Measure Of A Man

by inadaze22

To truly know someone is to differentiate between who they once were, who they are now, and who they're capable of being. Hermione realises the duality of one man as she rectifies what she knows of the past and begins to understand the pieces of who Draco Malfoy is now: a father, a son, and a man.

35. Peace In Pieces

Thirty Five
Peace In Pieces

November 11, 2011

Snow moved like time.

Elusive, yet in constant motion, it swirled and flew by.

The view from Hermione's conservatory was, to employ a cliché, awe-inspiring. White dusted reds, golds, and evergreens. Drinking in the moment, she enjoyed the vision of beauty summarised by the single word reverberating in her head.

Change.

Like time, this change wasn't permanent. Just as one hour only lasted until the next, it was too early in the season for any of the snow to stick, but that didn't stop it from falling. Snow abided by no rules and cared little about the inconvenience of blurring two seasons into one.

Only two hours had passed since the first flakes dusted the window in a rush, but in that time, it ebbed and flowed, clinging to every surface it touched.

Beneath the beauty lay the truth of two seasons battling for dominance. The autumn sun sat high in the sky, peeking curiously through the thin clouds and stretching shadows across everything it reached. The winter wind whistled its tune, and the trees swayed in time, losing their leaves in its current before they fell to the ground.

This was only the first of many fights before autumn retreated and winter stood victorious.

Fitting, really.

Hermione touched the glass.

A chill seeped through the panes.

Winter wasn't Hermione's favourite time of year, but now that it entered her periphery, she realised its purpose wasn't just darkness and dormancy. It was a season for expansion, which could only occur through letting go of the things she'd outgrown.

It was the only way to evolve beyond what she knew.

It was time.

Hermione found herself at peace—ready to make way, accept, and embrace whatever was to come. The transition wasn't going to be easy, but it would be worth it. She hadn't created her change, hadn't conceived it, but it was time to handle it.

She used to believe that timing was everything, but learned that everything was timing.

Forever learning, now she was finding balance in the midst of the chaos.

The sensation wasn't simply falling or flying, she'd learned it was more of a rapid descent at a ferocious velocity. Still, Hermione hadn't hesitated over the previous days, but she hadn't rushed either. In truth, she had no desire to discuss any of it until everything was set in motion.

So, Hermione spent her days planning and plotting, locking herself in her office between therapy sessions and time with Scorpius. Her determination to keep everything running smoothly for him was prioritised around the meetings she'd taken, the deals she'd made, and the conversations she'd had.

Busy with the fallout of the Quidditch game attacks, investigating Greyback sightings, and a Ministry on the brink of disaster, Draco hadn't been around very much. When she did see him, most of the time they weren't alone, and the few times they were, it was hard to ignore the distance he kept.

Sometimes he began to unconsciously reach before stopping himself by shoving his hands in his pockets or bunching his fists at his sides. He was a ghost in their bed each night, there after she fell asleep but gone before she woke. The only remnant of his presence was waning warmth on freshly smoothed sheets. Hermione always knew when she hadn't slept alone, and the tea he left each morning was an unspoken affirmation.

Seeing these moments made it hard not to speak words and focus on actions.

But Hermione stuck to her plan.

Worked. Drafted. Coordinated.

Now, with everything set in motion, it was time to implement change. And, on a nondescript day after letting go, Hermione did just that.

She took her eyes off the falling snow and turned to the man sipping tea at the table while he perused her proposal. If Theo had been surprised her name appeared that morning on his Magi-Scheduler, he hadn't expressed it upon his arrival. After accepting the tea she'd made for him, there was no small talk.

What she wanted was laid out in words, ready to be put into action.

Her decision was made.

Each time the ever-blank faced Theo turned a page, a coil of anxiety tightened in her gut, but Hermione grounded herself in the confidence of her choice. This was the right thing.

Rather than hover, she glanced around the conservatory, catching sight of the Touch-Me-Not that had grown so much in the last few months—not unlike many other things that had been weighing on her mind recently.

Exhaling her resolve, she turned back to Theo again.

But he still wasn't finished.

In all fairness, the proposal was thirty handwritten pages divided into three main sections with multiple portions subdivided further. He was reading the third draft. Theo took his time flipping each page carefully, only sneaking surreptitious glances at her every so often. In truth, Hermione could have paced the length of the room, or worked on little tasks, but instead, she pulled out a chair, sat down, and waited for him to finish, watching for any signs of his innermost thoughts.

Minutes ticked on, cresting the top of the next hour and through the first quarter of it before Theo turned over the final piece of parchment. He then finished his tea and sat back. Hermione reached to refill his cup, but he stopped her with a shake of his head and a hand over the teacup.

Apparently, he was ready to talk.

"It's interesting how time seems to pass slowly, yet it still manages to catch us by surprise." Theo met her gaze with a gravity that equaled her own. "Like an hourglass, unless we're watching closely, rather than living through it, we don't see how much sand has gathered, drop by drop through the center, until it's formed a mountain."

Patience tempered Hermione's urge to immediately leap and push for clarification. Instead, she sipped her tea and internally grimaced at her attempt to replicate Draco's tea from that morning.

It was a poor imitation. She hadn't steeped it for long enough.

"It's hard to believe this month is nearly halfway over." Hermione rose to her feet and returned to the window. A small snowdrift was building on her swing and capping the pickets of the fence that divided her garden from the pasture. "Also hard to believe how cold it's gotten over the last few days."

Theo took his time joining her at the glass wall.

"I suppose it's fitting that it should snow when it's not supposed to." He sounded faintly amused. "Weather is perplexing like that."

"That's the beauty of it, I think." Hermione barely reached Theo's shoulder, but the space between them gave her room enough to see him without craning her neck uncomfortably. "Gardening forces me to pay attention to weather patterns. It's constantly changing and each day you learn something new."

"Like life, in a way."

"I've always thought that. As unpredictable as the weather can be, there's power in it, too."

The warmth of the conservatory was enough for the snowflakes to melt as soon as they touched the glass. They watched the snow blanket the vegetable garden. A phantom chill left her hugging her chest despite the sun's futile attempts to combat the cold. Theo picked up one of Scorpius' rehabilitation plants: a small succulent that was now beginning to bloom.

"Do you remember our first meeting about Narcissa's case?"

"Yes." The question caught her off guard. "Nearly eight months ago."

It seemed more like a lifetime.

The calculated silences she used to utilise to dissect and extract the true meaning of his words and actions were long over. Now, she just listened, equipped with a better understanding of who Theo was: not omnipotent, he was flawed and human.

Hermione found it hard to remember what their friendship was like in March, but now it felt solid enough to touch. Perhaps the last eight months had stripped her of her ignorance about the connections she hadn't known the depth of before. Perhaps the last eight months had reinforced them as well. Not too long ago, the threads of support, linked together and wrapped around her routine like a safety net, were quite literally holding her together.

"Everything changes."

"Yes, it does, no matter how much you wish otherwise." Theo placed the small plant back where it belonged. "Or how easy it is for things to remain the same."

A look passed between them. In it laid a truth and understanding that required no words.

"I'll confess there are times I wish I hadn't asked this of you." Theo's eyes returned to the visage beyond the panes of glass. "That you'd held firm to your reasons for saying no."

"Really?"

"It was a selfish gamble, but you were my best option for her." He combed his fingers through his hair. "In hindsight, of course, I wouldn't change a thing. This assignment was just what you needed. A push out of your comfort zone."

"More like a shove off a cliff, if we're being honest." A rueful chuckle escaped. "I tumbled the entire way down, hitting failure as often as success in the process."

"That you did." When Theo laughed, his shoulders shook, and she couldn't help but smile with him. Hers faded when silence began to stretch as long as the shadows painting the garden beyond the conservatory walls. "Now that you've landed, have you decided?"

"I don't think I've landed just yet, still in the freefall, but yes." Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled. "I need to do this, ethics aside. This move will ultimately benefit everyone involved. Roger is—"

"Ecstatic, I'm certain."

"I've never seen him so happy." She couldn't help the lilt in her voice at the memory of his wide smile at the prospect. He'd even invited her for a drink to celebrate her proposal and his acceptance. Hermione had declined, citing her current inability, a therapy appointment, and other business to tend to. "It's all a bit scary, actually."

Theo made a small, chuffed noise. "So, you've finally figured out what you want."

"I wasn't aware that you knew I was looking."

And, in some ways, neither was she.

Not for this and certainly not for them.

Or him.

"You were comfortable and content, but not satisfied."

"You could say that." She knew he wasn't wrong. "Though I wasn't aware of it at the time."

"You have a tendency to keep yourself busy for noble reasons, but also battle ennui you don't even realise you have. Then you begin to take on too much and…" He slipped his hands into the pockets of his navy trousers. "I find it's easier to watch rather than interject or try to orchestrate."

Hermione snorted. "Don't tell me you—"

"Not at first, no." His eyes seemed to scan the treeline before landing on her. "I was surprised when I began picking up the hints. Curious, even. If I turned a blind eye to some things, well—" His smile was slow and a bit boyish. "In the end, here you are, ready to fly."

