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Evander was still crying by the time they arrived back at their house. Draco had needed to forcibly pull him away from Rose and Remus as they were leaving while he cried and clung to them both. Hermione was shushing him with tears in her eyes while Theo cried in response. Draco was holding his toddler tightly trying to keep him still long enough for them to get out of the Floo. He kicked and wailed and pounded on his father's chest.
"Evander Hyperion Malfoy, you stop that right this instant." Hermione snapped. Evander froze and fat tears rolled down his red cheeks. Draco finally set him down and looked to Hermione.
"Why do daddy and Uncle Won have to fight always? He ruins everything. I wanted to see Rosie. Daddy ruined it." He sobbed.
"Evander," Hermione sighed. Draco's shoulders fell only to snap right back into place with a hiss as his ribs throbbed at the change in posture. "How did you even know about that?"
"Dom tolded me," he sniffed.
"Told," Hermione corrected.
"Dom told me that Daddy was being mean, and Uncle Ron was mean back because nobody likes Daddy." He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robes. Draco studied the floor. Hermione shifted Theo to her other hip.
"Well Dom should not have said that. That is not true."
"Why can't Dad stay home when we go see Rosie? I don't want Uncle Ron to say Rosie can't be friends with me. Dom said he would say that. Please let me stay friends with Rosie, I'll be good." He sniffled again and looked up at Draco and Hermione with wide eyes.
Hermione heard the air catch in Draco's lungs and almost flinched.
He hadn't even retaliated. And that still didn't matter.
"Let's get you into the bath, shall we?" he looked at Theo and held his arms out. The baby went willingly and tucked himself into his father.
Hermione watched as Draco went up the stairs to the kids' bathroom before she turned to Evander again.
"That was a horrible thing to say." She chided. "You've hurt your father's feelings."
Evander stuck his lip out and crossed his arms.
"He hurt my feelings." He pouted. "I wanted to stay with Rosie and Remus."
Hermione sighed and sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to her. Evander crawled up onto the cushions and resolutely looked anywhere but his mother.
"I think we need to have a little talk. However, this is a talk for big boys. And you, my darling, are not acting like a big boy." Evander bristled at that and sat up straight.
"Yes, I am,"
"Alright then. Evander, your father, Uncle Ron, Uncle Harry and I all went to Hogwarts together. You know this." He nodded. "We didn't get along with your father very well. None of us were very nice to each other. Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron didn't used to like me either. They used to say some mean things before we became friends."
Evander twisted until he was staring directly at Hermione, interested now.
"We all made some mistakes. Your father too. Uncle Ron still hasn't forgiven him for those mistakes, but he made up for them. He apologized and worked very hard to make people believe that he was sorry. Uncle Ron doesn't believe him just yet." She reached forward and smoothed her son's hair. "He was very mean to your father today. He used a bad spell on him." Evander gasped.
"I'm sorry that you are sad that you didn't get to spend more time with your cousins, sweet boy. But your father was sad as well. What happened this evening wasn't his fault. You've made him feel quite badly about it."
"Sorry," Evander mumbled.
"It's not me that deserves an apology."
He nodded sheepishly and slipped off the couch toddling up the stairs to his parents' bathroom with his mother trailing after him. He then promptly barreled into his dad's knees; arms wrapped around his long legs.
Hermione stopped and watched, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door as she looked Draco up and down. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the blood-stained bandages that definitely needed to be changed and his eyes were tired even as he used his wand to send bubbles floating above Theo's head making the toddler giggle wildly.
"I'm sorry," Evander's voice was muffled in the fabric of Draco's trousers.
"Unnecessary. I'm sure you were disappointed." Draco responded, reaching down to pat the child's back. Evander nodded.
"Did Uncle Ron hurt you?" his curious little eyes were wide and sad as he peered up at his dad. Draco smiled.
"No, and you needn't worry about that. The issues between your Uncle and I are just that and you won't concern yourself with them. He loves you and that is what matters to your mother and I." the four-year-old nodded hesitantly.
"Well, I'm mad at him."
Draco sighed and crouched down with a quick glance at Theo to ensure he wasn't on the verge of drowning.
"Your feelings are valid, Evander. You're allowed to be upset." He hummed, dropping to one knee with a grimace until he was eye level with his son. "But you mustn't be angry with Weas- your Uncle on my behalf. He has done nothing to you, only to me. You love your uncle. Don't allow adult matters to affect that. Family is much too important. Do you understand?"
Evander nodded again then wound his arms around Draco's neck and nuzzled into his chest.
"I didn't mean it." He mumbled.
"I know," Draco soothed and stroked his blond hair.
"love you,"
"I love you too, son."
If Hermione's eyes were watery, she blamed it on the hormones.
"Come along, Evander. Let's get ready for bed." She held out a hand and pulled her son along behind her.
By the time the boys were in snuggled in bed and sung to sleep, Draco was rigid on the bed, pushing and pulling air through his gritted teeth with eyes shut tight.
