A/N: Chapter takes place in the middle of June, 2009. A new character is introduced in this chapter. Her last name is Feyereisen, pronounced fire-eye-zen.

TW: Self-doubt
TW: Negative Thoughts / Toxic Thinking
TW: Alcohol As a Coping Mechanism
TW: References to Past Torture
CW: Ron sort of implies that Hermione's lack of desire to have kids and potential infertility is a negative thing. Not quite sure how to tag that, but figured I should prepare you best I can.

The thoughts wouldn't disappear.

Draco leaned back in his chair and stared out the window of his study. His fingers were wrapped around a stout glass of Firewhisky, his third. He watched as a storm raged outside. Jagged bolts of lightning seemed to appear from nowhere as the dark, angry clouds blended into the black of the night sky. Coals crackled in the fireplace on the far side of the study and Draco jumped a bit as the muffled sound of thunder filtered in.

He hadn't given a single interview since the Wizengamot declared him innocent ten years earlier. His words would've been twisted; there wasn't a single reporter he trusted. Not one. His life afterward blended into a series of men and women, hitting him, fucking him until the outside resembled what he felt inside. It was almost mindless, and he allowed people to say things he knew weren't true simply because combatting them would mean admitting that he wasn't a whore. It would mean admitting he was a mistake.

Draco took another sip and winced as the taste of cinnamon faded to a sharp burn in his throat. The rain outside was a constant pitter-patter, pitter-patter against the ground. The gardens would be a vibrant green in the morning. Hermione was asleep in their bed at the other side of the manor, without a single worry what would happen the following afternoon.

The anorexic thoughts hadn't gone away; they had evolved. The past two-plus years Draco had been working with Penelope, he grew to understand anorexia was not about vanity. It was not about food, being thin, or any part of his appearance. Anorexia was about control. Avoiding food was simply avoiding failure. When Draco stopped restricting food or accepting it only to purge later, those emotions had nowhere to go.

He wondered what sort of invasive questions he would be privy to. Being interviewed by The Daily Prophet wasn't exactly his idea of a fantastic afternoon. Being interviewed by The Daily Prophet alongside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley was even worse. He took a deep breath then knocked back the remnants of his Firewhisky. It was sort of hilarious when he thought about it. The Golden Trio, a bunch of heroes, the three who brought down The Dark Lord, and Draco was only a few months away from asking one of them to marry him.

But why should she?

Draco had spent years tormenting her, believing she was somehow lesser. Worth less as a person. Of course, it all stemmed from envy. Hermione had the power of ten average wizards while he could never even stand up to his own father's expectations.

Too pretty.

Too bent.

Too stupid to beat the Mudblood in anything.

Lose to the Potter boy in Quidditch.

Lose the war to the Golden Trio.

Nearly lose your life because that is what you are, isn't, Draco? Nothing more than a loser.

A waste of time.

A waste of space.

A waste of—

"Draco?"

He closed his eyes and grimaced. He didn't want to be pulled from those thoughts, not once he had committed to them. It was best to let them run their course. Hermione stood in the doorway and asked,

"How many glasses have you had?"

"Three." He paused then asked, "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters. One is a nightcap. Two is a rough day. Three is something deeper."

"I don't want to worry you with anything. You were asleep when I left."

"I've gotten rather used to you holding me while I am asleep. I can tell when you don't."

Draco smiled, a genuine grin. He would say it a hundred times and mean each of them, there was no better way to begin a day than by waking up with Hermione in his arms. She walked across the study and nestled into Draco's lap, tossing her legs over one of the chair's arms. Draco supported her back with his free arm and she rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Something feels off with you."

Draco shrugged and answered, "Reporters make me anxious."

"But it is not about the interview, is it?"

He sighed.

"No, it's not."

"Tell me, then."

"This is not the sort of thing I can tell you, Hermione. It … I don't know how to explain it."

"That's okay." Hermione twirled the hem of Draco's shirt between her fingers. "Perhaps if I tell you what has been bothering me, you will find a way to say what is …" She winced. "I was about to say 'what is eating away at you,' but that feels a bit insensitive."

Draco laughed.

"I think we have passed the point when you need to tiptoe around me so carefully."

"Right. Well, six months ago you asked me if I would say yes to a proposal. Do you remember?"

"As clearly as anything."

"And I said yes."

"I remember."

Hermione's voice was so soft, so hurt when she asked, "Then why haven't you done it, yet?"

