Author's Notes:
Here's Chapter 161 for you!
This is a continuation of Chapter 160.
As I mentioned last time, I have enjoyed writing these chapters, since they feel different and new to my usual chapters. However, I did get emotional writing the second half as it reminded me a little too much of losing my own Grandma two years ago. Today would've been her 84th birthday.
I've received a few comments and messages expressing similar feelings from my readers, so I want you to know that you're not alone.
Love, DW
P.S. Enjoy x
As six o'clock approaches, Draco excuses himself, heading for the lifts at the end of the corridor. While waiting, he stretches his back and legs, having been sitting in an awkward, hunched position at the end of Sarah's bed for the past few hours. Stepping inside the metal box that he still struggles to trust, Draco makes a mental note to find another chair for Sarah's room. He doesn't know how long he's going to be here with Hyperion, awaiting the arrival of Sarah's sons, so he might as well make himself comfortable.
Once on the ground floor, Draco exits the hospital and walks towards the secluded park, where he had apparated to earlier in the morning. Upon finding himself a bench, he removes his phone from his pocket and dials Hermione's number.
"How's Sarah doing?" His wife asks as soon as she answers.
Draco feels the tension in his shoulders relax upon hearing her voice. "There's no change. She's hanging on for now."
"Are you and Hyperion doing okay?"
"We're okay. Hyperion's been telling me stories about his life in the lead-up to meeting Sarah. He's lived quite the life. So has Sarah. However, her sons sound like a nightmare. I've met one of them, and he was awful. They all think Hyperion has been planning to scam them out of their inheritance, but that doesn't make any sense knowing Hyperion has lived with Sarah for the past thirty years," he chuckles in disbelief.
"They do sound awful," Hermione agrees. "Try not to get involved in any arguments defending Hyperion. He can take care of himself." When Draco remains silent, Hermione sighs, "It's too late, isn't it?"
"Maybe," Draco mutters.
"Remember, you're there for Sarah, not to get under each other's skin".
In the background, Draco hears Scorpius calling for his mother.
"I'm just on the phone with your daddy."
"Dada?" Scorpius questions.
"Yes, would you like to speak with him"?
"Hi, Dada," Scorpius says as soon as the phone is at his ear.
"Hello, son. Are you getting ready for nursery?"
"Yea, me 'ave b'eakfas'."
"What did you have?"
"Egg an' toast," his son informs him.
"That's sounds lovely."
"Where Dada?"
"I'm with Uncle Hyperion," Draco answers.
"O'tay, bye, Dada," Scorpius bids him goodbye, returning the phone to his mother.
"We're just getting ready to leave."
"I'll try to be home before you. Hopefully, Sarah's children will have arrived by then, and I can get away."
"Okay, see you later, love you."
"Love you too," Draco replies with a smile as he hangs up.
Walking across the car park towards the main entrance, Draco spots two men who look a lot like Arthur. While one is taller and with less hair, the other is small and stout. They're both very clearly two of Sarah's sons, and given the time it would take to fly home from Poland, Draco assumes neither is Benedict. An angry, protective feeling overwhelms Draco as he follows them into the lift.
The atmosphere is silent, but Draco can feel their eyes glaring at him. In a similar sense, he assumes they can also clearly see his Malfoy features and are questioning their relationship with him. Draco swiftly turns to the two brothers with a strained smile, not wanting to keep them guessing.
"Hello, let me guess. One of you is James, and the other is Neil, right? Sarah's sons?"
The tall man's jaw sets hard, not liking to be caught off guard.
"I'm Sarah's great-nephew," he introduces himself, holding his hand out for James or Neil to shake, but they both ignore the offer.
"You're Ryan's son?" The small brother asks, a slight Glaswegian accent mixed with his native Devonshire one.
"I get that a lot, Neil, but no. My father is Hy- Ryan's brother. Ryan's my uncle," Draco explains.
"Ryan has no connection to his real family. Why are you here?" The tall man, James, asks.
"We're all real family here. Ryan and my father were the sons of Arche's brother. We share the same great-grandparents," Draco gestures between himself and the two brothers, whose faces scrunch up in wrinkled disgust.
The door to the lift opens on Sarah's floor.
"I'm here to support my Uncle Ryan because I've heard stories about you, and I don't think he should be forced to put up with your bullshit alone," Draco explains, leaving the two men flabbergasted as he walks with speed back to Sarah's room.
Hyperion almost jumps to his feet as Draco bursts through the door.
"They're here. James and Neil are here. I met them in the lift," Draco breathlessly announces. "They're pissed. It might be my fault," he admits.
Shaking his head, Hyperion beckons Draco to sit in the chair.
"I think I need to stand up for this," Hyperion sighs, leaning on the foot rail of Sarah's bed.
Two seconds of peace later, the door flies open once more as James and Neil enter together. Hyperion stands tall, emanating the twenty-something-year-old who was desperate for a family.
"James, Neil, I'm so glad you could make it, and in such a timely fashion," Hyperion greets his cousins, hand held out, but they both reject his handshake.
