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Chapter Text

5th June 1998- 

Eighteen. 

Draco was now finally a legal adult. But his birthday was very much like the previous two. Lonely, dark, a fog of blood and death painting the air with no light or means to celebrate it. Only pain, torture and death were welcomed for his birthday, which he'd been looking forward to celebrating out of them all. Except this birthday, unlike the last, he wasn't spending it totally alone. 

Draco lay motionless on his back in the middle of his bed, listening to his three-month-old son snoring gently in the cot beside him as he stared with sleepless exhaustion up at the ceiling. That's right. Draco was now a father. A young one too. Which was okay, he supposed; it wasn't what he had in mind to begin with, but these things happen.

Blessed with Scorpius at the age of seventeen. He wouldn't change him for the world. His son was his pride and joy. The spitting image of his father with white-blonde fluffy tufts of hair and the pale complexion the Malfoys typically carried. Pointy features and rosy pink chubby cheeks.

A depressed sigh tumbled through his lips as he turned his head towards his son, peacefully and soundly asleep. Scorpius was lying on his back wearing a little green dragon-printed onesie, his little head of blonde hair turned towards him with his thumb firmly in place between his small pink lips. Draco stared at him for a long time in the silence, a small part inside of his chest hoping to see those chestnut brown eyes Scorpius held to open for a second. 

But he should let him sleep. Scorpius had been up all night, restless and screaming loud enough to crumble the Manor roof down. As much as Draco wanted to look into the eyes of the mother his son held, he still, a month and a half later, couldn't bear to stare into them for too long without breaking down. Tears stung around the edges of his silver eyes as the guilt lay heavy in his chest that he couldn't bear to look at his son for too long without seeing...her. 

It wasn't his fault he had inherited her doe-shaped powerful eyes, which he would never personally see again.

None of this was Scorpius's fault to begin with. 

It was all Draco's fault and his alone. 

"Draco?" Theo stepped in with a gentle knock to the door. 

"Hi." Draco answered, his voice deeply hollow, keeping his empty gaze on Scorpius.

Theo softly clicked the door shut behind him. The mattress dipped beside Draco as he sat down quietly, cracking his knuckles. 

"Happy birthday, mate." Theo whispered with pity, as quietly as he could. 

Draco scoffed, folding his hands across the top of his stomach. "What do you want?" 

Theo swallowed in response, debating about touching his shoulder for comfort or not. Not generally a terrific idea lately given the circumstances. Theo lowered his hand back down to his knee instead. 

"Came to see you. And little man, of course." He said softly. "He's getting big." 

"Babies do grow, Nott." Draco's tone was thick with irate sarcasm. 

"Right, yeah, I knew that," Theo awkwardly coughed, the tension thick in the air like a grey heavy cloud. "Are you doing okay?" 

"Tired." He said with a forced sniff. "He won't sleep. He hates me. It's like he knows what I did." 

Theo's chest tightened achingly. "Scorpius doesn't hate you, Draco. Don't be silly." 

Draco's gaze cut to him so agonisingly hateful that Theo felt the urge to sprint away from him. "I'm in no mood for this. I don't want to talk about this again. I know what you're doing, and you can fuck off if you even think about bringing it up to me again." 

"It wasn't your fault," Theo said anyway, because despite how much Draco was trying to avoid it, he needed to know he wasn't accountable for what had happened to Scorpius's mother. "Can't you see that?" 

"Get. Out." 

"No," Theo stubbornly stayed put, levelling a glare at Draco. "I'm worried about you. I'm staying whether you like it or not." 

Draco growled frustratingly at him and turned over, putting his back to him to face his sleeping, sweet, innocent son instead. "She should be here. And it's my fault that she isn't. I never should have—" he broke off on a strangled sob lodged in his throat. "I can't do this on my own...he needs his mother." 

Regardless of feeling unwelcome, Theo lay down beside him on his back and settled his hand on Draco's shaking shoulder. 

"You're not on your own. You have me, your parents. Pansy and Blaise. We're all here for you, to take it in turns. You're the one pushing us out because you feel guilty." 

Draco shrugged himself out of Theo's comforting and supportive hand and shifted over as close as he possibly could to the edge of his bed where it was cold. Instead of comfort, he felt the never-ending shallow, deep, dark hole of an endless falling pit. Instead of the love of his family and his friends surrounding him, he felt empty inside. Instead of the joy and unconditional love a new parent should feel for their innocent and fragile child, Draco felt hollow. Like his heart was still beating, but it ached beyond repair with each blood-pumping pulse. 