"In order to do so, I have to give up the ground I'm standing on."

She'd said the same thing to Draco months ago under an endless expanse of stars.

Back then, she'd had control issues that hadn't allowed her to take any leap.

But now…

"You're right." Theo's sidelong glance was part curious, part conspiratorial. "Does Draco know?"

"I wanted this all to be set in motion before I told him. We have to talk, but I'd rather not until after Astoria's anniversary." Hermione was determined to be respectful to her memory. "Ten days."

"That… Hm." Theo was uncharacteristically hesitant. "While that is a good idea, are you certain about waiting?"

"I—honestly, I don't know."

"Elaborate."

"The timing isn't great, but I think I've been trying to replicate a semblance of normality we've never really had. We've always been intense. I've been curious, on edge, and drawn to him, if only to figure him out. Casual has never been in our vocabulary and I'm—I'm torn."

"Draco is a lot of things, but he isn't casual. At least, not about his heart, but that's something I, too, have learned in the last few months." Theo placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment before returning it to his side. "Much like a dragon's belly, it's the weakest part of him. He knows it."

Nodding at the treeline, she remembered every detail of the artistic depiction of his heart. He'd openly shared it with her for weeks now. Some parts she traced with her fingers after he slept, and other pieces held no meaning to her yet. Maybe one day Draco would tell her the story of each part and how they became the whole.

"I recall a time when he hated this weak part of him, even wrestled with it, but I think that's another thing Astoria and Scorpius have changed in him. I think he's struggled, but I believe he's found this peace with himself because of you grounding him."

Hermione chuckled. "Pretty certain I inspire more frustration than—"

"You forget the peace found in the eye of every storm."

The words lingered between them like motes of dust suspended in still air.

"When do you plan to tell him?"

"I—" She rubbed the back of her neck before drawing her cardigan tighter around her, despite not being cold. "I don't want him to think I'm doing this for any reason other than the truth."

"Which is…"

"He's my choice." The first she'd made for herself in a long time. "Draco was right to back away. I would have dragged my feet for ages knowing I didn't have to make any decisions to maintain the comfort of it all. I've done this before."

Theo gave her a look.

He had seen it, too.

"I'm all over the place emotionally, but it has to do with my desire for all the pieces of my life and future to fit together perfectly. But it's not just up to me. At least, it doesn't have to be anymore. In all my relationships, romantic and otherwise, I've always carried most of the weight, not realising that, with the right person, I wouldn't have to."

Years spent laying the groundwork with her parents, holding her peace when she needed to speak.

Staying with Ron and working to fix something that was years beyond its expiration date.

Giving pieces of herself to anyone in need and not accepting anything in return.

Overthinking everything with Draco.

"I was hesitant at first, because I wasn't ready for things to change, but a lot of good advice and support has led me here."

"Committing fully." Theo shifted his weight. "And Narcissa?"

Hermione cringed. "That's the next bridge I'm going to cross."

"Good luck."

"I'm going to need it."

"I'm not sure how she'll feel about you and Draco's relationship, but at least she likes you in her own way." Theo rocked back on his heels and tsked under his breath. "As your patient, she might not be ready to let you go."

"It's not like I'm leaving." Hermione nervously twisted the end of her french braid. "I'm going to stay on unofficially to help her transition over to Charles' care while recovering. Now that she's at least amenable to occupational therapy, he's up for the challenge and willing to stay until the end. I know it's not explicitly against my contract, but the lines are too blurred and compromised for me to stay on. Have been for quite some time, if I'm being honest. I've just been stubborn and probably a bit blind."

His hand returned to her shoulder, the grip a comfortable weight. "If you need anything—"

"As my boss, I only need your approval for my medical sabbatical and permission to start the Lead Researcher position when I complete my studies and training. But as a friend, I—no, we will need your support."

"You already have that. All of it. Did you think otherwise?"

"I thought you would argue with me more about it." Hermione shot him a sardonic look. "This is the assignment you pushed me to take, after all."

"Why would I resist?" Theo's eyes were earnest. He took his hand back again, running his fingers through his hair. "I would be a hypocrite if I stopped you. You deserve the same happiness Astoria asked me to make sure they both have; the happiness she wanted me to find for myself. If this is what I need to do to fulfill that request, if this is what I can do for you both, consider it done, without hesitation."

His words made Hermione feel as though he was relinquishing something to her.

Something that was hers to protect.

"Thank you."

"These next ten days will be hard for them both."

Hermione nodded with understanding.

"Draco has been… quiet and moody. I now understand that it likely has to do with a combination of factors warring for his attention all at once. What has transpired between you two that has prompted you to make this move, the Death Eater sightings, the upheaval at the Ministry, Cormac McLaggan not waking up, and the first anniversary. It's a lot for anyone to handle, and though I'm positive he'd never ask for it, he'll need your support."

"And what about you? Grief—"

"Is about honouring love and her memory. Isn't that what you told me before?" His eyes returned to Scorpius' table of rehabilitation plants. "Both of which are easy. I do it every day, but letting go of the pain is a process." Theo stepped back from her side and returned to the table to gather her proposal. "It would be a disservice to Draco to allow him to go into that day thinking he's alone."

---

Long after Theo left, Hermione stayed by the window, watching the snow slow until it stopped.

As ironic as it was, change was the only thing that remained constant, and everything she had done in preparation for it was actually for the transition.

Everything.

Hermione bravely held on to Theo's words as she stepped through the Floo that brought her to Draco's office.

The goal was to clear the air between them of the palpable tension, but he wasn't there.

Nor did he return during the first half hour she waited.

Hermione stared at the rows of books, organised senselessly, and watched the diamonds spin over the map. All the while, she mentally rearranged the words she was ready to say into some semblance of a coherent thought.

The second half hour was spent studying the runes on the side of the Pensieve and watering the plants in the terrarium to distract herself.

Or try to.

In the end, it was something unexpected that stole her attention.

A tingle of magic made her skin prickle when she leaned against his desk. Curious, Hermione looked at the tidy surface. Nothing looked different. Finite Incantatem removed some sort of concealing charm.

Thought you might want these.

-Daphne

The note sat next to his inkpot, and just behind it were three identical frames.

But it was the pictures within them that made her heart race.

The memories.

One of her and Scorpius dancing together at the wedding, their smiles bright as she spun him around.

The second was from Halloween, just the three of them. Scorpius' grin was so wide it forced his eyes shut. Hermione remembered the phantom weight of Draco's gaze, but what she didn't know at the time, what she couldn't see without the photo in front of her, was the way they traded sidelong glances out of sync.

One second sooner and they would have caught the other.

But the third photo was one she hadn't known existed.

Just the two of them.

Watching the firework display, lights danced in their eyes.

Bundled in his jacket, leaned against him, Hermione's focus was on the sky and his… was on her.

Contemplative and stoic.

And, beneath it all, evident only in the slight curl of his lips, was affection.

It was just as well that Draco never came.

She wouldn't have been able to find the words anyway.

---

November 13, 2011

The greenhouse expansion began at dawn.

Neville took charge of the charms while Hermione stood aside and watched with an excited Luna, a fully recovered Ron, and a yawning Dean. Complex magic stretched the space to its new dimensions before their eyes. Once finished, she stood in the centre of the empty space, trying not to feel too overwhelmed by the size.

After all, there was a plan to use the entire space.

A layout.

The three men got to work with their wands, creating the sections and pathways, while Luna set up the new speakers for the greenhouse. Luna was adamant that the plants enjoyed the ambiance, too. Hermione followed her friend as she went row by row talking to the plants about their new homes, and by the time they finished preparing everything to move, the space was ready.

Triple the size of her old greenhouse, compared to the cramped space behind her, it looked enormous. And as the plants were arranged on new tables with flicks of each person's wand, and as trees housed in pots were moved to a different corner, the space began to open.

Dean and Ron were chatting while taking a break mid-morning on a bench with Luna wedged between them.

Hermione wandered over to find Neville standing next to a large square of soil in the centre of the greenhouse. Oddly enough, there were two more dirt areas open in the floor that weren't nearly as large.

"Some trees do better in containers, like all of your citrus trees, but others have shallow roots that spread out rather than down and won't freeze in the winter."

Given all the new arrivals, Hermione didn't ask which trees would fit that description. She would have months to get her bearings and learn her new place.

Looking up, she realised something else had changed. "Why did you lift the roof?"

"To increase the air volume, which slows the change in temperature. It'll also help with ventilation. You have charms to regulate the temperature, but given the complex magic that holds this place together, I thought it might be best to do some things naturally. I've only set the charms to alert if it becomes too hot or cool."

"Makes sense."

Neville opened the book in his hand. The layout. "I'll show you where everything will go. There will be a lot of space now, even after the Malfoy greenhouse is empty. Plenty of room—"

"To grow."

She remembered her dream for this place.

Neville was quiet as they walked. "How's therapy?"

"Physical or mental?"

"Both."

"Mind is… I'm talking, much to my therapist's surprise." Not much about Scorpius or Draco, but more about past issues she put off for later. "I'll need to talk to my mother at some point. Honestly, I could use all the help I can get with that one."

