Draco plopped into his office chair the moment his door closed behind Hermione.

He unfastened his trousers then pushed his pants down far enough to get his hand around his cock. Draco closed his eyes and tilted his head back; well aware this would be the shortest wank of his life. Hermione's eyes rolling upward in ecstasy played on repeat in his mind. Her tiny body writhing against his hand, barely able to move, grasping onto him as her orgasm hit. He could almost see her brain begin to slow, as she finally allowed herself to trust in Draco's experience. Once she stopped thinking, Hermione was free to feel all the things she'd never let her body do before.

Draco came unexpectedly. He squeezed his eyes closed and applied gentle pressure around his dick before his whole body went limp in the chair. His limbs were spread outward over the chair and lax, like a half-finished bowl of linguini. He let out a small, satisfied laugh, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Whatthefuck."

He hadn't done anything so dominant in ten years. He sure as hell never did that with a partner who could control any situation she found herself in. That was unexpected and confusing and wonderful.

Then he realized the door to the office was unlocked. Anyone, staff or, God forbid, his son, could come walking in to find Draco at his desk with his limp cock flopping about. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants, stood to zip his trousers, then began to pace the length of the office.

What had he done? What had they done? Hermione tried to leave Draco and his solution was sex, playing into every stereotype people had of him. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Think. His head was spiraling down three different paths and Draco had no idea where he was.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the Theo/Bastien group chat. They were on the line moments later, with Bastien audibly crashing through things as he moved to a back room of the pharmacy.

"What's wrong?" asked Theo. "You wouldn't call me during work unless something had gone wrong."

"Oi," Bastien said, "I'm here, too! When's Blaise joining?"

Draco said, "This is a straight mates conversation."

"Oh."

Draco heard the smile in Bastien's voice.

"Yeah, yeah, don't be a prick about it. I've got a sex question."

"Just gonna say it now, brother," said Theo, "those are usually best put to your woman first."

"Right, except I don't know how to ask. I'm phoning to ask you how to ask."

Bastien asked, "What are you asking?"

Theo said, "Who's asking what?"

"Both of you shut the hell up!" The room was spinning. Draco tossed his phone on the table and fell back into his chair. He pressed his fingers to his temples and said, "Do you remember when Tori and I first started dating? We had a discussion about sex because we had some … differences."

"Yeah," Bastien chuckled, "as I recall, she put a stop to the kinky shit. I remember those submissive twinks hovering around you like moths to a flame. Like they could sense it." Bastien laughed louder and trailed off into a sigh. "The desperation was gross as hell, mate."

Theo added, "Rules. Astoria had preferences and you called them rules."

"Because if your girl has preferences, those are rules." Draco paused before adding, "Right?"

Theo confirmed, "Right."

Bastien was confoundingly silent. Theo wondered,

"You disagree, Bas?"

"Sort of." Bastien wondered, "It depends on experience, yeah? Padma hadn't been with anybody who liked the things I like. Never tried most of the things I like, so what she thought she didn't like …" He paused before saying, "It turns out she likes quite a lot."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He fumbled through his desk for something to clean off the come.

"I'm lost."

"Give me one fucking second to make sure nobody's outside the door …" The sound of a door opening and then closing quickly on Bastien's end came through clearly. "Right, yeah, Padma likes violence. Not being submissive and shit, it's more about being small. I'm a lot fucking bigger than her, she'd never been with someone large enough to toss her around, so she didn't know until the first time we had sex. She asked me to fuck her so hard she couldn't think, so I did. Ten minutes later, I asked her to marry me and she said yes."

"Right, so the secret to a successful marriage is just a properly hard fuck and an engagement right after?" teased Theo.

"The secret to a successful marriage is having a badass wife."

"Agreed."

"Can we get back to the point, please?" Draco huffed, "I've got ten minutes before my next meeting, I'm wiping come off the underside of my desk, I've gone quite mad, here."

"Sorry … You're wiping what off of where?" asked Theo.

"Hermione and I were having a bit of a row and she tried to break up with me."

"No!"

"What?!"

"She said Krum and Weasley desired her more than I do physically, but I've been thinking of her constantly. I thought it best since I hadn't shagged anyone for so many years to begin at a slow pace, keep things a bit more reserved. We've been official for, what, six weeks? I think we've shagged four times now. When she said I didn't desire her, something in my brain snapped. I choked her here, standing, in the middle of the room. Stuffed my hand up her dress. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she made the most desperate sounds. Fucking incredible watching her in my hands like that and I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed that sort of thing."

