You were so brave tonight, honey. I'm proud of you!

Hermione stared at the text until her eyes shifted out of focus. She rested her head against the back of the seat and concentrated on the hum of the BMW. Colin hadn't said anything; he knew better. How did her father know to watch? Gilderoy Lockhart was a big name, sure, but to get word of this interview all the way in Australia?

She pulled up her contacts and scrolled to the Rs. She tapped Ron's name and placed one earbud in her ear. The line rang once, twice, and he answered midway through the third.

"'mione?"

"Can you be my best friend for a minute?"

Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears. Colin glanced at her in the rearview mirror but didn't say anything. Ron sounded skeptical when he answered,

"I'm always your best friend."

"It's just … The way you left … I didn't know …"

"Hermione, I love you. You are my best friend, you are never not my best friend. As for the other half of our relationship, it's going to be some time before I come to terms with that heartbreak because I don't think I really realized what I did until, you know, I saw you happy with another man. That's on me entirely, I know that, and it does not keep me from being your best friend."

"Okay." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and asked, "Did you watch?"

"Yes."

Hermione pressed the pads of her fingers into her eyes and tossed the phone on the seat beside her.

"They're going to sack me."

"How?"

"I don't know. Well, I do know. They will find another reason, perhaps I didn't send Ernie some documents on time or I accidentally said Kyrgyzstan instead of Kazakhstan on air once … They will find a way to make it seem I am unfit to do this job."

"They'll have a difficult time convincing the public you're a rubbish journalist. You're not well-liked, but you are respected."

"I said the same thing to Ernie." Hermione laughed. "He said, 'Respect and ratings are two different things.'"

"Yeah. Who gives a fuck?" Ron casually said, "You're going to be great at whatever you do. Ratings kept you at BBC, yeah? Respect is a floor, Hermione. Respect means that no matter where you leave, there will be another place waiting. Whether it's ITV or UNICEF or, fucking, I don't know … Anywhere. You're a lawyer, international broadcast journalist, and you're dating a bloke who's half-decent with literally a billion pounds at his fingertips."

Hermione smiled.

"I'll tell Draco you said he was half-decent."

"I'll deny I said it."

"You're right. You're right it's … It feels like a breakup, a bit. I've had a relationship with the BBC longer than you were my husband. It's just the change, is all. I gave them my arm, Ron. I gave them everything and they're going to—"

"How about you worry about that when it happens?" said Ron. "Give BBC a shot to prove you wrong. Give them the opportunity to take your side. And when they don't? Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all, Hermione. Ten years from now, there are going to be a dozen young women working as war correspondents, telling the stories of women in conflict the way you have for over ten years. They're going to be doing it because of you. You've already won. You have changed the world so why don't you let your life happen the way it's meant to happen, alright?"

Hermione wiped tears away with the side of her wrist. She sniffled and admitted.

"I knew you were the proper person to call."

"You're damn right. I'm here for you, you know that."

"I know."

"Are you good?"

"My dad texted me." Hermione admitted, "I didn't know he was watching."

Ron whispered, "Hey, 'mione, it's okay to want his approval. He's your dad. He's proud of you, even if neither of your parents quite understand why you're still doing what you do."

"Thanks. Yes. Yes, I'm good."

"I wasn't speaking about your dad. It sounded like Lockhart was coming after you a bit toward the end."

"Oh." Hermione frowned. "That always happens with men, their egos are quite fragile when they've ended their own careers. Lockhart was angry because he turned down BBC Breakfast in favour of an interview with me because he thought he would come out unscathed."

"He didn't touch you?"

"No."

"Right. I'll talk to you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure."

"G'night, Hermione."

"Thank you, and good night."

Ron hung up and Hermione leaned back against the seat. From the front, Colin said,

"You know the whole 'You jump, I jump' thing? Well, if you leave, I leave. So we're clear."

Hermione sighed and insisted, "Your job is more important to you than mine is to me. I can survive without a job for several months. You're not in that situation."

"Well, I'm in talks to be doing a lot more editorial work. When you've got Viktor Krum as a reference, things get done pretty quick. Already got seven players asking me to do photographs for their promos and social media. And the gay bars are always willing to let me bartend a few nights a week."

"You really care for that community, don't you?"

"I guess. They kept my head above water. It's kind of like … I suppose, you're never really looking at where the life preservers are until you need one. Once one saves your life, then you're always looking for the life preservers when you step on a boat."

"I see."

"Anyway, we're here."

Hermione stepped out of the car and walked up to Blaise Zabini's house. He left the gate open for them, but the house was suspiciously dark. The exterior lights were lit, but all the interior lights were off. Not so much as a lamp lit in any of the windows. There were five men inside with more alcohol than they could reasonably drink. It should be a party, not nearly this silent. Hermione felt something was off, but she needed Draco's comfort more than anything. The thought of falling asleep in his arms outweighed her skepticism. Besides, she'd just thrown her career in the rubbish bin. Being murdered did not feel like the worst possible outcome at that moment.

