A/N: A couple notes. First, and most importantly, I want to reiterate that "Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings" is an intentional choice. I believe most of you can suss out which of the warnings will apply, but for those of you who aren't sure, remember this is a story about grief. If that's not your jam, I'd rather you bow out now than be shaken by something several chapters on. Second, I only just realized I missed a major opportunity to name Chapter 9/10 "Viktor Kum." Somewhere out there, in some universe, is a Viktor Krum porn star AU and I support it. This chapter has been lightly edited, so please forgive any errors.

CW: Crude Language

Happy birthday.

Draco watched Hermione exit the car with incredible speed. She closed the door like she'd pull him out with her if she had a single second to consider it. He sighed to himself,

"Thank God I haven't forgotten how to do that."

Draco shifted a bit on the seat, crossed one leg over the other, and tried to will back his budding erection. He hadn't realized how small Hermione was until he was holding her. He'd thought of all the things they could do if Colin made himself scarce. Draco had to stop from ripping the buttons off her blouse after unfastening the bow at her neck. He couldn't feel enough of her, needed to be skin on skin, had even tried to grab her bum but her trousers were too tight.

Colin opened the driver door and pulled Draco from those thoughts.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am going to need you to eventually exit the vehicle."

Draco grimaced.

"Man-to-man, Colin, if you hadn't had sex in six years and a woman like that jumps on top of you in the back of a car …" Draco grimaced and scooted backward on the seat. "My zombie cock is coming back to life so I need a minute."

"I can see how a woman like Hermione may potentially be attractive to someone who is not employed by her."

Draco sighed, "I'm not gonna report you for saying she's attractive, Colin."

"You never know these days. Fine, you've got a minute. But if you don't annihilate this situation quickly, you are not allowed to wank in my car."

"Fair enough."

Colin closed the door and Draco pressed his forehead against the seat in front of him. He could still feel Hermione's tits against his chest. Not helpful. She looked a wreck when she left. Her lipstick had been smeared across her cheek and even a bit down her neck. Her hair was knotted from where he'd had his left hand in it. Very much not helpful. Puppies. Blaise's paella. Professor Snape.

That did it. There was no quicker way to disinterest a cock than that greasy bastard. Draco shuddered and looked down at his dick.

"So sorry. Maybe next time."

He leaned back on the seat and counted to thirty in his head. He presumed Bastien was waiting out front of the building, so he opened the car door and stepped out. Draco closed the door and tried to walk forward, but his legs gave out underneath him. He managed to catch himself on the door handle as Colin chuckled from an arm's length away.

"Weak in the knees, there, Malfoy?"

Draco looked at him and asked, "Sorry?"

"Weak in the knees."

"Yeah." Draco pushed himself up and began walking away. "I guess you could say that."

Colin shouted after him, "Thanks for not wanking in my car!"

.oOo.

Wednesday was a series of texts that would be normal if they hadn't spent the previous week not speaking to each other.

Are you home safe?

Draco responded:

[thumbs-up emoji]

Thank you for being here for me.

And from Hermione:

Any time, Malfoy.

Except ten to eleven Monday thru Thursday.

That made Draco laugh. This part of being with Hermione was easy. It was the Thursday afternoon request to bring Scorpius to Malfoy Manor the following day that didn't quite make sense. Why would she choose to drive all that way? He rushed into their relationship the first time and would not make that mistake again.

Not to say he wasn't excited to see her. They loved each other. Hermione Granger was his girlfriend. Sort of. She was sort of his girlfriend. The two of them hadn't discussed a title, but Hermione would eventually be his girlfriend.

Right?

On Friday, Draco was delighted to get the text from security that Hermione Granger had arrived. Things unfolded much the way they had the previous time Hermione had come to the manor.

That should've been a clue.

Hermione unbuckled Scorpius from his car seat and he jumped out, brandishing one of his drawings. She looked great, though she'd chosen to wear a long-sleeved button-down similar to the one she wore on Tuesday. Draco was a little disappointed; he thought she'd feel safe enough with him to keep wearing ... Well, wearing what she wanted. Hermione had a gift box clutched in her right arm.

"Hello."

"Hi."

Draco watched Hermione's eyes glance down toward his lips, as if she expected to be greeted with a kiss. He looked quickly down at Scorpius and smiled, ruffling his hair so Scorpius would groan, shoo him away, and break the moment. Hermione sighed and followed them up the front stairs and inside. Over his shoulder, Draco asked,

"Are you staying for dinner?"

"No." Hermione said, "I volunteered to drive your son to free up Blaise's night for Dean. It's good seeing him happy again, and I don't want Scorpius to feel like he's preventing them from spending time together." She paused before adding, "I also wanted to see you again."

Draco felt renewed distance between them at that moment. He'd been an afterthought? Was Blaise's sex life that much more important than whatever undefined thing was happening between the two of them?

"When," Hermione asked, "is baby blond's birthday?"

"July 29th."

Scorpius held up one full hand and one finger on the other.

"I'm gonna be six!"

"Very mature, six," replied Hermione. "It's an important age that comes with bigger books."

Scorpius said, "I like books with pictures."

"Me too, Scorp." Draco followed them both into the manor and said, "Business briefs should have more pictures. You can go put your stuff in your room and play."

Scorpius ran halfway up the staircase, then ran back down to ask,

"Can I help chef?"

"No, he's using large knives this evening. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?"

"Okay!"

