Pulling his son off Hermione, all Draco could think was, "She shouldn't be leaving."

Her reason for leaving was taking the Potter boy back, but he rode with Padma and Parvati. Draco kicked himself for letting her leave the moment she pulled out of the drive. Scorpius's tiny arms were outstretched toward the car and it took every bit of willpower not to run to the garage and grab a car to speed after Hermione. They'd been happy together and his heart ached without her.

Draco made his way to the gardens with Scorpius on his heels. Neither of them said anything, both needing space to think. To live in the high of the weekend while accepting that it ended. Draco sat on the bench by the fountain and Scorpius half-sat half-fell onto the gravel pathway. The rushing water from the fountain calmed Draco's racing thoughts. Hermione decided to leave, and that was the end of it.

"Dad?"

Draco was surprised to hear Scorp's voice.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"About kisses?"

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. This wouldn't go away, it seemed. He hoped Scorpius would forget about that moment in the hallway, but of course he wouldn't. Not when he was seeing his father in love for the first time. Draco nodded and stared resolutely at the fountain.

"Yes, you can ask about kisses."

"Sometimes when you kiss Hermione you're apart. Today you were," Scorpius clapped his hands together so there was no space between them, "together. Are close kisses better than not-close kisses?"

"Well."

Draco hummed softly to himself. What did he remember about age five? Not much. He was rather into cars at that age, so Scorpius came by it honestly. He also liked looking for seashells on the beach. At five years old he had no interest in romance or kissing or anything of the sort. What was a five-year-old meant to know about making out with someone?

Nothing, clearly.

All the pressures of fatherhood seemed to weigh on Draco at this one moment. If he answered wrong, he would be a terrible dad for all the years to come. But if he got it right? If he found the proper answer, perhaps whatever relationship he was building with Scorpius would be on steadier footing.

"I suppose it's like this. You and the Potter boy—"

"Al."

"—yes, Al, you have friends at school, yes?"

"YES! There is Rose and Jamie and Katie—"

"When you're around Rose and Jamie and Katie, then, if you want to speak to Albus what do you do?"

Scorpius shrugged.

"I say words."

"Out loud?"

Scorpius nodded and insisted, "I say words so everyone hears."

"Exactly. But if you wished to tell Albus a secret, one that was just for you, what would you do?"

"Scoot close and whisper."

"Exactly. Those kisses that are further apart are for when we are around other people. The kisses like the ones you saw? Those kisses are for me and Hermione alone."

"Oh." Scorpius nodded solemnly and said, "Whisper kisses."

Draco tried desperately not to laugh as he confirmed, "Yes, I suppose you can think of them like that."

"I'm sorry for seeing."

"I wasn't your fault, Scorp; I should have closed the door."

"I'm still sorry."

Draco wondered, "Can I ask you a question?"

"YES!" Scorpius grinned. "I love questions!"

"I am beginning to notice that." Draco laughed, but the moment turned somber. "What is it that I do to make you believe I am so unhappy? You said I need your happiness more than you do. Why do you believe that?"

Scorpius shrugged.

"I dunno."

"Give it a think."

Scorpius began picking at the grass, pulling blades out of the dirt just to cast them aside. He said,

"I got friends to make me happy. Al makes me happy a lot because he's my best friend and he picks me up when I fall down. I fall down a lot. You have lots of friends but you don' smile, you don' laugh, you don' visit … Friends come here, but you never go to friends."

"The last time I went to visit Bastien didn't go very well."

"Sometimes my friends get mad at me but we hug and it's good."

"I laugh." Draco insisted, "Bas makes me laugh."

"No."

"Yes, he does."

Scorpius shook his head.

"Uncle Bastien makes you laugh when Hermione's here. He doesn't make you laugh without Hermione. She makes you happy and I don' wan' her to leave because happy dad is better than sad dad."

Grief. It wasn't sadness, it was the indelible grief that lived inside Draco. Scorpius caught onto it because it was all he had ever known of his father. Draco felt guilty and didn't quite know how to explain the difference. He asked,

"Can I talk about your mum?"

Scorpius kicked his legs out and fell backward with a tiny oof. Looking up at the impossibly clear sky, he conceded,

"Okay."

Draco slid off the bench and laid in the grass, next to his son. Staring up at the sky, the words came tumbling out.

"Your mum was a singer. She sang all the time and it was loud, Scorp. So loud I could hear her in our bedroom if she was singing in the kitchen. She used to make up songs for the staff when they were having a particularly shitty time. She would serenade house staff with an operatic version of 'Happy Birthday.' Her voice is forever in my mind, in my memories." Draco fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and asked, "Would you like to hear her?"

"Okay."

Draco unlocked his phone and opened the folder he'd been dreading for nearly six years. He hadn't touched it, couldn't bear to hear her voice or see her so happy. He opened the folder and found the one video he had of Astoria and their son. Even seeing the screencap had him crying. He didn't bother trying to wipe the tears away, instead handing the phone to Scorpius and pressing the play button.

"Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue … And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me—My God, Draco are you filming me?"

Draco recalled how she playfully pushed him away. As a new father, Draco wanted to record everything. Every moment, every breath his son took was worthy of being committed to film. Astoria was holding their son against her chest, half-sitting and half-laying on the hospital bed. Scorpius did look like a little cherry tomato, wrapped up in a soft blanket with his squished face resting on Tori's shoulder.

"I'm all sweaty, darling. My hair's a mess—"

"You just gave birth, Tori, I think we can excuse your hair."

"He's got your hair, you know. Not even my curls could contaminate the Malfoy gene pool."

"It's a good-looking pool."

