Hermione felt rather ill, staring at her laptop screen. The full broadcast team stepped away to support her. Those people left their incomes, and for what? She had so many questions about where her own life was heading, her heart ached for the crew, making this sacrifice in the name of a future Hermione wasn't sure she wanted.

Then there was Cedric.

Hermione rolled her eyes because she knew this began with him. No one else would dare suggest walking off the job. Cedric quit his job, which was a loss for the country as a whole. The National Union of Journalists selected him as the delegate for broadcast because no one was more liked or respected in their field. My partner in broadcast and my friend in life. Hermione was terrified that he had sacrificed everything only because he didn't know Hermione had doubts. She should have been more open with him. She should have told him.

Hermione pushed the covers off and flung her legs over the side of the bed. She grabbed her knickers and pulled on her jumper. She tossed Draco's pants at his chest. He caught them and held them aloft.

"Am I meant to put these on?"

"Yes." Hermione huffed as she pulled on her pyjama bottoms. "I have to phone everyone to thank them for supporting me, and I must do it immediately. It seems disrespectful to the moment if I'm thinking about your dick."

Draco shrugged and pulled on his pants. He offered Hermione her iPhone, which she accepted. She unlocked the phone, pulled up her contacts, and tapped the name she was burning to talk to. The phone rang once, twice, then Marietta Edgecombe's voice came clearly through the speaker.

"Hermione?"

"Tell me why you joined the walkout."

Without hesitation, Marietta answered, "You were the reason I got demoted. If you're not valuable enough to them, what the hell does that say about me?"

Hermione nodded.

"And," Marietta continued, "I agree with everything Cedric said. I have always been jealous of you because I can't inspire people. Even when we were doing the same job, it seemed like you were doing a different job entirely. I am better at Breakfast than you would've been, we both know that, but that's because I'm good with conversation and you are good with stories."

Hermione hummed before admitting, "I've never considered it that way."

"I fucking hated you for taking the foreign correspondent spot away from me, but I have never not respected you."

"I always thought you were a bit mad," replied Hermione, "what sane person would see what happened to me and jump at the chance to be my replacement?"

"They didn't tell me. The network said you were taking a break, so I assumed you were pregnant. I didn't get told until they put out the press release."

"Oh."

"Cedric phoned Roger this afternoon, then Roger phoned me. He said it might be more impactful if BBC lost people on two shows, not just one. Roger's a friend, I respect Cedric, it was really no problem. If they haven't rehired you by the time I am meant to be on-air Monday, then I'm at a network run by fools."

Hermione admitted, "I am sad Cedric had to resign his position at NUJ."

"I think they have sixty days to reverse that decision."

"Oh?"

"We know they made a mistake, Hermione. We're making them pay."

"I do …" Hermione hedged before admitting, "I do appreciate it."

"You'd do the same for me."

"I'm not certain of that."

"You would." Marietta insisted, "If you thought I had been fired for telling the truth, you'd stab the president of the network in the neck with one of your heels. You don't have to like me to feel that way; you believe in the sanctity of this network like I do. That's why we're here. That's why I came back to the network after all these years. Like it or not, I trust BBC's journalism more than I trust anyone else. If they push you out, then it's all gone to shit. I don't want to work in shit."

"I also don't want to work in shit."

"Good. Do you need something?"

"No," Hermione replied, "I suppose I don't."

"I didn't tell anyone my name was on the list until Cedric read it off. If I don't show up on Monday, my producer's murdered me and tossed my body in the Thames. Toodles."

Marietta ended the call and Hermione stared down at the phone until the screen went black. She grumbled,

"She's supporting me because not supporting me makes her look bad."

Draco countered, "She is supporting you because you are worth supporting."

Hermione climbed into bed and sank backward onto the pillows, unsure that was true. Life in bed with Draco Malfoy seemed far preferable to everything else. Hermione heard Draco's reply quite clearly in her mind.

You can have both.

Hermione tapped Cedric's name on her phone and was not surprised when he answered halfway through the first ring.

"Partner!"

"You," said Hermione, "should not have done that. I don't know whether to hug you or strangle you."

"Come off it, Hermione, everything is working out. England's trending topics on Twitter are #CedricDiggory, #HermioneGranger, #BoycottBBC, and, somehow, #BritishBitchCorporation." Cedric paused before saying, "I like that one. Someone should put it on a hat."

"Ced—"

"Why do you sound upset? I thought you would be excited to get your job back."

Hermione fumed, "How does you facilitating a strike of our entire team and stepping away from the anchor spot get me my job back?"

There was a brief pause before Cedric laughed.

"Are you serious?"

"Cedric."

"Hermione, my noncompete clause is only good for a year. If we're both gone from BBC and reappear in 366 days on ITV? The network won't recover from that for twenty-five years. Don't think this was noble, it was calculated."

"If you didn't know ITV would pick you up, if you didn't believe you would get your job back," Hermione asked, "would you still have done it?"

"Of course."

"Then it sounds noble to me."

"Well what good is having this influence if I don't use it? If they push you out, what does that say to the aspiring journalists who look to us as a roadmap? That doing your job to the best of your ability will get you sacked? Telling truth to power will get you blown up? Fuck that, I care too much about the truth to let that happen."

"Which is why I am honoured to sit next to you every day, Cedric."

"Wish everyone felt that way."

Hermione sighed and insisted, "Parvati will come around."

"She's dumped me three times, now. Even I can get that message."

"Three times?"

"When I asked her to marry me, she said no and told me to move out of our flat. When we went to the party, she dumped me again and I left. Then she phoned me a couple weeks ago to dump me again."

Hermione was shocked to hear that. Parvati was not at all vindictive. Padma was vindictive. Parvati was kinder, more traditional, and Hermione would never have believed she was doing so wrong by Cedric.

"That's awful of her Ced, and she shouldn't be doing that to you."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine."

"Hermione, can we focus on getting our desk back?"

"No! Sod the desk, Ti is my friend and she should not be treating you that way. I know this has been a horrible time for her, but that doesn't mean she needs to make it horrible for you, too."

"She's pushing me away," said Cedric. "Pavi wants someone who loves her immediately, the way Bas fell for Padma. I'm not that sort of man. I liked her immediately. She shook my hand when we met and said, 'I can ask you to fuck me in six languages, is there one you prefer?'"

