Luckily for Draco, the rest of the day had passed with minimal temper tantrums, tears and/or destruction. The children were finally in bed and he finally had the chance to crack open that cold beer he had wanted earlier on. He sat at his large, oak desk in his office. Scrunched up balls of parchment surrounded him on the floor, he was trying to write a letter to Granger regarding the organisation of meeting with the children but he just couldn't get the wording quite right. He wasn't even really sure why he was accepting the help, maybe it was the third disastrous trip out in a row or the fact that two Nanny's that had quit on him due to Scorpius' behaviour or maybe it was the sorrow that he saw in Granger's dark brown eyes that so matched the sorrow in his own eyes? Whatever it was, he did need the support and why not logically seek it from someone in a similar position to her own.

It took several more attempts before he had finally sent his owl off the Potter residence with a letter for Granger. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he slowly massaged his temples. It had been an exhausting day, he withdrew his pocket watch from his robes and checked the time, it had only just passed 8pm, it felt a lot later than that. He stood up and stretched upwards, groaning as his muscles ached. Firewhisky was what he needed so he trudged along to the kitchen from the study, ensuring to lock and ward it from his children behind him. He shuddered as he remembered the destruction they had caused the one time that he had forgotten. In a matter of minutes, the two of them had managed to uproot every single one of his files, remove most of the books from the bookshelf, and even went as far as ripping a fair few of the pages out of some of his favoured novels. He also shuddered again when he remembered his father informing him that he was too soft with the children, if Draco himself had pulled such an act he would have been caned immediately. Luckily for Scorpius and Elladora, Draco did not approve of his father's parenting methods. He may not be that great at disciplining his children but at least they weren't petrified of him. He'd take naughty behaviour over them being scared of him any day.

He took a seat at the large island in the middle of the open plan kitchen. Astoria had loved this kitchen. Before the curse rendered her bed bound she would take pride in her cooking skills, she won the first prize at the county fair in the baking competition twice in a row. She did it mostly the muggle way too, she used the even instead of heating charms and often mixed ingredients by hand. Draco smiled as he remembered how care free she would be when she was in the kitchen, how he would sit on the very stool he was sat in and just watch her thrive I her element.

Draco had never learned to cook. He tried after Astoria died but it was only a matter of weeks before his mother had surrendered one of their house elves to him claiming that she would not allow her grandchildren to live with a fire hazard like him. Once he had set fire to the dinner he was attempting to prepare but he was to never live it down. Since then it had been Tinker who did all of the cooking and she was very good at it too.

Draco withdrew his wand and after a couple of quick spells, a bottle of firewhisky and a glass with a couple of lumps of ice were in front of him. He pocketed his wand once more before he poured himself a drink. As the liquor burned at his throat his thoughts turned from Astoria to Hermione Granger. The woman who has seen someone struggling and offered her assistance. The woman who had also lost her spouse and also happened to have twin children. The woman who was once the girl he bullied relentlessly. Looking back on his behaviour as a child made him want to find a cave someone and never return. He had been a true horror to people who really didn't deserve it. The memory of how flippantly he used the M slur left a sour taste in his mouth. Granger was the first muggle born Draco had met, he was confused for a long time, his father's teachings were burned into his brain but as he passed through the years at Hogwarts he was shown how truly wrong he was. It wasn't until muggle borns were being dragged through his childhood home that he really realised that they were no different to the pure bloods, if anything they were better. They didn't value hatred, they didn't raise children to pawns in their games. And then there was that afternoon where the snatchers brought the golden trio into the Manor. He'd lied. He couldn't be sure that it was them. He'd then stood idly by whilst Granger herself was tortured on the carpet in front of him. He could still see her limp and bleeding body. He could still hear her screams.

He poured himself another glass of fire whisky his mind spiralling down a spiral it hadn't fallen down for a while. The spiral tightening as one by one the memory of every person who was tortured or murdered in his presence. The students at Hogwarts under the Carrow's terrifying lead before his mind went back to Granger. Granger in the third year, the way her eyes burned with hatred as her fist connected with his nose. Granger in the fourth year as she slowly entered the Yule Ball dressed in one of the most beautiful dresses Draco had ever seen even though he never would have admitted that at the time. Granger in fifth year as they Busted Potters secret army. Granger in sixth year who watched him suspiciously from across the Great Hall. Granger in seventh year, standing across from him and the other death eaters when she thought Harry was dead. Her relief when he revealed that he wasn't. Then she had disappeared from Draco's life. They walked in different circles. She went to teach at Hogwarts and when she came back she took a desk job at the ministry. He'd seen the odd article about her on the rare occasions he threw his eyes over the Daily Prophet but that wasn't often. His parents had been the one to inform him of Weasley's death. Draco may not have liked the guy but 24 is too young to die.

