Four years later...

Severus Snape mostly kept to himself after the war. He hadn't attended the Victory Gala held by the Ministry, or the Reparation Ball organized later by a handful of the wealthy elite, nor had he attended the fundraiser for Gringotts to restore the parts which had been destroyed during what everyone referred to now as the Hungarian Dragon Heist. However, when he'd received an invitation to the wedding of his former students, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, he had RSVP'd that he would, in fact, be in attendance for the ceremony, as well as the reception. Narcissa had received an invitation too and he'd decided that it would be best for her mental faculties to start going about her life as she usually should.

In the immediate aftermath of the war and Voldemort's defeat, she'd been taken to St. Mungo's. The Healers there had said the head trauma had been minimal. A few memory exercises, a lot of potions and she'll be good as new in a few months' time. How ignorant Healers were when it came to consoling others—utterly clinical and insensitive. Both her son and husband were dead and he'd almost hexed the old bat for implying that she'd be as good as new. For once though, he had bitten his tongue and allowed them their work, for he was one of the best specialists in Britain who was still alive, and Severus wanted only the best for her. And despite his reservations, Healer Bell had been right. The hallucinations had become less frequent until they'd stopped completely and her motor function and speech corrected itself as well. She was more or less, as good as new.

That is, until a month ago when she'd started exhibiting signs of paranoia, claiming to have felt like someone was watching her, claiming that things in the house had moved. Did you take knotgrass from the gardens for one of your potions Sev? she'd asked him. And then once he'd overheard her accusing Elma, the house-elf of moving the portrait of Lucius back into the study when he was supposed to be hanging up in the library. He'd waved away such minor misunderstandings until one night over supper she'd turned to Severus and said, I do wish you'd ask me before you take plants from the greenhouse. If you wanted Asphodel I would've uprooted it for you. And Narcissa had sounded so certain he'd merely apologized for not having asked her first and went back to eating. Which is why he'd gone to consult Healer Bell two weeks ago. Severus had explained the odd occurrences and although the old wizard had been a little reluctant to discuss matters without Narcissa being present, he'd suggested that perhaps her memory had been affected.

There can be, what I call, memory glitches, especially when the physical trauma is to the amygdala and the hippocampus. Not to mention any other curses or spells she might have been exposed to— it's difficult to tell in some cases, but it seems to me that perhaps she is simply forgetting having done these things. But we all begin to forget eventually Mr. Snape, even wizards.

The answer satisfied him and Narcissa seemed perfectly alright in every other sense, so he let it go and didn't think more of it. So, on that fateful day when the Daily Prophet came by owl while they were having their breakfast and he saw Draco's face on the front page upon unfurling it, he did not tell her.

"I think I'd like to try painting again. Remember when I used to paint Sev?" she said, taking a sip of her tea. "You and Lucius would tease me mercilessly for my sloppy enchantments."

He set the paper aside and took her hand. "Yes," he said. "I remember."

The gesture made her smile and it reminded him of her at seventeen.

"Perhaps you'll finally allow me to paint you," she teased.

He raised an eyebrow. "Never means never," he clipped letting go of her hand to pick up his fork. "I've told you once, I've told you twice—"

"Oh alright, fine. But what do you think really? Should I start painting again?"

He gave her a small smile. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy, Cissa. If your enchantments improve I'll consider sitting for you."

"How generous of you," she said, "but I am happy… I really am…"

He looked up at Narcissa and saw a twinkle in her eye and a smile playing on her face as she looked out at the expanse of land surrounding Malfoy Manor. An expression he hadn't seen her wear in years. Perhaps it was arrogance, but he was content to have had a hand in putting it there. This news though, it would devastate her.

He had only managed to read the headline but it was enough to know that he needed to assess the situation before having Narcissa find out about it. This idea of hers had come at an opportune time. It would keep her distracted and at home for at least a little while.

"I'll run out and get you the supplies myself," he offered.