He gave a low whistle of understanding.

"Physical is… there are a lot of test results I'm waiting for Susan to review." Hermione sighed. "At first, she thought it was psychosomatic rather than nerve damage, but now she thinks it might be both."

Neville winced.

"A slight permanent tremor, at the least, but I'm strangely okay with it. Opening my hand is getting easier, even if I can't hold anything yet. I'm getting better at casting with my left hand, and I can do wandless with my right."

"Still rushing back to normal?"

"No, I'm just taking it one step at a time. I assist Padma as needed, and we've both been preoccupied trying to figure out why Cormac hasn't woken up yet. It's helped keep my mind stimulated. I'm also transitioning Narcissa's care to Charles on a more official basis. For as much as I need to slow down, I don't think I'll ever be able to completely stop."

"No, you won't." Neville smiled and shook his head. "That's something I respect about you, even if I also would like to see you do more for yourself."

"I'm taking a leave of absence with a tentative return date once I finish classes and training. I'll be coordinating with Charles Smith as we produce and continue testing the efficacy and long term effects of Narcissa's potion. We'll also be testing it against other variables in search of a cure, not just to Narcissa's disease, but potentially to other magical neurological diseases as well."

"That sounds—wow. Back to Healer Academy."

"It's a shift in specialty, so I'll need proper training."

"A restart."

"Yes, and until then, I plan to focus on things that are important to me."

Neville appeared impressed but said nothing else on the subject. He led the way, showing her where things would go, making certain the map was accurate—for Scorpius' sake.

"Oh, before the kids come, I started asking other professors and the general consensus is that a fire of that magnitude would take dozens of bodies to either put out or contain long enough for it to burn itself out."

The idea sounded chaotic.

"But, I was thinking…" Neville shut the book and held it to his chest as he turned to her. "The fire is in stasis right now, neither burning nor extinguishing. The fastest way to starve a fire is to deprive it of oxygen. Not certain how that applies to cursed flames, but it might be worth exploration. What does Malfoy know about it?" Neville gave a single-armed shrug in response to her incredulous look. "What? I've had a crash course in Malfoy. Had to, given the way he just showed up with his plans already laid out. I know he's at least taken a look into how to put the fire out."

Hermione didn't doubt that either.

"He's likely the only one who has."

But not anymore.

Hermione ruminated over Neville's idea for the rest of the tour and the walk back to the house with Luna. The snow was long gone, the ground was too warm for anything to stick, but the wind hadn't let up. It was a blustery day that made them both bundle up. While Luna stood still, cheeks flushed from the cold, blonde head tilted to the cloudy skies, Hermione checked the charms she'd set over the vegetable garden to protect the plants from the unseasonably cold weather.

They looked good.

Luna skipped over with a bright smile, grabbed Hermione by the hand, and tugged her away from her task.

"Let's visit the fireflies."

"It's too cold for them."

"True." Luna pondered, tapping her chin with her gloved finger. "Better idea. Let's go and congratulate the naked trees and the fallen leaves."

"That makes no sense."

"It must be hard being you sometimes." The expression Luna gave her was one afforded to someone who'd had a tough life. It was as if she were truly sorry for the linear way Hermione's logical mind made her see the world.

Before Hermione could vocalise her offence, Luna moved on, pulling her along past the coop and into the field beyond. In comparison to Hermione, who blended with the landscape around them, Luna was boldly dressed in every colour on the spectrum. Nothing matched, right down to her raccoon earring in one ear and turnip earring in the other, but that had always been part of her charm.

Luna took off her orange knitted hat, and put it on Hermione's head, before folding the flaps over her ears.

"You should never lose heat from your head."

Hermione blinked. She would have said something, but Luna linked their arms and off they went.

The stroll took them along the stream and to the edge of her wards. The air was crisp and clean, and the breeze was refreshing, despite it being brisk. Their breaths crystallised in the air. The woods beyond were asleep with dormant trees, and the ground was stitched with empty branches and littered with leaves. They didn't cross the invisible line, only observed the fallen trees she'd never heard and watched as small animals scattered at the sound of their footsteps.

Life.

As they walked the border, Hermione noted all the signs of it.

"We celebrate naked trees because they've earned their rest." Luna touched the trunk of the oak tree they stood beside. They both peered up before she led the way past it, parallel to the invisible line of her wards. "We celebrate the leaves on their journey to see what's beyond."

"Can we go back? Pansy should be finished."

The days were shorter and the sun was nearing its peak. With each passing day, it grew cooler, and the ground would soon freeze, but Hermione hoped it would wait until the vegetable patch was ready.

By the time Luna and Hermione shed their jackets and scarves on the sofa and ventured upstairs, Pansy was just completing her assessment. The floating quill beside her head scratched notes as the measuring tape stretched itself from end to end.

Width then height.

"How is it going?" Hermione made her presence known, coming to stand next to her friend.

Luna walked to the lone window and frowned.

"Nearly finished." Pansy put her hands on her hips. "Do you want my opinion?"

"Always."

"Lies." Pansy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, the other room won't be difficult. It just needs paint and furniture, but to do what you want in here, it'll require either expansion charms or a wall removal."

"I'd prefer this to be done without magic, just as we've done for all the renovations. Feels permanent that way."

"And that's what you want, right?"

"Yes."

Pansy worried at her bottom lip, and after exchanging several looks with Luna, she rolled her eyes and exhaled a petulant sigh. "Sorry about yelling at you."

"Did Luna make you say that?"

"No, but I understand now. You were trying to navigate your feelings and I essentially tried to wring your neck. You've always been so private with everything, the only thing we know is what we find out accidentally. Honestly, I thought you were either going to drag him along or deny everything."

"Historically, you would have been correct."

"Defending Draco is the only way I've been able to protect him over the years. He never asks for help, he just takes the brunt of everything on his own. I know how he feels about you and think I was so absorbed in my own issues with Percy that I didn't notice your feelings for him. Daphne knew. Ginny did, too. Andromeda—" Pansy frowned. "Actually, Draco told me to stay out of it and leave you alone, but I was furious."

"I've kept a lot of things to myself, and then the attack at St Mungo's happened and the focus shifted. I'm still getting used to it, reaching out, asking, and understanding that it's not a weakness to lean on people. I'm still getting used to wanting—I still haven't had a moment to talk to him."

"I imagine not with everything going on. The investigations, dealing with providing guards to injured Wizengamot members, as well as the rest who are too terrified to even come to the Ministry. Any one of those on their own is a lot, much less all of them at once."

Hermione frowned. "Tiberius has been calling for justice everywhere, but not at his nephew's side."

"Has the flobberworm woken up yet?"

"We mustn't insult the flobberworms." Luna shot Pansy a dark look. "They've done nothing wrong."

Pansy pursed her lips. "Has the parasite woken up yet?"

Luna tilted her head but allowed it. "No, he hasn't. Theo's only letting trusted staff care for him."

Susan, along with two other Healers who had been vetted rigorously.

Hermione had been at his bedside inadvertently because of Padma.

Why?

Because the only time Cormac responded to anything was when Hermione spoke. More often than not, his eyes would open. Their focus was weak and dazed, but steadily on her nonetheless. He wasn't lucid, staring and blinking slowly, but when she occasionally spoke to him, his mouth would move as if trying to answer. At first, it was nothing but rasped breaths and garbled sounds, but two days ago, his finger twitched. Hermione had to stop a French Task Force member standing guard from drawing her wand.

"The moon sometimes forgets it's not alone." Luna's airy voice broke the silence. They both looked at the witch, who was sitting on the windowsill, legs swinging while she smiled like she held a secret. "He's surrounded by countless stars, some closer than others, and the sun he gets his light from. There's also the earth he can't bear to part from. The earth who, without him, would never have slowed down long enough for life to form."

I'm Earth. Who are you?

The moon.

"That was random." Pansy sounded more confused than ever. "The moon? It's daylight."

Luna's smile faded into something knowing, and her eyes never left Hermione's. "Talk to the moon."

"I—I haven't had a chance."

Pansy cleared her throat. "Would someone care to explain what the fuck that means?"

Hermione couldn't say anything for a long moment as blue eyes bore into her.

When Luna finally looked away, she hopped off the windowsill, skipped over to gather the blueprints off the table, and approached Hermione, who took them from her friend.

"I told Neville that I love him because he doesn't have Nargles." Luna tugged on her raccoon earring lightly. "You could always say that."

"So romantic." Pansy only grinned when Hermione elbowed her. "Does Draco have Nargles?"

"They left when Hermione was unconscious." Luna wandered a winding path to the wall before she reached out and touched it. "You should paint the room next door a pale yellow."

"That's a bit surprising for a guest room."

"I think it would fit perfectly." Luna smiled brightly, scribbling nonsensical symbols on the wall with her fingertips. "Surprises are always so wonderful."

They exchanged looks and shook their heads, watching their odd friend speak to the wall as Hermione looked down at the blueprint in her hands.