Then back upstairs he went. Hermione watched him with a fond expression on her face. Draco had seen it several dozen times before; everyone loved his son. Hermione asked,

"Will you take me to Romilda?" She held up the box in her right hand and said, "I owe her a gift."

"Romi?" asked Draco. "She's upstairs. I'll show you."

"I was hoping she would be here. A few weeks ago you said she practically lives here, so I figured this was the best opportunity. It only arrived yesterday and I can't wait to deliver it personally."

Great. Another reason for her to drive two hours in from London. Another reason that had nothing to do with him. Hermione touched every facet of Draco's life except him. Draco showed Hermione into his mother's office, where Romilda was sitting in her chair next to Narcissa's empty desk. Hermione knocked on the doorframe and asked,

"May I come in?"

"Of course!" Romilda looked up and smiled. "I'm happy to see you. Narcissa's on holiday near Carcassonne."

"Oh, my publicist has taken a couple days to explore France as well. It feels like I'm free for the first time in months. This, however, just came in." Hermione stood in front of Romi then handed her the box wrapped in red and gold striped paper. She said, "I'm quite rubbish at wrapping presents; my friend Parvati wrapped this. It is a gift from Hermione to Romilda. Setting me up on a date with Viktor did more for me than I can say."

"But …" Romilda hesitantly accepted the box. "You didn't get a relationship out of it. You didn't get anything out of it—"

Hermione tried to hide a smile as she said, "I assure you, I did."

Romilda began tearing the paper off the box and insisted, "I only do the work for Narcissa, I truly don't do all that much. It's just putting different puzzle pieces together."

"Narcissa didn't pick him," replied Hermione, "you did."

That hurt. Hermione hadn't said it to be rude, hell, she hadn't even asked him to stay for this conversation. It was his own curiosity that kept him there. But she was grateful that Viktor Krum had come into her life at the moment he did, so much so that she got Romilda—

"What?!" Romilda opened the box and held up what appeared to be a leather-bound slab of wood. "You got me a writing board?!"

Hermione smiled the biggest smile Draco had seen from her yet.

"I figured your skills require something more than the average clipboard."

Hermione was good with words, good with logic, but gift-giving? That was quite thoughtful. He'd been watching Romi carry around those horrible clipboards for three years and never thought—

"It's got my name on it," Romilda said, misty-eyed.

"As it happens, they offer space for four initials in a monogram. I managed to squeeze 'ROMI' on there, as I don't know your middle name."

Romilda gently ran the pad of her fingers across the leather and looked on in awe. Without looking up, she revealed,

"There's two: Romilda Clarice Wells Vane."

"Beautiful name for a byline. At any rate, the leather straps up top are meant to hold your pen, then the leather bits on the corners are for you to put business cards in, or whatever it is you need to keep with you. I chose this one because the craftsmanship is exceptional. This is my way of saying I hope you continue to do this job for a very long time, because you are exceptional."

"Shit." Romilda placed the board on her chair and gently touched the undersides of her eyes. "I'm going to cry, that is so sweet of you. Can I hug you? I know your arm is messed up and I don't want to—"

"Yes." Hermione nodded and said, "You can hug me."

Romilda was quite a bit taller than Hermione and hugged her with one arm around the waist and the other around her good shoulder. Draco watched and wondered why he considered Romi as good as family, but she'd never reacted that way to him. He didn't know her middle names. Hermione seemed to be forming tighter bonds with everyone in his family, while he continued to slip away. Hermione stepped out of the hug probably sooner than Romilda was ready for.

"It's been so long since someone's given me a present." Romilda looked down at the board and said, "Longer than I'd like to admit."

"I figured this is more permanent than a fruit basket."

Romilda laughed.

"It's perfect. Thank you. Narcissa gave me control of your file and I wanted to give you the best we have. We get so many men in here who are nowhere near decent—"

"Cormacs."

"Would you believe he's not even the worst?" asked Romi. "When Krum came in for his consultation, I knew from the moment he sat down that he was almost perfect for you. He told Narcissa he was hesitant to start a long-term relationship again because his first one ended so horribly. Though not horrible in terms of the woman he was in love with, horrible in that they were good together and could no longer be together. I believe that's how he phrased it."

"Then you set him up on a date with that woman," replied Hermione. "I was twenty, Viktor was twenty-one, and at the end of the summer I was going to Singapore and he was concentrating on football. He wasn't quite as big a star then, and one of us would've had to give up our dream to continue to go forward as a couple. Loving someone like that and having to let go the way we did …" Hermione shook her head. "It hurts. That's why we hadn't seen each other in so long, because that love doesn't go away. It lingers below the surface and you were careful enough to see it. You're good at reading people, and I think you would make a fine journalist if there was any money in it."

"God, don't say things like that!" Romilda fell into her chair and insisted, "You're too nice."

Hermione laughed.

"Nobody's ever said that to me. I do need to leave, but I wanted … Well, I suppose I wanted to make sure you understand the value you give to this business. And, in this instance, to me."

Romilda nodded as Hermione turned toward the door. She shouted over her shoulder,

"Walk me out?"

"Of course."

Draco turned to follow her out the door. She made for the stairs, but Draco wrapped his fingers around her right elbow and steered her toward the study. Hermione didn't ask where they were going, figuring Draco's intent was quite clear. He peeked into the study to ensure no one was inside before showing Hermione in. He closed the door behind them and Hermione placed her hands on her hips.

"Some would consider it quite ungentlemanly to trap a woman in a room like this."

