Thanks so much everyone! To all my longtime reviewers and all the new ones. I'm always humbled. Here's more. I must apologize as my updates will be a bit slower now; it's rather busy here. This is all about Dramione so I hope you enjoy!

LCailan

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Draco stared at Hermione with disbelief.

"You want me to stay?"

She shut her eyes tightly and took a deep, shaking breath.

"Yes."

Her word was a whisper.

"Yes, I know it's not right but I can't…you can't go."

She had already lost him once and she couldn't – wouldn't – let it happen again. Squeezing his hand once more she swallowed.

"I want you to stay."

There was a pause and Draco hesitated.

"Hermione, you don't know what you're asking."

"I do," she rushed forward. "I know it wrong and it makes no sense but when has anything about you and I made sense?"

He pulled away from her as he shook his head.

"They're after me. Surely you know about the hunters, those that Zabini has-"

Yes, she had known. The growing hatred had spawned groups of concerned citizens who would go out and try and smoke out the remaining Death Eaters and bring them to justice. But justice was no longer fair and concern no longer existed.

Hermione's heart began to beat faster at the idea of walking away from the house and leaving Draco behind to face an uncertain fate.

"Draco, you've tried to help our side! Does that not count for something?"

Her eyes searched his but Hermione couldn't quite get Draco to meet her intense gaze.

"You protected me and you helped me escape! Once the Ministry hears that it won't matter that you have the Mark! It just won't!"

Draco shook his head and a sound escaped him, though Hermione couldn't tell if it was a moan or a chuckle.

"Oh, Hermione, you don't understand…you haven't seen…"

She yanked on his arm.

"Don't tell me what I haven't and haven't seen, Draco Malfoy!" she hissed with menace. "I've been through hell and back!"

"If you had seen the way that Zabini just…turned on us, you wouldn't be spouting the foolishness you are! You do not understand! They still see me as a Death Eater! My fate was decided the moment Zabini took over the Alliance! I wasn't there with him and…well, out of sight, out of mind, yes?"

Hermione stepped back, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that time and circumstance put Zabini and I where we were. He's a former Death Eater turned Alliance war hero and I was too late to join him and so now I am the enemy."

"But you never supported Voldemort! You weren't the only one; there were dozens of others who felt the way you did!"

"And many of them have perished. Our allegiance didn't matter anymore. The things we did were for naught."

He hung his head.

"Where you saw a man who helped save your life, they will see a Death Eater Official who took advantage of a poor Muggle-born girl who had no other choice and used her as his very own whore."

Hermione paled, growing indignant.

"It wasn't like that," she whispered in horror. "I wanted to; it was an agreement and they can't use that against you!"

"They can and they will. They will use anything to vilify us and I suppose in many ways I can't blame them."

Hermione shook her head overwhelmed at the hopelessness of the situation. She wasn't sure how much time had passed before Draco spoke again.

"I've escaped from a Death Eater prison camp in Wales, Hermione. I was captured once already and I don't relish going through it again."

"You were captured?"

"The Welsh Ministry supports Blaise wholeheartedly. They were one of the first to put up roadblocks for those of us who fled after the final battle. They captured me, tortured me for hours without end trying to get information I didn't even bloody have! They thought I was traveling with more of them, but I was alone."

He had hung his head in misery.

"They'll torture you and question you until they have what they need or you become useless to them and then…"

The silence was so heavy and implied things Hermione couldn't bear to think about. Reaching out, she clutched his icy hand.

"So what happens now?" she whispered, attempting to hide the horror she felt. "What do you do? Keep on running? Do I pretend like you never walked back into my life?"

Her words were contemptuous.

Draco yanked his hand away.

"I haven't walked back into your life, Hermione! You have a new life and I don't have a place in it!"

She watched as he half walked, half stumbled up the steps to the first level of the house and she followed, unwilling to allow him out of her sight. She had already lost him once.

"Draco!"

He turned to face her.

In the light of the sun that was streaming through the windows of the kitchen he looked even worse. His gaunt face was too white and shaded with the purplish sign of bruises. There were scars fading along his neck and jaw that his silvery beard could not hide and his eyes were deadened and sunk deep into his face.

Hermione was temporarily speechless at seeing him once again even in such a state, but her heart could not deny that he was still beautiful – the same terrible, beautiful man she had fallen in love with so many years before.

Draco sighed with resignation.

"Yes, we go our separate ways," he whispered. "I continue on my way because it is harder to hit a moving target. And you go back to your life and your…"

Hermione stood watching Draco, a desolate expression on her face. He turned from her, his jaw clenching.

