The following days were hard.

Theo was crying for his father; Evander was being too helpful. Hermione was an anxious mess as she pictured all the things that might have been happening with Draco.

She kept his wedding ring on a chain around her neck and every now and then the heartbeat would speed up until it was pounding frighteningly fast. It was then that she worried most over what he was going through. It never really slowed. At least, not enough that she felt sure he was getting adequate sleep. He was alive, though. And that is what she chanted to herself.

Her friends were on what appeared to be a well-managed schedule because there was always somebody with her. More often than not it was Ginny and the kids or Molly. Harry and George stopped by frequently as well. Gabrielle brought Rose and Hugo by a few times. Even Arthur stopped over. Ron had not. That alone infuriated her and if she had any space left inside her heart or head to feel any other negative emotions, she would have felt hurt. As it was though, she'd had to compartmentalize the anger she felt towards someone who she'd used to consider her best friend.

When the kids napped, she combed through solicitors and made appointments with them. Shockingly, nobody wanted to take the case of the infamous Draco Malfoy and that too angered her.

About two weeks after he'd been taken into custody, Ginny brought the kids over and they'd spent the morning building a massive pillow fort, the inside of which had been magicked. They were sleeping in it now, napping away the past hours of excessive activity while Hermione looked for any solicitors she hadn't already tried.

Ginny's subsequent sigh was obviously intended to draw Hermione's attention and when it didn't, she exhaled even louder.

"What is it, Ginny?" Hermione didn't even glance upwards. The redhead's frustrated huff irritated Hermione too.

"You've got to stop, Hermione. You've got to get out, fresh air and all that. This isn't good for you, the boys or the baby."

"And their father being locked up in Azkaban is good for them?" Hermione finally looked up.

"Well, no, but –"

"But nothing."

"But everything." Ginny shot back. "Malfoy is in prison. You think this is what he wanted? Actually, no, I know exactly what he wanted because I promised him I'd take care of you. You think he doesn't have enough to worry about without you being a right idiot and wasting away inside your house?" she abruptly adjusted her volume and glanced at the children's fort.

"What would you have me do then? Forget about it? Go and say goodbye when your brother sentences him and get on with my life?"

"Of course not." Ginny hissed. "You know that's not what I'm suggesting. Come for dinner. Take a break. Get some sleep. Wash your hair. When there's a trial, and there will be, do you want him to see you like this? Do you think that will help him?" Hermione glanced sideways at her research and then at the fort. "Let people help you because you can't do this by yourself and if you keep shutting everyone out, you're not going to be the only one who suffers for it."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at her hands, folded in her crowded lap.

"Would you and Harry mind if the boys and I joined you for dinner?"

Ginny's eyes lit up in a way that made Hermione feel guilty.

"That'd be wonderful. I'll even take the boys with me. You can have a proper shower and meet us at the house, yes?"

"That'd be lovely, thank you."

With Ginny having taken the kids, Hermione was left with a dilapidated pillow fort and a silence that seemed deafening in the wake of five screaming children. She sat on the sofa for a bit after they had gone, surveying what she could see of her house and trying to formulate a more cohesive to-do list in her head. So many things had fallen by the wayside in the aftermath of Draco's arrest. The house was a disaster. The kids' toys, shoes and clothing were scattered about and Draco… Draco's things were still everywhere – obviously.

His coat was still hanging on the wall and his dragonhide work boots were still by the door. His grand piano was untouched, sheet music scattered across the top of it. Watching her husband's belongings collect dust day after day was painful but she was certain that putting them away would be even worse – it would be indicative of just how permanent this arrangement was and she did not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with it just then because logic and love were warring with each other and Hermione – for once – wanted to ignore the logic.

So instead, she turned her back on the mess and started up the grand staircase, rounding each curve of it with this growing sense of dread. It was always there lately and it bloomed in her chest every time she neared the master bedroom. For the first couple of days, she found herself lying awake, in Draco's jumper, staring at the vaulted ceilings until exhaustion forced her to sleep. Then, after it became very clear just how unhealthy and unsustainable that was, she found herself crawling into bed with Evander more often than not.

He'd snuggle against her muttering something nonsensical before they both fell back sound asleep until Theo awoke. It was the new normal.