Draco laughed.

"Would they now?"

He stood in front of her and looked down. Good lord, she was small. She'd stared down men taller than him, men of great political esteem, and they'd walked away in tears. This woman could tear him apart without touching him, and yet … Draco felt so deeply in love it terrified him. Hermione said,

"It could be quite untoward."

"Ah. I see." Draco smiled even wider and placed both hands on the sides of Hermione's face. "Do I have permission to be untoward with you, Miss Granger?"

"On this occasion?" She conceded, "You do."

Neither of them could stop from smiling as Draco leaned in for a gentle kiss. Her lips were soft and—

"You taste like blueberries."

"Oh, God," Hermione laughed, "I had a blueberry macaron just before I pulled into the drive."

Draco kissed Hermione deep and slow, then watched her eyes flutter closed. He broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together.

"I fucking love blueberries."

"I love when you're being untoward."

Draco whispered against her lips, "Can I have more?"

"More what?" asked Hermione.

"Blueberries."

She glanced down at Draco's lips.

"Take as much as you like."

Draco took Hermione's hand as he walked toward the chaise. He nestled himself in the corner and gently pulled Hermione onto his lap. She took the lead for a moment and kissed Draco full-on. Her kisses were gentle, hesitant, almost as if she was worried each kiss was just a precursor to another moment like their missed opportunity in the garden. Draco pulled on one end of the bow around her neck and watched it unravel.

"I don't like these shirts, Hermione."

She softly hummed, "No?"

Draco shook his head and smiled at her as he unfastened the first three buttons.

"It's another obstacle between me and the rest of you."

"You really don't have to be so patient."

Hermione leaned in for another kiss as she took Draco's free hand and placed it on her chest. Something snapped in his brain as his thoughts sped off in a dozen directions. He pulled her forward, desperate to be as close to her as possible, his zombie cock suddenly very interested in Hermione's chest. Viktor who? Draco was the one in this moment with Hermione. He was holding her, listening to those tiny gasps between kisses with his hand on her chest. Draco had purposefully kept these tits out of his mind for weeks, and Hermione felt even better than he would've imagined. Her chest was fuller than Astoria's was naturally. Then again, when she was pregnant her tits were massive, one in a series of delightful developments. Hermione kissed him again, long and slow, like maybe this was only the precursor to something else quicker and hotter to come. But then Draco realized that for the first time in nearly six years, he was kissing a woman who was not his wife.

He pulled away from Hermione and ran one hand through his hair. She tried to lean in again but he placed his hands on her waist and gently guided her off his lap so she was standing in front of him. She stood there, looked at him, then fastened one of the buttons on her blouse. Draco couldn't quite understand what was happening behind her eyes. He only needed time to reorient himself. The moment—

"So you know, the next time you ask to kiss me, the answer will be no."

"Sorry?"

"I can't believe you did this again." She glanced toward the ceiling then turned toward the door. "I can't believe I let you do this again."

Draco stood as quickly as he could and followed her out the office door.

"Hermione, I am sorry, I needed a moment to—"

She turned around to say, "I know slow. I can do slow, I want slow. This is the stop-start-stop-start with you. The stops hurt me."

"I know—"

"I forgave you for the first time because I was horrible to you, too. I forgave you because I looked at you and saw a future that made me happy. A kid I love, a man who supports my career ambitions, and a family that's already half-mine. Everything about us made sense."

Draco insisted, "It still makes sense."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "it does. But that doesn't make your choices hurt any less. I won't let you do this to me a third time."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you need to go to Romilda and ask her to find your second date."

She couldn't mean that. One mistake, or two, couldn't possibly justify throwing this away. Draco followed her downstairs and out the front door, where he watched Hermione get into her car. She didn't give him time to say anything, didn't wave goodbye or provide any acknowledgment that he was standing there.

What just happened? Sixty seconds earlier he had been kissing Hermione in his office. Then he found himself on the front steps of his own home, watching his girlfriend drive away. Girlfriend. He liked the sound of that. It had felt a little foreign before, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than for Hermione to be his girlfriend.

But she left.

She wasn't supposed to leave like that.

The weekend was silent. His texts went unread. His calls were unanswered. Hermione was hurt, and Draco did not know how to repair that wound.

Bastien would know.

Draco drove Scorpius back to London Sunday afternoon, but stopped at the Queensbury-Patil house before heading to Blaise. Scorp loved their house because there were five small trees protecting the front from view of the street. Sometimes he would sit on the ground and stare at them, as if trying to figure out the singular shapes that formed into the larger tree he would try to draw later.

Not this time, however. Draco unfastened Scorpius from his car seat and they walked up to the front door together. Draco knocked and Bastien answered. His face fell immediately.

"Oh, mate, you could not have picked a worse time."

"Why?"

Padma appeared in the hall behind him and said, "Because you're not welcome here."

Bastien looked Draco in the eyes and insisted, "This is a bad time."

"Is that the takeaway?"

Hermione's voice sounded from inside. She appeared with a delighted smile on her face, which vanished the moment she caught sight of Draco.

"Oh."

Draco asked, "Can we come in?"

Padma insisted, "I'd rather you didn't."

"It's fine." Hermione shrugged and turned away. "It's fine."

"Fine, are we?" asked Draco.

Scorpius shouted, "Auntie Padma!"

Bastien stepped aside so Scorpius could rush inside. Padma knelt to give Scorpius a tight squeeze.

"I miss you, baby blond."