"I do not like this boy of yours, Ryan. I want him gone from my mother's room," James orders.
Draco scoffs from the chair.
"He has an attitude that reminds me of you," James continues, looking at Draco in the chair. "Are you sure you're not one of his brats?"
"I wouldn't insult his children if I were you," Draco warns him.
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, I won't hold him back." Draco nods at his uncle, who is red in the face with anger.
"I don't want you here, and my mother certainly doesn't need you crowding around her hospital bed as she dies," James warns. "I suggest you leave and take your uncle with you before I call security. Her real family are here to look after her now."
Draco stands, glaring at the two men before him. "Did you teach Arthur that security threat? He already tried it, and since I'm here and he's not, you can assume it didn't work. Now, don't embarrass yourself by calling yourself Sarah's real family. I've known this woman for the past two years. I've spent holidays with her, yet I've never met you. Her real family are the ones who were there for her when she needed someone. There's a reason Hyp- Ryan is her number one contact on all her medical forms. She can't rely on any of you. You might think Sarah chose Ryan over you, but you had all but abandoned her years before he came into her life. All either of them wanted was a family, and they found it without you." Draco continues to stare between the two brothers.
Neil has the decency to glance down at his mother, a flicker of guilt across his face as he realises the truth behind the words thrown at him. However, James is not so ready to accept that truth as his face reddens, and he steps forward. Hyperion places a hand on his chest, keeping him away from Draco.
"You lay a hand on my nephew, and you'll see just how much I've been holding back for Sarah's sake," Hyperion warns.
James shoves the hand away. "If either of you think this will convince a solicitor to give you any of our inheritance, you are sorely mistaken. My son is a lawyer, and he knows our entitlement. You are nothing but scum, Ryan. You both might have the Malfoy name, but you are not one of us."
"Inheritance!" Hyperion cries, throwing his hands in the air. "Is that all you care about as your mother lies in her death bed, holding on for her beloved sons to come say goodbye? I'm glad she's in a coma because I fear the betrayal of her sons' love might have been the final blow for her."
James finally looks at his mother for the first time. Neil is knelt by her side, having found her hand beneath her blankets; he grasps it as he mutters words only for Sarah. Inching closer, James rests his hand on the foot rail, seemingly realising for the first time that soon, he would be saying goodbye to his mother for the last time.
Draco pulls Hyperion out of Sarah's room to give James and Neil privacy with their mother. Instead of hanging outside the room, Draco takes him to the nurses' station, where a few nurses finish paperwork before this shift ends at eight o'clock.
"Hello, we're Sarah Malfoy's relatives. My uncle came in with her yesterday afternoon and has been by her side ever since," Draco introduces themselves.
"Yes, I recall seeing Mr Malfoy in your relative's room. How may I help you? I'm Patricia, Sarah's head nurse," the woman asks.
"I understand it is not part of your job to put up with family drama, but we would like to confirm that Hyperion Malfoy is listed as Sarah's primary medical guardian?" Draco asks.
The head nurse collects Sarah's file from a pile and filters through a few sheets. "Yes, we have it confirmed here, from five years ago, when Sarah was hospitalised due to the flu. She signed and dated the form herself." Nurse Patricia nods. "I wouldn't worry, Mr Malfoy. No one but you can make medical decisions on Sarah's behalf."
"Thank you, that's very reassuring," Hyperion thanked the nurse.
As they walk away, Hyperion squeezes Draco's shoulder in thanks.
"Does Sarah have a will?" Draco quietly asks as they return to outside her hospital room.
Hyperion shakes his head. "When I first brought it up after Annabella passed, Sarah told me that she didn't care what we did with her money and assets after she died as it would be no concern of hers," he admits with a sigh. "I didn't have the heart to tell her that her sons were very concerned with what she did with her money and assets."
"Is there anything in particular you would have wanted left to you?" Draco asks curiously.
While Sarah's sons were more interested in the monetary value behind their mother's assets and splitting it between them, Draco knew his uncle well and knew that if there was anything he wanted, it would be a sentimental reason.
"Arche's gardening tools. They're my connection to my uncle and to Sarah. In the summer, she would sit in a deck chair, sipping on an iced lemonade and watch me as I gardened with those tools. She has this picture of her and Arche in the garden; it's their last picture together, and I tried my best to restore the garden to its former glory," Hyperion admits, teary-eyed.
"Go get them then," Draco urges his uncle. "If her sons have their own way, they'll take everything and leave you with nothing. They don't care about their father's tools, but if they know you want them, they'll take them just to forsake you."
"I can't; it wouldn't be right," Hyperion sniffs, shaking his head. "I'll ask Benedict when he gets here. He doesn't give a shit about his brother since they don't give a shit about him. He'll get them for me."
"Are you sure? I can get them now. It would only take me fifteen minutes," Draco offers.
"No, don't do it," Hyperion warns him.
"Okay, fine, not today," Draco promises. "Are you okay on your own? I'm just going to the bathroom."
"Sure, I'll be fine."
