Chapter 11

Hermione was tipsy. Okay, Draco observed, she may have just edged over the line of clearheadedness. By an infinite of miles. She was drunk. Intoxicated. Inebriated.

But she had a reason. A complete and totally acceptable reason. He wouldn't even call it an excuse. If he were her, he'd have been a thousand times worse.

He watched as she chugged gulp after gulp of vodka, his own fire whisky untouched, grimacing at the thought of the hangover she'd have the next day. Which meant? Yes, she had to spend another night with him because there's no way in hell is he'd leave her alone in her state. And what a state she was on. Also he didn't want to leave her in that house without Scorpius. She'd wake up and have both a hangover and a heart attack. And then a panic attack.

People were staring. He didn't blame them. One, she looked absolutely ludicrous due to the gallons of alcohol burning it's way down her throat. Two, this was happening at 4 in the afternoon. Early, even by his standards. And three, she was with himself after the horrific ordeal that was the morning earlier.

He was grateful of the fact she barely resembled her former self as nothing would save her of the slander she'd receive after being with him. Even being the heroine of the Wizarding World. Well, prior heroine. But technicalities.

But as a calmness grounded him, a humongous storm of alarm consumed him. Everyone did know who she was. And it was all his fault.

-xXx-

8 hours earlier

Just as Draco went to enter Blaise's bedroom, he recoiled, remembering what he'd interrupted before. And what Rita Skeeter obviously witnessed. And photographed. And described in vivid, graphic detail. Yes, knocking is what he'd do.

He knocked numerously at an agitated rhythm. No reply. Odd. At 8am there wasn't really anywhere else for him to be. Except maybe with Luna? Especially after the atrocity of an article Rita had released earlier.

Sighing, he turned away from the door. He didn't apparate immediately but instead favoured wandering through his best friends manor. Something he didn't do often. He remembered when they were children both their mothers, Theo's, Pansy's and occasionally Mrs Greengrass would go on excruciatingly long shopping trips, leaving them at one of their homes with the elves. Because their fathers obviously had much important matters to attend to. Obviously. His face scrunched at the though of Lucius and the mess he'd left in his wake… Or death. All of this disarray was on his conscience. And Draco's. And Hermione's. It wasn't until that moment he fully accepted that it wasn't just Lucius at fault. And is mother. If he wasn't so immature Scorpius never would have been kept from him. If he wasn't such a bigot Hermione would've confided in him instead of his father. Did she ever want to tell him? If the answer was yes, colour him surprised. After the way he treat her for year after year he wouldn't and couldn't blame her for wanting nothing to do with him. Just because he couldn't blame her, didn't make the ache any duller.

He approached the spiralling stairway and soundlessly descended. He walked in silence, lost in vigorous thought. The portraits lining the walls nodded at him in acknowledgement though he did not accost them in return. He could see his reflection in the tiled floors thanks to Blaise's need to turn his home into the brightest, lightest place possible. It felt weird to call either their manors home. Because we're they really? Wasn't home where memories were made? Where love is shown and reciprocated? Where families grew stronger and closer? Where an actual family inhabited it? Draco found none of the above was the case for him. His manor was void of people expect himself and Drizzle. With his thoughts averted to drizzle, he wondered about her new borns and that he had to visit them soon. He also had to ask her opinion on Hermione. Drizzle was, after all, his most major confidant.

He heard Blaise's voice through the door leading to one of his guest room. What guests come round this early? Guests he opens would never greet him. Then an along whimsical voice followed. Luna. Honestly? At this point he didn't care if it was her. He couldn't keep everything in and he had to console both of them. Kinda. Pushing open the door, he began, "Blaise, Granger is still at mine, and our son is…", Draco stopped speaking as soon as his mind processed the sight in front of him. Blaise. Luna. Camera directed at the sofa meters in front of the doorway. No not that! It was interview conducted by Luna herself, presumably for her paper. Everyone was wide eyed for a moment.

"You can cut that right? Luna?", he asked. She shook her head almost remorsefully. Blaise, untouchable, unmovable, unwavering Blaise had his neck twisted his his direction and looked almost frazzled. A first for Mr Composure. Though, he guessed they were both alike in this specific circumstance.

"Mate", Blaise said after clearing his throat, "we're live". And Draco suddenly and spontaneously became lightheaded. How many people had seen his revelation? Had Hermione? Had, dare he think it, Scorpius?

Everyone was silent again. The silence suffocating Draco until he felt an anxiety like feeling creeping up his chest and worming its way to his throat.

"Draco", he knew Luna would be his saviour?, "take a seat", she gestured to the White, diamond encrusted sofa that Blaise currently occupied. She was situated on a seat not far from Blaise. Their close proximity spoke more than words could.

He wordlessly complied. His mind a jumble of incoherent thoughts and sentences that were stringing together. Though he has to be strong. He has to maintain his image. He had to uphold the façade he automatically wore daily.

