Matching a Malfoy

by LittleSixx

As a prominent war reporter and news anchor with political ambition, Hermione Granger needs to make significant changes to her public persona. Her publicist signs her up for Malfoy Matchmaking, known equally for their success and discretion. At the same time, Narcissa Malfoy has finally acquired the biggest client of her career: her widowed son.

26. The Man He Once Was

Rainwater puddled in a pool at Hermione's feet.

She, Draco, and Scorpius had ridden back to Malfoy Manor in the golf cart. Scorpius clung to Hermione as visibility was minimal through the sudden downpour. They ended up drenched, standing drenched in the small alcove by the dining room where the head of staff offered each of them a towel. Scorpius accepted his, laid it out on the ground, grabbed one end, and rolled repeatedly until he had wrapped himself up in it like a tamale.

Hermione laughed and Draco rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. She wondered whether these tiny moments of fun were indicative of the child Draco had been once. The afternoon had been so tender, Hermione didn't notice the sudden noise coming from the picnic basket. Draco said,

"Your phone's vibrating."

"Oh."

Hermione fished it out to see Sworn Enemy (Oliver) on her screen. Oh, no. Hermione bit back an exhausted groan. She had been so excited to be with Draco as part of his family that she hadn't bothered to cancel her physical therapy appointment.

"I need to answer that."

"Go ahead." Draco picked Scorpius up off the ground and added, "I'll just go clean Scorpius and then … Perhaps a bath of our own?"

"Count on it."

Hermione answered Oliver's call just as Draco left the room. She said,

"Oliver, I am so sorry. With everything happening at work, I forgot to cancel my appointment."

"It's okay, Hermione. I understand." Oliver sighed heavily and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm in Wiltshire. I'll be staying here for the next couple months with Draco. We are giving this family thing a real go."

"Shall I cancel your appointments for the next eight weeks, then?"

"I don't want to fall behind. I hadn't thought about physical therapy, to be honest. I suppose I can go to London twice a week, the drive isn't impossible."

"Malfoy's obscenely rich, yeah?"

"He's wealthy, yes." Hermione conceded, "Incredibly wealthy."

"Right, how about I make a weekly house call and charge him a thousand quid for the trouble?"

"How much would you normally charge?"

Oliver replied, "I don't make house calls. But for a thousand pounds a week I'll pack up my entire bloody gym and drive it to Wiltshire if he wants. You're one of the clients who has been with me the longest, Hermione. Your shoulder will get worse if you don't care for it properly. We didn't go through all that shit at the beginning just so you could give it up for billionaire cock."

Hermione grimaced.

"House calls, then."

"Wednesdays?"

"What time?"

"I can do my morning clients and be to you by three. Three to five?"

"Three to five."

"Good. Can't make this Wednesday, so we'll begin next week. Until then, just do your basic shoulder exercises once per day."

Oliver ended the call and Hermione looked down at the floor. Her shoes had been tossed by the door. Her hair was plastered to her neck, the dress stuck to her bum, and her toes were a bit pruned. She'd been so caught up in the moment, enjoying the first real family time she had with Draco and his son … So caught up in what life could be that she had forgotten the bits of her life she couldn't live without. Hermione pressed the towel to her face and used it to muffle a scream of frustration. She took a deep breath in, closed her eyes, and began to wipe the rain from her face.

Balance had never been Hermione's forte. Focus, dedication, discipline … Those things made a good reporter. She realized, rather belatedly, those things may not be the best qualities in a mother. Nor a wife. Perhaps this attempt at having a family was doomed before it began. Hermione shook that thought from her head and trudged upstairs, looking forward to an afternoon, evening, and salaciously late night with Draco.

.oOo.

The bath never happened.

Draco was called away on business, something about a chemical spill at the plant. It sounded imperative, so Hermione didn't press him on it. Draco didn't show up for dinner, either. He trudged into the bedroom around two-thirty, woke up at five-thirty, and left Hermione alone for the morning.

The table in the dining room was meant to seat sixteen. When they had their party at the manor, nearly every seat had been occupied. However, without so much company to give the manor life, it was a bit like staring into the undisturbed depths of a diving pool. They sat at one end, with Draco at the head of the table. The breakfast was incredible. Hermione had a plateful of eggs. Nothing but eggs. They were seasoned perfectly, not at all chewy, the privileged sort of meal she only ever had on special occasions.

Scorpius couldn't stop staring at his father. His eyes were wide like he believed if he blinked too long his father might disappear entirely. Hermione thought it a bit odd, because Scorpius had always seemed so comfortable around his father. It was Draco who had been standoffish, unsure, skeptical. Draco's phone vibrated where he'd stuffed it on the chair beneath his thigh. He jumped a bit, pulled it out, and rushed toward the door a few minutes before breakfast was meant to end.

Dinner on Monday was even better. The chicken was perfectly cooked, neither chewy nor dense. The vegetables had been steamed and seasoned in a way Hermione wouldn't have known to ask for. Once again, Scorpius stared at Draco in his seat at the head of the table. Hermione tried to engage him in conversation, but the minute he answered, his head snapped right back toward his father. Draco took notice, but not enough to mention it. Scorpius hugged his father after dinner and asked,

"Will you walk me to bed?"

And he did. Draco seemed rather surprised by the request, but grateful. The opportunity to end the night with his son was one Draco seemed eager to take. He did not, however, seem as committed to ending the night in bed with Hermione. Draco was called away by business again, and Hermione fell asleep alone.

She woke up alone.

Hermione had given up more than two months of her career for this opportunity to build a family. The I love yous weren't enough. Logistically, this relationship would be far more taxing on her than Draco, so what did it mean that she was right in front of him and he wasn't willing to take a pause? Sunday had been so nice at the beginning that she tried to see past what must have been an unusually busy Monday.

Breakfast on Tuesday was so good that Hermione thought she may never leave Malfoy Manor. Draco seemed a bit scatterbrained, constantly looking at his phone and not paying attention to the meal. He picked up a knife and tried to eat potatoes with it, still staring at his phone. Hermione nudged him under the table with her foot and nodded toward the cutlery in his hand. Draco chuckled and shook his head. He put the knife down, picked up the fork, then went right back to business. Scorpius frowned and went back to eating the contents of his own plate, not bothering to look at his father.

Hermione pulled out her own phone and shot off texts to her friends.

To Gin: Manor Monday not what I expected.

To Padma: The US is requiring social media to be included on visa applications. Will UK follow?

To Parvati: Miss you, Ti. Hope you're well. [Heart Emoji]

To Cedric: US requiring social media to be included on visa apps. Story?

Golden Trio Group Chat: Morning! [Lightning Bolt Emoji] Stormy afternoon predicted.

From Cedric: Do the story when you get back.

From Cedric: I'm being overwhelmed by Sudan, Mali, and Cambodia. Seriously out of my depth here.