"If you can get the goop out of his eyes, you'll see he's got your eyes, too. This baby just came out of me and if I didn't know better, I'd say we cloned you."

"I disagree. That boy is Malfoy on the outside and all you on the inside. He came out screaming perfectly on key."

Astoria laughed softly and continued to sing, "Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops …"

"Can you play it again?"

Draco shook himself out of the memory and turned to see Scorpius holding the phone out toward him. Draco pressed the play button and watched his son see his mother for the first time. Hear her for the first time. Scorpius watched intently, holding the phone up above his face with the sky as a backdrop. When Astoria stopped singing, Scorpius held the phone to his chest and said,

"That's me?"

"Yes, son, that is you and your mum together. It's the only one I have, and I am so sorry for that. I should've recorded more, but I didn't think … None of us thought … She died a day later."

Scorpius's nose scrunched up and his lips began to tremble as he held back his own tears.

"You're sure it's not my fault?"

"Positive. She loved you so much, and when she died all that love went with her. I've tried very hard to give you more, to make sure you have so many people who love you, but it's not the same. It's not your mum and it will never be the same. What you've seen me go through all these years, and what you feel right now isn't sadness. It's grief."

Scorpius sobbed, "I dunno what that means."

Draco flopped back onto his back and stared at a cloud beginning to move into sight.

"You were sad this afternoon when Al left, right?"

"Mhmm. Yes."

"But you know he can come back. You can visit him. You'll see him again. The same with Hermione, and Uncle Blaise, and Bastien and Padma and all the rest. You will see them again, even though you are sad they are gone right now. Grief is what you feel when you know someone isn't coming back. You won't see them again. It lives with you and it hurts so much, but I never knew a way to tell anybody how it hurt. That is why smiles are so hard to come by."

"You can tell me."

"Hmm?"

Scorpius said, "You can tell me how it hurts."

"Oh." Draco cleared his throat and said, "I suppose it hurts most when I see things meant for two people. Two pillows on the bed. Two sinks in the bathroom. Those sorts of things. It is like there is an empty space, a gap in all these places I could hardly look at because it hurt so much. Then Hermione came 'round and needed the second pillow. She washed her hands in the second sink. Those spaces aren't empty anymore, which is why I can smile again."

"Okay."

"But she …" Draco grimaced. "She could be, I think. If you wished for her to be your mum in a different way. Do you want Hermione to be your mum?"

"I dunno." Scorpius sniffled. "I dunno what a mum is s'posed to do. Al says his mum is always there to say goodnight and she's on telly a lot. Hermione said goodnight and she's on telly a lot."

"It is about how she makes you feel. What do you feel when Hermione is with you?"

"I feel smart. I like that she likes my drawings."

"What else?" wondered Draco.

"Love." Scorpius repeated, "Lots of love because Hermione does nice things. We shopped for shoes and that was really nice. I like shoes. And cures."

"Cures?"

"For feet! The lady rubbed my feet and it tickled."

"Pedicures." Draco laughed through the tears, realizing Hermione must have taken him on a shoe shopping adventure she promised all those weeks earlier. "God, I love you, Scorp. I don't know if I tell you that enough. I love you and I want nothing more than for you to be happy. However, you said it is easier for you to be happy if I am happy, and I think I have to make a real go at it, now."

"Grief is bad." Scorpius sniffled. "I don't like it. My heart hurts."

Draco sat up and pulled his son into a tight hug. He held Scorpius and didn't quite know what else to do. This was grief. It was this. Just … this. Scorpius asked,

"When does it stop hurting?"

Draco shook his head and admitted, "I don't believe it ever does."

Scorpius paused for a long while. He shifted in Draco's arms so he was sitting on Draco's lap with his head resting against Draco's chest. This was an important moment for them. Draco couldn't put his finger on why, exactly, but this meant something. Perhaps it was that he never had moments like this with his own father. His own memories were of a stern, proud, distant man. Draco hoped that Scorpius would remember him as proud and present, if a little sad. Draco was surprised to hear his son ask,

"Does Hermione make your heart hurt less?"

"She does."

"Maybe that's what a mum's s'posed to do."

Draco paused for a moment before replying, "That is exactly what a mum is meant to do."

.oOo.

It was Thursday, four days since he last held Hermione. That was how Draco began to keep track of time. Five days since he shagged Hermione. Four days since he held Hermione. Two days since they last spoke on the phone.

"May I come in?"

Draco looked up from his computer to see Romilda standing in the office doorway. He nodded for her to enter and continued to stare at the spreadsheet in front of him. The lines began to thin and blur together. He hated the minutiae, the mindless meetings he had to attend solely because someone had to be there. Perhaps it was time to find another someone to handle some of the many somethings piling up.

"I've got you a second date."

Romilda took two steps into the room and stopped. Draco looked over and noted she seemed a bit more stressed than usual. His mother had been a bit … off. In rather ill-defined ways, but off nonetheless. Romilda was a potential replacement for Penelope, Draco supposed, then shuddered at the thought. Romi was a friend, and friends did not shag their friends' mums. Draco blurted out,

"You're not planning to have sex with my mother, are you?"

Romilda frowned.

"I want Narcissa to respect me and I would never shag my boss."

"You do have a crush on my mother, though."

"Of course." Romi admitted, "I have a crush on your girlfriend, your mum, your mum's girlfriend … If you stopped surrounding yourself with beautiful, intellectually curious women I would probably get more work done. As it stands, Hermione plans to introduce me to Roger Davies." She smiled. "He's quite …" She shook her head. "Anyway. Penelope Clearwater seems to have left your mum rather heartbroken and my job is to make sure the business doesn't fall apart whilst she falls apart. It's rather sad."

