A/N: *whimpers like a child* I hate myself! Here I serve my readers a lame apology for this belated update. I'm truly sorry for the time it took to get this chapter up.

Thank you so much to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have placed this fic on their favorite list.

Thank you: Anjali K, jnjluvsbooks32, arynwy, hkmac, Guest, Aya Diefair, kitcatscratch, Guest, Angelus Draco, ladybug45, Guest, and Guest for the reviews.

To Anjali K: No, I did not abandon ship. I merely got swamped with schoolwork. Even when I did have a free moment, I felt like I couldn't relax enough to write. Anyway, thank you for your reviews, and I imagine Hermione didn't want to marry into the Malfoy family because of Draco's parents. They did kind of help out with her torture and stuff and never really displayed any politeness towards her and her kind. As much as she loves Draco, he does kind of have scary parents.

To arynway: Thank you for the long review. You're right, the Death Eaters didn't mess with Hermione's parents. I'm actually kind of reviewing on what happened to them in this chapter. As for Hermione, she'll just have to hang tight for a bit. Things aren't looking wonderful.

I also got a comment on how there are too many flashbacks and it's making the story chunky and perhaps I should do a companion piece for them. I apologize for the first two, but I cannot do the latter. This story is 200,000 words long and has taken me over a year to get that far. Furthermore, I would like to remind my readers-if they need it-that the flashbacks are what makes this fic Dramione. No flashbacks, no Dramione. Not even Draco. It'd just be a dramatic story where Hermione is at odds with Lucius and Narcissa. There would be no romance and very few cute moments with Baby Alex. I don't know about you, but I would not read that story, even if there was a companion piece. Besides, I do my very best to connect the flashbacks to the present. I know it doesn't work sometimes, but for the most part, I get happy reviews about them. So...no I will not ever tear out the flashbacks and give them their own story. I almost feel insulted at the suggestion. Who has that kind of time?

Anyway, please enjoy chapter 48! Read and Review! (I'm sorry for any errors. I'll probably go back and do a clean-sweep eventually)

"I would have left you," she professed, her voice so quiet, she wondered if she said anything at all.

She would have, too. If she and Draco were in a similar situation, and he had purposefully put himself and their child in danger, nothing could make her stay. Love him, did she ever. But Alex would forever be her main priority, not her relationship with Draco.

His hands wrapped around her wrist to keep them in place, and he said, "I know."

Tracing the scarred gash above his chest plate, she barely made out the mare in the dimness of the room. After first seeing the healed over lacerations, she forbade Draco from Charming them invisible when he visited. She wanted to see them. He once told her she was the only one to have seen his imperfection aside from his healers. This meant no other woman, not even his mother, had shared this with him. It made her feel special and trusted, especially loved. Rarely, would he tell her he loved her, but she knew. She knew.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Did you get the Dark Mark exactly on your sixteenth birthday?"

"Yes," he stated and chuckled mirthlessly. "I remember waking up in my room, and Mother wasn't anywhere to be seen. Mippy arrived with my breakfast telling me she had been banished from the grounds for the morning by the Dark Lord which I found absurd. What kind of hospitable guest exiled the lady of her own house? Bloody fool, I was. The snake-arsed bastard was there in the Reception Hall waiting to give me my present. I should've denied him on principle for making my mother leave, but no, I was practically pissing in my Quidditch pajamas with excitement. It felt like a rite of passage, and it felt right that I should have one like my father.

"It was the first time I had ever seen him, the Dark Lord. He was hideous and his voice sounded pubescent, and I had a difficult time not laughing. I didn't want to offend him, so I bit my lips and bowed. He then asked for my left arm which I eagerly offered. The pain was excruciating, like my blood had turned to fire and was rushing out of my wrist. But soon enough it stopped, and the mark was there."

Crawling off of him, Hermione settled on his side and grabbed his hand. "How did you feel afterwards?"

"Willing, like I said earlier. The next day I was given the task to kill Dumbledore. Very soon after, the fantasy I conjured started to crumble. I did my best to stay proud, but it only worsened once school started. Aside from Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, my friends conveniently decided to throw themselves into schoolwork to keep away from me. At the time, I was bitter about it, but now I realize they simply didn't want anything to do with my choices and the baggage I was carrying. I should be so lucky I was able to rekindle most of my friendships after the war. Gregory, though," Draco sighed and cupped his forehead, messaging the deep, troubled creases, "he bolted after the Battle. He grabbed his mother and left for Greece and hasn't been back since. Didn't even return to claim his father's body."

A pang of pity struck Hermione's heart. By no means did she care about Gregory Goyle, but the boy did lose his best friend in a very horrible way, and she could relate to that by recalling all of her loved ones she lost in the war.

The memory of Vincent Crabbe throwing the Killing Curse flooded her mind. So soon after he fell into his own fire, and she could still remember the look of fear on his face when the flames enveloped him. The worst part had been the brief, waif, wretched scent of blood and meat tickling her nostrils when attempting to reach safety by climbing the discarded and broken furniture.

"I'm sorry."

"You did nothing wrong, and neither did he."