To Cedric: Can't comment on Sudan and Cambodia. I don't know enough. On the Mali attack, other outlets will cover refugees. Focus on IDPs in Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger. The borders are very malleable and it makes civilian travel difficult. Ernie should have the UNHCR report. Tell him to send it to me.

From Cedric: You're on vacation, stop looking at the news.

To Ernie: Can you send me the UNHCR report on Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger?

From Ernie: Ced said you'd ask and told me to tell you no.

Another message came in from Cedric; it was a photograph of him, Ernie, their entire production team, Roger Davies, and Marietta. Each of them wore a white hat with the BBC logo reading: British Bitch Corporation. Hermione laughed and gave it a heart. She looked up toward Draco, prepared to show him the photo, only to find his chair empty. Hermione looked at Scorpius poking at the eggs on his plate with a fork. He said,

"I hope he comes back, but he never does."

Draco was late to dinner on Tuesday. They were meant to eat at seven, but Draco didn't arrive for forty-five minutes. When he did, Scorpius was made to move from the chair at Draco's right to make room for whichever business partner had kept Draco so late. Scorpius hopped out of his chair and rushed through the dining room doorway. Hermione stood up from her chair and Draco made to introduce his guest, but backed off when Hermione glared at him. She snapped,

"The dinner table is not your business meeting."

The thudding of Scorpius's feet stomping up the stairs could be heard two rooms away. Hermione left Draco without another word. There were too many emotions weighing on her heart. Anger at being ignored by her boyfriend for two days. Loneliness, as no one except Cedric had bothered to text her back. Then the despair of the heart-wrenching sobs Hermione heard half a hallway away from Scorpius's bedroom. She walked inside to find Draco's son crying into his pillows, his whole body shaking with the effort. Hermione snuggled in next to him and pulled Scorpius into a tight hug. He curled into her and said,

"M-my dad's h-here but it feels like he's not."

"I know, baby blond." Hermione squeezed him a bit tighter and repeated, "I know. He's here, but I miss him, too."

Scorpius sniffled and asked, "Why don't you want to be my mum?"

"I do," Hermione insisted, "I do want to be your mum. I love you so much, but being your mum isn't just about you. It's about loving your dad, and I don't know how to love someone who isn't here. When I go back to London, what will we do? If he can't love me here, then how can he love me when we're so far apart?"

Scorpius wailed, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, baby blond." Hermione insisted, "It is never your fault."

Scorpius wiped snot away with the back of his hand then wiped it on the blanket beneath him. Hermione gently folded it in half, snot-sides together, as Scorpius revealed,

"My dad doesn't talk to me much. Then you made him happy and he talked to me so much. He answered all my questions. Even the sad ones about my first mum. Now it's work. Just like before. Just like always. It's always work. Work phone. Work meeting." He pounded a pillow with his fist. "Work work work! I hate work!"

Hermione conceded, "I'm starting to hate it, too."

Scorpius's face was bright red, his cheeks splotchy, and the lamplight illuminated tear tracks on his face. It broke Hermione's heart to see him like that.

"For tonight, I'll sleep with you here. Then you're not alone and I'm not alone."

"But then my dad's alone." Scorpius looked up at the ceiling and said, "When I see Al at his house, his family's together. His mum and his dad and his brother together. I want to be like that. I want to be together."

"Then you and me will sleep in your dad's room so none of us are alone."

Scorpius wiped his eyes and grumbled, "Okay."

Hermione watched as Scorpius dressed in his pyjamas: a bright red Ferrari onesie. He pulled the hood over his head, so low it covered his eyes. Scorpius grumbled,

"We can go."

They read a book together in bed. Scorpius fell asleep against Hermione's chest, and she nestled backward into the pillows with one arm around him. Draco came to bed around two o'clock in the morning. He woke Hermione up with a gentle nudge to her right shoulder. She opened her eyes the slightest bit and watched him slip beneath the duvet. Draco whispered,

"Sorry for missing you, golden girl."

"Don't apologize to me," she whispered back, "apologize to your son. He misses you."

"Seeing you with my son right now, like this, shows me what I've been missing, and I am sorry for that."

Hermione reached over to give Draco's hand a quick squeeze before saying, "We can talk about it in the morning."

Except Draco wasn't there in the morning. Hermione was left, once again, to bear the weight of Scorpius's disappointment. He was off to a tutor by nine o'clock and Hermione found herself wandering the halls. She passed by Draco's office more than once, but the door was always closed. Scorpius was away, Draco was drowning in work, so there was only one Malfoy available at lunch on Wednesday.

Hermione couldn't say why she meandered into Narcissa's study. For her part, Narcissa seemed unsurprised; her office was just as lonely. Then again, perhaps her life was so lonely. These weeks at the manor were always meant to be temporary for Hermione, but Narcissa made her home here with a dead husband, an estranged lover, and an absent son. She had pulled her hair back and wore a thin, high-necked green sweater. Her necklace was antique, designed in a grapevine motif with leaves, vines and grapes all set in silver. It reminded Hermione of Draco and the importance he placed on time and uniqueness when it came to accoutrements. Narcissa nodded to the chair in front of her desk and said,

"At your leisure, Ms. Granger."

Hermione sat and said nothing. There were so many feelings, and no words for Hermione to use. She couldn't ask, Is your son always like this? Was he so distant with Astoria? Or is he pushing me away because he doesn't love me the way he believed he did? She sat there, staring at the wall behind Narcissa, hoping to find a reason to stay at Malfoy Manor. Instead of articulating any of that, she finally said,

"Have you known Mr. Queensbury long?"

"Yes." Narcissa looked up from her notes to confirm, "We met when Draco was seven. Bastien was a student at Draco's primary school, and they became friends. Not being familiar with the Queensbury family, we quickly realized the reason Bastien was such a normal, well-adjusted child was his parents: working-class with enough savings to give Bastien a single year at a good school. Lucius and I took quite quickly to Lance because he's interesting. Society men can be such dullards, pompous imbeciles with money and wives who cheat on them time and time again."

"Your son doesn't fit that description."

"My son slept his way through every gay club from here to Manchester. Polite society has never been his priority."

"Has Scorpius ever been his priority?" asked Hermione.

There was a pause before Narcissa eventually said, "In some ways. Only recently has Draco discovered Scorpius needs to be prioritized not only with words, but with time."

"What of me?" Hermione said, "This is the third day, now, where he hardly speaks to me. The moment his office door closes, it's as though he is in a different dimension. Completely unreachable. Was he like this with his wife?"

"Astoria was stubborn, Ms. Granger." Narcissa shook her head in frustration. "She was persistent. We all agree she would have been a good mother to her son. Scorpius will always feel the weight of losing not only his mother, but his grandparents, and the first several years of life with his father. That boy fractured a family and, when he is older, he will need to accept that. He is fortunate to have Astoria's kind-hearted nature, which will help him not only to forgive others, but to forgive himself for these things over which he had no control."

