Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This was supposed to be his year.

“Pl-please!” the groveling worm writhed on the floor. His hands stretched forward, smearing blood all over his expensive dragon-hide shoes.

But no.

“You should’ve thought of that before you stole from us,” Draco sneered as he kicked the hands away. His voice dripped with his high society upbringing- even if he wasn’t doing high society things at the moment.

“I have to feed my-my family,” the wizard pleaded.

The word twisted in his chest. Family. Draco had a family, which included his mother and father. But he wanted more than that. He wanted his own family. A little wife and a child. But no. His betrothed decided to run away this year. Something about how unfair it was for her to be saddled with a psychotic human being or some rot.

Draco crouched down to the worm’s level. His eyes gleamed with devastating violence and dark magic. His tongue clicked before speaking, “You stole a hundred thousand galleons' car to feed your family? Who were you even going to sell a magically enhanced Muggle Bentley to?”

That was the problem with a lot of petty crime. It was illogical. Once the truth of it all came out, the sniveling cretin would sing like a canary. But it didn’t matter to Draco. He wasn’t there for the truth. He was there to be an exactor for his father.

Growing up, he was a menace to the British Wizarding Society. Stealing, vandalizing, and general tomfoolery plagued all the Alleys. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had no choice but to send Draco away to Durmstrang, hoping that the cold institution would reform him. When he returned five years ago, they received a quiet, sharpened battle axe (his Durmstrang house).

But underneath his silent violence, Draco yearned for something to fill the void in his chest. He thought it would’ve been solved when he executed his betrothal to Astoria Greengrass. But when she ran away from home, leaving him at the metaphorical altar, he felt annoyed. Annoyed that he couldn’t cure this feeling. A feeling that he was sure would be cured with a family of his own.

“Look, I was only doing as told. Macnair—”

“Macnair? What does that old codger want with a Muggle car? He hates anything that has to do with Muggles,” Draco sneered. 

“I don’t know!” A coughing fit hit the wizard, spluttering blood all over Draco’s shoes. A swift kick to the side stopped him. But it caused more blood to splatter on Draco’s pitch-black trousers.

Draco grasped the sandy blond by the top of his head and pulled his face closer. “Where are the keys to the car, Mclaggen?”

The wizard stilled.

“Oh, yes. I know who you are, Cormac McLaggen. You were in Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Your father, Carson McLaggen, is the deputy director in Contract Services. The same department you work in. You live alone, close to St. Mungo’s. Which will be convenient for you after all this.” The whole time Draco spoke, he played with his butterfly knife, a gift from his friend Kento before he left Tokyo earlier this year.

“Please, please. The keys are at my flat. Take it back. I’ll leave. You won’t see me ever again,” McLaggen begged. His shaky hands reached for Draco to still the movements of his knife.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. I’ll just peel your skin. Think of it as a lesson. You will remember that Malfoys don’t mind getting their hands dirty.”

The work of the Malfoy exactor was normal, day-to-day tasks. Bloody, violent, and dehumanizing. Those were the traits that would characterize what Draco did for his father’s empire. Five years into his career, he didn’t seem to feel anything. His emotions were carefully locked away behind a frozen sea. From time to time, the choppy waters threatened to expose them. But at this point, they were so rare that he didn’t acknowledge his feelings. His mind would just freeze over again, anyway.

“Happy Christmas, Draco.”

Draco looked up as he took a drag from his cigarette. A Muggle habit that he couldn’t kick from his early days at school.

“Theo,” he said coolly. He pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch. “It should be Happy Boxing Day.”

The start of the liminal space between Yule and the new year. A time in which Draco had always felt nebulous. Though the only time he didn't feel lost was at night. For years since his return from Durmstrang. Alone in his bed at night, he’d allow his mind to conjure images of a white picket fence. Phantom giggles from children invaded his mind. Smells of baked goods would fill his nostrils. Then the early morning light would wash it away. 

“Right,” his friend agreed solemnly. “Are you heading back to the manor?”

“No. I have to make a stop.” Draco flicked the butt of his cigarette to the endless dark. His breath hung in the air, reminding him of yet another cold year.

“I suppose I’ll see you later.”

Draco didn’t answer, only waving his hand behind him as he walked away. Eventually, he spun away, landing in Diagon Alley.

It was late out. The usual crowds were off the streets. Probably at home enjoying the afterglow of the holidays. He bitterly thought of the fantasy he had thought up the night before. He had come home late from work. A faceless wife would scold him for missing bedtime with their little one. Eventually her temper would cool, and they’d fall into bed together. He’d redeem himself with his mouth, fingers, and cock.

In a blink, Draco found himself in the lift. McLaggen’s building was quaint with climbing vines in the lobby. The elevator lit with a warm glow. Brass buttons stacked in the shape of a miniature version of the building. Before the doors slid to a close, a small hand shot through the gap.

An annoyed huff blew through his mouth. He wanted to get the keys and go home. He should be on his bed fantasizing about his little wife and her wet cunt.

The doors rebounded large enough to reveal…

“I’m sorry,” she gulped. A small expression of relief colored her beautiful face. Even though it was close to freezing outside, the witch had a slight sheen of sweat coating her tanned skin. As soon as she entered the lift, she threw her body into a corner. Her doe eyes closed as she settled herself. She heaved a lungful of air.

Draco found himself rudely staring at her. Her wool Muggle coat was open enough for him to admire her floral frilly dress underneath. Far too spring for Boxing Day. Her beautiful dark brown curls tumbled over her shoulders and framed her rounded face. There was a sort of glow to her. Something that he had never seen before.

It was painful, but he wrenched his grey eyes away from her. He was being too intense. His Black Family Madness needed to be dialed back. Absently, his hand rubbed his chest. It felt uncomfortable as if an ice shelf was collapsing.

“Oh, shoot,” she chirped from her place. She reached towards the buttons but stilled. “You’re going to floor four as well?”

After a moment of calming his racing mind, Draco turned to the enchanting witch. Her large brown eyes blinked up at him. A slight tilt to her head made her fringe shift. His fingers tingled to fix the errant strand.

“Yes,” he clipped. Internally, he cringed at his short response.

“Did you just move in? Or are you visiting someone?”

Not only was Draco a terribly efficient punisher on behalf of his father, but he was also a thorough investigator. He knew that McLaggen’s building had six levels with four units per floor. The worm’s neighbors consisted of an elderly lady, a mother and son, and a couple of recent Hogwarts graduates.

Either this witch was one of the graduates or—

Before he could respond to her question or surmise who this witch was, the doors opened.

“Double shoot. I have to run. It was nice meeting you!” She dashed past him towards a door down the hall.

From his place in the lift, Draco watched her open the door.

“Miss Granger,” the elderly woman greeted. She struggled with a fussy toddler in her arms. “I’m sorry. He wouldn’t go down without you.”

“Mummy!” the little boy cried.

“Oh, I’m here. I’m here,” the witch cooed. She pulled her son into her arms, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead. She turned her attention back to the elderly witch. “Thank you so much for watching him.”

“Not at all! Have a good night, Hermione.” The older witch gripped her shoulder before mother and son entered their flat, leaving their companion in the hall.

Draco stepped out of the elevator and walked towards McLaggen’s flat.

“Hello. I don’t believe I’ve met you before.”

He looked up to see the elderly witch hobbling to her flat next door. It was a split-second decision, but one that he would make a thousand times over and over.

“I just moved in,” he said.

This news furrowed the woman’s brows in confusion. “I hadn’t realized Mr. McLaggen left.”

“He got transferred,” was Draco’s short response before he wandlessly and wordlessly broke through the shoddy wards. The door squeaked open.

Satisfied, his new neighbor entered her own flat. With one last look at Granger’s door down the hall, he pushed his way in.

“You cannot be serious,” Theo groused. His eyes judgmentally took in the garish décor. “What grown man has gold-leafed floral paneling?”

It had been a few days since Draco moved into his new home. With the help of his family’s elves and Theo, they managed to throw McLaggen’s belongings away. Now that the flat was barren of the furniture of a perpetual bachelor (there was just so much leather), he and Theo stood in the middle of the empty living room. They were deciding what to do with the look of the flat.

“Hello?” came a small voice at the partially open door, distracting the two wizards from their deliberation.

Draco found a small boy, no older than four, curiously peering into the flat. His doe-like eyes roamed around before landing on him. The sudden attention gave him a start.

“Erm.” He distinctly felt Theo sharply turn his incredulous eyes at him.

“Did you just say erm?” he asked.

“Louis!”

Draco whipped his eyes back up to the frazzled witch behind the little boy. She looked as beautiful as the first time he saw her just two days ago. Her curls had been piled on top of her head. She wore a fresh white button-up and a pair of wide-leg trousers. She shouldered a large canvas tote.

“Mummy,” the little boy giggled. He looked like her, everything but his nose. His smile was a copy of his mother’s. The slight crinkle on the edges of his doe-like eyes, the small scrunch of his hook nose.

“Granger?” Theo asked.

“Theo?” The witch’s impossibly large eyes grew larger. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping my best friend move in.” The curly-haired wizard slapped a jovial hand on Draco’s shoulder.

Distantly, he felt the bubbling of annoyance, but he couldn’t care less because she was looking at him now.

“Oh, hello. We meet again,” she said teasingly. The words stirred the ache in his chest once more. Again. He’d hope to meet her over and over again.

Her son tugged at her limp hand.  “Mummy, mummy,” he whispered inconspicuously. There was a slight urgency in his posture.

“Sorry, lovey. This is my son, Louis.” She looked up. There was a slight reservation in her voice. Almost a dare to anyone in the room to question her life choices. But out of everyone, excluding her own son, she was probably the purest person.

