Colin's funeral was set up perfectly.

Draco couldn't remember the last time everything went to plan. Someone always fucked up somewhere, and yet … As though the universe itself knew Colin Creevey deserved a flawless goodbye, everything arrived on time. After signing the "guestbook," Hermione tugged at the sling around her arm. Draco hovered at her side, knowing how close she was to the darkness.

He hugged Bastien and Padma when they arrived. Shortly after, Cedric Diggory showed up with Parvati. He looked awful, like he hadn't slept much in days. Draco shook his hand and said,

"You'll be speaking last, after Dennis and Hermione. Thank you for doing this."

"Thank you for planning it." Diggory dropped Draco's hand and added, "I couldn't've thought of anything better. Truly, this is what I needed. What we all need."

Draco nodded. Parvati patted Diggory on the arm and said,

"Go to your seat, and I'll be right behind you."

He left without another word. Parvati watched him move through the chairs then turned to Draco.

"He's unsettled by this. It's been a thousand small cuts for him. He leads their team, and they've lost their most beloved player." She shook her head. "I watched him struggle through this speech."

Draco conceded, "It hurts."

She hugged Hermione, but it was as though Hermione couldn't see Parvati at all. She was still, didn't move to embrace her close friend, and her eyes were unfocused. Parvati stepped back and shook her head.

"I don't know what to do."

Draco admitted, "Neither do I." He shrugged. "This week, my job was Colin. Next week, and all the weeks after, it's Hermione."

Parvati said, "I trust you with her."

Then she was off and his least-favourite person in Hermione's life arrived. Draco shook hands with Ron Weasley, cordially, though there was something that still turned Draco's stomach about him. If he truly thought about it, he'd realize that Ron Weasley got to love Hermione before she was the well-respected journalist. Weasley got to see all that enthusiasm and ambition bubble up inside her until it overflowed. Draco would never see that part of her, which is why he never truly thought about it. He shook hands with Potter and Dean Thomas, the three of whom arrived together. Weasley shook hands with Bastien before placing his hand on the lower seam of Hermione's sling.

"I'm sorry you've got to be in one of these again."

Hermione replied, "Me, too."

"HERMIONE!"

That voice was loud and heavily accented. Draco looked up and his soul floated outside his body for a second.

"Bloody hell that's … That's Viktor Krum."

Weasley said, "I fucking hate that guy."

Hermione seemed to come back to herself at that moment. She nudged Weasley with her good elbow and said, "Be nice."

"I'm not going to be nice," spat Weasley, "I don't like the way he touches you."

"Then you shouldn't have divorced me,darling," Hermione snapped.

Draco would've been impressed by the insult, except his brain seemed to have slowed to a near-stop. That was Viktor Krum. Viktor Krum. He used to be on the posters in Draco's room at school. Draco had wanked to thoughts of Viktor Krum for years. There he was, planting a kiss on Draco's girlfriend.

He didn't hate that.

No, he didn't hate that at all.

Krum said something, looking like a paragon of male athleticism. He was just a bit shorter than Draco, well-defined, but softer around the edges than he would've been at the peak of his career. Krum gripped Potter's forearm like they'd been through war together. He shook Dean's hand, and barely managed a glance at Hermione's ex-husband. Well, on that they could agree.

"You are caring for Hermione now?"

It took Draco a full second to realize Viktor Krum was talking to him. Viktor Krum was talking to him. Draco looked down at his hand, knowing he should accept the handshake, but Viktor Krum. Hermione leaned over to him and whispered something, and Krum's gaze softened. His smile widened. He latched his hand onto Draco's shoulder and the way his fingers wrapped around was more than cordial. Draco's insides melted.

"I am always happy to be in the thoughts of beautiful women. And now, I am happy to be in the thoughts of a beautiful man."

Draco squeaked out, "Thank you." Beautiful. Viktor Krum thinks I'm a beautiful man. Am I in love with my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend? I think I might be in love with my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. Viktor Krum touched me. Holy shit, Viktor Krum is still there, this isn't a dream.

Viktor turned to Hermione and placed his hands on her waist.

"You are strong. This hurts, but you will get through this. I promise. You know I keep my promises. I will sit at the back; I do not want to be a distraction. This Colin deserves a good goodbye."

Hermione confirmed, "He does."

Krum walked away, and nobody seemed to know what to say.

Weasley insisted, "I still don't like the way he touches you. He's not your boyfriend, he shouldn't be doing that."

"I don't think my boyfriend minds," replied Hermione. "Do you?"

"That's Viktor Krum." Draco bent forward and placed his hands on his knees and finally verbalized, "That's Viktor bloody Krum.Fuck.Viktor Krum called me a beautiful man. Dear God, I may have a heart attack, bloody hell."

"I think Draco is fine with Viktor touching me the way Viktor chooses to touch me." Hermione said, "I'm going to sit and wait for this to begin."

Draco couldn't even watch her walk away. He was staring at the ground trying to get his head out of the clouds. This was Colin's day of remembrance. Not a day for being a fanboy. Potter wondered,

"Is Draco okay with Viktor snogging his girlfriend?"