"Should I be doing something?" asked Draco. "She's my mother, I feel like this should be my responsibility."

"Parents don't work like that. Your mother put herself in this mess. Heartache is heartache and she can pull herself through it. Do you expect any less?"

"No."

"Now, about your date—"

"I have a girlfriend."

"Yes."

"A second date isn't necessary."

Romilda huffed, "You paid for three, you get three or you go until I am successful. It's in the contract!"

Draco asked, "I signed a contract?"

"I lumped it in with a few others so you wouldn't look twice."

"Did someone say contracts?"

An all-too-familiar head peeked in around the doorframe. Draco was out of his chair in half a second, immediately shedding the past fifteen years of his life. He brushed past Romi and grabbed this tiny woman by the waist. There were so many moments from his youth he hadn't thought about in years, and she brought back the fun bits of Draco he left in his early twenties. He spun her around in a tight hug before placing her down and saying,

"If it isn't the cunt from Camden?!"

"Only if I'm talking to my favourite queer in Wiltshire!"

"No fucking way! Pans, what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I'm your date this afternoon."

Draco turned to Romilda and said, "You thought I needed a date and grabbed the first lesbian you found?"

"Oi, I am an elite lesbian, mind you. This is premiere league pussy."

Romilda sighed heavily.

"Pansy mentioned you two knew each other, though it feels like I'm listening to a conversation between boys in year ten." She slapped a few papers down on Draco's desk and said, "This is a job interview. Chief of Staff."

"Oh."

Pansy said, "That's my CV, though I'm overqualified to help your sorry arse. Already done that ten years of my life."

Draco hedged a bit before plastering a smile on his face. He nodded. Nodded some more. Nodded too much, most likely.

"Okay, I can take a look and … Yeah, an interview. Alright then."

Romilda left and shouted over her shoulder, "Thank me later!"

Pansy made for the small conference table, and it felt like they hadn't been apart a day. She was glowing, happier than Draco had ever seen her. Pansy's tits had certainly filled out, she looked more like a woman than when he'd seen her well over a decade earlier. Her hair was longer, a bit past her shoulders, and her makeup was much more subtle than it used to be. She looked really good. Romilda could place another file in the "beautiful, intellectually curious women" folder. Draco took the chair across from Pansy and said,

"Thank you for the flowers you sent to my father's funeral."

Her reply was a firm, "I did it out of respect. Never forgave him for what he did to you."

"I know."

"How is your mum?"

"I dunno, to be honest." Draco conceded, "The past several weeks, I've learned how little I actually knew of my mother."

"You're so much like her." Pansy smiled and nodded to say, "Even now, I can see it. Every single one of our friends won't speak to me, but she taught you loyalty. That hug when I walked in meant more to me than I could say. An ocean away, I was shocked this Romilda Vane girl found me."

"Romi has a career as a private investigator just waiting for her."

"How is your son?"

Draco sighed and admitted, "Blaise was more of a father than I have been to him. I am trying to build a relationship with him now, but he's only ever seen me as a widower."

"Does Hermione Granger have something to do with this change?"

"She has everything to do with it."

"Good. She'll be good for you." Pansy said, "I heard you and Blaise finally got together a couple years after I left. How was that?"

"Fantastic. I'm glad we didn't do it until we were committed. I fell in love. He dumped me, you know, not the other way 'round."

Pansy could not hide her surprise. She sputtered,

"Seriously?"

Draco nodded.

"Blaise has been in love with you as long as I've known him. I can hardly believe he dumped you."

"Twice. He rejected me twice. He ended our relationship, and the second rejection was a bit … A bit more difficult for both of us."

"Ooh," Pansy teased, "is this something you wish to discuss?"

"It came about in a rather unfortunate way. Bastien got engaged to his wife less than a week after meeting her. A few months on, they invited everyone to one of Blaises's villas for an elopement."

"Good venue, that."

"My soul just shattered, Pans. I couldn't function. Bas, of all people, probably the only person I've ever met who slept with more people than I have … Bas was getting married and I had nobody. I got that text and drove to Blaise's house without thinking. All I felt was the emptiness, Astoria's presence left a giant hole in my life that Scorpius is too small to fill. The best decision of my entire life was not putting him in the car. I left him with my mother because somewhere deep down I knew I wasn't fit to drive. It was pouring rain when I finally made it to Blaise's house."

"Oh," Pansy's face fell, "I can tell where this is going."

"I knocked on his door, drenched, and when he opened it I confessed my love for him. Not even inside, I was still on his steps. I told him he was as good as a father to my son, so let's make it official. I love him, I want him in my life for as long as I'm alive, so marry me. I asked him to marry me so my son could have two parents who love him. Then I kissed him."

"Like a gentle—"

"No, I pinned him to the wall and was getting quite handsy. Blaise reciprocated for a moment before pushing me away." Draco swallowed thickly before revealing, "I've never seen that kind of despair before. Every bit of his world seemed to come crashing down and I didn't understand. He told me this was the most selfish thing I'd ever done. Blaise said he was Scorp's godfather not because he loved me, but because he loved my son and wanted to make sure all the love my son lost was balanced by the love he gained. Me snogging him was a cruel reminder of the love we could never share, and then he kicked me out."

"Oh."

"We didn't speak to each other for well over a month, and neither of us went to Bastien's elopement for fear the other would. Blaise later told me that he gave up Catholicism because God had turned our love into pain, and he couldn't worship any longer."

Pansy gasped, "No! Blaise gave up religion?"