Hermione laughed.

"That sounds like her."

"I'm slow to love, you know? I'm slow at it, I dunno why, always have been. But I really, really love her. I've never been with a woman who, when we're at a party, people speak to her before they speak to me. It's usually 'Cedric and girlfriend,' but with her it was 'Parvati and Cedric.' She's so charming. I asked her to marry me and I suppose I did that because I didn't know what else to do."

"I'll talk to her."

"That will only serve to make me more pathetic."

Hermione repeated, "I'll talk to her."

"And say what?"

"That she is in a lot of pain, and she's refusing to say she is causing you pain, too."

Cedric paused for a long while on the other end. His voice was low when he agreed,

"Okay."

"Marietta says your resignation from NUJ doesn't need to be permanent."

"They'll reinstate me when I have my job back. You can't be a delegate for broadcast if you're not on a broadcast. I never thought I would get to organize a strike."

Hermione hesitated to ask, "Was it true?"

"If you'd like to provide some specificity—"

"That you only gave the network my name. Your list of potential co-anchors was just my name?"

"Oh," Cedric laughed, "yes. They were apoplectic about it. 'You can't take Granger out of the field, we're hoping to put her on Newsnight.' But I knew if I had to share a desk I wanted it to be with someone who wasn't insufferable. I wanted someone who gave a shit about Mongolia."

"Mongolia?"

"It's the first country I thought of just now. To be honest, I couldn't point to Mongolia on a map. I am an expert in British government, the British economy, British this and British that. I nearly shit myself every time something major happened in a foreign country that I had to cover alone. No matter where BBC sent you, it seemed you uncovered the most fascinating and heartbreaking stories. That's the person I wanted to share a desk with."

That was sweet. The only thing Hermione could think to say in reply was,

"I was rejected by Newsnight when I applied."

There was a brief beat of disbelief before Cedric shouted into his phone.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Just a bit before I received your first offer, I applied to Newsnight. Their producers rejected me; said I was an entertainer more than I was a reporter."

"I'll kill them." Cedric said, "Give me names."

Hermione revealed, "They told me my hair was too big, my tits were too big, and my CV was too small."

"Your CV?" Cedric asked, aghast. "You don't have a worthy CV?"

"So they say."

"Why would they say that?"

"They're afraid of me, Ced. Everyone is afraid of me."

"Well, I'm not. We're in this together, and that's the end of it. I'm hanging up before I can get any angrier on your behalf. Let me know when BBC phones to beg you to come back."

He ended the call. Hermione shook her head and looked over to see Draco scrolling through Twitter on his phone. She said,

"I thought you didn't have social media."

"Bas logged me into his accounts so I can browse when needed."

"Ah."

"I, um …" Draco frowned down at his phone. "I've been looking at the articles about the two of us. The photographs of us are fantastic, by the way. The one making the rounds is us at lunch, you tossing blueberries into my mouth."

Hermione felt herself blush when she said, "I really enjoyed today."

"They love us on social media. They think my son is adorable for waving to paparazzi, and they are recirculating the comparisons of us in the blue jumper."

"I love that jumper."

"I love your tits in that jumper."

Hermione asked, "Are they saying anything about your father?"

"No." Draco frowned down at the phone and shook his head. "They're not. BBC is the enemy now, and the public has determined I am on the right side of their line. I thought I'd be happier about it."

"Don't bother basking in the victory. If I've learned anything, it's that public disapproval is always waiting around the corner."

"Shifting the subject, may I say something about your friend?"

"Parvati?" Hermione guessed.

"When I lost my wife, there was a long while where I lost my son, as well. I was no father to him. I pushed everyone away until I found where Tori's body was. Then I could grieve, only then could I say goodbye. I think Parvati would do well with a proper goodbye to the baby she lost."

"Oh." Hermione conceded, "That's rather insightful of you."

Draco quipped, "Grief is an area in which I consider myself an expert."

Hermione snuggled closer to him as Draco wrapped his arm around her waist. These quiet moments had eluded her for so long, she was learning to take them in slowly. The casual way Draco spread his fingers across her thigh. How he always positioned himself on her right side. He chose a cologne that smelled clean. She could never pick out individual notes; his scent was only ever a lingering smell of clean. Draco left his hair down and everything about this moment together was lazy. The tension left her slowly, as Draco narrated the shellacking BBC was taking online.

"There's an article in The Economist titled, 'BBC's Brilliantly Bad Choice,' which seems to be a complete turnabout from the way they viewed your sacking twelve hours ago. Amnesty International refers to you as 'Amnesty Media Award Winner' at least five times in their statement about this mess." Draco frowned down at his phone before asking, "Did you win an award from Reporters Without Borders?"

Hermione groaned.

"Every journalism and international reporting nonprofit gave me an award after I got blown up."

"You don't seem pleased by that."

"I didn't want awards, I wanted my arm back. I wanted my job back."

Draco offered, "I think 'Press Freedom Prize Winner' is impressive."

"You think everything I do is impressive."

"I fear, golden girl, someday you will have to accept that you are, in fact, impressive."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. She tapped Roger Davies's number from one of Cedric's texts. She placed the call on speaker and listened to one, two, three rings before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Roger."

"Granger!" His voice boomed through the phone when he said, "Great to hear from you. Sorry to hear you got sacked; hopefully our mini-strike will force BBC's hand."

"Why have you signed up to help me?" asked Hermione. "You're on a different network."

"Well Ced phoned, told me what he was planning, and I told him to throw my name in there. No sense in sitting out on something you believe in, you know?"

"And you believe in me?"

"Of course! Who doesn't believe in you? You've got balls, Granger, bigger ones than most men I know that's for sure."

"Bit of an odd compliment, but I appreciate it."

"Hah. You know, I was going to ask you out last year. Couldn't do it because I was afraid. Ced told me your arm's fucked up, and I thought, wait … You're telling me that woman is permanently disabled and she's so good at her job that nobody's noticed? Forget Amnesty International, you should be winning a BAFTA."

Hermione laughed, but Davies didn't stop.