"I …" Draco let out a shaky breath before standing up to his full height. "I told Hermione once I would do terrible things to be the meat in a Hermione/Krum sandwich. That's been quite confirmed."

"He's a good bloke. And now that his English is actually discernible, it's quite nice talking to him. He's helped me through some of the recovery—"

"Right, right," snapped Weasley, "we get it. Krum's amazing. Bloody brilliant or whatever, can't go anywhere without seeing that fucking tosser. Let's just … sit." He stormed off, with Dean and Potter close behind.

Bastien sidled closer and asked, "Was that a straight touch or a curious one?"

"Curious."

"Interesting."

A large crowd of people, two buses full, made their way into the garden then. Draco's heart sank all the way to the ground. So many of them were familiar from days long since passed. He went down on that bloke there, with the neck tattoos. That man next to him looked perfectly corporate, except ten years earlier when he'd stuck his tongue up Draco's arse. Two men back, the man with the tongue piercing had gone down on Draco in the club bathroom while the bloke next to him watched.

When Colin mentioned he bartended at a gay club, he meant the Silver Snitch. Draco always felt safe there, in a way the other clubs couldn't provide. The people were always gracious about rejection. Draco never worried he'd piss someone off by saying, "Maybe not stuff your hand down my trousers tonight." Unfortunately, he had a lot of baggage attending this ceremony. Draco sighed and told Bastien,

"I don't know how to tell Hermione I've had sex with half these people." Draco admitted, "I played into all the stereotypes and I feel Hermione's paying the price for it in a moment that shouldn't be about me."

"I don't think she cares." Bastien shrugged. "I don't think she's here right now, to be honest. She looked dead behind the eyes."

Poor choice of words, but Draco didn't call him on it. Bastien added,

"I don't know how to tell Padma I've fucked some of these people."

"The truth."

"Hmm?"

"They had tits when you fucked them."

Bastien grimaced and said, "I don't think that's going to make the situation better. She knows I partied; I don't think she knows I partied quite that hard."

"I don't think there's anything that could pull you two apart."

"Ungh." Bastien conceded, "We almost had it out after your son's birthday. Turns out we both want to take our lives in a new direction."

"Come again?"

"I had my vasectomy reversed ten days ago." Bastien made a pained face. "Hurt like hell. I told Padma, look, babe, I never wanted to be a dad because I thought I'd be thinking with my cock for the rest of my life. Fucking beautiful women sunup to sundown whenever the hell I felt like it. Now my boxing career's coming to an end, I've got a steady job at Allchin's, and my dad's getting older. I said, babe, I want to be a father. If it's something you want, we can do this together. Turns out Padma wants a kid, too." Bastien shrugged. "Funny what you figure out when you talk to your spouse, innit?"

Draco clapped him on the shoulder and said, "I'm happy for you. You'll be great at it."

"Won't happen for awhile; doc said it should be at least three months before I can get her pregnant, what with my sperm bridges needing to embrace the repair. I'm excited about it, though."

"It's something I wish I'd been more excited about early on in Scorp's life." Draco admitted, "I have all these photographs of him with Blaise at these important moments. The christening, his birthdays, Christmases … I wasn't there and I wish I had been."

"You're here now, and I think that's what counts. That you found your way back to him." Bastien nodded toward Hermione and asked, "When's Scorp getting a sibling?"

"Hermione doesn't—"

"Bullshit."

"I don't—"

"More bullshit." Bastien huffed, "You know you want another son. You want a chance to do it right from the beginning. You want a kid that Blaise doesn't have claim to—"

"I am happy that Blaise is here for my son when I can't be."

"And I'm not saying otherwise. I know you and I know your father's voice is in your head saying, 'My son is pathetic because he needed another man to raise his child.'"

Draco insisted, "The voice isn't wrong."

"I think it is, but my opinion clearly doesn't matter."

"It does matter to me." Draco admitted, "I would like another child. If the decision was nothing more than do I want two sons or one? Of course I'd like another son. Problem is that what happened to Tori shouldn't've happened. She was twenty-five, Bas. Twenty-five! With all my money, all my love … It wasn't enough. Now I've got a partner with a body that's been through hell and back and it doesn't matter how much money I have or how much love I give her …" Draco shook his head. "I can't guarantee that's enough to get her through it."

"Granger's been blown up, I think if she's going to die it'll take more than your dick to do it."

Draco deadpanned, "Comforting."

"Look." Bastien placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and jolted him a bit. "Padma's a boss bitch and I love her, but she's not Hermione Granger. You've managed to get a literal legend to fall in love with you, and she's losing herself. Ced told me that she doesn't plan to return to BBC, or to journalism at all. She is in no fit state to be making these decisions. I hate to say it, mate, but that woman is about to crack open and fall to pieces. When people like her go low, it's not cocaine and alcohol and totaling the Rolls Royce."

"What are you saying?"

"Ced knows things about the explosion. Things he shouldn't know. That reporter from Le Monde wasn't just standing in front of her, he stepped in front of her. She's cost two men their lives, she's covered war with more humanity than anyone in our world, meaning your girl is friends with Death. Hermione is your responsibility now and she isn't afraid of anything. You have to take responsibility for her actions."