Their door was wide open as she crested the staircase, the mess from inside their bedroom spilling out into the hall and Hermione couldn't even be bothered to be upset about it. She kicked the toys and clothes over the threshold and as she leaned in to pull the door shut, Hermione caught sight of the boys' beds, each with a crumpled shirt of their fathers sitting atop the blankets. Her heart clenched and she tugged the door closed, perhaps a little harder than was necessary.

She continued on down the hallway then, passing bathrooms and storage closets until she finally approached a door that almost made her nauseous. Nauseous because she hadn't been able to stomach venturing inside the nursery since her husband's arrest. It was full of furniture, baby gifts and patches of paint on the walls that they were meant to choose between this week. With Evander, Draco had been distraught. He wanted nothing to do with the decorating until he'd come upon Harry and Hermione trying to put everything together the Muggle way. He was so agitated that they wouldn't use magic – or a house elf for that matter – that he tried to use magic himself. The unnecessarily panicked shrieking of his wife had stopped him mid-spell and that was how Draco Malfoy found himself sitting on the floor of the destroyed nursery, putting together that blasted baby furniture as a Muggle would have.

It became therapeutic for him after that. Hermione would sit in the glider, either supervising or with her nose in a book while Draco took the time to work on something, with his hands, that required his attention. It was calming really, to be able to blow off steam by making something for his child.

He did the same when Hermione was pregnant with Theo and had every intention of doing it for the newest addition as well. All of that meant Hermione was left with a room full of boxes of brand-new baby furniture, splotchy paint and no idea what to do because as irrational as it was, it was Draco's. It was something he did for his two eldest that she didn't want to take away from him and so she just hadn't opened the door.

Today was no different.

So she continued on past it to her bedroom, inhaling deeply and pushing the door open. His scent was fading from the walls of their home. To Hermione, that alone felt like watching the top bulb of an hourglass, the sand slipping away quickly and surely, unable to do a thing about it. The faint notes of mint and mahogany were behaving like the final grains of sand; disappearing and counting down to – something. Finality? She wasn't sure, but it counted down to something.

Hermione Granger – Malfoy? She should have changed her name – marched through her bedroom, into the en suite, aggressively flipping the shower to hot. She ripped her clothes off while her hands periodically caressed her belly in contrast to her angry movements. And then, as she stepped into the shower, the water hit her body and she sank down to sit on the shower floor.

The Potter house was a chaotic madhouse as per usual. Teddy Lupin was chasing James, Evander, Remus, Theo and Lily around the house while the children screamed at the top of their lungs. Hermione watched as James grabbed Evander and Remus's wrists, tugging them to a sharp stop as Teddy continued on, chasing Theo and Lily. James whispered something that made Remus and Evander giggle and race after him, undoubtedly to hide – and ultimately cheat. Hermione would not be surprised if one day James ended up in Slytherin. That thought made her smile.

Ginny rounded the corner then, wiping her hands on a towel thrown over her shoulder, grinning brightly at her friend.

"Teddy!" she shouted. "Tell the boys that Aunt Hermione is here, please."

"Yes, mum." His tone mocked her bossiness but lately, Teddy calling her 'mum' and Harry 'dad' was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence. He spent holidays going back and forth between the Potters' and Andromeda's. "Let's go find your brothers shall we?" he held his hands out to Lily and Theo who took them eagerly as the three of them ran off to find Evander, James and Remus.

"You look better. Do you feel better?" Ginny asked hopefully. Hermione nodded with a tightlipped smile. Ginny's shoulders fell just enough for Hermione to notice and there was that same guilt again. "Harry will be back any minute."

"Can I help with anything?"

"It's all going in the kitchen. Nothing to help with." She smiled reassuringly and gestured behind her to where food was undoubtedly chopping and preparing itself.

Little feet thundered again and in came the horde of Potter and Malfoy children.

"Mummy!" Lily shrieked. Ginny swooped her up and sat her on her hip.

"What is it, darling?"