"I was so intimidated; all I do is talk about football most of the day, yeah? Then you … You change the world. I kept looking myself in the mirror and wondering, 'Am I man enough to take that on?' And I kept coming up with maybes. I didn't want you to take a chance on a maybe. Then I saw you hooked up with Viktor Krum and I know I'm a great shag but I'm not Viktor bloody Krum, you know what I mean? Now it's Malfoy and … I saw the pictures of you two and I'm so fucking glad I didn't ask you out because I know that's more than a maybe."

Hermione's heart softened even more toward him.

"Draco is the last person I would have expected to be with, yet it's made me happier than I've been in years."

"I get that."

"I've got more calls to make, but Roger?"

"Yeah?"

"You're good at what you do, and you're a good man."

"Thanks, Hermione. I appreciate you saying that."

"I appreciate you standing up for me." She paused before adding, "That took balls."

He laughed.

"Alright, you get on with it, now."

Davies hung up the phone and Hermione shook her head. What an oddly delightful conversation. Hermione looked over at Draco to see his cheeks had turned pink. Hermione nudged him with her good elbow and asked,

"What has you blushing, Malfoy?"

"It's nice to hear someone say I am more than a maybe, is all."

"Do I not say that?"

"No." Draco tried to shrug it off. "Everything you say you like about me is, 'Thank you for being here.' Or, 'The sex is very good.' Of course you love my son, but there's not much about me that you seem to like."

That wasn't true, was it? She must've told him …

"I see why you think that." Hermione admitted, "I sort of thought it was obvious why I like you, because everything about you is so interesting."

"Me?" Draco asked, shocked. "I am interesting? Hermione, how could you think I'm interesting when you've been around the world and do so many incredible things?"

"It's not all that impressive to make a living telling other peoples' stories."

Draco scoffed, "Stop downplaying your accomplishments, Hermione. Your dismissiveness is offensive to everyone who lost out on those awards. You survived an assignment so dangerous you got four million quid just to keep your mouth shut about it. As Davies said just now, you are so good at hiding your disability that you have spent four days every week of the past four years on national television and nobody's noticed your arm can barely function. Hell, on our double-date with McLaggen I didn't notice you hadn't moved your arm until you told me you can't move your arm."

That was a fair point. Treating those awards as nothing would be rather offensive to the people who hadn't won. As if it was so easy? Hermione thought back to that year after her injury. How Ron had to wheel her onstage in a chair to accept those awards because she had neither the energy nor the ability to walk on her own. It was embarrassing to be trotted out on those occasions like an injured show pony.

"Every day since the incident," said Hermione, "my goal has been to make it appear I'm fine. It's not the awards themselves that I'm bitter about. I hate that they were given to me out of pity."

"They weren't given to you out of pity. BBC sent you on an assignment that destroyed your life as you'd known it. You refuse to blame anyone, you returned to the job, and you're one of the best foreign affairs journalists in the world. When—" Draco glanced down to his phone and read off, "The Society of Editors gave you the award for Foreign Affairs Journalist of the Year, I damn well think they knew what they were doing."

Hermione said, "I've won that award twice, actually. First for the Umbridge interview, then second for getting blown up."

"Fucking hell." Draco shook his head and said, "You are incredible."

Hermione's phone vibrated in her hand. It was a call from Penelope, so Hermione assumed BBC had made a first-round offer. They would discuss strategy, send it back, and … Hermione still wasn't certain she wanted her job. Perhaps Penelope would talk her into the proper answer. She answered the call with an exhausted,

"Hello?"

"Hermione," Penelope's voice was strong and clear, "I am on the line with BBC's Director of Journalism, the CEO of BBC News and Current Affairs, their Director of Workplace, and the HR Director."

Hermione frowned. No strategy prep? Penelope said, "I am on the line with" these people. Perhaps … Oh. Penelope hadn't initiated this call. They were so desperate to get her back that they'd gotten this group together and crafted an emergency life raft for themselves. Hermione asked,

"Why are you phoning me?"

A voice Hermione knew belonged to the HR Director said, "We are here to discuss your return to BBC News at Ten."

"Shouldn't you be phoning Cedric first? He's the anchor, I am co-anchor."

"Mr. Diggory made it quite clear you are a package deal."

"Ah." Hermione quipped, "Is the chair busy?"

"We did not believe we needed him on this call."

"Then I am not needed on this call."

Hermione hung up and tossed her phone toward the end of the bed. She leaned back on the pillows and smiled up at the ceiling. God, that felt good.

"That," Draco rolled onto his side and pulled Hermione close, "was the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed."

"Do you think they'll phone back?"

"Oh, yes." Draco pushed Hermione's hair to one side and gently pressed his lips against the side of her neck. "Because you're indispensable."

Hermione laid in that warmth for several minutes. Draco didn't try for another round of sex, he simply kept kissing Hermione in the most delicate way. She felt as bold as ever, yet soft in his arms. It had been so long since she allowed someone to care for her like this, and Draco Malfoy was worth every day it took to get here.

"Hermione?"

She cracked one eye open and grumbled, "Why are you ruining the moment?"

"Because your phone's vibrating."

"Oh."

Draco bent to scoop it up and Hermione answered just in time.

"Hello?"

Penelope's voice came through the speaker.

"Hermione, I am on the line with BBC's Director of Journalism, the CEO of BBC News and Current Affairs, their Director of Workplace, the HR Director, the Director of Marketing and Audiences, and the BBC Chair. They have prepared an offer for you, which the Director of Journalism will present at this time."

"Thank you, Miss Clearwater."

Hermione was a bit stunned. In ten minutes they'd wrangled the network chair and the director of marketing? Perhaps she was in a better negotiating position than she realized. She put herself on mute to quickly ask Draco,

"How much of a shitstorm is BBC in right now?"

"Blaise would suggest they begin building an ark and bringing in department heads two by two."

"Right." Hermione unmuted herself and said, "I am ready to hear your offer."

The Director of Workforce said, "We are offering first and foremost our sincere apology for your termination. The BBC prides itself on fair and equitable treatment of—"

"Apologies," Hermione said, "but you have phoned me, a woman who is no longer an employee of your network, at ten forty-five in the evening. I was snogging my boyfriend in bed when you phoned, and that is of far higher priority to me than your atrociously insincere attempt at an apology. Give me the offer or I am ending the call."