"I'm not understanding."

Bastien shook him again, firmly by the shoulder, and said, "I'm saying you hide the scissors."

"Draco!"

Another voice came through Draco's ears. Another arm around his shoulders, one kiss on the cheek, a second kiss on the other, and none of it mattered. He smiled politely at whomever the hell this was. A man who touched Draco like someone who had touched him before. They all ran together. None of them mattered. Hermione was low, but she wouldn't … She couldn't …

She could, if the darkness lingered long enough. Draco could come out of the grief, get his head just above water for long enough to breathe. If left alone, Hermione could only drown in it.

Bastien and Draco wound up doing the handshaking, as though it was their friend they were about to plant in the ground. Draco paid them little mind, thoughts wandering toward Viktor Krum's touch, toward his girlfriend's sprint toward an emotional breakdown, and how terrible it would be for Parvati to see her twin carry a pregnancy to term while it was something she wanted so desperately. Not that he'd mention it to Bastien. Then again, perhaps Parvati and Diggory weren't as far apart as they'd believed themselves to be.

That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? Everyone in his circle had relationships that were getting closer. Bastien and Padma were planning to have a child. Blaise was engaged to his soulmate. Theo and Tracey were close to having a child-free home for the first time in their adult lives. Hell, even his mother was embracing a new version of her relationship to Mr. Queensbury. Draco was the only one to keep allowing his partner to slip through his fingers.

Then again, how do you hold onto a legend? Weasley couldn't. Krum wouldn't. The two men who kept Hermione on that path were dead. Her parents lived half the world away. Hiding the scissors might not be enough.

Dennis Creevey seemed to be taking this rather well. He'd been distant from Colin for years, and once he got past the initial grief, he'd taken this as an opportunity to reacquaint himself with his brother. A rather mature take on the situation, from Draco's point of view. He watched Hermione through her speech, even gave a bit of an addendum when she mentioned their makeout session in the back of the BMW. He touched Hermione the moment she sat down and didn't stop touching her until it was his time to stand.

Diggory's speech got to him. When Astoria died, it was all the big things that stopped. When his father died, though, it was the little things. The smaller moments when he wanted his father to look over a business document but wasn't there to read it. When Draco found the first truly white hair on his head and needed to ask his father how long he would keep his blond. When Diggory mentioned the smaller moments, the ache of the silence outside the window … Draco felt himself crying. It came out of nowhere.

He watched as the first people began planting their flowers in the garden. It was somber, but nice. Something about knowing there would be life from this loss made it more palatable. Viktor Krum planted a flower with a melancholy look on his face. Draco didn't understand the correlation, but he clearly knew Colin and felt some sort of way about his passing. He stood off to the side of the garden when he was done, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione.

The procession went fairly quick, only about fifteen minutes before the first three rows were called up. Bastien said goodbye to Padma and stood next to Viktor Krum on the edge of the garden. Dean, Potter, and Weasley followed. Draco planted a flower in the garden when it was his turn, and Hermione did not follow. He placed his hand on the ground and thought, You were a good man. One of the best. Be at peace knowing you did everything right when it mattered most.

Then he joined the small group of men waiting for Hermione to move. She didn't. Diggory got up to plant his flower and joined the rest of them. They waited for everyone to leave, but Hermione remained in the chair. Draco wasn't convinced she knew any time had passed. Krum wondered,

"What is wrong with her?"

Draco answered, "She is about to feel the pain. Grief comes at you slowly, then all at once—"

Hermione fell forward onto her knees and let out a cry of desperation. Draco watched her brace herself with her right arm and half-sobbed, half-screamed, completely overwhelmed. Everyone seemed to take a step forward at once, but Weasley put his arm out and said,

"No." He shook his head. "She needs him."

It took Draco a moment before he realized Weasley meant him. Draco was surprised and grateful to be recognized as Hermione's partner in such a meaningful way, but all he could say was,

"She needs a minute to feel this. It—" Draco paused, cut off by Hermione's scream. He could hear the sound bouncing against the back of her throat, echoing like a chainsaw against a tree. He grimaced and said, "I've been here, and it only gets worse if you put it off."

So they stood there until Hermione screamed herself into silence. She leaned so far forward that her forehead was nearly on the grass. Her sobs were short, aborted breaths. She pulled the sling off her arm and tossed it away, and that was when Draco knew the grief had settled. Her arm didn't matter anymore, not to her. He told Bastien,

"Go to our room and hide the scissors."

Draco rushed over to Hermione and made to hold her, but she pushed him away. He sat on the ground and wrapped his arms around her. He situated himself with his legs around hers, trying to shield Hermione from the world. Hermione half-sobbed, half-screamed into Draco's shoulder. He held her close and encouraged her to,

"Let it out."

Draco shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Hermione's shoulders. She kept repeating the same thing: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She had nothing to apologise for. Colin Creevey made his own choices. Everyone around her made their own choices, and that choice always seemed to be to protect her. It was no use telling her as much; she wouldn't understand. Draco remembered all the months and months of everyone around him saying, "You didn't kill your wife." But he did. In his mind, it was his fault Astoria was dead. Only all these years later could he understand that wasn't quite the case.