"Sore?"
He nodded once.
"Concussed?"
Another nod.
"Can I stun you?"
A third.
"Stupefy," her wand twitched, and the spell was muttered quietly followed instantly by Draco going completely limp on the bed, features finally relaxing enough that Hermione barely recognized him.
He was beautiful like that. He looked young, painless, unburdened. He looked free. Hermione dreamt that one day Draco would look like that awake.
The reality was that neither of them ever would. The nightmares, the paranoia. That was all permanent as long as their memories were, and as she magicked Draco's clothes away, she knew the sight of his body would be an added memory that fueled her nightmares. She told herself that she had seen him in much worse shape.
Her hands shook as she cast a diagnostic for what wasn't visible.
His concussion was a pulsing, dark purple light that showed just how bad it was.
The cracks in his ribs were still in the process of mending under the guidance of the healing charm but the bright yellow told her that he must have been in a serious kind of pain that he had neglected to share with her.
Small fractures road-mapped across his arm. Her healing spells had held up long enough for it to be useable and dulled a little bit of the pain. But the destructive curse had done its damage and the breaks were still there.
His bruised kidney glowed orange showing both severity of the bruising and the pain that he was in.
Her vision blurred with tears because aside from even the internal damage, the bruising on the surface was horrific.
And as the bandages unwound from around his scarred and tattooed forearm she almost gagged at the sight of the red, angry, warm to the touch, sluggishly bleeding cut. The destructive nature of the Dark Mark made it reject any attempt at removal. It viewed Goyle and Greengrass's actions as just that.
The witch breathed deeply, readjusted her grip on her wand and went to work. The concussion would resolve itself. It wasn't his first. His ribs were healing; that at least hadn't been a magical injury and was responding well to her spells. His kidney had been the result of blunt force trauma and it too was responding to her healing. His arms were another matter entirely. Both suffered magical maladies and wouldn't be solved with any of her conventional healing spells. The war had taught her well though. She'd long since discovered ways around that.
The broken bones were easily fixed, albeit painfully.
"Ossio dispersimus,"
His arm deflated like a balloon until it was lying flat and limp on the bed, literally boneless. The Skelegrow would fix that.
The mangled mess in her lap was daunting. She hardly knew where to begin with that. The dark magic felt almost alive in the layers of flesh. Almost like whatever caused the mark to move under his skin was now exposed and just clinging to him, sitting on the surface like heavy fog.
The checklist formed in her head, one step at a time.
"Scourgify," the telltale signs of an infection dulled slightly as the overall angriness of the wound dissipated a little. It was a variation of the memory extraction charm that she used next. Very similar wand movement, except instead of the fluttery beauty of the silvery memories being pulled from somebody's head it was angry dark filaments being dragged from her husband's arm, not without a fight. By the time she had siphoned as much of the poisonous magic from the wound, there was a thin sheen of sweat across most of her body. Dark magic agreed with nobody, but least of all with her.
"Tergeo," the blood, both dry and fresh vanished leaving ragged edges and frayed skin visible. Whatever healing she had managed the day before had been undone by the Mark. Not for the first time, Hermione hoped that someday she'd find a way to remove it; faded and dormant was not good enough. "Vulnera Sanentur," she waved her wand, sweeping over the limb in her lap. "Vulnera Sanentur," again, "Vulnera Sanentur," and again. It was going to scar horribly no matter what she did. "Ferula," bandanges spun themselves around the closed wound and Hermione took that minute to just breathe before,
"Rennervate,"
Draco's body jerked immediately and Hermione was there, carding her fingers through his sweaty hair and murmuring nonsensically while he gained his bearings.
"I've got most everything sorted,"
"Doesn't feel sorted," he groaned. Hermione's eyes rolled while his glanced down at his immobile arm. "Skelegrow?" he grimaced. She nodded. "Let's get it over with then, yeah?" his eyes fluttered shut and Hermione nodded, maneuvering off the bed to the cabinet housing her potions.
As he downed the sludgy liquid, he gagged once, twice, and then Hermione clamped her hand down over his mouth.
"Swallow it,"
Once he had, his body sagged, melting into the mattress.
"Rest now," Draco said. Hermione's eyes widened and flitted around the room at the mess. She was undoubtedly reviewing some mental to do list. "Now, Granger."
"You'll wake me if –"
"Enough."
"Okay," her eyes were closed before her head hit the pillow.
SHACKLEBOLT DEAD: WHO WILL BE OUR NEXT MINISTER?
That headline was splashed across the front of the Daily Prophet the next morning. Harry was banging on her front door before Draco, Evander or Theo were even awake. She was sitting at the dining table, tea going cold in her hands while she stared at the bold words.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was dead.
Thud, thud, thud "Hermione, c'mon. Open the door."
That shook her out of whatever shocked state she had fallen into.