Hermione wasn't entirely convinced on that last part. Many of the former first year Hogwarts students from 1997 and 1998 would likely pipe up about how Crabbe and Goyle tortured them under the reign of Snape and the Carrows. Which brought up a question in her mind if Draco had participated in this action, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. If he said yes or indicated as such, she wouldn't be able to touch him ever again or maybe even love him anymore. For both of their sake, as well as Alex's, she refused to stray from the set of questions she planned out.

"Did you know that Voldemort would eventually return?" she asked. "Did your parents ever tell you that he might?"

"Mother didn't but Father hinted quite a bit starting in the summer before our second year of school." Sleepily, he grumbled, "That was an odd year, wasn't it? With what happened to you and the others."

"Every year was odd."

"Why do you reckon?"

Half-heartedly smiling, Hermione replied, "Because of Harry Potter of course."

"Blast him," the man whispered bitterly, and she could make out the slight pout on his lips. "You two never…"

"What?" she asked through a yawn and then softly huffed, shaking her head. "Don't be ridiculous. Harry was just a friend."

"But Weasley…"

"I'm supposed to be asking the questions, remember?"

"Yes, but I'd like to know-"

"When it's your turn, you can ask whatever you like."

Draco paused before answering. "I'll take you up on that. Now carry on with your questions. I'm about to pass out."

"Fine," Hermione clipped and mentally rifled through all the inquiries stored inside her head. "Your parents…they confuse me. They love you, and I assume they love each other. But when I first saw them together at the World Quidditch Cup before fourth year, they seemed so…plain. Their relationship, that is. How did they meet?"

"Meet?" She could hear the jollity in his voice. "Granger, they met in school, obviously."

"Right, but I doubt it was love at first sight when they were children. When did they start dating?"

"Dating?" Draco chuckled. "I believe they called it courting back then. Before me, a Malfoy had never dated, but I get what you mean. Anyway, they began a chaste relationship when my father was in his last year of Hogwarts. My mother was in sixth year, and I believe they both started their courtship out of convenience which developed into an attraction of sorts. When my grandparents were informed of the companionship, they conjured up a magical-binding betrothal post-haste. The four of them then began planning a wedding which would take place a week after my mother graduated from Hogwarts."

"So young," Hermione said and sighed. "I supposed I would have been, too, if I had married Ron. Continue."

"Weasley, the underserving sod!"

"Continue," she repeated, jabbing her finger into his side. "So your parents married fairly quickly."

"No, Mother and Father weren't terribly thrilled about what their parents did, so they collaborated in making them sweat. My parents decided to wait. They even separated for a little while." Her lover's voice grew somber and continued, "Like my grandparents, I think that was a horrible idea. My mother furthered her education, majoring in Charms and political science of all things. My father on the other hand found himself among the followers of the Dark Lord and…well…you know the rest. If you don't, I'm sure you can imagine.

"Three years later my grandparents were getting miffed on my mother's comfort in being single and my father's extra-curricular activities, not that they disagreed with his actions but worried he'd get caught and sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life without securing a pureblood heir. After some planning, Mother's parents allowed her to finish her four-year degree but with an ultimatum. If she didn't marry my father within a year after her graduation, her face would be blasted off the Black Family Tree."

Frowning at the bit of information. "That's awful."

The Black Family Tree emerged within her mind, solidly remembering how the fabulously painted branches stretched out over the entire room. The image of Narcissa appeared behind her eyes, and Hermione remembered the long blonde hair and the pinched expression on her pretty face.

"Father's inheritance was threatened. If he didn't marry my mother within the time limit given, he wouldn't see a galleon until my grandfather passed. I suppose I am lucky Mother and Father haven't given me the same treatment. As of now, they aren't terribly concerned about my lack of permanent companionship which I have the highest amount of gratitude for."

"I guess I am, as well" Hermione said and kissed his shoulder. His fingers sought her own in the dark, wrapping around the digits sweetly. She stretched her mouth against the side of his arm, so he could feel her pleased smile.

"So they married fairly quickly, and two-in-a-half years later I was born." Chuckling softly, Draco added, "Mother's healers called me a miracle baby. She had a series of miscarriages before I was born, and the healer deemed her barren before she found out she was pregnant with me."

"Which probably only added to your inevitable spoilt self. Honestly, though, I didn't necessarily picture your mum the type of woman wanting to further her single status nor her education. Don't get me wrong, but it seemed all the well-to-do pureblood girls back home were waiting for tall, rich, and handsome to come and make honest women out of them."

"I'd be lying if I claimed all that was inaccurate, but it's tradition as I'm sure you knew. It's fine when a woman of status wants to further her education but only appropriate if she has a ring on her finger. The traditional pureblood woman only studies after secondary school for two reason—recreation and teaching the children. As for my mother, though, she was testing the limits. I think she was confused. Andromeda ran off with a Muggle-Born and around that time had their odd-looking child."

"Don't say that about her. You didn't know her."

"Her hair changed colors. It was weird. Not to mention how she tossed out detention to the first-year Slytherins like they were bloody candy."