Hermione admitted, "I haven't a clue what I'm doing. I never thought I would get to be a mother, and every time I take a step forward with Scorpius, it seems something between myself and Draco goes wrong."

"My son is incapable of holding onto a relationship with someone remarkable?" Narcissa rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Shocking. Blaise Zabini is an exceptional man and Draco let that romance fade away. My son's wife was a perfectly fine woman. Lucius and I never wished for him to find someone fine, we wanted someone exceptional. This family is exceptional and it needs to be carried on strong shoulders." Narcissa nodded to Hermione's left and said, "You have strong shoulders, proven quite well in the case of the one."

"Then it appears Astoria's parents felt as you did about their marriage."

"Graham and Jami made their opinions regarding my son's sexuality perfectly clear. Astoria's best quality was her independent mind, unsullied by the values of her insipid parents."

"As though you were always so independently minded on the matter?"

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, mortified the thought had escaped. Narcissa laughed, as though she found it rather humorous someone would dare to question her. Hermione didn't reply. Narcissa Malfoy was dangerous, but she had dealt with many men over the years who had the terrifying combination of limited brain cells and an unlimited army at their disposal. Narcissa Malfoy didn't need an army to do what she said needed doing.

"I accepted and supported my son, though his proclivities remained outside my understanding until … Penelope?" Narcissa's eyes shot toward the door as she confirmed, "Miss Clearwater." She stood up from her desk, surprise evident on her face. "You arrived early."

"There is no need to stand, Cissa."

Hermione turned around in the chair to see Penelope in the doorway. She held a leather-bound folio in the crook of one elbow, dressed in a bright blue pencil skirt and a white knit top. A thin gold chain was belted around her waist, she looked effortlessly perfect, and she seemed normal. Nothing about Penelope was different, except the light behind her eyes and the slight pink tint to her cheeks. Hermione stood to leave, but was quickly admonished.

"Sit, Hermione. I've been hidden away long enough, Narcissa can give me one moment to be seen."

Hermione obliged, wondering whether this moment was something she, herself, wished to see. The last time she saw the two of them in this room, she would have rather been anywhere else. There was no protocol for my boyfriend's mum is finger fucking my publicist and didn't fully close the door.

"It is good to see you, Miss Clearwater."

"You," replied Penelope, "are losing your touch. What you did was far too obvious. The problem in setting me up with Cedric Diggory is that we are both in love with other people. We've been talking, trying to determine whether his three repeated dumpings by Parvati Patil are more awful than the one humiliating moment in which you broke up with me."

"I am sorry for that."

Hermione pressed her fingers to her forehead and tried to keep a straight face. She had known Penelope well over twelve years. She was Penelope's first client; Penelope got Hermione her first job at BBC. Yet, Hermione knew nothing about this part of Penelope's life. Pain was evident in Narcissa's voice when she said,

"I wanted a clean break for us both, but in trying to keep my own heart together I damaged yours. You deserved so much more than what I gave you."

"Yes," Penelope agreed, "I did."

Narcissa's eyes lit up as she said, "Let me take you out in London one last time. Lance and I are attending a gala in three weeks. Let me take you to dinner and end this the way you deserved."

Penelope's blush deepened as she admitted, "Not everything about the breakup was bad, Narcissa. The first bit was quite good."

Narcissa laughed. A genuine, wholehearted laugh accompanied by a smile so wide that Hermione could hardly blame Penelope for staying in the relationship as long as she had. Not when she could make someone so powerful, so formidable smile like that. Narcissa looked like a different person, much more like the woman Hermione imagined Lucius Malfoy fell for. Much more like the man Draco must have been before he was hollowed out by grief.

"I am sorry." Narcissa's smile fell immediately, and she appeared to be holding back tears. "Losing you was like losing my husband all over again. I believed it would be prudent to sever the connection quickly, without care for how it made either of us feel."

"It was careless," replied Penelope, "but I understand. You used me to avoid feeling grief over your husband. I should not have allowed you to do that, but I love you, so I did. I would do it again, which is why you were right to end this."

"I wish so strongly that being right and being happy were the same thing."

"It would be, if we were men."

"Because a man's happiness is a rather simple-minded thing." Narcissa added, "A woman's happiness requires a complicated mind to still itself. You have calmed me for years, Penelope, when my husband could not."

Penelope smiled and said, "Speaking of Lucius, I brought you a breakup gift."

A breakup gift? Hermione felt her eyebrows knit together. It was evident this relationship was one she would never understand. Penelope walked through the room to stand at the side of the desk. She offered the folio to Narcissa, whose fingers brushed against the back of Penelope's hand and lingered. Hermione looked away, the moment too intimate to watch.

"He wrote to me often," said Penelope. "As I wrote to him. I sent him photographs of us so he could feel like part of your life. When he knew he was dying, he gave me the letters he kept. I'd kept his letters as well, and this is the best way I have to show you how we have always seen you. We worked to bring this together, every letter we sent back and forth, ordered chronologically."

Narcissa ran the tips of her fingers gently down the front of the folio.

"This is a piece of my husband I did not have before." Narcissa placed her hand on Penelope's shoulder and said, "It means more to me than I can say."

"You don't need to say anything. There is one tiny bit of your heart reserved for me, and that is the greatest gift I could receive. I don't need you to end things properly, I am ready to move on now. But I think you might need to end things differently."

"Yes," Narcissa confirmed, "if you will permit me."

Penelope laughed and said, "You know I have difficulty saying no to you."

"You have been far better to me than I was to you—"

"That's not true—"

"Yes, it is. All these years of your life you've given to me, and I have not appreciated them as I should. You are my strong, beautiful, devious woman of whom I am very proud. Then you helped bring Hermione Granger," Narcissa nodded toward Hermione, "to my son. I could not have done that without you."

"Hermione's happiness is important to me, as your son's is to you. It made sense. I do need to leave to return to London before the storms set in."

Narcissa placed her hand on Penelope's cheek and ran the pad of her thumb across Penelope's bottom lip. Narcissa shook her head and offered a wan smile as she wondered,

"What will I do without you?"

"You're a matchmaker, I believe you will find someone else." Penelope leaned forward to steal a quick kiss before stepping back to say, "Nobody as pretty as me, though."

Narcissa offered, "I would never dream of it."

Penelope squeezed her hand and said, "Text me where to meet you when you are in town. If you have any questions about the letters, I am happy to answer. Walk with me, Hermione?"

It took Hermione a moment to realize her presence had been acknowledged. She stood to follow Penelope out of the room. Narcissa seemed keen to immerse herself in those letters. Her husband had returned to her in a way, leaving Hermione more alone than when she entered the office not ten minutes prior.

"I assume you have questions," Penelope said when they reached the top of the stairs.

Hermione shook her head and admitted, "You've been responsible for me for twelve years, I trust you. You've kept so much secret that I don't know how to feel."

Penelope took the first step down and asked, "What do you wish to know?"