She blinked. "It's sweet of you to offer but I can go, or Elma—"

"No really, allow me. I'd be honored to play a part in your artistic endeavors. Besides I have a few errands to run myself."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed suspiciously for a moment but eventually, she said, "Well, if you insist. Oh, and could you bring me back those chocolates I like?"

He assured her that he'd return shortly with the supplies, chocolates and even a few books to get her reacquainted. "It's been years after all, you wouldn't want to begin blind."

"I remember my primary and secondary colors quite well," she laughed.

Folding his napkin, he insisted that it was better to have as many resources at her disposal and with a chaste kiss to her temple, he took the newspaper and left her sitting at the breakfast table with a slip of a smile. But he didn't get far because as soon as he stepped into the foyer Harry Potter was stepping out of the fireplace looking quite the madman.

His eyes grew wide in surprise as he turned and saw him. "Professor Snape—good you're here. I have to speak to you, urgently."

He grabbed the boy by the arm. "Quiet!" he hissed and Mister Potter fell silent as if he were in Severus' classroom once again. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes glancing down the hall. "I didn't want to intrude but…" His gaze fell down to the newspaper in Severus' hand. "You've read it, then?"

"In fact, I have not. I didn't want to upset Narcissa, not until I had answers. I was just on my way to the Ministry."

"Brilliant, let's go."

Without another word, the two wizards stepped into the fireplace and were engulfed in green flames as he spoke their destination.

Severus had not been inside the Ministry building for quite some time and when he stepped out of the floo he'd forgotten the grandeur of the atrium, the echo of footsteps across the marble as people came and went from the fireplaces lined against the long walls and the large victory statue which hung in the center atop the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

"Follow me," said Potter, and they walked till they reached the golden gates. Potter flashed a security clearance— what looked to be a badge of some kind—at the watch wizard and without a single question they were both allowed through.

This morning is moving far too fast, he thought to himself. It had only been yesterday when everything was quiet and settled…

They'd just stepped into the lifts when Severus turned to the boy and snapped under his breath, "How could you keep this from me?"

Potter opened his mouth to retort when a chubby hand appeared between the two closing doors of the lift.

"Just in the nick of time," chuckled the man stepping inside.

Severus pressed his thumb to the button to keep the doors open. "I believe you're already on the right level," he said, glaring at the young rotund face.

The cheery-eyed man's smile faded. He blinked and looked to Potter as if to ask for clarification.

Potter said nothing.

Severus raised a dark eyebrow. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Stuttering an apology, the man all but stumbled out and Severus allowed the lift doors to finally close. As soon as they had, Potter frowned.

"This isn't Hogwarts, Sir—and I only found out yesterday myself. Kingsley said he'd been holding onto it till he was certain the case concerned us."

"Case—what case?"

"Corban Yaxley was found murdered in New York. He had M.L carved onto his arm."

"So you automatically assume it's Draco. How utterly naïve and insipid of you, Potter."

The boy's face grew red. "I am not a student anymore. I am an Auror with the D.M.L.E and you will treat me with such respect."

Severus' lips thinned and there was a moment of tension where he wondered whether the boy would attempt to hex him again using one of his own spells.

"I only mean to say that it could be anyone. He wasn't a particularly likable wizard."

Potter shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You sound like Hermione. I just came from her flat. She refuses to believe—"

"You what?" he hissed.

The lift doors opened onto the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Neither of them spoke again till Potter had navigated them to his office.

Severus shut the door behind him and in unison, they raised their wands to cast a silencing spell.

"Be my guest," scoffed Potter, lowering his hand. "You should've used it during sixth year when I overheard you and Malfoy speaking."

His eyes narrowed on the arrogant boy and Severus was starting to understand that Harry Potter thought himself a man now. So much like his dear old father. With a tight smile, he cast the spell and took a seat opposite Potter at his desk. Severus laid out the paper and began to read the article which had made the front page. He wanted to know what it said before continuing their discussion—although neither the Prophet nor Potter were what Severus considered reliable sources.

When he had finished, he looked up and asked, "What, pray tell, did you say to poor Miss Granger?"

