in his robust, cheerful tone. "Is she kind, feisty, quiet, compassionate . . . ?"

"She's . . ." Draco slowed his chewing and rested his forearm on the table's edge. His fork trailed through his food in an absentminded manner. What was he supposed to say?

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"No. She's my soulmate."

Ryo and Rose stared at him. The silence was thick and shocked and awkward, but it didn't feel judgmental.

Draco didn't know what happened. In hindsight, he would probably have to say that he was desperate for someone to know. With his friendship with Theo being on such unsteady ground, Draco had been dealing with everything alone for the past month. Blaise and he were close, but he wasn't sure how he and Pansy truly felt about Hermione.

What if they told the wrong person that he and Hermione might be bonded? What if the only reason they were "okay" with Draco and Hermione canoodling was because they thought it could end at any moment? Pansy had poisoned Hermione's tea and while she was contrite, he didn't think she had changed any of the ideals they'd learned in childhood. They were Purebloods.

Neither he nor Hermione needed the stress of societal evisceration if Pureblood society found out the Draco Malfoy was bonded by some medieval ritual to a Muggle-born. They'd hurt her any way they could and he wasn't sure his name held the same weight anymore. He wasn't sure he could protect her from that.

But Ryo and Rose were different. He didn't know how he knew, he just felt it. He felt it and he couldn't hold onto the burden by himself any longer.

So he told them everything.

Well, minus the parts that were sexual in nature. That probably wasn't important.

But he told them about the punch in Third Year, and the depression and illness over the following Summer, and the kiss in the corridor after the Yule Ball. He told them about the dreamwalking and the nightmare, and then he told them about what happened in Divination that led to him walking her memory. He told them about Paris and her eating problems and the fact that he'd walked in on her in the bathroom—and he did regret sharing that, but it was like a waterfall tumbling from his mouth. He couldn't stop it.

". . . And we have no idea who could have bonded us, but we're fairly certain we're bonded. We keep dancing around the idea, but I think deep down we both know it's true," Draco finished, lowering his gaze to the table. "And when we get back after Christmas, we're going to put our efforts into finding out how to reverse it."

Ryo and Rose looked at one another, and Draco could see that they were having a silent conversation. He didn't know what they were thinking. His heart felt lighter, but he knew it had come at a possible cost. He knew the Sunamuras, but did he really know them? They seemed to have taken the information well so far.

But he knew there was one final piece to the puzzle.

Apparently, so did Rose.

"She's not a Pureblood, is she?"

"She's Muggle-born," he said in a low voice, hanging his head.

The Sunamuras each let out heavy sighs, as though they weren't sure what to do with him. But then, just as Draco was starting to regret having confided in them, Ryo surprised him.

He slammed his fork down on the table.

"Draco Malfoy!" Ryo said, his voice sharp and stern. "You raise your head." Draco did, his eyes popping open at the level of vehemence he heard in Ryo's voice. "That girl is your family, whether you like it or not. If you're bonded and it's not reversible, it doesn't matter one iota what her blood status is. That is the witch you will be beside for the rest of your forever. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Flushing with chagrin, Draco said, "That isn't the issue. I swear. I don't mind about her blood status, I—"

"It's not something you have the right to mind or not mind," Ryo snapped, his eyes blazing. "And that's one thing your father and I never agreed on. You are no better than anyone else, therefore you have no right to decide someone else's worth. You can mind it all you want or not, but she's still going to be good enough."

"I know that," Draco whispered, his appetite completely curdled. "I'm not ashamed of her."

"Then who are you ashamed of?" Rose asked, her tone in gentle contrast to her husband's. "Because the look on your face was not one of pride, darling."

Draco closed his eyes. It felt like his mother was speaking to him.

"I'm ashamed of myself," he said, dragging his hands up into his hair and hanging his head between them with his elbows on the tabletop. "I'm ashamed of the fact that I treated her so horribly when we were younger that she wants the bond reversed. And I'm ashamed of the fact that I'm too cowardly to tell her that I don't want to reverse it. It's only been like, one month, but I already know what I want."

Ryo inhaled deeply and then asked, "Do you want to spend an eternity with her?"

"I don't know."

Rose asked, "Do you love her?"

Draco let out a nervous laugh, looking up at them through his lashes without removing his head from his hands. "Aren't those the same question?"

"You can spend eternity with anyone if you're forced into it," Rose said, squeezing Ryo's hand, "but love is different. It's something you choose every day."

Ryo nodded. "Whoever she is, she has to know that before she makes her decision. And I think you'll find that it's exactly the answer she needs to make it."

"She's already made her decision, I can guarantee it." Draco sighed and sat back in his chair, his food forgotten and going cold. He crossed his arms over his chest. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"And I—as a woman—can guarantee you that she hasn't," Rose said. "This is a soulmate bond, Draco. A bond tied to the stars. She knows what that means. She knows what it would mean if she reversed it."