Alarte has never felt smaller or more insignificant than he does when his uncles are in town. Not that they would refer to themselves as such, except Benedict, but he grew up with his grandmother calling them his uncles, so that's how Alarte came to think of them. They wouldn't appreciate him calling Sarah his grandmother either, but she insisted, and nobody could refuse that woman anything. That's what his father used to say when Alarte asked why they lived with their grandmother after some children at school started making fun of him about it. Grandma asked them to stay, so they stayed. As a child, Alarte assumed his uncles didn't visit much because they couldn't say no to their mother, but as he grew up, he realised they just didn't give a shit.
Whenever they did visit, they held an air of superiority over Hyperion and his family. The house would feel colder as soon as they stepped inside, and Alarte felt like he had to be on his best behaviour, not that it ever impressed them.
As Alarte sits in the living room with Neville and Arthur, the silence is palpable, despite the television being on. Instead of daring to face Arthur, Alarte stares outside at the garden he had loved playing in as a child. His favourite area was the wooden trellises built into a covered walkway, with climbing plants and flowers now hiding the wood. As an emotional, confused teen, Alarte would sit on the stone bench beneath the trellis, out of view of everyone inside the house. He has the urge to run and hide there now, so he does. Politely excusing himself, Alarte walks through the kitchen and out the conservatory doors.
The covered trellis protects Alarte from the bitter morning wind that rustles the flowers and leaves around him. However, it doesn't protect him from the cold mid-November air. Pulling his woollen, jumper-clad arms around himself, Alarte settles himself down for a moment to himself. However, in this family, those rarely last long.
Almost immediately, his phone starts ringing. Not in the mood to talk to anyone, even Damion, Alarte answers bluntly.
"Yeah?"
"Alarte?" Draco's voice echoes out of his phone.
"Hey, how's Dad doing?"
"He's hanging in there. James and Neil are here now. Your Dad's been telling me all these stories about his life, and I need your help with something," Draco cuts to the chase.
"Are they being dicks?" He asks rhetorically.
"Of course, and I've only just met them. I don't think I helped the situation, though, and they certainly don't like me either."
"I wouldn't take it personally." Alarte shrugs dismissively.
"Well, your Dad certainly told them off for going on about their inheritance. Anyway, I asked your Dad what he would want from Sarah if he could have anything," Draco explains.
"What did he say?" Alarte asks curiously.
"Arche's gardening tools."
Alarte turns his head to the right, where the old brick shed has stood for over seventy years and currently houses Christmas decorations, along with all of Arche's tools.
"I offered to get them for him, but he refused."
"I can get them for you and hide them in my room," Alarte offers
"That's what I was hoping you'd say." He can hear the smile on Draco's face.
"I'll call you back once it's done," Alarte says, feeling like a spy on a special mission.
"Text me; I'll be back with your dad by then."
"Affirmative."
"What?"
"I'm just agreeing." Alarte rolls his eyes.
"Okay, see you later."
Once Draco has hung up, Alarte sneaks back into the house, where the key for the shed is hanging by the back door. Listening carefully, he can still hear the television on in the living room and hopes Neville and Arthur are still sitting in awkward silence, pretending to watch.
Alarte had never liked entering the shed, on account of all the spiders that had made the brick house its home, but since this was for his father's sake, he would be brave. Thankfully, Arche's gardening tools are relatively close to the door, being used more often than Christmas decorations. Inspecting the long leather bag, which held all the tools, Alarte ensures they're all present and accounted for.
"What are you doing in there?"
Alarte jumps out of his skin as he spins around to find Arthur glaring at him from beneath the trellis.
"Shit, man, you scared me half to death." Alarte places a hand on his increasingly thumping heart.
"Excuse me?"
"Ah, right, I'm just-" Alarte turns back to the shed. "Getting the Christmas decorations out. Grandma always has them up on the last weekend of November."
Alarte notices the way Arthur's lip twitches at him, calling Sarah his grandma, and smirks at his little act of rebellion, which is successful.
"Do you really think now is an appropriate time to be sorting this out?"
"Would you rather I sit on the couch and pretend to watch the TV? I thought you'd be glad to have me out of your way."
"I didn't realise you were this naive, boy. My mother," he begins, claiming Sarah as his own, "is dying in hospital. She won't be making it home for Christmas. Santa won't be visiting this house on Christmas Eve."
Alarte frowns in confusion. "I'm just trying to keep some level of normalcy around here for my family."
"As soon as my mother dies and we have control over her estate, you and that father of yours will be out of here," Arthur informs him. "Hopefully, in time for Christmas, so why don't you start packing."
Pleased with himself, Arthur takes his leave with a satisfied smirk. Alarte is frozen in shock at the realisation of just how awful his uncles are, threatening to throw his father out into the streets for Christmas. By the sounds of it, it's not a threat either.
Powered by his newfound hatred of his uncles, Alarte throws the leather bag of gardening tools over his shoulder, locks the shed behind him, and feels along the back wall for the door. Once upon a time, before the war, Arche and Sarah had been close with their neighbours and had built a wooden door into the wall to allow their children to play together across the two gardens. After the war, both wives found themselves widowed and raising their children alone, so continued to use the door as a way to keep each other company. However, about a decade ago, their neighbour had passed, and the door had remained unused. Despite being rusty, the hinges still work, and within seconds, Alarte is carefully stalking across their new neighbour's back garden and exiting onto the street via their side gate.