"I'm sure you deserved all of them. You were such a nasty brat."

"But I was adorable, and it was like no one but my parents saw that."

Breaking out into guffaws, Hermione smothered the sounds into Draco's arm. "Oh, darling, you were adorable, weren't you? I'm sorry I didn't see it before, but you were a pigheaded imbecile. Looking back now, though, I can distinctly see your face wasn't as pointy as I had once thought. You still had baby fat in your cheeks, and your eyes were big. Alex is going to look exactly like you. He is and will be adorable like his father," she chimed melodically, earning a snort from him. "What? You brought it up."

"There comes a point when Malfoys are no longer adorable and they become handsome, dashing, suave. I reached that stage a long time ago."

"When?"

"Like…thirteen."

Again, Hermione burst into a fit of howls and clutched his arm affectionately. "Thirteen? You were such smarmy git at thirteen. I couldn't stand you at all." She huffed and wrenched away from him, climbing out of bed and padding to the closet. Feeling Draco's eyes on her as she dropped her robe, she slipped a soft, fuzzy nightdress of a hanger and donned it, followed by a pair of practical knickers. If they continued talking of his younger years, she doubted lacy lingerie was needed.

"I wasn't that bad," he argued, dejection in his tone.

Half-smiling, she turned around to face him and shrugged. "You kind of were. Buckbeak, need I remind you?"

"Buckbeak? Are you talking about that mad hybrid that tried to tear me apart in third year?"

"The one that you insulted. And he was not a mad hybrid. He was a hippogriff, and you milked your injury so he'd get executed. You were foul, Malfoy." She crossed her arms and looked upon him pointedly, hinting her need for a bit of humility and regret from his part.

"Which was a mistake, I confess," he said, much to Hermione's surprise. "I shouldn't have exaggerated what that hideous, feathered-creature did to me. It caused all sorts of problems for the Slytherin Quidditch team that year."

"Oh, you…" she growled and gave him her most revolted expression. "That's what you regret? Not participating fully in Quidditch? Nothing else at all?"

"Blimey, Granger, it wasn't like the thing died anyway. He escaped with that Black lunatic or some rot. And it wasn't like I pressed for its death. All I did was tell my father. He did the rest. It's called parenting."

"Parenting?" she squeaked. "That's not parenting. That's asserting power."

Draco pushed himself into a sitting position and scratched the back of his neck languidly. "I see little difference."

"There is a big difference."

"No, there isn't. What would you have done if it had been Scorpius?"

"Alex is not going to be an arrogant little fart, stomping around and causing trouble for himself. What you did with Buckbeak was like a person purposefully cutting him or herself in front of a vampire and telling it not to go berserk"

"Yet, if it was Scorpius who did that, you'd still want that monster's head on a stick."

"No!...Yes! But it doesn't matter because our son is not going to be like that, so-"

"Doesn't matter what he is or isn't going to be like, Granger. I'm telling you what my father did is what any parent would have done. When a child is bitten by a neighbor's dog, what happens to it?"

Staring angrily at her toes, Hermione clenched her teeth together, hating the evident logic behind his argument. Refusing to return to his side right then, she started towards the door and heard and an annoyed, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to make some tea." She stalked out of the room and down the hallway. That conversation did not go at all as she wanted. She merely wanted to poke fun at his younger-self to which he was supposed to admit what a blasted, little wanker he had been and grovel at her feet with an apology and a kiss. But no, he had to puff up his chest and feel more remorse about a silly game than about a poor creature's life. The worst part of it all, though, she understood why Lucius petitioned for Buckbeak's death. Hermione frowned at that and flipped on the kitchen light, quickly retrieving the teakettle from the cupboard by the stove. After filling it with water and placing it on the burner, Draco joined her with a t-shirt, sweat pants, and slight hostility.

"It's cowardly walking away when an argument isn't in your favor," he accused.

"You would know all about cowardly wouldn't you, Malfoy," she retorted scathingly and then bit her tongue and scratched at a spot behind her ear. For Merlin's sake, they were acting like children, both bringing up an eleven year old event. Sighing, she turned away from the stove and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Let's accept our opinions are different, not only on parenting, but on everything else. I swear we fight every time you visit. Alex is going to start remembering things soon, and I don't want his earlier memories of us fighting."

Draco clearly had a few more words he wanted to let loose but tossed a dismissive hand. "Fine. You're right…about this, anyway."

Fighting the powerful urge to roll her eyes, she busied herself rummaging through the cupboards in search for her box of teabags and attempted to pick back up where their conversation ended before things turned sour. "So your parents married and taught you the importance of blood-purity. You…you took the Dark Mark when you were sixteen." Pausing, a question bloomed in her mind and timidly, she pulled the teabag-box out of the cupboard and set it on the counter. "I know you answered this question when you and your family were put on trial after the war, but why did Voldemort choose you for the Dark Mark and give you the assignment of killing Dumbledore?"

