Welcome Home

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/45986437.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass/Theodore Nott,
Nathaniel Nott/Seraphina Languir, Bethany Smith/Fiona Zabini, Pansy
Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Jack
Johnson/Jackson Pucey, Xander Zabini/Delilah Howard
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott,
Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Seraphina
Languir, Matilda Languir, Gabriel Languir, Bethany Smith, Fiona Zabini
- Character, Xander Zabini, Celeste Krum, Delilah Howard
Additional Tags: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort,
Rekindled love, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Soulmates, Romantic
Soulmates, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Mutual Pining, Post-
War, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Original Character(s), Nathaniel
Nott is Ginas Pretty Princess, carmen is a simp for draco malfoy, Jack
Johnson How The Heck Are Ya, It Gets Worse Before It Get Better, Lost
Love, Found Family, This is an Apology to my betas for Goodnight You
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Goodnight, You Universe
Stats: Published: 2023-03-24 Updated: 2024-01-25 Words: 33,019 Chapters:
7/25
 Welcome Home
by likelyunfinished

Summary

Twenty years ago, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger fell in love. Twenty years ago, they
fell apart. Now, they stand face to face for the first time in over two decades, ready to face the
new world they have created for themselves head-on... together. But two decades apart
doesn't erase the years in between when they learned to live the lives they live now, does it?
Twenty years is divided into 239 months, 7300 days, 175,200 hours, 10,512,000 minutes, and
630,720,000 seconds. In this second installment of Goodnight, You, we will finally get the
answers to their past that help them to move into their future.
But Draco and Hermione reuniting doesn't help the problems of the past for the rest of the
Hogwarts students who discovered their secret in the first place. Will they fix their history?
Or are they doomed to repeat the mistakes that have already been made? Because their
counterparts: Nathaniel Nott and Seraphina, are about to embark on their version of Draco
and Hermione's story.

Everything finally comes to an end in Welcome Home, a Goodnight, You story.

**all golden era characters belong to JK Rowling, the OCs are mine*

Notes

I swear I haven't abandoned this fic, I'm just in law school and stressed out all the time okay

See the end of the work for more notes

 Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He had read them. He came out and acknowledged their existence, the letters. It was
everything that Hermione had wanted for so many years, yet she stood there, staring at Draco
Malfoy as if he would disappear into thin air if she blinked. She knew that, realistically, this
was implausible – that he truly couldn’t disappear, but yet she stayed in her spot, looking at
him as if he was a ghost returning from her past. He didn’t seem to make any gestures other
than the statement he had just given; an uncomfortable tension hung between them as she
tried to catch her breath.

Why was his statement so shocking? Why couldn’t she comprehend that he was standing
there and he had read the letters she had written him? Why was this all crashing down around
her whilst he looked at her – ice grey staring at honey brown?

“You read them,” she finally repeated his statement.

“I read them.” He looked at her thoughtfully.

He was thankful that it was summer and he wasn’t just standing out in the cold of winter. He
was thankful that in any other circumstance – he would’ve been quite put off at standing
staring at a woman. That was a lie. He had no qualms with the way he looked at a beautiful
woman, and Hermione Granger, over the years, has become more beautiful than she ever
was.

“Do you…” Hermione began.

“Yes.” Draco didn’t seem to let her finish her sentence, but he wanted whatever she was
willing to offer.

“Okay,” she whispered, opening the door wider for him to slip past her.

In the briefest of moments, she could get a closer look at his face as he cast his eyes down to
stare at the floor whilst he slipped past her. His hair was darker now. No longer was it
bleached with the sun of his days playing Quidditch, but rather, a more golden hue took to his
still naturally pale locks. She had noticed the stubble that continued to grow as if he had
shaved only a few days ago, the shadow casting a more prominent outline to the cheekbones
and ridge of his jaw that had sharpened more with age. She was envious of him for looking
no older than his early thirties naturally when she had maintained the same appearance with a
strict regimen of both muggle skin care and genes.

His whole body structure was broader. As if the years had granted him the privilege of taking
up more space, filling out the build he had started working on in the years before. She had
known the contours of his body so well back then... Why was she so attuned to him when she
hadn’t seen him in so long? It was easy to tell by the way his stride covered ground that he
was as nervous She shut the door and spun around to place her back against the wood barrier
between her and outside, her own nerves showing in a shaky exhale.

“Your home is very nice,” he noted with a smile.

“Thank you, it has been a work in progress over the years,” her voice wavered.

“In what means?” he looked curiously.

“It was once a memory box; we’ve been making it airier and freeing,” Hermione said with a
smile.

“We?”

“Celeste and I.”

There was a sharp inhale of his breath from Draco.

“Celeste.” he began quietly. “Is she…”

“She’s touring Cambridge,” Hermione said pragmatically.

“It’s a good school; she’ll suit the curriculum,” he nodded his head as if he was making the
judgment call on a personal level.

“She is very bright,” Hermione said with a smile. “Any school would have been lucky to take
her application.”

“She is, indeed,” Draco’s eyes finally met hers.

“I forgot – you’ve been corresponding with her for quite some time now,” her tone was sharp.

“Hermione…” he began.

“I’m not upset,” she reasoned with him.

“You’re not?”

“I’m bloody pissed ,” she began. “But not at you, and not her. I’m just pissed at the
universe,” she exhaled.

She squared her shoulders as she faced him, ready to take on the blow of his temper that
would inevitably come. She had seen it at the New Year's Eve party – she had felt the
betrayal that he felt as he addressed her the ways he wanted to address his friends that set
everything up.

“I understand.” His tone was quiet.

“You do?”
“Of course I do. I spent a better part of my life cursing you and the universe for not showing
up,” he chuckled breathlessly.

“But I did show up.” Her tone was bitter.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean, sure ?” she looked at him incredulously.

“You didn’t show, Granger.”

“But I did.” She cocked a brow this time.

“I waited two hours, and you did not arrive.”

“I slept there waiting for you!”

“And then you went and married Krum, of all people,” he scoffed.

“Because you never showed up!”

“But I did!”

“Well, you sure as hell did not make it seem like you wanted to be around when I wrote you.
Did you wait until recently to read the letters? Did your temper tantrum at New Year’s finally
propel you to open them?” she snapped.

“I didn’t know they existed until a month ago!”

“That’s rich,” she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” his tone sounded like he had been hit with a blow to the chest.

“I don’t,” she crossed her arms.

“That’s understandable.” He was far too pragmatic about this.

Why did she want to fight him? Why was she predisposed into wanting to be clawing at one
another's throats until the truth came out? Perhaps it was due to the fact she had spent so long
not knowing where he was or what he was doing with his life… perhaps the fact that he was
standing in her foyer looking at her home and being pragmatic about their entire situation
was the exact opposite of what she wanted because all she truly yearned for was for him to
fight for her. In the same breath, she was happy he was here. She was happy she was looking
at him once more.

“You’re quiet, Granger,” he noted.

“I’m thinking,” she walked past him and into the kitchen before putting the kettle on. “Tea?”

“That would be good, thank you,” he sat on the bar stool to look at her.
___________________________________________________________________________
__________

“So this is England,” Jack cooed. “I thought it’d be more… green,” his eyes narrowed.

“Jack, you’re in the heart of London,” Seraphina deadpanned.

“And? I thought it would be greener!”