Draco nodded.

"If you forced me to guess, I'd have thought Blaise would fall in love with a woman before he'd step away from the church. I can't believe it."

"I left his house, crying, could hardly see through the rain, and drove myself into a tree halfway home."

"Oh, God, Draco. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Blaise has found his soulmate, Bas has the most incredible marriage, Theo is exactly the same as you remember, and then there's me."

"You're carrying on." Pansy insisted, "That is much more than most people would have done."

"Tell me about you, then. How did you get to be qualified for this at thirty-four?"

"I worked my way up the ladder honestly, by taking advantage of dishonest people."

"I don't understand."

"I was an assistant in operations at a company when they quietly let go of the operations manager. The CEO was more than a little handsy, and his subordinates intended to replace her with someone he couldn't go for. Also, someone who wouldn't be afraid to smack him if he did. QED they promoted the office lesbian. They claimed diversity because they had a gay Korean girl in management, which is three boxes in one. They got the beautiful window dressing in management at twenty-four without the risk of me being involved in something inappropriate."

"You were always good at playing the system."

Pansy grimaced.

"I deserve that. When the CEO moved companies three years later, he took me along. Promoted me to chief of staff, and two years afterward I found out someone else was in the same situation at another company. Instead of firing the girl, they fired the CEO. I tipped off my boss; he landed a great gig at a larger company and took me along for the ride. It's been four years there, and Miss Vane called wondering whether I would consider a position helping you manage the day-to-day."

"Hmm," Draco wondered, "why would you? You've been doing great over in America—"

"I'm sick of the green card struggle, and I would like to come home."

"I believe the second, not so much the first."

Pansy rolled her eyes and said, "It's been fine. I, um … This new company is in New York City." She shifted a bit in her seat. "I fell in with the wrong type of people when I arrived. I was around a lot more cocaine than I was everywhere else. Temptation was overpowering, I lost my way a bit … again."

"How long have you been clean?"

"Four years next month. I got to New York, tried to make friends, spiraled for a couple weeks, then went to rehab. Again. I'd been clean for well over six years before then."

Draco nodded and said, "I believe you."

"I've been trying very hard these past thirteen years. I made mistakes, I know, but I am good at my job."

Draco skimmed through Pansy's CV and his eyes nearly popped out. This was … genuinely impressive. All the women in his life seemed so accomplished. He and Theo were, comparatively, the bottom of the bin. Pansy had climbed the ladder incredibly quickly. Chief of staff at a major real estate firm? Before that, chief of staff at a fashion house's Los Angeles office. Master's degree from UCLA. Draco frowned and asked,

"Certified rock climbing instructor?"

"You get a great view of women's backsides when they're working their way up. I was climbing so often, I felt I might as well make a secondary career option from it. I have missed the California sunlight."

"You might actually be qualified to do this job."

"I know I am."

Draco's voice cracked when he said, "But you know I can't hire you."

Pansy nodded.

"I thought not. It's been thirteen years, but—"

"You nearly got Bastien kicked out of uni, Pans. Worse, you nearly got him banned from boxing. We don't even talk about you anymore because it hurts to remember what happened."

There was so much pain on Pansy's face that Draco could hardly look at her.

"Look, Pans, I know it wasn't really you. The drugs did a lot of things using you as a vessel, but while your conscience may not have done those things, your hands did. There's no undoing that."

"I know."

"Bastien is part of my family, and if I hired you it would be a betrayal to him."

"I understand."

"The kindness you showed when Tori died." Draco shook his head, resolving not to cry. He couldn't keep crying every damn time he thought about her. "Your letters kept coming every week for two years. There were times when I could barely look at my son I was so deep in grief, yet knowing I would receive a letter from you kept me connected to that part of myself I had lost. I think now I can put the pieces together as to why you stopped sending them."

"Shame, mostly." Pansy admitted, "I was proud I kept myself clean for so long. I relapsed and I felt exactly as I had back then. I knew using Bastien the way I did was wrong, but I did. I am still ashamed, and I felt more shame. I couldn't keep writing to you knowing I let myself become that person again."

"You know, I think … I may recall …" Draco left the table and rushed behind the desk to pull up his computer. He scrolled through his emails and mumbled, "I fucking hate Sotheby's, they've driven me mad the past few months. But I do know the COO at their Central London office and he mentioned to me recently that he's looking for someone … Yes!" Draco forwarded the email to the address listed on Pansy's CV. "Looking for a deputy, but chief of staff as a title may be just as suitable."

Pansy pulled up the email on her phone and scrolled through the job description as Draco made his way back to the chair opposite her. She asked,

"You'd really get me an interview?"

Draco laughed.

"You missed the point, Pans. If you wish to return to London, I'll get you the bloody job."

"Really?" Pansy asked, skeptical. "You'd vouch for me even after I told you I relapsed twice after getting clean?"

"I would hire you myself if I could." Draco nudged Pansy's foot with his own. "You were one of the boys, after all."

Pansy blushed.

"I never found a group of men I fit into the way I fit in with the lot of you. The drugs ended that, and I regret it more than anything else. But I am ready to come home."

"Is it what's best for you?" asked Draco. "I only want you here if London is better. Eventually you might run into Bas and you'll have to deal with that. I don't want cocaine to be how you cope with it."

"I've learned not to make promises. The temptation always seems manageable until it isn't. London is a cesspool of bad memories in my soul, and I'd like to make new life here. Home is home, and no amount of sunlight or gluten-free tofu burgers or late nights on Broadway can change the fact that I am and always will be your cunt from Camden."

