"You should leave."

Hermione wouldn't let the woman into her sanctuary. Scorpius was too young to recognise her but the young brunette couldn't help but notice the glaring similarities between her son and his grandmother. It also meant that she couldn't help but think of the person she had left behind miles away and was trying so hard to put behind her. After seeing Ginny and Harry again, she had made it clear that she didn't want to know anything about Draco Malfoy and that any news from Britain was not welcomed. Since her hasty departure, she had heard nothing about the father of her child and she would prefer to keep it that way.

That was why Narcissa Black-Malfoy was not welcome in Hermione Granger's private Parisian flat. The latter had a thousand questions to ask: how did she know about Scorpius? And more importantly, how had she managed to find her when she had sworn everyone to secrecy about her whereabouts?

In the light of the Malfoy matriarch's silence, the young mother repeated her sentence with even more vehemence and composure. "You should leave. You have no business here." She reached for the door handle and began to close it before being surprised by the next words. "You can't stop me from seeing my grandson...he's all I have left."

Taking a long breath and preparing herself for a necessary confrontation, Hermione opened the door a little after glancing at her sleeping son in the cradle Harry had made himself. "I can and I will. I have no doubt that Astoria and D...Draco will soon have pure-blooded children that you can love with all your might. Leave me alone, please."

To say that the young war heroine was not pleading with anyone was an understatement and everyone was well aware of it. Even during her long moments of torture at the hands of the dreaded Bellatrix, she had maintained her pride and integrity by not begging. "The engagement Astoria and Draco entered into was annulled the day I found out about Scorpius. The day he was born, in fact."

No.

That sentence had made her happy - more than it should have. The damage had already been done: despite their promises of sincerity and love, Draco had concealed an important detail from her again and she couldn't forgive him so easily again. She was giving away her trust far too effortlessly, and she was sick of it. He had promised. He had promised. He had promised.

Narcissa had taken advantage of the young Gryffindor's incessant inner turmoil to sneak into the flat before glancing around inquisitively. She seemed to be sizing up the space, the layout, the furniture, the decoration, the colour scheme, everything. Everything. Everything. So that's why the approving look was more of a surprise than anything else. "My mother was a Rosier and the Malfoy family is descended from a great French family, as I'm sure you know. It's reassuring that Scorpius is connected to a part of his history, despite the fact that the flat isn't entirely fit for someone of his lineage. That will be remedied quickly, don't worry."

But who does she think she is?

"I don't know what you came here to do, but I'm warning you. I don't want you in my child's life or in mine. I don't care what you think he deserves or doesn't deserve: but he deserves a loving family willing to give him a choice. He deserves me, Hermione Jean Granger." Narcissa looked at her for a long moment - seemingly sizing her up and analyzing her. In the past, that kind of look would have intimidated her and made her feel uncomfortable to the core, but now she didn't care. She had saved the lives of the entire British magical world and she had managed to give birth and raise her six-month-old child without anyone's help.

Without waiting for her response, the young brunette walked over to the cot and gently stroked Scorpius' cheek. This had become her routine when she felt stressed: taking refuge near the only person who loved her unconditionally. His round cheeks and piercing grey eyes were welcome - reminding her of a more serene and happy time in her life. Although she was young and almost inexperienced, she had read enough books on child development and education to make a pediatrician swoon and tried to use as little magic as possible in front of him.

Her ray of joy.

Would she have recovered more from the violence of the war without him?

She strongly doubted it.

He had been a sign for her: he had not been in her plans and yet he was the only event in her life that had been truly welcome. Hermione knew full well that in a while she would have to work, but she refused to think about it at all. The separation would be far too hard and she tried to make excuses to spend as much time as possible with Scorpius.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts and focused on the child in front of her that she had forgotten Narcissa was there. The latter had not moved a muscle and continued to scrutinize her without embarrassment. The situation was far too calm given the events and the young mother knew that she would have to continue to put up with the intrusion of her guest in order to get rid of her quickly. "You are not going to take my child away from me or take him to your bloody mansion. I have fought my heart out and paid my debt to society - don't make me involve friends in high places to ensure you never come near me again."

It gave her no pleasure to argue with Scorpius's grandmother in this way, but she had decided to leave Britain so that she could be left alone to raise her child away from the prejudices and ideals that had destroyed her teenage and early adult life. If she could be assured that her future would be brighter with her French family, she would not hesitate. Narcissa cut her off as she spoke to her for the first time looking her straight in the eye. "I know that my family would be in prison right now if you hadn't managed to convince Mister Potter to speak on our behalf. I also know from certain contacts that you forwarded a letter to the Ministry to explain that we were not responsible for the torture that took place at the manor." Hermione couldn't help but take a breath as she thought of Bellatrix and her wand. "For many years I was convinced that my son was in love with you and now I see that I was entirely right. I'm not going to pretend that my ideology has changed but my family is destroyed nonetheless. Lucius has one more year to spend in Azkaban and my son has lost his will to...live. Now, I'm not here to change your mind, but I am here to ask you for one last act of mercy. Allow me to see my only grandson."

Hermione had promised herself that she wouldn't be manipulated by pretty words coming from Draco if he ever learned the truth - but she had never thought that she would have to drag Narcissa away from her and Scorpius.

In fact, the woman in front of her was one of the reasons for her hasty departure. Though she had no connection to the war per se, but she was indeed one of the Black sisters and if there was one thing she had learned about that family, it was that they were not to be underestimated.

It would have been far too easy for her to find a way to get rid of her and her child.

The young brunette sighed and let herself fall ungracefully onto the settee.

His period of probation and confinement in the manor was quick in his eyes. Since the day of his trial, when he finally understood that Hermione Granger would never be a part of his life again, he had decided not to say another word. Why bother communicating when the only important person in his life would no longer be a part of it?

Draco Malfoy had always had what he wanted from a young age - he didn't even have to ask, he just took it. Because of his pureblood background and wealth, he had always considered himself superior and privileged, even to his own caste. He had sincerely thought that he would shine at Hogwarts; but he had of course not taken into account Harry Potter and the rest of his henchmen.

If someone had told him that he would be heartbroken because the class nerd of his generation, Hermione Granger, didn't want him around eight years ago, he would have made sure to lock the person up and laugh at them without giving them a second thought. His father was still locked up - although two years wasn't enough time given the extent of his crimes and his mother had left the country to move to the Manor in France to get her mind off things. He had tried to reach her and confide in her: he needed to talk about it or risk exploding.

But he didn't.

As always, he chose to be weak. He couldn't tell his mother that he had rejected centuries of history and heritage for a teenage romance. He knew that she would at least make the effort to listen to him - she had, after all, called off the wedding to Astoria Greengrass without him nagging her any further.

If he didn't tell her, it was mainly because he was afraid of how she would behave with the war heroine if she ever crossed paths with her. Would she take revenge for her son's broken heart or would she insult him for daring to tempt the last heir of two pureblood families?

He didn't know.

The only thing he knew for sure was that he hadn't spoken to anyone in almost a year and was struggling to survive for some unknown reason. He had had no contact with the outside world: apart from the house elves and the Malfoy matriarch, he had not wanted to meet anyone. He also stayed far away from the main wing of the house, not being able to stand the amount of emotions and macabre memories that overhang that part of his domicile. If it were up to him, he would have left the bloody place and chosen any other family home, but he was Lord Malfoy now. One of the terms of his father's malleable imprisonment was that he had to give up his honorary title, that he had to give up all his possessions to his son and hand over any type of dark artefacts.

Draco Malfoy was overwhelmed and for once in his life, he wished he could have been anything but himself.