He drained the last drops of whisky from his glass and considered pouring another one but shook his head. Part of him wanted to wait up to see Granger's response to his letter but he didn't really want to have to deal with his children in the morning and a hangover. Instead he withdrew his wand and the fire whisky and glass disappeared. He stood up and trudged down to his bedroom, his shoulders felt heavy and his heart hurt.

Draco slipped out of his day robes and crawled into bed, his soft, velvet sheets enveloping him with the soothing fabric. Getting into bed was one of Draco's favourite moments of the day, he breathed deeply as he felt his muscles relax into the soft mattress beneath him. He knew that the brief peace he felt would soon be interrupted by his tormented dreams but he had long resounded to just enjoy it whilst it lasted. He inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower, as he exhaled, he paid attention to the muscles in his body and imagined them turning off. Eventually after only a few minutes of deep breathing, he was asleep.

Hermione Granger was tucked up in her favourite arm chair with one of Mrs Weasley's knitted blankets over her legs. She was reading one of her all-time favourite muggle novels: Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet. It was one of the first novels she had read on her own and therefore it held a special place in her heart. She was halfway through the novel when there was a disruption at the window behind her. She turned to see an owl tapping on the window with its beak. She frowned for a moment as she untangled herself from the blanket. It wasn't until she was in the window and was accepting the letter from the owl did she remember her offer to Malfoy.

"So you're Malfoy's owl." She greeted the regal owl, it chirped at her as she took the letter he had brought for her. "Thank you." She said as the owl flew away. She closed the window after she had watched the bird fly until it was out of sight. She looked down at the envelope in her hand. Sealed by wax and it sported the Malfoy crest. Her heartrate started to increase as she settled back down in the arm chair. She still wasn't sure what had made her follow him out of the pub, maybe the familiarity of having to haul children out half way through your visit due to their behaviour, maybe it was the lost look in Malfoy's eyes as he hurried away. Whatever it was she had followed him, and she had asked him for help which shockingly he accepted, nerves were starting to build inside her, she hadn't really expected him to say yes. She didn't expect him to owl her so quickly either. She sighed to herself as she opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment from inside.

Dear Ms Granger,

I am writing to further discuss our brief conversation after the complete debacle my children made of a quick lunch this afternoon.

It may appear rushed but I am off work tomorrow, if you have time you and the children are welcome to come visit us here for tea and we can discuss the problems that are occurring. If tomorrow is inconvenient then I am off again after Wednesday. Please reply with what is convenient for you, my address can be found on the reverse of this parchment.

Your sincerely,

D. L. Malfoy.

Hermione had to chuckle at the formality of the letter, she wondered if he was this formal with everyone in his life. She couldn't quite decipher her feelings as she stared down at the letter in front of her. She thought about what Ron would have to say about the situation. Unlike herself and Harry, Ron never really grew out of his dislike for the Malfoys, Draco in particular. She could just imagine him now, his face reddening as he lectured her about how the Malfoy's were dangerous. She would argue back that three-year olds cannot be dangerous. He would roll his eyes and mumble that she knew who he was talking about.

Hermione closed her eyes as the familiar ache rose inside her. Ron might have been a prat at times but he was her prat and she missed him with her entire being. He'd been a part of her life since she was 11 years old and adapting to not having him by her side wasn't easy, his absence so obvious in so many ways. That's why moving in with Harry and Ginny had been needed at the time. It wasn't her proudest moment but for a while after Ron's death she shrunk in to herself. She spent nearly four months up in one of the Potter's guest rooms, mostly in bed either asleep or just staring at nothing but everything all at once. Ginny completely took over in caring for the children, who would often join Hermione in bed at nights. Hermione genuinely wouldn't have known what to do if it wasn't for both Ginny and Harry when he was home. It was Harry who had gotten her out of the bedroom for the first time apart from when she used the bathroom. After that it got easier each time she did it. Now the urge to hide from the world hit her less and less as the months passed. It had been a good month since she had last spent the whole day just hiding in bed. She sighed to herself as she summoned a piece of parchment and a quill.