Draco paused. She brought up a good point—was he willing to vouch for her? To the assholes as Sotheby's? Absolutely. To Bastien? That was far more murky. Looking at her at that moment, Draco didn't see the girl who ditched her life at twenty and made for the States. He saw a young professional who made mistakes, but he also saw a young woman owning up to them. If London was still in her soul, who was Draco to keep it from her?

"You look good, Pans."

"I feel good."

"Then perhaps London will do you some good."

.oOo.

Six days later. Wednesday. Eleven days since he shagged Hermione. Ten days since he held Hermione. Three days since they last spoke on the phone.

Draco took Wednesday and Thursday off, leaving operations with a combination of people. Romilda was right to bring in a candidate for COO, even if her choice was an impossible one to make. He resolved to pick up the search with renewed intensity when he returned to Malfoy Manor on Friday. Wednesday afternoon, Draco traveled to London and left Scorpius with Parvati. She could use the company.

At three o'clock, Draco sent Hermione a text: Have fun tonight.

Hermione replied ten minutes later with: I'd rather spend my night with you.

Come to Blaise's afterward. We're having boys night so we can watch you destroy this bloke live on air.

Dean already invited me. I'll pick you up after I am finished with Ten.

An overnight at your flat?

If you like.

[Aubergine emoji] [Water droplets emoji] [Firework emoji]?

[Thumbs-up]

Draco grinned. The "days since he shagged Hermione" counter would get a much-needed reset. Boys night happened at Blaise's house because he had a giant sofa and a swivel chair large enough to fit two grown men. Draco was on the cushion nearest the door, Bastien took up far more than his fair share of cushion in the middle, with Theo on the other end. Blaise and Dean cuddled together on the swivel chair. Bastien held the popcorn bucket so both Draco and Theo could reach in when needed. Cans of beer were scattered about the coffee table in front of them.

Looking around, Draco couldn't recall the last time he'd been alone with his friends like this. No agenda, no party, no need to be dressed properly. Dean was leaning back, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his arm rested around Blaise's shoulders. Blaise wore a shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal his chest and Dean could not stop glancing down. Every time he caught himself, he looked up at the heavens, exasperated. Draco smiled softly, happy Blaise had finally found someone who complemented him in the best way.

Bastien, however, was in a polo that hugged his arms. Draco hated when he did that because Bastien was his best mate, but damn he had massive biceps. Blaise was better about hiding his approval, but Draco knew the difference between "looking at my best mate" and "looking at a handsome man." Bas was, infuriatingly, both. Theo shifted awkwardly at the other end of the sofa. He was wearing trackies, a loose t-shirt, and plush socks because he hated the cool touch of Blaise's wood floors against his feet. Theo admitted,

"I feel like Bastien and I are the straight meat in the middle of a very gay sandwich."

Bas looked to his left, then toward Blaise and Dean at his right. He shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah, eat your heart out, boys. This dick is exclusive property of Padma Patil."

Dean Thomas admitted, "This may be the first time I've ever been with friends when I'm not in the minority."

"That's really fucking sad, Dean." Draco laughed and repeated, "Really fucking sad."

Theo insisted, "I feel like I'm straight enough to cancel out Blaise, though."

Blaise conceded, "That is true. If you were any more traditional you would walk around in a powdered wig."

"Right, yeah, and if you were any more gay you'd be posting videos of you shagging your boyfriend on Instagram."

Dean blanched.

"I think the school would have some opinions about that."

They all chuckled and watched as Hermione entered the frame with Gilderoy Lockhart. Draco's heart did a little flip. He used to watch her do these interviews out of curiosity and these stakes were new to him. He needed Hermione to succeed because she was Hermione. He loved her, and he wanted this for her. She needed to understand being soft at home and a badass on camera were not mutually exclusive realities. She was wearing one of her bow blouses—oh. That was the same blouse she wore on Draco's birthday. The one he nearly ripped the buttons off in the back of Colin's BMW. Draco said,

"I made out with her in that top."

"Yeah," teased Bastien, "which of you was wearing it?"

Draco nudged him playfully and said, "Fuck off."

"Good evening, Mr. Lockhart. It is a joy to have you and your charming smile on set."

Draco's stomach turned. Hermione would never say something like that and mean it. Lockhart, though, bought in completely. He shook her hand and said,

"It is good to be here, Ms. Granger."

As they took their seats, Hermione said, "Apa khabar?"

Lockhart looked up at her, flummoxed, as the translation appeared at the bottom of the screen. How are you? He nodded and waited for Hermione to speak again. She said,

"Takpe."

Never mind.

"Did you not pick up much of the language during your time in Malaysia, Mr. Lockhart?"

"Oh, Gilderoy, please."

Bastien laughed. "Ooh, hoo, this sly bastard isn't going to answer the question. He thinks he's got Hermione bested."

"Gilderoy, then, I am quite excited to speak with you this evening. You may not know, but I went to university in Singapore."

"Oh!" Lockhart seemed genuinely surprised, but not perturbed. "Which university did you attend?"

"Nanyang Technical University. I have a joint degree in communication studies and governance and international relations. Naturally, I was fascinated by your book. Your travels were remarkably similar to my own, I recognized many of the locales you referenced. Which of the spots you visited was your favourite?"

The next ten minutes of the conversation seemed quite banal. She announced a brief break and Draco leaned back, curious as to what Hermione had planned. Her usual method of attack was to, well, attack. Theo and Blaise seemed to grow less interested, but Bastien shook his head.

"Nah, she's lulling him into a false sense of security. I do it all the time with worthy opponents. Here's the thing, this guy's well-liked. Hermione knows her weakness is likeability so she has to ingratiate herself with the audience before kicking him in the dick."