“Ah,” Theo said finally. His eyes noticed the defiance in Granger’s stiffness but moved down to the little boy. “Hello, Louis. I’m Theo. This is Draco.” His hand did a second whack on the blond’s shoulder.

“Dwaco? Like the staws?” Louis gasped. His head craned up uncomfortably to look at Draco.

He felt a foreign twitch on his lips before they pressed into a line. “Yes. Like the stars.”

“I didn’t even know that Cormac was moving,” Granger said. She looked around the hideous flat.

“Good widdance!” Louis exclaimed. He looked up to his mum for approval. But only found her horrified gaze.

She looked back at the other adults in the room before looking down at her son. “Lovey, I told you to keep that between us.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

As someone who dealt with many people in his life, Draco became adept at reading body language. After all, to execute the perfect torture was to know exactly what the body was telling him. And from what he could see, it was a relief to Granger that McLaggen was no longer living in the same vicinity as her.

“Yes. We’ll be neighbours,” Draco finally said, fully aware that his silver gaze pierced through her. He couldn’t help staring. She was like nothing he had seen before. A goddess among men. A being of pure light in Muggle trousers.

“Mummy! The pastewy!” Louis frantically pulled at her tote.

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” She pulled out a wrapped stack of baked goods. “It’s not much, but we baked something for you, neighbour.”

Granger leaned forward, holding out the plastic-wrapped dish. Her pretty eyes were on him. A slight tick of nerves in her face. Draco slowly reached out, afraid that he had imagined her all along. If his dirty hands touched her, he’d vanish her to the depths of his fantasies.

But when he did take the dish, his fingers did brush against the tips of her delicate fingers. She didn’t vanish. No. Instead, a light dusting of blush appeared on her freckled face. Gorgeously highlighting her rounded features.

“It’s lemon!” Louis bellowed into the room, breaking the spell between them.

“Well,” she said as she quickly retracted her hand. Her flustered face turned down to her feet. “I hope you enjoy it. If not, throw it away. I don’t mind. We have to go. We’ll see you around, Theo and… Draco.”

Granger blessed them with one last dazzling smile before ushering her son out into the hall. The pair moved quickly towards the lifts.

Draco stared after them before Theo obstructed his vision by closing the door.

“You cannot be serious,” his best friend said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Draco clipped, annoyed that he couldn’t make sure that the two got on the elevator safely.

Theo looked at the blond as if finally solving a mystery. “I had thought that there was no way you’d allow McLaggen to run away. You’re too precise, and not only that, you’re very good at hunting down people. Durmstrang education, all that rot. But now I see. You wanted to take over his flat for what? Shag a single mum?”

The sentiment snapped Draco’s cold eyes to Theo, who instantly regretted his words. “Don’t be crass, you git. What do you know of Granger?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her since I broke it off with Red five years ago. For a time, she was in Australia finishing up her Healer training. I didn’t even know she was back or that she had a kid, honestly. There was a rumor that she was with an older Slytherin. It was very scandalous.” Theo’s pointer finger tapped thoughtfully on his chin.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend. He didn’t very much like the idea of Granger getting with anyone but he saw the evidence of such an event just ten minutes prior.

“Right,” Theo said with a clap. “I have to check on my sector. Someone’s been skimming off the top of the potions. I’ll get you the name by the end of the night.” He reached for the door.

In response, Draco gave him a curt nod.

“Lucius and Narcissa should be back from their holiday by now. You should do a full report to boss man,” Theo said before fully exiting, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

Even before moving in, the young Malfoy heir knew that he would make Granger his. He’d adopt little Louis and become his father. All of this he’d do before the new year. And no one would stand in his way, or they would die trying.

“Apple tells us that you’ve been asking for furniture that has been in storage,” his father drawled. “I hadn’t realized that you wanted to redecorate.”

Draco sat with his back ramrod straight. His black-on-black suit was crisp and fresh from the cleaners. His grey eyes stared not at his father but at someone looming in the corner.

“What is he doing here?” he sneered.

“He’s here because he, too, is giving me a report on the poker room,” Lucius cut in, drawing Draco’s eyes.

“Yes, there’s much to discuss,” the Italian said without a care in the world. “I’m not here to spell out some sort of doom for you.”

“Fuck you, Zabini!” he snarled.

Even though he had had control over his emotions ever since his time at Durmstrang, the Italian wizard usually brought out the worst in him. Ever since knowing him, Blaise Zabini would share his Seer abilities, unsolicited. Oftentimes, telling Draco that his choices in life led to disaster. Earlier that year, Blaise warned him of going to Japan to visit Kento. Of course, he didn’t heed his warnings. When Draco came back, his fiancée had absolved the contract, leaving him without a future bride.

“Don’t mind him,” his father cut in. “Now talk.” From the steeple of his hands and his boredly arranged face, Lucius was onto him. But he prepared for this scenario.

“I’ve realized that things have run deeper than Mclaggen,” he smoothly lied. “I found interesting things in his flat.”

With the flick of his wrist, Draco conjured a filing box. It unceremoniously fell onto his father’s desk with a thump. An annoyed tsk sounded from Lucius, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out and pulled off the top of the box, revealing the neatly filed contents inside. Unimpressed, the older Malfoy looked up.

“Give me the headlines,” his father demanded. His time was too precious to read through paperwork.

And he did. He told his father that McLaggen had somehow fooled the guards. Maybe it was a Confundus charm (or Draco’s Confundus charm). He ran away in the night, never to be seen again (Draco knew exactly where he was hiding out: A tiny magical town on the edge of Scotland and England. His Uncle Tiberius had connections out there). As such, Draco became suspicious and decided to search his flat. He found incriminating documents regarding the building of a factory. Macnair wanted a piece of their magical conversion business. That was why the worm had stolen the Bentley, so they could deconstruct the magical components.

“Did you find the car?” Lucius asked after Draco had finished.

“It’s at Mclaggen’s flat, but the component is missing.” The thing that made it run on magic. The thing that Lucius had painstakingly kept under wraps so that the Malfoys were the only ones who would sell converted luxury cars to the magical world.

“What’s the timetable for recovery?” his father said with the utmost control.

“There was a note recovered. I was able to code-break it.” Someone from Durmstrung had sent a jumbled message about a handoff later that night. Draco would be there and punish those who dared to steal from the Malfoys.

“I see. And what does this all have to do with you asking for furniture?” Lucius Abraxas Malfoy was not one to give up a bone. His grey eyes dared his son to make up a lie.

“I’ve decided that twenty-four is old enough to strike out on my own. Plus, I have a feeling more people will turn up at Mclaggen’s flat. If all the evidence of his misdeeds just strewn about was anything to go by, I think the best place for me to be is to stay in his flat,” Draco said coolly.

“Right,” his father drew out the word.

“If that is all,” the younger Malfoy said as he stood, buttoning his black suit jacket, “I have some furniture shopping to attend to.”

“Draco,” Blaise said smoothly.

He stilled, bracing for the worst.

The Italian wizard owlishly blinked at him before speaking. “Your move will cause hardships for the little witch, but inevitably it’ll bring you two closer.”

Without checking to see if his father understood Blaise’s riddle, Draco left.

It took no time for his family’s elves to locate and transport the necessary pieces for his new flat. All the while he watched his new home being assembled, Draco anxiously waited for mother and son to arrive home. Something about Blaise’s words unsettled something within him. From his observations, they usually came home late in the evenings.

“Hello, Mr. Dwaco!”

After exhaling a sigh of relief, Draco looked up from locking his door to find the small Louis running up to him with his mum trailing behind him. He made a concerted effort to keep his attention on the little boy and not stare intensely at the pretty witch behind him.

“Hello, neighbours.” It was then that he allowed his eyes to lazily drift up to Granger. Folded in one of her arms was a lime green robe.

“Hi,” she said slightly breathlessly. “You must be heading out. We won’t keep you—” Her hands grasped her son’s shoulders, starting to guide him towards their door.

“Just coming in?” he asked, hoping to keep her with him for a bit longer. The sensation he felt every time she was around him sparked in his chest.

“Mummy is a Healwah at the hospital. She picks me up late from daycawe,” the child pouted.

Guilt played over her face. “I said I was sorry, lovey.”

The strangest of urges threatened to emerge within him. Draco wanted to pull Granger into his arms and soothe her anxiety. Tell her everything would be okay. Her son would forgive her because she worked so hard to provide for him. Though in his fantasy, he’d be the one to pick up Louis. Possibly stop to get a bit of hot chocolate. They’d keep that a secret from his mum, though. Granger seemed to be a no-nonsense sort of parent.

Before he could stop himself, Draco said, “If you need anyone to pick up Louis, let me know.” Inwardly, he cringed at the offer. He had never extended help to anyone, especially strangers. But his internal madness wanted to ingrain himself into her life. Make it almost impossible for her to expel him from it.

“Oh,” she chirped. A small frown of confusion made its place between her eyebrows. “Erm. Thank you, Draco, but—”

“Weally? Can he, mummy?” the little shrieked in excitement. His little body vibrated enthusiastically.

“Lovey, let’s talk about this later, alright?” Granger said. She twisted her long sleeve in anxiety. “I’ll let you go, Draco. We can talk later.”

As much as he felt he may have overstepped, Draco didn’t care. He opened a possibility for more between them.

“Bye-bye, Mr. Dwaco!” The little boy waved as his mother guided him towards the door.