"Because he knew I'd fail. He wanted to make an example of my father and humiliate him for his failure in obtaining the prophecy. At the time I thought I was special, and the Dark Lord was giving our family a second chance at redeeming ourselves. Mother knew better and Father was still in prison. He knew better, as well, but still had the mundane hope I'd come out the successor in the end."

"Yes, but your father wasn't the only Death Eater who failed getting that prophecy. Why didn't Voldemort make an example of their offspring, too?"

"He may have been an imbecile, Granger, but he wasn't a complete idiot. Branding a bunch of hormone-driven sixteen year olds and sending them back to school would have been ridiculous. He chose me because my father was over the raid. The others were at the Department of Mysteries simply scare tactics. The Dark Lord knew when Potter arrived he wouldn't be alone." Draco then glared at her. "And he wasn't, the blind fool."

"Harry wasn't-"

"Don't defend that stupid fluff-head. He nearly got you killed, Hermione!"

"Draco-"

"And I doubt it was even the first time! Bloody hell, it wasn't even the last!"

"Draco!"

"If you defend him-"

"It was my decision to go to the Department of Mysteries and to be with him while in hiding. I knew I could get hurt, but I didn't care because I wasn't going to let Harry go by himself."

"He wasn't by himself. He had his merry band of troublemakers with him and that freckled git!"

"This entire conversation is absurd. There's no use in arguing about something that happened years ago, but you want the truth, then fine. I got hurt in the Department of Mysteries. Yes, I nearly died. Yes, I got hurt while going into hiding with him. But the worst of my injuries I got came from your family in your house. Now tell me, Draco, whose fault was that because it certainly wasn't Harry's."

"If you hadn't been with him…" His words tapered off as if he needed to gather his bearings. His hands stretched and curled into fists and he said, "There was nothing I could have done when you were brought to the manor. All I did was," he looked away from her in shame, "lie and say I wasn't sure he was Potter. Load of good that did, anyhow."

Snatching two bags of tea from the box, she threw them on the counter and said softly, "I'm not blaming you for what happened. What you tried to do, lamely or not, was brave. I just want you to realize that whatever I did and whatever Harry did was all by choice. I knew when I chose to not go into hiding during our seventh year I could very well die. Harry didn't even fancy the idea of me coming with him, but he couldn't have done all what he did without my help. He needed support, Draco. When we were in the tent together-"

"What?!"

Blushing at her choice of words, Hermione shook her head and held up her hands as her lover stalked towards her intently. He grabbed her surrendering hands and repeated in a hiss, "What?"

"Nothing happened but Harry, Ron, and I spent a lot of time together before the Battle. We were in hiding. We had to be with everything going on and people dying," she explained wrapped her fingers around his. "We were friends, Harry and I. As for Ron, that's another story, but your jealousy is belated, love," she crooned and stepped forward, tilting her head back to gaze up at him attentively. She let go of his hands and encircled his waist with her arms, resting her head on his chest, aware of how intimate acts of affection soothed his temper and eased his doubts. Beneath her ear, the rapid thumps of his heart slowed to a normal pace.

"I still have more questions," she murmured and Draco heaved.

"Let me ask a question this time," he said. "Please?"

"What do you want to know? Where my parents are?"

"Well, yes, but I'll ask this first." He pulled away from her and looked her in the eye. "The weekend Scorpius was conceived and when I snatched you from Pansy's reception, you hardly put up fight against my proposition. Not at all like the girl I knew from Hogwarts. What happened after Hogwarts with Weasley? Were there others besides him?"

"Others?" The teakettle whistled and she jumped, leaping towards the stove to put the appliance off the heat. Fumbling, she nicked two mugs out of the cupboard, ripped the tea packets open, settled them at the bottom of the cups, and poured the hot water over them. "You like lemon, right? I chose that one because I knew you liked it." Breathlessly, she handed him the steaming mug and then started blowing cool puffs of breath on her own. "I've been partial to peppermint as of late."

He groaned and set the mug down on the neighboring counter, "You're attempt at distracting me away from an answer is pitiful. It's a simple question."

"No." She shook her head and turned away from him. "It's not. You don't want to know about me after Hogwarts or the others. There's a reason I don't ask about your others. We should accept we are each other's now and not dwell on anyone who came before."

"Bullocks to that," he snorted. "I asked you a question, so you answer. I told you about my ruddy life. The least you could do is-"

"You won't like it," Hermione interjected, memories of what happened after Ron and before Alex running madly through her mind. Internally wincing, she imagined Draco's face coloring a deeper hue with each boy she named off, especially the last one. Her eyes fluttered shut and she suppressed a shudder at the solid memory of Dmitri Vanko, also known as Anton Dolohov's son. Restraining from gagging at the stupidity she allowed herself years previously, she exhaled sharply and shook her head. "No, you won't like it at all."

"Naturally," he sniffed and brushed off some invisible lint from his t-shirt, "but I'm prepared to listen."

Placing a reluctant sulk on her face, she moaned, "Everything I tell you will only upset you. We've had enough disputes for one evening. Let's just get back to you. I promise I won't let things escalate into a fight. No matter what you tell me."

"Tempting but I'd prefer to hear about you for a little while."