Hermione opened the door to reveal what appeared to be an empty house. She closed the door behind her and pulled out her phone. Just as she made to turn on the flashlight, Bastien's all-too-familiar voice boomed throughout the space.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! TONIGHT'S WINNER BY UNANIMOUS DECISION, IN THE RED CORNER, HERMIONE GRANGER!"

Suddenly, the light popped on in the snug and a familiar Queen melody blared from a hidden speaker. Hermione tentatively walked to her right and saw boys' night hadn't quite finished after all. Blaise, Dean, Theo, Bastien, and Draco were huddled together in the snug. They were dancing in various degrees of drunkenness and shouting,

"Another one bites the dust! Another one bites the dust! And another one down, and another one down, another one bites the dust!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. They were all rather drunk, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Dean smile like that. She was devastated, scared, and so many other things, but … These were her friends, supporting her in a way only they could. Bastien stepped forward to kneel in front of Hermione. He offered up a customized championship belt, with the BBC logo at the top and NEWSROOM CHAMPION at the bottom. Bastien said,

"Congratulations on your win. A total knockout if I've ever seen one."

Hermione's shoulders shook she laughed so hard. She glanced up to see the remaining four men had linked arms and were leaning side-to-side in time with the music.

"ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!"

"I … I really don't know what to say."

Bastien stood up and placed the belt on Hermione's good shoulder. He grabbed her hand and placed it over the belt.

"Now, a champion knows you don't wear a belt as a belt unless you're walking into another match. It lives on your shoulder, and you hold it steady with your forearm." Bastien wrapped Hermione's fingers around the belt's edge. "Have you got a good hold on it?"

Confused, Hermione said, "I think so?"

"Great."

Before she knew what was happening, Bastien scooped her off the floor. Her good shoulder was toward him and he supported her back well enough she wasn't worried about an accidental impact on her neck. He began singing (shouting) along with the boys,

"Another one down, another one down, another one bites the dust!"

"A toast!" Theo shouted over the music. "To the baddest bitch in broadcast! It's Hermione fucking Granger!"

They all raised their beverages to shout, "YEAH!" While Bastien simply raised Hermione herself. Hermione laughed then shouted,

"Hermione fucking Granger needs to take her boyfriend home!"

"Your boyfriend," shouted Draco, "is very drunk!"

"No sex for you, then."

A chorus of boos rang throughout the space. Someone turned off the music as Draco laughed and placed his can of beer on a nearby table. He stepped forward and said,

"If it's alright with you," he took Hermione from Bastien into his own arms, "I'm going to go home with my girlfriend."

Hermione looked up into those half-hooded grey eyes and demanded, "You will put me down, Draco Malfoy. The last thing I need is you mucking up my arm because you tripped over a rug on the way out."

He pouted, but placed Hermione on the ground. He turned around to hug each of the other men before Bastien scooped Draco up and threw him over a shoulder. Draco didn't put up much of a fight; one he would lose on his best day, let alone as drunk as he was. There was something endlessly hilarious about watching Bastien Queensbury carry her boyfriend out the front door. Hermione asked the remaining three,

"Boys' night was a success?"

"You really brought us together, Granger," said Theo. "I haven't seen Draco have this much fun around all of us since well before his wife died. You're doing great fucking things for him. For all of us."

"That's a sweet thing to say. Thank you. I suppose I should follow my boyfriend out—"

"Theo is right."

There was an awkward pause because it was Blaise Zabini speaking. They all looked at him, expectant. Blaise looked at Hermione and said,

"You are healing him in a way I never could. Thank you."

"I … I suppose you're welcome?" said Hermione. "I think he's healing himself, though. I am more the light at the end of that tunnel."

"Where there was no light before."

Hermione offered him a soft smile. Zabini didn't seem all that intoxicated. Buzzed perhaps, but if Ginny was to be believed then three sentences from Blaise Zabini may as well have been a soliloquy. Dean was looking at Blaise in—and she would never say this aloud—a way he never looked at Seamus. Dean's happiness mattered more than anything else, and Blaise looked happy, too. Theo … Well, Theo looked like a football fan in the 85th minute.

"I am happy you all had a nice time. I promise to send Draco back to you in one piece."

Then Hermione was off. She passed Bastien on her way out the door. He gave her a simple nod and moved back toward the snug. Hermione closed the front door behind her and made her way to the BMW. She slid into the back driver's seat and buckled quickly. Colin was out the gate the moment he heard it click. Hermione looked at Draco and said,

"I've given it some thought, and I think I know now why your family is so closely tied together."

"Oh?" Draco replied, a bit slow. "Why's that?"

"You're all only children. You never had siblings to rely on or care for—"

"That's not true, technically." Draco pressed his lips together, swallowed, and forced his eyes open. "Theo's got three older half-brothers and an older half-sister. They're all in their sixties—"

"Exactly."