Theo didn't touch him again, but he didn't leave him alone either. He stayed silent, interlocking his hands behind his head while he stared up at the ceiling for hours next to his best friend and godson. No words were needed; Theo knew despite Draco's lack of hospitality towards him, he needed him here. Draco wanted him here regardless of how many times he said otherwise. 

And here he'd stay for as long as he needed. No matter the seconds, minutes, hours, days or even weeks, Theo wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. 

Draco's eyes grew heavy with well-needed sleep. Before he gave into the dream world where he would see his witch again as he did every night, Draco reached between the bars of Scorpius's cot and traced circles with his index finger onto his little soft squishy palm. Scorpius's little finger closed around Draco's in a tight grip instinctively. Draco's chest constricted every time he did this. Scorpius preferred knowing that Draco was close by and needed some form of physical touch to know that he was safe. 

Yet, Draco was far from a father to be considered safe. He didn't deserve him. Draco didn't deserve anything considered nice and the gift of his only child.

It was his fault. 

It was Draco's fault; Scorpius no longer had a mother to take care of him. It was Draco's fault that Scorpius had been left curled up in her arms for hours after she'd been killed, crying for her to wake up and feed him. To hold him and rock him to sleep, singing lullabies to shy the nightmares away. It was Draco's fault Scorpius had been weak, unfed and close to death himself. 

It was Draco's fault. Scorpius's mother was dead and no longer here to watch him grow and protect him as she had always wanted to do.

Hermione Granger, the love of his life since fourth year and long-term secret friend since first year, and Scorpius's mother was dead. 

And Draco had been the one to snuff the light out of her eyes from the very beginning.

Chapter Text

5th June 1997-

Draco, 

Happy 17th birthday.

I'm disappointed that we can't spend the night together looking up at the stars with my famous picnic basket as we did last year, and the year before, and the year before that. But what can we do? You're safe, at home, which is all that matters to me. 

I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I am incredibly proud of you. Harry told me what happened that night. You were so brave, so courageous. He said you lowered your wand. He said that you couldn't do it in the end. You're not a man of stone to me. You're not a killer, and you proved it that night. I never had my doubts; you take a life to save a life, and still in the end you lowered your wand. You have empathy, even if you hide it so well from everyone else apart from me. You're not the terrible person who you keep believing that you are.

I wish I could have been there to see it happen myself. I wish I got the chance to say goodbye to you before you left. 

I miss you. 

But there's something that I need to tell you. I really need to talk to you face to face. If you can get a chance to get away for a few hours, of course, then please come and see me. I'll be leaving the Burrow tomorrow night at six pm. My floo to my room will be open after six. My parents will be out for the night. Please come and see me. 

It's urgent. 

All my love, 

H.G. 

~♡~

6th June 1997- 

At precisely 18:01pm, Draco stepped into his floo and tossed down the powder, calling out Hermione's address. Green flames engulfed his tall frame, twisting the darkness of his room away. He was too impatient to wait for her to step through her front door and unpack her stuff. She said six. So here he was, a minute after entering her bedroom, which of course was empty of her presence. Maybe he was too eager to see her as much as she was with him. Hermione knew he was impatient when it came to her. 

She wouldn't mind. 

Draco cleaned his shoes, shirt, and trousers with a simple flick of his wand before stepping onto her cream carpet and crossing the room right towards her bed. Sitting on the edge, he pressed his hands flat on either side of him to feel the soft, silky material of her plum-colored bedsheets. He smiled, a tad. Purple had been the farthest colour in his mind of her bedroom decor when he'd first come here two years ago. Draco had initially thought her room would be draped in red and gold, much like his room was silver and emerald. A typical tactic. To match their house personalities. 

How wrong he had been. His little witch constantly catching him off guard and surprising him.

He flicked his eyes up to her white bedside table, where a moving framed picture of them both sat on display in a diamond frame. Flexing a muscle in his jaw, Draco reached over and plucked it up into his hand. He adored this memory. Out of the thousands they had created in secret away from their friends, this one he would forever cherish. 

It was from the night of the Yule Ball. Just the two of them in the peaceful bliss and privacy of the Astronomy Tower, closing down the evening together once their dates had gone to bed. Draco had wanted to take her, of course. Of course, he had more than anything. But Krum had gotten there first. 

And besides, they had made a deal right from the start on the train. Enemies to the public and watching eyes. Friends behind closed doors and eventually lovers. Hermione would have turned him down if he had even attempted to ask her to be his date. Not because she didn't like him or thought less of him but because of who she was and who he was supposed to be. Draco's father was the head of the school board. If word had gotten out, only trouble would have lain ahead for the both of them. 

Especially her. 