"Switching topics entirely," Draco cleared his throat and stared down into the popcorn bowl, "Pansy paid me a visit last week."

Bastien didn't react as though he'd heard. Draco added,

"She's done rather well for herself over in America but intends to return to London."

Still no reaction. Draco nodded and said,

"Right then."

"What the bloody hell do you want me to say, mate?" snapped Bastien. "What do you want me to say? That I'm glad for her? Fuck that."

"No, I only—"

"She nearly ruined my life. Look at everything I've got going for me. I'm living exactly the life I want to live and she nearly took it all before I had it. Pansy better pray she doesn't run into me on the street because I am not going to control my emotions around that fucking parasite of a woman."

Draco insisted, "I think you're overreacting—"

"Overreacting?!" Bastien shouted.

Draco had forgotten just how terrifying Bastien could be. He tossed the popcorn bowl onto the table which shook when the bowl landed. Dean jumped and placed his foot on the ground. It seemed like the rage made Bastien even larger. Draco shifted further from him, toward the arm of the sofa. Bastien would never hurt him, but all the same …

"Unlike you and Theo, I don't have a family name to bail me out of certain circumstances. Unlike you and Blaise, I don't have money to bail me out of certain circumstances. All fucking four of us were there and Pansy hid the coke on me. The only one of us with no fucking resources! I never carried cocaine because it would get me banned from boxing. Pansy knew as much and still chose me. The fight me and my dad had to go through just to keep me in school? No. No, that's unforgiveable. It could be fifteen years or fifty and my mind will not change."

Draco nodded.

"Understood."

"So we're not talking about her."

"Understood."

Bastien slumped backward on the sofa and seemed to deflate against the cushion. Blaise had situated himself the slightest bit in front of Dean, who seemed a bit shocked by the outburst. Theo squeezed Bastien's shoulder.

"Your anger is justified. None of us are saying you're wrong."

Bas nodded.

"But if you could try not to scare the hell out of Dean, that would be best."

"She nearly cost me three degrees, my job, my wife …" Bastien shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Hermione came back on the telly, but nobody seemed quite as vested at that moment. Singapore didn't matter as much when Bastien was about to have an aneurysm. Bas asked,

"What did she say?"

"Oh." Draco tucked some of his hair behind his ear and said, "She asked about me and Blaise. How, um, how that … We …" Draco glanced at Dean, who seemed frozen by some combination of curiosity and fear that Bastien might actually explode. "Why Blaise isn't religious anymore."

Blaise stood and made for the kitchen. He mumbled,

"I need more alcohol."

"You told her about that?" asked Bastien. "Really?"

"She deserved to know."

"No, she fucking didn't. She doesn't deserve to know anything other than Blaise has a fantastic boyfriend, you have a badass girlfriend who is about to destroy this blond bloke's career on national television, and Theo's still married to Tracey."

Dean piped in with, "I didn't know Blaise was ever religious."

The silence that came over the other three men in the room was instant. Hermione's voice cut through, but Draco didn't much care. He glanced at Bastien, who glanced at Theo, who shrugged. Dean wondered,

"Is this something Blaise should tell me about himself?"

Blaise reentered the room and appeared over Draco's shoulder, offering another can of beer. Draco accepted and popped it open before chugging half in a single go.

"Three years ago, Draco asked me to marry him." Blaise sat on the arm of the sofa. "I said no."

Dean looked at Blaise and asked, "What does that matter?"

No one said anything, and Dean realized …

"You wanted to say yes."

Blaise cracked open his own beer and couldn't meet his boyfriend's gaze. Dean wondered,

"Why did you say no?"

"Because I knew someone better would come along."

"And here I am," replied Dean. He looked around and said, "You all are so afraid of something you have no reason to fear. Did you truly believe I would be offended by Malfoy asking Blaise to marry him? God, just read through the comments on his Instagram; gay men across the globe ask for that every day."

Draco insisted, "I think I'm a bit different—"

"You're not."

Draco felt that blow to his pride more intensely than any punch Bastien could hope to land. Dean continued,

"The three of you are Blaise's best friends, and I would like to be part of this group. I've had a very good time this evening, and I quite honestly could not care any less that you," Dean pointed to Draco, "asked him," he pointed to Blaise, "to marry you three years ago. Blaise did not know me three years ago. Malfoy, you went to him in some combination of grief and desperation. Evidently Hermione is into that, but I have not and will never consider you a threat to my relationship."

Draco opened his mouth but found himself speechless.

"Bastien, I believe you are being harsh toward this Pansy person, but I do not begrudge you those feelings. My ex-husband took my life away from me and I can tell you that however low you believe you would feel, it's even lower. Watching your life crumble like that is a terrible thing."

"Thank you."

"However, I know now that my ex-husband made a mistake and regrets it. Once you step out of the pain, it allows you to more fully experience the things and the people you love. My first visit here, on that night Blaise left me at the gate and I remember thinking, 'He's looking at me the way I used to look at Seamus. Zabini is looking at me wondering whether he is enough. I have to go back and show him he is enough.' That's why I turned around, because I finally stepped out of the pain of my divorce. Letting go is the reason I am here right now. Something you might consider before this Pansy person officially makes her return."

Bastien said, "Blaise, I hate that you found somebody more well-adjusted than me."

"I like him," added Theo.

Draco had nothing to add, nothing to say, no words to form. Being equated to someone lusting after Blaise on social media was a low blow. They loved each other. To have that tossed out as if he was someone who didn't matter?

