Draco stood at the sink basin and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like crap. He had purple bags under his eyes, showing signs of no sleep. And he didn't want that commented on by his mother. So he grabbed a Pepper-Up Potion from the Potions Cabinet in his bathroom. Still, in the correct order, all of Hermione's daily regime sat in a row. He sometimes wished he could take them, pour them out, and pretend they never existed, but he knew he couldn't. His mind physically wouldn't allow him to. He stepped into the shared closet of him and his beloved wife — all of her clothes were neatly hung or folded on the bench where she had left them. Her shoes were lined up in order from runners to dressy. On a separate hook from all her belongings was her Muggle coat, which she loved to wear. It was poofy, and the hood of it was covered in faux fur. It was horrendous in Draco's eyes, but Hermione could pull anything off. He grabbed the sleeve of it, pulled it toward his nose, and inhaled her scent that he magicked to stay upon it. He felt a sob swell up in his chest. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. He dropped the sleeve and stepped back. He needed to get to his daughter and mother. Quickly changing into a new set of clothes, he ran down the stairs to meet them.
"Daddy!" Rosalyn yelped as she spooned a grand bite of oatmeal into her mouth.
"Morning," he said as he rounded the table and kissed her head. "Mother," he greeted Narcissa by giving her a chaste kiss on her cheek. He sat beside her and poured them a hot cup of tea. "What do I owe this pleasure?"
Narcissa smiled softly, "I just wanted to check in. I haven't heard from you in a while." She reached over and grabbed one of Rosalyn's hands, "plus, I've missed my Rosie."
"I've missed you too, Nan," Rosalyn said, smiling broadly.
Draco chuckled at his daughter. The innocence of her being was so pure. She had a splatter of oatmeal down her shirt and a milk mustache. "I've been busy. Work and, of course, taking care of Rosie."
"I know." Narcissa answered, "I wish you'd let her come stay with Granddad and me. Your father has turned the whole west wing basically into a circus."
Rosalyn's eyes lit up. That sounded amazing to her little ears. "Oh, daddy! Can I go, please!"
Draco had a hard time allowing his little girl out of sight. He knew he needed to let her have space. But it was hard enough for him to go to work every day. Though he needn't work, he was forced back into it to help alleviate his mind from the death of his wife. It didn't help one hundred percent, but it did help take away the company of misery. He was always so afraid that it could be the last time seeing Rosalyn. He knew she would be in good hands with Narcissa. Though it wasn't apparent outwardly to society, behind closed doors, his mother was always delicate and kind — His father, Lucius, came a long way from his time as a Death Eater and sought forgiveness. Once Rosalyn Jo was born, he became a whole new man. A better present, man.
"Well, I thought you wanted to go see Mummy today," Draco said, not looking over at the older witch sitting with them, knowing good and well, she was staring at him in shock.
"Of course I do! But can't I stay with Nan and Grandad after seeing her?" Rosie was absolute. Just like her mother had always been.
Draco didn't want to refuse Rosalyn of anything. He felt a chokehold on his heart. He hazarded a glance at Narcissa, who was indeed staring at him. "Yes, Mother?" He asked.
"I'm just surprised, is all. I would love to visit Hermione with you." Narcissa said quietly.
"Of course, you can come, Nan! I'm sure Mummy would like to see you, too! Daddy said she'd know we are there." Rosalyn took the napkin from her lap and wiped her mouth and shirt off.
Narcissa glanced at her son. He was grinning at his daughter's kindness. The woman felt a twinge of joy — She must've done something right along the way. Draco was doing so well as a single dad on the outside looking in. And no one could compare to Hermione as his wife or her granddaughter's mother. But she didn't want to see him alone forever. She knew it was much too soon to try and marry him off to someone new, but she hoped that maybe one day he'd take her up on an offer of helping him find someone to live life with and help raise Rosalyn. She didn't dare mention it now and probably wouldn't for a long time, but it was her job as a parent to worry about these things.