The response was immediate.

"We are offering a public apology for your termination, we will increase your salary to match Diggory's, and we will sign you both to a five-year contract."

Out of shock more than anything, Hermione asked, "Cedric makes more money than me?"

"Fifty thousand pounds more annually, yes," the HR Director confirmed.

"But we do the same job."

"No." The CEO of News said, "Diggory opens the show. You sit to the side while he says, 'Good evening, welcome to BBC News at Ten, I am Cedric Diggory.' Then you say, 'And I am Hermione Granger.' You are an and. He is the anchor and you are the co-anchor. Matching your salaries is an unconventional and borderline offensive step for us to take."

Hermione couldn't speak. After all this, a public shitstorm of bad press, they still found it within themselves to belittle her. Draco began rubbing small circles onto the top of her hand with the pad of his thumb as if to say, I am here. I know how powerful you are, and so do you. Thankfully, Penelope jumped into the conversation.

"My client is deeply offended by your offer."

The Director of Marketing and Audiences asked, "What would you like, Ms. Granger?"

Penelope jumped in again before Hermione could respond.

"Hermione has received an open offer from ITV to anchor their six o'clock news broadcast, which will directly compete with BBC News at Six. Your ratings will plummet. My client is a quintessential part of the credibility of this network, and her noncompete clause is nullified by wrongful termination. She has tentatively accepted the offer from ITV with a start date in four weeks' time."

Penelope was lying through her teeth, and it was brilliant. Hermione felt no need to interrupt.

"If you want Hermione to come back, which, it is my understanding is the only way to get your golden boy back in the seat at Ten, we have a list of requests. First, Hermione wants a public apology from BBC, she wants it from the Chair, and it must be on camera. Second, Hermione wants her salary equal to that of Cedric Diggory, and she will no longer introduce herself on air as an 'and.' Third, BBC will make a twenty thousand pound donation to Reporters Without Borders. Finally, Hermione is requesting release from her NDA."

"No." The Chair jumped in and said, "That is out of the question."

"Then we walk," said Penelope. "Cedric Diggory's noncompete clause is good for one year, and ITV will present him with their ten o'clock program in a year's time."

All the background noise seemed to cease. Every single BBC representative on the call had placed themselves on mute. Penelope was pushing them too far with the NDA. Hermione concentrated on the gentle pressure of Draco's fingers as he held her hand. She said,

"I have an alternate proposal for you."

The BBC Chair unmuted himself to say, "Name your price."

"I want the public apology. It does not have to be on camera, but I won't accept a blanket 'we apologise for terminating you.' I want you to admit it was wrongful termination and my interview with Gilderoy Lockhart did not violate journalism ethics."

The Director of Audience said, "We agree to that stipulation. What's next?"

"I will agree to a forty thousand pound increase in salary. Cedric deserves to make more because he is the senior anchor, but I want parity."

The HR Director confirmed, "We will accept."

"Third, I want BBC to make the donation to Reporters Without Borders as official acknowledgement BBC was responsible for the assignment has left me permanently …" Hermione grimaced and tried to find a word that didn't feel like rubbish. "Permanently limited."

"Done," said the CEO of BBC News. "Is there a fourth?"

"Yes." Hermione took a deep breath before saying, "I want a three-month sabbatical to spend time with my family."

Draco hugged Hermione around the waist and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She placed her hand on his arm and waited for the reply. The Director of Workforce offered,

"Could you accept ten weeks?"

Hermione did the math in her head. Ten weeks from July 11th. Or, rather, July 15th when her next broadcast would be expected. Ten weeks would be the Monday following her birthday. She will have spent Draco's birthday, Scorpius's birthday, and her own birthday with her family. Perfect.

"Yes."

"Then we're finished here," said Penelope. "Hermione, I will review the contract and send it for your signature tomorrow. You can hang up the phone, and I will add Cedric Diggory to the call to begin negotiations for his return this Monday."

"Thank you, everyone."

Hermione ended the call on her end and sent two quick texts. The first to Cedric:

I'm coming back to broadcast in ten weeks. BBC agreed to a £40000 salary increase and a donation to RSF. Please tell everyone they can go back to work.

The second to Penelope.

You are amazing. I would be nowhere without you.

Penelope replied with a red heart and, You would be where you are meant to be.

Draco took the phone from Hermione's hand and placed it on the bedside table. He asked,

"Do you plan to stay with me for ten weeks?"

"I do." She admitted, "I think the only way for me to figure out whether maman is who I want to be, is to dedicate time to your son."

He grinned and asked, "Do you accept bribes, Granger?"

"Wha—"

Hermione yelped as Draco grabbed her by the waist and pulled her toward the end of the bed. She used her right arm to lift herself up the slightest bit and ask,

"What are you doing?"

"What Malfoy men do best." He pulled off Hermione's knickers and said, "Bribery."

.oOo.

Hermione woke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. She was on her stomach, on top of Draco, whose hand rested lazily on her bum. The knocking continued, accompanied by shouts of,

"DAD!"

Draco groaned and shouted back, "Scorpius, are you alive?!"

"I THINK SO!"

"Is your friend alive?!"

The banging paused as if he ran into the other bedroom to check, before he returned.

"YES!"

"Then get dressed and I will be out in five minutes."

"OKAY!"

They heard the pitter-patter of Scorpius's feet on the floor as he returned to the bedroom. Draco gave Hermione's bum a gentle squeeze and said,

"This is a phenomenal way to begin a morning."

Hermione admitted, "I feel a bit odd knowing I don't go to work on Monday."

"I feel fanbloodytastic knowing that I get to wake up like this tomorrow, and the next day, and the next and the next and the next for week after week on end." Draco hummed softly to himself, shifted out from beneath Hermione, and hopped off the bed. "When I was with my wife, I assumed we had decades of mornings left between us. I know better, now, than to take my mornings with you for granted."

Hermione felt herself blush. It was too early in the morning for Draco to say such sweet things. She had changed into her pyjamas just before falling asleep. Thank goodness for that, because Scorpius burst through the door and leapt onto the bed shouting,

"HERMIONE!"