Theo said, "Silence from the blond end of the sofa."

Draco blurted out, "I am not some bloody twink on Instagram!"

"I never said you were," replied Dean. "Your marriage proposal is as good to me as theirs. You are the father to Blaise's godson, you are his deepest friend, of course you matter to me. Your desire to marry him doesn't."

Draco chugged the rest of his beer in one go and stole one from Blaise's hand. He sighed and hissed,

"God, I've been so pathetic."

Nobody contradicted him. Instead, Bastien grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. Draco returned his attention to the television as Blaise moved back to the swivel chair. Hermione asked Lockhart,

"During your travels to Malaysia, what was your favourite spot to visit?"

Bastien said, "There it is. She's setting it up now."

Draco watched as Hermione leaned forward the slightest bit. She was so clearly priming him for a grand reveal, but Lockhart was charming. He'd ingratiated himself to the audience, and then …

"The Snake Temple would have to be my favourite place. It's a temple with beautiful gardens, incredible architecture, and live snakes all around. I've got photographs—"

"How interesting you chose something so close to the airport," offered Hermione.

Bastien sat up and insisted, "Here it comes. She's done priming, she's about to go for a real jab."

Lockhart remained unphased as he said, "Malaysia is the sort of country in which you can find notes of the culture around every corner. Yes, even within two miles of the airport."

"From the way you describe it in your book, I am surprised you did not claim Mount Kinabalu as your favourite place. Your words made me regret never having made it to the summit, as I'm not much for hiking. Do you hike often, Mr. Lockhart?"

"Yes, in my documentaries particularly we often hike to the tops of mountains and travel in rather precarious areas. I keep myself in top physical condition, though the street food in Malaysia is quite tempting."

"I see, so you most certainly made it to the top of Mount Kinabalu?"

"Yes."

"Did you take any photographs?"

"No," Lockhart laughed, a bit off his game. "No, we focused on getting up the mountain and then down in one day, as most climbers take two and stay overnight. Our schedule would not permit it."

"Yes, of course your schedule was packed. Now, if you wouldn't mind, will you read aloud this highlighted passage from your book?"

"Of course!" Lockhart appeared rather delighted to return to solid ground. Or, at least, what he perceived to be solid ground. He took a copy of his book from Hermione and read, "The clouds from the peak were thin and wispy, like pillows of smoke. I looked down at the lush greenery just barely visible, like a bedsheet draped over the stony face of the mountain—"

"Allow me to stop you there." Hermione frowned the slightest bit but kept her voice level. "That is what initially caught my attention. You say the clouds were thin and wispy like smoke, yes?"

"Yes."

"At that time of day in summer, the clouds should have been rather puffed and spread out, not thin and wispy as you assert here in your book. I thought perhaps this had been misguided and your recollection was simply murky."

"Yes," Lockhart's laughter was a bit more desperate, "yes, that must have been it."

"I understand," Hermione replied, her tone clearly patronizing. "Do you familiarize yourself with the driving regulations of the countries you study, Mr. Lockhart?"

"Yes, of course. I study up on all the rules of the road."

"That is interesting to note, thank you." Hermione took the book from his hands, flipped to another page, and demanded, "Read the highlighted passage aloud for me, please."

Confident he could not have possibly made an error, Gilderoy Lockhart asserted, "I turned to look back out the left window to ensure no one was approaching as I moved into the other lane to pass the car in front. I tore my eyes away from the beautiful palm trees and impossibly blue sky as I overtook the car and moved back into the proper lane."

"You were in the right lane and passed a car in the left lane?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Do you often take to publishing illegal driving maneuvers in your books?" asked Hermione.

Lockhart's mouth worked its way into what he probably thought was a charming smile, but his eyes revealed his confusion.

"I cannot understand—"

"It is illegal to overtake a car via the left lane in Malaysia. They drive on the left side of the road and the right is used primarily for passing purposes. This is quite important as driving in Malaysia has particular difficulties, something you would have noticed even in as little time it took you to get from the airport to the Snake Temple."

Lockhart's smile faltered as he said, "I see."

"But the clouds that looked like smoke continued to weigh on my mind. What could it possibly mean? Then I remembered a bit of Malaysian slang you would most likely only know if you'd spent significant time speaking Malay or Cantonese in Malaysia or Hong Kong, Cambodia, or throughout Southeast Asia. These questions led me to Siew-Ma Faouzia."

The colour instantly drained from Gilderoy Lockhart's face. He looked to someone behind the camera and insisted,

"This was not in the interview's preview questions."

"No, I'm afraid I left it out. As you left out some important credits in your book, yes? Beginning with my longtime friend, Faouzia."

The screen split into three parts: Hermione, a gorgeous woman in a purple jumper, and Gilderoy Lockhart. Lockhart looked ready to jump out the nearest window when Hermione asked,

"Faouzia, will you please tell the audience how we know each other?"

The woman replied with a thin accent, "We studied at NTU Singapore together. You were the year below me."

"Your book, Lonely Wife Atop Mount Kinabalu, what is it about?"

"My husband had an affair that began when I was eight months pregnant with our first child. The book is about my journeys to the summit and how I used that time to clear my head and regain strength within myself. It is easier to view the world with a clear head from so far above it all."

"In your book, how do you describe the view from atop Mount Kinabalu?"

"In reference to the pain, I say that the clouds remind me of the perverted pillows of my husband. The lush greenery drapes across the stoneface like the linens obscuring the secrets of our mattress."

"Please tell our audience the word you would use for pervert in this context?"

"Coloquially it would be 'hamsap.'"

Hermione asked, "If someone typed 'hamsap' into Google Translate, what would it say?"