"Sorry," Bastien said, "you choked Hermione Granger? World-class journalist, multilingual barrister, future UN Ambassador Hermione Granger let you put your hand around the neck she can barely move?"

"Mhmm."

"Fucking hell, Draco. That is a lot of trust for her to place in you."

"I know, I know." Draco pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm losing my mind. I'm going mad."

"Listen," said Theo, "I quite like Hermione. After Bas's elopement we kept up with each other because I like her. She's great for the country, you know, people never give a shit about foreign policy until Hermione gets on her soapbox and tells us all what's going on. When you're in a room with her, when you're talking to her, she always knows more than everyone else. It's scary how she intimidates people because she's so short and small—she's always in heels. I've never seen her not in heels. But she has never been in a room with anyone and thought, 'This man's intimidating.' She's not scared of anyone, and when that is the life you live … All I'm saying is that maybe in the bedroom she's the sort of person who likes to be taken down a peg because it's the only place she can be taken down a notch."

Oh.

"How do I ask?" asked Draco. "How do I ask Hermione what she likes?"

Theo offered, "You could try asking it just like that."

"Right," scoffed Draco, "'Oi, Hermione, do you like being submissive in bed? D'you like being told to suck my cock?' She'd have her bags packed in five minutes."

"Like I said, it may be that she doesn't know the answer is yes. My suggestion is to ask Hermione what she liked about what you just did to her, then take the conversation from there."

"That's a good idea," added Theo. "I like Bas's idea. Don't listen to me."

Draco shook his head and stared at the closed door.

"This woman is doing something to me."

.oOo.

Draco finished work a bit after five-thirty that afternoon. He half-walked, half-jogged to his bedroom, head still spinning. These hallways were too fucking long, too fucking narrow, too far away from Hermione Granger. He flung the bedroom door open to find her reading on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head so he could see the cover …

"Principles of politeness, and of knowing the world?" asked Draco. "Shall we take a stroll about the garden so I may scandalize the county by removing a glove from your hand in public?"

Hermione was unfazed. Draco took the time to close the door behind him, sealing the space off from the rest of the house. Their space. She turned the page and shook her head, fascinated.

"Listen to this. 'However insignificant a company may be; however trifling their conversation; while you are with them, do not shew them by an inattention that you think them trifling; that can never be the way to please, but rather fall in with their weakness than otherwise, for to mortify or show the least contempt to those we are in company with is the greatest runnels we can be guilty of, and what few can forgive. I never yet found a man inattentive to the person he feared, or the woman he loved; which convinces me that absence of mind is to be got the better of, if we think proper to make the trial; and, believe me, it is always worth the attempt.'" Hermione shook her head and said, "This is what I've done in journalism and struggled to articulate. Here I have," she looked at the front of the manuscript, "The Reverend Dr. John Trusler of 1798 to thank for putting words to it."

"He was a curate for the parish here in Wiltshire," said Draco. "He actually wrote Principles of Politeness in 1775, but my, God, which was it?" He hummed softly to himself thinking, "I believe my eight-times-great grandfather forced him out of the county and over toward Bath for being a con man and a plagiarist. I am delighted to see you've stepped away from the parenting books to flip through one of our manuscripts."

Hermione shook her head and mumbled, again, "Fascinating. 'I never yet found a man inattentive to the person he feared, or the woman he loved.' What an incredible line." She said, "I may steal it."

"May we talk about the attention I paid you this afternoon?"

Hermione's eyes continued to hop through the lines of the manuscript, but she nodded. Draco shifted so he was leaning against the bedroom door.

"What did you like about what we did?"

Hermione's eyes stopped, lingered, then seemed to gloss over. Draco could nearly see the memory of that moment playing in her mind as she considered how best to answer. She looked over at Draco to say,

"Being led through it was what I liked. I felt safe, even though you had your hand around my neck." She lifted her hand and pressed the pads of her fingers against her throat, recalling how Draco's fingers felt against her skin. "You were in control, which meant I didn't have to be. I liked feeling the intensity of how badly you want me. It's what I'd been hoping for since our first moment together in the BMW."

That stung. She hoped for more from him the entire time they'd been together? How awful of a partner had he been? Draco could see Hermione didn't wish to speak much more on the subject, as her face was rapidly turning pink. He said,

"Define the intensity for me, please."

"When I'm having sex, I always seem to be thinking about it. As with everything else in my life, I approach it logically. My brain slowed when you were choking me, which forced me to stop thinking and trust you. I felt safe, desirable, and relaxed. That's what I liked about this afternoon."