"When you realized you were gay, perhaps?" Hermione stepped down and said, "Seems like something you would mention to your friend."

"I never mentioned it because I'm not a lesbian. My relationship with Narcissa is unconventional."

"How?"

"Narcissa and Lucius loved each other, and they each loved me."

Hermione had a dozen questions bouncing around her head as they made their way downstairs. The one that actually passed her lips sounded far more judgmental than it should have been.

"How could you love someone like Lucius Malfoy?"

"How could I love an incredibly powerful, gorgeous man?" asked Penelope. "How could I love someone who held me like the world was worth nothing without me in it? Lucius taught me how to acknowledge my strengths, my skills, and use them with precision. Narcissa was a guide for me in life, but Lucius was a teacher of self. We had much in common, after all, we were deeply in love with the same woman."

"He was already in prison when you met him."

"Yes." Penelope frowned and admitted, "He had a far stronger countenance than people gave him credit for, but ten years away from Narcissa was too much strain on his heart. That's how he died, you know. Heart attack at fifty-five. He was in so much pain that we all knew he had a short time left, but …" Penelope stopped walking and glanced down at the ground. "Losing him hurt me, and I can only imagine how much it hurt Narcissa. I was part of their lives for six years, but they had been together more than thirty."

"You really cared for them."

"They opened so many doors for me. My business would be doing well if they hadn't, but it would be nowhere near as successful as it is now." Penelope conceded, "Then again, the whole of Downing Street believed Narcissa was having an affair with me."

"It wasn't an affair, then?" asked Hermione. "You slept with her husband, too? I have difficulty understanding how you managed to fall in love with my boyfriend's abusive father."

Penelope snapped, "It wasn't as if Lucius and Narcissa put that in the welcome packet, Hermione! Lucius asked me to be the bridge for them, to love her on all the days he couldn't. So I was, and I have."

Hermione wondered, "How do you fall into something like this?"

"We met at a press event at Downing Street while I was a speechwriter. I cannot remember why Narcissa was there, but we were introduced. She invited me to lunch with some of her society friends, approved of me with them, and she kissed me goodbye. It was an innocent, innocent …" Penelope seemed lost in that memory. "Innocent thing, her lips on my cheek, but she lingered. Her hand was on my waist, and there was a connection unlike anything I'd ever felt. When she phoned me for lunch alone, I went, then we made out in her car."

Like mother, like son.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm up at that thought. There was something primal about that moment in the back of the BMW which was absent when they actually managed to have sex. Draco had been very tender, appreciative, non judgmental … But it wasn't the same, almost as if he saw how much of Hermione's body had been damaged and was afraid to do what he had done before.

"I thought it a bit ridiculous; she was a forty-seven-year-old woman snogging me like a teenager in her Aston Martin with the roof down. She invited me to the manor a week later to meet her husband, and everything fell into place rather quickly. This has been my second home."

"I don't believe you needed her." Hermione insisted, "You are incredible of your own accord, and I don't believe you needed them to get where you are. After everything you've done for me, did you really believe I would think differently of you for this?"

"How could you not? The man everyone else knew Lucius to be and the man I knew him to be were very different."

"I'm sure, but the Penelope I knew you to be is the woman you are today." Hermione huffed, "I don't understand why you felt the need to keep this from me. If you had come to me and said, 'I'm a lover for an incredible older woman and I occasionally ride her husband like a bicycle,' I would have been happy for you. Might've sent you a fruit basket. I saw you just now and you don't seem ashamed of her, so the only option left is that you were ashamed to tell me."

"No—"

"And everyone seems to be distancing themselves since I've been here. I haven't heard from any of my friends, no one's returning my texts, I didn't so much as know you would be coming today. Being at Malfoy Manor has taken me away from everyone, and Draco's locked himself in his office. I feel like I gave up everything to be here and Draco can hardly be bothered to appreciate my presence."

"I see this irritation isn't truly about me." Penelope gently placed her hand on Hermione's left arm and said, "My relationship with Narcissa was a partnership with Lucius. We worked hand-in-hand to ensure she was loved, cared for, and worshiped as she should be. In turn, I was loved and cared for by two incredible people." She paused before adding, "Then Lucius was shagging two beautiful women so he was quite happy with his end of the bargain."

"So I imagine."

"Malfoy relationships are partnerships. If you are reaching out a hand and Draco doesn't take hold, Hermione …" Penelope shook her head. "He isn't worth you. I see how incredible you are, and I see that Draco continues to limit himself unnecessarily. Don't let him pull you into that trap, too."

Penelope gave Hermione's arm the gentlest squeeze, then made for the front door. Hermione watched her leave then slowly made her way up the stairs, gripping the handrail tight. The hallways seemed further and wider, inescapable. She wished Scorpius was there to walk alongside her, someone who seemed to shrink the world to a more manageable size.

Hermione paused outside of Draco's office. She stared at the wooden door and heard the muffled tones of a disagreement happening inside. Hermione glanced down at the door handle and considered walking in. At least then Draco would have to say something. Hermione turned away and continued her journey down the hall toward the library. She would see Draco at dinner and discuss it then.

Except that would require Draco to show up to dinner, which he didn't. Not until it was time for Scorpius to head to bed. Draco knelt to hug his son as he was leaving, but Scorpius stepped backward and shook his head. He turned around and took Hermione's good hand in his. As they left, Draco made one more attempt to hug Scorpius who clung to Hermione. He snapped at his father,

"I don't want to talk to you."

Hermione didn't bother looking at Draco as she left, disappointed to see how truthful everyone had been in their assessments of the first several years of Scorpius's life. Hermione assumed when Padma said Draco chained himself to his desk, it was hyperbole. Instead, Hermione found herself tucking Scorpius into bed for the second night in a row.

Later that evening, Hermione and Draco prepared for bed separately. They didn't speak, merely passed by and looked away. Hermione wanted to talk with him, but didn't have the words to articulate the loneliness of the past few days. She felt more like Scorpius's mum, only to find that Draco seemed to be less her boyfriend. For his part, Draco appeared rather lost, surprised to have found himself so far adrift from the people he claimed to love.

That night, as they laid in bed with the lights off, Hermione began to twist the ends of Draco's hair between her fingers. As though it was only safe to ask in the dark, Draco whispered,

"I've been avoiding my son for years, haven't I?"

"I think 'avoiding' is the wrong word." Hermione insisted, "You did what you could. You made sure he was loved when you couldn't give that to him. Now, your heart is in a place where you can love your son the way he deserves. He knows you can do it, and you are still choosing not to."

"I never realized Scorpius missed me at meals. I've never been there, so I never thought he would miss me."

"Did you think I would miss you?"

There was a long, awful pause before Draco confirmed what Hermione had suspected.

"I never thought about it."

Hermione shifted away from him on the bed and huffed, "I can bring you closer to your family, Draco, but I cannot make you part of it. You certainly do not seem to be concerned with making me part of it."