He hugged her so tightly that Hermione couldn't help but smile. She teased,

"Was yesterday the best day ever?"

"YES!" Scorpius replied with wide eyes. "I had my best friend and my dad and maman and food and the Eye and puzzles!"

"Do you know what made yesterday the best day ever for me?" asked Hermione.

Scorpius shook his head. She placed her hands on his shoulders and said,

"You."

"Oi!" Draco came out of the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth. His hair was a mess and he had changed into a pair of proper trousers but hadn't gotten 'round to fastening them. "Did I not say five minutes?"

Scorpius frowned and turned to face his father with the saddest, most apologetic look on his face.

"I wanted to say good morning."

"You've said good morning, now go." Draco used his toothbrush to point toward the door. "You don't interrupt people before they've dressed."

"Except for me." Hermione gave Scorpius one last, quick hug and said, "You can always tell me good morning, baby blond."

"Thank you, maman!"

Scorpius pressed a quick kiss to her cheek then rushed toward the door shouting, "AL! IT'S MORNING! WAKE UP!"

Hermione sat on the bed, suddenly rather terrified. Maman. She wasn't ready to hear that. Draco returned to the bathroom and came out fully dressed. He had spun his hair into a messy bun and looked a bit concerned.

"I will talk to him about it again."

"I don't …" Hermione twisted the bedsheet between her fingers. "I don't wish to discourage him from seeing me that way."

"It's okay. Everything you feel about this is perfectly fine, Hermione. I don't know what I'm doing as a parent; I don't expect you to know, either."

That was good. That felt good. Not knowing was never a place Hermione wanted to be, but if Draco was there with her then they could do this as a team.

Draco and Scorpius said goodbye to Hermione after breakfast. Albus was busy trying to wiggle out of Scorpius's hug. Scorpius insisted,

"I don' want to leave!"

Albus huffed, "It's okay, best friend."

"I miss you."

"Scorp," Draco ruffled his hair, "you will see Albus in two weeks for your birthday party." Draco kissed Hermione goodbye innocently, well aware that Scorpius and Albus were watching. He said, "I will see you tonight at the manor?"

"Me, my jaguar, and as many shoes as I can fit in it."

"If all you're planning to wear at my house is shoes, golden girl, that is perfectly alright with me," he teased.

And the goodbyes ended as Hermione closed the door behind them. Albus sat on the sofa while Hermione waited for another knock on her door.

When she opened the door, Dean said, "Malfoy didn't see me."

"Excellent." Hermione let him inside and shut the door behind them. "Packing, then we drop off Al, and then … Well. You know."

Dean clapped his hands together and said, "Let's get on with it, then."

.oOo.

Dean pulled Hermione's car into Blaise's drive and parked. They sat in silence for a moment, each aware that this shouldn't feel quite as scandalous as it did. Dean looked at her and asked,

"What did you say to him?"

"Hmm?"

"When you phoned Blaise, what did you say to him?"

"I said it seems he is Scorpius's anchor in life, and I want to know how to step into that life without disrupting their relationship."

Dean nodded to himself.

"He's very anxious."

"About talking to me?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Talking about the first few years of Scorpius's life is very difficult for him. The same way talking about my divorce is difficult for me."

"Oh."

"I know how good you are at getting answers from people, and I don't want you pulling on any threads that may hurt him. We are visiting my family for the first time tomorrow, and I don't want him questioning things."

Hermione insisted, "It's just a conversation, Dean."

"I know, I know, but I've got Shea in my head." Dean ran a hand through his hair and revealed, "Blaise met him at a pub a month or so ago. They've been chatting on Instagram, he sends Shea photographs of us that he doesn't post publicly. Which I don't mind, I like that Shea gets to see me happier with someone else. Don't mind rubbing his face in it."

"It's what he deserves. And it is what you deserve."

"I thought it would be weirder, dating someone so heavily involved in their ex's life. Seeing as I haven't seen or spoken to Seamus in two years, I believed people severed that connection for good reason. Looking at how Blaise is with Malfoy, though, plus you and Ron …" Dean shrugged. "I have to wonder whether I've just been an asshole these past few years and Shea deserves a bit more—"

"He deserves nothing from you," Hermione insisted, "which is what he's got."

"It's funny, because Blaise likes him."

"Of course he likes Seamus, everyone likes Seamus. He has a fascinating job, he's funny, he's wealthy, I imagine gay men like that he's fit, as well. Everyone likes Seamus, and everyone likes you. That's why you made a decent couple for as long as you did. It doesn't change what he did to you, nor does it change how he treated you during the divorce. If either of you is an asshole, I'd put my money on it being the man who committed infidelity, took away every bit of safety his husband had, and lost all his childhood friends in the process."

Dean nodded to himself, and grumbled, "I still feel I'm doing something wrong."

Before Hermione could say another word, Dean was out of the car and making his way to the front door. Dean always tried to see the best in everyone, and Hermione imagined he must be frustrated trying to figure out what Blaise saw in Seamus. Dean harbored a lot of emotions about his divorce, and he had every right to be spiteful about it. The only problem was that Dean was too kind a soul to think it was an acceptable way to feel. Hermione exited the car and followed behind Dean, who … unlocked the door? Dean was over often enough to have a key? She stepped across the threshold behind Dean and followed him through the foyer into the kitchen.

Blaise was taste testing one of several dishes spread across the large metal countertop. Dean walked over to Blaise and hugged him around the shoulders. He looked at the countertop and asked,

"Did you leave anything in the fridge?"

"Which one?"

Dean laughed and smiled so wide his eyes crinkled a bit at the corners. Blaise looked up and stole a kiss before returning his attention to one of the plates. Dean looked happier than Hermione had seen him in years, and she wondered whether there would be a time when Dean could look at her and say the same. She thought back to how perfect it was to be snuggled into Draco's chest the prior night. Perhaps that was the happiness Hermione was missing. Dean told Blaise,

"I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Then he was off. Dean nodded to Hermione before taking the stairs two at a time. Blaise turned toward her and said,

"I made you croquetas."