"Luna", he greeted with a nod and then he did the same with Blaise. Then, finally, an idea struck. He knew it was unethical. Immoral. Yet, at that precise time, he hadn't a care.

'Should I ask about Hermione and their son?' Legilimency. He, hopefully, subtly nodded his consent and her eyes moved in a way to show her understanding.

Blaise hadn't missed the interaction and Draco could tell he knew what he'd done. Okay, he felt guilty. He knew he shouldn't penetrate the mind of other without consent. But still. He had to at that time.

"So, Draco, how is your son?", Luna asked.

Draco smiled. Inside he felt like crying in remorse. "He's wonderful", the beam intensified, "he's very much like me. In looks and personality. Though undoubtedly he has many of his mother's traits. I guess he's a spontaneous character.", he had no ideas where the words were coming from. A question raced across his mind, would the Weasel and Scarhead be watching? They were after all Luna's friends.

"Why were you kept apart?", she asked though it was evident she was obviously uncomfortable. He had to hand it to her, she could hide her discomfort well. Blaise squeezed her hand and smiled at her brighter than he'd ever remembered him smile in all the time he'd known him. Which was a long time. He hadn't even smiled like that when he swaggered into the Slytherins common room in 4th year, announcing he was the first to have lost his virginity. He was wrong of course. Draco had won that race by a few months but didn't say anything because he's never seen Blaise happier. It was a twisted type of happiness. Though his smile was more a smirk, that was the joyous he'd ever seen Blaise prior.

Draco scratched his chin with nimble fingers, willing a reasonable answer to work its way into his brain and spew out of his mouth. "We were not", he said and he didn't know why but as soon as it was out, the lie webbed itself into a perfect tale, "both his mother and I decided it would be better if we kept him out of the public eye for awhile, after all how good of a life would he have had being the son of an antecedent Death eater? We as parents believe it is a prosperous time for the wizarding community and that out son can hopefully continue the rest of his life adequately and become an aspirational wizard. It's all we'd dream for him.", and he smiled right at the camera, showing everyone he believed and lived by every word he said. But it was lies. All lies. How many more lies can be told? How many had been told in such a short space? The duration of Scorpius' life? The duration of his own life? Too many. And infinite amount. When will the lies end?

"Tell us about your son, Draco. The basics first, please", Luna giggled and Blaise just stared at her. Damn he was whipped.

"Well, he's called Scorpius, named after a constellation as it is a tradition passed down to generations of Black's. Who am I to mess with traditional?", he chuckled deeply.

Blaise said, "A Malfoy, that's who.", before also laughing.

"My name doesn't define me Blaise. My aim is to replenish the Malfoy name", why did he say what came next? Why? Why couldn't he be cautious? Why did he suddenly feel brash and brave and courageous?, "and in a step to do so, I am to wed Hermione Granger, the mother of my child", the pair obviously hadn't expected that. Though their composure remained intact.

"Where has Miss Granger been?", Luna asked and Draco was sure he spotted genuine curiosity in her sparkling eyes.

"She has been with our son. We agreed his well being was our highest priority but we needed income, hence the reason I remained with you all and graced you with my presence", he winked at Luna who laughed behind a hand.

"What does your mother think of the Union? Is she not wary of the ending of a long lineage of pure blooded wizards? And how come noting was mentioned to Harry Potter whom your mother is very close to?", Luna asked, unaware of the fact she's hit a raw wound. What would his mother think? Honestly he had no clue. He felt as if he didn't even know the women he thought to be his mother.

"She's ecstatic", lies, "she loves both Hermione and our son and is adamant for the marriage to take place as soon as possible. When my father, may he rest in peace, was alive, he and my mother both never missed a single birthday. They were and are extremely supportive. Blood means nothing, unless it's your own family. She is the most amazing person I know despite the purity or impurity of her blood. We as a family have left views on blood purity behind with the war. ", the couldn't believe he was saying these things, "and for secrecy of course. It's not a secret if everybody knows about it. My mother swore to not speak a word and I'm happy she obliged and stuck to her word", the lies were coming so naturally it was frightening. He was as bad as Lucius. That thought annoyed and stabbed at him repeatedly and profoundly. Yet the end hadn't been a lie. It was true. Which also frightened him. He had to leave. The earlier feeling of panic was returning to him. He had to run as far as he could.

"I'm ever so sorry, Luna, but I must leave you here. I am required else where." He was so fake. So many lies. So many falsities. Who was he really?

"Of course. Thank you so much for joining us so unexpectedly, Draco. It was a pleasure", and he nodded before standing and retreating out of the room through the second door behind the camera and he don't want to obstruct or divert attention from the couple on the sofa.

As he stepped out of the door way, his back hit the wall to the right and dragged himself down. What had he done?

-xXx-

When his feet touched the ground in his manor, a voice echoes to his ears. "Malfoy!", it was Hermione.