"The entire reason you are here is to be part of this—"

"You brought business to the dinner table with your son." Hermione glared up at the ceiling through the darkness. "We've hardly had any time together since Sunday. I like waking up with you, and these moments ending the day … This is what I want with you, but it doesn't end here. You weren't the one holding your son as he cried himself to sleep last night, so don't tell me you make any effort to pay attention."

Draco didn't say anything for a long while. Hermione listened to his uneven breathing, wondering what was going through his head. Perhaps she'd been too harsh with him. It had only been three workdays, maybe Draco would snap out of—

"Was he …" Draco's voice was soft and pained when he asked, "Was he doing that before you came into our lives?"

"I don't know."

"If he was, then there was no one to hold him, was there?"

"No."

Hermione felt Draco turn onto his side, though she couldn't quite make out his face through the darkness.

"Mr. Queensbury told me I've been a shit father. I didn't see it until today, until my son told me to my face that he didn't want to talk to me. Bas's dad said the only way to raise a good man is to set that example for your son. I don't know whether I can do that, Hermione. I had it all planned out, Tori and me, how we would parent our son. Sons, as we had hoped for two children together."

Hermione felt a bit guilty she would never give him that opportunity. He was right that Scorpius would be the perfect older brother. In fact, nearly everything about their lives was perfectly set for a second child. Hermione didn't want to lose a year of her career, Draco didn't want to lose another woman he loved, and yet ...

"We had all the proper discussions about religion, discipline, education, et cetera. Then Astoria died and my whole life fell apart. I let our plans for him disappear, let Blaise handle all the difficult bits. I did exactly what my father did, forgoing my son to the point where he considers another man his father."

"What did Scorpius ask me on Sunday?"

"Hmm?" Draco asked, half-lost in thought.

"Do you love my dad? I don't believe he was thinking about Blaise Zabini. That little boy looks at you and sees himself, Draco, quite literally. He wishes to see you happy," she paused before adding, "as do I."

"The day my father died—" Draco's breath stuttered in his chest. He took a deep breath and repeated, "The day my father died, he knew it was going to happen. I dunno how, but he knew, and the last thing he ever said to me was, 'I am proud you have done so well.'" Draco sniffled and squeezed Hermione's hand. "It took thirty-two years to make him proud of me. I don't even think he loved me then, but at least he was proud."

"It doesn't matter what he thought of you. Your son loves you more than anyone, because he is you. I see so much of you in him. I see a child who loves to make other people smile. A little boy who loves to run, who cares about people with his whole heart because he doesn't know any other way to live. All of that comes from you, Draco. Your father's opinion is rubbish. Your son's opinion is the one that matters most."

Draco brought Hermione's hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to her palm. Hermione closed her eyes and held her breath, lingering in the moment. Draco returned her hand to his chest, over his heart.

"You see things so clearly, golden girl. Thank you."

"You're always so good with words, talking me around when I am on the ledge."

"It is the least I can do for the woman I love. For the woman who has brought me back to my son, to my family." Draco paused before adding, "You've brought me closer to the man I once was, Hermione."

"Then the only thing I ask is that you make time for your son. He won't be my son until he feels safe in being yours."

"I'm not sure how to go about repairing the damage the past six years have done, but I will try."

"These past few days …" Hermione's voice was weak even to her own ears. "I haven't been this lonely in twenty years, Draco. I won't stay here nine more weeks if I am to be alone. I really thought we had something on Sunday, but it's all gone a bit sour now."

"Don't say that. Sunday meant everything to me."

"If it did, you would have done everything in your power to ensure Monday felt the same. And Tuesday and today, but you didn't. I don't know whether you're scared or this is simply the life you want us to live."

Draco flopped onto his back and let out a heavy breath. He admitted,

"I think we both know the answer."

.oOo.

Thursday was different. Draco made it to breakfast and invited Hermione to a lunch of chef-prepared sandwiches in his study. Scorpius was still being tutored in French, and Draco cancelled a virtual meeting to give them time together. Hermione thought it quite sweet of him, as they tried not to make a mess of his office conference table. They were close enough to knock elbows, truly together for the first time in four days. Draco kept making small jokes, talking about his meetings, asking whether Hermione had spoken to her friends …

No, of course. They'd all been busy. Ginny had texted a photo of a wrapped gift with the caption, "Ready for next weekend." Draco hadn't elaborated much on the plans for Scorpius's birthday. Halfway through lunch Hermione asked,

"Will you talk to me about money?"

Draco shrugged and asked, "What would you like to know?"

"I'm not certain what to ask." Hermione smoothed out her dress and admitted, "I've never been around so much wealth. Socially, at least. From what I've experienced here, you don't live like most billionaires I've interviewed."

"War criminal isn't on the resume."

"Opulence isn't on the resume. Yachts and planes and rocket ships are not in the Malfoy portfolio."

"Yes, well, you've identified the difference between new money and my money." Draco wiped some sauce from the corner of his mouth. "I suppose it begins with how you conceptualize wealth. As Malfoys, familial wealth is a core part of our identity. I would never invest in rockets or yachts because those are short-term investments. As Malfoys, we don't think about, 'What am I going to leave for my son?' It's, 'Will this investment pay dividends for my great-great grandson?'"

"I see. Scorpius's great-grandson won't be interested in a hundred-year-old yacht."

"Exactly. The billionaires you know of are short-sighted amateurs with money. Wealth, to us, has always been about stewardship. This land has been in my family for nine hundred years, and the bones of this house are six centuries old. As a Malfoy, it is my responsibility to ensure the wealth continues down the line because we are indispensable."

Hermione frowned and asked, "How are you indispensable?"

"How are we not indispensable? I told you however long ago, we have two thousand acres. We only use a quarter of it personally. The Eastern quarter is the manor, our personal gardens, the servants' quarters, and our crypt. The northern quarter is the public gardens. The southern quarter is a nature preserve where we permit the cultivation of endangered plant species. We've got loads of wildlife biologists who do doctoral theses, lectures, and studies on that portion of the property."

"The western quarter?"

"Prior to my father's prison term, that was farmland we tolerated. My mother crafted a partnership with Wiltshire College so they tend to the farmland as part of their agriculture program, then we helped them build a restaurant to help with their hospitality program. Combining the two, it's quite literally farm to table food. It's incredible, but my involvement is limited. I can do many things, but I was not raised to farm."

Hermione teased, "God forbid you perform physical labour. Might muck up your fifteen hundred pound suit."

Draco was quiet for awhile after that, occasionally popping a chip into his mouth. Hermione sensed she had struck a nerve, but was unsure why that would set him off. Draco was clearly not meant to tend to land in a traditional sense. She tried to picture him in her mind, milking a cow or shoveling hay. Hermione couldn't conjure the image. After several minutes without conversation, curiosity got the better of her.

"Why did that offend you?"