He just watched stoically as they entered their flat. Right before the door closed, he got a glimpse of Granger’s flushed face. As soon as he was out of sight, Draco released a breath. He rubbed his chest, hoping for the tightness to contract. Before he left, he sent a stronger ward against their door.

Outside the building, he found Theo. Someone had been speaking to him, but left as soon as Draco stepped out.

“Who was that?”

Theo looked up, wiping away the concern from his face. “An old schoolmate.” He pushed off from the wall. “Ready?”

Draco took an assessing look at his friend one more time before nodding.

The two of them landed on foggy docks, the location of the supposed handoff. The component was currently in the hands of two henchmen. They needed someone with deeper magical intelligence to break down the build. Macnair planned to copy the magic and mass-produce magical cars, eclipsing the Malfoys’ more exclusive model of just expensive, enhanced vehicles.

The person to do the analysis would be coming from Eastern Europe. Someone of Durmstrang origins.

“You think they’d show?” Theo whispered as they settled behind some crates.

“Yeah, they would. You know Crabbe and Goyle, lazy asses,” Draco sniffed.

“Probably wet the bed realizing they overslept their alarm,” his friend snickered, his eyes lost in a memory from Hogwarts, no doubt.

The thunderous sounds of Apparition pulled their attention. Draco looked beyond the wood to find five wizards dressed in cloaks. He recognized all but one of them.

“Who are the three?” Theo asked, lowly.

“I know Flint from Durmstrang and our old professor Dolohov, but the last wizard I don’t know.” His silver eyes pinned on the mysterious man.

“Flint,” Goyle said in greeting. “Who are your friends?”

“Professor Dolohov and our friend from the Muggle world…”

The mystery wizard reached a hand out with a handsome smile. “Tom. Tom Riddle.”

Crabbe and Goyle slowly took in the newcomer. They cautiously shook his hand. Their eyes shifted back to Flint in question.

“I hear you have a piece of magical equipment that needs analysis,” Tom said through a stretched smile.

Goyle shifted defensively. “Flint, what the fuck is this? You told me you’d be doing the work.”

“I can’t do it myself, could I? I nearly flunked out of Durmstrang,” the shark-toothed wizard sniffed. “Besides, this would be between the five of us.”

“Mate, something doesn’t feel right,” Crabbe said, pulling out his wand.

“Убий ги и го вземи,” seethed Tom.

“What’d he say?” Theo quietly asked.

“Fuck,” Draco breathed. “They’re double-crossing Macnair.”

Even though the two lackeys didn’t know a lick of Bulgarian, they knew enough to sense the hostility brewing. They armed themselves with their wands, readying for a duel.

Dolohov’s hand shot out, sending a spell, but not before Crabbe pointed his wand. Fiendfyre stampeded from the tip towards the other wizards. Tom and Flint pointed their wands to corral the wildfire. They created a path straight to Goyle.

“Ела при мен!” Riddle’s wand flicked towards Macnair's lackey. The wooden planks of the dock warped and snarled as hands formed. They pulled at Goyle’s legs, causing him to fall over, screaming. The hands passed him down the path quickly, as the flames started to eat the wooden limbs one by one.

Draco and Theo watched as Flint and Tom searched the wizard. They pulled out food wrappers, Play Wizard magazines, and the Daily Prophet. As they continued to dig through the magically deepened pockets, a fiery rhino took notice of Draco and Theo’s hiding spot.

“Fuck, Draco. We gotta go,” Theo said, hauling the hulking blond to his feet.

He tried to stall to see if the double-crossers had found the component. But soon the rhino charged forward, breaking through the flimsy shield. As they spun, fiendfyre licked at Draco’s wrist.

When they landed in front of his building, Draco fell, clutching his mangled limb. He breathed curses as he grappled with the excruciating pain.

“That’s a cursed burn! We need to go to the hospital.” Theo scrambled to his feet.

“And tell them what? I got burned by fiendfyre during a stack out?” he snarled back.

He watched as his friend gripped the roots in anxiety. It was then that he got an idea.

“Theo, go to my father and report what we saw. Don’t mention the burn. I’ll be fine.” Draco nearly tipped over from the pain as he stood. The other wizard hesitated. “Go, Theo.”

In a blink, he was gone.

Draco hobbled into the lobby. He continued towards the lifts. His wrist clutched to his chest. Consciousness was an abstract idea. His blinks became heavier and more prolonged. But he felt a strange tug. His feet made their way towards her door.

Once there, he slumped against the wood grain. The bubbling purple burn had spread up his usually pale arms.

Suddenly, the wall behind him disappeared, and he lay sprawled out. His glassy, unfocused eyes stared heavenwards. He warmly smiled when he saw a goddess peering down at him.

“Oh god. Draco?” she frantically whispered. Her warm hands groped his face.

“Darling, it's me.”

“What happened?” Her coffee gaze searched his body.

With a smile, he revealed his burn. She gasped in horror, gently taking his offending wrist. Her eyes turned back up to his.

“We need to take you to the—“

His large, undamaged hand stilled her movement. “Please no hos--” He felt the lingering consciousness leave his body. The pain became so overwhelming that his limbs were becoming numb. Dimly, he felt a small warmth pulse on his chest as he succumbed.

When Draco was a young boy, his favorite pastime was to blackmail the sweets shop girls into giving him free chocolates. Eventually, as he got to his teenage years, the blackmail morphed into lascivious flirting. His tall build and handsome face (not to mention his clever fingers) could move mountains in his favor. There were times during his early years at Durmstrang in which he’d walk into a sweets shop and be handed bags of his favorites.

But then his aunt went insane and attacked his mother, leaving her bedridden.

“Thank Merlin, the attack was within the manor walls,” his father had said. What was left unsaid was how Aunt Bellatrix’s body had contorted, twisting her body to death due to the manor’s protective magic. Even so, the damage was already done. His hands pushed through his tangled, long blond hair. He couldn’t look at Narcissa’s sleeping form. “But if only I had been here. I could’ve prevented this.”

That day was the day Draco locked away his wants. His once degenerate ideations froze over, leaving behind a barren tundra in his mind. Instead of chasing skirts, watching Muggle porno films in the common room, playing pranks on professors, the young Malfoy heir hunkered down and chiseled himself into a weapon.

It was only in the night that he’d allow his true self to exist. His wants manifested into fantasies.

“Mr. Dwaco?”

In recent nights, he’d given shape to his dreams. Two at least. A little boy and his pretty mum.

“Lovey, let Mr. Draco sleep.”

Draco’s brows furrow, realizing that he had fallen asleep on a settee instead of his bed. His body ached from the stiffness.

“But I want to eat pancakes with him,” the familiar little voice pouted.

Pancakes for breakfast with his little family, what a perfect fantasy. He must’ve died and gone to some sort of heaven. One that he read about in a Muggle book.

“You could just eat with me, and then I’ll take you over to Mrs. Branson’s flat.”

“No, I want to stay with Mr. Dwaco,” the little voice said wobblily. A whimper escaped.

“Lovey,” the angelic female voice consoled. “Please don’t cry.”

What sort of fantasy was this? He struggled to open his eyes. With enough willpower, eventually, his lids sprang open. He saw that he wasn’t at home in either his stolen one or the manor but in a cozy flat, stuffed with trinkets and mementos. As his grey eyes traversed the sitting room, they landed on Granger in comfortable loungewear, holding little Louis. She whispered into his curly brown hair. His tiny hands grasped the sleeve of her jumper.

“Neighbours,” he rasped.

“Mr. Dwaco!” Louis gasped. He pushed away from his mum and ran over to his side.

“Be gentle, lovey,” Granger said as she cautiously approached.

A weak laugh escaped Draco’s lips as he tried to sit up. “You wound me so, Granger. It’ll take more than a two-year-old to take me down.” A teasing smirk tilted his lips.

He was rewarded with a blush and a swift slap on his chest from Louis.

“Louis!”

“I’m thwee and a half!” the little boy said with the utmost offense.

“I’m sorry,” Draco laughed. “My mistake. Then for sure you would take me down. I don’t stand a chance against a three-and-a-half-year-old.”

Louis preened at the admission. Draco caught Granger’s admiring smile before turning towards the kitchen. “Since you’re awake, Mr. Draco, I’ll bring breakfast over.”

It took some effort, but Draco was able to push himself into a seated position, allowing for little Louis to sit next time him on the settee. The little boy was chattering away about his daycare friends and the teacher there.

“Wemembah you said you’d pick me up from daycawe?” he asked. His little fingers played with the loose end of Draco’s bandages on his wrist.

“Yes, I do.”

“Could you do it soon? My fwiends keep asking me if I have a daddy. Mummy says I do, but he’s very sick. So, he can’t pick me up.” Though his eyes were focused on the covered burn, Draco could see him fighting the tears building in the corners of his eyes.

The tightness had returned to his chest. Draco desperately wanted to comfort him. Instead of pulling him into an embrace, though, he placed a hand on his little shoulder, stilling him. “Louis, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

The little boy blinked away the impending tears. He looked up at Draco with such a bright light that the older wizard squinted.

“You pwomise?” Louis whispered. His little face scrunched a bit in consternation.

“A Malfoy never backs out of a promise,” Draco said astutely. “But maybe let’s keep this between us, alright?”

At that, Louis pinched his lips between his fingers. “Secwet.”

“Alright, everyone. Pancakes,” Granger announced as she entered the sitting room. An orange monstrosity followed her.

“What the hell is that?” Draco blurted, causing the little boy next to him to explode into a fit of laughter.

“Mr. Draco!” Granger admonished, but her pretty lips formed a smile that softened the tone.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He forgot the unspoken rule of censorship around impressionable little humans.