"I'll call my team when you're ready and everyone gets screened by security. They'll start with the addition downstairs." Pansy pointed at the wall on the blueprint that would need to come down for that to happen. "It'll branch off the living room and add value to your house, should you ever decide to sell."

"I don't care about value. I only care about if this space will have enough room."

"It will. Anything else you care about?"

"Making it a home that doesn't just belong to me."

"It already is." Luna radiated a hopeful happiness when she joined her friends. "Home is the people, right? Not the place."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "You're right."

A knock on the door made all three turn to see Ron as he walked in the doorway. He was sweaty from working on the greenhouse, flushed, and slightly hunched—Hermione quietly noted the need to raise the door frame.

"Umm, Ginny just got here with the kids. Dean's walking Albus and Scorpius to the trees, and I volunteered to come get you so Narcissa Malfoy would stop frowning at me."

Pansy clearly had a quip prepared, but stopped and scowled. "Be grateful for Bones. She's the only reason I'm holding my tongue."

Ron's beaming smile didn't fade, even after Pansy took Luna and the blueprints and left them alone. Hermione shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels.

All was quiet between them for several moments as Ron looked around.

"Finally doing something with this empty room?"

"Yes."

Another silence fell, but it didn't last long.

"This might be a weird question, but are we okay?"

"Of course." This was certainly not the conversation she was expecting. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I—well, I'm moving on and you're—"

"Happy for you." Hermione meant it. No matter what. "As your friend, I support you. Just as I hope you'll support me. I can't say I'm moving on, I already did that, but I will say I'm expanding."

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think it'll be easy for me. Susan is—I guess watching our relationship and then watching me chase after you for as long as I did, plus Lisa, I think—I'm not sure she's ever going to take me seriously."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I—" Ron blushed and cleared his throat. "I didn't really notice her until she silenced me at the pub, but then at the party and when you were unconscious, she—every time she gave me a status update for your parents, she sounded worn out. I just, I dunno, started bringing her coffee and then food, and I started asking her about her, and then I actually listened and wanted to know more."

Hermione smiled. "I hope you didn't cook for—"

"No, she'd hate me. Maybe I'll learn." Ron barked out a laugh, but it faded into something thoughtful. "I don't know what'll happen, maybe nothing, it's weird being uncomfortable and excited at the same time, but that's how I feel. I remember everything you said to me, and this time I'll do better."

Hermione understood because she would, too.

---

November 15, 2011

The arrangement around the circular table at the early morning restoration meeting was both a gift and a curse.

Close yet distant, Draco sat right across from her, but he kept his eyes trained elsewhere as his quill scribbled notes. He listened to Kingsley, when he spoke at the beginning of the meeting, and paid attention to each person during their status updates. Other than one comment to answer a question, he was silent. And if Hermione was being honest, she focused more on him than anything else.

It was habit by now.

Not worrying or uncomfortable, it just was.

Seeing him made all of her efforts not to think about him futile.

Made her more keen to talk to him after.

Kingsley sat on one end, Percy directly across, and her and Draco occupied the east and west while everyone else filled in between. With the announcement of Kingsley's bid for Minister imminent, there were other matters everyone wished to discuss.

Namely nominations for Kingsley's advisors.

They were all trusted positions, and everyone had their opinions on who should fill the spots.

The man himself sat in patient silence, not speaking, only listening. His hands were folded on the table as each person gave their recommendations, thoughts, and opinions for consideration. And though they disagreed on many of the advisor positions Kingsley, and would ultimately decide for himself, each of them pointed to one person as the next in line.

Percy Weasley.

They wanted him to be groomed to be the next candidate, should Kingsley decide to retire permanently. Percy was a natural leader, experienced with the restoration, from a family of war heroes, and well liked.

Respectable.

Kingsley didn't seem surprised by the nomination, but Percy was.

"I appreciate the consideration, but running the Ministry is not in my long-term aspirations."

Which piqued Hermione's interest.

He was more than capable, yet apparently unwilling. From his tone, the choice was firm, and Hermione was reminded he hadn't made it with only himself in mind. There was a second variable in his equation.

Pansy.

"That being said," Percy continued in the stilted silence of the room. "If I am considered for an advisory opportunity, I would like to continue my current position as well. I value my work at the Ministry, and even in the office of the Minister, but I—"

"Have a life," Kingsley finished, nodding sagely. "And that will be taken into consideration with my decision, of course, as I also intend to keep my bees."

There was a rumble of chuckles. Apparently, they thought he was making a joke.

A sharp look killed the noise.

"I hardly think you will have time for beekeeping." The Head of the Department of Mysteries looked incredulous. "There will be much to undo. You won't be able to—"

"I will." Kingsley's face remained perfectly even. "Something I have learned in my retirement is that life is about maintaining balance between each facet—always fluid, never stagnant. If anyone believes I will be a slave to the Ministry, please let me know so I can step down immediately."

Everyone began shifting uncomfortably.

Draco's quill stopped as he peered up, eyes scanning the room.

The backpedaling was instant.

"That isn't at all what I was suggesting. I was merely stating—"

"Beekeeping is more than just a hobby, it is my passion. It was the bees that reminded me of the reasons I should come back." He gave Hermione a quick look and appreciative nod. She lowered her head then lifted her eyes, catching a pair across the table that reminded her she hadn't been alone that day.

Their talk with Kingsley was yet another moment shared.

"Perhaps we should change the subject, as this is all currently hypothetical." Percy cleared his throat. "We should focus on nailing Tiberius to the proverbial wall."

"Has Cormac woken yet?" The question came from somewhere on Hermione's right.

"No." Hermione had only just left the hospital the night before. No signs of improvement apart from the sporadic hand and leg movements. She and Padma weren't sure what to make of the development, so she called for a meeting with all the teams to compare observations.

They were currently awaiting results.

"Have we secured his memories?" the Ministry's librarian asked, raising a brow at Hermione's visible recoil. "I understand there was an inquiry about yours, Miss Granger, and Tiberius wanted to extract them while you were unconscious. However, this is different."

"I don't see how." She crossed her legs, levelling the witch seated two people away from Draco with a hard look. "It's unethical, so no, we haven't extracted his memories because he cannot currently consent. We also have no way of knowing the condition of his mind, and his heart has already stopped twice. When he wakes, we'll have a better idea and at that point we will—"

"This is a different circumstance, and decisions must be made to—"

"We will do this the right and legal way, or we are no better than them," Hermione snapped.

"Miss Granger." The Head of the Department of Mysteries sounded slippery with his interjection. "While we are all pleased to see you on the mend after—"

"Please spare me the platitudes." Hermione's words were out before she could pull them back. "Say what you have to say so I can continue to make my point."

"Very well, I think your judgment is clouded by what happened to you. You are part of the care team for Cormac McLaggen, and have the opportunity to seize something we need, yet you have not—"

"My judgment is sound." Hermione rested her hands on the arms of the chair, straightened her spine, and took a deep breath. "We will not steal his memories. We'll acquire them legally. End of discussion."

Hermione stared at the wizard then locked eyes with everyone else she thought might want to comment.

No one said a thing.

Harry's foot nudged hers. Only then did she notice the tension in the clench of her jaw.

I'm fine, she mouthed to her best friend.

He didn't believe her.

Across the table, Draco sat his quill down and leaned back.

"How are the translations going?"

Hermione didn't hear who asked the question, too focused on the person ready to answer it.

"Smoothly." Draco peered over at the Head of Games and Sports. "I've sent all prospects to Percy. Have you had any successes?"

"We have the two options that you sent currently working their way through our chain of command," Percy said. " Should they hold true, we will need to act swiftly on the remaining Wizengamot members, as we will require a two-thirds vote for anything to pass. They are down ten seats, and the others are in fear of their lives after the attack at the Quidditch game. For all of Tiberius' declarations, they are not safe and I believe they know this. We can use that to sway their opinions of him and, in turn, their votes."

"The Minister is still in office. Should we push this now, if we use their fear and succeed, we'll give power to a barely-competent Minister before an election Kingsley has yet to step into." The Librarian turned her attention to Kingsley. "You need to issue a public statement."

"And set Tiberius off?" The Head of Games and Sports scoffed. "No. Not yet."

"Perhaps we should shift away from overruling the law and focus on bringing Tiberius down." Draco flipped through a few pieces of parchment. "Something to do with the secret meetings he takes. We all know there's nothing right or legal with the way he handles things. Let's focus on that weakness and exploit it for public consumption."

"We have yet to figure out exactly what that entails."

"The beetle." Percy exchanged a look with Draco. "We're scheduled to talk, if you want in."

Draco couldn't hide his intrigue. "I do."

The Head of the Department of Mysteries cleared his throat. "How exactly does your idea work, Mr Malfoy?"

"It's simple." Grey eyes cut over to the man whose tone was dripping with condescension, and while Draco seemed more relaxed than he was a few minutes before, Hermione could tell he was gearing up for battle. "Cut the head off the snake and the body will die. Depose Tiberius and it will also bring down the Minister by proxy. They're symbiotic."