Draco hesitated to put the proper words to what she described. What if she pulled back? What if this forced them further apart?

Or.

What if they had kept these parts of themselves separate when they would fit so perfectly together? He had been so good at this once, with women and men. Then again, he only had the sort of experience of a man in his early twenties. As a stronger, hardened man in his early thirties, perhaps it would be an even more fulfilling experience. Draco found it in himself to ask,

"Was it the submission?"

Hermione paused her page-turning for a moment and tilted her head to one side. She shrugged her good shoulder and confirmed,

"Yes."

Draco smiled over at her, though she wasn't looking up. Hermione placed the manuscript on the bed and crossed her legs. She picked at something under a fingernail and said,

"I never thought I'd like something in that regard. I always thought it improper to ask a man to do those things to me. Then when your hand was around my neck I didn't have to ask you to do those things. When I came, I felt like hot liquid moving between your hands. I remember thinking, 'This gorgeous man is holding me by the neck and cunt, and I can't stop shaking it's so good.' You were playing with my body because you wanted to see what it could do. What you saw was new to me, as well."

Draco asked, "Would you like to do it again?"

"Yes." Hermione answered so quickly she repeated, "Yes, I would."

"I was rather good at this," he said, "before my wife. She wasn't interested in this sort of sex because she didn't believe it was about love. She was right, of course, it's about control. Is that what you want?"

Hermione laid backward, flat on the bed, her curls spread out behind her in a frizzy mess. She said,

"I don't want to be controlled like I have no agency in the matter. I do have agency, and with you I'd never believe I don't. I suppose I enjoyed that you knew what my body could do better than I did. Better than I do at this moment. When you are in the driver's seat, as it were, it feels far easier to enjoy whatever it is we're doing."

"You want to be told what to do."

"In that situation? Yes."

"Good." Draco couldn't hide his grin as he repeated, "Good, because this is the only place where I think I can get away with telling you what to do."

Hermione confirmed, "You are correct about that."

"I will be better. I didn't realize this week was so terrible for you. This is my home, and I forgot that it's not yours." Draco frowned and said, "Troglodytic?"

"I was feeling magniloquent."

"Not unlike The Reverend Dr. John Trusler, it seems."

Hermione asked, "Are you coming to dinner tonight?"

"With you on my arm, golden girl."

.oOo.

Draco was at every dinner. He made most breakfasts, only made a single lunch, but he always managed to be finished with work by the time dinner was served. He would find Hermione, wherever she was, and walk to the dining room together. The first thing Scorpius should see at dinner was the two of them walking in, hand-in-hand. Hermione wore the watch Draco gave her every day, and he always smiled when he looked at it. A gift from a grateful father. Scorpius always hopped off his chair and ran to greet them with a hug, an excited father! maman! accompanying. For the first time in his son's life, Draco felt like he was truly part of this family.

The following Thursday, two days before Scorpius's birthday celebration in London, Draco had a gap between meetings, cancelled a call, and found himself with ninety minutes for Hermione. She wore a yellow sundress; its skirt swished around her legs any time she moved. Over the past week, Draco began to realize Hermione had collected dozens of things over the past seven years that she hoped to, one day, be able to wear with confidence. He was honoured that she was confident enough to wear them around him.

Their walk through the grounds was slow and easy, with Hermione animatedly discussing the books she'd read from the manor library. Draco listened, sometimes absorbing her words and using other moments simply to watch the way she spoke with her hands. Her gestures leaned to the left a bit, her right arm compensating for the lack of mobility in her left. It appeared second-nature, as though she had been talking like that for so long she no longer recognized she was doing it. Once they approached the large fountain where Draco hosted their terribly timed dinner party, he revealed,

"I've been considering what you said."

"Hmm?" asked Hermione. "What I said when?"

"About returning to school." Draco cleared his throat and awkwardly revealed, "The application deadline for Royal College of Arts is a month past, now. They told me to apply for the 2020 intake next year, which would give me time to find a proper home for us in London."

He noted Hermione's small smile when she confirmed,

"A home for us?"

"Scorpius could not live without his maman, and I could not live without my incredible, brilliant girlfriend." The fountain splashed as Draco admitted, "I started picturing it, you coming home to me late after an evening at BBC. Scorp's asleep, you come through the front door, before you know it we're upstairs trying to keep quiet as I get you out of one of those silly blouses with the buttons and the bow—"

"You've given it quite a lot of thought."

"Malfoy men are well known for more mundane things, shopping or socializing, but the men before my father also seemed to be focused on pursuits more like collecting objects and committing infidelity—"

"I don't picture you cheating on me. People have said many things about you over the years, but I've never heard anyone even whisper that you were unfaithful."