“That’s Cwookshanks!” Louis said between giggles. “He’s mummy’s familiaw.”

The orange puffball came up to Draco’s legs. He stretched, pawing at the laces of his shoes, all before rubbing his fat body against his shins.

“He seems to like you,” Granger said warmly.

She placed the tray on the low coffee table. On Louis’s plate were bite-sized triangles soaked in syrup. Draco had a small tower of fluffy pancakes with blueberries on the side. Granger’s plate had two layers with whipped cream and blueberries.

“It’s not much,” she started.

“I already know it’s going to be my favorite meal,” he promised with a smile, causing a blush to erupt on her pretty face.

The three of them began eating. Draco didn’t speak much, unless either of the Grangers spoke to him first. Mostly, he listened to their conversation.

“Mummy, Bewt told me that he went to the pawk to fly kites. Can we go fly kites, please, Mummy?” Louis held his tiny fists together. His big brown eyes widened in hope.

“Erm,” Granger stuttered. A small tension seized her body. Her voice became far too light to be real. “But lovey, you said you’d want to watch some movies with me today.”

The little boy crossed his arms. His body fell backwards into the settee in defeat. “We don’t leave home.”

Draco watched as Granger struggled to settle her expression. Her hand frantically twisted at the sleeve of her jumper. She seemed conflicted about something, unsure of placating her son without compromising something else.

“I’d like to watch a movie with the two of you,” Draco said.

“Weally?” the boy exclaimed, shifting his body towards the wizard next to him. His face was curious.

From his periphery, Draco saw Granger’s body relax. She mouthed thank you.

Granger cleaned up after their breakfast. She administered a round of potions to Draco before the three of them settled in. The movie started to play on the screen. Louis, between them, on Draco’s good side, with Crookshanks on his lap. Every so often, and much to the annoyance of the supposed cat, he would lean in to Draco to explain the film. Eventually, the cute commentary about what Muggles called cartoons slowed. At around an hour into the film, it completely stopped.

Draco turned to find the little boy sound asleep, leaning against his arm. The sight broke something loose in his chest. He yearned for this very moment. His nightly rituals of visualization came to fruition at that very moment.

“Sorry,” Granger whispered as she pulled Louis away. Draco wanted to say there wasn’t anything to be sorry about, but he kept it to himself. “I’ll bring him to his bed.”

He heard the boy sleepily mumble into Granger’s hair as they made their way down the hall. The orange monstrosity followed closely by her. Still as a statue, Draco sat, absorbing every second he was there. He needed this to work out. No. He'd make sure this would work out.

A snick at the door and bare feet padding back pulled Draco’s attention. He looked up to find Granger’s soft gaze upon him. He attempted to stand, but she shot her hands out to still him. Distracted, he stared at her hands on his chest. The final metaphorical ice shelf shivered and broke into the abyss.

Painfully, he drew his eyes back up to her.

“No, no. Stay. I’ll bring tea,” she said lowly.

There was singing coming from the television. But all Draco could hear was the low, cheery hum from the kitchen. The sounds stopped as Granger stepped out with a small tray, a weathered tea set arranged neatly on it. She strolled casually over, settling mindfully distant from him on the settee.

Granger doctored her own tea before turning to him.

“Two sugars, please,” he breathed. Though he usually added five lumps, he didn’t want to perturb her with his sweet tooth.

Once their cups were ready, they both sipped in comfortable silence. Their eyes were on the colorful screen before them, but neither seemed to be interested in the contents of it. Eventually, Granger’s bone-tired sigh broke the stillness.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed my reluctance earlier.” She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable about the subject matter.

Before he could think, Draco’s hand settled on her restless knee. He smiled easily as he noticed her blush and that she wasn’t going to push his hand away.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

“I know. It’s just...” Granger shifted her gaze. The flush deepened. “I don’t really have other adult friends. All of them from Hogwarts are too young to understand my mummy mindset. I don’t really talk to my coworkers. And all I talk about with Mrs. Branson is Louis.”

“What about his father?” Draco asked.

Granger’s hands gripped into fists. Her lips curled into her mouth before she spoke, “He’s… He was a professional duelist. We didn’t talk at Hogwarts. Not only was he older, but a Slytherin.” She noticed his confused expression. “Gryffindors and Slytherins are diametrically opposed to each other. It wasn’t until I relocated to Australia that we officially met. He was dueling out there. After some family drama, it was just nice to have someone familiar. Then, I fell pregnant, and we decided to move back to England. I started working at St. Mungo’s, and he continued dueling.”

The tension hung over them like a dementor. A tear rolled down Granger’s cheek. Draco pressed his luck and wiped it away. Her chocolate eyes shifted to his grey ones, warming him with her benevolence.

“A few months after Louis was born, he got hit very badly during a bout. During his stay at the hospital, he became dependent,” she finished.

Draco knew the word well. Being the son of a crime lord, he had seen the results of the people afflicted with dependency. A small slice of the Nott portfolio preyed on those sorts of people.

Slowly, he was putting it together. Draco watched Granger stare listlessly at the moving pictures.

“The night that we met. You were running into the building,” he said slowly.

“He’s on the Fidelius list. Even so, I hadn’t seen him in months. I thought going to a work holiday party would be fine. But he followed me out of the hospital,” Granger gasped. Her words tumbled out in a frantic flow. “The daycare I send Louis to is within the hospital. His father’s been banned from there for stealing potions. Now that he knows that I live close to the hospital, I’m worried that he’d somehow circumvent the list. I don’t want to move again…”

Draco moved his good hand up to cup her cheek, stilling her lush lips. “You don’t have to move. I’ll be with you two, alright?”

“You don’t have to. You don’t even know me—”

“Do you work tomorrow?” His eyes bore into hers, willing Granger to let him in. To allow him to settle perfectly within her life.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered out. Her cheeks became a rosier pink as his thumb continued to rub just to the high point. Her wet doe eyes continued to stare at him, bewildered.

“That’s settled then,” Draco said before releasing her face. He settled back into the settee, ending their mild disagreement.

For a moment, Granger watched him. Her eyes tried and failed to figure his stoicism out. He hid his Black Family Madness well. His Malfoy Male trait of possession was under wraps. To her eyes, he was just a wizard attending to a witch’s distress. He allowed her to see that side of him. That's all she needed to know, for now.

As promised the next day, Draco found himself outside of St. Mungo’s in the winter night. He had just finished a cigarette when a surprised Granger and Louis stepped out of the hospital.

“Mr. Dwaco!” the little boy shrilled in childish shock before throwing himself into his legs.

The older wizard laughed, playfully falling backwards as if a cannon had launched into his chest. “Not the three and half year old! I’m still recovering.”

Louis giggled and looked up at him, lighting up the night.

“You really didn’t have to—” she started.

“Granger,” he stopped her. “I’m only here because my healer is so gracious enough to attend to me after hours.”

Before she could retort, Louis jumped up and down, pulling at Draco’s wool coat. “Up, up!”

“Louis, come here,” Granger said, her hands flapping wide.

Without a word, Draco scooped the bouncing little boy into his arms, propping his little weight against his hip. Louis looked around with large eyes. His mouth formed a little ‘O’.

“Wow! Mummy, he’s so much tallew than you! I can see so faw!” He exaggerated his look around them. 

“You never complained before,” Granger playfully groused, fixing Louis’s socks. Draco could see the small smile on her face.

The three of them set off with the little boy chattering away. Occasionally, Granger would chime in to clarify the people that Louis was talking about. Once a month, they would go to a place called the Burrow. There were other kids there.

“Mr. Weasley has a caw. I played in thewe a lot!” Louis exclaimed.

“He loves cars,” Granger said.

“I have a car,” Draco offered.

“Weally!”

“Yep. We could go for a drive, if you’d like. It can’t fly, though. It needs to be repaired,” he explained.

“You’re in it now,” she teased.

“Mummy, Mr. Dwaco is a Malfoy, and he said they nevew bweak pwomises.” Louis puffed his chest out in pride.

“Oh, alright,” Granger said. The small smile transformed into something genuine and hopeful. Yes. Draco wanted to be that hope. He wanted to be part of the reason for her happiness.

“We could go for a drive sometime this week,” he offered.

“Tomowo! Mummy, tomowo!”

“Louis, Mr. Draco might be busy tomorrow.”

“I’m free,” he said quickly. “All day.” He’d have to tell Theo to bugger off.

“Yay!” the little boy exclaimed with both of his arms outstretched over his head. Then suddenly, he threw his arms around Draco’s neck, snuggling his cold nose just under his chin.

It was at that moment that everything within Draco made sense. His fantasies paled in comparison to him walking back home with Louis in his arms and Granger by his side. He needed to maintain this happiness. He had to ensure that these two people in his life would stay there.

Later that night, in his own flat, Draco pulled out his two-way mirror to contact Theo.

“Theo,” he started.

“Mate, your father’s livid that you haven’t checked in with him.”

“You told him that I’m hunting down Tom Riddle, right?”

And he had been. While Granger and Louis were away during the day, Draco had been tracking the mysterious wizard. Since he knew the magical signature from the docks, he had a lock on the person. The only problem was that his magic was widespread. It lingered and touched so many parts of the UK. Draco nearly exhausted his magic Apparating so much earlier that day.

“Yeah, but you still haven’t found anything?”

“I have tomorrow as well.”

Since it was Granger’s day off, Draco said he’d drive both of them around town. They would take a drive following the Thames. He knew of an ancient spell using the river to find his prey.

“Sooner the better, then. Before they take it out of the country.”

Draco hummed in agreement. He changed course. “Tell me about the Slytherin Granger was connected to.”