It wasn't a risk worth taking. So, reluctantly and rather begrudgingly, Draco had asked Pansy Parkinson to the ball instead to keep things on the down low and had to suffer spending most of the evening in a foul mood watching Krum fawn all over Hermione. Big-boned Bulgarian—can't even say her fucking name right—show-off and egotistical Viktor Krum, whom Draco loathed with every nerve cell in his body. He'd lost count that night how many times he'd wanted to break his fingers for touching her waist or her bare shoulder with his grubby hands. 

Twirling her around on the glittering, snow-themed dance floor as if he had claimed her. Draco had then seen enough of someone else dancing and touching his witch and dragged her out of the ball while no one had been paying attention and taken her up to the Astronomy Tower to end the night together alone. Hermione hadn't minded so much that he'd stolen her to keep her to himself. In truth she hadn't exactly been enjoying herself with Krum either. 

Hermione had been waiting for it to be over. Counting down the minutes until they could sneak away, and although she had never truly admitted this out loud, she had been just as jealous of Pansy being the one dancing with Draco instead of her that night. Draco may or may not have seen it in her eyes and heard it in the tone of her voice and the wrinkle of her nose as they had talked about it. 

Which was how this picture of the pair of them had come around to begin with. Hermione had secretly kept a Muggle camera in her bag at all times to sneak pictures of them both to keep as memories. But if Draco had to choose which one he could stare at forever, it would be this one. 

Hermione looked so beautiful. The stars twinkled in the clear, dark blue sky, creating a beautiful backdrop before the storm disrupted their privacy. Her chestnut curls pinned up in a sleek, over-the-shoulder style with a little diamond pin holding them up in place. Her periwinkle dress was breezing and dazzling in the reflection of the stars and moon, like Draco's own personal star fallen out of the sky and into the palm of his hand. Her eyes sparkling, like she held the universe in those pools of hot chocolate.

Draco watched the picture roll in a repetitive loop. As the camera flashed, Draco looked away to stare at the side of her face and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Hermione's eyes fell shut each time his lips brushed her skin. Her smile couldn't possibly grow any wider if she had tried, as it went back and replayed. 

Draco had never taken the time to realise how he looked at her. Hermione had once said that he looked at her as though she was the only thing he could see. His own personal Renaissance painting he got to keep all to himself, and he had always shrugged it off like she was living in a fairytale land. But now, as he looked deeper at himself in the photo, he could see it now. 

Every time his face turned to kiss her, Draco's eyes were wandering around her face as if he was mapping out every fine detail. From her eyes to her hair, her nose, her lips, her cheeks and the splatter of freckles painting her nose. He could see it now. He did look at her in a way that she was all that he could see in his life. The only woman in the world, his silver eyes practically in the shape of love hearts devoted to her and her alone.

He smiled at it as the bedroom door opened. Draco raised his eyes as Hermione walked in wearing an awful red Weasley knitted jumper, which he truthfully despised, but he would never tell her that. A pair of dark blue jeans and brown and black trainers on her feet. Hermione gasped, startled to see him already sitting on her bed, as she shut her door and pressed a hand to her heart. 

"Merlin, Draco," Hermione patted her chest to calm her racing heart, scowling softly. "I wasn't expecting you to be here already." 

Draco snorted, putting the picture on the bedside table back. "Then you should have been more specific on what time you wanted me to be here. I couldn't wait another minute."

Hermione dropped her bags to the floor, in a hurry wrapped her arms around her neck and collapsed down on top of him, pushing him backwards to the bed. Her lips immediately attacked his in a bruising kiss before he even had a chance to wrap his arms around her. Not that he minded, of course. Draco could happily starve of oxygen and die right here underneath her. His mouth parted as her tongue swept along his bottom lip. Messy, tongue-tangling, soft groans of passion and unspoken words between them as his hands roved up and down her back, to her hair, and then settled on her waist.

I've missed you. 

It didn't need to be said. Only shown. 

Draco braced one hand behind him, keeping his other on the small of her back as he pushed to sit them up and pulled her down to straddle his waist. Hermione broke away, panting, her pupils wide and intoxicated from his burning touch. But instead of looking at him, she started to frantically pat at his chest, his shoulders and down both of his arms, searching for something with a small crease between her brows as if she was scared. 

"It's okay, I'm okay," Draco said, clutching her eager, shaking hands in his. "I'm not hurt, I swear." 

Hermione shot her distrusting gaze to his. "He always hurts you. Let me see your hands." 

"He hasn't hurt me this time. I promise." 

"No, but, Draco—" 

"Hermione." Draco said her name, low and impatient, gripping her fighting wrists. "I'm fine. I swear. All right? Trust me for once."