“Do you also think Greenland is green?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes?” he was quiet.

“Oh honey, no,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s colder than Iceland.”

“Then why is it called Greenland? ”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one!” he shrieked, causing eyes to whip in his
direction.

“I am the smart one,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Then why did you hide from the love of your life for a year and a half?”

She gasped. “You asshole !”

“But I’m your asshole,” he grinned with pride.

“Yeah, yeah, come on – Celeste will be waiting for us,” she placed her hand in his and
apparated to just outside of Trinity College.

“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Jack’s tone wavered with anxiety.

“Jack, it’s been four months, not twenty years.” Seraphina rolled her eyes.

“But what if she forgets me!”

“She won’t!”

“She won’t what?” Celeste's voice came from behind them.

“Do you… remember me?” Jack was cautious.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” she held out her hand. “Celeste Krum, and you are…?”
“See! She forgot me!” he cried.

“Celeste, please,” Seraphina begged.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help it,” Celeste burst out into laughter.

“Y-you, remember me?” he looked hopeful.

“Of course I do, Jackeroo.”

“Oh, thank god, I’ve missed you,” he threw himself into a hug.

Celeste stumbled back at the force of a 198cm man enveloping her in a hug to make up for
four months of lost time. Though she was tall, though they were all tall, there was a shock by
the inertia that the action seemed to have on her. Seraphina burst into giggles in the
background at the sight. She loved Jack. He was the perfect embodiment of those who had a
kind heart that never truly ended up hurt. He was perfect on all accounts.

“Come here, little S,” Jack pulled her in by the shoulder to the group.

“I’ve missed you both; Boston is boring without you.”

“Why don’t you move here?” Celeste broke away.

“Because Europeans hate me.” He rolled his eyes.

“We technically aren’t European anymore,” Seraphina corrected.

“Speak for yourself, I’m gripping my French passport with an iron hold.” Celeste rolled her
eyes.

“It’s just like we’re at home!” Jack exclaimed.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

“So we’re going out tonight,” Bethany spoke at the dinner table.

“Okay?” Fiona looked unamused.

“I’ve invited Seraphina, Celeste, and Jack,” Bethany spoke slowly.

“Jack?” Nathaniel finally piped up.

“Seraphina’s old roommate.”

“And they were roommates.” Fiona rolled her eyes.

“I’m just telling you this now because they’re coming, and I expect you both to be nice.”
Bethany stood from her chair and walked into the room, slamming the door behind her.

“You still haven’t worked things out?” Nathaniel looked at his friend.

“We have, but she’s still mad at my attitude,” Fiona rolled her eyes.

“You do have a bad attitude,” he scoffed.

“Shut up,” Fiona stood and walked towards the bedroom.

The truth was, they had talked it over. After a long day of work at the Ministry, Bethany came
home to a hand-cooked meal from Fiona, who had banished Nathaniel for the night. The
meal was tense, with just the conversation being them sipping on the wine Fiona had
imported from her father's vineyards in Italy. It wasn’t until Fiona finally conceded and
apologised for the reaction she had once had. Bethany apologised immediately afterward,
stating that the act of hiding who she had been talking to was inexcusable and she should
have told her regardless. Her greatest way of explaining why she did it was that she didn’t
want Fiona to think that all the hard work they had all gone through was being thrown away
for a friend who had left. Fiona sat in silence for the longest time after that admission. It was
then that they both realised they were fighting for the same thing – communication and open
emotions. So they had decided together that they would work on the things they had been
negating for the past year and a half. It wasn’t going to be perfect, and it wasn’t going to be
easy – but they were going to do it.

The three of them weren’t open with one another in the slightest because if they were, then
they would’ve known that Nathaniel had gone to Seraphina’s home shortly after she
disappeared from arriving home. He had apparated from their flat in wizarding London to the
ancestral manor in Berkshire, knocking on the familiar wooden door that he had last seen far
too long ago. She had answered the door whilst she was talking to her mother that day.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

“Yes, mum, I’ll let Nimpy dress me for dinner tonight. I know she’s been pestering you about
it,” Seraphina’s voice came from behind the door as she swung it open. “Nate,” her voice was
breathless.

“Hi,” he choked out.

“I –” she wasn’t able to finish the sentence.

“I wanted to talk,” he finished for her.

“Okay,” she muttered as she stepped from the door and shut it behind her, so they were
outside. “You wanted to talk,” she stated.
“Yes,” he replied instantly. “You didn’t leave much time for talking when you ran from the
flat,” he noted.

“It was a terrible reaction, and I should have faced the consequences of my own actions,” she
pondered her own thoughts.

“I’m dating Grace Williams,” he blurted out.

“I heard,” she looked at him thoughtfully.

“You did?”

“Bethany,” she noted.

“Makes sense. I wasn’t going to wait around for you.” There was a hint of venom in his tone.

“I didn’t expect you to,” she said earnestly. “I wouldn’t have waited around for me either.”

“What you did was wrong.” Now he was just stating facts.

“I know, and I wish there were a number of apologies that would make up for what I did, but
realistically, there aren’t. I don’t even expect any of you to take me back as a friend either;
I’ve accepted that as well. It’s the reality of what I had to do for myself, and that’s fine
because I know that at the end of the day, I survived, and so did all of you.” She looked down
momentarily before meeting his eyes.

“You really are too self-sacrificial and good for this world,” he whispered.

“Nate,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be here. You don’t have to talk to me.”

“But I do!” he shouted this time. “Because if I don’t do it, it’ll eat me up from the inside. If I
act like we’ve all just moved on and we never happened, I won’t survive. I barely did the first
time!”

“I–”

“You did the worst imaginable thing next to bloody cheating on me, Sera. Or did you do that
as well?” his tone was sharp and venomous.

“I didn–”

“I don’t believe you anyway.”

“So you came here to yell at me?” she became defensive this time.

“I did!”

“Then yell, Nate, get it all out because if you don’t, then I can’t be around you either. I won’t
go into a room and pretend everything is back to normal if you’re going to sit in a corner and
hex me with your stares the whole time!”
“I hate you.”

“I know you do,” she sounded defeated.

“I wish I never fell in love with you.”

“I understand,” her voice broke.

“I wish you never came back,” and then he apparated away.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

She stood there in silence; the crack of his apparition was louder than the words he had
screamed in her face. She deserved all of it, the anger, the condemning; she deserved it. Yet,
she didn’t know how bad it was going to hurt when it actually happened. Because as she
stood there staring into nothingness, she felt the facade she had been putting on finally drop.
Seraphina turned around in her spot, opened the door, and walked into the manor slowly. She
shut the door quietly and didn’t speak a word as she ascended the grand staircase. The same
staircase she had once descended in that green gown at Christmas time. The same staircase
she and Nathaniel had stumbled up, tangled in each other's embrace after declaring their love,
the same staircase she stood at the top and bargained with her mother not to let her leave. She
was silent as she opened her bedroom door, and she was silent as she closed it. As if she was
occluding, which she wasn’t, she stood with her back against her door and took a deep
breath.

Nimpy cracked into the room without a request, her chipper tone dying as her big eyes peered
upon Seraphina. “Missus must get ready for dinner; Nimpy is very much — what is the
matter, missus?”

“Nothing, Nimpy.” Seraphina wiped the tears that had unknowingly been falling down her
cheeks. “Everything is fine,” she smiled.