"It doesn't sit well with me. I understand some people taking lovers when their partners are no longer up for certain things. My mother and Penelope are their own example of sex outside a married partner. I also understand widows having multiple lovers. God knows I'd do desperate things to be in the middle of a Hermione Granger / Viktor Krum sandwich—"

"Don't tempt me," teased Hermione.

"When my great-great-grandson looks back on the Draco era of the Malfoy lineage, I want them to see something different." Draco admitted, "I want to set the example for my family that we value academics, particularly science."

Hermione stopped walking. Draco stopped a few paces ahead and turned to face her. She stared at the ground and placed her hands on her hips.

"Is this about what I said last week?"

"Obviously."

"I never meant for you to feel like an idiot." Hermione huffed, "I know you're not. I don't want you pursuing a degree you don't desire—"

"I do want it. I want to know whether it's possible to bring my ideas to life, but I cannot answer those questions on my own. I've been wrapped up in what I believed my father wanted me to be, Hermione. That's what this is. I wanted to make my father proud so I did it all. I married a proper woman, I have an incredible son, and our businesses are stronger than they have ever been. But I wasn't happy. You said my son's opinion is the only one that matters, yes?"

"Without question."

"Being a good father to him means, I think, having a home where he can come after school and see me. Perhaps Blaise and Dean Thomas come over for a family dinner. The Potters one night, even. Scorpius should have a place where he is close to me and close to his friends. It can be a secondary home, I do so much business in London anyway … It makes sense."

Hermione admitted, "I would like to be closer to my friends."

"In the meantime, I have begun to search for a Chief Operations Officer. In the hierarchy I am, technically, head of the operations department and CEO. A COO would lift off a lot of the day-to-day work, so I could focus on being a present father for my son and a present …" Draco trailed off. He settled on, "A present partner for you."

"You can say husband. That is where this leads, isn't it? Making me a permanent part of your family."

"I hardly feel right calling you my future wife when you have yet to refer to my son as yours."

Hermione grimaced.

"It's different. The first day we met, you spoke of Astoria as 'my wife.' I don't feel comfortable taking—"

"Hermione." Draco led her over to a bench, sat, and placed his hands on her hips. He liked having conversations like this, so they were face-to-face and she needn't worry about craning her neck upward. "When I met you, I wasn't living a life. I'm certain Astoria would be fine to be 'my first wife,' while you are 'my wife' in this life. Scorpius has chosen you to fill this role as much as I have, and my son is very much his mother. This is as close to Tori's blessing as I will receive."

Hermione considered that for a moment. She admitted,

"I hadn't thought of our situation like that. It feels a bit quick, and I worry Scorpius chose me only because I'm the first woman he's ever seen you with. If it were someone else—"

"Someone else like whom?" Draco took Hermione's hands in his and said, "I know no one who would have put themselves between my son and Graham the way you did. You hardly knew me, and I'd humiliated you, as you said. Yet you put yourself in harm's way for my son without question. I knew I fancied you the moment I met you. But I have loved you every day since you protected my son."

"I wish I could tell you why I don't feel like a mum." Hermione pulled her hands from Draco's grasp and crossed her arms. "I don't know. This still feels like a holiday to me, it doesn't feel like my life."

"Because you're not working. These weeks we have together are for us to figure this out, whether it's permanent. You and me together as a family. I fucked up last week, I know, and I learned from it. You're still learning, too. My mum is not the world's best example of motherhood," Draco shrugged, "but I think she has done a fair job. You needn't be perfect, Hermione. All you need to do is love my son like he's yours, because he wants to be yours."

Draco couldn't help but smile when Hermione leaned forward for a quick kiss. She pushed him further back on the bench and sat atop him, her knees on either side of his hips. Draco felt Hermione begin to twirl his hair between her fingers as she said,

"I suppose I could get used to it. You and me. Hermione and Draco. Maman and Dad." She grinned. "I quite like it." Hermione shifted her weight a bit and said, "D'you know what else I like?"

"I do," Draco pulled the skirt of Hermione's dress up and out from where it was smushed between them. He said, "We shouldn't do this outside."

"It's your house." Hermione pulled her dress close enough to expose Draco's trousers. She unbuttoned them and pulled down the zip. "We should do this wherever we like."

Draco shrugged off his jacket and raised his hips up enough to place it underneath him. He knew this was a bad idea, but they hadn't had sex in a week. He was desperate, and Hermione made a satisfied noise at the sudden change in angle. Draco wondered,

"What brought this on?"