Draco mentioned Blaise would make croquetas for difficult conversations, and Hermione was relieved. It was good to know he was taking this conversation as seriously as Hermione intended to. She placed her bag on one of the barstools and took in all the smells of Zabini's kitchen. The croquetas smelled of ham and cheese. There were warm slices of bread drizzled with olive oil, laying on the table off to one side. Some sort of fish was the focus of yet another dish—

"It seems like you made far more than croquetas."

"I cook to relieve stress." Blaise looked around and admitted, "I did not realize I was so anxious about this conversation. You asked about what it means to be part of Draco's family, and it brings to the surface many uncomfortable, shameful feelings for me."

"Shameful?" Hermione insisted, "This may be Draco's family, but it seems you have been the anchor for Scorpius his entire life. I want to know what happened three years ago, I want to know what happened six years ago, and you are the only person who can properly paint the picture."

Blaise pushed the platter of croquetas toward Hermione.

"Please."

Hermione managed to hop onto the centre barstool. She tentatively grabbed a croqueta and bit into it gently, but it wasn't too hot. The ham was perfectly cooked and the cheese had melted into a delightful, gooey mess. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned softly.

"My God, this is delicious."

She opened her eyes to see Blaise Zabini blushing. He teased,

"You never forget your first croqueta."

"Oh? Do I detect a joke?"

"It has been known to happen." Blaise glanced quickly down at the countertop as he remembered the importance of this conversation. "To properly paint our family picture, I suppose it comprises the four of us: myself, Draco, Theo, and Bastien. We all have distinctly different sexual preferences, which I find rather silly. We are very different people."

"Perhaps that was true in the beginning, but I would venture to say you aren't so different anymore."

"Perhaps not. Draco and Bastien are the sort to make immediate judgments of people and whether they are worthy of their time, which I experienced very young. I moved to England when I was seven; I didn't speak the language and my mother did not care to teach me. When you are seven years old and quite so obviously gay as I was, most of the boys hated me and none knew enough about my mother to be afraid."

Blaise was quiet for a long while. He stared at the floor, then up at the ceiling, then finally looked at Hermione to say,

"My mother ripped me from everything and everyone I knew to come marry her second husband in England. I was tutored privately at home until I saw her push him over the balcony when I was eight. Then she decided it was best to send me away."

Oh.

Blaise waved a hand and admitted, "The first several weeks at school were miserable. I didn't need to understand the language to understand what was said about me. I stared at the words on a page praying for just one to make sense. One day before class, a boy came and sat next to me. Didn't say anything, just sat there during the lesson. Halfway through, he tossed a bit of paper onto my desk. It said, in rather awful Italian, 'My name is Bastien. Sit with me at lunch.'" Blaise grinned and said, "He spent afternoons in the library learning a few phrases so I would feel I had a friend."

"That sounds like something he would do."

"His group had a few more in it back then, probably about eight boys in total. Theo was one, and we fell in together rather quickly because we are both quite conservative. At Bastien's table, however, was a blond boy with wide eyes and a ridiculous smirk who spent the whole meal making everyone laugh. I knew straightaway I wanted to kiss him. At seven years old, you think kissing means you will be together forever. I fell in love with him immediately and never grew out of it."

"You've been in love with Draco for," Hermione frowned as she calculated, "twenty-seven years?"

"Yes."

"Did you ask him out, or did he ask you?"

"I asked him." Blaise looked at the wall for a moment before adding, "He was going a bit too hard in the club scene. Theo and I were never partiers, though I went to the clubs when I needed low-effort company. Bas and Draco were into the more flamboyant aspects of the nightclubs, particularly the nudity and cocaine. I watched him spiral deeper into it because he didn't know what else to be."

"Cocaine?"

"Yes. I asked Draco out because I believed he would see another life for himself, one in which he would be happy." Blaise revealed, "He didn't love me at the beginning. Being with me was the first time he had sex with the same person month after month on end. He had not understood that performing for a random person he would only shag once was different from the type of intimacy he could get from a relationship like the one I offered. Most of that was social because bisexuality was so ill-defined. People expected Draco to lead with his cock so he went where it took him."

"You changed all that, I presume."

"No." Blaise shook his head and said, "Draco came to that realization himself. I laid out the rules for our relationship and explained what commitment looked like to me. If he didn't wish to travel that path, he could have said no. Our year together was nice, but he enjoyed it more than I did. Draco was still a boy in many ways, and I grew tired waiting for him to be the man I knew he would be. I preferred to keep myself available for the man I knew would come."

"Not for another decade, it seems," said Hermione.

Blaise shrugged.

"Believe me when I say there is no universe where I don't find my way to Dean Thomas. Whether at thirty-four or eighty-four, I have little care as long as I get to hear that man say he loves me."

Hermione envied the conviction in Blaise's voice. The ease with which he confessed his love for Dean was so quintessentially Italian, and somehow also unique to Blaise Zabini. He had torn the slice of bread into the tiniest manageable pieces, so he reached for another and began to build a small mountain of bread bits.

"Draco phoned me after his first date with Astoria. She was a beautiful, striking woman. Quite tall with a deep voice that drew men in. That is why she found success in the opera at such a young age; that voice was incredible. I remember Draco's words on that call so clearly. He said, 'I just met the woman I am going to marry, and I wouldn't have been ready for her if you hadn't taught me. I love you. Thank you.'"

She wondered, "Were you jealous?"

"No. It is not as though I am ever searching for company."

"Obviously. I have never seen a more beautiful person in my life."

"Then you never met my mother." Blaise's eyes went dark for a moment as though he was lost in a distant memory. He shook himself out of it and said, "Draco was never going to marry me. I think I knew it at the time, but the Malfoy legacy is a crushing burden to bear. He needed a straight white wife to fulfill his duty. Draco's responsibility to the line is paramount to anything else, and Astoria checked every box I didn't. I was the best man at their wedding, and when she died …"

Blaise tossed a bit of bread into his mouth and took his time chewing. He stared down at the countertop deep in thought. He swallowed the bread then reached for a glass of water. Hermione reminded herself not to be irritated, this was simply how he spoke. Frustrating as the silence was, she found him far easier to talk to than she anticipated. Blaise placed the water glass on the tabletop and admitted,

"I do not wish to tell you about that time in our lives because I fear it will colour your perception of Draco. I don't want to be responsible for him losing another woman he loves."