She settled into his chest and closed her eyes. By Draco's watch, it was twenty minutes they sat on the ground before Hermione had cried all her tears. He felt her breathing fall into a steady rhythm and knew it was time to press on. Draco gently ran his hand up and down her arm.

"You said every moment we have is a gift from Colin?"

"Mhmm."

"Then I think you owe it to him to plant that final flower in his garden, golden girl. Let me know when you're ready to do that."

Hermione sniffled and pushed herself up with her right hand. She let Draco's blazer fall to the ground and grabbed the trowel from her chair. Hermione took the final flower from the box, dug the hole in the centre of the garden, and placed the flower. She delicately patted the dirt around it before standing upright. Hermione walked over to where Draco was still sitting, arse on the ground, and tossed the trowel at his feet.

"I'm going to bed. Don't follow me."

.oOo.

The reception was agony. Draco knew Hermione was angry, but why at him? He did his best to take the responsibility of conversation off Dennis Creevey and his wife. Bastien was busy dodging people from his past. Potter and Weasley were mingling. Viktor Krum was politely declining his twenty-seventh selfie request.

By the time everyone left, Draco was exhausted. He found Hermione asleep in their bed. He changed into his pyjamas and nestled into bed next to her. Draco made to place his arm around her waist, but she rolled away from him even in sleep. Why is she so angry at me?

The next morning, Draco woke to an empty bed. He showered, dressed, and went down to the dining room to find his son sitting alone.

"Où est ta maman?"

Through a mouthful of cereal, Scorpius managed, "Maman est dans la cuisine."

Draco went to the kitchen only to find Chef, who raised his hands and said,

"I'm not meant to get between whatever is happening here. Breakfast is finished, it's on the table. I am leaving so you can resolve whatever this is."

Draco frowned and asked, "What's happened?"

"Ms. Granger has gone for the golf cart, but she looked rather unwell. That is all I know."

Draco rushed out the door, down the steps, and over toward the tiny carport where they stored the golf cart. Hermione was there, searching for the keys. He shouted,

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm not going to London today." She huffed, "I'm going to sit and look at Colin's garden until I feel less like I'd be happy to join him."

Draco was nearly there when he said, "You are going with me and Scorpius to London. There is no negotiation. Oliver said you need to be at his office daily, so that's where you will be."

"You don't run my life."

"Right now, yes I do."

Hermione brushed past Draco and said, "I'll walk, then."

Draco grabbed her by the middle and lifted her over his shoulder, then made for the steps. Thank God he'd chosen to wear trainers. Hermione squirmed, desperate to escape his grasp and run toward whatever self-blame she was reaching for. Draco carried her up to the manor as she pounded against his back.

"LET ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN, DRACO MALFOY OR I SWEAR I WILL STUFF MY FIST SO FAR UP YOUR ARSE—"

Draco opened the door to the kitchen and said, "If you want to shove your fist up my arse, Hermione, all you have to do is ask. My thighs are wide open." He placed Hermione on the floor and said, "The insults that work on your straight boyfriends won't always work on me, I expected you'd have worked that out by now."

Hermione pulled off one of her trainers and threw it at him. Draco lurched out of the way and watched it bounce off the far wall.

"I don't want to go to London!"

"What you want and what you need are two separate things, then."

"Maman? Father?" a tiny voice asked from the doorway.

It would've been comical, the way Draco and Hermione turned simultaneously toward Scorpius, were they not moments from ripping each other apart. Scorpius had never seen his parents fight before. Draco and Blaise never argued over Scorpius because Draco was hardly around to fight with. Hermione had been his mum two weeks and they were already at a breaking point. Scorpius did not need to watch the stress of the past week boil over.

"Scorpius Draco Malfoy, you will go to your room now."

"Father!"

"Je t'ai demandé d'aller dans ta chambre."

"But maman—"

"Arrête tes caprices! Hermione and I are angry, but neither of us wishes to be angry at you. Do you want to be angry?"

Draco saw himself reflected in those wide grey eyes when Scorpius shook his head to signal No, father, I don't wish to be angry. Draco crossed his arms and said,

"Sometimes, mums and dads have problems that aren't about you. We love you, and that is why we do not wish for you to be here right now. Do you understand?"

Scorpius shook his head again.

"Okay. I'm going to raise my voice at Hermione, do you wish to hear that?"

Scorpius shook his head, no.

"Hermione will yell back at me, do you wish to hear that?"

Scorpius shook his head, no.

"Tu ferais mieux d'aller dans ta chambre."

He walked right by Draco and hugged Hermione. She knelt to be at his height and hugged him properly before kissing his cheek.

"Listen to your father, baby blond."

"Will you still love him if I'm not here?"

That hurt. Draco looked away, angry his son seemed to see Hermione's love for Draco as something he needed to protect. What had either of them done to make him believe such a thing?

"I love him more than I can say." She gently brushed Scorpius's hair off his face. "But we need to talk about things you won't understand. I promise, whatever happens, we will explain it to you later. This isn't about secrets, it's about love. We don't hide from love, do you understand?"