The next day started early. Draco didn’t mind. He slept very little in general.

“Mr. Dwaco!” Louis called through his front door, his little fists slapping the wood.

He opened the door to reveal the little boy. Running up behind him was his mother, dressed in a knit sweater dress and coat. A slightly exacerbated expression settled on her pretty face.

“Sorry,” she said, her nose scrunched up.

“Not at all,” Draco replied through a grin. “You two are just in time.”

He delighted in seeing Granger take in his attire. He was dressed in his most casual black trousers, a button-up, and an onyx cashmere cable knit jumper. The black had always sharpened his best features. Her eyes shifted beyond him.

An overindulgence of breakfast placed itself on his coffee table.

“I made breakfast,” he supplied

“Oh!” she chirped. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“I was feeling marvelous this morning, Granger,” Draco said. He pulled up his formerly marred hand and flexed it. Whatever potion regimen she had him on got him to near a hundred percent.

The three of them settled around their meal. Granger put together Louis’s plate. In turn, Draco had made hers. The little boy’s attention was on the wizard the whole time, expressing how excited he was to ride in his car.

“We could’ve come eawliew, but mummy was putting on makeup,” the boy huffed. “She nevew puts on makeup.”

“Louis,” she seethed, an embarrassed blush blooming on her face.

“I agree, Louis. It is a waste of time. Your mum is so pretty, she doesn’t need it,” Draco said solemnly. Internally, he loved seeing that her face was deepening in color.

After breakfast, the three of them bundled up for the late December weather. Draco shuffled them down to the Muggle side of the streets, where McLaggen had parked the stolen Bentley. When they came upon it, Granger gasped. Louis ran up to it, pawing at the body in awe.

“This is your car?” Her eyes gave the slick black sedan a once-over. “I knew McLaggen was lying,” she hissed.

Draco looked at her sidelong. “Oh, really?” The worm had tried to showboat a stolen car to Granger.

“He told me he recently purchased it and wanted to give me a ride. Told me to get someone to babysit Louis.”

“What a worm,” he breathed.

“Block me so I could transfigure a car seat,” she said as she pulled out a handkerchief. Draco watched as she transfigured it into a small child safety chair. “Louis, come on, lovey.”

After Granger settled the boy in the back, she buckled herself into the passenger seat. As Draco pulled out from the curb, she turned on the radio. Louis delightfully sang along to whatever pop song was on.

“I don’t think I’ve asked how you came to our little building,” Granger broached as her son was distracted by the moving scenery outside.

“I knew McLaggen through a mutual. I heard he was relocating, so I offered to take over the lease. I needed to move out anyway. I can’t be a twenty-four-year-old still living at home.” A wolfish grin made its home on his face. “Especially if I want to settle down with someone.”

Granger blushed and cleared her throat. “I’m glad, actually. I couldn’t stand his leering at me. I’d reject his every pass at me. And he ignored the fact that I’m a mum.” She turned her solemn gaze to the window. “Not many wizards accept another man’s child.”

Draco’s hand gravitated towards Granger’s clenched fist on her lap. He enveloped it, trapping it in his grasp. She turned to him in surprise.

“I say a true mark of a man accepts both the mother and son,” he said. Under his hand, he felt her shiver.

“Is-is that a promise?” she whispered, fear coating every syllable.

“That’s a promise.” Draco’s hand pulsed before releasing.

They stopped in a small village to pick up sandwiches before making their way towards the river. It had snowed the night before, making the surroundings fluffy and picturesque. Draco held Louis on his hip to prevent the little boy from falling into the fresh snow. Their whole walk to find the perfect picnic area, Louis chattered.

“Can we always wide in youw caw, Mr. Dwaco?” His hopeful brown eyes pinned on the blond.

“Whenever your mum says you can.” Draco’s eyes shifted to the mum in question. She had had a smile on her face since the car ride. Something in her became lighter and effervescent. He wanted to bottle it up and drink it every day with his coffee.

“As long as Louis remembers to brush his teeth at night,” she responded.

“Oh, man!” Louis groused, dramatically slapping his little palm over his eyes. His knit cap became skewed.

“You heard your mum,” Draco said, thoughtfully fixing his cap. As he turned his head, he caught Granger smothering a smile.

The day consisted of snowball fights, thoughtful observations of clouds, delicious sandwiches, and, of course, hot chocolate. Eventually, the day’s festivities wore the little boy out. As Draco guided Granger to the car, he patted his pockets.

“I think I dropped my wand during the Granger onslaught,” he whispered, making sure not to disturb the sleeping boy. He handed her the keys. “Keep the car running. I’ll be right back.”

Granger nodded before slipping into the back to sit with her son. She pulled off his knit cap, stroking his curls. It took all of his willpower to tear himself away from the scene. He wanted to be there to hold her. Be the one who stroked her curls, whispering promises of more snow days together. But he had a job to do. The quicker he found Riddle, the quicker he’d settle back into Granger and Louis’s life.

Draco turned his cold gaze towards the frozen river. He stomped towards it, pulling out his wand. As soon as he was at the edge of the river, he began etching runes into the ice.

“Древните води намират плячката ми,” Draco breathed, pouring his magic into the spell. His mind pictured Tom’s magic signature. But the river demanded an offering in return for the wizard’s location. He found that waterways didn’t enjoy blood as much as soil did. So, he offered the remaining baby teeth he had left.

As soon as he dropped them onto the runes in the ice, the river stirred, cracking the freeze. It hungrily ate up the small pieces of his childhood. In exchange, the ancient powers showed a small Muggle neighbourhood. Children laughed as they threw snowballs at each other, with adults enjoying the clear winter day. They all hadn’t realized that an ominous factory loomed beyond the suburban homes. Puffs of colorful smoke plumed out of the magical stacks, polluting the air.

Though the factory was under a Fidelius charm, the river’s ancient magic told him the location. Now he knew where Riddle was hiding.

As he pulled away from the river, something in the air told him that something was wrong. He turned his attention back to the car. His eyes widened, feeling the tension permeating the space between them.

“Fuck,” he cursed. He quickly traversed through the thick snow, leaving an angry foot trail.

“Please, Adrian. Please go,” Granger cried.

Draco came upon the car to find the witch with her wand out, pointing at a deranged wizard. His robes were tattered and dirty. Louis was none the wiser, sound asleep in the silented car.

“He’s my son! Mine! And you’re out gallivanting with a stranger?!” His wild eyes roved around. His pupils were blown out, clearly high on something.

“You are not well right now. Adrian, we talked about this. If you got clean—”

“You!” The wizard’s eyes settled on Draco. His finger pointed accusingly, shaking slightly from the come down. “You moved in on my witch and son. You’re trying to assume my role.” Blood began trickling down his nose. He must’ve snorted something.

“Adrian—” Granger tried.

“Granger,” Draco said with authority. “Let me have a wizard-to-wizard chat with him.”

“But…”

“Louis is stirring.”

Granger’s mouth snapped shut, the protest fizzling away at the mention of her son. She rounded the car and entered the other side of it. Once she was safely settled in, Draco snapped his fingers, and the windows clouded, obscuring the view from within and out.

Adrian Pucey. Theo had regaled Draco with the rumors that surrounded Granger and the wizard. Though they hardly interacted at Hogwarts, Theo had heard Pucey talking about her in the boys’ dormitory. He had a sort of fascination with the little Muggleborn witch who had her nose in books all the time. The wizard had a promising career as a professional duelist. While he was in Australia, he made quite a name for himself. So much so that Macnair demanded an exclusive contract, luring the wizard back to England.

It all went downhill from there. The bout that he lost everything at was fixed. He had to take a fall for a large sum of galleons, but the fall was too hard on both his body and mind. Upon further digging on Theo's part, he found that Pucey started to abuse potions, making Granger’s life hell. She nearly lost her job as a Healer when he started stealing.

“So, you’re fucking my witch, are you?” he seethed.

“Don’t be crass,” Draco sniffed. He moved forward. His intimidating height and bulk made Pucey stumble back. “But I am planning on it. I’m also planning on being a better father.” His voice was low.

Pucey bared his teeth in a snarl. His wand appeared in his shaking hand. As a spell started, Draco sent him a wordless hex, disappearing the wizard’s lips. Then he sent a petrification curse before leaning in.

“Now that I’ve shut you up, Pucey, I’m going to make you a promise. I’m going to be the best father to your son. I’m going to love him even more than you could ever manage to. He’s never going to know pain or suffering. He will want for nothing and be my heir, along with the children I plan to put in Granger. And there will be nothing you can do about it. You know why?” Draco looked at him sidelong, knowing full well that the wizard couldn’t respond. “Because if you come any closer to them again, I will kill you. I will do it in front of Granger and Louis, if I have to. But you will be dead. In fact, don’t even think about them.” Draco carefully brushed his hand over the wizard’s shoulder. “Now, I’m letting you live right now as a courtesy. Don’t make the same mistake again.”

As Draco gave him a tap on the shoulder, the spell released, causing the wizard to tumble backwards onto his ass.

“Fu-fuck!” Then Pucey was gone.

The ride back home was silent. Granger opted to sit with her son in the backseats. Every so often, Draco would catch Granger wiping away a tear.

Eventually, they found themselves back at her flat. Draco sat on the settee, waiting for her to finish settling Louis into bed. She quietly padded out into the sitting room. Her face was still pinched from the confrontation earlier.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she said, her hands twisting at her sleeves.

“There’s nothing to say sorry about.” He reached out to her, tugging at her wrist. She easily fell into him. His hand found her cheek. “I told you before, Granger. I accept both of you, and everything that comes with it.”