"Ron and I went to her flat, right before I came to see you. I wanted to tell her before she read it in the papers. We thought it would be easier for her to hear it from us first."

"How kind of you to have extended that same gesture to Draco's mother," he said with another tight smile.

Potter ran a hand through his hair. "You have no idea how blind-sided we were yesterday—I'm sorry. If it means anything, we tried getting Kingsley to keep the press out of it but…" He cleared his throat. "Are you… are you and Mrs. Malfoy—?"

"No.," he said without further explanation. He held no delusions. He knew that their arrangement was odd; he lived with her in Lucius' home and took care of her as if she were his wife but they were not intimate. There was too much love between them to avoid each other entirely and far too much history to be together romantically. Narcissa had been unwell after the war and once she'd recovered Severus had suggested to her that he was no longer needed at the Manor. But she had looked at him with utter betrayal and he had had to clarify that he would stay as long as she'd have him. With pursed lips, she'd gone into her bedroom and not come out for two days. During those two days he'd warred with himself which path would be best; to leave his dead friend's ancestral home and his wife, who was now a widow, or to stay with the woman who had loved him most of her life.

He'd made his choice and now he had to stand by it. She must be protected at all costs.

Glancing up at Potter he asked, "Is there anything else that suggests this may be Draco?"

"Well, there's motive, the mark, not to mention we never found his body."

"Yes," said Severus. "But what evidence? This is all circumstantial. You cannot jump to such rash conclusions and upset people's lives, Potter. Imagine the damage you've caused by telling Miss Granger that Draco is alive when you aren't certain he is. Imagine the damage you will do to Narcissa—!"

"My intention is to solve a murder, not to—!"

Just then there was a knock on the door. Potter jumped from his seat and went to open it without revealing Severus inside. He muttered something inaudible to a girl who replied with a high shrill voice.

"My assistant Bethany," he supplied after he'd closed the door again. "Look, I know we've never been on good terms but I thought I should give you fair warning. Kingsley's getting a lot of pressure from this and he's ordered us to interview everyone—Mrs. Malfoy included."

Severus brought his fingers to steeple in deep thought. This was probably the worst thing to happen at a time like this. It could set Narcissa off. Severus would need to consult Healer Bell. The stress alone… and it did not make sense.

"Why now?" he challenged.

Potter leaned toward him across the desk. "Why what?"

"Why would Draco kill Corban Yaxley now? Why wait years to commit this murder? Years he could have spent with Miss Granger—and to leave her alone, for so long—and what of Fenrir Greyback's testimony? He claimed to have killed Draco himself. He confessed so at his trial under Veritaserum—"

"But Malfoy once told me he planned to fake his death in sixth year, I know he couldn't do it then, but maybe later—"

"While Voldemort was alive, while Narcissa was held prisoner at the Manor—yes. But why fake his death for three years after Voldemort's demise, and commit this murder now, after all this time?"

Potter stood as if the questions Severus were posing were far too strenuous to contemplate seated. He circled around his chair and turned to open a set of drawers, searching frantically for something. Cursing he marched around the desk and flung the door open.

"Beth! I need Fenrir Greyback's file! Now!"

Then he shut the door once again.

"I thought the answer to that was quite obvious," he said sitting down once more. "Malfoy's wanted for the murder of six other Death Eaters. It's easier to avoid the Ministry when no one is looking for you."

"But the timing? Why now? Why New York?"

"Corban Yaxley is slippery. Maybe it just took him a long time to flesh him out."

Severus wasn't convinced.

"And Greybacks testimony?" he challenged again. "Under Veritaserum."

Potter drummed his fingers on his desk. "Maybe it wasn't an effective batch of brew, or maybe it wasn't Veritaserum at all, he could've been slipped something else—"

"Why would he ever lie about killing Draco? I have never known that beast to lie before and it serves him no purpose."

Potter let out a sigh of exasperation and stood once again. Yanking the door open, he yelled to his assistant to hurry up and slammed the door shut. Severus could feel the panic roiling off the boy in waves and felt it was contagious. He could not let Narcissa hear about this, especially if it didn't hold a modicum of truth. Potter nor the Ministry seemed to know what was going on.