"Then ask something else. I'm not ready to tell you about that."

"Hermione."

"No."

"Tell me."

"Another time, perhaps."

"What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," she replied weakly and then pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "All right, that's a lie, but I don't want you to get angry or jealous or…vengeful. If you can promise you won't judge me or hate me or try to find these others, I will explain. Understood?"

Wrenching her hands away from her face, she witnessed the deep, unsure frown lines at the corners of his mouth and the inquiring, slit eyes already peering disparagingly at her. She scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind then."

"Maybe I'm not ready. Answer me this, though. Why did your engagement with Weasley end? Did you finally wake up and realize what an utter ponce he was?"

"No!" she gasped and then relaxed, pinning Draco with a somber expression. "I woke up and realized I wasn't the girl he fell in love with, and I couldn't go through with the wedding because it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I gave him back the engagement ring and left."

"And this was in 1999."

"Summer of. I went to Australia after that. I didn't stay long. Only for a few days." Uncomfortably, she sipped her tea, a feeling of disappointment washing over her when the hot beverage did little in calming her.

"What was in Australia?"

"My parents." She set the cup aside and caught the surprised look Draco gave her. "I sent them there before I officially went into hiding. I made them forget me and cast a spell urging them to go to Australia. After the Battle, I didn't go find them. Instead, I returned to finish my studies at Hogwarts. I missed them, but I wasn't ready to find them so soon after. I was frightened they'd be angry with me, even hate me for what I did. Not just erasing me from their memories but for risking my life for something they didn't understand. When I ended things with Ron, I put aside that fear and went to Australia to find them. It was relatively easy. I had put a Tracking Charm on them before sending them away. Upon finding them; however, I discovered they both moved on and didn't need me anymore."

Hermione clenched the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb, withholding the tears and runny nose that was sure to befall her if she didn't hold her emotions in check. She refused to cry in front of Draco about this. He wouldn't understand. His parents, despite being incredibly monstrous people, loved each other and loved him. How could she explain to him what she found in Australia?

"I'm sure that's not true," Draco encouraged and she chuckled sadly, shaking her head.

"They weren't together anymore. They," she sighed and folded her arms, "divorced not long after they arrived in Sydney. My father quickly remarried, and when I saw him, he was escorting his wife into the hospital. She was having a baby. My mother, though, she was getting married. It would have been disastrous if I lifted the Memory Charm, so from afar I made it permanent and left."

Draco's fingers found her chin, urging her to lift her gaze. Reluctantly, she obliged and he said, "Perhaps if you returned their memories, they would have-"

"What? Loved each other again?" Hermione smiled painfully and never pegged Draco for being a naïve romantic. "Children don't make parents love each other."

"It's why you love me, isn't it?" Draco confidently said. "I'm no fool. I know the primary reason you let me hang around is because of Scorpius."

"That's not entirely true," she gently remarked and set her palm against his chest, rubbing it gently. "And you know it. You know how I feel about you."

"I know how you feel about me because of our son. If he hadn't come around, then-"

"You're right." Hermione nodded and stepped away from him. "We wouldn't have gotten together. I would've never contacted you, and you would have never contacted me after our weekend. I'm not foolish either, Draco. It may not be the main reason or the only, but I'm aware some of the feelings you have for me are because of Alex. He is the reason you keep coming back. If this was merely a long-distance relationship without a child involved, I perceive you wouldn't be tolerant of my blatant and repetitive rejections to your marriage proposals. You would've moved on. It's in your nature."

"My nature?" the man balked. "You insult me. We've known each other since we were children, and you display ignorance. You know I don't move on from anything. I nitpick and stew about everything. I throw tantrums when I don't get my way and concoct plots and projects in ensuring my goals are met. I don't move on."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about the nature of men-the nature of people, not about your obsessive tendencies."

"Which you adore, may I remind you. Never mind that. Where were we? Oh, yes, your parents who you completely abandoned."

"It was for the best. If I had lifted the spell, it would have destroyed the new lives they built in Australia. They were happy without each other…and me. I miss them," she admitted and tugged on the string of her tea packet, "but I can live without them."

Draco was polite enough to let her finish her tea before asking another question. When her mug was drained, he set aside his half-empty beverage and asked, "Where did you go afterwards? You didn't go to England, so where were you?"

Facing the sink with her back towards him, she rinsed out her mug and stated quietly, "Bulgaria."

"You've got to be bloody kidding me. Krum? Really? You went to him?"

"All right, I'm done talking. This was supposed to be about you first, and my questions weren't done. You now know where my parents are, so we can return to you." Drying the mug with a cloth, she turned towards Draco, looking him straight in the eye and letting him know she was done talking about herself for the time being.

His face was pinched and reddened as if he swallowed something sour and scalding. Hermione placed her hands on her hips and shrugged. "I won't deny Viktor, but I am going to ask you another question. Where did you go after Hogwarts? You didn't return for the repeated year."