Her eyes narrowed and intently searched his. Looking for a hint of a lie in his silver gaze. But he wasn't lying this time. Voldemort hadn't punished him since his mistake with cursing Katie Bell. If anything, Draco was lucky he'd gotten off any punishments by the skin of his teeth. 

The accusing glare in her eyes softened with relief. "All right. I trust you." 

"Good," Draco smiled, sweeping her curls off her shoulders. "You said that you wanted to talk to me." 

Now it was Draco's turn to look distrusting as Hermione climbed out of his lap, put distance between them and started pacing in front of him. His brows furrowed as she looked sick with guilt, tapping her lower lip with her fingers. Whatever this was about couldn't be good. He always knew when she was up to something and was keeping something from him. 

"What?" He slapped a hand down to his thigh. "What's wrong?" 

Hermione stopped her nervous pacing and turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest. She swallowed three times before answering, the colour slightly fading from her features.

"Um. Do you remember when I told you that Harry and Dumbledore were looking for something important the night he died?"

"Vaguely," Draco paused to think for a moment. "Horcrux or something, wasn't it? It's hard to remember, given our night in the hospital wing before that." He smirked suggestively.

And what a night it was. Draco's thoughts drifted off back to that night. Just the two of them alone in the dark, under the covers. Terrified for what may or may not have happened to him after his task. Unexpected but so beautiful and magical. Skin-to-skin contact broke that barrier and broke that forbidden line, something neither of them had dared to cross before. Call it one last goodbye, a need to connect in case they never saw one another again. He'd never forget it either. Slow and passionate, giving her all of him under the moonlight shadow seeping in through the window. He'd never let go of the memory of her bare skin warm and flush against his, with his name on her lips like sweet honey, breathy in his ear.

Nodding, Hermione bit the edge of her lip, bringing him back to the present. "Yes, that exactly." 

Confused but patient, his pulse thundering against his ribs, Draco motioned for her to continue. 

"Well, they found it," Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth, going green in the face and dry heaving. 

"Are you all right?" He asked, leaning forwards to pull her closer by the back of her thigh, scanning her ill face. 

Nodding Hermione took a deep breath and settled both hands on his shoulders. "Yeah, just feel a little sick, that's all. I'm fine, anyway." She rambled. "It was a fake, and Harry found a note inside of it after Dumbledore's funeral. I don't know who it was from, but it said that they had stolen the real one. So...I'm...not coming back for seventh year, Draco." Her voice went dry, riddled with anxiety. "Me, Harry and Ron are leaving after Bill and Fleur's wedding to search for the real one. And the others too."

At her confession his eyes immediately turned cold. "What?!" 

"Don't be upset with me—" 

"Upset?!" He raged as he shot up and stepped around her, falling into a frantic, stressed-out pace back and forth across her bedroom. "I'm not even close to upset, Hermione. You said that you were coming back where I could keep an eye on you!" 

"Draco, Harry needs me." She pleaded, her voice small. "He needs my help." 

Draco laughed a strangled sarcastic noise as he turned to face her. A bitter sneer curved his lips. "So I'm just supposed to go back to school and sit around wondering where you are at all times?" 

"Yes." She replied, blunt and straight to the point, like it didn't matter to her.

Draco set his jaw. His voice extremely tight. "And where will you be going for this exactly?" 

"I don't know yet. Up and down the country. They could be anywhere. I've got a tent, clothes and food ready for the trip. But it's okay." Hermione took his trembling hands into hers. "I can cast protective wards. Silencing charms. I'll be fine, I promise." 

"No," he refused, shaking his head, his silver eyes wild with terror. "You're not going. Let them do it on their own." 

It was pointless arguing with this witch. Draco knew already she was going to go through with this whether he approved or not. Which he didn't. Not when Fenrir Greyback will be let loose off his muzzle and lead. Not when Voldemort was already planning on sending out snatchers to capture Muggle-borns and traitors. Hermione would be the first one that they would sniff out and hunt. And he refused to let anything happen to her while he would be trapped in the castle walls, unable to do anything. He could feel it already, that nauseous, stomach-aching worry rolling around in his stomach at the horrific thoughts of what they would do once they had her. 

No. No way. He had to think of something and fast to stop her from this stupid, courageous and dangerous idea. 

Hermione's brows twisted up at him into a firm, irate scowl. "I'm going whether you like it or not. You can't protect me forever. And besides," she let go of his hands, turned around and bent down to her bag on the floor, unzipped it and opened it up. "The first thing that I'm going to do is protect my parents." 

"Hermione," Draco growled, watching her ransack her bag. "I'm telling you one time and one time only. You. Are. Not. Going. End of." 

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head deniably as she straightened, with a bunch of paperwork and two black books in her hands. The anger was melted from her face, replaced with grief of acceptance Draco struggled to understand.