"It didn't offend me." Draco sighed and admitted, "It reminded me of what I never got to be. There are innumerable perks that come with being part of the Malfoy line, but you must manage the estate. If I had wished to be anything else, it was never an option. It would have been, because my father lived until I was thirty-two. That's a long while to develop a career separate from my duty here, to my family. But my father got himself sentenced to prison and that meant my mother took over until I was properly educated, at which point I ran the business. I run the estate. I am the Malfoy name."

"What would you have done?" asked Hermione.

"Hmm?"

"If your father hadn't been in prison and you could have made a career of something, what would you have done?"

Draco shook his head and said, "You'll laugh if I tell you."

"I promise I won't."

In one rush of breath, Draco revealed, "I intended to get a PhD in Materials Science."

Hermione couldn't help but ask, "You mean to tell me you're into academics?"

"What sort of question is that?" spat Draco. "Am I into academics?"

"I know you to be a deep thinker." Hermione admitted, "I suppose I was a bit shocked by everything I learned about you, I hadn't thought to ask if you also excelled academically."

"My top marks at university got buried beneath my father's scandal and the incessant reporting about whom I was shagging at the time. So yes, Hermione, I'm intelligent. Somehow that question was even worse than if you'd laughed at me."

"I didn't mean to insult you."

"Yet, you did."

"I only—"

"I think it best, Hermione, that you find a different topic of conversation." Draco glared at her and asked, "The entire time we've been together, have you thought me an idiot?"

"No."

"Merely subpar academically, then?"

"Draco—"

"My life is entirely, one hundred percent about continuing the line." He pointed to a framed diploma on the wall behind them. "I received my Global Executive MBA from LSE because I was running an international business at twenty-two, entirely on my own. I bought a concrete manufacturer to consolidate the supply chain and created an entirely new method for sustainable cement production. D'you know why I was able to do that?"

"No."

Draco pointed to a second, more ornately framed diploma.

"Because I have a bachelor's degree in materials science from Oxford. Chemistry, physics, and engineering are all things I really enjoy learning about. Every Malfoy before me was interested in maintaining wealth, but I actually enjoy building things. Sustainability is a branding opportunity for the family name, of course, but I adopted it because I believe in it. Earth itself is a finite supply chain, and it is incumbent upon us to find new ways to use the materials we have been given. To answer your question, Hermione, your boyfriend is apparently much smarter than you believed him to be."

Hermione's heart sank a bit.

"That's not what I said."

"That is what you said."

"I never said you were stupid!" Hermione insisted, "All I meant to say was that you seemed like such a deep thinker about other things, I never recognized you have insight into academics as well. You've never shown any interest in school, never mentioned it to me. You go on and on about my degrees as if they are so impressive, but never brought up any of your own. I was thrown off by the thought of Dr. Draco Malfoy, PhD." Hermione nudged his ankle with her foot and said, "It's rather sexy."

Draco's cheeks turned a bit pink as he glanced toward the window.

"Now you're just trying to soothe the wound."

"Not at all. What would you focus on, then? In your studies?"

"The use of enzymes to break down plastic waste."

Hermione blinked.

"Sorry, what?"

Draco shook his head and said, "Do you truly wish for me to explain it to you? I will, if you care to listen, but I don't wish to bore you."

Hermione grinned and said, "Explain it to me. I want to understand what you care about."

"I hoped to study the potential to create new plastic from discarded plastic. There's loads of research on enzymes increasing the decomposition process. So much of that involves manipulating the DNA of existing enzymes which is quite labour intensive. Instead, I hoped to create a subsidiary of Malfoy Holdings devoted to degenerating then regenerating the plastic."

"You lost me."

Draco glanced up toward the ceiling and said, "The problem with plastic is that it takes millennia to decompose."

"That much I know."

"We've already got the plastic, and the demand only grows. If you take used plastic, shred it, freeze it, then compact it … Theoretically, is far less dense. The fibres would be further apart, so the enzymes have a larger, thinner area to attack. The enzymes then break the plastic down into ethylene glycol and terephthalic acid, used as the base for plastic industrial products and plastic water bottles respectively. We would use the chemical components of existing plastic to fill the demand for new plastic. It's the same thing I do with cement production, taking waste products and reintegrating them into the supply chain."

"That," Hermione said, "is fascinating."

Draco raised his eyebrows and asked, "Really?"

"Your worldview is far more clear to me now. Taking the wealth and making it sustainable is what your family has taught you. Naturally, you look at the world and want to make it sustainable for your son. And your great-great-grandson. The process you just described to me, does it have a byproduct? I know you said you use the byproduct of steel recycling for cement, so I assume—"

"Sodium sulphate, used in glass and detergent. Everything in nature is so cyclical, we only have to identify how to reintegrate it." The light was shining in Draco's eyes as he grinned. "It's fucking awesome. While the other amateur billionaires are spending their money killing the planet with rocket-fueled vanity projects, I get to work on things that make my family necessary."

Hermione shifted to lean forward, kiss him, then apologise.

"I never meant to imply you weren't intelligent."

"I know." Draco placed his hands on Hermione's back and tugged her closer. "It's a raw subject for me, and I should not have been snippy with you. I really wanted to study more, learn more."

"Perhaps you should." Hermione pushed Draco's hair out of his face and said, "Keep talking to me about sodium sulphate. It's very sexy."

"Tough sell, as it's also used for laxatives."

Hermione laughed so hard, she fell back into her chair and dissolved into a fit of giggles. This, these moments were why she left London. Draco leaned back in his own chair and admitted,

"Thank you for asking questions. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed learning."

Hermione gathered herself enough to say, "A part-time PhD is only six or seven years. Why not pursue it now?"

"There's no time with the businesses, and my son—"

"You're a billionaire, hire someone to run the business operations. We are caring for your son together, now, and he would love to see how much you enjoy things. Where would you go?"

"Royal College of Arts in London. Either there or Oxford, but RCA has programmes specific to regeneration. I suppose it would give me more time in London, to be closer to Scorpius when he is at school."

"And me." Hermione hated that she needed to remind him, "You would be closer to me."

"We could get a house together." Draco rolled his eyes and said, "Sotheby's is up my arse all the time about selling Malfoy properties. They'll be excited to sell me one of theirs."

Hermione asked, "You don't own a house in London?"

"Why would I? Blaise lives in Holland Park, Bastien lives in Hampstead, and Theo lives in Wimbledon. I always have a place to stay."

Hermione repeated, "You own a dozen buildings in London, but you don't own a home."

"Correct."

"You take issue with my flat?"

"Yes." Draco confirmed, "It's a flat. A penthouse, but still a flat. Everything I just told you, Hermione, it's about land. You do not own the lifts, the garage, anything outside of your tiny domain is not yours. If I am to get my own home in London, it will be a house of my own."

There was a brief pause when Draco didn't realize how dismissive that was. God, it was the same as it had been the past few days. Hermione huffed,

"It's always something, isn't it? My life will never be good enough to fit within yours."