Draco's already slightly hostile demeanor worsened but for a different reason. Eyes narrowed, he snapped, "I wasn't invited and even if I had been, I wouldn't have gone. Didn't fancy being smothered in the night by a fellow student. No, my parents strapped a portkey on me the moment Potter's testimony cleared me of all charges. Mum sent me to France to live in one of our estates until she and Father finished up their business with the Wizengamot. I was there for about a year"

"Oh," Hermione noted softly and nibbled on her bottom lip, her mind wandering and creating images of what he did to keep himself busy. She knew what she did to keep herself occupied in France and tried to repress the feeling of irrational jealousy bubbling up inside her gut "What did you do there?"

"Honestly?" He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled deeply. "Nothing but read for the most part. Perfected my French, learned the art of becoming an entrepreneur. With my father returning to work and the war ending, it was expected I prepare myself for the grand life of portkeys, hotel rooms, and foreign countries housing the rich and elite."

"Wow. Sounds positively dreadful, Draco. However do you survive?" she sarcastically commented, a bit envious of his travelling and the sights he must have seen. True, she had done a bit of travelling before Alex but nothing akin to Draco. She hadn't gone to Moscow for one week and fetched a portkey to Milan for the next.

"Don't condescend. The luxury wears off vastly. I hardly get to see my parents. Even more irritating is that I hardly get to see you and Scorpius. If somehow you rid yourself of that blasted stubborn streak and marry me like a good little girlfriend and come back to England with me…"

"Draco," she warned.

"Do you have any idea how happy that would make me, Granger," he told her in a low voice, reaching forward to cup her face. His thumbs gently caressed the skin underneath her bottom lashed and the freckles on the sides of her nose. He leaned down and grazed her hairline with his lips before tilting her head backwards to brush a soft kiss at the delicate tip of her nose, triggering a rush of butterflies to erupt inside her belly. Licking her dry lips, she wheezed, "Stop trying-"

He cut her off with a manipulative, "I'm thoroughly elated when I'm here. When I'm with you, I want to make you feel the way I feel. I want to give you everything. I want to give you a home—a real home. I want to give you my name. I want to give you more children someday. I want…" He stopped like his words were hurting him like they were her. His eyelids fluttered close as he pressed their noses together intimately. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she could only imagine the kind of inner battle her lover must be having. This was so unlike him to admit such things, and it frightened her.

"I want us to grow old together," he finished.

Unable to withhold it, Hermione let out a sob and attempted to pull out of his hold. This proposal was different from the others. Blowing this one off with a silly retort, a kiss, or sexual favors were not going to distract him. Despite that, she fancied the idea of whispering naughty promises in his ear and luring him back to the bedroom where she'd fulfil those promises. Her hands drifted from his sides to rest on the low-slung band of his night-trousers. Pointedly, she slipped her thumbs beneath and felt the temptingly warm skin underneath and moved the digits in messaging circles.

"No again, I presume," he muttered bitterly and stepped away, her hands slipping out of his pants. "I'm going to bed. I have a seven o' clock portkey. If you have any more questions, you can Owl me or wait until Christmas."

"Draco, wait," she called after him which went ignored as he left her in the kitchen. Sighing wretchedly, she brought three fingers to the middle of her forehead and rubbed violently, the weeping having given her a headache. After downing a capful of All Purpose Pain Relief Potion, she padded towards the bedroom and stopped and stared at the half-open door, catching a glimpse of Draco on his side, his back towards her. She didn't know if he was asleep yet and didn't take kindly to the idea of finding out and bearing the awkward but resentful silence radiating from him.

Instead of snuggling under the covers next to him, she tiptoed into the nursery and checked on Alex, her precious son lying peacefully on his back with his little feet poking out at the end of the blanket. Carefully, she covered them before bending down to give him a soft peck on his temple. He was sleeping better than he had since the beginning of the month when she took his pacifier away. His sobs of desperation and for comfort had clawed at her chest, persuading her that she was the worst mother ever, but the parenting books and the pedia-healer assured her that it was necessary.

Which reminded her…

Hermione plonked down on the rocking chair neighboring Alex's crib and remembered she needed to pick up those Halloween photographs from Kimberly. The woman assured her that Alex's pictures came out adorably, and he looked positively edible in his pumpkin costume and matching binky.

Mentally making a to-do list for the following day, Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, her list morphing into thoughts about Draco and how long they'd have until one of them broke.

A peeved cry jerked Hermione awake initiating an unattractive snoring sound to escape her lips as her head snapped up and hit the unpadded support of the wooden chair behind her skull. "Ow," she groaned through a yawn and messaged the tender spot.

Blinking her eyes awake, she glared at the stream of light pouring through the curtains, the rays reflecting off the icy dew and worsening the morning brightness. She then turned her attention to Alex who stood in his crib, his blond curls in disarray with grey eyes wide and glistening with begrudging alertness.

His pajama bottoms and diaper were mysteriously not on his lower half, as well.

"Hey, you," she cooed and slowly stood up from the rocking chair, a sharp crick in her neck and a throbbing pounding in the middle part of her spine keeping her from rushing to her him. Once she got to him, she investigated the missing items and found them stuffed into the bottom right-hand corner underneath the foam pad. Along with that, she found two damp spots, one a fairly recent puddle.