Taking out his phone, Alarte text Draco 'Mission completed unsuccessfully. On my way to Damion's house with the tools'. Then, he scrolls down to Damion's name and calls him.
"Hey, can I come over? I need to hide something in your bedroom."
"I guess, I'm home alone right now, so be quick."
"Really?"
"Not for that. You'll need to be gone before they get home."
"Oh, okay, see you in ten minutes."
Draco had returned to Sarah's room to find Hyperion still waiting outside, so he offered to head down to the cafeteria to get them both a good cup of tea instead of the swill the coffee machine had given them.
As he's riding the lift down to the basement floor, Draco receives a text from Alarte. He's not sure what has gone wrong but is pleased to hear he has the tools with him. He sends a quick 'Thanks' in reply and pockets his phone.
A few minutes later, with two cups of tea in his hand, Draco decides to take the stairs up to the main floor, as there is a family with two prams waiting for the basement lift.
In the hospital's main foyer, Draco waits for one of the five lifts to arrive. However, before the doors to the lift in front of him can open, he hears the yelling inside and steps back, preparing for a commotion. As soon as the doors open, Draco is surprised to find James and Neil being escorted out, against their will, by two security guards. Upon passing Draco, the two brothers send them daggers.
"You tell that uncle of yours," James spits in his direction. "He has until the end of the month to get himself and his lot out of that house before I get the solicitors involved."
Before Draco can retort, they've been dragged towards the main entrance. Draco steps into the lift, jabbing at the number for Sarah's ward, then rushes along the corridor to her room.
Hyperion slumps in his chair, hands in his head as it begins to ache. What had just occurred had been a long time coming. Hyperion and Sarah's sons avoided each other as much as possible, only coming together for special holidays, where they would spend a day keeping up appearances before the sons disappeared off to their own corner of Britain.
Nurse Patricia had been a godsend for immediately calling security when she heard the voices within Sarah's room beginning to rise. Had she not, Hyperion is certain he would be in a worse state.
Moments later, as if to make matters worse, Draco burst into the room, confusion already plastered across his face as he scanned the room until his eyes fell on him, sitting in the chair, an ice pack pressed against his cheekbone.
"What happened?" Draco asks, walking up to him and pulling the pack away to inspect. "Do you want me to fix it?"
"No," Hyperion brushes his nephew's hands away. "Nurse Patricia is helping me; it would be suspicious," he adds.
"Shit, Hyperion," Draco mutters. "Which one did this to you? Was it James? He was certainly being mouthy downstairs as security threw him out."
"James?" Hyperion laughs hard. "I don't think he'd know how to throw a punch. No, he got Neil to do his bidding. Not that he asked."
"What happened?" Draco repeats his questions.
"James had pressed the call button while I was still outside. Nurse Patricia came. We entered the room together, confused as to why she had been called when there was no change to Sarah's health. She was still stable. James demanded that I be removed from the hospital as I was not immediate family. I laughed and looked at Nurse Patricia, who made a show of checking Sarah's notes in the file at the end of her bed. Then she asked which one of us was Hyperion Malfoy, as he was Sarah's primary medical guardian and the only person permitted to remain in Sarah's room."
"That's amazing. I bet that went over well."
"You already saw that it didn't. Neil started shouting and bawling about how this was my plan all alone, to take over their mother's whole life, her house, her money, her medical care so that I could off her quickly and steal everything else. I jumped in to tell them that the last time Sarah was admitted to the hospital, none of her children showed up to visit her, and she was in for ten days. That's when she made me her guardian. I was there every day, twice a day. At that point, James stepped in front of Neil to stop him from throwing a punch; you could tell he wanted to; his fists were white."
"I'm surprised James stopped you," Draco mutters.
"He's been wanting to see me get punched for decades," Hyperion agrees with a small smile but winces from the pain. "James doesn't shout, he speaks deep and slow, trying to intimidate you. He asked if I thought I was better than them if I thought Sarah loved me more than them if I thought they didn't care about their mother. I shrugged and told them I don't think any of that; I know all of it is true, and thirty years of evidence doesn't lie. That's when James stepped aside, and Neil threw a punch at me. I made a big show of falling to the ground as Nurse Patricia yelled for security and stepped in front of me, ordering them to leave or they would placed on the 'no access' list. James refused to leave, telling her he wanted to speak to his mother's doctor since she clearly didn't have a clue what was going on around here. As soon as security arrived, they were dragged from the room, and Nurse Patricia brought me this ice pack."
"They won't be allowed back in," Draco states. "I hope they got the chance to say goodbye when they did."
"For Sarah's sake, I do, too," Hyperion sighs. "They'll probably go to Sarah's house now."
"Well, thankfully, Alarte's not there. He's gone to Damion's house."
"Good," Hyperion nods, not wanting to put his youngest son through having three of his uncles at home.