“Should Nimpy get Mistress of the house? Does missus need Mistress Matilda?”

“No, it’s okay, Nimpy. Everything is okay,” her reassuring tone didn’t come off the way she
wanted it to.

“Okay…”

“What did you want me to wear?” Seraphina smiled as the little elf went to work, busying her
with the garments that she had been dying to dress her in.
___________________________________________________________________________
__________

“So, what have you been up to?” her voice was light and airy.

“Really, Granger?” he laughed.

“What am I supposed to ask you now? What are your thoughts about having a daughter?
That’s just preposterous,” she chuckled.

“You could.”

“I could; what?”

“Ask me about how I feel about having a daughter,” he shrugged.

“Well, how do you? Feel?”

“Confused,” he chuckled.

“I understand,” she whispered.

“Excited, but also afraid,” he shrugged again.

“Afraid?”

“What if she doesn’t like me? What if she doesn’t want me? What if you don’t want me….”

“Draco,” she whispered.

“It’s a completely reasonable thought process,” he justified. “She has never known me, and
our relationship – it was a whirlwind… it all seems like a fantasy to me,” he trailed off.

“You think we’re a fantasy?” she looked at him, perplexed.

“In many ways, you are.” He looked up from his tea. “I used to go to bed every night and
dream of you. It got so bad that I hallucinated you were there for a while. I lost myself, and I
had to pick myself up from rock bottom to where I am now.” He looked at her seriously. “It
was difficult, but I did it.”

“Interesting,” she nodded

“Interesting?” His tone was perplexed.

“It’s all interesting,” she explained slowly.

“What’s interesting?”
“That it is all still about you,” she shrugged.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“In none of the explanations that you gave did you ever, and I mean ever, mention how
having a daughter mattered to you and not about how it matters to us,” she was calculated in
her tone.

“I literally said what if you don’t want me.”

“Did you ever consider the fact that maybe we didn’t need you?”

“That’s not fair,” he choked.

“It’s not, but it’s true,” she shrugged. “You never once asked me what it was like? What all of
it was like. What it was like to wake up in the morning and not have you next to me. What it
was like to give birth and not have her father next to her. What it was like to hide it from
her!”

“But you didn’t have to hide it from her! You two could have told her!”

“You never responded! You never gave me a reason to!”

“What we had should have been reason enough, Granger,” he stepped from his spot, stalking
her. “You talk a big fucking game about all the things you did as a mother. You talk about
how hard it was for you, but you never talk about how it was for her. I was the one who she
had lettered about school because she was too afraid to tell you. I was the one who got a letter
saying where she was. I’m her bloody father, and you hid it from me ,” he snapped.

“You’re no more her father than Viktor could be biologically.” Hermione stepped forward;
they were now squaring off.

“ Fuck you ,” he spat.

“That’s exactly how we ended up in this mess.” Her tone was venom.

They stood with their chests against one another, heaving, before Draco cursed Salazar’s
name and crashed his lips against hers.

At that moment, there were few things that entered his mind, one primary thought being that
time still stopped when they kissed. As if the past twenty years hadn’t flown by, he was still
able to free fall every step of the way. A kaleidoscope of emotions bubbled to the surface of
his being. Longing, hope, and misery are the primary emotions that suddenly overwhelm
him. But in the same breath, he couldn’t pull himself away. He was gripping the side of her
face with such force he almost considered he was crushing her, but when her hands slipped
around his body and gripped him with equal desperation, he found purpose in his action once
more.

Tracing the seam of her lips, asking but also telling her to open to him, he sighed in
satisfaction when she followed orders. Then, at the moment when they joined, their argument
continued. A battle for dominance between the two lovers began again. He fought for them
when he wished she would have come to fight for them, wished she would’ve found him.
Wished that all the lost time would have been rectified if a time turner still existed to bring
them back to that moment. He told her he would’ve stayed, and he would have held out hope
– he would have believed that though she wasn’t a stranger to upholding her word to people
she loved, he would’ve believed she would’ve upheld her word to him. It was a declaration
and a promise at the same time. Unfortunately, there was no time turner to make his promises
come to life. There was no going back in time; there was only here and now.

Her hands moved from his back and up towards the back of his neck, holding him close. She
tried to tell him that no matter how long she was there, she truly believed that he didn’t show
up. That he got cold feet, and at that moment, she realised just how starry-eyed she had been.
Their whole romance brought them together and pulled them apart at the same time. The love
that they shared, the quickly burning asteroid that fell through the earth's atmosphere, had
fallen to the ground, creating a crater so large that it pushed either of them to the opposite
side. This whole time they were apart was the journey that they were taking to come back
together. Perhaps along that journey around and through the crater, they had crossed paths,
and perhaps at that time, they weren’t ready to be together again. Perhaps miscommunication
was their enemy, but perhaps it was their saviour.

As they pledged allegiance and profusely apologised for their actions, he backed her towards
the kitchen counter. As his hands moved from the sides of her face and towards her hips to
pick her up to place her on the granite, he apologised with a bruising kiss to her jaw. When
her hands slipped to his hair and pulled him forward, she apologised with the gasps that left
her lips. Upon feeling his hands ghost up the exposed skin of her legs, she promised she
would be more open to him, that she would believe anything he said about his decision not to
stay. Touching her bare skin, he believed that her absence of searching wasn’t done with
animosity ,but with fear. That the fear of them having a life together would drive him away,
that everything happened for a reason, even including them falling apart then, only to come
together now.

“Malfoy,” she breathed.

“Granger,” he caressed her hair as he pulled away.

“We,” she exhaled. “Can’t.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“We used sex to fix our problems,” she whispered.

“We were young,” he chuckled.

“We aren’t now.”

“Really? You look exactly as you did the day I last saw you.” He kissed her temple.

“Okay, now you’re just lying to my face,” she chuckled as she pushed him away, hopping off
the counter.
“It’s true,” he argued.

“It’s a lie. I do not look the same,” she laughed.

“Sure, you’ve got older. We both have. But your essence remains the same – uniquely you.”
He walked towards her with a smile.

“Draco,” she whispered.

“Forgive me for not staying,” he whispered against her lips.

“Forgive me for being too afraid to find you,” a tear slipped from her eye.

“I do,” he whispered.

“I do,” she kissed him soundly.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

In a perfect story, that would be exactly how the second book would start… everything would
fall back into place, and the trauma that happened over the past 170k+ words would begin
healing. But this isn’t the truth. Because though Draco and Hermione are back in one
another's lives, there is no guarantee that anything is healed. Though Seraphina will go out
with her friends once more, she isn’t the same person she was in chapter 13 when they were
last together. It is peculiar, really, how flawed each and every one of them is, isn’t it?

Perhaps it is because these characters are a reality of life. They are the good, the bad, and the
ugly about the human experience. They are the reason we shy away from books that make us
reflect on the way we have acted. They are the ones that we have refused to admit to
ourselves that we are… they are realistic, and they are flawed. So where do we go from
here?

This second tale is a continuation of Goodnight, You in every aspect… however it is now that
we finally see those characters that I’ve forced to fall apart… come back together.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

I just want you all to know that this chapter is heavily sponsored by "Sign of the times"
by Harry Styles -- I don't know what to say other than I was down bad whilst writing a
very specific part of it (:

Chapter 2

Coming home was supposed to have a bittersweet meaning to it. In most instances, it
represented a new chapter – or continuing an old one. This was never the case when it came
to Draco and Seraphina. Budding hostility and resentment accompanied their homecomings.
For one, it was because they had left voluntarily and they remained gone for too long. For the
other, it was because they didn’t know better than to start a new life without their “other
half.”