"I know it's my fault," he muttered. "But I loathe the idea that you're married."

"And whose fault is that?"

Hermione's voice was strained from withholding anger.

"You're right, it's bloody mine! Now piss off, why don't you?" he fired at her, a world of pain swimming in the deep recesses of his gray eyes.

For one horrific moment they stood there like that before Draco dropped his head, a strangled sound escaping him as he turned away from her.

Hermione stared helplessly at the back of Draco's bowed head. Though she had been content for months, though she knew she loved Neville, suddenly the wedding ring on her left hand seemed the most hateful thing in the world. Her mind began whirling with impossible, irrational thoughts; she knew she wasn't supposed to have them.

The gold band burned against her flesh, reminding her of a promise she wasn't sure she wanted to keep any longer. That same irrational part of her brain hated what she had done, hated her life, and hated everything.

The feeling passed, leaving Hermione cold. But she wasn't confused about Draco's behavior; she understood the dark frustration that had twisted his face as he had lashed out at her. She understood it because she knew how it felt.

She called out to him, though her voice was weak.

"Draco…"

"No, don't. I'm bloody horrid, I know," he rasped. "Trying to make you feel like you did something wrong when you've done nothing more than what I asked you do. You're happy."

She remained silent, waiting for him to continue, certain there was something else he would say.

But there was only the same tense silence.

"He's a good man."

Her whisper was weak.

"He loves me and he treats me well. He takes good care of me and-"

Leo.

Hermione's heart jumped to her throat making her next breeze wheezy. How could she tell him? Could she even imagine telling Leo how he came to be? Could she risk her own son's life because of what his father had once been?

She felt terribly torn.

Draco deserves to know, doesn't he? He's lost too much already and two children! How could I deny him the one that lives, breathes and is happy?

Hermione wrung her hands, her breaths coming shallowly.

But…Neville is Leo's father too, isn't he? Neville's raised him from birth and I can't do that to Leo!

She made her decision in one breath, without thinking of the consequences.

Heart pounding, Hermione moved to the bag she had abandoned near the door to the root cellar and plucked it up, rummaging around it to the bottom where she clutched the desired object with trembling fingers. Then she moved towards Draco, holding it out.

"Draco."

"Leave me, Hermione."

His voice was strained and he did not move to look at her, standing in the same, still pose, facing the windows. She reached to touch his arm but he jerked away, causing Hermione to ache just a bit at his rebuff.

"Look," she whispered with growing insistence and this time she tried to pass the small photograph from her hand to his. "Look."

For a moment he refused but then she released a breath as she saw his long, pale fingers take the picture from her. His eyes shifted down to look at it.

The photograph had been taken shortly before Neville's departure to join the Alliance, around the time Leo had turned three. The little curly-haired boy sat on Neville's lap, grinning and waving. Neville was smiling bashfully, his cheeks pink and thick, dark hair messy from his attempts at running after Leo.

Hermione felt a flash of guilt when she saw Draco wince and regretted the decision to show him a photograph of the other man in her life. He didn't need the added pain, did he? But it was too late and Draco was staring down at the photograph with wide, feverish eyes, his pale jaw set with tension.

"Y-you have a son," he breathed.

The sound wasn't altogether harsh, but she sensed a bitter, hard edge to his voice, as if he was trying to hold back…what? She didn't know; Draco was a closed book and would not let anyone read him.

Gently, Hermione's palm came up to cup Draco's thin, bearded cheek. He was warm…so, so warm.

"Yes," she whispered, willing those stormy gray eyes to gaze into her own.

She was pleading with him in silence, praying that he might understand and needing him to look at her as she told him.

Finally, their eyes met.

"Yes…my son," she said again, her throat raw with emotion. Her eyes burned for a moment before sparkling tears welled up within them.

"Our son, Draco. Our son."

The moment of Draco's realization seemed to last forever and Hermione held her breath. She was lost in the depths of his eyes as she had been so many times before. What she found there was timeless and her heart wept at the knowledge that she could not lose herself in him the way she desperately wanted. Nothing had changed, she knew now. Why had time and circumstance not changed their feelings? Why had fate been so cruel? Why had she not waited? There were more questions than there ever would be answers.

Draco's lip twitched slightly and Hermione saw his jaw tremble as his silver eyes began to search her face with growing agitation and panic. He shoved the photograph back into her waiting hands with disgust.

"Don't jest," he spat and then moved towards the windows, his hand clenched tightly together. He may have looked outwardly angry but Hermione could see his eyes and they told a very different story.