"Because asking you to marry me is one of the most terrifying things I will ever have to do."

"But—"

"No, no, listen, please."

Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded. Draco kissed her cheek and said,

"I will not eclipse your successes, Hermione. You have worked so hard on this pilot project for a young wizards' school, and if you succeed then an engagement would drown out the news cycle. We are doing a public relations push for a reason, aren't we?"

She nodded.

"You are awful at politicking, and this needs to be a focus. Come July, I want your project to begin. I want you to have this up and running by the spring term and it begins with this image-shaping. If I ask you to marry me, that will be the only story until our wedding. And then every-other week it will be article after article speculating about whether we plan to have a child. There is no escaping that ride once we are on it."

She sighed and agreed, "I suppose you are right."

"It does happen, occasionally." Draco closed his eyes and revealed, "I have a ring, though."

Hermione relaxed in his arms.

"So this is real?"

"Of course it is real. No matter how often I have to remind myself it is. Some part of me is always thinking I am not enough, can never make this enough of a home for you. Believing I don't deserve—"

"Everyone makes mistakes, and some people make bigger mistakes than others. Some mistakes cannot be undone, but yours were. You worked for it, you tore yourself apart and made yourself better. You built a family that has none of the prejudice you were raised with. You did that. Not Blaise, not Theo, not anybody else. And I don't care if I have to remind you every day for the rest of our lives together, but you deserve this. I deserve you and you deserve me."

"Perhaps you're right. I saw the ring and then I saw us together, you wearing it."

"Will you tell me what it looks like?"

"There is no fun in that," teased Draco. "But when I close my eyes and think about that ring, I see me offering it to you. I see us getting married and me adding a wedding band. I see you holding our child with that ring on your finger. I see you waving as we send them off to Hogwarts for the first time, ring still on your finger. I can see us at forty-five, holding hands at Seb and Naevia's wedding, that ring still on your finger."

Hermione smiled softly.

"Maybe it'll be on my finger when I'm being sworn in as Minister."

"When you're receiving your second Order of Merlin First Class commendation."

"Even on the bad days, you will be there holding my hand through the tears, my ring right in the middle of it."

"When I walk out of Penelope's office for the final time, I will pull you into the tightest hug then step back to hold your hand because we did it together; I couldn't have done it without you. And that ring, Hermione, is a symbol of all of it. The pain, the anger, the loss and the surprising bit of love it took for us to get there."

"It's not a bit." Hermione yawned. "It is so much more than a bit, Draco, my love for you is like a pair of glasses I never take off. I see the world so clearly through you. You guide me through this. I want to be engaged, but you have the presence of mind to hold back. I wished to stay at the Ministry, but you showed me that my life has value elsewhere. I thought I was too horrible of a person to be a mum, you know, I mean …" She choked off the end of her sentence.

Draco placed his glass on the side table and took Hermione's hand. He ran his thumb across her knuckles as he asked,

"What had you intended to say?"

"Only that I never thought I could be a proper mother. You know how I treated Ron, and then what I did to you. I never wanted to hurt anyone, not physically anyway, but I lost control and it happened. Parvati helped me to understand why I did it. It was the only defense I ever had because logic only got me so far. Sure, logic got me Petrified instead of dead, but why was I targeted at all? I was thirteen years old! I was so angry about it. Logic is the true reason Ron and Harry kept me around as a friend those first few years, but then Ron decided to snog Lavender in front of the whole bloody House even though everyone knew how I felt about him. So I sent a flock of birds after him and he left me well enough alone. Violence was what kept people away when they got too close. Ron was always too bloody close."

"And what am I?" asked Draco. "Sitting here, holding you, telling you I've got an engagement ring stashed away to surprise you one day. When am I too close?"

"Never."

"Never?"

"No, because I want you here and I trust you not to hurt me, Draco Malfoy."

He smiled and looked down into those brown, sleepy eyes.

"I want you in my life, and I trust you not to hurt me, Golden Girl."

She blushed.

"Will you come with me to bed, now?"

"You never have to work to get me in bed."

"Only for sleeping."

"Right, right," Draco teased, "only for sleeping."

.oOo.

Draco conceded that The Daily Prophet had modernized. He walked into their headquarters the following afternoon, smack in the middle of Diagon Alley, and was surprised to see a full-on photograph area. The reporter had set up an interview section on the far side of the room with squishy armchairs. The sort that made some people comfortable enough to spill their darkest secrets. Hermione was blasé about it all. She did so much press at the Ministry then as a ramp up for this interview that she could answer most questions in her sleep.