"You're going to wake them up." She said numbly as she pulled the door open. Harry pushed past her, into her house. "Come in," she said sarcastically.
"You have to run," he said. No preamble. No good morning.
"I can't," she said quietly.
"You have to, 'Mione. You know I can't. You're the only one even remotely qualified. You know that. I know that. Shacklebolt knew that."
"I can't, Harry."
"You can. I'll help you. Who knows who will run? We can't have another tosser in power. I won't have it. I'm Head Auror, I'll endorse you. We'll do it together." He rambled.
"Harry. You're not listening." She sighed quietly. "I can't." her hand drifted upwards, expression a little dreamy and dazed as the headlines flashed in her mind's eye. Her fingers splayed out as her hand came to rest on her belly, the action flattening her shirt against her form, outlining the slight swell of her abdomen.
Harry froze before his face broke out in a dazzling smile.
"'Mione, congratulations," he gushed, closing the distance between them immediately and pulling her into a crushing hug. Hermione sagged against him and she felt the concern replace his excitement as he found himself holding up more of her weight than he expected to.
"Hermione?" she straightened immediately and brushed herself off. His sigh was immediate as he tugged her back into the hug with the arm he had wrapped around her back. "What's going on?"
Her breathing picked up as emotion threatened to choke her. Then she was crying.
"I don't know what's come over me, I –"
"That's alright,"
"It's just, so much is- Draco, and work, and the boys, and Ron being a complete arse, and the Mark and the baby, and I'm tired Harry, I'm so tired, and now Shacklebolt is – and I – "
Just as Harry opened his mouth to reply, Theo's cries echoed through the expansive house. Hermione's shoulders fell instantly and Harry tugged her back once again.
"You are going back to bed,"
"But Theo – "
"And Evander are going to spend some time with Uncle Harry."
"But – "
"Ginny took James, Remus and Lily to a play date. I am not working today. You are going back to bed. Or go have a shower, I don't care. But I'm taking my godsons for the morning. Go on," he pushed her gently in the direction of the stairs and followed her up, stopping at Evander and Theo's bedroom door.
Draco was still asleep and he barely twitched even as Hermione climbed back into bed, falling asleep once again to the sounds of Harry and her sons chatting happily amongst themselves.
The second time Hermione Granger woke up that day, she woke up alone. The only reason she awoke in the first place was because of the shining sun and its determination to blind her, even with her eyes closed.
Draco was gone, the house was too quiet and it was one in the afternoon.
The ever present sense of anxiety peeked over the walls of control she tended to keep firmly in place and she dragged herself out of bed for the second time that day.
Downstairs was quiet and there was nobody in sight. Her breathing picked up without her permission and she forced herself to inhale and exhale with intention before moving on. As she was checking the kitchen for any sign of her boys, she caught a glimpse of movement in the backyard through the bay window and was out the backdoor in the next moment.
Harry and Evander were on one broom. Harry with one hand on the broom, one arm around her son. Evander was giggling oh-so-loudly, blond hair whipping around his face as he steered. Draco was holding Theo tight with one arm and the toddler was clinging to his neck, watching over his dad's shoulder as they flew lazily around the backyard a few feet off the ground, Draco steadying himself with his legs.
"Draco Malfoy, you land that broom right this instant!" Hermione shrieked, all but stomping her foot.
"As you wish," he chuckled, letting the broom float downwards. Hermione rushed towards them and swiped Theo from his arms.
"Are you alright, sweetling?"
"Again!" Theo cheered, bouncing in Hermione's arms.
"Absolutely not,"
Draco chuckled, reaching to ruffle Theo's hair as Harry landed with Evander.
"Alright boys, off you go. Inside. Wash up," Evander pouted but grabbed Theo's hand, pulling him into the house. "Completely irresponsible, the both of you," she hissed once the children were out of earshot. Both green and grey eyes rolled.
"The boys had fun. Lighten up 'Mione."
Draco smirked at Harry.
"Yeah, Granger."
She sighed in exasperation.
"Harry, would you like to stay for lunch?" he glanced at his wristwatch with a moment of hesitation before shrugging.
"After that, I'll have to be on my way."
"Of course," Hermione nodded and gestured the two men inside.
Lunch was served, the kids had eaten their fill and were running around with toy brooms while Harry, Hermione and Draco sat at the table. The solemnity of the situation had crashed back down as they contemplated all the different people who could run now that Shacklebolt was dead.
"Almost everyone is in Azkaban, Granger."
"Yes, almost. There's a trace on Unforgiveables so that will help as well but we would be foolish to let our guard down."
They'd had no one other than Shacklebolt in power since Voldemort's attempt and the anxiety surrounding that position was thick and heavy in the air. Every worst-case scenario ran through the heads of three grown-up children of a war that would never really leave them. They all sat there listening to the shrieks and giggles of the generation to whom they had sworn a better world, hoping that their nerves were unfounded.
They weren't.
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