A/N: For my Dramiones! ❤️ It's been so long since I've written a story for these two, I figure I owe you some content and it's time to attempt a Muggle AU. After I got COVID last year my brain wouldn't work properly. I am still working to get back into the swing of my writing style, but what better way than to dive back into the Dramione pool?

As always, Draco Malfoy is bisexual in this work. Blaise is gay, Dean is gay, etc, so be cognizant there are queer characters throughout the story. If that offends you, this fic will not be enjoyable so please exit the ride at this time. I've chosen not to use archive warnings. This story is about grief just as much as it is about love; take that as you will. Trigger warnings (TWs) and content warnings (CWs) will be posted at the beginning of each chapter in the notes section.

"Love you, dad!"

Those three words were the best and worst part of Draco's day. When Scorpius left for school each morning all the light, all the life was pulled from the manor walls. Three separate contracts were open on Draco's desk, but his eyes couldn't focus. All the words blurred together, hopping from one page to another. Draco lifted his head and leaned back in his desk chair. He glanced up at the clock to see it was a bit past two.

All he wanted to do was sleep. Watch a silly film, then another, and another. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the desk, exhausted. The pressure of Scorpius's words was a weight he couldn't lift off his shoulders. Was he worthy of Scorp's love? Was he a good enough father? Suddenly Draco's office was too big, the door too far away, and his eyelids were so heavy—

But Draco always had tea with his mother on Monday afternoon.

He fluffed his hair and stood up from his chair. Why couldn't the day just end already? He took a deep breath in through his nose, held it, and exhaled through his mouth. Draco walked out his office door and made for his mother's study. Everything was still and dreary; Draco walked through the halls with the weight of centuries bearing down on him. God, some days it was hard to breathe.

Tea and biscuits would be a welcome reprieve. When Draco met his mother in the sitting room, he spotted macarons on the table.

Shit.

Macarons were the, "I know they are your favourite," pastry. The, "We need to have a discussion that will make you uncomfortable," pastry. Draco groaned and braced himself for what he guessed would be another attempt to get him to start dating. He sat in the chair across from his mother and said,

"Scorpius is teaching himself to draw trees."

Narcissa smiled softly and asked, "Is he improving?"

"Loads. Far quicker than I would have guessed possible for a boy his age."

"He comes by it honestly."

Draco grabbed a chocolate macaron and tossed it into his mouth. He looked at his mother, daring her to say anything about it. He could see the hint of irritation in her eyes as he chewed and swallowed. I taught you proper manners. She shook her head in fond exasperation as she poured the tea. They sat in amicable silence for a minute before Narcissa asked,

"Do you plan to stay alone forever?"

Draco sighed heavily, disappointed to have been right about his mother's motive. He insisted,

"I am not alone; I have you and Scorpius."

"My son, you are either working yourself to the bone handling the business or playing the role of two parents. It is not sustainable! Why do you refuse to search for love again?"

"Because I know what love looks like, and I see it every day when I look at my son. Every memory I have of Astoria is love to me. I won't welcome someone into my life just so I can forget how my wife made me feel."

"I am not asking you to forget Astoria, only for you to try to find another love so you will not be alone."

"Have you considered that perhaps I like being alone?"

"I know you, Draco, and you need to be around people. You have so much love to give. You need love in your life, and I know you are still in so much pain—"

"Do you believe it was my goal to be a widower at twenty-eight?!" shouted Draco. "Astoria was my family; I loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of my life. If you think the pain of losing her can be dulled by matching me with one of the desperate fluffheads that sign up for your bloody scam of a business, you are mistaken."

Narcissa answered with a sad smile.

"You speak to me as if you are the only widowed member of this family."

That chastened Draco for a brief moment. He looked his mother in the eyes and apologized.

"I never meant to imply you aren't hurting, too. Losing father was …" Draco winced and ran one hand through his hair. "Difficult in its own way."

"Yet, I had thirty years with your father. You barely had three with Astoria."

Draco rapped his knuckles on the table and admitted, "There isn't anyone who could make me feel the way she did. My marriage was the happiest year of my life. Astoria saw me as the man I wanted to be, and I have never seen anyone like her walk through your doors."

"You have no idea who utilizes my services."

"I can guess their caliber."

"You will guess wrong."

"If you say so."

"In fact, I have an appointment scheduled tomorrow with a very public figure."

"The Dalai Lama?"

"Draco."

He shrugged in lieu of a reply. His mother shook her head and sipped from her teacup before revealing,

"It's Hermione Granger."

"The woman from BBC News at Ten?"

"Apparently she's up for a spot on BBC Breakfast."

Draco frowned and asked, "Isn't that a step down for her? Granger was a foreign correspondent. I remember her doing that interview with the ambassador … She bloody well roasted him on live television. He had to retire afterward. She covered wars and now, what, she wants to sit on a sofa and talk about the weather?"

"I am sure she has her reasons."

"Wasn't she married?"

"Divorced seven years ago."

"Right, so we're clear … One of the most prominent journalists in the country is seriously considering a backward step in her career and is so desperate to find a partner that she is coming to you?"

"Or," Narcissa replied, "she has her eye on a prominent political position and is trying to make herself more relatable to the public."

"Oh, I see. She wants to appear relatable but doesn't actually care about finding someone, so she's coming to you as a shortcut."

"My results speak for themselves, regardless of the expectations people have when they walk through our doors. You would do well to follow her lead."

Draco knew what was coming. These conversations always snaked around to it eventually. He took a deep breath and counted backward from five as his mother said,

"If our losses have taught you anything, you should know that no day is guaranteed. Don't you believe Scorpius deserves to have a family who will always be there for him?"

"He has a family! He has me, you, Theo, Blaise, Bastien, and, on occasion, Daphne."

"Do not even begin to call the Greengrasses family!" snapped Narcissa. "I will not tolerate what they did to us. You did nothing wrong. Astoria's death was not your fault any more than it was Scorpius's doing. None of us could have done anything more than we did."

He nodded to himself.

"I know."

"Sometimes, my son, I'm not certain that you do."

Draco shrugged and admitted, "I don't want to be alone, but I do not want someone to try to compete with my memory of her. The grief doesn't go away, and it will never disappear completely. You can't promise me you will find someone who understands that."

"I never make promises in my business, Draco. My results speak for themselves."

He hated this because he'd seen her successes. The people she put together found love in each other more often than not. As many doubts as he had about finding love again, there was a tiny part of Draco that believed his mother might be able to find it for him. A part that he'd never been able to extinguish. Draco was desperate for her to stop asking.

"I have a proposition for you. I will give your matchmaking a go for one month. If you find me someone worthwhile, then I will concede you were right and give it a real go. However, if you fail to find me a suitable match, you drop the subject and never ask to set me up again."

Narcissa's face brightened and she insisted, "Three months. It takes at least three months for the process to pick up steam. Three months is all I ask of you, my son."

"Fine, then." Draco conceded, "You have three months."