"That's not what I said. I said I would expand my life to make room for you."

"Oh," Hermione chuckled darkly, "just as you've done these past four days? Is that making room for me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and said, "Look, Hermione, I'm trying—"

She laughed and stood up from the chair.

"If this is you trying, then I must not be worth much to you at all."

"We are here discussing a future together as a family, and you don't think you're worth anything to me?"

"Sod the future, Draco, I'm here!" Her voice cracked when she repeated, "I'm here! I am standing in front of you, sitting next to you, sleeping at your side! You continue to choose everything over me for days. What is it about me that is suddenly not worth your time?"

"I never said you weren't worthy of my time!"

"You don't need to say it; this is self-evident."

"I wasn't the one who suggested this mini sabbatical! You forced ten weeks on me!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open a bit. Forced. He couldn't really think that, could he? But it made sense. Draco wasn't prepared for this. Not only Hermione's presence, he was unprepared to have a proper family. He'd never had a wife and a son at the same time. Perhaps he needed time. Perhaps he needed something else …

Perhaps he needed someone else.

Hermione wiped tears from her eyes with her thumb and said, "I see now. When does Scorpius finish with his tutor?"

Draco frowned and asked, "Why does that matter?"

"Because I want to say goodbye before I leave. His birthday present is wrapped, and it is at the bottom of the second closet in your bedroom. You may give it to him, say it's from you, and we can make a clean break."

Draco's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he tried to parse what Hermione said. He asked,

"Leaving for where?"

"Battersea, Draco. I am leaving for my flat. I am packing my bags, driving to London, and leaving this desolate, troglodytic house you call a home!"

"Did you say troglodytic?"

Hermione huffed, "That is hardly the point—"

"Sorry," Draco stood from this chair, "a clean break? Are you breaking up with me?"

"Honestly, Draco, I don't know how to break up with someone who manages to be inside the same house and totally unreachable simultaneously. You just said I forced you into this, and if that's the case we have very different ideas of what's happened here."

"Forced was the wrong word—"

"Right place, wrong time. Always. You haven't …" Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"I haven't what?" Draco placed his hands on his hips and said, "Please explain what the bloody hell I've done to make you feel like this isn't working. We were fine on Sunday, and now you want to leave."

"Because this isn't fair to your son. Not when you are so clearly set on maintaining the distance you've had from him, and creating more distance between you and me. We haven't had sex the entire time I've been here—"

"We haven't had time!"

"You're a man! Men make time!" shouted Hermione. "Every man I know makes time for sex. The moment Harry felt confident in his recovery, he was shagging Ginny enough to make up for the year he didn't. Ron could barely keep it in his pants long enough to give his wife a break between kids. Padma's shagging her husband God only knows how many times per week, Parvati and Cedric had sex more often than any other couple I've met. I've been alone for seven, nearly eight years now while all my friends have been very, very active. I'm used to celibacy. It's just like Cormac said, the nun clothes for my nun lifestyle."

Something dark came over Draco just then. His entire body tensed.

"Do not act as if anything that man said is true."

"You've made it true!"

"I have not!"

"Every time we have sex it's slow, premeditated, and discussed. You don't have the want for me that I have for you. When I had sex with Viktor he would beg me to ride his face. Hell, he had to sit out a game once when we were together because of a tongue laceration. I'd come home from an assignment and Ron would fuck me on the kitchen table because he couldn't wait long enough to get to the bedroom. Draco, I have been with men who desired me, and it's clear you don't. But I thought …" Hermione's voice was weak to her own ears. "I thought you loved me. Then I'm here now," she shook her head, "and you don't."

"I can't believe you think that." Draco shook his head and said, "There's no way you don't know that I love you. The depth of the love I have for you, Hermione, I will sink into it for the next fifty years and never reach the bottom."

Hermione wanted to believe him. Draco stepped forward, so close to Hermione that she could not move her neck back far enough to see his face. He placed one hand on her waist and said,

"I had a lunch meeting yesterday. More real estate rubbish, paperwork shit I should hire someone else to do. Six of us here in the office, one bloke was talking, and I wasn't listening. I couldn't think about real estate at all. Instead, my thoughts were occupied by your neck."

Hermione gasped a bit when Draco placed his hand at the base of her neck, fingers and thumb on either side of her throat. She looked straight ahead, into his chest, wondering—

"You can't move your neck fully, but which muscles must I be careful with? The ones down closer toward the base and the back, yes?"

Hermione shakily confirmed, "Yes."

"If I …" Draco moved his hand upward so his hand was more around the middle of her throat. "Choking someone in bed isn't about the front of the neck; you want your partner to breathe. When you apply pressure on the sides …"

Hermione felt the pads of his fingers press the slightest bit against the sides of the centre of her neck.

"… You restrict the blood flow. Can I touch you here?"

Hermione let out a breathy, "Yes," as Draco's fingers tightened more around her neck. Her heartbeat began to jump, an unsteady rhythm in her chest.

"Have you ever had a man choke you, Hermione?"

She whispered, "No," straight into the buttons of his shirt. She was a bit dizzy, whether from Draco's hand around her neck or the sudden dark tone of his voice, she couldn't know.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Did you ask them not to?"

A whispered, "Yes."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"I couldn't stop thinking about this. I wasn't like this with Astoria, our sex was rather … What's the word people use? Vanilla. She'd fuck me, I'd fuck her, it was nice and gentle, loving … The way I thought you wanted me to be. But it appears you would enjoy my interests as they once were."

He wasn't wrong, but Hermione had barely put his words together in her mind before he began to speak again.

"My mind tends to wander to you during meetings. Monday was atrocious. A line of people traipsing in and out. Late evening, I had a virtual call and kept staring at my desk. I thought about bending you over it, facing the door. Fucking you from behind and waiting for my next meeting to walk in so they could see your incredible tits and know they will never touch them. Only I know how your tits feel in my hands."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she pictured it. Draco pulled up her dress and stuffed his hand down her knickers. She moaned as he loosened his hold on her neck and applied pressure to her clit. Her brain was too fuzzy to pull a complete thought together. She'd been angry at him, hadn't she? He moved his free hand to rest on Hermione's back, as if keeping her upright. Her legs were slowly liquifying as he continued to prove … something. There had been a point to this, but Hermione couldn't be bothered to find it.

"Even before we were officially together, I'd watch you on telly and repress the thoughts. Though they always seemed to come around again."

Hermione whimpered at the word come. Draco chuckled and teased,

"Hmm, Hermione Granger likes being told what to do?"

She nodded her head the slightest bit and felt pressure building between her thighs. God, that was embarrassing, it hadn't been two minutes. Or had it? Time was rather gelatinous. Draco's long fingers made agonizingly slow circles against her clit, but she didn't dare touch him. Hermione didn't want this to end.