"Miss you!" He seemed to spot Hermione around the corner and rushed off shouting, "Hermione!"

Padma conceded, "You are welcome in exclusively as Scorpius's plus-one."

Draco crossed the threshold and Bastien closed the door behind him. The three of them made their way into the dining room, where Hermione stood awkwardly against the wall with Scorpius at her side. Sat at various points around the table were Ginny Potter, Parvati, and Dean Thomas. Draco mumbled,

"Group therapy? Delightful."

"To be fair," said Dean, "you prompted it."

"I did this?" asked Draco. "Please, expand on that. I am immensely curious."

Ginny said, "As Hermione tells it, you pulled her into a room, started snogging her, then rejected her again."

"That's a bit of a mischaracterization."

"Is it?" asked Hermione.

"Yes!" Draco insisted, "I didn't reject anything, I just needed a moment to orient myself. The feelings were new for me."

Padma asked, "Do you expect to keep playing with her emotions?"

"What about mine? Do my feelings even merit the slightest consideration in all this?"

"Of course they do," replied Hermione. "All I want is for you to stop leading me on."

"Leading you on?"

Draco looked around at their audience and recognized this was a conversation best had without prying eyes. He took Hermione by her right arm and pulled her into the nearest bathroom. He slammed the door closed and turned to face her. She huffed,

"Yes, you led me on."

"Hermione, I have never initiated anything with you that I did not want to do. You are pushing me to go faster, and I won't apologize for telling you I am not ready. We have known each other all of two months. You have done incredible things for me, for which I am more than grateful. You have every bit of me that I can give you. I simply need you to understand I cannot move as quickly as you want me to. You said to me that it takes a sharp edge to meet a sharp edge, and I am not fine enough to meet you yet."

"Then why do you hurt me in the process?" asked Hermione. "Why couldn't you just say you're not ready? Instead, you let me have the slightest taste of what things could be like if you were willing to love me the way I know I can love you. You make me compete with your wife's ghost every time I see you, and I can't do it anymore!"

"I am not making you compete with her; all I am asking is that you give me time to heal. I was stabbed clean through the heart when my wife died. You can't expect to slap a bandage over the wound and expect it to knit itself together. It takes a fucking miracle to repair, and you're mine, Hermione. But it's slow to heal."

"Why?" begged Hermione. "Why can't I be enough for you at this moment? You've had years to let go of her and right now you don't even want to hold me."

"I never said that."

"You don't have to! You pushed me away, literally pushed me off of you. You don't want me—"

"If you would look at the situation from—"

"There is nothing for me to look at other than being rejected by you again!"

"That's not what happened!" Draco shouted, "The last woman I slept with, Hermione, it literally killed her! I haven't forgiven myself for that. I cannot lose you, and I am afraid that I will hurt you the way I hurt her. You can't understand that because you've never looked at someone's body knowing you're the reason they are in the bloody morgue, then having to get on with your life because loads of other people depend on you for support, their jobs, and their families."

"You're right." Hermione conceded, "I've never looked at someone's body and had to take responsibility for it because the reporter from Le Monde who was standing in front of me when a bomb went off was in too many bits to pick up afterward."

Draco's heart sank. She never said anything. Every time someone mentioned the explosion, Hermione got a distant look on her face and Draco pulled her out of it by changing the subject. He assumed that was the kindest approach to take.

"I didn't—"

"You didn't know because you never asked. You never asked, 'How is it that only the left side of you is fucked-up, Hermione?' Because I would have told you. I've never spoken about it before, but I figured you understood the guilt better than anybody else I know could hope to. I certainly never anticipated shouting it at you in Padma's bathroom, but here we are, Draco. Because I ask and ask and ask about your wife, while you rarely ask about what happened to me and admonished your son when he did."

"Because it's rude."

"No, Draco, because it's personal. And you are afraid to let anyone in again because if you do then it means you might have something else to lose." Hermione took a shallow breath before admitting, "I cannot even blame you for it because I hate myself for how desperate I've become."

"When you began asking about my wife, it hurt to dredge up that pain again. I didn't want that to happen for you."

"It did. Even now, standing here in front of you knowing that you will never commit to me the way you committed to her, I still love you." Hermione wiped tears from her eyes as she said, "I love you so much and I don't even know why. Because you hold me close and say, 'I've got you, golden girl,' then push me away because you're afraid. I can show up at your door at my lowest point, knowing you'll take me in because that despair is the only place where you can meet me as an equal. You'll never be happy with me the way I know I would be happy with you. I would rather be miserable without you than be with you knowing I'm not enough to make you happy."

"I'm trying—"

"Then stop!" Hermione sobbed, "Just please stop trying."

"It's only time, Hermione." Draco felt his chest begin to ache, like there was truly no coming back from this moment. Draco tucked one of Hermione's curls behind her ear and repeated, "All I need is time."

Hermione took a deep breath in then shook her head.

"You don't have it. I'm finished waiting; I have to move on."

"You don't, and I am asking you not to."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling as if she was considering it. That had to be its own win, right? She asked,

"If I wait for you, how long before we have sex?"

Draco frowned.

"Sorry?"

"How long? Six months? A year? Two? How long am I going to be getting myself off hoping the next time I see you, my maybe-boyfriend, hoping you are finally ready to be intimate with me?"

Aghast, Draco asked, "Maybe-boyfriend?!"