Ryo nodded again and added, "And she knows what she would be giving up."

"What she would be giving up?" Draco let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh. "A lifetime of misery with a felonious wizard with a record, barely a foot in the door of a future, and who built the foundation of their past on cruelty?"

"No," Ryo said slowly, "a possibility at a future with someone whose pieces fit into the empty spaces of her own. Draco, do you even understand what a star bond is? It's not just taking two random magical cores and binding them together like parchment and wax. It's taking two halves of the same whole and binding them to something that won't ever let them stray away from one another."

Draco's heart skipped a beat, sinking down like a stone in water as he looked across the table into Ryo's eyes. "Star bonds were used for betrothals."

"Star bonds were used for matchmaking," Rose said. "It's a part of Pureblood history that isn't taught as extensively as it should be. Pureblood families didn't bond just anyone. They sought proper matches that fit together like two halves to the same whole. If they couldn't find the match, they used different forms of betrothal bonds. But star bonds were reserved for the luckiest of the lucky. The bond would not have worked if you and your betrothed were not truly a good match."

"Then why did they stop using them?" Draco asked. "Why did they fade into history the way they did?"

"I'm not sure," Rose said. "I only know what my mother taught me. Your Divination professor will know more, I'm sure of it. In fact, if you and this girl are bonded and you want to have the best chance at making this decision accurately, then you need to speak to your professor."

"So," Ryo said, "do you love her?"

"I want to be bonded to her," Draco replied, shrugging and rubbing his jaw with his hand as he searched the air for his thoughts. "I do see her as my family and I want to keep her in my life. I don't want to be separated from her, but if that's what she wants . . ."

"I didn't ask that," Ryo said, shaking his head. "I asked you if you loved her."

"I don't know. It's only been a month, but we have this . . . This connection between us that feels eternal. So the answer is that I don't know."

"You will," Ryo said. "I promise you that you will."


Draco sat up at the knock on his door.

He'd stayed up reading and though it wasn't too late, it was already ten. This was much later than the Sunamuras had stayed up the night before. He set his book down right as Rose opened the door and poked her head in.

"Can I speak with you?" she said.

"Yeah, sure," Draco said, sitting up more fully and gesturing to an armchair that sat adjacent to his bed. As Rose took her seat, he grabbed his wand and lit the lantern with an incendio. Warm, golden light flooded the room with an ambient glow. "What's the matter?"

"Well," she said, adjusting the skirts of her robes as she seemed to contemplate her next words. "After our conversation at supper, I realized we didn't really discuss her health. From what you said, she's very ill and needs help, correct?"

Draco gulped.

Right. That.

"Yes, she's . . . She's not well," Draco said, voice meek.

"You can't carry that burden all on your own, Draco. You know that, right?" Rose said, her brow furrowing.

Draco swung his legs around until his feet were flat on the floor. He rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together between his knees. "I can try."

Rose sighed. "Oh, Draco. You poor thing. You can try, but you won't succeed. You have to understand that. If you're soulmates, then your fates are intertwined. If she dies, you die. If you die, she dies. This isn't a burden you can carry for her."

"I can carry this one," Draco said, tone insistent. "We've come up with a system. We've got open lines of communication. She knows I care. I can carry this, Rose."

"Like you carried it for your mother?"

Her question hit him so hard in the chest that his eyes filled with tears. He squeezed them shut for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. No one knew. No one knew, except Rose now, and it was overwhelming. He felt like he'd been trying to keep it contained for so long and now he was too weak to keep it from slipping piece-by-piece from inside of him. He didn't want to let it go, yet it felt so relieving just to watch the pieces drift.

"No one knows," he breathed. "And I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I understand," Rose said. "Ryo doesn't know, and neither does your father. The only reason why I know is because I overheard it at the end of a luncheon when you were in your Fourth Year. I never told her I heard."

"How did you know I was hiding it for her?" Draco asked, his voice rough from trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I didn't," she said, "until now."

They stared at each other for a moment, the flickering of the candlelight causing the shadows to waver. Draco realized then that his own insistence at maintaining some form of control over Hermione's illness was giving his own secrets away. Why else would he care so much about it, if it weren't because of his mother?

And here Rose was, giving him an expectant look, waiting for him to realize that he really couldn't do it alone.

He conceded defeat.

"I need help," he said. "I don't know what I'm doing and I'm terrified because I don't fully understand it. She's the only thing I have that's mine. I don't want to lose her like I lost my mother."

Rose gave him a gentle smile.

"I can help you."

Draco watched as Rose waved her wand and a stack of three books appeared on his mattress beside him, nestled in the soft comforter. He picked them up and looked at each title.

Understanding Eating Disorders.

The Effects of Eating Disorders on Teens.

Disordered: A Study on Family Dynamics in the Wake of Sorrow.