"But …" Draco frowned. "You're an only child. Potter's an only child—"

"Ron has seven siblings, one of whom is one of my best girlfriends, and two of my best friends are twins. I have loads of people in my life with siblings. The four of you are each other's only core support."

"Hmmph."

Draco didn't respond further and took to half-glancing half-glaring out the window. Come to think of it, Hermione was surprised he allowed himself to get so sozzled. He was always so put-together, a buzz was not out of the question … But even at boys' night, was Draco Malfoy really the sort to get sloshed?

"Draco, are you okay?"

He shrugged.

"You're a bit out of sorts, even behind the alcohol."

He laughed rather darkly and said, "It was a rough evening."

"But everyone said you had a wonderful time."

"Yeah, it was fanfuckingtastic, but your boy Thomas." Draco frowned and sqeezed his eyes closed. "Thomas Dean? Dean Thomas? What sort of man has a first name as a surname? He could be Thomas Thomas. Tommy Thomas. Tommy Thompson Thomas III. Or what if he graduated from teaching at a school to running one? Then he would literally be Dean Thomas. Oh!" Draco's eyes lit up. "Dean Dean!"

Hermione shook her head.

"You're too pissed for a proper conversation."

"Yup," Draco replied, popping his lips on the 'P.'

"What happened to you?" asked Hermione. "You're never surly like this."

"Your boy Dean said that I am not a threat to his relationship with Blaise, and that I may as well be one of the twenty-two-year-old twinks who lusts after Blaise on Instagram. Felt so fucking pathetic because I've been so bloody pathetic these past several years."

"Dean would never say that."

"He did."

"He wouldn't."

"He didn't use the words 'twenty-two-year-old twink.'"

"Dean would never say you were pathetic."

"He didn't have to!" shouted Draco. "He didn't have to say it. I said it and none of my mates bothered to correct me. Blaise was the first person I fell in love with. He taught me about what it means to care for another person. Our love is in the past, of course, but that doesn't mean it was nothing. The way your boy said it, it felt like it was nothing. Blaise has been there for me more consistently than anyone throughout my—well, no. That's not true. That … That's not true. But he's … Well …" Draco frowned. "I think I just talked myself out of whatever I was falling into."

Hermione looked away. She shook her head and wondered how little Draco truly thought of her. He seemed to catch on and asked,

"What's wrong?"

Hermione huffed, "Do you think I would contemplate a life with someone who was as pathetic as you believe yourself to be right now?"

"I—"

"I worked for months to get to a point where you felt like we could be together. I love you, how could you possibly believe I would fall in love with someone who wasn't worth my time?"

"Well—"

"Further on, why does it matter Dean's relationship isn't threatened by your presence? Should I be worried when Blaise Zabini is in the room? Of course not. You're not in love with him the way you love me, and I know that otherwise I would have pushed you out of the car by now."

"I think …" said Draco. "And my brain's rather fuzzy, but maybe I made myself pathetic of my own volition these past several years." He paused again before nearly jumping out of the car all on his own, he seemed so ashamed. It was like he cracked the code on his own mind. "Oh my God. That's why Blaise said no when I asked him to marry me—"

"Sounds like you took boys' night too literally."

"—Three years ago. It wasn't because I was pathetic, it's because I was being pathetic. I wasn't choosing to live my own life and Blaise felt I was using him as a crutch. Oh. Oh. God, I'm an idiot."

"No," replied Hermione, "you're drunk."

"That, too."

"Who has been there more consistently than Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"You said that you were wrong, and Blaise was not the person who has been there for you consistently. Who is it that has cared for you more?"

"My mother and Bastien's dad."

"I see."

"Is it normal to love one parent far more than you love the other?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know."

"What of your parents?" asked Draco. "I never asked about your parents. I assumed they were dead."

"They are very much alive in Australia. We don't speak often, but my dad texted me this evening. It's … a bit strained."

"What do they do?"

"They're dentists."

"Why's it strained?"

"That's a conversation for when you are in your proper head."

The conversation ended. Draco seemed to have utilized all the remaining brainpower he had; he fell asleep. Hermione rolled her eyes and said to Colin,

"Will you get him upstairs for me?"

"Of course."

"Can't believe I wasted my time to get him from boys' night, only for him to be so sozzled we likely won't even have sex in the morning because he'll be too hungover."

"Eeeh," Colin croaked. "I think that's crossing the line a bit between employee and employer."

"Sod the line, Colin. BBC will have fired me in two weeks' time. Perhaps less."

"I'll say this, then, I am happy you've got a lot of people to hold you up if BBC does do something like you're saying they might. A few months back, you didn't seem to have that. You sure as hell weren't smiling this often, if you don't mind me saying."

Hermione admitted, "I don't mind because it's true."