Seraphina remembered coming home far too vividly than she preferred. She wished she
didn’t remember anything about it; she wished she had forgotten how happy her family was
that she was home. Maybe if they resented her as everyone else did, she wouldn’t be guilty of
feeling like she should’ve remained in Boston.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

She took a long breath at the threshold of where she stood now, outside her family home and
the door that was the only thing holding her back from her old life. As if the ancestral home
sensed her apprehension, it did half of the work for her. A gust of wind picked her up and
ushered her forward – edging her so that she had no choice but to place her fists on the dense
mahogany of the barrier. With the crash of her fists on the wood, a breath moment between
her placement and the opening was the catalyst for her tears.

“Missus is home!” Nimpy cried out in celebration.

“Nimpy,” Seraphina exhaled in relief as the tiny house elf latched onto her legs in an almost
bone-crushing hug.

“Seraphina?” her father's voice sounded from further back into the manor.
“Dad,” she whispered.

Her father rushed towards her with wanton abandon, his arms enveloping her small frame
into a hug that promised more apologies than the ones that flowed from his lips. He was a
chorus of choked sobs and ‘I’m sorry’ as she wrapped her arms around his back. She didn’t
hold anything against him; she couldn’t. Well, she could. She could very well hate him for
the way he allowed her grandparents to force her to leave. She could hate their upbringing
and their lack of autonomy when it came to talking to their parents. She should hate him –
but by the way, he was holding onto her. He had already punished himself enough for both of
them.

“Sera,” her mother whispered with a smile.

“Hi, mum.”

“Welcome home,” she smiled as she walked to the trio and wrapped her arms in the spot she
fit into.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

They stood there in a hug for God knew how long, the three of them not willing to let go of
one another now that they were back together. It seemed at that moment that everything was
coming back together. It seemed like she was finally home.

When they pulled apart with sad smiles on their faces, Seraphina finally spoke first. “I’d like
to unpack.”

“Of course, darling,” her mother placed her hand on her shoulders and nodded her head.

Levitating her baggage behind her, Seraphina walked up the grand staircase of the manor.
Everything was the same; like all the time she had been gone, her home acted as a shrine of
the person she used to be. Her room was made up to perfection, as it was the day she left. Her
night clothes folded neatly at the edge of her bed, the picture frames on her dresser top
littered with photographs of her with Bethany, Celeste, Nathaniel, and the Grimaud Village
group.

She picked up the middle photograph; it was from Christmas – someone had sneakily taken a
candid photograph of her and Nathaniel in the atrium dancing. She could still hear the music
if she tried to listen hard enough, the sound of him whispering the world of Elvis Presley’s
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” in her ear before declaring his emotions to her. She could still
feel his hands delicately holding her as she admitted her feelings to him as well. They were a
plague, her memories. Because though the world kept spinning, her life did not. She
remained stagnant in many ways, her emotions and her attitude, for example. The only things
that had changed were her perception of herself and her maturity in situations.

But perhaps everyone was allowed some sort of regression because as she stared at the
photograph of arguably the best night of her life – she abruptly threw it across the room.
Then she threw every photograph that had those she loved in it. She grabbed the photograph
of Bethany and her at Hogwarts and threw it. She grabbed the photograph of her, Nathaniel,
Fiona, and Bethany together and threw it. She grabbed every single photograph that included
them and threw them across the room. She threw the ones with Bethany in them because she
didn’t deserve a friend like her. She threw the ones with Nathaniel in them because she let
him go. She threw the ones of all of them together because she was the reason for their
downfall. It wasn’t until she stopped at the one with Celeste and her that she paused. It was
them as children in Grimaud Village, with smiles on their faces. This one was from before –
before Nathaniel. Before Fiona and Xander. Before Bethany and Delilah. It was before
everything went to shit… that was the one she didn’t touch; it was the one she let remain.

She fucking hated herself for what she did. She hated herself for shattering all the good in her
world; she hated herself to the point that she sank to the floor and began to sob. It was at this
point that her mother rushed into the room and shut the door behind her before sinking down
to the spot she occupied.

“Darling,” Matilda whispered.

“I ruined it all,” Seraphina sobbed.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, mum. I did.”

“There is nothing in this world that isn’t fixable. Put your mask on, darling. Don’t let the
world see your thoughts. You are strong, and you are brave, but you don’t have to let them
see how much you hurt. Heal in private so you can shine in public,” she whispered.

“That’s the shittiest advice I’ve ever heard, and Celeste’s mother gave me pretty shitty advice
at one point.”

“She told me,” Matilda whispered. “I can never thank her enough for what she did for you.”

“It was nice of her,” Seraphina shrugged. “I saw them,” she looked at her mother.

“Them?”

“Beth, Nate, and Fiona,” she finished resolutely.

“How was that?” Her mother looked at her earnestly.

“I threw all of my photos of them,” Seraphina chuckled sadly.

“I understand.”

“It didn’t go badly; Bethany and I went to the park and talked,” Seraphina explained. “Fiona
hates me – that’s to be expected,” she almost chuckled. “Nate… he didn’t say anything. But
Beth told me he is with Grace Williams now, so I understand his shock,” she shrugged. “They
moved on, and that’s okay.”

“But you’ve grown,” her mother reasoned.

“I have,” she shrugged.

“Growth is beautiful.” Matilda began stroking her hair.

“Growth is arbitrary.” Seraphina got up from her spot and began to clean up the mess she had
created.

Carefully grabbing the shards of glass and putting them on the now empty real estate of her
dresser surface, she extracted the photographs from each of the broken picture frames until
she was left with the one of her and Bethany at Hogwarts. She cast a quick reparo on the
frame it had come from before slipping the photograph back into its place – placing it beside
the one of her and Celeste. The rest, however, found a place in a box which she placed safely
at the back of her closet.

“Darling,” her mother began to ask with caution.

“I’m fine,” she assured. “I’ll be fine,” she turned and gave her a smile. “I have to be fine.”

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

He was not fine; it seemed. This was because the second she showed up at their doorstep, all
of the work he had done to save himself had gone to shit. Because the second he stared into
her green eyes, all of the emotions he had suppressed for so long came flushing back. He
wished at that moment that he had never opened the door, that he had never looked at the
angelic features of Seraphina Languir that day. He seemed to be strolling through his life as a
phantom of his past at this point. The words that people spoke contained a certain haze that
buzzed in his consciousness.

“Babe.” Grace’s voice was seemingly annoyed.

“Yes, love,” he smiled as he looked over at her.

They had been out for dinner for their ‘anniversary,’ she called it. He was never one to
celebrate anniversaries – but if anyone had asked him, it was just over the year and a half
anniversary that Seraphina left his life. It had been the three-week anniversary of her
stumbling back into his life via that damn door he refused to look at. The door betrayed him.
They had never used the bloody door until that day, and now every time he looked at it, there
was a negative connotation to it. Fuck that bloody door – he hoped that one day someone
would break it off its hinges, so he could get a new one. Perhaps he could do that, but
Bethany might get annoyed with him for ruining her flat.