"Should we warn Neville?"
"Definitely." Hyperion takes out his phone and calls his eldest son, muttering quietly down the line so as not to make Arthur aware if he's nearby.
After hanging up, Hyperion makes another call.
"Abe, I need you to get to Sarah's as fast as you can. Neville is there on his own, and her boys are on their way." Hyperion listens, nodding to whatever his middle son is saying. "Arania's there? Okay, yes, take the whole family. I don't think they'll try anything in front of the kids, but if they get aggressive or physical, call the police and report them as trespassers."
Hyperion sighs as he pockets his phone. "I'm glad that's over with, for now."
"Me too. I'm not sure I ever want to meet them again," Draco states, stifling a yawn.
"You know, you don't have to stay anymore. They won't come back here; I'll be fine on my own," Hyperion mentions.
"Not a chance," Draco shakes his head. "Benedict hasn't arrived yet."
"His flight doesn't get in until tonight. Neville's going to get him and Alfred and bring them both here," Hyperion explains. "I'll call you once I know they're en route, and you can come back."
Draco pauses, "What does Benedict think of his brothers?"
"Oh, they don't talk, ever. James is extremely homophobic, and the other two don't have a spine, so they do whatever James says," Hyperion explains.
"I'm not surprised," Draco admits. "Rarely does hatred come in only one form."
"One year, they found out Benedict was coming home for Christmas and bringing Alfred with him, so they didn't show up, not even a phone call. Sarah was devastated. I called them, and they were at James', who said some truly heinous shit. Since then, Benedict doesn't spend Christmas with us, so his mum can have her other sons over. He's that selfless, even though Sarah would probably prefer Benedict over the others, not that she would ever admit that" he laughs. "It's just easier without them around."
"This year, you can have an easy, happy Christmas with those who want to be around their family, in Sarah's honour," Draco suggests.
"That'll be nice, but it won't be the same," he shrugs, standing up to hug Draco. "Now, go home and rest."
Instead of apparating to The Leaky Cauldron and flooing home, Draco apparates straight home, wanting to clear his mind as he walks the length of their driveway, however, today, it seems to stretch on forever. Having not slept well for over a week, with the seventh-year plan, the observation, and now Sarah being on his mind, Draco is more than ready to collapse on his bed, which is exactly what he does. He doesn't even bother to undress or pull the duvet over himself; he just covers his head with a pillow to block the sun from his face and immediately falls asleep.
He's awoken hours later by Hermione and Scorpius, who have just returned home from work and nursery.
"I'm glad you managed to get some sleep." Hermione kisses the top of his head. "Are you hungry?"
"Famished," Draco answers, opening his arms wide for Scorpius to dive into an embrace.
"I'll make a start on dinner." Hermione leaves.
Draco enjoys his much-needed cuddle with Scorpius for a few minutes before his son becomes restless, so they get up and join Hermione downstairs in the kitchen.
While Scorpius busies himself with playing in the living room, Draco fills Hermione in on the dramas of the day.
"They sound like truly awful people. I'm glad I never got the chance to meet them."
"I hate to think about what they'll be like at Sarah's funeral."
"Oh, don't even think about that, Draco."
"And I just don't believe a woman as sharp and clever as Sarah wouldn't have a will. She knows what her sons are like, so why risk it?"
"Some people just don't want to think about how life goes on without them once they've passed on," Hermione points out as she mixes a sauce with some vegetables in a pan.
Once dinner is ready, the family of three, soon to be four, sit at the kitchen table to dig in, and Draco catches up on how his wife's and son's day has been. That's when the call comes through.
"It's Hyperion," he mentions to Hermione as he answers. "Hey, is Benedict on his way?"
"Yes," Hyperion sighs. "It's time."
"Time for what?" Draco frowns.
Hermione reaches over to place a comforting hand on his free hand.
"Time to say goodbye, Draco."
Guilt settles in his chest. They'd just been laughing as Scorpius tried courgette for the first time, and he gave a little dance of enjoyment as he chewed—a moment of light in the darkness of the days to come. Draco knows Hyperion is talking, but he doesn't hear anything, focusing on Hermione hand in his and her sorrowful expression.
All at once, Draco hears everything clearly. Hyperion sounds rough, his voice sore from crying. In the background, Draco hears silence which haunts him. Having spent hours in that room, he knows how the machines sound. It was a dull and constant thrum in his ear.
"Sarah?"
"She's gone, son. She couldn't wait any longer."
"What about Benedict?"
"The doctors knew it was coming, so I called him and held the phone to her ear. He was waiting at the luggage claim. Neville's already on his way here. Abe and Arania are on their way with Alarte too. We just need you."
Draco lets out a sob. "I shouldn't. She should be surrounded by her family."
"You're family, Draco," Hyperion snaps passionately. "Don't listen to those bastards or your own bastard brain. Whether you were in her life for two years or two weeks, she would want you here to say goodbye. She loved unconditionally; she loved you and Hermione and Scorpius. Bring them too, if you want. My children are bringing their own."