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I am also off work this week and fortunately we do not have plans for tomorrow. Or today if this does not reach you until morning. We will be able to come to you for 1:30pm. I will bring with me some books and information you may find helpful.

See you tomorrow,

Hermione Granger.

The note was short but to the point. She summoned an envelope and placed the parchment inside before she sealed it shut. Seeing as Malfoy's owl didn't hang around for a reply, Hermione went in to the kitchen to find Harry's owl. She was on her perch by the back door. Hermione greeted her and offered her a treat before she attached the letter to the bird's foot. The large snowy owl chirped at her and accepted another treat before she hopped over to the window and took off.

Hermione leant back against the counter and sighed. She felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. Since seeing Malfoy in Diagon Alley her mind had been forcing her back to her past, to before Ron and her were even romantically involved. The memories were shrouded in darkness and almost hazy, out ruled by the pain for losing her husband it was rare these days that her memories of the war had this much of an impact. She pushed herself off the shelves and shuffled along to the living room. On the far side of the room stood a tall oak bookshelf. Hermione approached it slowly, she ran her fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf eye level to her. She stopped at a dusty photo album and gently removed it from the shelf.

With the book clutched to her chest, she settled down in the arm chair and placed it on her knees. She inhaled a shake breath as she turned the first page to be greeted by her younger self alongside a young Harry. The two children were standing in the court yard, huge smiles on their faces as they wave at the camera.

Hermione turned over the page, the next photo was of Ron and Harry throwing snow balls near the quidditch pitch during their first year. None of them had really experienced a true snow fall until they all ended up at a school in the Highlands of Scotland. That first snow fall was a novelty to them, she remembered how wonderful she felt as she walked through the freshly laid snow, she also remembered how by what would have been her seventh year, she was sick to death of the snow.

Slowly, Hermione continued to flip through the old photo album which documented their first few years at Hogwarts, the good years as her and Harry had come to call them. She let the years fall as she watched her younger self in the photographs. She longed to go back to when her biggest worry was her school grades. She paused over a photograph of Ron; he was sat cross legged in front of one of the large fireplaces in the Gryffindor common room. A wizard's chest board set out in front of him. He was looking at the board with intense concentration. Hermione ran her hand over the photograph as she felt tears start to form in the corners of her eyes. She tried to blink them away, she looked up at the ceiling but it was no use, when she looked back down at the photograph to turn the page her tears started to fall. There were times where she felt grief more heavily than she did in other times and this was one of those moments where it felt like it was crushing her. She closed the photo album and gently moved it onto the arm of the chair. She then tucked her knees up to her chest, hugged her legs and let the tears fall. Her chest heaved as she felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest once more. Every night was a similar story, she would be alright at first but then at some point the grief would start knocking on the door and no matter how hard she tried, she could never stop it from crashing in. She thought that she had felt pain before in her life, the war took many casualties so grief was not unfamiliar to her, however the grief she felt after losing Ron was overwhelming. She remembered being asked what the cruciatus curse felt like on a pain scale of one to ten where 1 was no pain and 10 was the worst pain imaginable. Hermione told the healer that it was a 9, and the healer remarked that she was obviously strong because most people claim it to be a 10 or worse. If someone was to ask her to rate her pain on a scale of 1 to 10 right then, it would be a 10.

Hermione let the episode run its course, as she did most nights and after she was sure she had finished crying for longer than ten minutes, she slowly stood up. Her muscles ached as she stretched, she wasn't sure how long she had been sat there but judging by the stiffness of her muscles, it had been a while. She gently picked up the photo album and placed it back on to the bookshelf. She sighed deeply before she turned and walked out of the room.

If she hadn't been exhausted before that episode, she certainly was now so she climbed the stairs and headed towards her bedroom. She checked in on the twins as she passed the bedroom. Both twins were sharing a double bed. Both twisted around each other as they slept. Hermione leant against the door frame and just watched them for a moment. They looked so peaceful in their sleep, untouched by the harsh realities of the world. Children were supposed to be sheltered from that harshness but hers hadn't been. She might be able to protect them from the monsters under the bed and the bad men in their dreams but losing their father was something she couldn't save them from. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she could feel the build up of tears starting again so she backed out of the twins room and hurried along to her own.

A/N: Slightly delayed but better late than never has always been my motto lol! Thank you very much to those who have read and reviewed! You're awesome!