When Colin pulled into the car park, Hermione gently nudged Draco awake. Startled, his eyes flew open and he stepped out of the car of his own volition. He waved Colin off, but Hermione insisted,

"I can't help you up if you fall, so he's coming with us."

Draco nodded, but didn't say anything else. The three of them stepped into the lift, turned around, and watched the doors close. It was a bit odd, and Hermione found herself wishing for that terrible music most lifts used to play. The doors opened on her floor and Hermione walked briskly to her door. She unlocked it before Draco and Colin had taken more than three steps out of the lift. Hermione opened the door, stepped inside, and nodded toward the guestroom. Colin walked Draco inside, tossed his holdall on the floor, and waited for the inevitable plunk of Draco falling onto the bed.

"He's going to be out for awhile," Colin said as he walked toward the front door. "I meant what I said last week, Hermione. I am proud to drive you and tonight was another fantastic showing of why. You've got a good bloke there, too."

"Thank you." Hermione conceded, "I think so, too. Though he's done a number on that tonight."

"It's that y chromosome, makes us all a bit dense."

"Now that I will agree to. I won't be going out and Draco's not going anywhere. You're free to leave for the night."

"Thanks, boss."

Hermione shouted after him just before the front door closed behind him.

"Stay safe, Colin!"

.oOo.

Hermione couldn't sleep. She stared angrily up at the ceiling and sighed. Draco was in her guestroom, not in her bed. Hermione had destroyed her career at BBC and all she wanted was to fall asleep next to her boyfriend. Her supportive, loving, very beautiful boyfriend. Then he'd gone and mucked it all up—if Hermione was honest with herself, she should've expected it. What was boys' night for if not for getting drunk with his mates?

The Blaise thing irritated her, but Hermione supposed Ron irritated Draco the same. Ron was her best friend, and Blaise was Draco's best friend. Each of them had loved their best friend, given it a go, and watched it fall apart.

You are healing him in a way I never could.

If Hermione was honest with herself, Draco was healing her, too. Perhaps not in the most noticeable ways, but Colin was right. Hermione hadn't smiled nearly as much before she met Draco. She hadn't been so open with her friends; hadn't cried or laughed or dressed so openly since Ron left her all those years earlier.

I haven't seen Draco have this much fun around all of us since well before his wife died.

Perhaps Hermione needed a girls' night. Parvati needed a girls' night more than anyone. Padma and Bastien had figured out how to keep Ti afloat, but there was more fun to be had. Once Ginny returned from the World Cup, they would have to get together. Everything would come together. Until then …

Hermione rolled out of bed and checked her phone for the time.

4:55.

She tossed it on the bedside table and made for the guestroom. Hermione opened the door and stood there just to look at Draco as he slept beneath the duvet. He was on his stomach with his left cheek against the pillow, arms crossed against the headboard above him. Hermione noted his trousers were at the foot of the bed and he had thrown on a t-shirt. The neckline was a bit too far down on his back. Hermione smiled and stifled a laugh, realizing he pulled it on backward.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. The sound did not appear to wake Draco, so she pulled the duvet back on the free side and made herself as comfortable as she could. Hermione wiggled until her neck was supported by the pillow, but her shoulders were flat against the mattress. She closed her eyes and immediately relaxed. This was the proper way to end a day and begin the next: with the man she loved.

.oOo.

Hermione woke sometime around nine that morning to find Draco's arm draped lazily over her midsection. Hermione half-yawned, half-laughed.

"Planning to keep me in bed, are you?"

Draco's voice was soft and sleepy when he replied, "You figured me out. Love you, golden girl." He moved his hand upward until it was sitting on Hermione's breast. "And your tits."

Hermione smiled up at the ceiling.

"My tits love you, too."

Draco groaned, "I need to get up."

"Do you have plans?"

"No, it's morning and my dick's hard as hell. There's something rather pathetic about wanking in bed next to my girlfriend; I'd rather just do it in the bathroom."

Hermione pushed his arm away and huffed, "All you could say last night was how pathetic you believed yourself to be. Do me a favour and roll onto your back."

Draco cracked an eye open and asked, "Why?"

"Pathetic men don't get to ask their girlfriends questions."

Draco groaned but obliged. Hermione pushed her pyjama bottoms and knickers down to her knees. Her knickers were soaked through, anyhow. She kicked them off then rolled to her good side, on top of Draco, chest-to-chest. She pushed herself upward using his shoulders and straddled his waist. His eyes were half-open when he asked,

"What are you planning—"

"I just said pathetic men don't get to ask me questions. Get your pants off—"

"My breath is probably rancid—"

"At this moment, the only bit of you that interests me is your cock."

Draco seemed to get the message. He wriggled out of his pants and placed one hand on Hermione's hip.

"Take it slow for me, golden girl."

"Only because that wasn't a question." She bent low for a quick kiss and whispered, "Daddy."

