Chapter Two

Draco entered the Leaky Cauldron from the Diagon Alley side, and gestured to the positively ancient barkeep, who was standing behind the counter, looking tired and worn out.

"Firewhisky."

The older man, momentarily taken aback by the intensity with which Draco made the request, merely nodded and picked up a glass.

"Can I send a message from here? Do you have any owls on the premises?" Draco asked, surveying his surroundings while nervously tapping the bar, seeing what might be available. The wizard gestured over to the corner, where there appeared to be several cages of owls available for use. Draco muttered his thanks, immediately headed over to the owls and scribbled out a quick message using the parchment provided on the nearby desk. He attached his letter to an owl, before releasing it out the back window. Draco walked back over to the bar, took a seat and began to sip his firewhisky.

He wanted to drink himself into an absolute oblivion, but he had to see if he got a response first.

Draco sipped while he waited, contemplating everything that had happened over the past several hours. He was grateful the bartender didn't seem inclined to chat. Not with Draco, in any event. He looked at his shaking hands, and held his glass tighter. His finger, where the Malfoy signet ring had sat since his thirteenth birthday, felt naked.

About 15 minutes later, a silver ghost-like stag appeared before him. Starting off with an audible sigh, Potter's voice echoed around him. "I will be there in 10 minutes, Malfoy." And then the Patronus vanished. Malfoy finished his glass and ordered another one, intending to sip this one slower, his hands still trembling.

Before long – or maybe it was hours, honestly, Draco had no fucking idea – Harry Potter sat down on the stool next to him. Potter took one look at Draco's shaking hands and sighed. "I'm going to need one of those as well, I think." Draco silently gestured to the bartender for another. The elderly wizard slid the glass over to Potter with a smile – one that, Draco noted idly, had not been extended towards him.

"On the house, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks Tom, cheers." Potter collected his glass, with a quick smile at the man who passed it to him.

The smile dropped from his face as he fixed his gaze on Draco, his green eyes serious. "Okay, Malfoy, I will give you 10 minutes to explain to me why you have brought me here. After which, depending on how this talk goes, we may have to duel."

"Ten minutes isn't a lot of time, Potter." Draco scowled down at his glass, his guts twisting in his anxiety.

"Well, you see, I had to leave Ginny to console a sobbing, pregnant Hermione by herself, and I don't want to leave them alone for too long. Apparently, she got into a fight with this bloke who knocked her up, and then left her so he could marry another woman."

"I didn't know she was pregnant!" Draco exploded, exasperated.

Potter's stern gaze regarded Draco without pity. "Still left her, though."

"It's not like I wanted to marry Astoria! I've only ever wanted Granger; I just didn't realize she wanted me too."

"The years long secret relationship didn't clue you in at all?"

Draco buried his face in his hands. He was so fucked. "We didn't talk about anything like that – I never wanted to bring it up for fear that she'd stop seeing me altogether."

"So instead, you said nothing, but continued to see her while you were in the process of arranging to marry someone else, only telling her about it once you were basically already engaged?"

Well, when you put in those terms, Draco sounded like a right piece of shite. Draco scowled at his drink. "Potter, I know we aren't friends."

Harry snorted, picking up his own glass and bringing it to his lips. "Oh, you think?" The dark-haired wizard took a sip of his firewhisky, and gave Draco a wry sort of half-smile, feigning disbelief.

Draco glared at him. "As I was saying, I know we aren't friends. But my parents are kind of intense, especially my father. None of this was presented as a choice to me."

"If you want to use your ten minutes with me, to explain how you have been hard done by in these circumstances, we will end in a duel. Fair warning."

"Potter, I broke off my engagement, renounced my family and my family's fortune, and left the Manor with only my wand."

Harry's eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his stool. "Oh shit. Really?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, really. What can I do to make this up to Granger?"

Harry shrugged, and held out his hands. "Never gotten engaged and have done the rest of it sooner?"

Draco scoffed. "Thanks, Potter. Have a time turner handy?"

"Malfoy, she is devasted. You have no idea. It took us so long to get her to even tell us what was wrong. Ron is so bloody furious with you about this – Hermione made him back out of attending your parent's ball, because she was certain he wouldn't be able to get through the night without physically attacking you. Ron actually proposed to Hermione, when he found out she was pregnant."