And, finally, Scorpius nodded affirmatively. On his walk back to the dining room, he hugged Draco around the leg before going through the dining room and closing the door behind him. They listened for the telltale sound of the other door closing, then yet another several seconds as he traveled up to his room. Draco finally sputtered out,

"How does that boy have five parents and I am the one he likes the least?"

"Because you are the one he loves most," replied Hermione.

"And what of you, then? What have I done to deserve this … this anger? You fell apart in my arms yesterday and it seems like you resent me for it."

"I don't—no, I don't resent you for caring for me."

"I was caring for you, and I would like to continue to do so but you refuse to let me. You rolled away from me in our bed. You run away from me now so that I must carry you here against your will. I do not understand what I've done wrong."

"It's not anger at you, Draco, I'm angry at the world for keeping me here!" Hermione pulled off her other trainer and threw it at the wall. They watched it bounce off and land atop the first. "I was happy! The moment I got divorce papers, I knew, I knew I would never have a family of my own. I'd never have another husband, a child, I lost that one chance at it. Then you showed me I hadn't. You gave me a partner, a son, and nearly a house …" Hermione pulled off her socks and tossed them, one then the other, at the wall. "And I was happy!"

"You still have those things, Hermione." Draco asked, "Am I not here? Is Scorpius not our son?"

"I just can't handle it anymore. Losing thing after thing, drowning in this despair, knowing I'm alive only at the expense of other people. Then you and your friends didn't think I'd notice you took away anything sharp from our room yesterday. You did everything but staple the linens to the mattress. I don't understand why—"

"BECAUSE IT'S NOT JUST YOU!" Draco screamed, "It's not just you, Hermione! It's me! I love you. I LOVE YOU! And you're sitting around thinking about dying like that doesn't matter at all. Like it won't kill me to lose you."

Hermione's voice was soft when she asked, "What if I'm already gone?"

"What?"

"I don't feel like myself. I can't understand who I am. Every time my life seems to be getting better, I lose something precious. The only things precious I have left are you and our son. I would rather die than see either of you hurt."

"You're a liar." Draco spat, "You're a bloody liar, Hermione. Someday, I'm going to marry you and everybody will be looking at us thinking, 'Damn, what a lucky bloke he is. How easy it must be for him to love such an incredible woman.' When the truth is it's exhausting. My whole body aches for you now, Hermione. If you die, I will be right behind you. I don't care if it is in this life, or the next, or the one after that, or the one after that. I will find you, I will marry you, and I will care for you. My love will follow you wherever you go. Don't think Death will absolve you of this. I came through the grief of losing my wife so I expect you to get through this!"

Hermione shook her head and turned toward the door.

"Don't turn your back to me, Hermione! We are partners!"

"Why?!" She whipped around and screamed at him, "Why must I get through this?! You mourned your wife for six years, Draco, I think I am entitled to more than six days!"

"You are entitled to your grief." Draco nodded. "Yes, you can mourn Colin. But this is more than that, isn't it? You're feeling something you're afraid to tell me. Why am I not enough for you? Why don't you trust me—"

"You think I don't trust you?" Hermione asked, aghast. "You think I don't love you? I'm protecting you."

"From what?!" Draco shouted back. "I protect you, I get vengeance for you, and all you have to do is survive. That's how this works."

"That's how this works, is it?"

Draco saw it in her eyes, the moment she truly lost herself. Underneath the anger and the indignation, there was just nothing. It was like watching a piece of rubbish float away atop the ocean. Hermione nodded and tossed her hands in the air before saying,

"That's all there is, isn't it? Just me surviving. For what?"

"For me, for our son, for millions of people who look to you—"

Hermione managed to, in one swift motion, pull her jumper over her head, ball it up, and toss it at Draco's feet. He looked down at it, then—

"This is what survival looks like!"

Draco looked up and immediately stepped back, horrified. Hermione's entire arm was encircled by a series of small black Xs, stitching to hold the skin together. There was a purplish contusion around the smaller outer bit of her shoulder, then the whole left side of her chest looked bruised. A similar line of Xs appeared across her clavicle, in stark contrast to the scars from years and years earlier. Those bisecting, faded lines were just a layer underneath the latest. Draco thought he knew heartbreak, thought he understood the deepest depths of pain … Hermione stood right there in front of him, very much alive, but he couldn't fix this.

"Every time I see a future for myself, I get more and more broken." Hermione's voice cracked when she said, "This is the body you get to fuck for the next fifty years. This is the body I have to live in!"

"I …"

"Every hit I take on the outside," she pressed her hand to her chest, "it hurts in here. I want to be normal. I want to do my own hair. I want to stand in front of my boyfriend and feel like I understand the way he's looking at me, but I don't. We've had sex once when I had my top off. More than two months together and you've shagged me like that only once because I hate looking at myself and I didn't want to make you look at me either."