"James pu'ed my hair!" She wailed. At that moment, the Floo roared and the chatter of two people conversing joined the clamor. Lily crying, James's shouting over her in self-defense, Theo babbling, Teddy greeting Harry, Evander and Remus chatting, Ginny soothing her daughter and now Harry talking to – Ron… was all too much. It all became overwhelming; loud and too much stimuli. Hermione was too exposed, too vulnerable where she sat and the room was spinning and she suddenly found herself on her knees in the Potter's half bath, vomiting into the toilet.

She felt Harry slip in behind her, pulling the door shut and then tugging her with him so that he was sat up against the wall with her in his arms as she coughed out a harsh sob that opened the floodgates.

"I didn't know you were here, 'Mione. I wouldn't have brought him with me. Oh, shh, you're alright, it's alright." She didn't listen to the words so much as the comforting cadence of his voice and his warm hands stroking her braided hair.

It wasn't Ron – at least not really. It was everything. It was too much. It was too loud. She was too hormonal. Draco was gone and he… well, he kept her grounded. He kept the post-traumatic stress and panic at bay.

"He's okay, Hermione. I saw him today. He's okay." Hermione clawed at his arm and her breathing was coming too fast and too shallow. She absently acknowledged him opening the door a crack and a little potion vial flying into the bathroom before he shut it again. "'Mione, drink this, come on now." The blue liquid tasted of lavender and peppermint and she tried to breathe more slowly as they waited for the calming draught to take effect. "Alright, then," Harry sighed, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of her head as she shook and gasped. "Close your eyes," She nodded furiously and pressed her face against his chest, then – nothing.

By the following week, the Ministry had evidently decided on a trial date for Draco. A Ministry owl delivered the post on the morning of her 20 week check up with the Healers. His trial was set for two weeks later and Hermione was officially running out of time to find a solicitor to take his case. Her optimism was waning and her sons were catching on to her obvious dread. She tried her best to keep them occupied with play dates and trips to the sweet shop but that in and of itself was cluing Evander in to the fact that something was wrong.

With one week to the trial, Hermione had started to believe hope was lost. She had one more meeting scheduled with the only remaining solicitor she had not already spoken with. With Molly babysitting, Hermione found herself sitting in an office, nervously alternating between wringing her hands and reorganizing her notes.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

"It's – well, it's Granger actually. Hermione Granger."

She stood.

She straightened her skirt.

She smoothed her hair.

She adjusted her bag.

And then she stuck her hand out for the solicitor to shake.

"Mrs. Granger, pleasure. Bellamy Bowman," the solicitor smiled warmly and then gestured Hermione into his office. He reminded her of Harry with his glasses and dark, shaggy hair. He was all freckles and skin dark like hers with kind eyes and a kinder smile and she was praying to the gods that he wouldn't turn her away within seconds like those before him.

"I've plenty of notes, memories I've been collecting, plenty of material really and I – " she plopped her notes down on his desk as she sat down and scraped her hair out of her eyes.

"Mrs. Granger – "

" – Hermione,"

"Hermione," Bellamy amended. "You needn't convince me." His smile was pitying and Hermione's heart sank.

"Look, Mr. Bowman, I'll pay what – "

"Hermione, I think it best that we stop interrupting each other, don't you?"

Hermione blushed.

"Of course."

"Very good, then." He folded his hands and leant across the desk. "You needn't convince me because I've already decided to take your case."

"You – you what?" Hermione was certain she had lost her mind, or at least certain she was hearing things because for all her outward optimism she had apparently quite literally lost hope.

"I will take Mr. Malfoy's case." She was staring. She knew she stood stop. She knew she should thank him and get on with the meeting. She knew many things and yet it was all she could do not to hug Mr. Bowman with the force of a freight train. He chuckled and pushed his glasses further up his nose before leaning back in his seat again. "My grandfather was a Death Eater long ago. My father didn't follow in the… family footsteps. I can't imagine what life would have been like if my father had been in Mr. Malfoy's position so, Mrs. Granger, I will take his case."

"You – I – " Hermione sniffled and dragged the back of her hand across her face. "Thank you." She cleared her throat and shuffled her notes again. "Now, about my notes."

Hi guys!

I'm moving soon so the next update might be slow to post but there WILL be a next update.

next chapter, Hermione and Draco see each other again and a lot of your questions about the past will start to be answered.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Your reviews give me life.