Hermione made a small noise that drew everyone's attention. "He has a point. Even if the Wizengamot remains in control, they're in a state of panic. Some of them are just as corrupt as Tiberius, too. There's no doubt in my mind they're using the chaos to purge their sins."

"Exactly." Now, Draco was talking to her. "They don't trust Tiberius enough to even set foot in the Ministry now, and not one of them is capable of taking over the role, which is why it will be easy to depose him and the Minister, then strong-arm them into bringing Kingsley back in the interim."

"With the election coming, regardless of when Kingsley steps in, he would be guaranteed to—"

Only when someone coughed did Hermione realise everyone was watching them.

"What you're both saying makes sense." The Head of Magical Artefacts leaned forward and looked around the table. "The problem is that Tiberius has gone off the rails to keep power. He's expecting a coup like this, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's already made moves to protect himself."

She and Draco exchanged looks with Harry, Kingsley, and Percy. What they knew about her memory along with Cormac's attack kept them all silent.

"He's all but locked himself away, is not doing his job, and isn't accepting visitors or attending Wizengamot meetings." Kent, who ran the Wizengamot Administrative Services, shifted in his chair. "He has been loud about the attack at the game, but his words have been empty. Overall, he seems scared."

"Which brings us back to Cormac's memories and how Miss Granger refuses to extract them while he is unconscious." The Head of the Department of Mysteries narrowed his eyes at her. "She is in the—"

"She is sitting here," Hermione said in her own defence. "And she is not willing to put herself in that position, should there be any sort of inquiry. I could have my license revoked for breaking my Healer's Oath. It's not worth it, not for any good."

"It appears that she has made herself clear." Kingsley suppressed his amusement but only just. Harry smothered his laugh into a cough. "Another avenue will be needed."

There was a bit of rustling in the room as they shifted from one topic to another.

"Kingsley, have you made your recommendation for the Undersecretary position? I believe you should have that position already cemented when we announce your campaign. The current Undersecretary is unreliable and has been put in the position to agree with Tiberius."

"I imagine you're bringing this up because you have a nomination." Kingsley settled back in his chair, patiently waiting.

"We collectively have a nomination: Hermione Granger."

Hermione froze.

That was news to her.

She looked around, rattled by the abruptness of being volunteered for a position she had no desire to hold. "I wasn't aware that I had put my hat in the race, so to speak."

"The role of Senior Undersecretary is clear." The Librarian picked up the parchment sitting in front of her. "They are essentially the most important role next to the Minister himself, and are neutral in political matters. Their loyalty would be to the Ministry as an institution, and not to a particular Minister of Magic. Miss Granger, you are young and perfect for the position, and you would have the collective support of everyone in this room."

"I have a career outside of the Ministry."

"Do you?" the Head of the Department of Mysteries asked. "Because I've heard rumours of damage to your hand that may jeopardise it."

Hermione wasn't the only person put off by his statement.

Percy leaned forward, Kingsley looked up, and Harry tensed next to her.

The tapping of Draco's fingers against the wood was especially loud in the silence that followed.

"As I said, I have a career." Hermione locked eyes with the man. "Outside of the Ministry."

She might as well have been speaking to a brick wall.

"I believe your ethics were displayed today regarding your sound decision about McLaggen." The Librarian's comment sounded like an insult. "I believe it reinforces the point that you are the perfect candidate."

"No, what you all are failing to hear and understand is that I have a career that I have no plans to give up. So, while—"

"Then why join the restoration at all if you have no intentions of helping?"

"As I've stated before…" Hermione curled her right hand into a fist before slowly opening it again. She kept her tone patient and calm. "I joined because I believe in the cause, and I have assisted in several matters."

"No one is downplaying your assistance, Miss Granger." The Sports and Games Head gave her a look that spoke highly of his respect. "We collectively believe that you would be best suited for this position."

"You are loyal to the Ministry and its principles." The Librarian's voice was grating, even though she sounded as if she were trying to be nice. "You're impartial enough to work with Draco Malfoy without incident, you're willing to stand on an ethical high ground, even when no one agrees with you, you will do what is right, not for the individual, but for the institution. This is why you would make an excellent Undersecretary."

Hermione looked across the table at Draco, whose finger was still tapping, despite the full force of his attention on her. His face was placid, yet it was clear he was listening. As was Percy. Kingsley, too, but he was also jotting notes with his quill.

"I understand that, and I appreciate the nomination." Hermione exhaled her frustrations. "But I wish someone would have spoken to me before entering my name for consideration."

"It's an honour that won't come around again." The Head of the Department of Mysteries was testing her patience. "You would do well to consider the nomination before dismissing it so completely."

"You have made a bold statement to the Wizengamot about change, and now is your chance to be part of the change you sought," the Librarian added. "You should consider this."

Driven by the growing tension, the others began to look around at each other.

"I have a career." Hermione was doing everything possible to maintain her composure.

"One that you can quit."

"I'm not quitting at this time to return to the Ministry. That has never been an aspiration of—"

"It's your duty!" The Librarian's shrill tone made Hermione's anger spike. "Not just to the restoration, but to the Ministry you still believe in."

A tense, deafening silence settled over the room. Hermione looked down to steady herself, feeling her frustration ready to spill over. She understood their point and the argument they were making, but being presented with a demand for her compliance was—

"That is where you're mistaken." The strength of Draco's voice shattered the silence. "Her only duties are to herself. They are not to the Ministry nor the role you are all pressuring her to accept."

It felt as though all of the air was sucked from the room, leaving a quiet stillness in its wake.

"Mr Malfoy, we were speaking to—"

"I'm perfectly aware of who you were speaking to, but I've grown tired of sitting here while you continue to argue with your own nominee." His tone was even, but anger rolled in his voice. "The disrespect you all have for her is blatant."

"I believe—"

"You recommend her for a position without prior discussion or consent, and when she declines, you try to force her to accept it like it's some sort of honour. And when she continues to refuse, you use her injury as though you're doing her a favour and giving her the gift of a career to fall back on. She doesn't owe any of you anything, not even an explanation for her refusal."

Hermione could do nothing but blink at his fierce defence.

Harry folded his arms and sat back, always ready for a show.

The Librarian looked flustered, as did others.

"I—"

"This is supposed to be a restoration, but you all are no better than the regime we're trying to overthrow. One that would use her without thought or consideration; one that would argue duty over self. The greater good. She is more than capable for the position, but that doesn't make it her responsibility to accept what you're offering. It is not her duty. She is not a puppet, nor is she a weapon."

"That's not—" The Librarian stopped, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm confused as to why you're fighting Miss Granger's battle."

"This isn't a battle," Draco snapped. "This isn't even a discussion. This is a decline. The answer is no."

With that, he stood up and walked out.

Hermione watched him go, heart thudding in her chest, skipping harder when the door slammed loudly behind him. Between exchanged looks and murmured whispers, everyone was watching her. Hermione quickly quelled her racing pulse, stretched her clenched hands in her lap, and addressed the room.

"Any further discussion on the topic?"

No one said a word.

Hermione stood and left with the intent to track Draco down, but he was already gone.

After running a hand over her hair in frustration, she took a moment to think, but was drawn to the entrance of the library, just as she had been the first couple of visits. She knew she needed Draco for admittance, but that didn't stop her from looming closer, wondering if he'd gone inside. Maybe she could catch a glimpse before the wards turned her away.

But with each slow step she took, Hermione realised something.

That feeling of dread never manifested.

The wards admitted her.

Hermione was too shocked to move, much less enter when a wizard appeared in the doorway.

"Are you looking for something?"

"I—is there anyone inside?"

"Just me."

"Oh, okay." She stepped back, trying to clear her head. "I'll just… go."

Hermione wanted not to be alone when she went inside. It didn't feel right being there without Draco leading her through the shelves and warning her what not to touch.

She left with the awareness that admittance was more than a gift.

It was a statement.

---

Hermione stepped out of the Floo, ready to track Draco down, but she found Narcissa waiting for her.

"It's noon." Narcissa folded her hands in her lap, appearing vaguely suspicious. "You scheduled us to have tea today while the children were in lessons."

"Oh, yes." Despite seeing her at breakfast, Hermione had forgotten. "Apologies for being late."

Thirty minutes later, Hermione was on her second cup of tea, sitting in a stiff chair next to where Narcissa was just finishing her first cup of a light berry blend on the sofa. Hermione might have scheduled the talk, but her first attempt at speaking had been interrupted by Narcissa's request to finish her tea.

Now, she was waiting for the first move to be made.

Her move.

Still pants at chess, and too stubborn to sacrifice any pieces, she was once again left in a silence that threatened to expand and multiply until it enveloped them both. Their location—one of Narcissa's choosing—was not a place she'd spent much time: the sitting area in Narcissa's quarters.

Unfamiliar territory to Hermione, but something of a comfort to Narcissa.

It gave Narcissa the advantage.

To pass the time, Hermione's eyes skimmed the room, taking in the little bits and pieces of Narcissa Malfoy. The witch herself didn't seem pressed for immediate conversation, but Hermione could tell—by the stolen glances, the new location, and the tea—that they both knew they were playing a game.