"That's not …" Draco frowned. That was right, wasn't it? Their first time together she'd been starkers, but the day after she was sacked? She kept her jumper on. Then in his office he'd stuffed his hand up her dress. On the bench in the garden? Fully clothed again. Their next opportunity was meant to be at her flat after girls' night …

"The look on your face right now, it's everything I didn't want. I know my body is falling apart, Draco. I didn't want you to know." Hermione leaned forward, placed her hands on her knees, and cried. "I'm so angry. Colin was a whole person, he was heading up in his career. I'm so broken, my career is at its end—I wish he would've let them hurt me. I'm s-so hurt already, what's the harm in more? I don't ask for all of you to protect me."

"The sun isn't asked to shine, yet it does."

"The sun still has light left to give." Hermione shook her head. "I've got none. I have nothing left to give."

"That's not true," insisted Draco. "It's not true, you have so much to give and I will keep telling you that until you believe it."

Hermione stood up and held out her hands, watching as her fingers trembled. She said,

"My soul feels nothing, it's numb; but my body has so much rage in it. It's angry it has to keep going. Before, if Colin had died, I could just …" She shrugged her good shoulder. "Trip and fall off my balcony with such little consequence. Ten floors down, it'd be over. Now, you've given me something to live for when all I want to do is escape from the hell of this life."

Draco didn't know what to say. The week he met Hermione, she lost out on a job she thought she wanted. That was her goal, moving her career laterally instead of vertically, wasn't it? Because she had nowhere upward to go. Next, she didn't have the proper time to lobby to become the UN Ambassador. Then she lost her job at BBC. Then she lost the muscle in her shoulder. And she lost Colin, all within a handful of months.

Draco busied himself unbuttoning his shirt. If this had happened a month earlier, Hermione would've drowned in the darkness. If she hadn't committed to being Scorp's maman, hadn't committed to being part of the Malfoy family, perhaps she would've "fallen" off her balcony. God, how close they were to losing her. He shrugged off his shirt and managed to get Hermione's arms through the sleeves.

"I know you're angry at me." He buttoned the shirt at the neck then placed his hands on her shoulders. "But you don't need to protect me from anything, least of all your tits. I will drag you to the car today if it makes you feel better about leaving, and I will drag you to Oliver's office tomorrow if I must. You can hate me right now, you can be sad, I don't care as long as at the other side of this you're still Hermione Granger."

"Malfoy, right?" She asked, "Isn't that what you want? What we wanted before this?"

"Of course it is. If you truly wish to be Duchess Hermione Jean Black Malfoy, that's fine. If you want to be nothing of the sort, fine as well. But you cannot be my partner, my wife unless underneath the title and the name you are Hermione Granger, the woman I fell in love with while she was teaching my son geography."

Hermione looked down at her bare feet and said, "I'll go to London, but I don't wish to speak to anyone today. Including our son."

Draco nodded.

"Whatever you need, Hermione, I am here for you.

.oOo.

Draco went to Scorpius's room and found him sitting on the end of the bed with a tiny bear clutched in his arms. Draco sat on the floor, cross-legged, and tugged on the toe of one of his son's socks.

"Do you have questions?"

"Are you and maman getting a divorce?"

Draco laughed and asked, "Why would you think that?"

"Because Rose's dad's divorced—" Not knowing that Rose's dad had, in fact, divorced Hermione. "And Jamie's parents are divorced. They said it's because their parents were sad and they didn't like each other. You and maman are sad … And you shouted like you didn't like each other."

"To get a divorce, you must be married first. Hermione and I aren't married, but even if we were, sometimes parents get into arguments. Hermione and I are sad because we lost a friend. It hurts, and when people are in pain sometimes they don't know how to get the words from their heart to their mouth. Hermione's heart hurts so much that she doesn't want to talk anymore."

"When will she talk again?"

"I dunno, Scorp." Draco shrugged. "But I know that she loves you even more than she loves me. Your maman will always love you, and the best thing you can do for her is leave her to her silence. When you say goodbye, tell her you love her. That's all we can do right now."

"Okay."

"Do you have any more questions?"

"Is Hermione's friend with my mum?"

Draco's heart mended itself a little bit as he said, "Yeah, Scorp, he is. And I think they will be fast friends the moment their paths cross."

"That's good." Scorpius smiled. "I want my mum to have friends."

"I'm sure she has many, and is singing for each of them."

Scorpius jumped off the bed and shouted, "I'm ready to go!"

"Now, what are you to do for your maman?"

"Say I love her and remember it's okay to be quiet!"

"Good, my son."

My son.

Hermione was already sitting in the car when Draco stepped out the manor's front doors. He nodded to Lewin, then watched as Scorpius clambered down the manor steps with his tiny case. Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip. Draco followed quickly, though he could see Hermione had her earbuds in. The valet opened the boot and watched Scorpius struggle to get his case inside. He did, though it knocked him on the head once. Draco watched his rather stubborn son fight against his height and the force of gravity to get that case fully into the boot. He smiled to himself then clambered into the backseat.

Draco buckled him in and said, "It's just you and me on this drive, alright?"

"But maman—"

"Her heart still hurts, remember?"

"Okay."