Hermione insisted, "I came to you for the truth. I love Draco, but I want to know how he became the man he is now."

"Draco couldn't hold his son."

Oh.

"He will never admit to it. However, the fact remains that for many weeks after Astoria's death Draco felt responsible, and he was afraid he would fail his son in the same way."

Hermione's heart ached for Draco, bearing that burden at twenty-eight. He must have been so unprepared for the heartache of losing that love, the grief of losing his wife, and the responsibility of being a father to a son who would forever know he was alive at the cost of his mother's life.

"Astoria's sister, Daphne, was originally named as Scorpius's godmother. After the Greengrasses stole Astoria's body and her name, Draco refused to let them see his son. I offered to step in because I was Catholic and believed Scorpius deserved to be properly introduced to the church. I thought I would be responsible for the christening, the baptism, the weekly mass … I did not know I would become a father."

"You believe you were?"

"I had to be." Blaise revealed, "Narcissa was trying to keep her family together and was one bad day away from burning the Greengrass's house to the ground. Theo had twins. Bastien would be a terrible father. And Draco …" Blaise got lost in a memory. His voice dropped a bit when he said, "Draco was lost. He never overtly attempted suicide, but he pushed the cocaine and alcohol combination to its limit. I would not leave Scorpius with him. Someone had to protect that child, and I loved Draco enough to dedicate my life to it."

"Where do I fit in, then?" asked Hermione. "You needed to be a father to him. I'm unsure whether it's right to even try to be a mother to him."

Blaise replied, "You and I are not the same. I chose to care for Scorpius because no one else could. I made that decision of my own volition. Scorpius has chosen you to be his mother. That is a far heavier responsibility than the one I carry."

Hermione popped the fingers of her right hand one at a time. Pinkie. Pop. Ring finger. Pop. Middle finger. Pop. Index finger. Pop. She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth before admitting,

"I'm not ready."

"You will be."

"But I'm not. Scorpius and Draco are ready for me to take on that role, but I'm not. You chose this, you were ready for it."

Blaise smiled and laughed rather softly.

"I was on video chat with Theo and Tracey constantly. I knew nothing about caring for an infant, so I leaned on everyone else. Ginny was quite helpful because Al was only a few months older and we often worked caring for them in tandem. I learned, and eventually Draco found it in himself to start taking over some of the work. Once Bastien found Astoria's resting place, Draco was able to say goodbye. It lifted a burden off him I did not understand until I saw him put Astoria to rest the way she deserved. I am grateful to you for doing that."

Hermione insisted, "You paid for it."

"Money is everything, and money is also nothing."

"Why did you consider it so important that Scorpius know religion?" asked Hermione. "Was it important to you?"

"That wall," Blaise gestured to the wall of built-ins just barely visible in the living room beyond, "was once covered in Catholic paraphernalia. Statues of saints, crucifixes, rosaries, anything I felt looked like it belonged on my wall. I had a large painting of the crucifixion in the centre there. I had a holy water font in the uppermost built-in on the right. That is the only bit of the wall still present; some things are too ingrained. Over to the left was an Immaculate Heart of Mary painting. I was quite tacky in my selections. The rest of the house was perfect, but this was my faith scattered about the wall."

"None of your friends seem particularly religious."

"No. No, it was always me alone."

"Is that why you stopped considering yourself religious? Since you were alone, I mean."

Blaise went quiet again and refused to meet Hermione's gaze. She knew to wait it out. There was tension building between Blaise's hands. She watched him grab yet another slice and craft a stronger base for the bread mountain on the plate.

"I left the church because Draco asked me to marry him."

"Draco mentioned that to me." Hermione admitted, "I don't care much about it; I believe you when you say Dean is the man you are committed to."

"I am also committed to the way I see myself, and Draco made me doubt that. He came here and confessed his love for me. Draco said I was as good as Scorpius's father, so we should make it official. Then he kissed me." Blaise frowned. "Draco had become a man far more versed in his businesses than his own son. I saw Draco was becoming his father and I hated it. To know Draco was using me as a crutch; he was using me as an excuse to be a distant father. I took great offense."

"I don't blame you."

"I forced him off me and pushed him out the door. I told him that was the most selfish thing he had ever done and I hated him for it. I didn't speak to him or see Scorpius for a month. That is why I missed Bastien's elopement; I presumed Draco would attend."

"Draco told me he missed the elopement because he did not wish to see Bastien find love when he had lost his."

"That is most likely true. I believe that was the root cause of his breakdown."

"Breakdown?"

"He drove himself into a tree somewhere near Marlborough."

"Oh."

"To have this man I loved for nearly twenty-five years view me as he did? In Draco, I saw humour and beauty and all the things the church tells us are God's gift to humanity. Yet, when Draco looked at me he saw a live-in nanny he knew to be a good shag. I am far more than that. I felt God had twisted and remolded the love I had for Draco into something demeaning and shameful; that is why I left the church."

Hermione didn't believe that for a moment. She could see in his eyes that he was lying. Blaise Zabini was, in this at least, a fairly easy book to read, but Hermione knew better than to push him on it. She grabbed a slice of bread and began to build the mountain upward from its new base. Hermione ripped the tiniest piece of the crust and placed it on the plate. Another tiny piece. Yet another piece. She popped the next piece into her mouth.

"To me," she tossed another bit of bread onto their mountain, "it seems Draco asked you to marry him because he wanted to be closer to his son. Nobody is closer to Scorpius than you, which is why I'm here. You left religion because Draco drove himself into a tree. You blame God for the grief that drove the wedge between you, that made Draco into a man you hardly recognized."

"Do you believe in God, Hermione?"

That gave her pause. It shouldn't have, it was the most obvious question given the conversation. Hermione supposed Blaise asked because he considered himself responsible for Scorpius's religious upbringing. Hermione felt she and Blaise understood each other remarkably well in some areas, but could not be further apart in this. She offered,

"My parents were very religious; we went to my father's childhood church in Eastbourne, a tiny Baptist place. I never fit in because I asked too many questions."

"That is an incomplete answer."

Hermione glanced toward the barely-visible wall in the snug and tried to imagine it as Blaise described. If she intended to be part of Scorpius's life as stepmum, mum #2, maman, or any of the things Scorpius wished to call her … Hermione owed Blaise a complete, honest answer. She ripped some more bread and placed it closer to the top as she tried, once again, to give Blaise the answer he deserved.