Unlike their first stilted talk months ago, today it dawned on Hermione just why she was so bad at chess: she refused to learn anything about the game.

Out of laziness, she'd just kept playing while chronicling her mistakes. If she truly wanted to improve, she had to stop focusing on individual moves and invest her attention in the game as a whole.

Which called for improvisation.

The key to winning was the ability to assess risk, which involved a certain level of awareness. Each moment afforded her an opportunity to confidently choose the correct piece to wield or seize.

"You seem restless, Miss Granger."

"Without lifting a finger, I can count on one hand how many times we've taken tea in this room."

Narcissa looked around. "Although very different, it reminds me of my favourite room at home."

The Manor.

"It is strange that I still think of it as home. So many awful things happened there. Perhaps I feel this way because such a large part of my life was spent there." She looked at the painting over the hearth. "Perhaps my heart is still there, in more ways than one."

Hermione couldn't help but remember her first and only visit to the grounds.

The words Draco had said. The honesty in his voice. The fire reflecting in his eyes.

"Maybe home isn't just the place where your heart is, maybe it's the place that knows you best."

Narcissa nodded, lost in her own introspection. "I suppose that is why I'm not attached to this home outside of these quarters. I feel more comfortable at my sister's." She looked at Hermione like she was evaluating a strategy: patient and calculating. "Does your home know you best?"

"It does." Hermione knew she had to be careful. "But I won't lie, this home has good memories as well."

Lots of them. Projector nights with Scorpius. Sign language. The growth of their bond. So many conversations with Draco in his office. The kitchen. Outside. The time spent here after her attack was tough, but little snatches of emotional moments here and there lingered in her memories.

The highs and lows mixed—the bad memories, the good ones, the fights, the comfort, the stress, the peace—and settled into something neutral that just felt like life.

Nothing unbelievably dramatic.

It just was, and all of it was a part of her.

Perhaps her respect for this home had to do more with the people within its walls than the memories they held.

"Why did you want to take tea with me today, Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned at the question, only to find Narcissa watching her, teacup and saucer floating above the table.

She had made the first move.

A strategic one that cut directly to the chase while she'd been willing to sacrifice a few pawns before making real effort.

There was no option but to meet her directly.

"I'm resigning."

"Oh." Narcissa appeared shocked. "I am aware we do not always see eye to eye—"

"My decision has nothing to do with you, but it is a personal choice."

"Ah, I see."

"Charles Smith is willing to take over your care indefinitely. I have agreed to remain on as an assistant of sorts until he's fully settled in the role. You would need to accept this change, of course."

Narcissa was quiet for a few tense moments. "Does my son know?"

"Not yet. Scorpius doesn't either. I wanted to talk to you first. Not just about this but—"

"You say it is personal, your reason for resigning, but you did not explain how."

"I suppose we could start there." Hermione shifted in her seat. "It's… complicated."

"I imagine so, if it involves my son."

"And—" She made a great effort to keep her composure. "And what if it does?"

"I have promised Draco not to interfere or push marriage, but I have also watched you both over the course of the last few months. Disease aside, I still recall the conversation we've both been avoiding."

"I wasn't avoiding it. I stand by my statement that the timing wasn't right back then, but now it—I think it is."

"Very well." Narcissa was incredibly hard to read. "I have several opinions."

"I'm certain you do." Hermione shook her head. "But the only opinion that matters above all is Scorpius'. Believe me when I say I'm not here to fight about this, nor am I naive enough to think you'll offer your blessing, despite the change in our relationship. I'm simply here to notify you of my intent."

"Ah, yes, to ask for a blessing there would need to be something official in place." Narcissa cleared her throat and took a moment. "With the way Draco has been quiet and sullen these past few weeks, I imagine that is not the case."

"There isn't anything, no. Not at this moment, at least."

"Interesting. I was certain he had been courting you." When Hermione's eyes went wide, Narcissa got comfortable enough to smile thinly. "Ah, so he has. That explains some things."

"As far as I remember, he resisted your insistence on remarrying long before I came into the picture."

"He entertained my wishes at first with no intent to fulfill them, but his refusal became more and more brazen over time. I suppose you are the reason he wanted to look at our employment contract back in June. I incorrectly assumed then that his interest was in reviewing for any errors." She smoothed down her robes. "How long has he been courting you?"

At first, Hermione couldn't find the answer because her mind was standing still, hovering over one word.

June.

When in June? Was it before the Solstice or after? Before their fight? After their makeup?

She felt lightheaded at the thought of Draco even considering her in that capacity so early—well before she so much as spared him a thought beyond the little sprouting seeds she'd tried to tug out by the roots.

Then she felt guilty.

For so many reasons.

Her lack of awareness and time wasted.

Her fear of what was unknown and beyond her scope of experience.

Choosing to fall involved an analysis of the investment in her heart, mind, and soul. It appeared she wasn't alone in that. Whereas it had taken Draco little time to decide her worthy, it had taken him pulling her along for her to decide on him.

She was shaken, riddled with understanding, and frustrated at herself more than anything.

But then Hermione inhaled, settled her thoughts, and turned to the witch waiting for her response.

"Since the end of July. Unofficially, of course."

If Narcissa was surprised, it didn't show. "And officially?"

"I can't answer that until I get a chance to discuss everything with him."

"And if I were to ask you to stay on?"

"The—" Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I would have to decline."

"And should I disapprove of your relationship with my son?"

"I've never been under the impression that you would approve. I believe you and I have built respect for each other in the months I've been your Healer. We've found common ground since my attack, but I don't believe you find me at all suitable." Hermione was nervous, but she needed to say this. "You've stated it before, albeit in a very roundabout way."

She hadn't forgotten the comment.

"The positive in this is that you're not meddling in his affairs anymore, so the decision is squarely his to make. I'd rather not fight with you over Draco, but I will if I have to."

Narcissa made a small noise. "Interesting."

Hermione remained defensive as ever. "I'm not sure how."

"You're passionate, Miss Granger. I watched you with Scorpius at first. I said little and allowed you to bring him plants. I bet you have always wondered why I changed so quickly. But, you see, it was an easy choice to make, even then. I saw him changing, and that benefited us all. I thought you were the key to him speaking again, and from what I've heard, I was correct."

Though Hermione wanted to respond, there was nothing to say.

"My fault is that I made a lot of assumptions about you. I believed Scorpius to be one of your causes. Your projects. Once he was better, I thought you would step back and deem him fixed." Narcissa shook her head, a dry chuckle escaping her. "I realised during our argument on Solstice that I had miscalculated. You fight for your causes, yes, but Scorpius is more than that to you."

"He is."

No need to deny it.

Narcissa rose to her feet, slowly walking around the coffee table. Her back was to Hermione as she focused on the bookshelf.

"You fight like he is yours." Voice low, Narcissa cast a glance over her shoulder. "I knew it was inevitable that we would one day have this conversation when you began to fight for Draco like that, too."

Hermione went rigid, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"You care for him."

It wasn't a question to be answered or a statement to be validated. It was an understanding that wrapped them both in a silence that stretched across the room.

"I—I do."

It was becoming easier to admit feelings that felt much deeper than the phrase.

Narcissa gestured for her to approach, and she did so slowly, under the watchful blue eyes of the Malfoy Matriarch.

"It is not simply that I believe you to be unsuitable for him," the older witch began. "Your view of the world is one thing, but in addition to my other issues that I will not list, I do not think you are capable of taking the risk. You give so much of yourself away. Admittedly admirable, but what will be left for him? For them both? Draco and Scorpius must become a priority you are not willing to set."

"I'm not surprised you believe this about me. I spent a lot of time with blinders on, but my eyes are wide open now." Hermione's voice was firm with every bit of her conviction. "No, I'm not willing to set everything aside, that's not who I am and I won't change that for anyone, but I am building a space for you all. For them. For him."

They already occupied space in her heart, and now her home would be a reflection of that as well.

"When we first met, you were adamant about Draco not being alone after you were gone." Hermione reached for her hand and held it steady. "I promise you, here and now, he won't be. Neither of them will."

And then she let Narcissa go.

Excusing herself with a nod before she buckled under the weight of the moment's significance, Hermione made it all the way to the door, and was reaching for the knob when Narcissa's voice pierced the silence.

"I accept your resignation, Hermione. And you."

---

November 16, 2011

Scorpius was sullen.

Not an unfamiliar sight, he still had his moments, but Hermione still did a double take upon spotting him on the sofa. First, she looked around for Catherine, but the room was empty, save for the little boy.

Her first official meeting with Charles and Narcissa had ended on a positive note, but it had run much longer than anticipated. She'd hoped to be done by the time they finished lessons on their half-day but that hadn't quite worked out. The Potters were likely off for an afternoon with George, and Scorpius looked up from staring at nothing when she sat down.

He immediately leaned on her heavily like he did when he was tired or a little glum.

Definitely sad.

Wordlessly, Hermione lifted her arm and wrapped it around him, holding him close. They stayed like that until Catherine came in, gave her a nod, and turned around. Then they stayed like that until Scorpius was finally ready to talk.