And that was the whole drive. Hermione stared out the window for two hours. Scorpius chatted away for two hours. Draco ached because his family was together, yet straining at the seams. He pulled into Blaise's house, and it wasn't until the gates opened that Hermione rested her hand on the centre console, palm-up. Draco took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back, lingering, praying she understood he was there for her.

She rushed out of the car the moment Draco put it in park. Dean opened the front door and that was the first time Draco understood that this wasn't Blaise's house anymore. It was the Zabini house, soon to be Blaise and Dean's. Draco unbuckled his son, only to watch Scorpius zoom over toward the front door. He shouted,

"I'll just carry your case, shall I?!"

Scorpius shouted over his shoulder, "Thank you, father!" Then he rushed up the front steps and hugged Dean Thomas around the legs. "DEAN!"

Draco grabbed the case then slammed the boot shut with more force than necessary. Dean Thomas looked a bit confused by Scorpius's enthusiasm for him, though he welcomed it. Dean patted him on the back, said something, then Scorpius rushed upstairs to his room. Draco handed the case to Dean and asked,

"Where's Blaise?"

"At the restaurant."

"Right. Do me a favour and pull some beer from the fridge. I need alcohol."

Dean said, "You do know this isn't your house, and I'm not the valet."

"Blaise usually follows Scorp upstairs with the case. If you plan to be godfather number two, then you need to learn the role."

Dean's face fell a bit as he insisted, "I don't think I'm qualified to be that just yet. I wouldn't dare intrude on your son's life like that."

Draco sighed.

"Your not-so-secret engagement portends otherwise. Hermione had a breakdown this morning and I haven't the energy."

Draco didn't bother waiting for a response as he forced himself upstairs and into his de-facto bedroom. The guestroom he'd claimed for ten years. Hermione was on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco asked,

"Do you need anything?"

Hermione's voice was soft when she answered, "No."

"Do you want me here?"

Another soft, "No."

"Can I say one thing before I go?"

Hermione said, "Yes."

"I won't sleep in this room tonight. You have this to yourself because I trust you enough that I don't need to hide anything from you. All I ask is if you feel the need to do something because you've finally drowned in all that darkness, Hermione, you find me and tell me you love me before you do it."

Draco watched Hermione stand up from the bed. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Draco looked down into those wide, sad brown eyes that he'd seen on television for years and years, rimmed in red, eyes that cried too many tears. Hermione didn't say anything, but she did stand on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek before once again collapsing on the bed.

Draco closed the bedroom door behind him and made his way downstairs. As he stepped once again into the foyer, his phone vibrated with a text … from Hermione?

This is what survival looks like.

Accompanied by a photo of himself and Hermione in Scorpius's bed, curled up together reading him a bedtime story. Draco wondered who could've taken it before recalling that his mother had eyes everywhere in the house. That's what Hermione said, wasn't it? The walls whisper to her. It warmed Draco's heart to know that she didn't plan to "fall off the balcony." Hermione simply needed her time alone to grieve.

A sixer of Steady Rolling Man was resting on the coffee table in the snug. Draco plopped onto the sofa next to Dean, who was watching a football match on the telly. He was in trackies and a t-shirt, looking effortlessly at home in Blaise's house. Because it's his, now. He said,

"Replay. West Ham wins in extra time."

"Hermione's not talking to me." Draco grabbed a can of beer and pulled the tab. "About five of these and I might feel better."

"She'll come 'round." Dean sighed. "You did an excellent job with the funeral. Dennis was raving about it."

"Thank you." Draco made a face. "Sort of feels like I owed it to him. And Colin was always great to Hermione. When she lost out on the UN job and stole his car, d'you know what he said on the phone to me?"

"What's that?"

"His first instinct was to make sure I wouldn't take advantage of Hermione. That was the sort of bloke he was. A good one. Christ, I know so many shitty men, it hurts to know the world's lost a good one."

He chugged half the can. He let out a soft aah of relief before wiggling his shoulders. It had been too long since he'd had a drink. The weight of the past week began to lift the slightest bit.

"Hermione's lost a lot the past few months." Dean nodded to himself and added, "She gained a lot, too."

"It's hard because I know what it's like. I've been that low before, so I know. Watching her searching for a reason to stay alive, it hurts more because I know I'm not enough." Draco admitted, "She's only forcing herself on in life because of my son. I never worried about being enough for Astoria. But … Now I know I'm not enough for her."

"Sometimes," said Dean, "when you're that low, there's only one thing you can hold onto without falling into a place you'll never get out of. When Seamus left me, kicked me out of our house, everything inside of me shattered. I lost my best friend and my husband and my dignity all at once. I wa—" Dean coughed to cover up what Draco knew to be lingering pain in his voice. "I wanted to die. I wanted it all to be over."

"That's where Hermione's at now. I dunno how to pull her out of it, because she is the one who pulled me out."

"Sometimes no one can. Sometimes it takes your own mind to do it. I was at Neville's place the day Shea kicked me out, and I noted everything in the room: scissors, bedsheets, pillows, the bottle of expired pills they'd forgotten about in the basket atop the toilet. Anything I could use to kill myself, I had a plan for it in my mind. I am the type of person who likes to consider things before I do them. If I make a life-altering, or life-ending decision, I give myself a day. I breathe."