“Should I match your attire for the wedding?” she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“You’d have to speak to Xander about that,” he shrugged.

“Why Xander? Why not Delilah?”

“Because I’m pretty sure Xander has more say about the attire than Delilah does. He got mad
at me when I said the two shades of blue were the same – apparently navy and royal blue are
different,” he chuckled.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“I can ask him, if you want?” he looked at her sweetly.

“Please, but the more I think about it – perhaps I should wear something different from the
colours the wedding party is wearing,” she paused. “I don’t want to end up wearing the same
colour as the bridesmaids.”

“I understand,” he raised his head in acknowledgement. “I could still always ask?” he

assured.

“That would be great, thank you,” she reached her hand across the table to grab his. “Happy
Anniversary, my love,” she smiled.

“Happy anniversary,” he smiled. It was fake.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

There were very few moments she didn’t expect actually to happen – Jack visiting her, and
Celeste was one of them. She had anticipated that Jack would visit sometime or another,
especially since she invited him to be her date at Delilah and Xander’s wedding. However,
the fact that he actually showed up was something strange in and of itself. So now she gave
him the tour of Cambridge whilst Celeste toured the grounds herself, talking to him about the
history of the school and how the program she participated in Boston was affiliated with the
research she was doing now.

Boston’s primary research was on the correlation of muggle history events with magical
history events and how the two mirrored one another or directly complimented the opposing
demographic. She found more often than not that advancements, both muggle and magical,
were of direct influence whether it was voluntary or not. The movement for indoor plumbing
came from the muggle invention first before it moved into magical households. War crimes
mirrored one another; there was no direct causal relation between when muggle crimes
happened before magical crimes – funnily enough, historically, they happened at the same
time. She had wondered then if the human at the time had been magical in some way or
another. It was a phenomenon that was hard to explain, and yet, it was self-explanatory. At
some point, the timelines converged.

“When is her tour finished?” Jack asked impatiently.

“Later this afternoon,” Seraphina explained.

“And we’re going out with your friends tonight?” he looked perplexed.

“We were invited to, yes.”

“So we’re going,” he shrugged.

“If you want to, we can,” she was impassive about her response.

“Do you want to go?”

“His girlfriend will be there,” Seraphina explained.

“You can’t avoid her forever,” he reasoned.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Obviously, I know this, Jack. I’m not an idiot.”

“Don’t get mad at me, Seraphina – I’m just ensuring you know you can’t hide,” he chuckled.

“I’ll hex your ass,” she threatened.

“Can you make it bigger?” he cheekily responded.

“No.”

“Well, that’s just mean,” he laughed.

“If I make your ass any bigger, your ego will have nowhere to go,” she explained.

“Leave it the size it is, then,” he laughed.

There was an amicable silence between the two of them before he spoke up once more. “Do
you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” she looked at him absentmindedly.

“Sera,” Jack trailed off.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered.

“You have to,” he reasoned.

“When did you become the one to speak about matters of the heart?” she spat snarkily.

“Since you haven’t spoken about your emotions to me since I arrived, and that’s all you ever
used to do,” he whispered.
It was true; they had become close, oddly so, because of the quick bonding they both
experienced by means of her opening her heart to him. It was as if when Seraphina moved in
with Jack that she found a piece of herself that she could finally speak on. She had stumbled
into his town home the day that she moved to Boston with a bewildered look on her face, not
a clue in the world what to do with herself at someone else’s home.

Seraphina had wandered into his home whilst in the middle of cooking lunch for himself,
many hours too early for the open house for roommates. It was a peculiar way he had planned
to do things, but he figured that if the person wanted to live in the same vicinity as he had to
like the place before applying for the person who came with it as well. But she stumbled into
his place with a bewildered look on her face, confused that he had been there in the first
place.

Jack almost burnt the grilled cheese he had been making at the time. The shock of an intruder
in his home was enough to send him into a frenzy. He screamed at her and then told her she
was an idiot to come into someone’s home unannounced. She spoke slowly and articulately
that she had seen the open house and assumed that it was all day. He grabbed the flyer from
her hands and pointed directly at the hours of availability. It was a hilarious sight to behold,
the two of them looking at one another as the shock came over her features – she had been
too early, and as such, she wasn’t welcome at the time.

He realised that day that Seraphina Languir, if she applied to be a resident, would be his
roommate. She would be the Jill to his Jack – even though that wasn’t her name. When she
applied under an ostentatious name, he knew she was the idiot who walked into his
townhome.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Jack.”

“Seraphina… is this or is this not the man you deemed the love of your life?” he squared off
with her.

“No… yes,” she whispered.

“And you have no intention of fighting for him?”

“I fucked it all up, Jack,” she looked at him with an exhausted expression. “I wouldn’t take
me back if I were him either; I would do exactly what he is doing. I can’t fault him for
moving on – frankly, I think I’d be better off moving back to Boston,” she muttered.

“No, you wouldn’t be,” he chuckled.

“What the hell do you mean I wouldn’t be better off there?”

“You belong here, Sera. As sad as that makes me, you belong here. It’s your home, and
though you may not feel like it’s home right now – I can assure you that somewhere along the
way, you will find that home isn’t with the place you live but with the people you live with,”
he smiled.

“But I was at home with you,” she choked out.

“Then I’ll move here,” he shrugged.

“You can’t do that… you have your job,” she laughed.

“You’re right… but given the opportunity, I’m not going to turn it down,” he pointed at her
this time.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

She hadn’t told anyone about the conversation that she had had with Delilah multiple days
prior to Jack's arrival and Nathaniel’s visit to her home. It was a peculiar meeting in and of
itself, the fact that she had been requested to meet with Xander's fiancé just a few weeks
away from the wedding. Nonetheless, Seraphina made her way down the long walkway of
Diagon Alley and into the idyllic Budino.

“Seraphina,” Delilah beamed from behind the counter.

“Hiya,” her response was quiet.

“Grab a seat, and I’ll be right with you – anything that you want?”

“Americano, please,” she spoke as she went to the one booth in the cafe.

She was ready to be ridiculed by yet another person in their friend group. She half expected
Delilah to look her up and down, then deliver a swift verbal dressing down the second she
walked through those doors. That didn’t happen, though, because as Delilah brought two
glasses to the table filled with each respective drink – the first words that came out were the
exact opposite of venom.

“I want you to make a speech at my wedding,” she looked at her pointedly.

“I – what?”

“I want you to make a speech. You’re my maid of honour after all,” the raven-haired witch
shrugged.

“I’m your what?”

“Maid of honour, and you’re making a speech.” She took a sip of her drink. “Aren’t you
supposed to be the Ravenclaw?”

“I am, but why am I your maid of honour and also making a speech?”

“Because I like you more than anyone else at the bridal party,” she shrugged.
“Shouldn’t you have Fiona make a speech?” Seraphina was still gobsmacked.

“I don’t trust her,” Delilah shrugged.

“She’s going to be your sister-in-law!”

“Doesn’t mean I have to trust her.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Seraphina pondered.

“So you’re going to do it then?” she looked at her pointedly.

“Do I have much of a choice?”

“Not really. It’s the best man and maid of honour making speeches,” she shrugged.

“Who’s the best man?”

“Nate. Is that going to be a problem?” she raised her eyebrows.

“No.”