Draco nodded to Ginny where she stood in what he assumed was the "family corner." Alicia was there, along with her eldest daughter and Potter's sons. Certainly not a place Draco wanted to be, but he squeezed Hermione's hand then made for the corner. He hardly took four steps before the reporter shouted,

"Malfoy! Where the bloody hell are you going?"

He frowned.

"To wait with the other plus-ones, obviously."

"No." She pointed her quill at one of the four chairs in front of her and said, "You're over here."

Draco took a deep breath.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Fuuuuuuuck.

He sighed, "Fucking hell."

Hermione took his hand and led him over to the chairs and sat in the third, nodding for him to take the fourth and final seat on her left. Potter was at her right and Weasley to his right. Draco leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear.

"I thought it would only be a couple questions with the others. I don't belong here."

"You believed I would miss out on getting you involved in this when no one has heard directly from you in ten years? Not a chance." The reporter tossed her Quick Quotes Quill into the air and it began to write. "Phoebe Feyereisen. Lead features reporter here at the Prophet."

"Draco Malfoy. Hermione Granger's boyfriend."

Feyereisen grinned and said, "I think we can all agree that is your most impressive title."

"Sounds better than 'reformed Death Eater' at any rate," quipped Ron.

"You are delightful company, as always, Weasley."

"This is why we never hang out anymore." Potter ran one hand through his hair and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "Why spend time with my best friends when I can get the same amount of petty conversation from my sons without leaving the house?"

"Right, let's start at the beginning." Feyereisen's quill never even paused. "This article is not meant to be combative or any sort of gossipy Witch Weekly skrewtshit. Life is hard for a lot of people this time of year, I know, because we finally get our kids back only to send them back to school far too soon. When Ms. Granger approached me with the idea for this piece, I thought it would be interesting for our readers to see what your families look like and what your roles are within them. Humanize the struggle a bit."

"I love that idea!" Hermione's eyes lit up. "Since we are all at different places in our lives, that sounds perfect."

"Let's begin with you, Mr. Potter."

"Right, okay, then." Potter shrugged. "Go for it."

"Tell me about your family."

"Well, my oldest son's eight. That's James, but we call him Little Jay because it irritates him and he scrunches his nose up when he's upset. It's adorable. My second son, Al, he is five nearing six. He is …" Potter trailed off. "He is a unique child and he's definitely got my hair. Always sticking up in a million directions."

Ah. Potter had a favourite.

"Tell me about your relationship to your wife." Phoebe Feyereisen blushed a bit and admitted, "I am a massive Harpies fan."

"Oh! God, yeah, Gin's the best. She trains so hard but she is a real team player, you know? Even at home, we parent together, we cook together, we're a team. But she's a leader. Gin doesn't take shit from anyone, and I think people respect her for it."

"That's true," Hermione insisted. "She always says what she thinks and never truly tries to hide it."

"Exactly," Potter agreed. "Things are a bit more difficult during Quidditch season because she's nearly always travelling or training. I stepped down as an Auror when Jay was four because we made it work with one child during the first couple years. Gin took a year off during the later part of her pregnancy so we could both spend time with Jay as a newborn. When he was two, we made it work with a combination of the offseason, nannies, and me taking random days off work to make ends meet. Then she got pregnant again and it was …" Potter frowned. "Not planned. It became clear quite quickly that dealing with a three-year-old and a newborn was not something we could do if I was at the Auror Office five days each week and Gin was with the Harpies six days each week."

"Wow."

"Now I'm a consultant for the Auror Office, so I still contribute, but my family is the most important thing to me."

"That is quite a sacrifice to make, giving up your career like that."

"It's not, though. Speaking as someone who has died, whose entire family is dead, I'd much prefer to spend every moment I can with my kids. I was living in a bloody cupboard when I was their age. I know what it's like to be living with parents who aren't around and substitute caregivers who don't fucking care." Potter winced. "Sorry, am I allowed to say that?"

Feyereisen nodded and said, "I can edit it out."

"Right, then, I'm not going to leave my kids to be cared for by other people. Fuck that. I would give up anything to spend time with them."

"Do you plan to have more children?"

"No, but the second one wasn't planned. Can't rule out a third, I suppose."