Hermione felt Draco's body tense beneath her. He moaned low in his throat.

"You cannot break that out on me this early in the morning. D'you have any idea how many blokes I shagged over the years who gave that a go? Nothing. Never did anything for me, sort of killed the mood, to be honest. But when you say it, I'm desperate for you."

Hermione didn't bother looking at him when she said,

"Earn it, then."

.oOo.

By ten-thirty, Hermione had showered, brushed her teeth, dressed, and tamed her hair into a bun. Something she could only do with an extra set of hands. There was a lot to be said for having a boyfriend skilled in haircare. It was nice, watching him methodically bun her curls. Draco pulled the Sleekeazy's products from his holdall without question and went straight to work. He kept finding new ways to make Hermione feel cared for.

While Draco took his own shower, Hermione sat on a barstool in the kitchen and stared at her most recent FaceTime calls.

Gin.

Sworn Enemy. (Oliver)

Parvati Patil.

Cedric Diggory.

Harry Potter.

Ron Weasley.

Padma Patil.

Dr. Hannah.

Dean Thomas.

Dr. Neville.

Ernie MacMillan.

Dad.

Hermione was surprised to see how long it had been since she spoke to her father. Had it truly been more than a month? She tapped his name with her thumb and listened to the ring, staring at her own reflection in the phone. Hermione was smiling. She looked good. She felt good. It felt right knowing that Draco Malfoy was here with her. Then her reflection was replaced by—

"Hi, dad!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile when her father's face appeared on the screen. He was lounging on a sofa in his pyjamas. She always wanted to be like him, someone everybody seemed to like. The man everyone said hello to with a smile. He grinned into the phone and said,

"Honey! I miss you!"

"I miss you, too."

"Your mum and I keep telling our customers our daughter is a journalist and a lawyer. I think they regret being a captive audience, but nobody can contradict how impressive you are because they can't talk! It's the perfect way to talk up your kid, I'm shocked more people don't take up dentistry for that alone."

"I'm not technically a practicing lawyer—"

"Oh, I saw your interview last night, honey. That was a lawyer if I've ever seen one!"

Hermione paused before revealing, "I think the network will sack me because of it."

"Great!"

Hermione's life flashed before her eyes.

"Great?!"

"That would be fantastic. Oh, honey, you could move to Australia and be a reporter for ABC. Or Sky News! I bet they pay better."

"It might be a bit difficult." Hermione took a deep breath, knowing this could either be very awkward, or it could go very wrong. "I've sort of met a man—"

"As long as it's not that Viktor Krum character. I never liked him, he was always too—"

"It's Draco Malfoy."

Hermione watched as her father's face ran through a dozen different emotions. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head as if determining whatever it was were the wrong words for the situation. Her father frowned then asked,

"How, uh, um, how long? How long have you been together?"

Hermione heard her mother's voice in the distant background ask,

"Did I hear Hermione is dating someone?"

Her father looked off to the side of the screen and shouted, "Apparently she's dating Lucius Malfoy's son!"

Her mother shouted back, "That's fantastic! He's a billionaire, she'll finally be able to afford those shoes she likes so much."

Hermione sighed. Draco hadn't offered to buy anything for her. He had offered to have Percy murdered, and that was quite an enticing proposition, but he'd never bought her anything. That was a bit odd, wasn't it? Men should buy their girlfriends nice things. Then again, they had taken their sweet time about making things official. Mrs. Granger added, offscreen,

"I thought he was gay!"

"He's bisexual, mum." Hermione felt herself blush as she recalled what they'd been up to that morning. "He's certainly interested in women. He was married to a woman previously, and she died in childbirth."

Hermione's father grimaced. He conceded,

"I can hardly imagine that pain. Is that … Is that something he expects of you? A child, I mean."

"We haven't spoken much of it. I'm quite fond of his son, dad. I really quite like … I quite like the idea of being his … being his …"

Mum. Hermione still couldn't quite get the word out. She wasn't ready yet.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger appeared onscreen in pyjamas, "I'm not sure you have the skills for that. Being a mother is something you need passion for if you intend to do it properly. You've never really seemed interested."

Hermione scoffed.

"As if you are such an authority on being a successful mum? You moved 'round the world to escape your only daughter."

"Because when you care so deeply for your only child, Hermione, you don't wish to watch them continuously place themselves in danger. We raised you in England so you could avoid war and conflict and struggle, yet you made a career of flinging yourself into those very things."

Draco's holdall appeared on the chair next to Hermione. He wrapped one arm around Hermione's waist and bent low to kiss her on the cheek.

"You were incredible."

Thankfully, he did not follow that up with context. He placed his hand on her thigh and Hermione relaxed into his touch. Every morning should feel like this.

"Honey, do you plan to introduce us?"

Draco jumped and asked, "You phoned someone?"