Granger’s breath hitched at his admission. “But we hardly know each other.” Her words sounded hesitant, but her body spoke as if they knew each other in a different time. Her breathing ghosted his lips as she leaned closer. Her deep brown eyes searched for a lie on his face. All she would ever find was the truth.

“I like you, Granger. Very much. If you’d have me, I’d like to be a part of both your lives,” he said easily.

He leaned forward and took her lips. Claimed her as his own. His hand moved her face in a way to deepen the kiss. After a few moments, he licked the seam of her lips, requesting access. She pulled away, gasping for air.

“Erm, I haven’t been with anyone since Adrian. I-I might not be very good. I’ve only been with one person. Erm.” The more she talked, the redder she became. The more he fell in love with her.

Draco’s lips pressed once more on hers. He leaned back, his eyes shifting between her blown-out eyes. “All you need to do is take me to the bedroom, and I’ll take care of the rest, alright?” He tilted his head curiously.

After a moment, she stuttered a nod. Her hand fell into his, and she led him to her room. Once the door snicked shut, she sent a silencing and locking charm. When she saw him smirking at her, she averted her eyes in embarrassment.

“That was a smart idea, baby. I’m hoping you’d make lots of noise for me. And we don’t want to wake Louis.” He pulled the cashmere jumper over his head, mussing up his carefully laid white-blond hair.

Granger nervously laughed before giving him a sharp nod.

“Come here,” he softly demanded.

Without hesitation, she came to him, her head shyly downturned. His finger pushed her chin up so he could kiss her. His hands moved to the hem of her knit dress. They only pulled away to fully remove her clothing. His eyes scanned down to find her wearing a simple grey cotton set. Nothing risqué but altogether arousing. There was evidence of her motherhood. Stretch marks along the sides of her stomach, around her hips, breasts, and thighs. Her hands itched to cover her body. But he stilled them.

“Fuck, Granger. You’re perfect.” He continued to kiss her, willing her to forget her insecurities.

Before long, he completely stripped her, laying her naked body on the bed. She leaned on her elbows, flushed and dreamy-eyed. She watched as he stripped himself of the last of his vestments. His cock bounced up as he pulled off his pants. He caught her eyes widening a bit in nerves.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll get you ready for me,” he promised before kneeling between her legs. His hands pushed her knees apart.

“Erm, Draco. I didn’t prepare for this,” she said shyly.

“I used to eat lollies straight from the rug. I don’t mind.”

Before she could argue, he pressed his face into her core, her curls tickling his nose. His enthusiastic licking eviscerated any lingering coyness from her. She writhed and moaned as he continued his assault on her clit. He struggled to prevent her legs from squeezing around his head. As she became wetter, Draco slid a finger into her, causing her to buck. Soon, a second finger followed. Until finally, a third snuggly fit inside of her. As he licked circles, his fingers curled and pressed along the wall.

With a great wail, Granger came.

“Pl-please, Draco. Inside. Inside of me!” she mumbled incoherently.

“With pleasure,” he said, wiping away her slick from his mouth. He crawled over her, the tip of his cock touching her entrance. Slowly, he pressed forward. With every moment, he felt her stretching around him. It was so perfect that he nearly blew. With all the mind magic he had, Draco controlled his dire need to come inside of her. He needed to bide his time.

“Fu-fuck, Draco. You feel so good,” she whined.

He swallowed as soon as he bottomed out. His head rested on her shoulder. He sucked in a breath before thrusting into her.

No amount of fantasizing could compare to the real thing. Him inside Granger. The witch that fulfilled every one of his wants and needs.

“Draco,” she whimpered. Her hazy eyes scrunched. Her hands shook as they gripped his shoulders.

“Alright, baby. I’ve got you,” he said as his hand traversed over the curves of her body. His fingers traced the marks and dimples on her skin. Eventually, finding her clit once more. He rubbed her, stoking a frenzied fire. It didn’t take long before she came. The pulsing was so alluring, but he did the right thing.

Granger groaned as he pulled out. He stroked himself to the finish, painting her body with his seed. The Black Family Madness hidden in his mind whispered that someday soon he’d come inside of her. They’d make a sibling for little Louis.

Once he was spent, Draco leaned down to kiss her once more before rolling beside her. He wandlessly vanished the evidence.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Granger said, pressing her hands to her face.

“We could do it again, if you’re that unsure.” He found a stray curl and twisted it around his finger.

Through a gap in her fingers, she looked at him. “I mean, I’m usually very careful about everything. But being around you makes me… reckless.”

Draco smirked as he leaned into her. “Is that so bad?”

“For me, yes. It’s not just me, Draco. It’s Louis, too.” Her cute, worried face made the affection in his chest grow.

“I promise you, Hermione. I want this with both of you. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What if you grow tired of me-of this life…”

“I’ve been fantasizing about this life for a very long time. I want it. I want it all, alright. Please depend on me, darling.” As he spoke, he could see Granger’s shoulders relax, accepting his word as truth.

As soon as his feelings were made known, they continued their romp into the wee morning. After a few rounds of worship, they fell into each other’s arms, exhausted.

“Ahh! Mummy! Mummy!” The frantic calls woke Draco up. He shot out of bed before Granger could register the commotion. He conjured appropriate clothes to cover himself. And pushed through the door, making sure to obscure his naked mother inside.

“Mr. Dwaco?” Louis gasped with his eyes open wide as he stared up at him.

“What’s wrong, Louis?” Draco tried to calm his voice, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to vanquish whatever was disturbing the boy.

“Someone is in the sitting woom.” His little pudgy finger pointed down the hall.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed as he closed the door behind him. He pushed Louis into his legs, protectively. They both slowly approached the sitting room to find…

“Apple,” the blond wizard breathed, relaxing in his stance. “What are you doing here?”

“Young Master Malfoy.” The house elf bowed lowly. “Master Malfoy requests your audience.” His eyes shifted between the tall wizard and the curious little boy at his knee.

“Oh,” he said, remembering his manners. “This is Louis. Louis, this is my family’s elf, Apple.”

“You have a family elf?” Granger testily asked from behind them.

He turned to find the most beautiful witch in a dressing gown, standing with her hands on her hips. Her curls were wild from the humid activities of the night before.

“Mummy! This is Apple. Apple, this is Mummy,” Louis said, affecting his voice to sound similar to Draco.

“How do you do?” the elf said with a bow. It was clear to Draco that Granger didn’t particularly like the idea of indentured servitude. But they could work that out later.

“Granger, I have to go. But I’ll be back later.”

“Weally? You pwomise?” Louis gasped.

Draco knelt in front of the boy, ruffling his head. “I will be back.”

In his frenzied excitement, the little boy threw his chubby arms around Draco’s neck. He whispered plans for their night together. Draco’s eyes lazily drifted back up to Granger, who tried to stifle her smile. She caught his eye and turned towards the kitchen.

Hidden away, Draco floated towards her. He could hear Louis chattering away with the house elf.

“Granger, you know I’ll be back, right?” He had to make sure she knew. She could depend on him to always keep a promise.

After a contemplative moment, she nodded. The worry of miscommunication melted away from them. To seal his promise, Draco pulled her into a searing kiss, and then he was gone.

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Lucius asked, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his son. He could tell something had changed within him. For far too long, his father had seen the quiet, cruel side of Draco. But now, his heir’s edge had softened only a touch. He looked more like a battle axe at rest.

“Father, I’ve found a witch.”

The older man steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “Is this what you’ve been up to recently?”

“More or less. But I still found where Riddle is. He hasn’t moved from his location, which would mean they’re still trying to figure out the component,” Draco said, falling back into his usual business-like self.

“Well, good.” His father took a pause. “You should speak to your mother about this witch of yours. It’d make her day.”

With a nod of agreement, Draco stood from his place, buttoning his suit jacket. The walk from his father’s office to the room where his mother was convalescing was a short stroll. During the day, Lucius would make visits, dropping off sweets that she loved.

“Draco,” she softly cooed upon his entry. A magical window let soft sunlight in. It was a wonderful, calming spring in her room at all times.

Slowly, he approached her bedside. It took him a very long time to be able to look at her scars. His aunt had used a cursed knife to slice up Narcissa’s face. The curse had leaked into her veins, debilitating her motor skills. She could no longer walk. Her hands shook, making her unable to feed herself.

With her shaking hands in his, Draco told her about Granger. He informed her that she was a single mum to the sweetest and precocious son. If he were to make it work, he’d need Narcissa’s help in convincing the older Malfoy to accept the union, change the family’s stance on magical adoption.

“Please, Mother,” Draco pleaded.

A warm smile graced her marred face. Her crystalline blue eyes softened, misty from unshed tears. “Of course, I’ll help you, my dragon. I could tell you’ve become smitten with her. Maybe invite her and her son to New Year's?”

There was a time when Malfoys would throw lavish parties, reminding everyone in the wizarding world who was at the top. But since his mother’s attack, gone were the boisterous festivities. Instead, there were comforting meals and firework displays over the warmed solarium.

“Do you think that’s enough time for Father to change his mind?” he questioned. New Year's Eve was two days away.

“Don’t underestimate me, boy. I may be bedridden, but I am the most powerful witch in all of Europe because I can control the most powerful wizard,” she said smugly.

“Alright.” He stood to his full height. “Let me get some work done, and I’ll talk to Granger.”

“Draco,” his mother said. “I’m very glad that you’ve found what you wanted. I know the years have been hard on you.”

“Nothing, I can’t handle,” he said assuredly. His hand pulsed lovingly over her weak one.