"You said you're looking for a home for us. It feels like I'm part of a real family, and when I looked at my future, just now, I couldn't help but think it's going to make me happy. I haven't had that in a very long time."

She tugged on Draco's hair at the nape of his neck and he moaned far too loud for the space they were in. At least the grounds crew would know to stay away for awhile. He pulled Hermione close and kissed her as hard as he could, seeing his own future in much the same way she saw hers. He pushed his trousers and pants down to his knees, bum resting on his jacket. Hermione's breath was warm against his cheek when he asked,

"Are you good to pop off?"

Hermione nodded and whispered, "Mhmm."

Draco insisted, "I want a yes. We don't do this unless it's a yes."

"Yes."

"Good."

Hermione's full weight was pressed against him, her chest against his, her grip tight on the bench behind him. Draco had one arm around her waist and the other draped lazily over the arm of the bench. Hermione giggled and her smile was so soft. Everything about the moment was gentle, slow, and easy. Draco didn't even mind that his bum would have awkward dents from the slats in the bench. Back in March, if someone had told him he'd be shagging Hermione Granger on the bench in his garden, looking for a second home in London, and talking about marriage again … Draco would never have believed it. It was just like Hermione, though, to make the impossible a reality. Draco kissed her then said,

"Taking a note from my son, I believe I can say this is my best lunch break ever."

.oOo.

Holland Park was Scorpius's home away from home. His friends lived in London, he went to school in Holland Park, so Draco felt it appropriate to host his son's birthday party there. The first bit, at least. Holland House itself had fallen into disrepair, the east wing the only part which had been restored after it was bombed in 1940. An incredible Jacobean building, it was quite literally beginning to crumble. The window frames had begun to rot while the bricks were dingy and decaying in spots. No one in the park tended to linger and it would be easy to obscure the kids' faces in the shadows of the building.

By the time they arrived on July 26th, five child-sized easels had been set up with paint palettes and tiny water cups. A large tarp was spread out beneath them, cautious of the historically significant home. Albus Potter and Rose Weasley were there alongside their fathers. Katie Harper, whose parents were in their late forties, were uninterested in lingering around parents ten years their junior. Jamie Quirk was dropped off by his parents, who cast a very skeptical look at Hermione before they left, rounding out the list of Scorpius's birthday guests. Scorpius immediately noted all of this, and ran as quickly as he could to his favourite person—

"MISS LUNA!"

Scorpius nearly tackled Luna Lovegood he rushed into her so quickly. She laughed that breathy, airy, otherworldly giggle, and hugged him in return. She gestured to the easels and said,

"Do you want to learn how to paint today?"

"YES!" Scorpius was vibrating with excitement. "THIS IS MY BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!" He then rushed over to Albus and said, "This is the best birthday ever!" He gave each of his friends a quick hug then plopped onto the stool in the centre.

Each of the kids seemed inclined to paint. Draco supposed it was a recipe for chaos, but every six-year-old deserved a proper mess now and again. Luna handed out tiny aprons, wearing her own adult-sized version in bright orange. Her apron pockets overflowed with brushes, her earrings were shaped like radishes, and strands of white-blonde hair were falling out of her bun. She looked completely mad, and Scorpius was looking up at her like she could teach him to be the next Michaelangelo.

"Thank you," Draco whispered to Hermione, "for setting this up. I know you aren't fond of her, but Scorpius adores her work."

"Many people aren't fond of me," she replied, "but I do my job well. Luna does excellent work, and I would never deprive your son of learning something he genuinely likes to do."

Draco stared down at the grey bricks beneath his feet. He wondered how much longer it would take before Hermione began to say our son. Scorpius had chosen her, named her maman. He recognized it wasn't the traditional family setup she might've hoped for in life, but they needed her. Perhaps, in some ways, she needed them, too. Draco nodded toward Potter and Weasley.

"Your friends are waiting for you."

Hermione sped ahead, and Draco slowly made his way behind her. The kids were loud and raucous, as any child would be when making art. Right as the kids began to paint, Blaise stepped up so he and Draco were shoulder-to-shoulder. He leaned in and whispered,

"Can we talk?"

"Privately?"

Blaise nodded. He turned to leave the room and Draco followed, concerned and curious. Draco followed Blaise around the building toward the trees, their conversation obscured by both the wall and the park's din of constant chatter. Blaise's hands were stuffed into his trouser pockets, and he looked like he might be ill. Draco asked,

"Are you alright?"

"I must tell you something in confidence."

Draco frowned and insisted, "Anything. You know that."