Hermione ended the call and tossed her iPhone onto the countertop. She rolled her eyes and snapped,

"I told my parents I'm dating you and was promptly reminded why I don't tell them things like that anymore."

Draco rubbed his palms along Hermione's thighs.

"I don't want to pull you away from your parents, Hermione."

"Draco, why do you think they live in Australia? They didn't want to be around their daughter who is on, in my mother's words, 'an extended suicide mission to promote journalism no one cares about.'" Hermione sighed and revealed, "Ron was not the only one who had a negative reaction when I went back to work. My parents couldn't stand watching me on telly, so they moved as far away as they could to escape it."

Hermione watched as Draco turned that over in his head. He wondered,

"After you went back to work, you returned home to find your husband had left you and your support system was relocating to Australia?"

Hermione nodded.

"You decided to continue on with the sort of journalism you were doing, even though the most important people in your life left you because of it."

Another nod.

"You are fucking phenomenal, Hermione Granger." Draco spun Hermione around on the barstool until she was facing him directly. He took Hermione's hands in his own and insisted, "Absolutely striking woman who has found the light in my life that I refused to see on my own."

"It's your son. He's brought the light to you, and I like to think I've brought you back to him, in some way."

"In every way. And …" Draco squeezed her hands. "Losing you would break me apart in a way I could never recover. I would never heal, never not be thinking about how Scorpius will have lost not one mother, but two."

Hermione pulled her hands away and crossed her arms.

"I'm not ready for that."

"But we are," insisted Draco. "And I know the risks of being your boyfriend. You flying into warzones, pissing off dictators who could have you killed in the most horrible ways, and the incredible stubbornness with which you greet the world every morning. I'm not going to be Weasley or your parents; I'm not running away from the risks. I won't say you're repairing my heart into what it was before I lost Astoria. I will never be that fun-loving, silly man again, and I am sorry for that. I think you would have really enjoyed the man Blaise and Tori got to love."

"I quite like you as you are now."

"For which I am very grateful. You are taking the broken bits of my heart and fitting the sharp edges into something new."

"I'm not certain what that is."

"You don't need to be. But after Graham did …" Draco's eyes narrowed and he appeared to lose focus for a moment before shaking himself out of that memory. "After Graham did what he did, I knew I needed to get you something that reflected how grateful I am you put yourself between him and my son."

Hermione insisted, "Any decent human would have done the same."

"I'm a member of English high society, Hermione. How many decent people do you think I know?"

Fair point. Draco unzipped his holdall and produced a box made from navy leather. Hermione immediately clocked two things: it was a watch, and that box alone might've cost more money than any pair of shoes in her closet.

"I bought this for you before we were together. Before you'd kissed me, even. This is not a gift from your boyfriend, this is a gift from a grateful father."

"A grateful father who is, very much, my boyfriend."

"Of course." Draco's shoulders slumped a bit. "But someday there may come a time when our relationship falls apart. Should that happen, I don't wish for you to think of this as something connected to our romance. I didn't buy this for you because I love you. I bought this because I respect you and the care you have for my son."

"I can't imagine a scenario in which either of us gives up on this relationship."

Draco took a deep breath before saying, "When you lose someone the way I did, you learn that the universe will find its way to the unimaginable."

"That is fair."

Draco shrugged.

"At my core, Hermione, I'm just a guy with loads of money whose hobbies are timepieces, my morning run through the gardens, and concrete. I'm a man trying to figure out how to be a half-decent father to my son. Then here you are, Hermione fuckin' Granger. Brilliant, inspirational war reporter who is known across the world for being more effective punishment than the Hague."

"You are far more than that to me."

Draco removed the lid from the box to reveal a gorgeous watch. It was rimmed in silver plating, with blue roman numerals to represent the hours. There were two additional functions on the face. She had never seen anything like the one toward where the XII should be, but the VI at the bottom had been replaced by a secondary time face. Hermione said,

"This looks beautiful and rather complex."

"It is!"

The glee in Draco's voice was delightful. Hermione hadn't gotten to see much of this side of him. Draco began to explain the functions of the watch, but she found herself far more drawn to how the air around him seemed to lighten. The tension left his shoulders and his smile gradually widened as he spoke.

"The band is alligator leather that's been dyed black. I wanted something sleek for you, because I want you to be able to wear it with anything and everything. This bit up here," Draco gestured toward the half-circle opening at the XII spot, "is the seven-day power reserve tracker. If you're not wearing the watch, it will lose its wind and eventually stop. Each of these two tiny circles here, the one on the left is where the gold disc begins. That's the seven days of full power reserve. Once it moves through to the other side, that's when the power reserve has been depleted. It's like a moon cycle, you see?"

Hermione immediately understood what he was saying. It was a beautiful method for tracking the remaining power in the watch. The disc would perform an arch in line with the top of the semicircle before eventually moving toward the other end.

"Then down below you've got the secondary watch face, which I thought was important because you travel to so many foreign places in different time zones. This one's been set to us here, in England, so you'll always know what time it is for me. For our family here."