They finished their breakfast, and Narcissa went upstairs with Rosalyn to help her find something warm and respectful to wear to the gravesite.
Draco grabbed his coat and stopped by his study. He stared at the journal sitting on his desk. He contemplated on taking the damned book with him for a moment too long before his mother entered. "Are you ready to go?" She asked.
Draco jumped at her voice. "I'll be down in a minute."
Narcissa looked at him peculiarly before she nodded and left him to his own.
Draco took the quill and journal, placing them into his coat pocket.
The gravesite wasn't far from their home. It was a special burial site for the ones who were close to Hermione and the others of the Golden Trio. His cousin Nymphadora was buried here. Draco hadn't argued with his wife when she said this was where she wanted to be laid to rest. There wouldn't have been an argument even if he wanted to— though he'd preferred to place her in his family mausoleum instead. She had the right to reserve her place.
The snow crunched beneath each of their feet as they made their way up the walk. Someone had visited their loved ones recently. Fresh flowers had been left all around at different graves. From afar, Draco noticed Hermione's had a beautiful rose wreath sitting against hers. He wondered who'd left it.
"Look! There's Mummy!" Rosalyn cried and began running toward her mother's headstone. Draco shot out a warming charm over his daughter as she ventured off. He watched as the young girl started talking animatedly to the stone.
"She's getting big, smarter... growing up," Narcissa commented. Her breath wavering before her as she spoke. Draco didn't respond with words but gave her a subtle nod in acknowledgment. "When's the last time you came here, Draco?" The woman asked. She watched as her son's already red cheeks got redder. She knew she had struck a nerve, but curiosity killed the cat, so they say.
Taking a moment to answer, he finally did. Though his words were honest, they were sharp. "It's been a while… I, I don't like to come."
The woman nodded in understanding. "It's good for Rosalyn to… Any time she wants to, and you're not feeling up for it, you can always —"
"I know— I just… I don't want…." Draco dropped his head.
Narcissa frowned as she observed Draco's jaw clenching. She placed a gloved hand on his back, offering to pull him into a hug. He barely gave in at first, but his forehead fell short onto her shoulder once he did. "I miss her," he cried for a moment. The cold air dried his tears into nonexistence. Thankfully the cold also disguised his red nose of sadness.
"Daddy!" Rosalyn called, bringing Draco back to the present. "Come here! We need to leave her some flowers, too!"
He stood tall and went forth to where his daughter was. He took off his scarf, laid it on the ground, and transfigured it larger for them to sit on. He cast another warming charm over them as he sat beside Rosalyn. "What kind of flowers would you like to leave for her?"
"Well, Christmas is next week, and I think she would like those pointy red flowers we see as decoration everywhere."
Draco pursed his lips in thought. What were those darned plants called?
Narcissa kneeled next to her little family, "are you thinking of a Poinsettia?"
Rosalyn shrugged, "I don't know. Can you put one out so we can see?"
Narcissa smiled. She whirled her wand and pointed to the ground next to her daughter-in-law's tombstone. A pretty red flower bloomed, with pointy green leaves surrounding the soft petals. "Is this it, Rosie?"
Rosalyn's eyes brightened as she smiled ear to ear. "Yes, Nan! Those are it! How pretty. She will love them. Don't you, Mummy? Aren't they just so beautiful!"
Draco absently listened to Narcissa tell Rosalyn a story about Hermione. He moved a certain way to get comfortable when he felt the edge of the journal in his pocket press against his ribcage. He removed it and stared down at it, not noticing the random glances his mother was giving him. He opened the first page, staring down at the fifty-plus Hermione written. He turned to the next, then pulled out his quill. Though it was right beside him, the sound of his daughter's laughter seemed so distant. He pressed the tip of his writing utensil down to the paper, making a dot. He breathed out his nose heavily, feeling slighted. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He closed the journal again, never catching Narcissa exhaling the deep breath she'd been holding.