"You can't stop me. These Horcruxes need finding and killing. And tomorrow morning, I'm going to wipe my parents' memories of me. Of you and everyone," she said, chin high and brave, but her tone wavered like she was about to burst into tears. "I'm going to send them off to Australia, where they will be safe. Then, I'm going to go to The Order and help them plan to move Harry tomorrow afternoon. You can read all of this." She handed them over to him, her breath catching in her throat. "Tonight's our last night, Draco. I brought you here to say goodbye." 

"Wh-what?" He stuttered, his throat swelling. "For how long? I'm not ready. You didn't give me enough time. I don't want you to go." 

Hermione's answer, which deep down he already knew, lay heavy in her eyes. Sad, and her mind was already made up on her plans. No matter what he'd say or how much he was going to beg her, she wasn't going to change her mind. 

Draco's stomach sank right down to the floor, the answer hitting him like a knife between his shoulder blades. "Oh. I see." 

Throwing her arms around his shoulders, Hermione hugged him as tight as she could, like she wasn't prepared to let him go just yet either. Draco's limbs felt immobilised as he limply held his arms at his sides like a rag doll. Every bone in his body felt numb to the core. His ribs were crushing inwards, trapping the oxygen from escaping. Until this nightmare would end, he wasn't going to see her again after he'd leave. 

How long was that going to take? Days? Weeks? Months? Y-years...fuck, this could take years! 

Oh gods...he was going to be sick.

"You have to stay in your lane," Hermione whispered, peppering soft kisses to his aching pulse point. "Stay on your side. I'll stay on mine. We're enemies now, Draco." 

With his muscle memory kicking into action, Draco finally trapped her against his chest, his arms too long and wide for her small back, but he didn't care. He needed to hold onto her for as long as he possibly could. His nose buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, breathing it into his burning, seizing chest as much as he could to remember her scent. Old books, sugar quills and vanilla. 

Draco dropped the paperwork in a flutter to the floor, his hands tracing every inch of her so that he wouldn't forget. From her soft, bouncy curls suffocating him, to her shoulders, down her sides, around her waist and to her curvy hips. His fingers dipped beneath her scratchy jumper, tracing the bumps of her spine. Every ridge of her ribs, her soft sweet skin and the little dents of the dimples in her spine. 

His skin grew wet as she began to cry against his throat and pulled away forcefully, unable to meet his heartbroken gaze. 

"You can't come with me either, Draco." Hermione choked on her tears streaming down her ivory skin. She met his gaze then, hopeful and strong. "But I will end this as fast as I can so that we can be together again." 

"I can't let you do this without me, Granger. What about our plans? 'A second chance', you said. And we can't do that if you end up mauled to death by Greyback and his pack of bloodhounds, and I can't be there to do anything to stop it!" He heaved a rush of angry air. "Please, I'm only going to ask you once. Come back to school with me." 

"No, I'm not coming back. My mind's made up." She argued back with a hot glare. "The boys will be with me. I'll be all right."

Draco scoffed at her, the sound laced with poison. "Oh, give me a fucking break! Those two are idiots! They couldn't find their way out of a maze if their lives depended on it." 

Hermione huffed a worn breath, throwing her hands to her hips. "I get that you're upset about us splitting up. But I'm not a child, Draco. I can defend myself; I've trained for this. We've practised ourselves. I'm done arguing," she held up a firm palm as Draco made to argue. "You're not going to change my mind. You're going back to school while I'm out on the hunt. You'll be safer in Hogwarts. End of discussion. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to throw up."

Shoving past him, Hermione bolted right into her bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth and slammed the door shut hard enough to create a gust of cold wind. Draco stared with despair at her door for a long time, listening to her retch and heave violently into the bowl. Sighing, he tried the door handle and knocked, asking to check on her. Between dry heaves and froggy coughs, Hermione denied him coming in to help her, refusing to let him see her vomit.

Giving up his attempts to make sure she was all right while his blood roared in his ears, stressed to the bone about her decision and worried about why she was so sick, Draco walked back to her bed and picked up the paperwork she handed to him. While he listened to the tap running and the toilet flushing, Draco scanned it all. There were two birth certificates, for her parents, but magically altered; a housing letter based in Australia; and a new dentist practice under Monika and Wendell Wilkins.

Furrowing his brows, he opened the two little black books with the Queen of England's crest on the front. Inside held pictures of her mum and her dad with their names and birth dates changed to appear five years older than their natural age. Hermione had really thought this through already. She'd changed everything, and he found two plane tickets to head to Sydney, Australia, first thing tomorrow morning for them both in first class. A plan to keep them safe and far, far away from the war, where they wouldn't be found. The bravest thing a child could do for their parent, and his heart squeezed in his chest at her astounding bravery to make them forget her.