"Okay, we'll be there soon," Draco agrees tonelessly.
Understanding immediately, Hermione begins collecting their plates and placing them in the sink to be dealt with later. Then she helps Scorpius out of his highchair and cleans his face with a wet cloth.
Draco nods at something his uncle is telling him. "I'm so sorry, Hyperion."
"We knew this was coming. We have no need to be sorry. She lived a life she was proud of, and despite all her hardships, she was the happiest person I've ever known," Hyperion says, breathing out a laugh. "I might write that down for her funeral."
Draco burst into laughter, which quickly turned into tears. Hermione is by his side before he can look for her comfort. Taking his phone, she informs Hyperion that they'll be there by half-past, and they both hang up.
"I don't know why I'm crying," he admits, staring into his wife's eyes as tears flow.
"You're grieving, Draco. Feelings are meant to be felt. Don't hide them," Hermione tells him, kissing his cheeks.
"I only knew her two years."
"That's a valid concern. You're also grieving the time you'll never have with her, but two years is not nothing. Two years is our son's whole life," she mentions. "Time means nothing when it comes to love and family. It only took us a month to fall in love."
Draco smiles at the memory, but as it fades, his brow furrows.
"Now, we're going to get our shoes and coats on, and we're going to the hospital to say our final goodbyes to Sarah Malfoy, where we are going to be surrounded by other family members we have known for two years but love more than time can tell."
Nodding, Draco stands, drying his face on his sleeve. He needs to be as strong as he can be for Hyperion, who arguably has the closest relationship with Sarah than anyone else, her sons included.
"Dada otay now?" Scorpius asks, watching his father carefully from his highchair.
"No, baby," Draco lifts his son from his seat. "Daddy's feeling very sad, but it's okay because we're allowed to be sad."
"Yeah," Scorpius agrees, hugging his Dad tightly. "Why sad?"
"Do you remember when we went to the hospital to visit Hyperion and Sarah?"
Scorpius nods, "Sawah in bed."
"Yes, that's right. Sarah was not very well, so the healers were trying to make her better, but it didn't work," Draco grits his teeth as the words come to him. "Sarah has died." Tears prickle his eyes again as he vocalises the truth.
"Died?" Scorpius asks, having not heard the word before and trying to familiarise himself with it.
"When people are very old or very poorly, their bodies stop working, and they die. Sarah was an old lady, and she was also very poorly," Draco tries to explain as kindly and innocently as he can for his two-year-old.
Hermione returns with all their shoes and coats, opening her arms for Scorpius so Draco can get himself sorted.
"I never thought I'd have to explain death to my two-year-old," he expresses his frustration as he tries to tie his shoelaces, but his fingers are shaking too much.
Flicking her wand, Hermione silently cast a charm to tie them for him.
"He's a clever boy and very aware. He'll pick up things over the next few weeks and understand what death means on his own, as long as we lay the foundation and are there for him along the way," Hermione explains, helping Scorpius to pull his jacket on.
Draco stares at his wife in awe at her intelligence, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time. "I love you."
Hermione is knocked off guard. She glances over from where she's trying to push Scorpius' feet into his shoes.
"I love you too, Draco. I'm right here, whatever you need, I'm not going anywhere.""
"Thank you for everything. I don't think I appreciate how much your love for me has supported me in growing into the person I am now."
"The sentiment is beautiful, and I love you more than I ever thought possible, but how many times do I have to tell you that you were well on your way to becoming the person you are now before we fell in love? You know I wouldn't have given you the time of day in our marriage had you not been making a substantial effort yourself," she explains, pulling on her own coat.
Draco picks up his son, hugging him tight. "I just want to give you some credit."
Hermione rolls her eyes as they head towards their floo fireplace. "I'll take partial credit."
Stepping into Diagon Alley, Hermione takes his hand and gestures for him to take them to the hospital since she's never been.
Draco keeps a tight hold of her hand once they appear in the secluded park, and he guides them towards the main entrance. There's no urgency in their journey through the corridors, in the lift or along the corridor to Sarah's room. They arrive outside the room with a feeling of finality. Absentmindedly, they pause, and Hermione doesn't force his hand, waiting for him to be ready to knock on the door himself.
However, Scorpius isn't as observant as his mother and knocks for them.
"Hello!" Their son calls out.
Hyperion opens the door to reveal a room full to the brim with Hyperion's children and grandchildren, all there for him and Sarah.
In one corner of the room, the toddlers are playing with a few toys, completely unaware of the grief their parents are currently dealing with. Draco places Scorpius down with the other children, and he sits straight down to play with them.
Together, Draco and Hermione make their way around the room, each member of Sarah's family as they share a few words of polite greetings. The only people missing are Neville and Alarte, who are still driving from Exeter airport with Benedict and Alfred.
Once they've done the rounds, Draco hugs his uncle tightly.
"What's happening with her sons?"
"James and Neil aren't allowed on the hospital grounds at all, and Arthur is staying away for now," he mutters.
Draco nods as Hyperion moves to hug Hermione.
"Thank you for coming."
"Of course, Hyperion. Anything for family."