Draco took a sip of his drink immediately before Potter mentioned 'Ron' and 'proposed' – that particular combination of words causing him to breathe in sharply, inhaling firewhisky in the process. Draco began furiously coughing, his hand on his chest, as he panicked. His mind reeled, refusing to process what he had just heard, as he fought to expel the alcohol from his lungs. Potter actually got up off of his stool and started clapping Draco on the back, his face showing real concern for the gasping blond wizard.

Eventually, Draco stopped sputtering. "What did she say?" he choked out; his voice raw. The idea of Hermione being married to Ron was the second most horrifying thing he'd ever contemplated, followed quickly by the most horrifying thing he'd ever thought of – his child being raised as a Weasley.

"Oh, she told him, no. Of course. She wants to raise the baby on her own, anyway. Seeing how the father had rendered himself unavailable."

Draco buried his face in his hands. "Potter, I know I fucked up with Granger, truly. But I want to make this right. Please tell me what I can do."

Harry sighed and put down his glass. "Okay, for starters, I won't duel you about this. Not tonight anyway. But if you break her heart any further in the future, I won't care that you didn't actually mean to do so – are we clear on that?"

"Crystal clear."

"Right. She's not going to see you tonight – nor anytime soon. And no matter what you say about leaving your parents and your fiancée behind, she's not going to believe it. Not unless it sticks. You can't tell her anything, Malfoy. You have to show her what she means to you, and you have to show her that you are worthy of her giving you a second chance. Actually, I suppose it would be at least your third chance. Got your second one after the war, and look what you did with it."

Draco couldn't argue the point, but he was annoyed by the reminder. "I am aware of my many failings, Potter. Thank you."

"Go public with your estrangement with your family. Sort out your life as someone who isn't just an aristocrat – I don't know, get a job, find a place to live. Show her that you are making real changes with your life and see if she'll speak with you then. I don't think she'll give you a chance on the mere promise that things will be different, and I can't say I blame her." Potter took a long pull from his glass before putting it down on the bar, turning to face Draco and looking him straight in the eyes.

"You rejected her Malfoy – you rejected her as being unworthy of having a real place in your life because of what she is – not something she's done, not something she can control. And she's already been enormously forgiving of you over things you had at least some control over. Frankly, I'm not sure she ought to be as forgiving with the choices you have made involving her following the war – the things you've done when your life was no longer being threatened."

Draco sat, looking at the empty glass in his hands, unable to meet Potter's eyes. He was right. And he wasn't even being the slightest bit smug about it, the prick. Draco didn't deserve this level of kindness from Potter, either.

Potter kept speaking, his voice quiet but intent. "During the war, she was targeted for death by blood supremacists, Malfoy. Her and everyone else like her." Draco flinched. Blood supremacists that Draco helped, Potter meant, but tactfully did not say.

The dark haired wizard continued, looking at Draco steadily as he spoke. "Whenever I would try to apologize to Hermione for dragging her into all of these dangerous situations – just so she could save my sorry arse – she would tell me that I was being ridiculous, because sitting on the sidelines wasn't an option for her. Not when the other side's intentions were to eradicate all Muggle-borns. And all of that – all of the hatred and violence directed against people like Hermione? That was fueled by the cultural practices of the 'Sacred' Twenty-Eight. And you left her - for another woman - so you could go perpetuate those practices. I honestly don't know how you could have hurt her more."

Draco sat in stunned disbelief, having been rendered mute by Potter's words. He really couldn't meet the other man's eyes now. Fuck, Draco just hadn't wanted to deal with his father's prejudice, and he didn't want to have Lucius Malfoy's inevitable disgust and anger directed at him. Draco could acknowledge – now, at least – that he had also been too afraid to confront Hermione about his feelings; his own anxiety held him back. But Draco truly had not considered what might have been holding things back from Hermione's perspective – at least not in the stark terms just presented to him by Harry Potter.

I honestly don't know how you could have hurt her more.

That one was going to stick with Draco for a long time, he could feel it. Draco had to find a way to make it up to Hermione. Although, Merlin knows why the witch ever gave him the time of day, in the first place.

Harry looked at Draco, his own expression glum. "For what it's worth, I don't believe that you intended to hurt her."