Blaise shrugged his shoulders and looked off into the distance, unable to meet Draco's gaze. He said,

"A week ago, I went to meet Dean's family."

"Yes!" Draco clapped Blaise on the shoulder and asked, "How did that go? You never said, and I was a bit wrapped up in Hermione and work," he conceded, "mostly work. Which I'm beginning to see is what you've all been saying for exactly five years and three-hundred days."

"Dismal." Blaise revealed, "They'd looked me up on the internet—"

"Oh."

"—and none of them were ready to see Dean move on from his ex-husband. His eldest sister told me there is nothing I could do to earn her approval because she thinks I view Dean as lowering my standards for someone who won't leave."

Draco scoffed, "He kissed you once and it was so good you fell on the floor afterward."

"Which is what I tried to say, but there was no satisfying her. She landed a devastating blow to one of my insecurities and I could not recover. I know vanity is my weakness, but knowing as much and overcoming it are two separate things. I left without saying goodbye to Dean and flew straight home to Modena. On Sunday, I went to church."

"Really?" Draco didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand, Blaise going to church meant he had healed from the wound Draco carved into him three years earlier. But if Blaise was desperate enough to attend Mass, something had gone terribly wrong. He asked, "Did it feel right to you?"

"Very right. My mind and my heart were misaligned, and I realized why. I was home, in Modena, but it no longer felt like home to me. I had placed all my priority on Dean and impressing his family, when my true priority should always be my godson. Always. Mass forced me to recognize my purpose and understand London is my home now."

Draco's entire body relaxed. This tension between them had simmered for months, ever since Blaise admitted he intended to sell his home in Holland Park and return to Modena full-time. If things went wrong with Dean's family, that made it more difficult for Blaise to find a reason to stay … Unless Scorpius was the priority. Blaise was staying in England, and it was as though something melted between them. Blaise appeared to be holding back tears when he said,

"I returned home from Mass and Dean was there in the snug. He'd travelled via train to Milan then rented a car and drove two hours to Modena. He came after me because he intended to ask me to marry him." Blaise pulled his left hand from his pocket to reveal a sparkling engagement ring. "I said yes."

Twenty-six years crashed into Draco's mind all at once. Eight-year-old Blaise whispering to him at lunch in broken English. Fifteen-year-old Blaise sprinkling holy water on the manor steps to "cleanse and protect." Twenty-two-year-old Blaise sobbing at his mother's funeral, slowly sinking into the realization he had become one of the wealthiest men in the world. Twenty-three-year-old Blaise asking Draco to be his boyfriend. Twenty-four-year-old Blaise gently telling him their relationship had run its course. Twenty-eight-year-old Blaise Zabini holding a newborn Scorpius Malfoy in his arms. Thirty-one-year-old Blaise Zabini reading The Scarlet Steam Engine to Scorpius, not knowing the author would one day be his fiancé.

"Oh my God." Draco grabbed Blaise's hand and looked at the ring with a smile on his face. "Oh my God!" He pulled Blaise into a tight hug and couldn't imagine ever letting go. "You have waited so long. This is great fucking news, and Scorpius—"

"We've decided not to tell anyone." Blaise had fisted the back of Draco's shirt between his fingers. "I will tell Scorpius this evening, but we want to give Dean's family another chance before things are known. Dean told Ginny, but otherwise no one knows. And the only reason I'm telling you is because you're my deepest friend, I love you, and I am fucking terrified."

Draco shook his head and placed one hand on the nape of Blaise's neck to hold him close.

"How could you be afraid of anything when it comes to this man?"

"Because—" Blaise sobbed. "I don't know how to be this happy. I've never been this happy in my life. I didn't know I was allowed to be."

"You earned this. All these years you have been nothing but supportive, grounding, and the bloody glue keeping me and my son together. The Malfoy line would be dead without you, and I know my father would kill me for saying it, but you are just as much part of my family as I am."

"I only said yes because I know Dean will be good for your son—"

"Our son. The traditional family route of one father and one mother died with Tori." Draco added, "It died when my father kicked me out, really. Scorp is a Malfoy, Zabini, Queensbury-Patil, whatever he chooses to be. And there is no one who would fit better into the slate of men surrounding my son than the man you've chosen."

"I know it's sudden—"

"Stop it. Stop justifying it to me, there is no need." Draco pulled back just far enough to look Blaise in the eyes and say, "I love you so much, in more ways than I knew I could ever love a person. I also loved my wife, and I lost her without warning. I would've burned the manor to the ground just to be her husband another day. One more day, Blaise. Don't you ever apologize to me for deciding to be with someone you love. Two months, two weeks, two fucking hours into this we all knew you were meant to be."