"Maybe my would-be boyfriend would realize that his wife's death has no responsible party! Maybe my would-be boyfriend would realize that our situation in bed is completely opposite to the one he had before! Maybe you would have asked me if I wanted a kid. Your son could tell you the answer because he fucking asked!"

Draco's mouth fell open in shock.

"Scorpius asked whether you hope to have children?"

"Yes. He asked about my divorce, he asked about family planning, and he asked about my shoes."

"Oh."

"He also asked if I was trying to be his second mum, which I suppose is the one question you've managed to answer."

Stunned, Draco sputtered, "He asked you … If you …"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"He doesn't want someone to replace his mother, Draco, he just wants someone to be there for his dad." Hermione shrugged. "I believe it's obvious now that it won't be me."

She turned and opened the door to reveal Scorpius standing defiantly in the hallway, tiny brow furrowed in concern. He asked,

"Dad, why did you make Hermione cry?"

Draco looked down at him and said, "This is not a conversation for you, Scorp."

"I don't want Hermione to be sad. Why did you make her sad?"

Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay, baby blond. But you should go with your dad for now, okay?"

"No!" Scorpius huffed, "Not okay!"

Draco lowered his voice and said, "You are being impolite."

"You're mean!"

"No," Hermione insisted, "he's not being mean. He is doing what he believes is best."

Scorpius insisted, "It's not best if he makes you sad. Dad is always sad, I don't want you sad, too."

Draco couldn't understand what was happening. Hermione had just left him. She'd given up. The woman who never quit anything, who had three degrees and learned languages the way most people learned recipes, finally determined what was left of Draco wasn't worth waiting for. His own son was standing there, staring at him like he was a disappointment. When had things gone so wrong? By taking one step out of his grief, he'd managed to fracture his entire family. Instead of articulating any of that, Draco said,

"I am not always sad."

"You are!" Scorpius hugged Hermione and begged, "Don't leave. You make him happy, you make me happy, now everyone is sad. Everyone is sad if you leave."

"You're leaving, baby blond," replied Hermione, "not me."

"Will I see you again?"

"I don't know."

"Promise!" demanded Scorpius. He clutched tighter to Hermione's jeans and begged, "Promise! Promise! Promise!"

"Enough!"

Draco pulled Scorpius up off the ground and held him against his chest. He made for the door as Scorpius screamed over his shoulder.

"NO! I DON' WANNA GO! PUT ME DOWN! I DON' WANNA GO!"

"We are leaving."

"NO!"

Scorpius reached out his arms as Draco opened the front door. He shouted,

"HERMIONE! DON'T LEAVE HERMIONE! YOU CAN BE MY MUM PLEASE LET US STAY! Auntie Padma! AUNTIE PADMA!"

Draco closed the door gently behind them and walked to the car as Scorpius began pounding his shoulder with those tiny fists.

"No! I don't understand!"

"Me either, Scorp. Me either."

"You say ask questions! Go back! Ask questions!"

"Stop talking!"

"START TALKING!"

"That," Draco said as he placed Scorpius into the car seat, "was rude."

"You're rude and mean and you made Hermione cry and I don't like you!"

Draco buckled Scorpius into the seat then slammed the door closed. He walked to the driver's side of the car, opened the door, sat in the seat and did not reach for the keys. He leaned back in the seat as Scorpius said,

"I don't wanna talk to you!"

"Good. You and Hermione can start a club since she seems to be so hell-bent on sharing her deepest secrets with you."

"She knows my secrets, too!"

Draco turned around in the seat and asked, "You have secrets?"

Scorpius nodded and pressed his palms over his eyes.

"From me?" asked Draco.

Another nod, and that broke Draco's heart cleanly in two. He said,

"I thought you told me everything. That's what we were supposed to do as a family."

"It's not just my secret. It's somebody else's too."

"Will you tell me now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because Hermione is sad. I won't tell you until she's happy."

"Is it … Bad?"

Scorpius shook his head.

"Fine."

"I don't wanna tell you because you make everything sad. You make you sad, Hermione sad, and me sad. I don' want you to make my secret sad, too."

Draco grumbled low in his throat. He didn't say anything for awhile and Scorpius kept kicking his feet against the bottom of his car seat. He kept crying, saying he didn't want to leave, and Draco stopped listening. Scorpius was nearly six years old and he'd never said things like you're mean and I don't like you. It was so unlike him, but perhaps Draco hadn't been acting like himself, either. The push and pull of Hermione felt odd to him, but given what she said about him not asking about her life … Maybe he'd been pushing himself toward her and pulling himself away, too. They almost never seemed to meet each other in the middle. The grief wasn't gone, but—

Draco jumped a bit as someone knocked on his window. He turned to see Padma standing there. Draco opened the door and huffed,

"What do you want?"

"AUNTIE PADMA!"

Scorpius reached for her with both arms and she smiled over at him.

"Hello, baby blond. Now you," she turned her attention to Draco, "are an ass. But you made a point that we don't often consider how you must feel about things. Or, specifically, the speed at which your relationship has moved. Bastien made the point that Hermione doesn't know you the way the rest of us do so she can't understand the difference she's made. You are moving forward, Draco; I don't want you to believe you aren't."

"Respectfully, Padma," Draco sighed, "I'm sitting in my car in your bloody drive knowing I've just lost another woman I care about because my five-year-old paid more attention to her than I did. Forward does not seem to be the direction of the day."

"You've paid attention to a dead woman for so long that you forgot how to properly love someone who is really in your life."

That hurt because it was true.