"I'm here", he shouted out. He was defeated. She was going to kill him. His life was going to end right then. How would she do it?

Her heels announced her arrival. He watched as she made her way toward him, void of emotions. As soon as she was I front of of him, slap, "Ow!", he exclaimed. "Granger, you have to work on your form. The punch in third year was profoundly bet-"

And she punched his left cheek. Hard. Harder than third year. Probably the hardest he'd ever been hit. And it was from a woman. It was from Granger.

"What. The fuck. Were you thinking!?", she shouted but before he could continue she did, " Everything you said was… Was… Absolute bollocks", she said.

"But good bollocks?", he asked and he caught her wrist before the impact.

"Not good bollocks!", she sounded frustrated… But then again Scorpius was still missing.

"How come you were watching Luna's broadcast anyway?", he asked, eyebrow quirked.

"I wanted to know about Luna and Blaise's relationship", she mumbled but at his dubious look she attempted to defend herself, "it was an exclusive! But that isn't the point. Do you know how many people watch Luna's broadcasts?", she asked.

"No. A lot?", he guessed.

"Hmm is 2 million a lot?", she asked, "you passed Arithmancy, I'm sure you can work it out." Her condescending tone grates on him, reminding him of her teen years.

"You also passes Arithmancy, how many hours have we got to find Scorpius today?", he face went slack and it looked like he'd slapped her in the face. Her eyes widened and a profound amount of guilt filled him. He wouldn't think about it. He didn't care. Kinda.

-xXx-

Nothing.

4pm and nothing. Hours went by and they were exhausted. Well, Draco was.

"Let me take you for a drink, Granger", he insisted, but she was giving him the cold shoulder. And truthfully he deserved it. They were walking down Diagon Ally as ideas of his whereabouts were running thin.

"Hermione?", both he and Hermione's head snapped to the voice. The body of the voice had a pale face, slack jaw and trimmed black hair. "Merlin, he wasn't lying. You're actually here. With Malfoy", he was gaping at the pair. Draco felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"Yes, she's with me Potter.", he said, almost protectively. Almost.

" this is unbelievable", his awe remained, "where have you been? You look so different. I've missed you so much Hermione", he said.

" I've been safe don't worry and you also look different. The short hair suits you. I've missed you so much too", she said with a hint of longing.

"Why didn't you visit then? Or say anything? Or write", he asked frantically

"I couldn't-"

Draco noticed something. A quill. In the air. Fuck that bitch.

"You get that Skeeter? You have nothing better to do than stalk me and my fiancé?", that was the first time he'd said that word. For appearance sake obviously. But it was a foreign word on his tongue but he still liked it. Harry also stared wordlessly. Rita however was smiling her wicked grin but before she could utter a word,

"Fiancé?", another voice sounded. Draco's looked behind him. Ron. His ginger hair had grown out and was in need of a good trim. Surely he could afford a haircut. Or maybe not. It was the Weasel.

"Yes, Ronald", Draco said, putting an arm around Hermione's tense shoulders. She was looking at him with wide eyes. He wounded to push her feelings down.

Ron just looked. And looked. And looked. "Hermione", he whispered, "how could you?",

Everyone was confused, even Rita who furrowed a brow. Draco looked at him straight on, "how could she what?", he asked, acutely aware of the fact Hermione was yet to utter a word to Ron.

"Become a Deatheater whore", he sneered. Hermione gasped. Harry gasped. Even Rita gasped.

"Ron?", she said, tears threatening to leave her eyes. Eyes that were filled with sadness instead of the usual fire and warmth. Draco didn't like coldness in her stare.

"It's true.", he said, to Rita's delight, "you abounded us. Everyone. For him. I had hope it was lies. But how can I fault my own eyes?", he curled his lip at Draco who was compressing the urge to punch him square in the nose. The look on Hermione's face, showed she'd rather punch somewhere else. Somewhere south. " Then you had his baby. A Deatheater baby whose father was too ashamed of it to even claim it for what? 9 years?", he was getting off of the pain he was inflicting on Hermione, the glint In his eye almost sadistic, "you had such high dreams. High aspirations. But you have them all up for a Deatheater. Shame on you.", he said.

Hermione was still. Looking almost vacant. Her silence was deafening. Rita looked eager for something. Anything. Harry looks apprehensive. Did he expect her to kick off? Did he even know her? She was too proud to do that. Instead she too the sophisticated route. "If you'll excuse us, we have drink to attend", and she linked her arm with Draco's and started in the opposite direction. "Don't say a word", she ground out and Draco promptly snapped his mouth shut. He wouldn't have dreamt of uttering a single syllable.

"Can we still have that drink?", she asked almost innocently. Her armour was thicker and harder than he thought. It seemed as if the words The Weasley has spewed had even penetrated it. How she remained this strong was beyond him. She was otherworldly. She was a goddess and was gracing him with her time. He supposed even goddesses have to sacrifice things.

"Of course", and they were gone.