"Fat lot of good that will do either of us now, unfortunately. But thank you, I guess." Draco finished his drink, feeling the burn of it down his throat. He wondered if he looked as devasted as he felt. Probably – it would explain the consoling, pitying gaze Potter was sending in his direction, for fuck's sake.

"Okay, I am apparently unaware of the full extent of my personal failings, so I will spend some time reflecting on that later. But for now, I have a concern that I need to share with you, but I'm not certain that there is anything for you to actually be worried about." Draco was unsure about what he was about disclose to Potter, but felt he needed to inform Granger's best friend some of what had transpired at the Manor.

Potter's glass was almost all the way to his mouth, when put it down instead and straightened up in his seat, shifting into auror mode instantly. Not that Draco would ever admit it out loud, but it was mildly impressive. "I'm all ears, Malfoy."

"Before I left the Manor, my father said it would be better for the family, if Granger disappeared."

Harry's eyes flashed, enraged, and he looked murderously at Draco. Draco held out his hands in supplication.

"I know, Potter. I know. It was before I threatened him, and before I burned myself off of the bloody family tree, and it might have just been hot air before any of that, regardless. But I would like you to look into her security. If I'm not with her, I can't protect her. I can't protect them."

"Fuck, Malfoy. If that was his initial reaction, do you really think he'd let this go?"

"Probably. More likely than not. But I'm not absolutely certain – which is why I am telling you. When I said I burned myself off of the family tree, I'm not speaking metaphorically. I am no longer the Malfoy heir. Legally, magically, I am not even a member of House Malfoy any longer."

"What the fuck does that even mean? How would that even work?" Potter was agitated now, his concern for Hermione disrupting his aura of professionalism.

"I'm out, entirely. Essentially, they would have to magically adopt me as their heir in order to restore it – something that cannot happen without my participation. And I am done with my parents, Potter. Mother wanted to bribe Granger to marry some stranger, so my involvement would be hidden. It apparently never occurred to her that I might want to, you know, see my own child. And my father – fuck – he threatened Granger. He threatenedmy child. I can never go back."

Draco felt tears sting in his eyes and he willed himself to not let them fall, not in front of the fucking Boy Who Lived. This day had been trying enough, for Merlin's sake.

Harry pretended not to notice as Draco wiped his eyes.

A moment later, Draco sighed. "The point is, Lucius Malfoy will never want me to be his heir again – not after the way I left. Potter – I pulled my wand on my father, petrified him, told him I'd kill him if he ever harmed Granger, and then I disinherited myself legally and magically. You have some idea what that man is like – do you think he'd ever forgive me for humiliating him like that? Because I don't think he's emotionally capable of even considering it. The man spent close to three years as Voldemort's personal whipping boy and the same day Father was released from Azkaban, he was back to his old self. He didn't pick up a single ounce of humility after having to crawl for history's most dangerous narcist, in his own bloody home, for years."

"Merlin, okay." Harry seemed genuinely surprised by what Draco had done, as he absorbed Draco's explanation.

"Potter, this is why I attacked him and disinherited myself – it was the single best avenue I had to protect Granger and the baby. My parents shouldn't want anything to do with me, not anymore – which will make her safer. It will make themboth safer. But I'm not absolutely certain it will be enough, which is why I'm taking my concerns to you."

Harry nodded, business-like manner returning. "Alright. I'm going to have to interview your father. Her pregnancy is going to be all the Prophet talks about tomorrow, so I will use the new scrutiny as the pretext to have the aurors' department do some security checks at her flat and office. I will be discreet about the source of my concern, but it will be difficult to investigate your father, without mentioning – this – to someone else. At a minimum, I will need to inform my department head."

"Her safety is paramount, so I don't care who you have to inform. I just need her to be safe."

"I understand. I will convince Hermione to stay at my place, at least until I can run the security sweeps. I'd best be off – I'd like to try to grab a couple of hours of sleep, seeing how I am now going to be heading into the office first thing tomorrow, er, well, later today, I guess." Potter downed the rest of his own glass, standing up and slapping Draco on his back. "I will tell her you want to see her, but don't expect that she'll be up for that immediately. And maybe don't surprise side-along apparate pregnant witches – who are also bloody war survivors – in the future, you git. You fucking terrified her!"