"Except snogging Blaise, that didn't seem to take long."

Dean blushed and conceded, "No, no, that decision didn't take long at all. But it's a decision I wouldn't have been able to make if I'd done what I intended to do."

"What stopped you, then?"

"Eeeh, I'm not particularly proud—"

"My son was three years old when I tried to kill myself, Dean." Draco was mortified those words had come out of his mouth. And yet, buoyed along by alcohol, he continued. "I won't judge you for the thoughts you had. I thought my son would be better off without me, so Blaise could be his guardian. I wanted nothing to do with this life."

"Well …" Dean shrugged. "I ran through everything I could think of. I didn't care about leaving my sisters. They loved Shea anyway, probably more than they loved me. I didn't care about my mum losing her only son; my stepfather would throw a party. I knew Gin would be torn up over it, but that wasn't enough. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have each other. They can get through anything, just the three of them. Shea was that person for me. Ti, Padma, my football mates, they all had things to hold onto that didn't involve me. So the why wasn't working."

"What did work?"

"The how."

Draco repeated, "The how?"

"I'm quite tall, so I knew it would be difficult to move my body. I couldn't find it in my soul to put my friends in that position. Neville and Hannah know loss, they could handle that. They'd be the ones to find me. But then I thought about the logistics of moving me and I realized that there would be no dignity in death. So I kept on, day after day, week after week, bouncing from one friend's guestroom to the next. I kept teaching, looking at those little ten-year-olds thinking they deserved a teacher who didn't go home at night thinking how nice it would be to not wake up the next morning."

"I never would've guessed you could feel so horribly about yourself."

"I never would've guessed someone with your money could feel the pain you went through." Dean lazily waved his hand. "I think anyone with the capacity to love the way people like you and me can, I think it means we open ourselves up to that sort of pain. The ache nobody knows how to heal. About a year in, I couldn't take it anymore. Seamus had taken my car, my home, and my marriage away. I loved him and I hated him, but I only hated myself. There was no love for me because he didn't love me."

"That's exactly what I felt when Blaise rejected me." Draco admitted, "He had done everything for me. If he couldn't love me, how the bloody hell could I love myself?"

"I'd nicked enough painkillers over the year. I bought two very nice, very expensive bottles of alcohol that I didn't even understand. I meant to do it Friday night because nobody would come looking for me until I didn't show up for school on Monday. I didn't have any property to leave; Shea owned all my things and I rented my flat. The only thing I needed to figure out legally were the book royalties, and I left them to Luna."

"Smart. You gave it far more consideration than me." Draco leaned his head back on the top of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. "I didn't even think about how my mum would feel. The only thing in my head was, I want to die. I want to be with my wife. I'm not a good enough father for my son."

"I was really happy that day." Dean's voice was soft. He leaned back on the sofa, so Draco turned to watch him as the memories came rushing back. "Knowing it would finally end, I was happy. Then one of my students' parents was late picking them up. Very late. Probably two hours. When their parents arrived, the kid hugged me and said, 'Thank you for being here.'" Dean wiped away a tear and said, "I realized on Monday I wouldn't be. I went home and … I'd say a handful of pills and half a bottle of alcohol in, I realized I was doing something I didn't want to do. All I had in my head was that kid saying, 'Thank you for being here.' I managed to find my phone and called someone who could get me to hospital without telling anyone else."

Draco guessed, "You phoned Hermione."

"I phoned Hermione."

"That explains why she turns into a homicidal demon when someone mentions your ex-husband."

"Blaise doesn't know. Gin doesn't know. Nobody knows except Hermione, and I intend to keep it that way."

"Understood." Draco revealed, "I told Hermione about my incident three years ago and she didn't seem bothered by it. Perhaps because she'd already been down that road with you. I imagine the burden of these secrets must weigh on her." He sighed. "I think I've got to tell my friends what I did."

"I don't believe that."

"No?"

"Sometimes people are better off not knowing. Gin would be so hurt if she knew she wasn't my first call. I told Blaise the first half of what I told you …" Dean grimaced. "Not the second half. I suppose now that he's my fiancé I should … I should tell him."

"I think you should."

"I think I need to talk to Seamus." Dean crushed the can in his hand. "Blaise thinks I've misunderstood what happened, and I'd never have considered it except I care for Blaise too much not to give his opinion weight."

"Finnegan was happy for you when I met him." Draco insisted, "Genuinely, he was telling Blaise all these great things."

"Blaise talks to him often, sometimes on the phone and sometimes via Instagram. D'you know how they address each other? Blaise calls Seamus 'ex-husband' and Shea refers to Blaise as 'future husband.'"

Draco giggled and huffed, "That's fucked."

"But it's funny. Even I'm man enough to admit it's funny. Just like you and me, sitting here, the joy of being alive, innit?"

"No, joy is wine. Beer is the shit you drink when you feel like shit."

Dean grabbed another DEYA, popped the tab, and knocked Draco's half-empty can with it. He said,

"To being alive and shit."

Draco raised his in a salute and replied, "To queers and beers."