From the manor, he made his way to the Leaky to meet with Theo. They had gathered many of the wizards that were on their payroll for this siege, including the most annoying crooked Auror in existence.

“Hello, Ferret.”

“Weasel,” Draco sniffed. He still hexed Theo for revealing his animagus to the redhead.

“I get to arrest at least one of them, right?” Weasley asked, scratching at his ugly red beard.

Once they had all gathered at the Apparition point, the blond informed them of the location of the factory. He told them to be prepared for a fight.

“Expect the unexpected, lads,” Theo sang to the group.

One by one, the group spun away. They landed in the Muggle neighbourhood. It was late afternoon. But as it was the dead of winter, the streets were dark and empty of activity. The group of wizards poised their wands forward. Under a cloak of magic, they hid themselves and masked their own signatures as they stalked forward.

Weasley was the quickest to the draw with the blasting spell, blowing the doors cleanly off the hinges. Another member of their group tossed Peruvian Blackness Powder before they all donned enhanced glasses.

Even though he could see well enough through the thick black haze, Draco still squinted. As soon as someone stumbled into view, he sent them flying. It was controlled chaos as he marched his way through. His highly trained squad took out as many of the factory workers as possible.

Eventually, the Malfoy heir found himself at the door of the backroom. With a seasoned flick of his wand, the door liquified. Quickly, he dodged to the left, avoiding a sizzling hex. He sent another one, pinning Flint to the wall.

“Malfoy! That you?” the wizard simpered through a sharp smile.

“Where’s your coconspirators?” Draco growled as he pressed the tip of his wand to the soft underside of his former schoolmate’s jaw.

“Who?” The tip dug in deeper, reminding Flint that one stupid move and Malfoy would blow his brains out. “Oh. OH! You mean Dolohov and Riddle? They went out for smokes. Should be back any minute now.”

During the harsh winter months, Durmstrang students had no choice but to stay indoors. One of Draco’s favorite pastimes, other than honing his magical skills, was to play poker. He used the game to read his opponents. He studied every one of his schoolmates' tell. And Flint’s big tell was that when he lied, his ears were red.

Presently, his fucking point ears were the same hue as a ripe tomato.

“Where are they, Flint? Do they have the component on them?” Draco growled, inching his crazed face closer.

The other wizard whimpered, knowing he had been caught. His eyes flicked to the far wall. Draco followed to find an inconspicuous steamer trunk. After a heavy-duty sticking charm, he left Flint against the wall and slowly approached. With his wand drawn and at the ready, he snapped the trunk open.

Quickly, Dolohov sprang out of the mildly extended trunk. He shot a curse, but Draco quickly deflected.

“Oh, getting rusty there, professor,” Draco taunted.

Without waiting for a response, he played dirty with his former teacher and dueling coach. He threw a blinding light spell, causing the other wizard to stagger, groping the air. Then he went in for the kill. Draco struck at the jugular with his butterfly knife, slicing so deeply that the man didn’t know what hit him. Blood pooled quickly from his neck. His eyes glazed over as he fell to the floor.

Draco slowly approached the open trunk to find a crouched Tom Riddle hugging the component. His upturned face was friendly, with his hands stretched up in defeat.

“I surrender,” Tom said amiably.

Afterwards, Weasley was able to arrest several people, including Flint and Riddle. He stood over them with his wand outstretched.

“The Aurors should be here soon. You all better get out of here,” the redheaded wizard said.

Since achieving what needed to be done, Draco spun away. He dropped off the component at the manor before heading back to his flat. He quickly changed into something clean. Draco had to calm himself before he approached Granger’s home. Whenever he used dark magic or killed someone, his nerves were all a jumble. He sucked in a breath and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Louis called through the door.

“It’s Draco.”

“Mummy, it’s Mr. Dwaco!” the little boy yelled. “Can I open the door?”

There were some muffled words exchanged before the door swung open, revealing Louis’s bright smile. Draco couldn’t help the adoring grin beaming down at the little boy. He grabbed his hand, pulling him through the threshold. The door closed behind them.

Draco looked around the sitting room, not finding Granger.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked.

“Mummy’s in the kitchen. She’s been in thewe,” Louis pouted. “She told me to watch the telly.”

A notch formed between his eyebrows. His heightened senses told him something was amiss. “Louis, stay here. I’m going to go check on your mum.”

Reluctantly, the boy released his hand. It didn’t matter anyway. His attention was stolen by the colorful dancing jungle creatures.

Cautiously, Draco rounded the corner to find Granger’s tense body leaning over the counter. Her eyes fixated on a bouquet of flowers. A note crumpled from her fist.

“Granger?” he softly called.

She startled at her name. She turned her gaze back up to him. Unshed tears muddled the brown in her eyes. “Draco.” She swiped away a stray tear. “I, erm…”

As if he were approaching a wounded animal, he held his hands out. The tension in her shoulders thawed as he got closer. She relinquished her control and threw herself into his arms. A strangled sob escaped her lips.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he cooed into her hair. “Tell me.”

“He has my address.” She swallowed. “He sent me flowers.”

The words stilled him. A growing possessiveness expanded in his mind. Hadn’t he warned that good-for-nothing waste of flesh? He even allowed him to live out of some sort of propriety. And yet here he was taunting his darling witch.

“He claims that you’re the dangerous one,” Granger continued as she pulled away, flapping the note at him. “And that he needs to protect us from you.”

Draco extracted the crinkled letter from her hand. He read the short missive several times. Pucey claimed that the Malfoys were a criminal organization. And that getting involved with Draco would only spell trouble for the two of them. Granger was putting her and Louis’s lives on the line to be fucked by the Malfoy heir.

A small sane part of him knew that was true. But the more selfish part of him thought Draco was strong enough to shield whatever may come their way. He’d lay down his life for the two of them. He’d burn the world if need be.

But that would be nothing if Granger didn’t believe in him. He didn't know what would happen if she rejected him.

“What do you think of this?” he asked, hiding his tiny insecurity.

“I think it’s the ravings of an addict,” she said. “I know he’s Louis’s father, but sometimes I wish he would just go far away. My little boy deserves a real father. Not someone high and delusional all the time.”

At that, Draco pulled Granger into him. He kissed her, promising to be that man for both her and Louis. “For however long you will have me.”

“Can you stay?” she asked shyly, her fingers playing with his buttons. Her eyes averted.

“Of course.”

After dinner, the three of them settled in for another movie. Similar to before, Louis fell asleep mid-explanation. This time around, Draco told Granger to take a relaxing bath so he could tuck Louis in. He reenacted how his father had tucked him in all those years ago. He hesitantly stroked the boy’s soft brown curls. With every touch, a space within his chest grew larger.

As he moved out of Louis’s room, Draco sent an array of spells and wards to signal him when someone unwanted entered the flat. Once he was satisfied with the safety precautions, he entered Granger’s room. He stripped down to his pants before getting on the bed. She entered in her cozy pyjamas. She perfectly slotted herself into his arms.  

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Even though we’ve barely known each other, I feel like I could trust you. It’s insane. But you’re the first man I’ve met that seems so honest.”

“You’re the first woman that I could picture a future with. I’m just sorry that we hadn’t met sooner.” His hold tightened.

“I guess whenever I see McLaggen next, I’ll thank him for moving,” she sighed.

Fuck. There were a lot of loose ends that Draco needed to tie up to ensure her and Louis’s safety. It was clear that Pucey knew too much. Mclaggen could pop up at any time and ruin everything. Draco would have to do what he did best. But first…

“Granger.”

“Hmm?” she hummed into his collar.

“My mother would like you and Louis to come to the manor on New Year’s Eve.”

“Wh-what?” she stammered, pushing away from him. She looked like she had been drafted on a Quidditch team against her will.

“It’s nothing spectacular. No gala or fancy dress. It’ll be only my parents and us. There will be wonderful food and fireworks over the solarium. We could stay the night as well.” He watched as she processed the invitation. A million thoughts crossed her pretty features, furrowing her brows. Draco smoothed it with the soft touch of his fingers. “Granger, I wasn’t lying about wanting to settle down. I want to do it with you. But if meeting my parents will scare you—”

“I’m not scared. I’m petrified that they won’t like me. Pure-bloods usually don’t like someone like me, especially since I have a child.”

“It won’t matter. My mother knows, and she keeps my father on a tight leash.” Draco held her trembling hands, preventing them from ripping at her sleeves. “Hermione, from the moment I met you, I felt something shift within me. I was losing hope for my future before I saw you in the lift. But now, I look forward to the coming days.”

A breath stuttered out of her. After a brief hesitation, she spoke cautiously, “Draco, I feel the same way.”

They kissed fervently and without reservation. Slowly, he peeled off her clothes, revealing the supple body underneath. She was already wet with anticipation. So, he forged forward. His cock stretched her. Her mouth unhinged.

“Shh,” he teased. “There’s no silencing charm on the door.”

Annoyed, she smacked him on the chest.

This time around, their movements were slow and methodical. Like falling in love.

With every thrust, they inched closer and closer to the edge. Eventually, they silently fell over together. Hermione trapped his hips from pulling away as he came. Something about it made his heart stutter.

“I’m on the potion,“ she said, thinking that he was worried.

Draco decided that it was not the night for him to tell her about his breeding kink. Instead, they settled into each other’s arms.

The next day, Hermione decided to clean the flat to prepare for the new year. Louis attempted to help by putting his toys into a chest. But most of the time, he would get distracted by finding an old toy that he forgot about.

Outside of that, Draco just knew that the witch in front of him was having an anxiety attack about meeting his parents the next day. She was only using the cleaning spree as a distraction.