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

“Okay, listen, mate, you have to make a speech, and it has to be funny because I swear to
gods, if my best man’s speech doesn’t make people cackle, I won’t have any part of it,”
Xander was pacing the room.

“You want me to make a speech?” Nathaniel looked at him curiously.

“Well, obviously,” Xander raised his eyebrows. “Who the hell else is going to make a
speech?”

“Fi?”

“No, Delilah doesn’t want her to make a speech. Seraphina is going to make the speech.” He
began pacing again.

“She doesn’t want your own sister to make the speech?” he looked at him incredulously.

“Well, she’s going to make a speech regardless, but she wasn’t picked as the maid of honour,
so she picked Seraphina for that duty,” he shrugged in the midst of his pacing.

“Do I…,” Nathaniel choked out. “Make one with her?”

“No.”
“Okay, good,” he exhaled.

“Why? Because I can do that, you know? A joint speech? It would be awkward as hell, but
you know what? That could be fun for everyone there except you guys,” Xander pondered
aloud.

“Don’t do that to me,” Nathaniel shuddered.

“You’re going to be okay that she’s there, right?” Xander finally stopped pacing. “She’s
friends with her, you know. Shockingly, the two of them kept correspondence,” he shrugged.

“Whilst she was gone?” he felt like the air had left his lungs.

“No, no. After we both left Hogwarts, they were friends then, and they just kept in touch. She
didn’t speak to any of us, Nate. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know that,” he scoffed.

“Good, because envy doesn’t look good on you,” his friend chuckled.

Perhaps it was bad of Nathaniel to wish that she had talked to someone in their friend group
whilst she exiled him. Perhaps it would make it easier for him to hate her now that she was
back in the country. Nonetheless, he felt an overwhelming tugging sensation that consisted of
agony and relief as he realised she had blocked out everyone.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Nathaniel began. “Grace was wondering if she could match
with me.”

“No,” Xander choked out. “Are you kidding, mate? She would look like a bridesmaid, and
she’s not in the wedding party!”

“Well, what can she wear then?”

“Anything but our wedding colours!” Xander's face was full of shock. “I can’t believe you
would even ask that,” he huffed.

“Not everyone is as concerned about wedding colours as you, mate,” he chuckled.

“You should be!”

“I’ll keep it in mind for my own wedding,” he chuckled.

“Thinking of asking Grace?” Xander sat down beside him with glee.

“It’s too early for that,” Nathaniel whispered.

“I knew within two months,” his friend shrugged.

The truth was that he knew, he already bloody knew, but he wasn’t willing to admit it.
Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t envision a long-term future with Grace.
That wasn’t to say that perhaps someday he could wake up with an epiphany to realise that
they were meant to be together… but at the moment, he couldn’t think of it. He couldn’t
imagine waking up next to her as they grew old together or going through life-altering events
with her. Nathaniel was ashamed to say that he had only experienced it once, and that
particular witch made it abundantly clear that she would not be the one to go through life
with him in the way he wished.

“Not all of us are as lucky as you,” Nathaniel shrugged.

“Someday, you’ll meet the one,” Xander promised.

“You’re going soft on me,” Nathaniel chuckled.

“Oh my gods, I am,” his friend gasped as the two of them broke into stomach-aching
laughter.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

am·bi·gu·i·ty

/ˌambəˈɡyo͞oədē/

Noun:

The quality of being open to more than one interpretation; inexactness.

So now they all existed as people who were put in situations they didn’t want to be in. Their
existence situated itself on a plane of reality whereby there was no truth or falsehood in the
trajectory of their coming story. For Seraphina and Nathaniel, everything about who they had
become was ambiguous to one another. Their stories grew apart, and by such a feat, they only
knew half-truths about one another. Ambiguous is a perplexing word to use for their story…
as for the reader, it is subsequently right there for them to see. That it becomes frustrating
when one reads about their favourite characters passing each other by day after day. For
Seraphina, she has ruined every relationship she has ever had in her life. In her eyes, there is
no coming back from what she has shattered around her. Nathaniel has picked himself up
from the ground only to potentially fall back down further into the earth's mantle.
Much like their mirrored counterparts, Seraphina Languir, and Nathaniel Nott were the
quickly burning asteroid in their own life. They fizzled up in the earth’s atmosphere as they
came falling down. The velocity with which they flew through the sky without a care in the
world was reflected as they slammed down onto the crust of the earth. Seraphina and
Nathaniel didn’t have the pleasure of the ocean to slow the fall. They didn’t have the pleasure
of time to stop their fate. That much like their counterparts, they were pushed apart by their
catastrophic fall. This time, they fell back together, and it wasn’t that they could accept their
growth because their time apart wasn’t long enough. To them, the wounds are still fresh. To
them, they still don’t know the exact reason why they fell to earth and why they didn’t
continue to soar through the darkness of the night. For then, the dark of Seraphina Languir
met the light of Nathaniel Nott – there was only so much that they could take from one
another.

But now they were strangers. Strangers to themselves and strangers to the world. Because, no
matter how badly they wanted to hold on to the person they had once been in the past, they
were now projecting into their future – a piece of history they had no control over. Because
even if Nathaniel Nott had felt the predictability of the future with Seraphina Languir, he
wasn’t sure if she shared the same sentiment. And, though Seraphina Languir knew she didn’t
need him to survive, the air was much easier to breathe when he was in her proximity.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

When Celeste finished her tour of Cambridge, the three of them apparated to the place Jack
had rented in Diagon Alley. It was then that Seraphina informed them that Bethany had
invited the trio of them to go out that evening, that she had accepted the offer for them
without consultation, knowing that Jack had an overwhelming desire to ‘experience the
nightlife.’ He spoke of their last night out, that he missed going to the bars in Boston with the
two of them, missed watching Seraphina let loose for once.

She wouldn’t let loose tonight; she would be the picture of restraint. She would dance, yes,
but she wouldn’t be the person to experience the nightlife as her friends would. She would
allow Jack this day to party the way he wanted to; he would allow them to enjoy going out
together.

“So, do you guys pregame here, or is that an American thing?” Jack looked at the two of
them curiously as he stared at the clothes he had packed. “None of these will do!”

“Yes, we do pregame,” Celeste chuckled as she walked to the pile on the bed. “Wear this with
this,” she pulled a white oxford with white trousers out from the pile.

“What if they get dirty?” he looked at her incredulously.

“Don’t get dirty then,” she shrugged.

“What are you wearing?” he looked at the both of them.

“This?” Seraphina shrugged at the clothes she had on.

“Fuck no,” Jack and Celeste recited at the same time.

“Here, you left this in Boston – I brought it back for you,” he held out the grey button down
to her.

“I forgot about this,” she chuckled. “I can’t wear it, though. It was Nates.”

“Transfigure it?” Jack looked at her as if the answer was obvious.

“Or I can give it back,” she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t do that, Sera,” Celeste piped up. “Unless you want Fi to absolutely destroy you.”

“Wear this then,” Jack held out his own black button-down. “Keep the mini skirt on, and
you’ll be fine,” he shrugged.

“That would work,” Celeste agreed.

“Fine,” Seraphina exhaled dramatically.