Taking a deep breath Severus sought to pluck the one question that could solve all of this. He tried putting himself in Draco's shoes, attempting to weave the timeline into something understandable. After a moment of tense silence in the office, his eyes snapped up, catching Potter's attention.

"It boils down to a single question, Potter."

His eyebrows furrowed.

"Which question would that be Professor?"

"Do you really believe that if Draco were alive he would have allowed his mother to bury not only her dead husband but her child? He would have told her, at least by now he would have told her or told Miss Granger. He would not have let them suffer as they have."

Potter turned pale. Because even he understood at that point that they'd made a terrible mistake; because Draco Malfoy would not have let the people he cared about grieve him all these years.

Severus stood from his chair and began buttoning his cloak. "I suggest you start widening your pool of suspects to those who are living, Potter. And I don't want the D.M.L.E calling upon Narcissa unless there is actual evidence to suggest Draco Malfoy is alive and responsible for these murders. Is that clear?"

Without waiting for a response, he left Potter's office, giving a girl who he assumed was Bethany a scare as he swept past her. Stepping into the lifts to take him back to the atrium, he exhaled a breath of relief. His Godson was not responsible for this. It would've devastated Narcissa to have Draco back only for him to be taken away again and put into Azkaban. His return was a double-edged sword and yet Severus could not help but feel a burning behind his eyelids, the extinguished flame of a short-lived hope that perhaps he was alive.

Leaving the Ministry, he went to buy Narcissa her paint supplies as he ran his errands—mostly trips to special herbal vendors for rare ingredients which were hard to find in other potion stores. He had almost forgotten to buy the chocolates she had asked for but had luckily remembered at the very last minute.

It was past lunchtime when he arrived back at the Manor. She was reading a book he didn't recognize. A flicker of panic lit within him, wondering if she'd left the Manor to shop for books.

"What are you reading?" he asked casually as he entered the living room.

She startled and then composed her face into a serene smile. "Oh, it's just a book I bought some time ago," she said, closing it.

"And you're done?"

"Almost," she replied setting it aside. "Some endings take time."

He furrowed his brow, not quite grasping what she meant. "Where shall I set up the paints?"

"In the garden," she said, standing. "Oh, and Theodore Nott owled."

Once again his heart began racing, but he kept his tone indifferent when he spoke. "Oh?"

"The letter didn't say very much," she said, handing it over to him. "Only to say he'll be coming by this evening after work for a quick visit."

He raised his eyes to meet hers but she was too busy loitering around the living room, fluffing cushions which didn't need to be fluffed, straightening antiques which were already aligned.

"Well, I can't imagine what he wants, I suppose he has a potions question. He still dabbles and—"

Narcissa tutted. "He isn't coming to visit us, Sev. He's coming to see Draco."

Despite the years practicing his Occlumency around Voldemort he could not help but blink, allowing his cool façade to fade for a moment.

He repeated her words slowly. "He's coming… to see Draco?"

"His grave," she said softly. "Have you forgotten?"

It had slipped his mind that Theodore sometimes came to Malfoy Manor to visit Draco's grave. He hadn't come in such a long while. Neither had Miss Granger, thankfully.

"I haven't seen that sweet boy for some time," she continued. "It'll be nice to see him. Draco and he were like brothers when they were younger. They used to do everything together and now…. well now he has no one. It's quite sad really."

Severus hummed in agreement, although he had no inkling of what to say. He went to set up her painting supplies near the west side of the gardens where she'd get the best afternoon light and to indulge her a little, he sat near her for the rest of the afternoon making encouraging comments now and again. Meanwhile, he was worried about what Theodore Nott would say in Narcissa's presence. It was no coincidence that he had owled today, of all days.

Before he knew it, Narcissa had asked Elma to bring the evening tea and Severus waited, each second a moment away from possible chaos.

Fortuitously, she had gotten paint on her hands and on the sleeve of her robes.

"I'll be back toot-sweet!" she said, wiping them.