"I am not speaking only of Hermione, but of all of us. Bastien is worried about you constantly, hoping you'll find some way to laugh again. You said yourself that your son paid attention to her because he likes her. Hermione should be part of your family the way she is part of Bastien's and Theo's. If things go the way we all hope they go between Blaise and Dean, everyone in your life will have care for Hermione. You need to learn to do that properly."

"I did this so well the first time. I loved my wife with every bit I had to give. I want to do that again, and I wanted to do it for her, but there's so much of me that isn't … I don't know how to say it. I feel half-baked. She gave my wife her proper resting place. Hermione did that, she didn't have to, but she did. When I look at Hermione, all I see is somebody trying too hard too fast for what I am worth."

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

"Probably not."

"Would you like me to give it to you anyway?"

"Yes."

"You are afraid that your wife would hate you for falling in love with another woman."

There was more truth to what Padma was saying that he wanted to admit.

"I think most of me knows that's not true, but the fear is there. I'll give you that. I am a mess."

"Why are you being a mess in front of my house?"

"Because I can't drive right now."

"Would you like Bastien to drive you?

"If he wouldn't mind."

"Scorpius?" Padma asked, "Even though he's being mean, do you still love your dad?"

A tiny voice from the back said, "Yes."

"Will you always love your dad?"

"Yes."

Padma turned her attention to Draco and said, "Sometimes all you have to do is ask." Then she left.

Draco moved to the passenger's side and tossed the keys to Bastien when he slid into the driver's seat. He started the car and said,

"I miss when you had a driver, but I get it."

Draco pulled out his phone and opened the 'Astoria's Favourite Musicals' playlist. He handed Scorpius the phone and the spare pair of wired earbuds from the console.

"Bastien and I are going to have an adult conversation, so you get to listen to music."

"What kind of music?"

"Your mum's favourite music."

"Oh. Okay."

Scorpius put the earbuds in and all their problems were, for a moment, pushed aside. He lifted his tiny feet in time with the rhythm of whichever song the shuffle had chosen. Bastien pulled out of the drive and made a left when he should've made a right.

"Blaise's house is—"

"I'm not taking you to see Blaise. He'll stand there all stoic and beautiful while you continue to think of stupid reasons you shouldn't be with Hermione and he provides no actual help. We've established that Blaise is of no use when it comes to women so we are going to actually solve a problem."

"Hermione's right. I didn't ask about her life much."

"Not that I was listening, but we were all listening, and if you recall Hermione wasn't nearly as upset about that as she was you rejecting her advances. Again."

"What the hell am I meant to do? I touch her and I start thinking about Tori. It's not fair of me to compare them."

"You're upset at yourself for being a man?"

"No—"

"Comparing the last pair of tits you touched to the tits currently in your hands does not mean you're comparing your current girlfriend to your late wife. That's your Neanderthal brain thinking, 'Fuck yeah, an upgrade!' I know you've been out of the game for awhile, but you're not thinking properly. Take me and Padma, right? I still remember the last girl I was with before her. Sarah and I met attending some production I can't remember at the theatre. We found a spare closet and fucked during intermission. Tiny tits but legs for days, mate. Then I met Padma a couple weeks later and bam! One pair of tits for the rest of my life. Even they've changed, though. Her nipples are slightly darker than they were when we met. Her breasts themselves are a bit bigger, not quite as firm, but they bounce a lot more when I fuck her from behind, which I love. Anyway, point is, take it from me, a great proficient in the art female breasts: comparing tits is perfectly normal."

"Is it?" asked Draco.

"What, you don't think women compare our dicks?"

"I wouldn't know; I was fucking nearly everybody that moved in my early twenties. I was comparing lots of things."

"Okay."

"When I tried to kiss Hermione the first time, weeks ago, I stopped because I was afraid of losing her. I was also holding her, you know, nearly about to do it … To go in for it. Then I stopped because I was thinking about kissing Astoria. How it felt."

"Shocking," Bastien replied, his tone mocking. "You're a thirty-four-year-old man who hasn't had sex in years, so when you're nearly about to be intimate with a woman your brain kicks back to the last time you were intimate with a woman. You're not betraying your wife's memory or anything like that. Your dick's connecting the dots."

"Oh." Draco frowned and admitted, "When you put it like that, I feel like an idiot."

"Not an idiot," replied Bastien, "a drama queen. Which is why I am taking you to the only normal people in our family."

"You're taking me to Theo."

"Nah, mate, I'm taking you to Tracey."

.oOo.

Tracey Nott was, as Bastien said, the only truly normal person in their family. She founded a high-tier digital marketing firm shortly after giving birth to the twins. Never the sort to take her time about things. She, Theo, and the twins lived in a nice brick house in Wimbledon. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms, and an outdoor workspace for Theo. It was a perfect little family space, the kids enjoyed school, and they never seemed to want for anything. Draco was so envious of that life; no legacy to uphold, just a happy life in a nice house knowing their finances wouldn't be in dire straits if the roof caved in. As he pulled into the drive, Bastien said,

"I texted Theo to let him know we're coming."

"And why?"

"Nah, my thumbs are not in the mood to type out that novel."

The twins were out doing whatever fourteen-year-olds did. (At fourteen Draco was hosting comedy roasts in the boys' toilets at school. Of the two, Scarlett was the more likely to follow in those footsteps.) Theo was at the door and Tracey was cross-legged in a huge armchair in the living room, aggressively punching at her tablet with a stylus. She didn't look up when she said,

"Theo tells me you've got your head up your arse about Hermione Granger. D'you know what I said?"