For our family here.

Hermione nodded, speechless. Draco shut the box and said,

"You don't need to wear it now. The gift was rather selfish of me. In a way, if you're wearing this you will always have time for me."

Hermione laughed.

"I love you, and perhaps someday you will present me with another box with a smaller bit of jewelry in it."

"God willing."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's waist and pulled him close. She felt his hand on her back holding her in place. She could nearly see it, Draco Malfoy down on a knee, asking her to marry him. That life still felt out of reach, but closer than it had at five o'clock that morning.

"My mum said I don't know how to be a mother." Hermione sighed. "She never believed I was fit for it, and I think I believed her."

"I don't think it matters much about your capabilities for the mechanics of being a mother," replied Draco. "We aren't like that, you and me. I don't think we expect you to be the mum who cooks dinner and bandages scrapes on his knees. You're a good mum because you make my son feel intelligent. You listen to him and elevate his conversations. And he really enjoyed his pedicure."

Hermione scrunched up her nose, she laughed so hard.

"He wanted to paint his toenails brown and his fingernails green, like the bottom and top of a tree."

"Thank God you steered him on a different course."

"I love him. I truly think I loved him before I loved you."

"Who doesn't?"

"However, it's difficult for me to imagine looking at Scorpius and saying, 'That's my son.'" Hermione rested her forehead on Draco's shoulder. "I can say, 'That's my boyfriend's son.' 'That is Draco's son.' But not my son."

"Scorpius and I talked it through, and we've discovered what we believe it means for someone to be his mother. I think the reason you can't find it in yourself to say he is your son is because you don't know what it means for youto be someone's mother."

"You're right. I don't know what that looks like."

"Perhaps," offered Draco, "this is a scenario in which you won't know what it looks like until you realize you're already doing it."

"I have ordered his birthday present."

"Fucking hell," Draco groaned, "I don't even know what I'm doing for his birthday."

"You'll figure it out."

"Perhaps I'll take him for a pedicure," Draco teased before snogging Hermione within an inch of her life.

She nearly fell off the barstool. Hermione tightened her hold on him and recognized it was the same sort of tension and wandering hands as when Draco had backed her against the wall nearly two weeks prior. Scorpius was not around to interrupt …

"If I had another hour," Draco said, "I could probably make another go of it. As it is, I'd prefer not to push myself so early on."

Hermione was rather relieved to hear that. Not the least bit because sex would ruin the work he had done on her hair. She guided Draco back a bit so she could look him in the eyes. Draco insisted,

"Not because I don't want to. It's only that I was not getting myself off but once every month or so, and not for a whole year after Tori died. Then you come along and suddenly I want everything. I think it's proper to pace myself, is all."

"I understand."

"Okay."

"I'm not disappointed."

"Okay."

"Sex this morning was very good."

"Right," Draco teased, "I will accept 'very good.'"

"I do have a question, though. It's been bouncing 'round my brain since you said that, eventually, you could see yourself marrying me."

"I absolutely see it. My only question is whether I manage to fuck it up before we get there."

"If we were married …" Hermione shook her head. It wasn't the proper time. "Never mind. I don't think this is the time."

"No," Draco lazily ran his fingers along the side of Hermione's thigh, "ask. I'm here, now, I'd rather you ask me difficult questions in person than over the phone."

A valid point.

"If we were married, would you have a child with me?" asked Hermione. "Is that something you expect, is it something you want—"

"Is it something you want?" asked Draco.

"I don't … I don't quite know. I can't say the answer is no."

"I see."

Draco was quiet for a long while. Maybe a minute, but each of those seconds was drawn out as he couldn't so much as look at Hermione. He stared at the wall in the distance, his fingers still tracing a line up and down the side of Hermione's thigh. It was more consideration than Hermione expected. She assumed he would snap back, "No," and that would be the end of it.

"If it was something you truly wanted, I would entertain it. I will say that I would be terrified every moment of the process. I am not sure whether I could be a proper partner to you through it. But I also don't want to deny you the opportunity. Scorpius would be a fantastic older brother. In fact, I can hardly think of a child better suited to it."

"I have the opposite concern," replied Hermione. "I want to be his mum at some point, and it feels like if we did have a child together, you and me, I would be less his mum."

"Okay." Draco frowned. "You'd think family planning would be easier the second time around."

"You don't need to give me an answer right now," replied Hermione. "I only wished to know whether it was completely off the table."

"Not completely."

"You keep surprising me."

"Let's not compare surprises, now. I wasn't the one who decided to break out the daddy kink this morning," teased Draco. He pressed his forehead against hers and said, "I'm off to retrieve my son. I fucking love you, Hermione Granger."

"You really think I'd make a good mum?"

"I know you will."

Hermione admitted, "It's difficult to keep my own mother's beliefs out of my head."