Playfully clucking her tongue, she hoisted him out of the crib. "Let's go talk to Daddy. It may be time to mention potty-training," she said and placed him on the changing table. Once a new diaper was fastened, she carried him to her bedroom and frowned at the empty rumpled bed greeting them.

"Draco," she called and shuffled to the loo only to find it empty. She called his name again, this time down the hallway, wondering if he was in the kitchen. Silence answered her. Checking the clock on the nightstand next to her bed, she deflated when seeing it was after nine. A deep sensation of hurt struck her when realizing Draco left without saying goodbye.

Tears stung her eyes and skewed her vision. Sniffling, she abstained from letting any of those threatening droplets fall and chose to buck up and start her errands for the day. Firstly, she made breakfast for Alex and then bathed him. After dressing him, she readied herself for an appointment she had at eleven o' clock.

A week passed before she conjured up the courage of Owling Draco. The letter was simple, and even though she wanted to ream him for leaving without a polite farewell to their son, she merely spoke of Alex's new words, her job, and the weather. She also sent him a photograph of their boy in his Halloween costume and anticipated a response within a few days. However, several days went by with Hermione staring at the calendar. The owl she used from the Post had returned, so someone had gotten that letter. Again, she wrote Draco a letter and this time asked why he hadn't said goodbye to Alex.

Hermione wrote another letter only one more time before becoming frustrated and truly wounded from Draco's obvious ignorance. She had half a mind to send a Howler at him and tell him he wasn't welcome at Christmas but couldn't do that to Alex. She even debated sending an apology for trying to seduce him when clearly he wanted something more than sex, but she worried he'd take it as a yes to his marriage proposal.

To take her mind off of Draco and the notion how the upcoming Christmas could very well be their last one together as a couple, she busied herself by looking into good daycare units so she could co-host more cosmetic parties throughout the day. After the Thanksgiving holiday, she reached the level of a superior and was rewarded an all-paid two-week vacation to Kauai, Hawaii from the District Representative at their weekly meeting in Sarah's Inn.

"You need a tan, Hermione," Ms. Eleanor Trinket alleged good-naturedly while shaking Hermione's hand as their fellow saleswomen clapped. The women then handed her two envelopes. "One for you and the other for that delectable little boy of yours. Be sure to bathe him in sunblock. I imagine he won't take to the sun like you might."

"Thank you, Ms. Trinket," Hermione beamed and accepted the envelopes. "You have no idea how badly I need this vacation. I'm assuming I leave soon."

"Christmas Eve."

"Oh." The younger witch hoped her demeanor hadn't shifted. "That's…That's so great! I can't wait."

Present Day

Mindful as to not stir Alex, Hermione slipped out of the covers and donned a night-robe. Checking her watch, she saw that it was four in the morning and prayed neither of Draco's parents were awake or suffered from insomnia. Mutely, she wandered the hallways to the main staircase and descended to the main level, hastily making her way to Lucius' den. Breathing in an encouraging breath, she pressed her ear to one of the wooden doors before entering.

The hearth's embers glowed dimly, providing very little light for the spacious room and for Draco's portrait. Hermione could only decipher the bottom half of him. Pointing her wand at the dying flames, she reignited the fireplace and awakened her late lover from his artificial slumber. He smirked at her in polite greeting and gave her a nod. "You came."

"Of course I came." She clasped her hands together and walked towards him, stopping when feeling the warmth on her legs from the fire. She gazed up at him and added, "I always come."

"That you do."

With an emotionally-stricken voice, she questioned, "You wanted to speak with me? What about?"

"So many things. If only…if only we had the rest of eternity, but I imagine we have an hour, not even two. What time does your portkey leave?"

"I plan to fetch one for 7:30 when it's still night in Salem."

Draco nodded and shifted behind his frames, his hand coming up to tap two fingers on his chin pensively. "I am so relieved you are well, Hermione. I worried when I got news of your incident. You're healing from the repercussions, yes?"

"Yes."

"That's good. That's very good."

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No." He shook his head. "I wanted to speak of Eliza."

Hermione stole a step backwards as horrible memories consumed her. Clenching her fists, she growled, "Not that. I refuse. You know better than to try that with me."

"You would deny me even in death of what I deserve to know. I was her father."

"It goes beyond that, Draco. It always was."

"Then lead me there. I still don't know everything. I only know what Solicitor Chan briefed me on. I imagine the story was discussed thoroughly in court, but you purposefully misinformed me on the dates. Why didn't you want me there? I need to know, Hermione."

Swiping at a rebelling tear, she scoffed and squeezed her eyes shut, her mind battling on what to do. A large part of her wanted to sprint out of the room and leave behind the damage losing their daughter had caused. She'd be in Salem soon, and Draco's portrait would be here. No one would ever bring her up again. No one would bother her about it. It'd be all in the past where it belonged

"Because you draw too much attention to yourself," she croaked and stumbled to the sofa, letting it catch her fall. She curled up on the cushion in a huddle, shielding herself as much as she could from Draco's gaze. "Someone would have recognized you. It's the same reason I put down Granger on Alex's name when I enrolled him in school. Someone would have recognized the name eventually just like someone would have recognized you if you showed up in court. It would have caused a scandal I couldn't even fathom to bear."