Draco answered, "No."

"I said I didn't know you were dating her. Seems like that's something you would mention to your brother. Definitely something you would mention to me."

"We're not necessarily dating. We are … Well, she would term us a 'maybe.'"

Tracey looked up and sighed.

"Sit down and tell me how you fucked up this time."

Draco, Bastien, and Theo crowded onto the sofa across from Tracey. She placed her tablet aside and listened patiently as they shared the story of the past two months. At the end of it all, she had the same look Ginny, Padma, and Parvati had on their faces.

"You loved your wife," said Tracey. "Is anyone anywhere in the world disputing that?"

"No."

"When she died, the last time you saw her, did your wife know that you loved her and will continue to love her?"

"Without question."

"Everyone in your life, then, knew the depth of the love you had for her. That love will never be forgotten. I understand the grief has been permanent for you. I can only imagine what it must be like for your wife's family to literally steal her body away from you. To steal her name. They stole your closure, and I don't think any of us knew how to give that back to you. Hermione seems to have done an excellent job; helping you where we failed. Perhaps it took her new perspective, an outside viewpoint to see what we couldn't. But you must let Astoria rest now."

"How do I do that?" asked Draco.

"By accepting that our family needs to be bigger. You always have had a lot of love to give. Your father took advantage of that, I saw it even while he was in prison. He always shamed you for loving people because he didn't understand what that meant. His love for your mother is an obsession, he is irrevocably tied to her, just as she is tied to him. I've never pretended to understand what exactly that meant because it weirds me out. All of the talk about you loving her in the way your father loved your mother is shit; you are not obsessed with her. If you were you would have thrown yourself at her feet, begged for forgiveness, and, I dunno, bought her a fucking plane or something."

"Private planes are idiotic. The rent to house them, the fuel to use them, and the hassle is not worth it. I would've let her take my credit card to shop for shoes as long as she pleased."

Tracey laughed and said, "You didn't even need to think about that. Right, okay, how about this? You fucked up."

"Yeah."

"You didn't ask Hermione the deeper questions; you did not give her enough opportunities to be vulnerable with you the way that you were vulnerable with her. She felt safe with you, so why did you not feel safe for her?"

"I don't know."

"I do. The truth is that you feel Astoria wasn't safe with you, therefore you cannot be safe for anybody else. You meet people where they are, so why can you not meet Hermione where she is?"

"Because I love her in a way that I was not in love with Tori. Hermione has a lot of issues, and I have issues which are not complementary. They're scary. When she told me to stop trying today, I could feel my heart breaking inside my chest. It hurt me because I was losing her the same way that I lost Tori."

"Hermione is not blameless in this; she pushed you too quickly. When you say you're not ready, she needs to respect that. I think she sees that as rejection when it is only you prying yourself a bit further out of your grief. You're worried, and I know you well enough to know that you are also very embarrassed by how many times you have started something with her and then stopped. So stop stopping."

Draco admitted, "I don't understand what you are trying to tell me."

"I am saying the next time you talk to Hermione, it must be to apologize. You messed up, so you own up to it. Hermione will keep pushing you because she wants you. She is ready, and if you aren't, you have to stay away until you are. Anything else will continue to hurt both of you, but that does not mean your son has to stay away. Keep building your family the way that you can, the way you always have. None of us are actually related. You are not my brother-in-law, except that you are. Our family is weird, but it overlaps with Hermione's enough that it makes sense. Let it make sense."

Draco frowned. Perhaps it was that simple.

"Let it make sense."

.oOo.

Narcissa returned to Malfoy Manor the following Tuesday, early in the evening. Draco knocked and didn't bother waiting for her to permit him entry. He walked into her room, plopped onto the free side of the bed, and rolled until his face was smushed into the pillow. Narcissa guessed,

"Trouble in my absence?"

Draco answered with an emphatic groan into the pillow.

"I see."

"May I speak with you about something personal?"

"Always."

"You know I would never ask anything that would embarrass you unless I had reason."

"I know."

Draco paused for a moment. Perhaps he shouldn't broach the subject. He could wander off never to think about what may or may not have occurred in France. But …

"When Penelope Clearwater was upset with you, she said your working relationship was terminated."

"Yes."

"Does that mean you have a different relationship, as well?"

Draco watched his mother remain completely unaffected as she replied,

"Yes."

"Mother?"

"Son."

Draco summoned every ounce of willpower in his body to ask, "Are you shagging my publicist?"

Narcissa flipped the page in her magazine and said, "No."

"Good." Draco had never been so relieved to be wrong. "That's good—"

"Penelope has been my bit on the side for far longer than she has been your publicist."

Draco seriously considered launching himself out the nearest window and beating himself over the head with a blunt object until he forgot this conversation happened. He didn't know what to say, and the first words out of his mouth were,

"But she's got to be fifteen years younger than you."

"Eighteen," confirmed Narcissa. "I'm certain that is not what is perplexing you about the situation."

"How long?"

"Eight years."

"Eight years?!" shouted Draco. "You cheated on my father?!"

Narcissa slammed the magazine down on the bed and glared at her son.

"Do not even begin to assert I ever did such a thing. Your father knew the entire time, and he approved. He quite liked Penelope."

"Why would he approve?" asked Draco. "He threw me out for even thinking about sex with men. Yet he let you keep a female bit on the side?"