Snapping them shut, he gathered it all up in a pile and patted them against his palm, thinking hard until his head ached as Hermione came out of the bathroom. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and her face was as white as a ghost. Putting the paperwork and passports to the side, he held his hand out, silently asking for her to join him on the bed. Hermione smiled, padding over to him and threading their fingers together. 

Draco tugged her to lie down with him for a while. No arguing, no disagreements. He only wanted to lie here with her until the time would come to separate. To hold her for the short available time they had left together. He stared up at the ceiling, barely blinking, too afraid that if he did, it would all be over too quickly. Hermione fell asleep soon after they shared their final goodbye kisses and spoke their promises to find each other at the end of the war. To stick to their plans they'd designed in their heads for their future together.

For now she was safe tucked into his side, with his arms protectively draped around her shoulders as she slept soundly and warm, and her curls spilt over his mouth, blocking his airways. But tomorrow, this will all be gone, and it frightened him to death that once he'd go home, back to the eerie bloodbath and loneliness of his manor, he'd never know when he could next hold her like this again. 

~♡~

5.00am 7th June 1997-

Draco stood by Hermione's bed, watching her sleep, tucked up under her thick duvet, her cheek adorably squashed against her pillow. Her breathing was deep and steady. Her curls spread out across her – no, his – pillow like a golden-brown waterfall of gold. She looked so peaceful, her button nose twitching from her wonderful dream. The edges of her mouth slightly curved into a sweet smile; lost in the universe, her mind had taken her tonight to escape the reality of this harsh world. 

Draco's fingers tightened around the base of his hawthorn wand. The tip gently pressed against the smooth patch of skin between Hermione's brows. Draco's shielded and glassy eyes, from the power of his occlumency steel walls, high and unbreakable, stayed locked on her resting features. He watched unblinking, emotionless and not capable of feeling a fucking thing as her long dark lashes fluttered against the curves of her cheekbones. Dawn approached, seeping in between the thin crack of her curtains, glowing around her like a deep orange halo. 

He was out of time.

"I'm sorry," he told her. His tone was robotic and unnatural compared to when he was vulnerable and his walls weren't up to help. He bent down, brushing his cold lips to her warm cheek. "I'll take it from here; I'll help them in secret. I'll come back and find you when the time is right. I promise, Hermione. I love you." 

Draco straightened, keeping his wand steady between her eyes as he reached inside his trouser pocket and left her passport, birth certificate and plane ticket next to her head. He'd spent the last seven hours since she'd fallen asleep pre-packing the house for her and her parents. Altered her documents of proof to change her name and age. If she was considering going on that hunt into the unknown without him and without solid protection, then Draco had sought out desperate measures to ensure her safety. He didn't want to. He didn't want to have to cross this line; she'd probably never forgive him for it either. But he was desperate and putting her first, as he always had done since day one. Draco had already shed his tears of guilt in the last hour of watching her, remembering her face, and accepted the grief he was going to feel once this was done.

With one long deep breath, the enchantment and forbidden spell he'd used on her parents not twenty minutes ago slipped easily from his lips like the spicy, smooth, rich taste of Firwhiskey dripping on his tongue. 

"Obliviate." 

Goodbye, Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of her age and his soulmate. Hello, muggle regular girl Maisie Emma Wilkins. 

Little did Draco know he'd come to regret this decision of wiping her memories of him, her friends, Hogwarts and who she was born to be in exactly nine months' time. If anything, he'd put her in more danger than he had in the last split-second decision of saving her life from the dangers that lay ahead.

~♡~

Present time 7th June 1998- 

The high-pitched wailing cries of Scorpius roused Draco from his sleep, which was devoid of dreams or happy memories. Draco groaned, rubbing at his sore, sleep-deprived eyes, and leaned up on his elbow as he opened his heavy-weighted eyes. In the low moonlight-shadowed room, Scorpius's little hands were up in the air, wiggling his fingers, looking for someone to pick him up and hold him. Fat tears leaked from his scrunched-up eyes and down his little temples, matting into his blonde hair. Another nightmare, it seemed. He couldn't possibly be hungry again. 

Draco had only fed him forty-five minutes ago and changed his nappy at the same time.

Yawning wide enough for the Hogwarts Express to pass through his mouth, Draco pulled back his covers and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. Getting up still half asleep, he bent over Scorpius's cot and, very carefully, lifted him up into his arms with his hand cradling the back of his soft head and his other supporting his bum. 

"Shhh," Draco whispered, tucking him up close to his bare chest, resting the underside of his chin on the top of Scorpius's head. "It's okay. Dadas here." 