Hermione expected sign language, but he gave her his precious words instead.

"Can you come with me?"

She would never tire of hearing his voice. "Of course."

They got up and she let him lead her by the hand, not needing to know the destination, only that she would follow. When Scorpius stopped in front of the door where his mother's belongings were stored, he peered up at her, almost as if asking permission.

Hermione hadn't been inside, this place wasn't for her, but this was something he and Draco did together at least weekly.

"Are you certain?"

Scorpius nodded and opened the door.

The room appeared different from before. Emptier. More organised. She had to wonder if Draco had finally started to clear it out and let some things go. There wasn't much time to explore, not that Hermione was inclined to. She followed Scorpius right to the portrait that remained just as she saw it before.

She never knew Astoria, nor did she remember her from Hogwarts, but the painting of her was as beautiful as she'd imagined her to be. Posed on a chair, Astoria stood out from all the darkness streaked in broad brushstrokes around her.

Fitting, really.

Soft and beautiful, there was something captivating about her. Perhaps it was her fair skin or the striking shade of her hair. It wasn't quite as ethereal as the Malfoys', but it looked angelic nonetheless, painted down past her shoulders. But the more Hermione looked, the more she realised it was the witch's eyes that captivated her attention. Exactly like her son's, but with an extra spark of intelligence and the strength of firm resolve. There was something regal in her stance, even though her likeness was frail. It only spoke to the power of her presence. She didn't allow the artist to take liberties or make her appear healthier than she was.

Genuine.

Hermione settled on her knees next to Scorpius as he studied his mother's face with the slow drag of his fingers. And then he placed his hands over his heart.

"Are you remembering?"

Scorpius nodded.

"You can talk about her whenever you want. Not just to your dad or Albus or Harry, I'll listen, too."

"Don't hold it in," Scorpius whispered. "It's okay."

Likely something he learned in therapy.

Reinforced by his father.

Scorpius looked at her, and for the first time in a while, Hermione had no idea what he wanted her to do. So, she said what was on her mind.

"Your mummy would be so proud of you."

It stopped him cold.

A familiar, complex swirl of emotions seemed to grab hold of him. Tears welled in his eyes, but they didn't overflow. He looked at the painting again, and his small hand curled around the frame. When his tears finally fell, he didn't wipe them away.

Hermione rested a steady hand on his back and looked at the portrait with him. For all his traits she knew came from his father, there were so many pieces of his mother in him, too.

Scorpius turned to her.

"She wants you to be happy." Hermione wiped his eyes. "She loved you most."

More than life itself.

A sacrifice Hermione understood deeply.

Fiercely.

And when Scorpius hugged her again, tucking his face in the crook of her neck, Hermione held him close and tried not to cry.

"Do you love me too?"

His fragile question was one she didn't expect, but the answer was as obvious as it was effortless.

Hermione hesitated twice before pressing her lips to his hair. "I do."

---

The move was nothing if not impulsive.

She left a note in Draco's office requesting his presence, and attached it to the blueprint of her house.

Scorpius had a free afternoon, and they both had a need to get out. With Draco—or their looming talk—not expected for hours, Hermione decided to relax, divert her thoughts, and make the short walk to fulfill a promise made that past summer.

Security tried not to stand out in the crowd.

Hermione appreciated their efforts, but the farmer still appeared suspicious of the two men lingering by the doorway, unsmiling and watching everything. Admittedly, they looked a bit ridiculous, but she understood the need for them now more than ever.

Scorpius was so overwhelmed to be at an actual farm that he hadn't left her side. Despite the kind farmer's permission, the little boy only relaxed enough to peek at the cows that roamed freely.

"You're looking for chickens?" the farmer asked.

"Yes, I am. Baby chicks, if you have them."

"How many?"

"Two."

"Oh, I have three!"

She and Scorpius exchanged looks. The plan was for two so that one wouldn't be alone, but by doing that, she would be leaving another one alone elsewhere. It seemed that Scorpius knew that as well.

There was no other option, so they left with three baby chicks.

The next few hours were spent getting the baby chicks set up in their new home—not in the bathtub, but in the corner of the conservatory. Of course, she wanted to avoid Pansy's screams, but it was also the warmest room of the house.

Hermione relocated all the plants in the area, and in their place, she put the large, floating chicken brooder and warming lamps. Scorpius diligently laid out the bedding, water, and feeder. After turning on the warming lamp, powered by magic, Hermione let Scorpius do the honours of placing each baby chick in its new home. The plan was to keep them there and gradually acclimate them to being outside. The coop was warded for warmth, predators, and most everything else, so the transition wouldn't be too hard, but they needed this time away from the others to grow.

They both sat there for a while and watched them all bounce around and chirp as they got accustomed to the cage.

Or, Scorpius did, with his little hands on the brim, peeking in.

Hermione spent the majority of her time with her eyes on him.

She'd shown him twice how to get a chick to approach, but Scorpius hadn't yet been successful. It didn't deter him or dim the wonder in his eyes.

She didn't think he would ever tire of the sight. Neither would she.

Hermione briefly left his side to complete a few simple tasks: watering the plants and heating up a vegetable casserole Andromeda had made for dinner. While it warmed, she brought her parchment into the conservatory and worked on her list. Checking off what was done, she added little notes about new tasks that needed to be completed.

"How are they liking their new home?"

Scorpius signed that the chicks were asleep—she remembered little naps they often took from the first set. Joining her on the sofa, he peered at her parchment in a way that reminded her he might not understand all the words, but he probably understood some.

She put it away.

"Do you want me to read to you?"

No.

The response was followed by him leaning against her.

They both enjoyed the silence and each other. It was a peaceful moment that felt like the calm before a storm. She hoped not.

At least half an hour passed in quiet contemplation, with Scorpius pointing at things in the conservatory and signing what they were.

Showing her what he'd learned.

Draco had to be teaching him regularly. There were words and phrases he knew that she hadn't taught him, and even a few he ended up teaching her. After a while, she could smell the food, which meant it was nearly done. The chicks were chirping again, fresh from sleep, and Scorpius went back to trying to lure one into his hand just as she'd shown him.

Hermione didn't see Draco until just after the kitchen door shut behind her.

Standing at the island, there was no telling how long he'd been there, and he didn't look the least bit happy. Which hurt. Hermione could quietly admit that to herself. She picked up the potholders and opened the oven, pulling out the casserole with her good hand and placing it on the counter.

"You wanted to speak to me?" No preamble. Tone dry. He wouldn't even look at her.

"I do—"

There was an especially loud chirp from the conservatory.

"I bought chicks."

"I'm aware." Draco folded his arms. "Security notified me of the trip."

"Oh." For the first time, Hermione's confidence faltered. "I—"

"It's fine." He shook her off. "Where is Scorpius?"

"In the conservatory watching them, likely trying to gain their trust." And because it was easier to talk about the little boy than the reason she'd asked his father to come over, Hermione rambled on, hoping her nerves would ease. "I wonder if he would benefit from having a traditional pet. They teach children responsibility. You should see the way he is with Daphne's—"

"Is this why you asked me here? Is this what you wanted to talk about, Granger?" Draco's jaw tensed. "I don't have time—"

"I was just suggesting—"

"A pet, yes. I heard. Decisions like that don't involve you."

The chill in his tone stole her breath, and her silence left him room to continue.

"I just thought he would like to play with—"

"Unlike you, I don't have time to play with chickens in the middle of the day. Pets are not toys. They require care and time and resources, all of which must be provided by his parents. And you are not his parent. I am his father and he has a mother. She died. If you want to mother someone, have a child of your own instead of inserting yourself in his life when you aren't even sure if you want to stick around. You've—"

"Stop it." Tears pricked her eyes. "And don't you ever speak to me like that again. I see you're in a mood, I know you've been busy, but—"

"At any point, on any day, you are free to leave. When that happens, I will have to pick up the pieces. And don't say that you won't when you—" Draco swallowed his next words. "You're not obligated to—"

"When have I ever given you the impression that I would leave him?"

Draco looked at her.

"That's not what this is about." She knew it to be true without him saying a word. "This isn't about him or my relationship with him. This is about you and me."

He looked as though he was about to say something, but Hermione wasn't done.

"You're having a bad day or week or something, and spoiling for a fight. Well, you should know well enough by now that I won't give it to you. I called you over here to talk, but I won't while you're in a shite mood. I'll make Scorpius a plate to take with him, I'll even make one for you. Take him home, spend the evening with him, and when you're in less of a mood, we can actually talk."

Draco said nothing in argument, just started for the conservatory, a palpable anger driving each of his heavy steps. Hermione followed, and when he wrenched the door open, Scorpius was holding a baby chick, beaming proudly.

"Look! Chicken!"

His bright little smile faded to dust when he realised it was not her at the door.

It was his father.

Both stared at each other in open-mouthed shock, and Hermione remained just behind Draco's shoulder, observing everything as it transpired and feeling the emotions roll off them both.

Like witnessing a car crash, she could neither stop it from happening or stop watching as it did.