"Is that why you pushed me away?" he asked after a long pause.

"A part of it, yes."

"What are the other reasons?"

Hugging her knees like a child, she rested her chin on them and laid her focus on the fire. The flames were so much safer than Draco's icy, aggrieved eyes.

"I've told you, Draco. I was angry and fed up about your absence for everything. I hated only seeing you a few times a year. It wasn't fair to me, and it wasn't fair to Alex. He deserved to see you more. How is it that you never had more time to spend with us? Why couldn't you stay?" Her chest stuttered at the latter question, self-loathing for what she had yearned to ask him for years but never had the humility.

"You never asked me," he replied weakly, "but my home was here. It's England, Granger. It's where I belong. It's where you belong and where Scorpius belongs. Everything I left for him and my father will leave for him is here. Where he resides, you need to be."

"This is not home, Draco. At least not mine. Home is away from here. It's in Salem. I understand Alex will have to come back here, but he's going to be fine without me. He'll be a man by then. He won't need me anymore."

Draco clearly wanted to dispute that topic but cinched his mouth shut and tossed her an irritated glower. "So you were upset I wasn't around for Scorpius, your feelings of this escalated after losing Eliza. Because I wasn't there.

"Yes," she agreed quietly.

"It's not right to completely blame my absence. I had no idea. If I had known, I would have been there from the beginning. I wanted her more than words can even describe."

Chuckling mirthlessly, Hermione recalled what she saw in his pensieve a month prior. "I know but, Draco, you have no idea how frightening it was for me and for Alex. He was right outside the door, and I couldn't even tell him to call for help because I was in so much pain. He had to hear me scream for so long before he even thought to run to the neighbor's."

"Were you really trying to surprise me with the pregnancy?" asked Draco earnestly.

Shakily, she said, "Yes, I was. I knew it would make you so happy and while pregnant, I did think about marriage. Not in-depth, but I wondered if it might be a good idea. If putting up with your parents would be worth it all and…none of it mattered because I lost her. And I knew days before it happened that something was wrong. I hadn't felt her move, but I refused to think the worse. It's my fault. No matter how much I want to blame that blasted apothecary or even you, I'm really the one at fault, aren't I? I was foolishly oblivious by ignoring my body. My potion tasted different and made me sick. I should've-"

"Losing Eliza was not your fault, and I don't want you to ever think that again. Ever, you understand? Those idiots took her away and did irreparable damage to you, me, and Scorpius. We made them pay, didn't we?"

Numbly, Hermione bobbed, her stomach feeling nauseas and her mind cloudy. The crying was taking its toll on her body. Lethargically, she rubbed at her eyes and sniffed. "I sometimes wish we tried again. I'm sorry I never let you properly discuss it with me. I'm so sorry for everything."

Draco's painted shoulder's sagged. "Hermione, about Astoria…"

"You don't need to explain. I know you cared about her, even loved her," she said. "I'm not angry that you moved on. Not anymore. I felt jealous, naturally, but I think maybe she could have been it for you."

"You were it for me, Granger. Astoria was," he paused thoughtfully and then continued, "special. And I won't lie; I did love her and I appreciated her very much. I imagined myself content with her, and this leads me to another thing I want to talk with you about."

Her ears burned a bit after hearing Draco admit his feelings for Astoria yet managed to grumble out a, "What?"

"Some day when you're ready to be happy, I want you find what I found with Astoria. Something even better, perhaps, and it pains me to say any of this. I hate thinking about you with someone besides me, but what's even worse is imaging you alone and without-"

"Stop!" Hermione covered her ears and leapt to her feet. "Stop it! I could never! I couldn't! Not after..."

"I want you to allow in the happiness you always denied yourself. Hermione, listen!"

"No!" she sobbed and clutched her ears. "I love you! I can't...I could never love anyone else. Please, please stop talking. Please don't wish this for me!"

Sticking her head between her legs to fight off the urge to vomit, Hermione angrily wept, appalled that Draco would even mention the ridiculous idea that she could ever love any other man even in the slightest amount. Finding what he found with Astoria was impossible for her. No man would ever come close or compare. He was her person in every way, and she despised herself for taking so long to understand. Even at the beginning of their relationship, she assumed Draco would eventually find love somewhere else but never considered the option for herself. She never pictured her and Alex moving on and never fantasized of marrying any other man or growing old with someone

The reality set in fully. The horrible and indescribable solidity of Draco's death sunk in, filling up the hallow spaces inside her bodily cavities and in her bones. There was no future with them together. Of any kind. The holiday visits ended and so had her family, and in a way, her life. It was fitting she died in the river. Almost symbolic.

Her voice liquid-y yet raspy, she said, "You were my happiness, Draco. Whether I wanted it or not."

To be continued...

A/N: Draco still has more to say, so stick around for the next one! :)