Stroking his back up and down as Draco lightly bounced him in his arms, walking around his room to soothe him, Scorpius's cries grew significantly louder. No matter what Draco did each night – cuddles, stories, feeds, rocking or lullabies – Scorpius barely slept and would scream for half of the night until morning.

"I know, you miss your mama," Draco sighed deeply, massaging the back of his head. "I miss her too. More than anything."

"Need a hand?" Came Theo's tired voice from the doorway. 

Draco turned to him, catching his tall, lanky figure in the darkness leaning up against the doorframe. Draco shook his head with a tight-lipped smile. Scorpius's cries got worse, and he launched his head forwards, catching Draco's jaw violently. Draco's teeth crunched together as pain shot up the curve of his jaw to his right ear canal. He took a deep breath in through his nose to stay calm and not get angry. It wasn't his fault. 

"No, I'm okay," Draco hissed, switching from stroking to patting his back. "I don't know how to stop his nightmares, Theo. Every night is the same." 

Theo stepped into Draco's room and walked up to them, eyeing Scorpius hiccuping on his tears and hiding his face in the crook of his father's neck. "Jefferys did mention that his nightmares should ease off on their own in a few months. I mean witnessing his grandparents and mother die—" 

Draco glared at him spitefully for a hot second, warning him off from talking about that particular night.

Theo raised his hands in surrender, gulping a rough swallow. "I'm just saying. He's traumatised, mate. He's too young for potions. There's not much you can do beside...what you're doing now." 

"I'm exhausted," Draco remarked, tone harsh. "I've done everything that dumb book Jeffrey gave me told me to do. Is he a healer or not? Because every method he's told me is not helping him having to see it in his dreams over and over again!" 

"Draco, you have to give it time." Theo said carefully, walking on thin, dangerous ice. "Granger was killed holding him in her arms. It's not going to go away for him just like that." 

"Are you trying to help? Or are you trying to make this worse?" He sneered. 

"I'm trying to help you." 

Draco stepped into his space intimidatingly, his glare slicing right into Theo's soul. "Then do me a favour. Actually, how about all of you do me one simple favour and stop reminding me of how she died and what he had to witness? I know what happened! I watched his memories with Jeffrey's! Hermione is dead, Theo, and it's my fault!"

"It's not your fault." Theo swallowed, his voice timid. "Stop blaming yourself. You didn't know. We're not the enemy you all think that we are." 

"Listen to me very closely, Theo. I don't need you. I don't need my parents. I don't need Pansy and Blaise hovering around me like I'm something fragile that's about to break from one touch. I only need my son. He's my priority in this never-ending suffocating war. Do you understand me?" 

Theo's jaw twitched. "We're worried about you. Why are you pushing us all away? Why won't you let one of us care for him for one night so that you can rest? You can barely stand anymore from the exhaustion." 

Draco had to turn around to calm down and focus on calming Scorpius back to sleep instead of punching Theo in the face. He wasn't angry at him, his family or his friends. Not really. He was angry with himself. Angry for the choice he'd made. Angry with how things had turned out. Angry at Potter and Weasley for going underground into hiding instead of helping to find the final Horcrux while Voldemort's army grew stronger and stronger as each day passed.

Angry at the man who had stolen Hermione's life from him and their son. 

Draco was emotionally angry at the entire world because regardless of where he would have put her from the beginning, someone would have found her in the end. 

And they did. 

Scorpius calmed down, his breath hitching into little soft sobs as Draco continued rubbing his back in soothing circles. The door softly clicked shut. Draco glanced back over his shoulder to find Theo had buggered off. He felt guilty for being nasty to him and everyone else when they were only trying to help him raise Scorpius, but he was sick to his back teeth of everyone reminding him of why Scorpius suffered these horrific nightmares in the first place. He didn't need the constant reminder of his mistakes. 

Once Scorpius calmed down enough to be put back in his cot, Draco kissed his salty tears away from his blotchy chubby cheeks and gently lowered him back down into his cot onto his back. Grabbing Scorpius's toy white ferret from the corner, Draco quietly tucked it under Scorpius's arm to snuggle. Scorpius's chocolate eyes fluttered shut as he latched onto his thumb for self-comfort. 

Sighing with relief as he watched him settle for a while, Draco avoided the noisiest floorboards of his room and slipped into the bathroom to check his jawline. As Draco approached the mirror and tenderly touched the fresh bruise spreading across his jaw from his son's powerful head swing, Scorpius giggled a jingle bell laugh for the first time from behind the ajar door of the bathroom in the bedroom. Draco glanced sideways towards his door, quirking a curious, though rather questioning, brow, first presuming he was hearing things.