"You're right." Blaise nodded and repeated, "You're so right, and that's why I'm telling you now. I want you to be the best man at my wedding."

"I would be devastated if you chose anyone else." Draco laughed and gripped the front of Blaise's shirt. "You did it for me and I do it for you, that's what this is. Now," he teased, "clean yourself up and let's get back to this party."

Blaise nodded and said, "After all these years, you finally are the one to tell me to clean myself up."

"Many, many years I have waited to do that," teased Draco. "Dean Thomas picked out a nice ring, too. Simple, signet style, properly masculine … What's that diamond, one carat?"

"Yes."

"It's perfect for you. He is perfect for you."

Blaise took a deep breath then led Draco back to the area where the kids were listening intently to Luna Lovegood explain how to paint a proper picture. They stood with the other adults and Potter muttered,

"This is mad. It's like six-year-olds getting a lesson in landscapes from Monet."

It was completely mad. The adults milled about, chatted a bit, and Draco pretended not to be jealous of the way Hermione was so at ease around Ron Weasley. He could touch her arm. He could make her laugh. He could make jokes about their childhood Draco would never be privy to. Beneath all the acceptance and the friendship, Ron Weasley still harbored affection for Hermione. Draco knew Weasley wasn't the sort to commit infidelity, but that didn't make it easier to watch. Perhaps Hermione knew he still cared for her in that way, perhaps she didn't, but Weasley had seen her through the worst parts of recovery. Draco would never take that relationship away from her because, no matter how irritating, Weasley had earned the right to be in Hermione's life if she wanted him there.

Draco didn't talk much. He stood back and watched his son squint at the paper on his easel. Scorpius wanted to learn, and it was wonderful to see him do something he loved around his friends. For so many years, Draco had been absent from these moments. Perhaps this was how it felt to be a proper father. His heart was full, looking at Hermione with her friends and Scorpius with his. Draco smiled to himself; his family was beginning to heal.

.oOo.

The reception for Scorp's birthday was at Blaise's house. Not too large nor too small, with plenty of space for the kids to run around and play. There were more adults at this part of the party, no one with enough willpower to deny a late-afternoon lunch cooked from scratch by Blaise Zabini. The worst bit was the Diggory-sized absence at Parvati's side. She looked so alone and sad, but Draco knew better than to press her on it. The expanded guest list also included Bastien and Padma, Theo and Tracey, Ginny, Draco's mother, Bastien's father, and Ron Weasley's wife. Hermione squeezed Draco's hand so tight his fingers started to turn purple. He whispered,

"You knew she would be here."

"Doesn't make it easier."

Scorpius took his friends around to meet everyone, like a tiny tour guide spouting off all the bits of information he found pertinent to each guest. Hermione made her way over to Ron Weasley the moment his wife sat at the dining room table with food. Draco sidled over to her, thinking she was fairly unremarkable. Her clothes were fine, she was neither beautiful nor hideous, she was just … There. He sat next to her and asked,

"How do you do it?"

"Hmm?" She guessed, "How do I watch the two of them together?"

Draco nodded.

"You're dating Hermione now, yes?"

"I am."

"The trick is knowing they're always going to love each other. For me, when I see them together, I remember that Ron left her. He wanted something better for himself, and I am something better. I don't think he loves me more, I actually think he loves her more than he does me. But they're friends of twenty years while I've been his wife for six." She shrugged. "He's married to me, has kids with me, he chose me. Why would I feel bad about that?"

"Why is Hermione so skittish around you?" asked Draco. "When she mentions you in passing, she says you're nice. Never says anything bad."

"When Ron mentions you in passing it's usually preceded by either 'that git' or 'that fucking bastard.'" She laughed. "Hermione doesn't like me because I've gotten the life she gave up. Which I've never understood, she wasn't meant for it."

Draco picked up a water glass and "I know."

"It's never easy watching them. I know it's not the answer you want, but they'll always be like that with each other."

Before taking a sip, Draco conceded, "I suppose there's a universe when they end up together."

"Not this one, though." Weasley's wife ate a forkful of food and said, "This is the most delicious plate I've ever had, and I don't know if it's because Zabini is a great chef or I'm pregnant and it always feels like I'm starving."

Draco choked and spat water back into his glass. He coughed and sputtered,

"Let's not mention that bit of information."

"Why not? You and her are happy together, right?"

"Yes."

"Then maybe it's time Hermione stops blaming Ron for leaving, and accept that he gets to have the family he wants while she gets to have the career she wants."