"Fantastic, thank you." She turned to Weasley and said, "You're next. So, tell me about your family, Mr. Weasley."

Draco caught Hermione digging her nails into the palm of her hand. Weasley was as ignorant of her pain as ever. He said,

"I'm really happy, actually. My wife, Alicia, just had our second child. Named her Molly after my mum. My eldest, Rose—"

Hermione bit back a groan and glanced down at the floor.

"Ms. Granger?" asked Feyereisen. "Is everything alright?"

"You should ask him why he named his first child Rose."

Weasley sighed.

"Hermione—"

She insisted, "Ask him. Let's see what he has to say about it."

Feyereisen raised one eyebrow and Weasley huffed,

"You said you never wanted kids, Hermione. I liked the name and Allie liked the name—"

"I said I wanted to name our daughter Rose. I told you that! You went and stole it from me because you thought you could. You didn't even ask, Ronald."

"It's a bloody name, Hermione!"

"It was a name I wanted to use!"

"Well there are four children between the three of us and none of them are yours!" Weasley shouted back. "What right do you have to be upset about a name you haven't had the opportunity to use?!"

Hermione's jaw dropped and Draco chuckled. He shook his head and said,

"That is so like you."

"What does that mean?" snapped Weasley.

"It means you don't know a good thing when you have it."

"I own my mistakes when it comes to my relationship with Hermione."

"As do I." Draco said, "The difference between you and me, Weasley, is that when Hermione made a mistake I gave her the opportunity to fix it."

Ron nodded and said, "You're not wrong."

"Since your divorce was chronicled in every publication throughout Europe, I have no interest rehashing it." Feyereisen rolled her eyes. "I have no interest in that gossip. However, I would like Ms. Granger to speak about her family."

Hermione replied, "That is a complicated discussion."

"Why?"

"Because family means many things, doesn't it? There was a point when Ron and Harry were my only family. Right now, though, my family is a bit odd. My parents are quite close with Draco's parents—"

"Are you serious?" The Quick Quotes Quill nearly flew off the page it wrote so quickly. "Tell me more about that."

"My dad and his mum are quite close. It happened and no one really knows why. Draco's father and my mum spend time together when the other two are out shopping or whatever it is they've decided to do that day. The bulk of my family, however, came from Draco."

"Oh?"

"We became friends well over two years ago, and it took six or seven months before it became something more. During that time, I got to know Draco as the centre of his family. He is so dedicated to everyone else that he tended to put himself last."

Feyereisen had no idea how true that was.

"I became very close with his godchildren, and we still nanny them together once a week. Theo, Blaise, and Bastien are all part of my family in a way because they are Draco's family. They care for me because he cares for me. Dean and I have been close for ages, so we found our place in this family together. Everyone helped me through one of the most difficult periods in my life and gave me a second chance when I did not believe I deserved one."

"You did," insisted Draco.

"I know," replied Hermione, "but I didn't know at the time. It was Draco's godchildren who inspired me to work on my newest project."

"Which is?"

"I am working on a day school for young magical children. I present it to the Wizengamot committee in two weeks' time. It came about because our goddaughter wanted to do ballet and there is a Muggle school with a fantastic ballet program, but—"

"Apologies," Feyereisen interjected, "did you say 'our' goddaughter?"

Without missing a beat, Hermione answered, "Yes."

"So you and Malfoy are … ?"

"Together."

"In what way?"

"In our way."

"That was not the question."

"Then I am afraid I do not understand the question."

"How do you define your relationship to Draco Malfoy, Ms. Granger? That is the question."

"He is my boyfriend."

"Just your boyfriend?"

"What do you mean, just?"

"Listen," said Draco, "I will give you the quote you are searching for. Hermione and I have been dating for eight months. In that time, we have laughed together, cried together, and created a strange little family. I love Hermione more than I have ever loved anyone. I love her more deeply than I knew I could care for anyone and I will spend the rest of my life dedicated to ensuring she can make the world a better, more tolerable place for everyone. Now, I believe it is clear I do not belong here. Hermione can handle herself with these tossers, she does not need my help. Potter and I have mended our relationship, for the most part."

"Agreed." Potter nodded. "I won't say we're friends, but mutual respect."

"Weasley and I have learned to tolerate each other."

"Only for Hermione's sake," added Ron. "But yeah, we're working on it."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Mrs. Potter about a new feinting maneuver."

"Will you answer one more question before you go?"