Scorpius laughed again with a little squeal of pure joy. Warmth spread across Draco's chest to hear his laugh for the first time. But why was he laughing in the first place? Draco could have sworn he was asleep a second ago. Unless Theo had snuck back in and decided to play with him. 

Draco decided to go and investigate as a cold unexpected chill snaked along the floorboards and hit his bare feet. Goosebumps broke out across his arms, pebbling hard, and he shivered. Had he left a window or the balcony doors open? He couldn't remember; he was so sleep-deprived. Draco was pretty much a walking clueless ghost these days. 

Scorpius's laughter grew louder, of pure delight and gurgly chuckles. Draco sleepily smiled as he yawned again and left his bathroom. But that warmth in his chest to hear the series of happy squeals escaping his son's lips soon turned to stabbing ice at what he was seeing. 

No wonder Scorpius was laughing instead of sleeping. Because someone was tickling his round tummy with their fingers. But it wasn't Theo doing it. Or his mother or father. Not Pansy or Blaise or one of Draco's elves.

Instead it was someone else. Someone who Draco didn't know, fully equipped in Death Eater robes. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat as he watched this monster, whoever they were, play with his boy. Draco's muscles went rigid as he realised it was a woman Death Eater. Her hood was down, showing off her long curly locks of a golden waterfall of sunshine blonde hair with brown streaks in her strands. Equipped with an ancient dagger in her waist holder and a wand holster strapped to her arm, every inch of her short, slim body was fully covered by her Death Eater tight-fitted robes clinging to her curves, not allowing a single patch of skin to show. 

"Hey!" Draco shouted furiously, finally finding his voice again. "Get away from my son!"

The woman recoiled, removing her black leather-gloved fingers away from Scorpius's tummy. But she didn't move away from Scorpius, and Scorpius didn't appear to be frightened of her either, as he was with all of the other Death Eaters who frequently visited. He stopped laughing, though his brown eyes stayed latched to her, absolutely mesmerised by her. 

Draco narrowed his eyes, watching her closely as he sneakily opened his bedside table and withdrew his wand, laying next to Hermione's he'd kept in case she were to attack. The woman gripped the edge of the cot with both of her small hands as she slowly turned her head in Draco's direction. 

To say that he was taken aback was an understatement. Her mask was crafted differently than everyone else's, including his own, as their eyes met. Polished gold-plated and in the shape of a fox's head moulding around her face perfectly. But Draco couldn't focus on the fine details of her unique mask, because the eyes beneath it staring back at him with a blank, penetrating stare caused his breath to hitch. 

Deep chocolate brown coloured. The eyes, eerily similar in colour to Hermione's, hatefully glared at him beneath the gold mask. That was impossible. He was seeing things, the lack of sleep making his brain see things that weren't there. Hermione was dead. It wasn't her; he'd watched her die through the eyes of Scorpius over and over again until he'd passed out. Brown eyes were common, but for a short split second he could have sworn those eyes belonged to her. 

How had she gotten in here in the first place? It was only then that Draco realised his balcony's doors were wide open.

Shaking it off, Draco's hackles rose as he aimed his wand directly over her chest, giving her one chance to back off. 

"Get away from my son," Draco threatened lowly. "Now." 

She didn't move. Her eyes narrowed in on him, cold and calculating. Draco shifted his eyes to Scorpius, startled to see him fussing and trying to reach up to touch her hand, which was gripping the cot in a death grip. Why couldn't he see that she was dangerous and not friendly? Something felt off to Draco about this as he met her punishing stare again. Something wasn't right here. 

The woman then released her death grip on the cot and sprinted towards the balcony. Draco chased after her to find out who she was and what exactly she wanted, but as he got close enough to touch her shoulder as the cool summer night air hit his face, she apparated away just as his fingertips brushed her soft, shiny hair. He skidded to a stop in the middle of the balcony, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind raced, trying to understand what the fuck had just happened. 

Who was she? Why had she turned up uninvited and played with his child while his back had been turned? And why did Draco strangely feel as though he could trust her all of a sudden?

She hadn't hurt Scorpius; she'd made him laugh instead of scream for protection to get away from her. She hadn't reached for her wand to defend herself, but she hadn't exactly looked at Draco like she was keen on his presence disrupting their moment.

Draco struggled to understand any of it as he walked back in with furrowed brows, shut the doors, warded them off and checked in on Scorpius, who was surprisingly sound asleep and sucking his thumb with a little smile on his lips and hugging his ferret toy again.

Draco didn't sleep for the rest of the night, as he sat there on the edge of his bed until morning broke in through the windows, dumbly staring at the space where the strange and new mystery Death Eater had been tickling his grieving son.