Draco hung his head, chagrinned. "I wasn't thinking – I was in shock. Please tell her I'm sorry and it won't happen again."

Harry scoffed at Draco, before turning serious. "I'll get right on it. You are going to be a father, Malfoy. I suggest you think about what kind of father you want to be."

"Potter, if – " Draco hesitated, thinking over what he wanted to ask. "If she ever needs me, I will do anything – anything I can. Even if she never sees me. Even if she never even knows about it. Just, if there is anything I can do, please promise me you'll reach out?"

Potter drew in a deep breath before answering. When he did, he wasn't hostile towards Draco, which was appreciated. "I'm not making any promises to you, but I will keep your offer in mind. I wouldn't try to contact her for a few days anyway, Malfoy. She's going to need a bit of space, before that would be a productive use of your time, so just give her that space for now. Try not to fuck this up any further, Malfoy. For your child's sake, if nothing else."

Draco nodded, his turn to look glum. Potter held out his hand to Draco, which Draco took after an instant of shocked hesitation. He was astounded by the gesture – and momentarily felt like he was standing outside of the Great Hall, the start of their first year at Hogwarts, futility holding his hand out to the boy, that the man now standing before Draco had been. They shook hands, exchanged nods and Potter headed to the floo, returning home. Draco still had a few galleons in his pockets, which he used to settle his tab and take one of rooms upstairs. He was fortunate that there was one left on such short notice, especially considering it was now three o'clock in the morning, on New Year's Day.

Draco lay in the too small, very uncomfortable bed, running over his conversations with Granger and Potter in his head, until unconsciousness took him. He rose after a few fitful hours, feeling like he hadn't rested at all. But he had too much to do, so he got into motion.

His first stop was Gringotts, to move his modest personal inheritance from his Black grandmother into a vault that was separate from the rest of the Malfoy holdings. It was nothing compared to the fortune he had left behind, practically a pittance when you got right down to it, but Draco should be able to find a place to live and support himself for a while, albeit not in the style to which he had been accustomed. He would still need to get a job – a first in untold generations of Malfoys – but at least he wasn't completely destitute.

Draco set up the account with the instruction that if anything happened to him, the funds were to be left to Hermione Granger and her child. The goblin making the arrangements raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. The Gringotts' employees were discreet, so Draco wasn't too concerned. Although, he probably should have been more worried about his insufficiently private conversation with Harry Potter, the night before at the Leaky. Draco didn't think anyone was around when they spoke – at least, not anyone who would be in a position to remember anything this morning. It had been very late, and the other patrons had been very intoxicated.

After Gringotts, Draco went to the offices of the Daily Prophet and paid for a full-page announcement to run the following day; proclaiming to the world that he broken his betrothal to Astoria, disowned his parents and permanently renounced his claims on any Malfoy family holdings. The witch who took both his galleons and the wording of his proposed announcement, was wide-eyed and shocked as she wrote down the message Draco was paying to send out to all of Wizarding Britain. He saw the clerk look meaningfully across the offices, getting the attention of a reporter, who nodded with his own knowing expression. Draco smirked. He had a feeling he knew what the front page would look like tomorrow.

Draco picked up a copy of that morning's paper when he was there, not at all surprised to see the current front page devoted to Granger and her pregnancy, just as Potter predicted. Golden Girl Tarnished? Who is the Father of Hermione Granger's Love Child?, the headline screamed above a picture of a clearly pregnant Hermione in her slinky, golden dress. Her expression was one of extreme irritation – probably at him, come to think of it – but she was still the most beautiful witch he had ever seen, Merlin save him. The Prophet's third page had pictures of six different wizards, with speculative theories underneath each as to how likely it was that any of the wizards' pictured were the unknown father. Draco was not featured, which actually stung for a moment – although he supposed it was ultimately for the best. Both Harry and the Weasel were, though. Along with two other Weasley brothers – George and Percy; Neville Longbottom and Viktor Krum.

Oh, Granger was going to be so pissed.

Draco pocketed the paper, and left for Nott Manor. He needed to talk to someone who might listen to him without too much judgment, and he was hopeful that Theo could offer him some advice. Draco wasn't exactly spoiled for choice as to who he could seek assistance from at present, which probably explained why his first attempt had been to ask the bloodyChosen One for help.