"Certainly."

"Do your parents approve of how you have chosen to live this part of your life?"

Draco thought on it for about thirty seconds. He frowned and wondered what to say. How could he frame the truth in a way that encapsulated all the tumult and drama of their relationship?

"My parents made several mistakes and it has taken years upon years for me to trust them in a meaningful way. Their approval has no impact on how I choose to live my life, but they have chosen to be part of this family. They are trying to understand. Whether they approve is not for me to say."

"Quite the diplomatic answer."

"Off the record, my parents invited a homicidal madman to live in our house. You could not understand the true terror of the Dark Lord until he was around every corner. Potter knows. Hermione knows. Weasley knows. His essence would hover in dark corners even after His death. It took years before I could get His voice out of my head, before I could recover from the use of the Cruciatus Curse or the repeated attempts at Legilimency. My parents nearly ruined me, and I told them I would choose Hermione over them if it came to that."

"You were tortured?" Feyereisen asked, surprised.

Draco's voice hardened.

"Off. The. Record."

.oOo.

Draco was summoned to his father's study a few days later. Lucius Malfoy was sitting behind his desk, reading that morning's edition of The Daily Prophet.

"'The Golden Trio and Their Contributions to the Next Generation.'"

Draco sat in a chair across from his father.

"This Feyereisen woman paints a favourable picture of you."

"Really?" Draco asked, surprised.

"She says, 'Draco Malfoy's most redeeming quality is his candor. When he speaks about his love for Hermione Granger, you can see the truth of it in his eyes. Pain is etched in the lines of his face when anyone references He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A large tattoo of an oak tree covers his forearm where the Dark Mark once stood out prominently against his skin, white like the glow of a full moon. Hermione Granger says it symbolizes the strength it takes for Draco to remain true to himself in a world that tries to tell him who he is.' The Granger girl did well."

"She is learning." Draco admitted, "I do not believe politics will ever be her strongest skill set, but she is too brilliant to be tricked into saying something harmful."

"I believe you are correct." He tossed a piece of parchment onto the desk. "Sign this and it is done."

Draco smiled.

"Are you serious?"

"Draco, have you ever known me to be prone to jokes?"

"I never thought you would do it."

"Everything is as you asked. The restriction has been removed; Scarlett and Sebastien will share equally in the estate should you meet an untimely end."

Draco shook his head and asked, "How did you manage this?"

"Lawyers like to believe they know everything because they can read. Malfoy is my name and my blood, Draco, you should know by now that Malfoys can do anything we choose with our name and our money. If every living Malfoy signs off on a change, then it is done." Lucius pulled out the bottom piece of parchment. "Your mother and I have signed. We are only waiting for you."

Draco Summoned a quill and signed, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Is this because you and the Granger girl do not plan to have children of your own?"

"No, we do. We have spoken about it, but there is always the possibility that Hermione cannot have children. Even if she can, there are so many things that could go wrong, and I want to ensure my godchildren get what they deserve from me."

"But you do intend to?"

"Yes."

"When do you plan to ask this girl to marry you, then?"

"Soon."

"Soon?"

"I have a plan, father."

"Is this a two-week plan or a six-month plan?"

"Somewhere between those two."

"My son—"

"Thank you for doing this for me, father." Draco stood up from his chair and said, "It means more to me than I can say."

"Your mother told me she gave you a ring."

"She did. It is in a shoe at the back of my closet."

"Before I proposed, I hid your mother's ring behind one of the books on a bottom shelf in our library."

Draco laughed.

"Clever."

"May I give you a bit of advice?"

"Truthfully, father, your marriage is the one thing I believe you did properly. If you have advice, I will listen."

"Before you ask the Granger girl to marry you, you need to have a man-to-man conversation with her ex-husband."

Draco frowned and asked, "You want me to ask his permission?"

"No! Merlin, no, Malfoys do not ask Weasleys for permission. I am saying you need to speak with him to define how your relationship will work going forward. Hermione wants to keep the Weasley boy in her life, and it will be awkward. Christmases, birthdays, hell, he is one of her best friends and might be at the birth of your child. You must prepare him for that reality so there are no surprises down the line."

"Right then, I will do it."

Skeptical, Lucius replied, "That seems too easy. There is always a fight with you, or at least questions."

"It was simple because you proved you want to be part of my family."

"Because I allocated our estate to the Nott children?"

"No, because you called her 'Hermione.'"