She slipped out of the room and into the loo to change. As she pulled off her sweater, which
had been keeping her warm, she stared at the person she had grown into. There were still
remnants of the past she had been living in America. She was still thin; it was different,
though. Because as she looked at herself, she no longer had a list of flaws that came to her
mind immediately. It was more or less appreciation for the woman she had changed into that
she won the battle with herself. She fought in the war and came out the other side as the
victor, and so as she buttoned the shirt that Jack gave her up her body, she left the last three
undone. On him, it would give a general view of his chest open, but for her – the expanse of
the top of her chest and the hints of her bralette became visible.

As she exited the loo, she looked at the two of them, a smile on her face. “You’re so hot,”
Jack swooned.

Celeste stared at her friend with a smile on her face, thinking back to a time when she would
have been too afraid to show her body in public, and now she was fully embracing it. Without
much thought, she walked toward Seraphina and captured her in a hug. No words were
needed between the two of them, a silent exchange of ‘I’m proud’ and ‘I couldn’t have done
it without you.’

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Grace watched with active eyes as they entered Jackson’s flat. First came into view was a tall
brunette with pale skin and dark curly hair. Next to her was a taller blonde man. His white
oxford and white pants made him stand out like a needle in a haystack, but the two of them
complimented one another. They had been laughing upon their arrival, the third of the group
trailing behind quietly. If she were to summarise, the man had been at least 198cm whereas
the woman was 180. But behind them was the person she was least looking forward to seeing
tonight, because even though Seraphina Languir was the same height as the woman, the steps
she was training behind made her look shorter. It was as if she was alone in the room with the
three of them, because as the two parted and Seraphina stepped forward to greet Bethany, she
was propelled back into reality.

“Celeste!” Fiona and Nathaniel rushed towards the brunette to hug her.

“Nate, Fi, you two look great,” she smiled… she had an accent, French maybe?

“Hi, I’m Jack!” the blonde grinned.

“Hello, Jack,” Bethany beamed as she took him into a hug.

She watched it happen then, her boyfriend’s eyes scanning the blonde warily as their friend
hugged him. It was only after he subsequently dressed down the man in front of him that his
eyes trailed to her. Grace had come to hate the idea of Seraphina Languir once more as their
relationship progressed. Because by the way he stared at the shirt she was wearing – or not,
since it was open so bloody much – that his eyes snapped to the taller man in recognition. She
was wearing his shirt , Grace surmised on her own.

Yet, there it was, the pain of watching the man that she had come to love stare at the two of
them like he had been shattered into a million pieces from nothing but a piece of clothing.

“Nice to meet you, mate,” Nathaniel held out his hand.

“You’re Nathaniel Nott,” ‘Jack’ spoke as he gripped his hand.

“I am,” Nathaniel spoke slowly.

“I’ve heard lots about you,” Jack smirked as he let go of his hand.

There it was again, that bloody look that he gave her. She looked like she feared anything and
everything in Jackson’s flat. As if being in there was enacting her fight-or-flight instincts.
Grace secretly wished that she would choose flight again, that she would leave the group of
them and not come out tonight.

“You have?” Fiona and Bethany both spoke.

“I’ve heard so much about all of you,” he grinned. “Everyone from home.”

“I’m surprised you would have time to talk about us but not write back,” Fiona snapped.

“Fi,” Bethany warned, her girlfriend immediately standing down.

Seraphina began to speak, but promptly shut her mouth. Good, use that bloody brain of yours
for once, she snided. “I need a drink,” ‘Celeste’ spoke as she walked past them and into the
expanse of a place she didn’t know.

Nathaniel joined her at her spot then, opting to not go near his ex-girlfriend as she hung
behind with the man she came with. He was without words as he looked at the two of them
interacting. The blonde’s concern was evident as he looked at her face. As soon as everyone
dismantled from the group of them, he had turned to her and his eyes looked that of concern.
There was a string of thoughts that eroded through his brain at that moment. She had brought
her new boyfriend to a party, that she had once said she didn’t cheat on him – but clearly
there had been something going on between the two of them.

He slipped his hand behind Grace’s back at the same time as Jack placed his hands on
Seraphina’s upper arms. He wanted to murder him for touching her, for saying he had ‘heard
a lot about him’ whilst shaking his hand. What was it about this bloody idiot that made his
blood boil? Was it that he was comforting her in such a way that he wasn’t able to do
anymore? He could see that she looked like she was about to panic and run again, and gods,
he didn’t want her to run anymore. Even if she was going to be in this world with them, the
least she could do was go along with the group of them.

Lost in his thoughts as he gripped the dress Grace had on, Jackson came around the corner –
realising he had not greeted the guests in his home.

“Hey mate, they’re here!” Jackson looked elated as he walked up to Nathaniel. “Who the hell
is that?” he peered over at Jack and Seraphina.

“Jack,” Grace answered for him.

He was still staring at them. Jack’s hand moved from her upper arms and to her shoulders, a
gentle shake of her to cause those perfectly delicate features to burst into a grin. He could
hear the laughter from where he was at and the shot that it had targeted at his heart hit him
square in the chest. Nathaniel felt like the reserve oxygen in the room had been used up as he
heard her laugh for the first time in 560 days. Gods, he missed the sound of her laugh.

“Boyfriend?” Jackson cocked his head to the side as he scanned the traitor, making her laugh.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Grace piped up.

“What?” Nathaniel finally snapped out of his reprieve.

“Would it be such a bad thing that she has a boyfriend? You’ve moved on.” She reached her
small hand and intertwined their fingers.

“No, it’s not,” he nodded his head and bent his neck down to capture her lips in a kiss.

She shouldn’t have been shocked to look over at them to see his lips on hers. In some sort of
way, the view of Nathaniel Nott kissing Grace Williams sent a rotating blade straight to her
heart. She hoped in that moment she was doing what her mother had once told her – put the
mask on, heal in private so you can shine in public. But gods, there was a part of her that
showed how devastated she was to watch them show affection.
“Are you ready to go join everyone now?” Jack looked at her with concern.

No, she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and cry and leave this place. She hated
being here when all it did was make her feel like she was in constant pain. But she looked
onwards as Celeste, Fiona and Bethany opened a bottle of champagne and a part of her knew
that if she stayed with them all night, everything would be bearable.

“Seraphina Languir live in the flesh,” Jackson Pucey’s voice rang out.

“Jackson Pucey,” she smiled – it was fake.

“Glad to see you could join us,” he grinned at her with a wolfish smile.

“One of us had to make sure I can still drink you under the table,” she chuckled.

“And who is your boyfriend?” Jackson looked at her pointedly.

“Oh! This is Jack,” she smiled as she gestured to the man behind her. “He’s not my
boyfriend.”

“Jack Johnson, Gay,” he gripped Jackson’s hand with a smile.

“Jackson Pucey. Not sure why we’re saying our sexual orientation.”

“You think I’m dating this catch of a witch here, but I’m not… because I don’t like witches,”
Jack chuckled.

“Understood,” Jackson laughed in reply.

They walked further into Jackson’s flat at that moment, Seraphina downcast her eyes from
Nathaniel and Grace in an attempt to ward herself off from their energy. She knew coming to
this evening would mean a multitude of things, one of them being that she would finally be
faced with the consequences of her actions. She would be forced to look at them and pretend
that she was okay with her failures. That perhaps everything had happened for a reason –
because if she could look at them and not feel a pang in her chest, she could move on from
the failure of their relationship. She could feel their gazes as she passed them too, like two
irons branding her back with their eyes. It was painful and deserved it, she deserved the pain.
She wanted it even.

