Author's Note: This piece will conclude the 3-chaptered segment of this time-frame. As you all know by know, I have been collaborating with my good friend, Blue Rose, on this and they have written a piece that the next segment will follow after I post the short interlude chapter. You don't have to read their chapter, but I will encourage you to go read We Have Cookies by them! (Post this at the end of your ffn link: s/12859648/3/Silver-Fireworks)

Enjoy!

Word count: 1,263

Warning: Heavy implications of a panic/anxiety attack.

Tranquility

23rd of March, 2010

It was late. Draco had finally got Scorpius to sleep and he went to sprawl out on the couch with a book in hand that he wasn't planning on reading. He should probably get some rest himself, but he was enjoying just sitting and doing nothing. His mind went blank as he basked in the rare moment of silence that never happened in the flat above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The only problem was that the quiet had caused his mind to wander and the tightness in his chest started to churn. Draco would rather have a migraine induced from the never-ending noise in exchange for the oncoming panic attacks any day.

Only a year had passed since he found himself in a position he'd never fathom ever happening in his entire life; he was abandoned by the very people he thought would never leave him. Astoria had his own parents completely brainwashed into thinking that their marriage was ruined because he was unfaithful. In reality, it was quite the opposite, but it really didn't matter. She stripped everything from him: she took the shares from their estate holdings, she took the house, and she took his parents in one clean sweep and left him with nothing except his "carbon copy for a son," as the witch scathingly put it.

Draco didn't have the best relationship with his parents after the war ended, but it never stopped them from setting their differences aside to be around one another when it was needed. To think they would believe Astoria over him and shut him—and their own grandson—completely out of their lives based on the accusations alone was… there were no words for it, but it cut deep. It almost didn't feel real, and at this point, he wouldn't be the least bit surprised that she imperio'd them to do her bidding.

And now here he was, a single father, working in the last place he ever envisioned himself being employed at, and living with the last people he'd ever imagined. They were his overly-generous employers who had no reason at all to even show a glimmer of kindness toward him, but he was grateful for it and forever indebted to them. Although he was pretty sure that if he up and left tomorrow with no warning, leaving Scorpius behind, the twins wouldn't even notice his absence. They were completely smitten with his kid. Probably because it gave them the excuse they never really needed to act childish and be extra loud and obnoxious.

The thought of not being needed—wanted—caused Draco's breathing to quicken along with his heart rate. He had to get a grip on himself before it got too out of hand or before one of the twins (who always lurked about at the worst times) caught wind of it and would want to intervene.

It wasn't their problem to handle, so why should they be concerned about his damaged spirit? Why should they want to help? So long as he did his job adequately, day-in and day-out until they decided to kick him to the cobblestone, that was all that should matter to them. Thankfully, they were nowhere to be found for the time being. But that always changed with a drop of a hat.

He was on his feet pacing now, hands clutching tightly in his hair as he tried to shake the thoughts away. Scorpius still needed him, right? Draco was his father; he took care of him, protected him, and loved him unconditionally. The twins barely knew that sweets were not an ideal three-course meal for a child, though he knew that most of their ignorance was purposefully fabricated to drive him up the wall.

"All in good fun," they would say. Yet they were the fun ones, he heard it from the mouth of Scorpius himself during one of his "I don't want to do that or listen" moods, and it clung to Draco's nightmares ever since.

He froze in front of their room; he couldn't go in there or he'd wake his son. That was something he didn't need Scorpius to see—waking up to witness his father falling apart in front of him. That was something he made absolutely sure Scorpius was protected from: himself. Draco looked down the hall where the bathroom was and saw the door was closed. That wasn't an option, either. The office was too far away to even consider, and it came with the risk of running into one of the twins (he forgot which one) who had stepped out not long ago.

Draco was reeling. His head swam with doubt and uncertainty, and all his hiding spots were occupied. He didn't know what had come over him—he just needed to find a door to close behind him and press his back against—but he found himself in the Weasley twins' shared room with the door now firmly shut. He went and sat on the edge of one of the beds, feeling his legs about to collapse on him. Draco pressed his palms into his eyes, fingers digging into his scalp, and elbows rested on his knees as he quietly fought against his demons.

Time seemed to have stopped. Draco's quiet mutterings of a weak pep talk were silenced on his lips. Somewhere during the episode, he'd calmed down enough to completely pass out where he resided. It wasn't the most pleasant sleep at first as the haunting nightmares lingered on the edge of his mind, threatening to make themselves known. He knew he slept restlessly most nights, tossing and turning regularly, but this time it was different. The nightmares didn't come, his subconscious remained undisturbed, and the horrifying feeling he would normally wake with didn't overwhelm him after he found himself staring up at the dark ceiling.

Draco went completely still at the realization that he'd never left the room where he'd hidden away. He dared not move as he registered the synced breathing of the twins on either side of him and the touch of their hands loosely resting over his wrists. This was going to be difficult to explain. It was hard for even himself to rationalize what was going on. There was no oncoming panic from the alleged predicament, however. Instead, he was quite calm and content compared to how he'd been earlier, and he'd gladly take the tranquil feeling for the time being.

He shifted himself carefully to lay on his side, finding the closeness of the twin he faced comforting. In the cloak of darkness, Draco just stared at the angelic sleeping visage of the Weasley. The urge to brush a hand across his cheek was tempting, but he didn't want to further risk whatever this was. Instead, he curled his hand further into the ginger's; the twinge of a smile curved his lips in knowing that the pair actually did sleep. The other shifted abruptly behind him and he stopped breathing. Snapping his eyes closed, he prepared for the backlash that never came.

The other twin cuddled closer against him, draping an arm over his waist. The soft sigh that escaped from him tickled the back of Draco's neck, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He released his own quiet breath, the heavy exhale and the warmth from their presence further relaxed him into a fresh wave of sleepiness that soon took over. Draco was okay with this, since they seemed to be, too. Whatever it may be. The only question that he had lingering in his mind now was:

Will Scorpius be okay with this?