"Smoke."

"Ooh!" Theo pressed a fist to his mouth. "He plagiarized his book via Google Translate?"

"No," insisted Blaise, "something like this is easily forgiven by native speakers. Hermione would not have placed her hopes solely on this bit of information. She must prove intent."

Draco didn't say anything. He was watching his girlfriend dismantle this man's work with ruthless precision.

"In that case, your husband's perverted pillows could be translated as pillows of smoke to an England-based speaker?"

"That is correct."

"Have you read a copy of Mr. Lockhart's book, provided by me?" asked Hermione.

Faouzia replied, "I have, and I found seventeen instances of direct plagiarism from my work. It is deeply offensive to me that someone can claim to observe my country then export my shame to sell his books."

"Jumpa lagi, Faouzia."

See you again, Faouzia.

Her split-screen disappeared and the full screen was devoted to the growing horror on Gilderoy Lockhart's face. He was still smiling as if that could get him out of the deep hole he'd dug for himself.

"Mr. Lockhart," said Hermione, "you do not strike me as the sort of person to make a mistake like using Google Translate."

"No, no," Lockhart sighed, relieved. "Of course not. This must have been a mistake on part of the publisher—"

"Except you know that isn't true." Hermione insisted, "You know that isn't true because you did not perform this translation yourself. In fact, I could hardly have done so fine a job as I am not fluent in Malay. After a bit of digging, we discovered a twenty-year-old, Graham Pritchard, at Oxford. His grandmother is Malaysian and he grew up speaking Malay in his home."

Lockhart insisted, "I have never heard that name before."

"Mr. Pritchard released a statement to BBC News once he was contacted for this story. It reads as follows."

The full statement was displayed on the television screen:

I was honoured when Mr. Lockhart contacted me for translation services. I translated three books from Malay to English at his request, at five hundred pounds per book. I presumed this was for background on the book he was writing. It saddens me to know my translations were used to steal someone else's work. An even deeper sadness exists from knowing this documentarian I so respected has resorted to shortcuts and lies. I apologize to each of the authors and wish to have nothing further to do with this matter.

Hermione asked, "What do you have to say to this?"

"It's a lie." Lockhart insisted, "I would never do anything like this."

"Are you confident in that assertion?" asked Hermione.

Lockhart hesitated before confirming, "Extremely."

"You say Mr. Pritchard has lied."

Lockhart insisted, "There is no truth to it. I would never pay someone to help me plagiarize someone else's work."

Hermione sighed, almost as if she was disappointed.

Draco knew Hermione was going in for the kill. The dagger to the heart …

"You should keep a closer watch on your bank accounts, Mr. Lockhart."

"And why is that?"

"Mr. Pritchard respected you so much that the first five hundred pound cheque you sent was never cashed." Hermione was handed something by a producer. She held it up for the audience to see. The camera zoomed in slowly onto …

They all gasped.

"Oh my God." Bastien dropped the popcorn bowl in his lap. "That's the fucking cheque!"

There it was, between Hermione's manicured fingers. She held it in her right hand, of course, not wanting to bring attention to the scarring on her left. Before dating her, Draco never noticed these tiny decisions Hermione agonized over each day. How many frames of a broadcast she had to overthink just to ensure her injuries escaped the public's notice. The cheque was dated six months earlier, made out to Graham Pritchard for "translation services." The important numbers had been blacked out, but that was clearly Gilderoy Lockhart's signature on his personal cheque.

Hermione revealed, "Pritchard had it framed."

"I …" Lockhart looked past the camera, desperate for someone to drag him off the set. "I must …"

"Mr. Lockhart," Hermione leveled him with a glare, "is there a single photograph of you in Malaysia outside a five-kilometre radius from the airport?"

He didn't turn to look at her.

"Mr. Lockhart, did you ever visit Malaysia?"

Gilderoy Lockhart stood up from the chair and walked past the camera, toppling it on his way by. Hermione watched him go, but then he seemed to turn around as his feet came back into frame. The camera itself was tilted ninety degrees on the floor, but both Hermione's and Lockhart's microphones were still on.

"You are an entitled little bitch!"

"You may think so." Hermione's voice was firm. "Given that you are a fraud, I will not take your word as gospel."

"Any good journalist would have—"

"Mr. Lockhart, I need you to step away from me."

"—sent a warning or asked for context—"

"Mr. Lockhart, if you think I am afraid of you, I assure you I am not."

"We'll see."

The feed jumped to a replay of BBC News at Six.

"I think she just destroyed him," said Theo. "It sounded like he was going to attack her."

"I'd kill him if he did," said Draco. "My girlfriend's fucking incredible."

Dean Thomas said, "She always has been."

Draco pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text.

You okay?

Hermione responded with a thumbs-up emoji about five minutes later.

Proud of you, golden girl.

Hope you are still proud when I get sacked next week.

I will be even more proud.

Have to rush to prepare for Ten. [Heart emoji]

I love you.

I love you, too.

"Oi! Calling to the blond end of the sofa!" shouted Theo. "What are you smiling at?"

"I dunno." Draco supposed he was smiling down at his phone. "I'm in love with an incredible woman."

"Right, raise your hand if you're in love with an incredible woman."

Draco, Bastien, and Theo raised their hands. He added,

"Or an incredible man."

Blaise and Dean each raised a hand. Dean leaned forward and grabbed a can of beer that may or may not have been his. He held it aloft and said,

"To boys' night!"

They each managed to find some container of alcohol. Theo pulled a half-empty bottle of wine from somewhere as they all toasted,

"To boys' night!"