Theo greeted him a bit coolly – probably because Draco had showed up unannounced at 10 a.m. on New Year's Day and Theo was still a bit drunk from the night before. He glared, bleary-eyed, at Draco, before taking a Sober-Up and a hangover remedy mixed together. Apparently, after they were rushed out of Malfoy Manor more or less immediately after the midnight, a large group of younger Slytherins had staged an after-party at Nott Manor. Theo had just cleared them out at six o'clock in the morning, and he only had a few hours of being passed out, before Draco dragged him from his bed.

Theo listened to the story without comment, allowing Draco to get the entire saga out, uninterrupted. He wordlessly poured a glass of firewhisky and offered it to Draco, but Draco declined, sighing. "Theo, I had so little sleep last night. One drink and I'll be done for the day. And I have too much to sort out, at present."

Theo raised his eyes at that, and kept the drink for himself, sipping it thoughtfully. "I can't believe you knocked up Hermione Granger."

Draco glared at him.

"I mean, I knew there was something going on between you two – it was particularly obvious when we were still in school, by the way – but I had no idea you kept it going this long. Daphne's going to be so pissed at you."

Daphne had been pleased that Draco was marrying her younger sister, when Draco had bumped into her at her family's manor, a couple of months ago. She would likely be defensive on Astoria's behalf, but honestly, who fucking cared?

"Greengrass's emotional reaction to my life falling apart is not high on my list of priorities right now, Nott." Draco forced out, resisting the urge to throttle Theo. "What should I do?"

"I think Potter was right. You should get a job." Theo said, thoughtfully. "Too bad your father didn't have the decency to die in the war, like mine. Then all of this would have been a lot simpler."

Draco knew that he needed a job, he just needed to think about how he was going to go about getting one. The Ministry was out, as that was Granger's home turf and Draco thought she would think he was doing it just to antagonize her. Theo told him to put his potions' mastery to good use, and suggested he check out the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Draco thought that was a good idea, as he mentally berated himself for not thinking of it earlier. If nothing else, even if they weren't hiring, they might know of a position elsewhere that Draco could look at. Draco was quite adept at potions and he had even successfully improved some standard recipes by tinkering with them in his own lab back at the Manor. If the Apothecary owner could overlook his past – which was a pretty big 'if' – Draco knew he would be a good choice for someone to hire.

"How about this. Stay here for a bit, until you sort out the job. Then you can find your own place. I don't think crashing in a different Sacred Twenty-Eight Manor is going to help things with Hermione in the long term, but you can use this as your base of operation for the next week or so, while you get things sorted."

Draco sighed, and felt a bit relieved that he wasn't going to have to stay at the Leaky again. "Thank you, Theo." His friend clapped him on the back, and then immediately began gossiping about what happened at his own party last night. Draco sighed wearily. Maybe Theo wouldn't notice if he fell asleep in this chair. Draco settled in and closed his eyes.

xXx

The next morning, Draco woke up at Nott Manor to a Daily Prophet headline that exclaimed Malfoy Heir No Longer?, with a picture of Draco underneath, taken by the press at his parents' party. Astoria was standing next to him, looking very annoyed at Draco, her eyes rolling on a continual loop. Draco was looking off in the distance, thunderstruck and unmoving for the several seconds the photograph had captured. He couldn't have been more still if this were a Muggle photograph. It wasn't possible to tell from the photo, but Draco knew that this picture was taken when he was looking at Granger. No wonder Astoria had thought to follow him – Draco's occlusion skills were clearly in need of some shoring up, given how much of his utter shock and distress showed in his expression.

The accompanying article was mostly just his announcement regurgitated with more sensational adjectives and speculation. The version that he had paid for took up the whole of page three. The version that was breathless, and full of uninformed conjecture, was splayed across five other pages and did not contain any comment from his parents, nor from anyone associated with the Greengrass family. There was also no mention of Granger either, which relieved him immensely. He didn't want to bring her any unwarranted attention, especially since her pregnancy had been reported only the day before. He assumed that she would have a lot of correspondence arising from that, and he was grateful that ever since the war, her mail was screened by the aurors. He was also grateful to have had given Potter the jump on any potential security concerns coming from his father – just in case.