"Draco," she said again, her voice soft and sad.

Without thinking she moved to offer her touch.

"I would never lie to you," she said patiently, her eyes boring into his with unadulterated honesty. "Leo is your son."

There was a long, hard silence.

Draco's initial reaction was to push Hermione away, out of the room, out of the house and out of his life. There was no semblance of peace for him now, not even with the war being over. There was no room for someone to shine joy into his life any longer; he had lost all hope years ago.

And now she was there, reaching to touch him, to pull him closer with those small, warm hands of hers and all he wanted to do was crush her body against his own and let the rest of the world go to the devil.

Draco knew how she would feel; he had never forgotten. The feel of her hair against his fingers, the satiny texture of her flesh, the scent that had so often clung to her…he knew it all, for she had haunted his dark, shattered dreams for countless nights and would not let him forget. He had tried so bloody hard to forget her and everything they had shared because their relationship had been one born from the dark things of life. It had long ago served its purpose and held no worth in a world that was healing now.

Had he been a man of scruples, he would have forgotten her and left her in the past, where she belonged. And even more than that, she deserved something he could never have given her – happiness.

"He's yours."

Her voice had risen above a whisper now, the honeyed dulcet sound causing Draco's eyes to fill with tears of disbelief and shock.

"That last night when we stayed in the barn, don't you remember? Oh, Draco, it was that night. I know it."

Draco wondered if even death would cause him to forget that night and all the nights that he had ever been blessed to spend with her. His heart ached as if a dull object was stabbing it over and over again. He stood watching her tears swimming in his eyes. Why was fate cruel enough to have forced him to give up the only woman he had ever loved and then…flaunt her joy and happiness in the face of his torment?

He closed his eyes feeling the weariness of the entire world settle upon him. His heart thudded and his fingers trembled. A child; they shared a child.

A dream they had woven together had been realized.

He was not a part of it.

Why today? Why this house? Why this revelation?

Somehow, Draco found himself on the ground near the window, staring up at her with red, bleary eyes.

"We…our son?"

Hermione was watching him with hesitation and he swore he saw the hint of a smile.

"Yes."

She fell to her knees next to him, putting her small arms around his body and cradling him so that Draco had no choice but to bury his face against her neck. She relished the feel of his warmth against her body and the scratchiness of his beard against her skin. So much had changed between them but not this – not the way he felt in her arms – never this.

"Oh, Hermione."

The moan was both a lament and a sweet sound. It was a cry for everything he had lost and everything they had ever shared. He cried against the softness of her hair, holding her close.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

The words were muffled and thick with emotion.

Hermione luxuriated in the silky feel of his hair against her fingers as she pressed her cheek against his burning one for a moment, mingling their tears together.

"What are you sorry about?"

"I…I left you. You and the baby and if I had known, bloody hell, Hermione! I wouldn't have left you with such a burden!"

They pulled apart to gaze at each other. Draco's face was married with regret and shame while Hermione offered him a smile through her tears.

"I'm not sorry," she said gently, running a tender hand down along his face. "Leo's my reason for living. Through all the dark times I knew I had to keep on going for him. He saved me just like you did. You didn't know it but you gave me a reason to hang on even when you weren't there."

Amidst the pain they were going through, he found joy, for it resided in the honeyed depths of her beautiful eyes. Draco wondered why he had ever left her for in that moment he had realized that he was home again, after so many years away.

The photograph sat on the dusty ground between them, Leo waving and grinning up at them in a perpetual painting of child-like happiness.

Draco was leaning against the wall and Hermione knelt next to him, a peaceful expression on her face. Although there was much that lay between them now and too many unanswered questions, she would not ruin the precious moments she was allowed to have with him for she knew they would be few.

She was a married woman and Draco was not her husband. It was a troubling thought in the face of the emotions he had reborn within her. Draco was speaking, his voice alight with excitement.

"What's he like? How old is he now?"

Hermione smiled fondly at the barrage of questions. She hadn't felt joy like this in a long while, she realized, and she wanted the distraction from the gathering of stormy thoughts.

"He'll be five this June."

Then she hesitated, realizing how many years Draco had already lost and the dread she felt at the uncertainty of whether could be a real, true part of Leo's life. But that was for later; she simply wouldn't think of that now! Not when the moment was so full of joy.

Hermione fought against the dark thoughts, smiling at him.

"Leo's brilliant! He's so beautiful! So happy, loving and so smart!"

Her eyes watered but they were shining with the pride that only a mother could have for her child.