"I thought about what life with you would be like. A random evening on a workday, I'd be on the sofa, watching an old film, with you kneeling between my legs. You'd be reporting and I would look at you, thinking about how your lips would look around my cock. The sound of you popping off to breathe, then me pulling you down the slightest moment before you are ready. Spittle making a bridge from the tip of my cock to your bottom lip."

Hermione moaned. She squeezed her eyes fully closed and her nose scrunched up in a way she knew wasn't cute. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't sexy, it was desperate. She felt Draco's hand once again circle her throat, and he squeezed the sides of her neck even tighter. Draco's voice was low and firm, his breath hot against the shell of her ear.

"We can argue about me being a shit father, but don't you dare tell me I desire you less than Weasley did. I won't stand for it."

Hermione gripped the sides of his trousers as she came. Draco continued to apply pressure to her clit, as she supported herself against him. Her fingernail caught on the edge of his belt and split. She rolled her hips, trying to get the pads of his fingers to hit the precise angle to push her completely over the edge. She couldn't move her head much, Draco's fingers around her neck kept Hermione in place. Her whole body trembled, and her ankles moved a bit as she tried not to fall over. She must've looked pathetic, but God, it felt good. Draco Malfoy held her by the neck and cunt, Hermione's entire being some liquified form between them. She let out a tiny scream as her orgasm really hit, choked off low in her throat. Draco finally let go of her neck and pulled her close. Hermione hugged him around the waist and continued to ride out her orgasm until her body stilled. She mumbled,

"Please stop."

Draco pulled his hand away and held Hermione in his arms. She didn't want to leave; this was the closest they had ever been. The most honest they had been with each other. Draco adjusted Hermione's dress and she said,

"Thank you."

Draco kissed the top of Hermione's head and said, "It's been a very long time since I've seen that part of myself. I missed him, a bit. Now, I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I promise to be at dinner tonight. I am sorry to have made you feel so alone, Hermione. I suppose I've been alone for so long, I've forgotten what it's like to have a partner to care for every day."

"It's not only me." Hermione's voice was hoarse. "You have a son to care for every day."

"I know."

"I'm not certain you do."

.oOo.

Hermione spent the next couple hours sitting on the bed, reading a book from the manor library. It truly was the easiest return commute for a book: library to bed then back again. Draco's bedroom was the least lonely part of the house because it was so quintessentially Draco Malfoy. Hermione had finally taken the watch Draco bought her out of its box and wound it properly. It was a bit ostentatious on her right wrist, but what was Draco Malfoy if not overly ostentatious?

Partway through her book, Hermione picked up her phone. To hell with it, she had to talk to someone. She clicked on Padma's contact info and placed the phone on speaker as it rang. She answered with a half-hearted,

"Hermione?"

"I met your father-in-law."

"Lance is great." The tapping of keyboard keys was steady throughout Padma's response. "If Bastien ages like his father then I am a very fortunate woman."

Hermione wondered, "Why don't I remember him from your elopement?"

Padma let out a deep, instinctive sigh, one which came from her soul. She admitted,

"I nearly shackled you to Parvati because the sparks between her and Bastien's father were ridiculous. I understand women feel safe around Lance because they know he's far too good of a man to do anything they don't want him to do. Most women, it turns out, are willing to let him do quite a lot of things. I am a reasonable woman, Hermione, but I was not going to let my twin sister shag my father-in-law at my wedding."

"That is perfectly fair."

"Nothing ever happened, but it took awhile for things to settle. Cedric helped that along."

"He mentioned you made Bastien's wedding band yourself?"

Padma's voice was noticeably softer when she replied, "We did. I thought he might consider it a bit ridiculous, me setting up camp in a corner of the smithy. He's taught me so much about metalworking because none of the boys he considered his sons were ever interested. Lance was excited to have someone to teach, and I was more than happy to learn."

"Since you and Bastien don't want kids, how do you … What sort of …" Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. "I don't know how to ask the question."

"I can't help because I don't understand what you're getting at."

"How often do you and Bastien sleep together?"

"About five times a week. My husband is handsome as hell, huge, and fit. I take every opportunity to fuck his brains out, Hermione, so I may not be the best gauge for you."

"I'm not asking about quantity. How do you keep from getting pregnant, is what I'm asking."

"Oh." Padma finally stopped typing and seemed to realize, "Oh. Now that you're with Draco every day … I see. I'm afraid I'm not of much help to you. Bas had a vasectomy long before I met him. He has quite a profligate, promiscuous past and did not wish to repeat his father's mistake. Birth control has never been a conversation for us."

"Oh, God." Hermione groaned, "That means I have to ask Ginny."

"I thought you asked how not to get pregnant," teased Padma.

Hermione laughed as she heard Padma's fingers once again tap against the keyboard.

"Condoms feel like the relationship is temporary. I know that's not accurate, of course, but I want to have sex with my boyfriend and not break in the middle of it to ensure we have one. Obviously I can't ask Ron or Harry."

"I hate to say it, Hermione, but the best person to ask is Parvati."

"It seems like the worst timing imaginable."

"She might feel good about it. I think all of us tiptoeing around her is making things worse. Since you phoned," Padma hesitantly asked, "will you give me your opinion on something?"

"Of course."

The sound of keystrokes on the other end of the call stopped abruptly.

"Bas and I had a difficult conversation last night. It didn't end well, and it's entirely my fault."

"I find that difficult to believe." Hermione admitted, "The two of you can work through anything."

"He wants to retire from boxing."

"Oh." Hermione paused for several moments before conceding, "It seems like an abrupt decision."

"I told him to think about it, and to give me time to think about it. Boxing is something we share, in a way. He's only thirty-three, but he is concerned about the impact it's having on his body. Bruises take longer to fade and cuts take more time to heal. That blow to his liver is still giving him a fit weeks on from it. Bas said he wants to focus on his career."

"It may sound a bit high-minded, but what is there to reach for as a pharmacist? Hasn't he risen as far as he can go up the ranks?"

"He wants to return to school for his PhD in Neuropharmacology. I know people don't expect it of him because of his size, but Bas is rather brilliant. I prayed for a husband because it would make my mother happy; I cared very little for whether it made me happy. Bastien is everything I never thought to ask for. He's so unlike most men I meet, them being self-assured with little to back it up other than a degree, an office job, and season tickets to a football club. Bas is out every three months running vaccination clinics for the homeless. He is the full package and I feel like a terrible wife for not wanting him to give up this thing we've shared the entire time we've been together."

Hermione blinked down at the phone, hardly believing her luck.

"A PhD in London?"

"It was a bit of a mouthful. Here, he texted it to me. A PhD studentship in blood biomarkers of Small Vessel Disease related to cognitive impairment and neuroimaging findings at Imperial College London."

Hermione paused for a long while, flipping through the pages of her book. She laughed at the afternoon's absurdity. She was relieved to have someone with whom to share the loneliness of the past several days.

"Padma, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Are our partners smarter than us?"

Padma laughed and conceded, "They are. Depending on whom you ask … They might be prettier, too."