"Family," Hyperion mutters, his eyes scanning the room full of his family.
"Do you think twenty-year-old you could imagine a life where these many members of your own family would surround you?" Draco asks.
"Not a chance," Hyperion sighs. "I'll forever be grateful to Sarah for giving me a second chance at a family.
"You also gave Sarah a second chance at a family. She had lost half of hers in the war and then been abandoned by her other half, who chose to move away or travel the world. Then you came into her life and gave her everything she had lost. No wonder she begged you to move in and stay," Draco explains.
Hyperion tries to wipe the tears from his eyes before they can fall. Draco wraps his arm around his uncle's shoulders. "Feelings are meant to be felt. Don't try to hide them from us when we're all feeling the same thing," Draco repeats what Hermione had told him just half an hour ago.
"I'm so glad you're here, and as soon as Neville is here with Benedict and Alfred, our family will be complete, and all together in the same place for the first time in years, and despite the circumstances, Sarah would be happy to have us all in one room again," Hyperion comments.
Draco had been avoiding looking over at the hospital bed, which Hyperion's children are surrounding. Now, he lets his eyes scan over the woman's face. He doesn't notice any difference between Sarah lying in bed now and the Sarah he saw earlier today. She looked just as peaceful, but now, all the machines that had been helping keep her alive were gone from the room, and a certain stillness filled the air.
However, there are also stories and chuckles as Hyperion's children share their favourite memories of their grandma while they wait for those absent family members to arrive. Draco and Hermione lean against the back wall, listening with saddened amusement as everyone recalls each moment.
Twenty minutes later, Alarte pushes the door open and steps aside for a tanned blond man to enter.
"Ryan!" The man calls for his cousin, arms already open for an embrace.
"Oh, Benny; I'm so sorry," Hyperion sobs, having held it together until the older man arrives.
"You have nothing to apologise for, Ryan. You've been by Mum's side every day for the past thirty years, caring for her when I couldn't and the others wouldn't. I'm so thankful for you and your family," Benedict states, hugging Hyperion tightly. "Come here, kiddos." He beckons Avis, Abe, Arania, and Alarte to join the hug.
Hyperion's children don't have to be told twice as they dive in for the group hug.
"Where's Neville?" Hyperion asks.
"Parking the car. We jumped out at the entrance," Alfred answers, his hand on Benedict's shoulder.
"How are you, Alfie?" Hyperion asks, hugging him too.
"I'm well, thank you. I'm glad I could be here to support Benny," he says, knowing that if Benedict's brothers were here, Alfred wouldn't have been allowed to enter the room.
"You're family too."
Alfred smiles, showing off all the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, which represent all the happiness he and Benedict have shared.
Draco feels out of place watching his family comfort each other, but he knows it's not his place to intrude on this moment for Benedict, and he does his best to blend into the wall until the man looks right at him with a curious, confused expression upon his face.
"Hello, sorry to have ignored you. You're clearly in need of a hug, too; come here."
Before he can protest, Draco is pulled into one of Benedict's famous hugs.
"I hope you don't find this rude, but who are you?"
"I'm Hyperion's nephew."
"Oh, of course, Draco, right. Mum told me about you a few years ago, said you were from Ryan's past family and had come looking for him," Benedict mentions. "You seem like the right kind of family."
"Thank you. I'm pleased to meet you. Although, I wish it was under different circumstances," Draco says.
Benedict sighs, finally letting go of their embrace, "Me too."
"Let us give you a moment alone with your Mum, Benny," Hyperion offers, gesturing for his children to leave.
"Thank you, Ryan." Benedict pats him on the shoulder as everyone files out.
Draco quickly collects Scorpius from the corner and carries him out into the corridor, where they all make their way to the family room. A few people sit in the various armchairs, and the children go off to play with some of the toys the hospital has provided.
Avis pauses at the door, her phone in her hand. "I'm going to call Spencer. Let him know what's going on."
"All right, love." Hyperion nods as his eldest daughter walks towards the lifts to call her son.
As soon as he steps into the room, Alarte walks right up to him, looking stressed.
"Dad, I need to talk to you," Alarte mutters to his father.
Hyperion frowns slightly. "Now's not a good time, Al. Can't it wait?"
"?No, you need to know now," he says with urgency, drawing the attention of his siblings.
"What's going on Al?" Arania asks, stepping forward worriedly.
"It's Arthur, he spoke to me this morning."
Hyperion frowns. "What did he say?"
"I was in the shed," Alarte begins, his eyes flicking to Draco. "I was getting the Christmas decorations out. I needed to do something normal, and Grandma always puts the decorations up on the last weekend of November."
"Okay, hurry up, what did he say?" Abe urges him to get to the point.
"He said that as soon as Grandma dies, they're going to kick us out of our house before Christmas," Alarte states.
"They can't do that, can they, Dad?" Arania turns to their father to question him.
"You've lived there for the past thirty years. You have as much a right to live there as they do, more even," Abe points out.
"Hyperion," Draco calls his attention. "When James and Neil were being dragged out of here, I saw them, and James told me to tell you that you have until the end of the month to get out of the house."