"Draco, he was walking before all the other children his age and he….he talks so much sometimes I think I'm having a conversation with a much older boy."

Hermione reached down and picked up the photograph, scooting closer to Draco so they could both see.

"Look at him!"

A tear slipped down his weathered face as he ran his fingers tenderly along the picture, awestruck.

"Just look at him. He's perfect. He's…he's as beautiful as his mother."

Hermione snorted softly and it resting her head against his shoulder seemed the most natural thing in the world.

"You're a fool," she said with affection. "He's got my hair but his eyes…"

She swallowed, recalling too many times how much Leo had reminded her of Draco. She looked up at him for a moment, searching his face as if to memorize it. She studied the line of his nose, the full mouth under the beard and the rugged way his hair curled at the collar of his worn and faded uniform. But it was his eyes that ensnared her every time; the depth of emotion that she found there.

Hermione was riveted in place, her heart galloping weakly as she opened her mouth to speak.

"He looks just like you. I was reminded of you every single day."

"Hermione, you can't imagine how much I've missed you. How seeing you again and hearing about our son has…"

He fell silent, choked up with emotion but his eyes continued what he was trying to say for she saw love shining in their depths.

Hermione felt suddenly warm at the way he was watching her, as if he could see through her to the very beating heart of her. It was wrong; it couldn't happen, not anymore. And the touch she craved, the way his fingers linked with hers was so wrong!

"Draco, please, I can't."

She pulled away with a hint of apology and he fell back, swallowing away his bitterness. Withdrawing his hand left Hermione bereft. The tension between them diminished the earlier joy.

"What did you tell everyone?"

Hermione watched him but Draco did not move his head to deign her with a glance.

"Ginny and the rest of them? Your husband?"

She was both hurt and bewildered by the sudden change in his demeanor for it was like an icy wave had washed over him. A blush colored her cheeks.

"I…I told them that-"

She hesitated, uncertain of herself.

"Ginny knows. Neville thinks you're dead. The rest of them believe you were…you were someone who died. No one knows who…"

Hermione felt herself growing warm with shame. She hadn't thought about her actions and how she was subtly trying to make it so that Leo would never know what his father had been.

Draco snorted, his eyes flashing.

"How convenient for you, then."

Her cheeks flamed.

"You'd mock me for my choices?"

"Of course not."

"I was protecting Leo! You're not blind! You see what's been happening and you said it yourself!"

His face was hard.

"So you lie to everyone you know about what happened between us?"

Hermione's frustration and shame got the best of her.

"You left me!" she exploded. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again so, yes, I was protecting my son because I thought you were dead!"

Draco slumped against the wall once again, his body limp.

"And Longbottom's been raising Leo?"

The sound of their son's name on Draco's lips was surreal for Hermione. She had dreamed about such a moment but had stopped believing it might happen.

"He's been doing a wonderful job," she said emphatically. "He's a good father, Draco. Leo loves him and I can't imagine-"

A storm was brewing in Draco's eyes but his response was interrupted by a faint sound of laughter coming from outside. It was James or Albus, Hermione could tell. And the distant sound made her realize where they were and how long she had been gone.

"Merlin's beard, I need to go!" she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet and then using her wand to clean herself up quickly. It wouldn't do for anyone to see her covered with dust and dirt.

Draco, who had been silent that whole time, finally spoke.

"I have no right to be angry, Hermione. But it's knowing my son doesn't know I'm his father…"

She stopped, overwhelmed with sadness.

"I know," she whispered. "But Leo couldn't have asked for a better man to call his father. I know that you want to be there but I don't know how on earth I could-"

She studied the planes of his face for a long while, feeling her heart tighten with love for him.

"Draco, don't go, please. I'll come back; I'll come back soon, I promise."

He perked up.

"Will you bring Leo?"

Her face faltered, the color draining from it.

"He's so young! If you're hiding how could we possibly keep him from saying something?"

Draco felt deflated but he nodded. As she gathered her things to go, he felt like a part of him was dying. How he had almost believed he could go on without her was ludicrous.

"Hermione," he began reaching towards her with one hand. She took it, squeezing it between her two small ones.

"I'll be back," she vowed. "I'll have clean clothes, food, a razor…"

There was an uncertainty in his eyes and she wanted to weep. Leaning in closer, she stopped thinking about right and wrong and pressed her lips against his firmly.

"Don't leave," she whispered against his mouth. "Promise me."

Draco even remembered how she would taste – and he relished it for the few seconds he was able to.

"I promise."

She pulled away and then left with one, uncertain and anxious glance back. He wondered how he would ever be able to stay away.