Severus flung the book down and went to the foyer to wait for Theodore to make an appearance, to warn him of what not to mention in front of Narcissa. He knew he couldn't continue with this deception but he just needed a little time. All of a sudden, the green flames in the fireplace roared and he almost flinched when it wasn't his former Slytherin student, but Miss Granger.

"Professor Snape," she said, a little breathless as though she was surprised to have found him there waiting at the Floo. "Are you—are you going somewhere?"

He ignored her question, looking her up and down with a frown. She was wearing a strange blue outfit and odd shoes, a handbag of sorts hanging from her shoulder. Her gaze followed his.

"Oh, these are my scrubs," she said, clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. "I'm a nurse in a Muggle hospital. Well, it's not really a hospital, it's more like a clinic, see my parents—well I don't know if you heard but…"

The rest of the sentence died on her lips as she realized she was babbling.

"First Potter, now you. My, my, I'm quite popular today. Draco should return from the dead more often."

Clearing her throat nervously she muttered, "Harry was here? What did he say?"

"Nothing which he hasn't already told you."

The Gryffindor drew in a breath. "And what did you say?"

"I told him to widen his pool of suspects to those who are among the living. Now, if you don't mind, Narcissa does not know and I'd like to keep it that way."

Miss Granger scoffed. "You think you can keep her from finding out? If it's in the Prophet today, it'll be in the Prophet tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that, until someone is in Azkaban. The whole of wizarding Britain will soon be talking about Draco if they aren't already. It's despicable—"

"Why have you come here, Miss Granger?"

She all but flinched. "I just… I just wanted to spend some time with him today."

He raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

Shrugging she said, "I just finished my shift and—it would be nice to say hello to Mrs. Malfoy too."

Severus let out a deep sigh. "Your presence upsets her, Miss Granger. Every time you enter this house you leave it with a grey cloud hanging over."

Her eyes fell to look at her shoes. He felt a tinge of guilt but he'd spoken the truth. "Spend as much time with Draco as you'd like, please. I didn't mean to wound you—"

"No, I understand," she said stoically and began to walk past him into the house toward the back gardens.

She turned once and said, "So you don't believe it either…"

He bowed his head slightly and it was answer enough.

Hermione opened the large curled-iron gates to Malfoy cemetery. Generations of Draco's family were buried here and she couldn't help but look at the names engraved as she went. Damp grass welched beneath her feet as she wound past headstones and grand mausoleums till she reached the grave she was looking for. A single tombstone under an ancient oak tree.

Draco Malfoy

05 June 1980 – May 1998

Beloved Son & Friend

She traced the engraving starting with his name. It would've been his twentieth birthday this summer. May 1998…. Mrs. Malfoy hadn't engraved a date. Hermione thought it was because his mother had still secretly been searching for him, the same way she had spent those first few months looking. But he'd long but vanished and now there was no date, just a month.

Hermione sat underneath the tree, cross-legged and took her book out; a new one she'd found on memory charms. There was little sunlight left of the day and she thought to sit here with him and read awhile. She knew her behavior was a little odd. She knew he wasn't here, not his body nor his soul but it was a peaceful place. Mrs. Malfoy had taken the cemetery and pruned it as lovingly as she did her gardens. Every plot was decorated with the utmost care and every time she visited she found gardenia's lining his grave just as it had on the day of his funeral.

It was, Hermione thought, the most beautiful cemetery she'd ever seen.

She had managed to read two chapters of Love in the Time of Cholera before hearing the gravel shift. She raised her eyes against the setting sun and saw a figure winding down the same path. She stood, wiping away the fresh soil and grass from her. He stopped in his tracks and she thought he might turn around and walk back but he continued on.

"Hi."

He didn't greet her back.

Theo must've come straight from work as she had done because he was wearing a clean white shirt and dark trousers beneath his robes. His trousers matched the exact color of his eyes and she wondered if he had spelled them that way.

"I didn't know you were here," he said.

She pursed her lips. Severus must not have told him. He probably assumed it wouldn't be a problem. They used to work closely together after all. How was he to know that it would be a terrible mistake?