“Darling, we don’t have to go if you feel anxious,” he said between sips of his coffee. Crookshanks weaved between his legs. He was amused to see her dig through her closet. Piles of discarded clothes sat on her bed.

“No, no. We’ll go. I just want to be prepared.” She tossed what looked like a Hawaiian shirt into her away bag.

Draco chuckled at her plight. The day went by domestically. They stayed inside the whole time, not needing to leave for anything. As he did before, he tucked Louis in, waving Hermione to get ready for bed.

“Mmm… Daddy,” Louis mumbled, stilling Draco’s hand over the boy.

“Yes,” he whispered, his hand continued to fix the cozy quilt over him. Without reservation, he pushed his hair away from his sleeping face. “Daddy’s here.”

As he walked out of Louis’s room, Draco couldn’t stop thinking about being the boy’s father. His chest ached with a foreign love. Malfoys weren’t known to be affectionate toward people outside of their wives and children. Louis was an anomaly. But it made sense. He was an extension of Hermione, a witch he loved. Therefore, he would love and cherish Louis.

“Hermione,” Draco said at the door of her room.

She looked up with a soft gaze from her book. “Yes?”

“I have to get something from my flat. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay,” she said sweetly. “Hurry back.”

A wolfish grin formed on his mouth, but he didn’t say anything. As he made his way through the flat, he sent ward after protective ward. He repeated the spells in the hall outside the flat. Once inside his own, Draco pulled out the mirror, calling Theo.

“There you are. Done playing house with Granger?”

“I’m not playing,” Draco said gruffly. “I need you to tie up a loose end for me.”

“Do you, now?” Theo said playfully.

“Mclaggen. Either you do it or send someone to do it. But I need him out of the picture.”

A sly smirk flashed over the silvery surface of the mirror. “You really aren’t playing house anymore, huh?”

“Just get it done.” He felt annoyance rise from his chest. One that heated his face. He knew it stemmed from being caught in love. It shouldn’t matter. He was done living without his wants and needs.

“What about Pucey?”

That name did something to Draco. Made him irrational. Conjured dark and depraved thoughts. He thought of possibly bringing the wizard to the Malfoy Island and bringing out the hunting dogs.

“I’ll take care of him.”

“Well then, Happy New Year, mate,” Theo said with as much brotherly affection as he could muster.

“Happy New Year.”

With that, Draco stowed away his two-way mirror. He moved through the hall to the Granger flat. He snuffed out all the lights in the sitting room. Turned off the telly. Slowly, he made his way to the bedroom. There, he found Hermione sleeping. Slowly, he crawled into bed beside her. As soon as he slotted himself behind her, she sighed and relaxed into his arms.

“I tried to stay up,” she said softly, turning to face him. Her cold nose nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s alright. You know I’ll always return to you. Always.”

The next day was a flurry of movement and anxiety (mostly from Hermione’s end). Eventually, they found themselves in formalwear (on Hermione’s insistence and to Louis’s annoyance), standing in the Malfoy travel parlor.

“Louis, how did your bowtie come undone?” Hermione bemoaned as she knelt in her lovely black dress. Draco admired her ass.

A POP sounded in the room.

“Apple!” the little boy gleefully greeted the elf, attempting to pull away from his mother.

“Erm, Young Master Malfoy, Miss Granger, Mr. Granger,” the elf said nervously. “Master and Mistress Malfoy are in the solarium.”

Apple gestured to follow. Louis twisted out of his mother’s hands, leaving her with the loose bowtie.

“I suppose we could forgo the bowtie,” she groaned.

Draco chuckled and pulled her into his side as they walked out of the parlor. “It wasn’t necessary in the first place.”

As they made their way through the manor, he made commentary on all the antiques and artefacts that the family had collected over the years. Every so often, Hermione would playfully call him a posh prat. But his favorite thing was seeing and hearing Louis’s wonder. He didn’t voice it, but internally, he said that one day this would all be his.

“Ah, they’re here, Narcissa,” his father announced upon entry.

Lucius stood with his head held high and his long, white-blond hair pulled back. Behind him was his mother, tucked into a wicker recliner. Her scared face softened upon seeing the little boy march in. Before Hermione could stop her son, Louis walked up to the Malfoys and tilted his head up to greet them.

“You’we tall like Mr. Dwaco!” he said in that childish wonder.

“I certainly would hope that I’m like Draco. He’s my son,” Lucius retorted dryly.

“Louis,” Hermione admonished softly.

The boy ignored her and continued his attention to Narcissa. He ran up to her side. “Hello, I’m Louis. My mummy said I had to be good tonight to make a good impwession. I hope you like me. I don’t have any gwandpawents.”

“Christ,” Hermione breathed. She pressed her hand over her made-up face to shield her embarrassment.

Hoping to spare her some dignity, Draco stepped forward. “Father, Mother, this is Hermione Granger, the witch I’ve been telling you about. And her son, Louis.”

“Ms. Granger,” Lucius said evenly with a tilt in greeting to his head.

As soon as Hermione pulled her hand away, she frowned. “Louis! I’m so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy.”

The little boy had nestled himself under the blanket with Narcissa. He was whispering to her, causing her to laugh.

“It’s quite right, Ms. Granger. He’s keeping me company,” the older witch promised.

“More like attempting to steal my wife,” Lucius grumbled before turning back to the other couple. “Shall we get dinner started?”

With that, the five of them settled at the dining room table under the night sky. Draco enjoyed watching his father attempt to be cordial. He watched as Hermione became looser with her tongue with every sip of her wine. Eventually, her shoulders relaxed, and she was laughing with Lucius about his political observations. Louis told Narcissa all about his daycare friends and how he told them about the snowball fight he had with Draco.

But before dessert was served, his magic flared. Someone had broken into Granger’s flat.

Draco wiped his mouth with the serviette. He looked over to Hermione and kissed her on the cheek.

“I forgot something upstairs. I’ll be right back, alright?” he whispered against her ear.

“You’re going to leave?” A bit of anxiety played over her face.

“Darling, don’t worry. My parents love you. My mother can’t get enough of Louis.” At the same time, the two turned to Narcissa, holding Louis to her side. Lucius spoke to the boy as if he were another businessman, which only made Louis giggle.

“Well, okay. Hurry back.”

“As you wish.” He left, but not before leaving another kiss on the crown of her head.

As soon as the doors snicked shut behind him, he Apparated away. He landed just outside the door, which stood ajar. He pushed it slightly to find that the sitting room had been torn apart. Everything had been destroyed. Draco’s heart ached seeing the crumpled photos of Hermione and Louis littering the floor. But he needed to steel himself if he was going to do this.

Down the hall, at Louis’s door, he heard the ramblings of a madman.

“Pucey,” he said upon turning the corner. The wizard stopped trying to break into his son’s room.

Slowly, he turned to Draco. Pucey’s eyes were blown wide from the potions he was on. If possible, he looked even more deranged than before. His dry skin clung to his lanky frame. His dark straight hair was matted. His hooked nose, the nose that Draco had grown to love on Louis, was coated in dried blood.

“Fucking fuck! You! Where are they!? Where is my family!?” Pucey yelled with all the rage.

“They’re not your family anymore, Pucey. They’re mine. I warned you,” Draco said solemnly. “If you even came sniffing, I’d kill you.”

Awkwardly, the wizard fumbled with his wand. He shakily pointed at Draco’s chest. “Aveda—”

Suddenly, Draco rushed forward, startling the high wizard. He grabbed Pucey’s wand and snapped it. With little effort, he pulled him to the ground and dragged him to the sitting room. The whole time, Pucey struggled and cried for help. Once there, Draco threw the wizard onto the settee and pressed his hand into Pucey’s neck, stilling his thrashing.

“I hope you die knowing that your former witch and son will find your pathetic body. Hermione would turn to me, and I’d shield her from the horror. And as the true father to Louis, I’d explain to him life and death. He’d probably sleep with us for a few nights. I don’t mind. My son deserves comfort, after all,” Draco said clinically.

Tears began to stream down the wizard’s face, knowing this was his last moment. Without further ado, Draco conjured the strongest potion that the Notts produced. He uncorked it and poured it down Pucey’s throat. With one hand, he covered his mouth to prevent spitting up, and the other rubbed his throat.

“There, there. Rest now, Pucey.” He watched as the light snuffed out of his eyes.

After making sure that the wizard was dead, Draco Apparated back to the manor, just outside the Solarium. He strolled in to find Narcissa’s chair pulled up to the glass walls overlooking the gardens. The tall Lucius stood next to her with Louis on his hip.

Draco smiled as he strolled beside Hermione.

“There you are. Did you get lost in your own home?” she teased.

“I was going mad up there, looking for it,” he said smoothly, pulling out a velvet box. Draco turned to her with love in his eyes. “Hermione, we’ve only known each other for a few days. But I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime. You’re my be-all, end-all. With this, I hope you know my intentions.”

He pulled the top of the box open. Hermione gasped at the sight of it. “Draco, this is too much.”

“It’s not enough.” Draco pulled the delicate bracelet from the box. It was a white-gold chain with small teardrop diamonds arranged in the shape of daisies all along the circle. Before he could wrap it around her wrist, Draco looked up expectantly.

Hermione’s breath stuttered before she nodded. Once it clasped closed, Draco pulled her in for a kiss. Distantly, he heard the fireworks ring in the new year. He heard Louis cheer, Narcissa laughing like she had years ago, and Lucius make a dry comment.

“Happy New Year, Hermione,” he said.

“Happy New Year. May this year be your year,” she said with a smile.

“It was already my year,” he responded before pulling her in for another kiss.

Fin.