"I bought those from a Muggle bookstore in London," Rose explained from the chair, "after that luncheon. I loved your mother. She was my best friend and I wanted to understand it."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Draco asked, frowning as he held one of the books in his hands. He wasn't angry, but he was perplexed. If she'd gone to these lengths, why hadn't she done more to help?

Rose lowered her gaze. "We all have things we regret, Draco, and that's why I want you to read these books. Read them cover-to-cover and do your best to understand your witch."


Draco stayed up all night reading.

He read clear until the next morning, past the point of tiredness. He read in the chair in the living room while Ryo and Rose spent time reminiscing in front of the fire. He read into the afternoon, even when his eyes were drooping. He read until the words blurred because he was starving.

He devoured it all.

Hermione was in danger from herself and reading these books was like ripping open her skull and peering into her mind. It didn't explain some of the things she'd said to him, but the literature explained to him exactly how wrong it could go. How wrong it was already going.

And it gave him answers about his mother.

The symptoms were there for Hermione: her short temper and irritability; how exhausted she'd been on the steps outside the restaurant in London; the overexercise he'd seen her doing in the common room that had probably been going on for months; her overeating and skipped meals in the Great Hall and their dorm; the way she got lost in her thoughts from time-to-time; the fact that she couldn't seem to grasp how sickly she'd made herself look when they were walking his dreams.

The purging.

That was the most dangerous part. She could be any weight at all, and still die. Every time she purged, she disrupted her body in a way that could cause her to die in moments. She could tear her esophagus. Her heart could stop. She could go into what was called 'respiratory arrest.' Her stomach could rupture, spilling its contents into her body and killing her in minutes.

Five or ten—it didn't matter. It would never be enough time.

The anxiety curdled his stomach at the thought.

There was so much information to take in. Statistics across countries. How people with this disorder could weigh absolutely anything and still be on the verge of death. How Black women were one of the most overlooked ethnicities in the global medical field, especially when it came to disorders, which put Hermione directly in the category that needed the most help. The percentage of women who were disordered versus men.

There were other symptoms, too. Symptoms he didn't know if Hermione possessed. Deteriorating joints. Lowered potassium, which according to the books is what could cause her heart to stop if the levels got too low. Nutrient loss that caused her hair to fall out and her skin to dry. Rotting, chipped teeth.

It was overwhelmingly painful, and he knew it was because his mother had endured all of this in complete silence.

And then she died.

"I think I'd like to write a letter," he said suddenly, interrupting Ryo's raucous retelling of a Quidditch game to his wife sometime after lunch.

"Of course, my boy!" Ryo said. "There's parchment in the spare room. Just open the window, and the owl will come. Her name is Berry."

First, Draco went to his bedroom. He went through his coat pocket and pulled out the gift he'd gotten her the day before. He then went into the spare room and rummaged around until he found the parchment, a quill, and the inkpot. He didn't know how to quite articulate his emotions, but he knew he needed to write to her. He knew it was time to give her his promise, and he couldn't wait.

Granger,

I don't quite know how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it.

I'm fucking terrified of losing you.

Are you eating? Please try to keep it down.

Happy Christmas,

Draco

He rolled it up, and then attached the jewelry box to it with a conjured satin ribbon. Once it had been sent off with the owl at the window, he turned to go back into the living room.

Ryo stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

"What's going on?"

"Ah, nothing," Draco said, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I just needed to send a letter."

". . . To your witch?"

Draco gritted his teeth and then let the tension flow out of his body. Ryo was not someone from school. Ryo was like a second father to him, or an uncle. He trusted him.

"Yeah."

Ryo leaned against the doorframe. "Who is she, Draco?"

"Like, to me?" Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "Or her name?"

"Her name."

Draco felt guilty, and he didn't know why. It wasn't like he'd cast the bond himself.

"Hermione Granger."

Ryo blinked. "Excuse me. Whom?"

"Hermione Granger."

The silence was very, very tense.

"This is like Romeo & Juliet," Ryo said after a moment. "Only I'm hoping it doesn't end in death."

"Oh," Draco grumbled, rolling his eyes a bit, "you have no idea."

"Well, now I see why there's so much conflict," Ryo said. "The best advice I can give for this situation is to let her come to you. You've made your decision—she still needs to make hers. Just do your best to be there for her and show her who you are. It'll turn out exactly as the stars have aligned it to."

Draco nodded, and then they went back out into the living room.

He tried to finish reading but ended up dozing off in the chair.

When he woke, he'd missed supper, but there was a letter waiting for him next to his charmed-warm plate on the table. The Sunamuras had already gone to bed. His heart raced as he opened it, rubbing sleep from his eye with the back of one hand as he did so.

Draco,

I need you to be here, I think. Please come to The Burrow for Christmas dinner tomorrow.

Yours,

Hermione