On January 3rd, Draco received an owl from Potter, telling him that while Hermione still wasn't prepared to speak with him, but she seemed less frosty about the prospect in general after seeing his announcement in the Prophet. Harry advised that he had already been to the Manor and was apparently satisfied that Granger – and their child – were not in any danger from Lucius Malfoy. Potter wrote that his father 'declined to acknowledge the existence of his blood-traitor son, and as regarding Hermione Granger, he had no desire to involve himself with the spawn of someone so unconnected to himself.' Draco's mother was apparently refusing to leave her rooms. Potter seemed unimpressed by Draco's parents in general, but he had been convinced that they were not intending to seek retribution by harming either Granger or their child.

The prat also had the nerve to say that he was proud of Draco for finally sticking up to his parents. What kind of person would write something that disgustingly sincere to the bloke who smashed his nose in, not even five years before? Tosser should have been in Hufflepuff.

Draco spent much of the morning re-reading the letter, especially the part about Granger warming up to communicating with him again. It was a start.

On the morning of January 4th, Draco and Theo were just sitting down for breakfast, when the Prophet arrived, featuring a tearful photograph of Astoria, with the headline, Former Malfoy Heir Impregnates Lover, Abandons Fiancée, with the subheading, Granger's Lovechild a Malfoy?, underneath.

"Oh, fuck!" Draco swore, as Theo leaned over his shoulder, the two wizards frantically reading the article.

"I told you the Greengrasses would be out for blood." Theo said, wearily, sitting back in his own seat.

"It's not a smart move for her either! Other Houses will be less likely to entertain a new arrangement for her, if she's out publicizing Sacred Twenty-Eight scandals." Draco didn't want to marry Astoria, but until now, he hadn't wished ill on the witch. Now that she had attacked Granger, all bets were off.

"She seems quite broken up about you. It seems you broke her heart."

"She doesn't have one."

Theo looked skeptical. Draco made a noise of exasperation. "Seriously, Theo. We never even kissed. Well, the photographer had me kiss her for a photo – closed mouth, while all four of our parents watched – but that was it. She's not lamenting her loss of me; she's lamenting her failure to secure the Malfoy vaults. That's all."

"You should write to Granger. This article is taking pains to leave everyone with the impression that Hermione interrupted your great love affair with Astoria. There's even the suggestion that she got pregnant on purpose, to trap you and destroy Astoria's happiness."

Draco ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Right. Fuck.

He penned a letter to Granger, but sent it to Potter with a cover letter – rather than have her incinerate it on sight. In his letter to Hermione, he apologized for everything, told her she was right about everything, apologized for his assumption that he was not as important to her as she was to him, and begged for her forgiveness. He told her that Astoria had overheard their conversation, and that her tale of a great love interrupted, was fiction – designed to hurt him and motivated by revenge, for breaking off their betrothal. "The only witch I have ever loved is you, Granger. And even if you never forgive me, you will be the only witch I ever love, until the day I die."

Merlin, he hoped Granger didn't murder him over this article, and make that day soon. Draco was baffled as to why Astoria thought it was a good idea for her to do this, particularly in this way? What prospective groom would touch her now, when she was openly crossing Lucius Malfoy in the most indiscreet manner possible?

In his letter to Potter, he asked the other wizard to see if Hermione would be prepared accept Draco's communication – giving him and his wife permission to read it themselves, if they thought it would help. That had rankled. His letter was deeply personal and he felt exposed enough by sending it to Hermione, never mind giving the Boy Who Bloody Lived and the She-Potter carte blanche to scrutinize the contours of his bleeding heart. But Draco had fucked up so huge; his discomfort was part the price of attempting to make things right.

The next day, he received a letter back – from Potter. He wrote:

She'll see you tomorrow at noon, at my house, Grimmauld Place. She's giving you one hour. I will open the floo network to you for the day. Do not be late. Good luck, Malfoy.

- Potter

Draco was distressed to find out how much Potter wishing him luck meant to him. Oh, how far he had fallen. His emotions had Draco behaving more and more like a bloody Hufflepuff these days, for Merlin's sake. It was humiliating enough to made teary-eyed every time he received a letter from his former Gryffindor rival, but worst yet, Draco was doing it in front of Theo. Theo tactfully did not comment on Draco's mood swings, and merely clapped his friend on the back.

"Good luck, mate. You are going to need it."

Draco swallowed and nodded.

No shit.