"Your father went to prison for fifteen years and understood I had needs to be met. Penelope was a solution."

"And what is she now?"

Narcissa looked Draco in the eyes and said, "Someday soon, you will understand the allure of having a powerful woman between your thighs." She picked up her magazine and flipped to the next page. "I enjoy Penelope in a personal capacity."

Draco felt his face morph into something between disgust and horror.

"You are shagging my publicist."

"Yes."

Draco sputtered out, "I didn't know Penelope was gay."

"She isn't."

"Then—"

"Penelope isn't my bit on the side because she wants to have sex with me. Penelope is my bit on the side because she wants to be me."

"And you, what? Help her business?"

"No, my son. If I helped her with her business she would be of no use. Everything Miss Clearwater does is independent of me." She amended, "Or it was until she was desperate to keep the Granger girl in the co-anchor spot. That was a unique situation compared to our previous collaborations, but I believed Penelope could utilize my services for purposes separate from my mentorship."

"Mentorship?" asked Draco. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Penelope Clearwater does not come from our world. She had been searching for a way in when she found me. I let her into our lives because she is impressive in hers, and in return she dulls the ache of your father's absence."

"Can I ask you about that?"

Draco watched his mother throw her head back and laugh. He couldn't remember the last time she laughed like that. She playfully whacked him with the magazine and said,

"Oh, my son, neither of us wish for you to hear those details."

"No, I mean to ask you about the grief."

Narcissa pressed her lips together, still smiling, and nodded.

"If you believe it will be helpful, you may ask."

"Can you tell me how she takes away the pain?"

"I understand you are asking about the more personal side of things." Narcissa sighed heavily and stared off into the distance. "The depth of my commitment to your father spans beyond this life. He is my soulmate, be there such a thing. I cannot explain to you the terror I felt when your father died. I hadn't been alone for thirty-three years; I always had him. He died and it was as if gravity was crushing me, while another force was pulling me forward." She paused before admitting, "You pull me forward, my son, which is why I hoped you would find something with the Granger girl. Then I will be certain your heart will not know the same loneliness as mine."

"Thank you." Draco looked at his mother and began to put the pieces together. "I am grateful you thought to choose her. I don't believe I would feel this way for anyone else."

"Yes." Narcissa placed her hand on Draco's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "It is my job as your mother, and also quite literally a portion of my income."

Draco laughed.

"Are you planning to charge me for your matchmaking services?"

"Absolutely. Romilda's apoplectic every time your paths seem to diverge so you are funding her anger management."

"You did not answer my question."

"I'm afraid I've forgotten it."

"Penelope," replied Draco, "and how she stops the grief."

"Right."

Draco watched his mother lean back onto the pillows and close her eyes. She looked older, then. He always saw her as terrifying and bright and playing five-dimensional chess that made everyone around her look rather witless. But right then she looked tired.

"As I said, Penelope wishes to be me. Romilda to a lesser extent, but the best substitute for your father's love is young women who see me as their unattainable goal. When Penelope does what I ask of her, she does it because someday she hopes to be powerful enough for someone to do the same for her. It's selfish, I know, but I was adored for a very long time by an incredibly powerful man. This is the only substitute I have."

Draco admitted, "That makes sense to me."

Narcissa opened her eyes and said, "It's not of much use to you."

"Perhaps it is."

"My son, after thirty-four years I am certain you are not the sort to keep a bit on the side."

"No, of course not, but Penelope helps you to see your power reflected back at you. Yes?"

"That is correct."

"Astoria wasn't like that. She was the calming presence for me, this fairytale dream of a person. The dream is over and I've been left with what I thought was a nightmare. Looking at it with open eyes, though, I suppose it's just reality. This is the world. Nobody cares for it quite like Hermione, and in pulling me out of my grief she's showing me the kind of love that can exist in her way."

"A more difficult love can be more rewarding."

"Can be."

"Have you apologized?"

"I don't know how."

"Figure it out, and when you do, make it clear you respect her wishes. Give her control of the relationship. If you love her, you must trust that she knows when it is best to move forward and when to slow down. That is how you respect her power, you give her the means to begin the relationship again along with the means to end it as she chooses."

"Am I meant to be her plaything? Is that love?"

"You're not listening. Do you believe your father was a toy to me?"

"Of course not."

"He trusted me to keep this family afloat. You have to keep the Granger girl above water and instead you continue to drag her down into your grief alongside you. You need to respect that she knows the world in a way you don't. She guides you through it and you protect her heart as she does. That's the trust, my son, the tradeoff."

Draco's voice cracked a bit when he asked, "Why can't I move on? Why can't I—"

"Because it's a difficult thing to admit the world has changed around you. But your son deserves a whole family, Draco. As of this moment, he has half a father at best."

"I think that's it," he admitted. "If I allow myself to move on, it's admitting that I could've moved on years ago and chose not to. I feel as though I've abandoned my son. You should've heard him screaming for Hermione as we left; I don't think I've felt that sort of pain since Astoria died. Knowing he'd rather be with her than with me."

"I don't believe that at all."

"No?"

"Scorpius did not want you to be alone. If you left Hermione Granger, that would leave you alone in his eyes."

Draco sighed.

"I want him to see me happy."

"Not to state the obvious, my son, but that would require you to be happy."

"It feels strange, you know? Looking at Hermione and seeing how I might, finally, find a way to do that."

"The Granger girl has done her part, my son. It is past time for you to do yours."