"If I believed everything my father thought of me, Hermione, I'd have killed myself a long time ago. Instead, I'm here with one successful marriage to my name and a fantastic son whom I will treat exponentially better than my own father treated me. And now I've got one of the most powerful women in my arms …" He hummed softly and teased, "In my bed … In all the best bits of my life. Our parents don't always see us for who we are."

"Okay. Okay, you're right. I know you're right. And I love you, too." Hermione nodded toward the door and said, "Now let me watch you walk away. You know how much I enjoy the view."

.oOo.

Eight days later, Hermione received a call from Oliver while flipping through her fifth book about being a stepparent. Nothing. There was no value in any of them. Scorpius was a remarkably unproblematic child, and Draco's situation was painfully unique. What she really wanted was a book titled, How to Properly Parent an Incredibly Kind Child Who Never Knew His Mother and Not Feel Like You're Stealing Her Son. After all, Astoria did the hard work.

Well.

Sex with Draco Malfoy was not hard work. The rest of it, all the effort it took to bring Scorpius Malfoy into the world? That was Astoria. She gave her life for that little boy, while Hermione hadn't done much of anything except take him shopping. Anyone could take him for a pedicure. Hermione answered Oliver's call with a curious,

"Hello?"

"Hermione!" shouted Oliver. It sounded rather chaotic on his end. "I've got the police here with an order for me to turn over all my records pertaining to you. Have you got the faintest idea what this is about?"

Oh, no.

Hermione's heart sank lower and lower until it rested in the pit of her stomach. Why would her physical therapy records be of any importance? BBC was ready to toss her career in the bin, but what did Oliver have to do with it?

"Oi!"

Hermione heard a distant voice on the other end insist, "Sir, this is government business—"

"I don't care if you're Mary Queen of fuckin' Scots! Get your twatty bureaucratic fingers off my files!"

Hermione huffed, "Let him—"

"Yeah, alright, arrest me! You can't just come up into my business and force your way into my clients' records!"

"Oliver—"

"Oi, right, yeah you try to slap the cuffs on, then, I might've blown out a knee but both fists are fully functional and I will shove one right up your—"

"OLIVER!"

"Yeah, Hermione?"

"Just …" She sighed. "Just turn them over. Whatever BBC wants to find, they already know. They're not looking for information, they are looking for confirmation."

"The only records I have on you are about physical therapy. I don't have any records of where the injury occurred."

Hermione put the pieces together and shook her head. It was what Ron said, wasn't it? He'd said it over and over and over for seven years. You went back before you were medically cleared to leave.

"When do your files say I was ready to go back to work?"

Without hesitation, Oliver answered, "November of 2012."

Hermione placed the phone on the table and put it on speaker. She stared at the backsplash until her vision blurred. All the years she'd given to the BBC; all the time, the commitment she believed was firm on both ends. This new reality hurt more than her divorce. Ron was right to leave, he had reason. Damage to Gilderoy Lockhart's reputation was not a proper reason. Her time in the co-anchor chair was finished, and for what? Oliver's voice pulled her back to the present.

"Hermione?!"

"They're firing me for breach of contract." Hermione shook her head. "I went to Libya to report for BBC in September of 2012. They are after your records to confirm I gave them false information about my health and fitness to work."

Oliver insisted, "Then I won't provide it to them."

"I don't want you risking your business because I made a decision seven years ago. Hand the files over."

"Take a deep breath, think on it for ten seconds, then tell me again."

Hermione breathed deeply, just the way Oliver taught her. In through the nose and out through the mouth. There was no reason for him to be brought down by a risk Hermione took of her own volition. When Oliver tried to stop her all those years ago, Hermione elbowed him in the stomach and told him exactly where he could stuff his opinion. She set the table for this.

"Turn over the records."

"Done." Oliver paused before adding, "I wouldn't have stuck with you if I didn't believe you were the best at what you do."

"I know. Thank you."

"Don't let 'em win, Hermione. You're a fighter, and you can't take it lying down. You're not done."

Hermione nodded to herself.

"You're right."

"Damn straight."

Oliver ended the call and Hermione immediately dialed Harry. He picked up three rings in. Hermione didn't let him get a word in before saying,

"BBC have gone after Oliver's files. I believe they are going to sack me for breach of contract. I don't know when it will happen, but it will be soon. Ron and I are in a difficult place right now. I need to know if you can be there for me when I lose the most important thing in my life."

There was a long pause on the other end. Harry's voice was steady when he finally spoke.

"I am here for you, Hermione."

"Even if Ginny is still in France?"

"I am here for you whenever it happens. I am rather familiar with the concept of friendly fire."

Oof. Hermione hated to have caused him to bring that up.

"I think I made a colossal mistake. I just …" Hermione closed her eyes. "I know there will be a moment when I think about jumping off the roof of my building. My career is going to end, and I want to know I can call you."

"Always."