"Where's Avis when you need her?" Neville asks, glancing around the room.
"Once we've had the funeral, we can all gather at the house and pack everything that is ours," Hyperion states. "Maybe I'll find a little cottage somewhere nearby. At least I'll never have to put up with them three brothers anymore."
"But, our whole childhood is in that house. We've never known any other home," Alarte cries. "How can you just give up so easily?"
"Memories are not in a house; they're in our hearts, and I don't need a house to remember watching my children grow up surrounded by love and warmth. And suppose my memories fail me in my old age. In that case, I'll have all of you and the thousands of pictures your mother made me organise into photo albums over the years," Hyperion emotionally admits to his children.
"Dad, you can come live with us while you find a place," Neville offers, earning an elbow and glare from his wife. "The girls can share for a couple of weeks."
"I am not sharing a room with Kyla. She wets the bed," Joelle adamantly states.
"And how does that affect you, Jo?" Arania asks her niece while Carol comforts an embarrassed Kyla.
"I'll be fine. I don't want to be a burden and cause all this stress," Hyperion dismisses the offer.
"Dad, you could never be a burden. In the same way, Grandma was never a burden. We did all we could for her because we loved her, and we'll do anything to help you because we love you more than anything else or anyone else," Arania assures her father.
Everyone in the room nods, echoing her sentiments.
Hermione elbows Draco gently and then nods at him to go ahead.
"Hyperion, we have more than enough space at our home. You could stay for as long as you need, and I can drop you off in Tiverton whenever you want to visit everyone else," Draco suggests. "We can even host your annual Boxing Day Christmas Party at our house. As I said, we have enough room for everyone," he assures them.
"I can't think about this right now." Hyperion shakes his head, turning away from them.
The room quiets as the door opens, and Avis enters.
"Spencer's coming home early for Christmas so that he can attend the funeral," she explains, but then notices the strange looks around the room. "What are we talking about?"
"Dad's getting kicked out of our own house by the end of the month," Abe explains.
"We're just discussing where he's going to stay while he gets back on his feet," Arania adds.
"They can't kick you out; you have residency rights. You've lived there the last thirty years, Dad," Avis assures him.
Hyperion shakes his head. "I don't want to fight with them. It's their house now; they can do what they want with it," he sighs. "Sarah didn't have a will, so her sons will get everything. Inheritance goes to the next of kin, which doesn't include great-nephews."
Avis frowns, staring around the room again. "Grandma had a will."
"No, she didn't. She told me that it was no concern of hers what everyone did with her money and assets after she died," Hyperion clarifies.
Avis shakes her head. "Dad, Grandma called me a few weeks after Mum's funeral. She asked if I had the name of a good family lawyer to handle her will. I gave her the number of my colleague. He later gushes about how she was a lovely woman, so I know they met."
"Why wouldn't she tell me any of this?"
"It was right after Mum died; she probably didn't want to add any stress."
Hyperion lowers himself down into the nearest armchair. "This doesn't change anything. There's no way Sarah's left me the house or the money to buy the others out. All I want are Arche's gardening tools and maybe some of Sarah's plates that Annabella bought her. Other than that, I'll be fine."
Draco and Alarte exchange a look at the mention of the gardening tools, but they both shake their heads, not wanting to inform Hyperion they had gone against his wishes to acquire them.
At that moment, a new nurse enters with a collection of documents that Sarah's medical guardian needs to sign. Hyperion leaves to sign them, leaving his children and Draco behind.
"Are you sure you're happy to have Dad stay with you for a bit?" Arania asks Draco.
"Of course. He can stay in the basement flat. He'll have his own kitchen and bathroom. We're never home during the day, so he'll have the house to himself, and it'll be nice to have a new face to come home to after work," Draco confirms.
"You're amazing!" Arania hugs him.
"Once Grandma's been transported to the funeral home, her sons will probably go visit her, that's when we strike," Abe mentions. "We'll all head home, pack as much of our things as we can into our cars, and get out of there before they return."
"No, if we want to claim Dad's rights to the house, then Al and Dad need to remain residing there until the will reading at least," Avis explains. "Draco, Hermione, you should stay too. You've travelled quite far to visit our grandmother, so you can't expect to travel back tonight. That's what you tell them when they ask. Uncle Benny and Alfie will be there too. We'll outnumber them and make them uncomfortable, for once."
"You're good at this, Avis," Abe comments.
"You don't become a good lawyer without being a bit of a bitch," Avis smiles sweetly.
Once Hyperion returns and they inform him of their plans, he is more than ready to accept if it means getting to sleep in his bed for the first time in days. Benedict promises to stay by his mother's side until she is ready for transportation, and then he'll meet them at home.
Hyperion's children and their families hug him tightly and bid farewell in the car park. Then, Draco, Hermione, Scorpius and Alarte climb into Hyperion's car, ready to head home and face the barrage of abuse that is bound to be thrown at them, but whatever happens, Draco will be there to protect his uncle. After all, they're family, and he'll do anything to help him.
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