Draco, who had gone completely rigid upon hearing Scorpius speak, excused himself, muttering Sorry three times. He was gone before the shock released its grip on Scorpius, leaving a devastated little boy in his wake. Panicking and gasping for air, Scorpius only had the presence of mind to carefully place the chick back in its home before he took off. Before Hermione could stop him or even shout his name, he was out the door.

Scorpius made it to the middle of the pasture before Hermione caught him from behind.

They were both breathing hard for different reasons.

It was cold, and the ground was wet from the morning rain, but Hermione didn't care. She held him as he cried, understanding his tears were a mix of anxiety and a myriad of emotions he couldn't vocalise. Draco's flustered departure that screamed rejection didn't help matters. When the upset boy signed mistake over and over, she stopped him by covering his cold fingers. Taking off her cardigan, Hermione wrapped him up in it, ignoring the chill cutting through her own clothes.

"Not a mistake."

"S-sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." With a hand on the back of his head, she protected him from the wind. "I'm so proud of you for holding the chicken. You did such a good job."

"Daddy—" He sounded so broken. "I can do better."

Hermione closed her eyes, her heart breaking for him. "You were perfect."

It took nearly an hour of reassurance to get Scorpius calm enough to eat, but even then, he barely touched his dinner, only moving the food around his plate. She could tell his tears were because he was thinking about his dad leaving after hearing him speak. It was such a big moment for him, one he'd worked up his confidence to for weeks, and Draco just—left.

The longer Hermione watched him struggle, the more upset she got. By the time she brought him home, waited around while Catherine handled bedtime preparation, and read to him until he fell into a fitful sleep, she realised she couldn't go home yet.

"Can you keep an ear out for him?" Hermione asked softly. "He's not going to sleep well tonight."

"Of course." Catherine didn't dare ask what happened.

She stormed into the place she knew she'd find Draco.

Draco was in front of the fireplace in his office, arms folded, looking worse for wear. Remorseful. His hair was out of place, sticking up at odd angles as if he'd run his fingers through it multiple times in frustration. She almost granted him a bit of clemency, as he seemed as upset as she was, but her anger simply refused to be ignored.

Hermione closed the door and cast a silencing charm for good measure.

"I don't care how angry you are at me, don't ever take it out on Scorpius. Not when he's been trying to gather the nerve to talk to you for almost two months."

"I didn't—" Draco looked a bit sick. "Shite. Where is he?"

"In bed." She folded her arms. "You left him and the irony is that I was the one who had to pick up the pieces."

"That—"

"I know he has a mother. I have never, ever once tried to take her place." Hermione's voice shook. "I can't. I wouldn't know how. I honour her memory, I respect her, and that you had the audacity—" Hermione took another shaky breath, gasping for air. "I love him fiercely and it's bigger than any love I've ever known. The fact that I'm more angry for his sake than what you said to me should speak volumes."

"You—"

"And what's worse is that my anger also speaks of my love for you."

Draco stopped cold.

"I've wanted nothing more than to help heal your relationship with Scorpius. You both deserve this, you've worked so hard, and I…"

She could see his chest rise and fall with each stunned breath.

"You told me to think about it. To make a decision. And I did." She picked up the blueprint off his desk and shoved it against his chest. "I'm all in. Since the moment I decided, I've been making room for you, so you'll actually believe me when I tell you. But right now I'm so angry I can't speak without wanting to scream at you." Hermione took a step back. "So, I'm not having this conversation right now. I refuse to let us start like this."

"What—"

"Go see your son."

"Granger, I'm—"

"Apologise to your son first."

---

November 17, 2011

It only took minutes for the anger to burn away.

Hours before Hermione found herself pacing in front of a worried but silent Padma.

Time had left her hollow from words she hadn't intended to say. Sick both from what she told him and how. It wasn't her finest moment, and guilt nearly sent her through the Floo more than once, but it wasn't his either, and two wrongs never make anything right.

"Talk to him in the morning with a fresh mind and heart." Concern was evident in Padma's soft tone.

And then she forced Hermione into bed with potions and a sip of Calming Draught. Sober but unable to focus, she was in a state of emotional upheaval even after she laid across the bed.

Unsteady. Adrift. Lost.

It was well past midnight.

The room had long since stopped spinning, but her mind had yet to cease. A hollow feeling bled through her veins, leaving a numbness that stretched to her toes.

Hermione turned on her side. Then the other. Unable to get comfortable.

And then…

And then…

Finally, the Calming Draught helped pull her under.

She dreamed.

Colours. Lights. Sounds. Scents. Tastes.

Hermione woke with a feeling so visceral it made her bolt upright before she could even catch her breath. She was still clutching her chest when she figured out the time, where she was, and turned on the light before crawling out of bed.

There was tea waiting for her, just like each morning before, but today was different.

There was a sign that it had just been placed there: steam still curling from the kettle.

Hermione left the tea and made her way to the conservatory.

Dawn was approaching, but the sky was dark enough for a curious sight to stand out.

The light in the greenhouse was on.

Without thinking, Hermione grabbed her wand and went out into the cold morning. It was frigid, and two steps out made her regret not grabbing a coat, but curiosity drew her into the elements. The wind and cold sliced through her thin garments as she made her way through the dark garden. The orbs lit up as she passed them on her way to the greenhouse. Pushing through the door and quickly sealing the chill outside, Hermione entered the newly expanded space. Warmth flooded her bones. She drew her wand and began looking around.

At first, nothing looked amiss until she spotted the black that stood out amongst the green.

Draco.

But, for the first time, her attention was drawn elsewhere.

Up.

To the new addition located in the centre of her greenhouse.

An old, familiar tree.

One she'd seen only once during a trip to the Manor's greenhouse.

Draco was on his knees, with his back to her, as he focused on his task, the tip of his wand aglow. The closer she got, the more bizarre the sight became until she was standing next to him, watching him touch the bit of exposed roots with dirt covered hands. A low pulse of magic was all she felt before the brown tree trunk darkened, and the leaves turned from pale to a richer green.

Only then did she realise what he was doing: waking up the ancient tree from its long slumber.

Her small gasp gave away her presence.

Draco placed his wand in the dirt and started to rise, jaw set with determination, but she stopped him with hands on his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes went back to the olive tree. "I thought—"

"I'm apologising."

His hope seemed to swell when she joined him on her knees.

"I'm sorry, too." Hermione took a deep breath. "Scorpius. Did you—"

"He woke up the instant I walked in. I… talked to him. I talked. He spoke back just once. What he'd been practicing." Draco seemed mystified by the simple act of having a conversation with his son. "I took him to Daphne's because he wanted Cheddar to sleep in the bed with him."

They both looked at the olive tree whose distorted trunk had twisted around itself over time. Tufts of green shot towards the sky. It was a symbol of peace and hope, wisdom and triumph, reconciliation and healing.

An eternal link between man and the earth.

"For an apology, an olive tree is—"

"I didn't think a branch would be enough."

A shocked laugh escaped, but Draco remained serious, his eyes fixed on the tree.

"Disease or drought won't kill it. I could cut it down or burn it to the ground, yet no matter what, it will heal and grow." Draco covered the final bit of exposed root with dirt. "Determined. Stubborn. Resilient. Intricate. It reminds me of someone else I know."

"Is that why you—" Hermione couldn't breathe, much less say anything coherent. "On your arm? Is that for—"

"Yes."

Draco's eyes slid to hers, and she cupped his jaw before he could retreat. Still tense despite his pliancy, he leaned into her hand, into her touch, turning to face her and exhaling his long held defences in the space between them. Hermione closed her eyes and did the same, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

Just them.

Honest and open.

Draco pressed their foreheads together.

His inhale became her exhale in a cyclical exchange that linked them together—stronger than ever before.

Every hard moment that brought them here paled in comparison to the feeling welling inside of her. And when Hermione opened her eyes, though it only lasted seconds, the truth she found would stretch past days, months, years.

"I'll never tell you that I love you in anger again."

"What I said about—" Draco shook his head. "I'm sorry. I won't say anything like that again. It wasn't my best moment."

"We'll do better."

"We will."

"I—I love you." Hermione had never felt more vulnerable, but it was the slight shake of his hands on her back that calmed her. "And I've figured out all the ways you've been showing me that you love me, too."

For all Draco's actions, Hermione didn't find his truth in verbal confirmation. His truth was layered beneath the unbridled emotions that broke free in the form of a choked off smile. He tried to look away and compose himself, but she didn't let him.

Beneath the olive tree, they kissed until there was nothing beyond the vast and silent awareness of everything.

One by one, the stars began to fade as light peeked above the horizon.

Night retreated for morning to take its place.

But in the presence of both the waning moon and the rising sun, peace offered them a gift.

A new beginning.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Emily Brontë

---

A/N: Thank you for all the love and reviews. Hello two feet in. Hello making room. Hello everything. Lots of callbacks to earlier chapters. I believe someone asked me once "what's more important than the cactus?" Me: *smiles* because now I can say my first plan for this fic has played out. More on the politics, Greyback, the boys, and these two stepping into their power couple era.

Next update: January 7th