"When I was dying, I was thousands of kilometres away from anyone I loved and anyone who loved me. The very last thing I remember was running through the final words I said to everyone I cared for. The only bit of comfort I had was hope that, somehow, the love I had for them would continue to be felt after I was gone. I suppose I don't care much for the rules of religion, but when you're holding hands with Death your other hand reaches out for hope. It's not logical, but I find hope rarely is."

Blaise said, "You don't attend church, then."

"No." Hermione confirmed, "No, I don't."

Would she ever go to church? No. Would she stop Scorpius from going? Absolutely not. That was Blaise's decision, one he seemed to take seriously. Blaise stared at their mountain of bread, which leaned a bit to the left. He processed Hermione's words slowly, coming to the realization she knew more than she let on.

"For the first thirty years of my life, my faith was the only refuge I had from a world which never seemed to know where to place me. After Draco left, I begged God for a husband. I prayed for someone to be there for me the way everyone else in my life had that person. When no husband arrived, I renounced my faith; not knowing that prayer had already been answered in the form of The Scarlet Steam Engine."

"Those books seem to stay with you."

Blaise swallowed thickly and used the inside of his collar to wipe tears from his eyes.

"There's a line from that book. He wrote, 'A child's voice, however honest and true, is meaningless to those who've forgotten how to listen.' It was the first time in thirty years that anyone had put words to how I felt about my mother."

"Dean takes a lot of pride in his work."

"As he should."

Hermione sat in silence until Blaise walked around the counter and sat in the barstool beside her. He said,

"I blamed God for taking Draco away without giving me the love I was waiting for. Everyone around me was married, about to be married, or had been married. It is assumed that because I am good-looking and wealthy that I have my pick of the world, but I never had anything that felt right. My silence is rather off-putting to most people. Each man I shagged more than once always worked their way around to, 'I wish you were a bit fitter 'round the middle.'" Blaise scoffed, "I am a chef. Who trusts a chef with a flat stomach?"

Hermione giggled, and it seemed to soften the moment a bit. She asked,

"How did you meet Ginny?"

"By accident. Straight men rarely like me; they often see me and begin questioning themselves."

Hadn't Ron said exactly that?

"I believed it would be easier to make conversation with men if I learned football. To make them more comfortable around me, at least. I bought a box ticket for the Arsenal game, not realizing I'd purchased a ticket for the women's match instead of the men's. I ran into Ginny after the game; she said she would teach me the fundamentals. In gratitude, I made the team dinner after their next match. Then they never wanted me to leave."

Hermione grabbed another croqueta. Chewing gave her time to think. Blaise's attachment to Draco was a lifelong sort; not platonic, but deep in a way that would not conflict with the relationship Hermione hoped to have. When she finished the croqueta, she said,

"I do not want your relationship with Scorpius to change. However, I do want my relationship with him to grow."

"As do I."

"What do you think it looks like, then?" asked Hermione. "My relationship to him."

"I have given it thought since you phoned. I am responsible for my godson's schooling and, if you'll permit it, his experience in religion. Bastien is the fun uncle, and I believe once Scorpius learns to defy gravity he will make a very good athlete. Bastien will be a coach for him. Theo is normalcy. I find that Scorpius will need some of that in his life, a person who has an upperclass living but not the level of wealth that surrounds him constantly. Theo has a great wife, two good kids, the perfect traditional family life. Draco is meant to show his son what it means to be a Malfoy. He is still defining that for himself, but once he does, I believe he will have a much stronger connection to his son."

"What is left for me, then?" asked Hermione. "It doesn't sound like he is wanting for anything."

"That is for you to figure out on your own." Blaise said, "Scorpius defined my role for me, and if you give him the freedom to do so, he will define your role for you. He will show you what he needs over time."

"I don't want to take anything away from Astoria. I don't know what it means to be a second mother to a child who never knew his first."

"Your job as his mother is to help him see his father."

"Oh."

An interesting notion. Scorpius loved what he knew of his father, but there was a clear distance between them. Hermione could never fill the void Astoria left in their lives. She could bridge the space between them. Hermione carefully slid off the barstool.

"Thank you for saying that."

Blaise stood up and replied, "Thank you for asking. I am grateful for what you have done for this family, Hermione. We are all happier now that Draco is seeing the lightness of life again. I do wish you could have known the man he was once. The man I loved was full of laughter, and I am beginning to see that in him again."

"I would hug you, but—" Hermione half-raised her left arm and let it fall back to her side. "That was really sweet of you to say, so I need you to hug me."

Blaise obliged and said, "Don't tell Dean, but I am nervous about meeting his family tomorrow."

"My advice?" said Hermione. "His youngest sister, Zara, is the most important one to please. If she likes you, everyone else will follow."

"Thank you."

"I'm joining your family, and you're joining mine. Seems we ought to be a team."

Blaise laughed softly and replied, "It will be nice to have an ally amongst the chaos."

"Allies in chaos, then."

.oOo.

Hermione couldn't stop smiling the entire drive to Wiltshire. Life was so much easier without the weight of a broadcast on her shoulders. She phoned Harry and they chatted the full journey. Al had a great time on their day out. Harry and Ginny both appreciated that Draco had given Al a mask to wear, given that photographs of him were in nearly every media outlet in the country. They were still fretting over what to get Scorpius for his birthday.

By the time Hermione was punching her code into the keypad outside Malfoy Manor, she could have floated to the front door. She didn't have to keep her arm a secret anymore. She could wear all the nice clothes she'd stashed away for fear of judgment. As the manor came into view, she watched Draco dash out the front door and hurry down the steps. Hermione parked the jaguar and stepped out just as Draco touched the bottom stair. She closed the car door as the valet made to open the boot.

Draco scooped Hermione into a hug and spun around in a circle before placing her on the ground. She smiled, dizzy with happiness. Looking up at her boyfriend, Hermione felt grounded in the moment. The next several weeks would be nothing but figuring out what their family looked like. Every doubt Hermione had about making this a priority in her life had disappeared. Draco smiled when he said,

"Welcome home, Hermione."