Draco confirmed, "You'll get no argument from me on that."

"Good." She added, "You're nicer than I thought you'd be."

"I get that often."

"Emma. My name's Emma."

"Emma, then." He offered his hand and said, "Draco Malfoy."

"I know, but I appreciate you saying it." She shook his hand and said, "Your son is delightful. Rose adores him."

"Thank you."

Draco meandered about for a bit after that, poked his head outside to see his mother and Bastien's father in conversation. His mum was smiling bigger than she ever had in the years since his father died. Mr. Queensbury was laughing at something, completely relaxed—with his hand in the far back pocket of Narcissa's trousers? That was more than flirting. God, they could at least take that obscenity behind a shrub. Draco gagged just before someone placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Blaise with a look of concern on his face. Thank God someone else was taking this seriously. Draco blurted out,

"I think Bas's dad is fucking my mum."

Blaise's expression conveyed two things: "obviously" and "that is not what I am here to discuss."

"Dean's upstairs with Scorpius to discuss what I told you earlier."

"Let's eavesdrop." Draco shook his head and said, "Anything to get away from that."

A moment later, they were tiptoeing upstairs to Blaise's bedroom, careful not to make any noise louder than the din of the party downstairs. Draco and Blaise pressed their ears to the door, hoping to hear Scorpius's approval. Dean Thomas began by saying,

"I wish to speak with you about something quite serious."

"Okay," said Scorpius. His voice was rather small and curious, not much like him at all.

"I want to ask your Uncle Blaise to marry me, but only if that is something you want, too."

Draco thought that was interesting, positing it like Scorpius could say no. As though this was entirely his decision to make. If Scorp did say no, Blaise would return the engagement ring to Dean without question, heartbreaking for everyone involved. There was a long pause before Scorpius said,

"I have questions."

Dean Thomas said, "I would love to answer them."

"My father is my dad. My Uncle Blaise is like my dad. If you marry my Uncle Blaise, you're my third dad. But I dunno what a dad's supposed to do. Do you know what a dad's supposed to do?"

"No, I don't." Dean revealed, "My father died when I was too little to remember him."

"Oh." Scorpius's voice was very soft when he said, "My mum died when I was little, too."

"I think about my dad a lot. I have so many questions about him. I'm far older now than he ever got to be, which makes me quite sad. I teach maths, and I wonder, was my dad good at maths? Did he like maths? I'll never know, so all I have are questions with no answers. Then I start wondering, would he like Blaise?"

"Yes."

"Oh?"

"Ev'rybody likes Uncle Blaise. He cooks good food and ev'rybody likes good food. I like when he makes biscuits in silly shapes. Sometimes he lays in the grass at night and looks up at the stars. He always lets me watch Mary Poppins on telly. We've seen it a lot of times and he always sings along. Sometimes he lays in the grass in the morning and makes funny shapes in the clouds. He always says goodnight and has good hugs. Ev'rybody likes people with good hugs."

Draco placed his hand on Blaise's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Blaise nodded to himself, only having realized Scorpius remembered the littlest things most. Draco felt incredibly fortunate to have him watching over his son. If those were the things Scorpius remembered, then Blaise had done a better job than Draco could have asked of him. Better than Astoria could have asked of him.

"He does give good hugs," Dean agreed. "Even when we're sitting next to each other, I always try to have my arm around him because he makes me so happy."

"What do you think of Lucky Charms?"

Draco could almost see Dean Thomas's brow furrow in confusion. This was the most obvious question Scorpius could be expected to ask, really. Dean confirmed,

"The cereal?"

A brief pause, in which Draco assumed his son nodded affirmatively.

"Well," said Dean, "I quite like them. I'm rather fond of marshmallows."

"Okay." Scorpius was quiet for a long moment, then said, "I need to talk to my Uncle Blaise."

Draco and Blaise looked at each other, then scurried downstairs. They hustled back to the dining room table and plopped into their seats just as Dean and Scorpius stepped off the stairs. Scorpius jumped up and down, looking at Blaise and waving him over. Blaise stood up from the table without a word, and switched places with his boyfr—partn—fiancé.

"That did not go where I thought it would," Dean said as he plopped into the chair. "I think it went well, but I can't be certain."

Draco said, "I'm sure it did."

Blaise came down five minutes later. Scorpius rushed over toward his friends, and Blaise sat down with a massive grin. Dean playfully kicked him under the table and asked,

"How did it go?"

"He wished to know the colour of the flowers we plan to put in his basket at our wedding."