Theo's eyes fell upon Draco's grave.

She shifted awkwardly beside him wondering if she should leave and allow him time with Draco without her. But then he was speaking. Something half-whispered under his breath.

Hermione turned to look at him.

"Did you know?" he asked a little louder.

"For God's sake," she sighed moving away from his headstone. "This is sacred ground." Not something she wanted to discuss especially in a place such as this.

Theo's chest began lifting, heaving, his eyes growing wild and restless. "He's not even buried here, Hermione. He's not even dead!"

Her hands curled, balling into fists at the way her name rolled off his lips. "It's not true," she muttered to herself. "What they're saying isn't true."

Theo grabbed her by her arms so suddenly it woke her from the dazed stupor she'd been walking around in all day. "You must've known all along," he whispered frantically. "You knew and you didn't tell me—"

"There's nothing to know, Theo. Let go of me," she winced.

"If he finds out—"

"Finds out what?" she hissed, yanking her arm free. "Nothing happened, remember?"

Theo was rubbing his face and Hermione turned her attention back to Draco's gravestone.

"If I had known, if I had any idea, I wouldn't have—I would've never..."

Hermione lifted her head, her eyelashes fluttering as she whispered, "Yes, yes, you would've, so don't pretend."

"Why not?" he rasped trembling. "Why can't I pretend, Hermione? You do it enough for the both of us."

Hermione walked over to a nearby Mausoleum, away from Draco. "Take it to our grave," she whispered. "That's what we said…"

Theo's eyes were dancing over her face. He took the smallest step towards her, lowering his voice. "But if it is him—"

"It's not, it's someone else—a copycat."

His throat bobbed. "And if it isn't?" he asked.

Her pulse dropped. "It is."

"But—"

"Draco is dead!" she snapped. "He is dead."

A dark cloud passed over Theo's face as he stared at her as though he could see right through.

Hermione practically jumped as he raised his fist, hitting the marble wall of the mausoleum behind her head; over, and over, and over again.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" she yelled, her heart beating wildly and her hand at her throat. His jaw was clenched and he was so lost that Hermione thought he hadn't even heard, wasn't evening listening. Grabbing onto his arm, she cried "Stop! Theo stop it!"

His anger gave way to breath-robbing sobs, and he crumpled into her, holding her tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair but didn't have the heart to tell him everything would be okay. Even after he had stopped crying, she merely held him.

He straightened and didn't bother wiping his face, so she did it for him. Hermione looked down to his right hand, his knuckles bloody and grazed. "I just really wanted him to be alive," he said as if he needed to explain. She nodded understanding the grief of losing him again. It was what she was avoiding. Hermione didn't want anyone to give her hope for something she'd come to accept.

"You miss him," she whispered.

"I'm tired of feeling alone."

Biting her lip, she took his battered hand in hers and began to heal it with her wand. She'd become quite adept at healing spells, during the war and especially after when she'd begun to use magic and muggle medicine in tandem. She brought his hand to her mouth and placed a soft kiss on it the way her mother had when she was a little girl.

"All better now," she said trying to smile.

Their eyes met and her cheeks burned. This was the first time he'd allowed her to touch him since…

He gulped when she stepped into him. They were north and south poles of a magnet and she couldn't help but be drawn in. It was Hermione who placed her hand on his heart and it was Hermione who raised her chin up to his face and planted her lips firmly on his. Her hand traveled up to touch the line of his jaw, her lips parting and capturing his. She wanted to thread her fingers through his hair and breathe him in, this warm, hard body that she remembered well.

And he kissed her back, whimpering.

She wanted to lie in the sound of it.

Before she could kiss him again, he tore himself away as if she'd burned him. He stared at her with accusation in his eyes, and when she tried stepping into him again, he recoiled.

"Theodore, wait," she tried saying.

But he was already halfway down the gravel path and it had barely been a whisper.

"You're not alone."

A/N: Big news I finally found an amazing Beta! Thank you Tiffywa for supporting my writing and making it even better x