“So what do you drink, Jack?”

“Tequila,” Jack shrugged. “At least, that’s how Seraphina got me drunk the last time we
drank together.”

“Seraphina Languir doing shots?” Grace spoke.

“She’s quite the drinker, aren’t you?” Jack wrapped his arm around her shoulder, forcing her
to look at the woman who currently had an arm around her ex.

“I enjoy the occasional shot,” she shrugged.

“Really?” It was Jackson who spoke this time. “Last time you drank me under the table with
Champagne… shall we do shots this time?”

“Yes!” Jack spoke for the both of them.

“Shouldn’t I have a say in it?” she chuckled warmly. “Yes, we can start with shots.”

“Perfect! Everyone gather around! Time for shots!” Jackson bellowed as he began to pour
one ounce into the rocks glasses he had displayed for the group of them.

Seraphina caught Celeste’s gaze from across the counter as she stood with Bethany and
Fiona. A mouthed ‘are you okay’ came from her lips, and she responded with a gentle smile
and nod of her head. She would be okay. Alcohol would make it okay.

As Jackson finished pouring the glasses, the group of them reached into one another to grab
their share. Her fingers reached for the middle glass of the group – the closest one to her. It
was as she was about to grab it that her fingers were brushed by calloused ones. Pulling back
at the same time, green eyes met blue. “Sorry,” she muttered as she took a step back.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Take it, it’s yours.”

“No, you can have that one,” she reasoned.

“No. You can have it.”

“I’ll have it!” Jack handed his glass in his possession to Seraphina before reaching for the
middle one to put the group out of misery.

“Fucking hell,” Seraphina heard Fiona mutter from across the counter.

Fucking hell was right.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

“Now picture your filing cabinet at your workplace.” Draco looked at him pointedly.

“Okay,” Nathaniel pictured the image in his mind. He could see the drawer opening up and
revealing all the filing folders.

“Now ascribe a folder to each memory and put them in there.”

“Done,” he spoke firmly as he finished the task.

“Do you feel lighter?” Draco leaned back in his seat whilst looking at his godson.

“A bit, yes.”
“Did you file her away?”

“No.”

“File her away, file everything away. When the time comes, you will be able to go back on
the memories without feeling pain and by that time, it will be nothing but fondness and less
animosity.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to file Seraphina away. But as his godfather looked at him,
he realised he was right. He had to file her away or it would consume him whole. This was
their last lesson before he went home – the last thing he had to learn that got his uncle out of
the chaos that plagued his mind.

Slowly and then all at once, he placed the memories into her file. The memory of him first
meeting her in Grimaud Village… immediately being drawn to those green eyes that
reminded him of the first blades of grass after a particularly cold winter. Next was the
memory of them all becoming friends, watching her come out of her shell and flourish with
the group of them in the summertime. Soon enough, the memories of their Hogwarts years
were thrown in the file as well. Memories of her hand shooting up in class when no one else
would answer the questions they were asked, or even how she would sit at the Ravenclaw
table and absentmindedly draw patterns on the long wood tables they would be at. He filed
their first kiss away as well, the eruption of feelings that it brought nestled cosily in the folder
containing all of his memories.

The most recent ones were more difficult to let go of. He found himself sitting in the
memories of them spending time together. He wanted to relive the memory of them at
Christmas for the rest of his life. The happy memories were the hardest to store away. The
ones that were the reason he was drawn to drink were thrown haphazardly into the beige
folder. After what felt like years, he had placed Seraphina Languir at the back of the filing
cabinet to remain there for the rest of his life.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Deep in his mind at that moment, the filing cabinet jostled. Deep in his mind, in the corner
that remained dark for so long, the memories of Seraphina Languir begged to envelop his
consciousness. Her touch, though fleeting, had a catastrophic impact on his psyche.
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter 3

Hermione knew that if/when they came back together, it would be difficult, but she had never
imagined it would be this tough. She was reminded about the person she was before
everything – this optimistic and naive girl who thought she could fight for everything and
everyone she loved. That girl grew up, though, and she grew up fast . There was no way to
encapsulate just how much damage was done when she grew up quickly. All of them had
gone through a war together. They fought on separate sides and dealt with the aftermath in
nefarious ways. Perhaps it was different for all of them; some were required to assist in
reparations, whereas others reaped the benefits. But there was no benefit to either side, was
there? At some point, they all lost a part of themselves as child soldiers.

It was easy to trauma bond almost as easy as it was to keep everything the same. To follow
the status quo that they had been following before their world fell apart. Hermione had tried
for so long to keep the peace of her entire world, knowing in her gut that, at some point, the
peace would shatter into pieces on the ground, and she would be left with the world she was
afraid to enter. Draco Malfoy had been that bridge for her. He bridged the gap between
herself shattering into the abyss and staying straight on the path of life. He had been the
shadows of the tunnel that pointed to her destination. The destination was the happiness that
life could provide her if she let herself take hold and grab it.

Draco Malfoy had saved her in every way that a woman could be saved. Though she had
resented him at one point or another for never showing up; she was projecting the fact that
she was too afraid to go and look. What would have happened if she had gone and looked for
him instead of being too afraid of the consequences of not showing up when he was there?
Would they have fallen back in step with one another, or would there have been some sort of
animosity that came from their lack of communication? They would have found out about
Celeste at some point. She would have done something stupid like get a onesie that had
“Dad's favourite” on it.

The two of them would have woken up in his bed in each other's arms when she would
realise that she had to tell him. He would kiss her good morning whilst she smiled against his
lips before slipping out of the room and grabbing the gift bag from the barren coat closet.
When she would make it back to bed, he would prop himself up on his elbows and smile at
her, questioning what she had in her hands. She would smile shyly before giving him the bag
and telling him to open it, anxious for his reaction. He would be perplexed about the situation
for a moment before everything would click in his brain. Draco would look at Hermione with
such adoration that it could only be described as worshipping someone. He would ask her if
she was being serious, and she would smile and nod her head – probably crying. Then he
would envelop her in a hug and kiss her soundly. They would move between the sheets as
one as he devoted his entire life to her and the life they were creating for themselves.

They would argue over muggle or wizarding cribs. Hermione would assure him that they
were the same at the end of the day, but he would become anxious. They would understand
that at some point – they would have to tell Narcissa. When that day would come, she would
sit across from either of them with a grin on her face; Narcissa Malfoy would welcome
Hermione Granger into their life as well as their unborn child. It would be overwhelming
realising that she would be accepted into their family so quickly. She would question it
consistently, so often that Draco would sit her down and explain all the reasons that they
deserved to be together.

Her anxiety would come to a point where she would look between the two of them during
dinners, where she would think that she needed to get out of there. It would cause a rift in
their relationship, her apprehension about her belonging. He would grow frustrated with her,
and she would tell him she never truly felt like she belonged before. So, even though she
knew she was welcomed by two people who had their arms wide open to her, she felt like it
was Hogwarts all over again, and this time she couldn’t smart-ass her way into believing she
could be there.

This would spark an argument between the two of them, comparing his family to her first few
months at Hogwarts, where no one wanted to pay attention here. It was an argument that
turned into her moving out. Hermione would go to Ginny and Harry’s and stay on their couch
for a number of days, crying about the man she loved the most in this world. Draco would go
to Theo’s and scream at him for her emotions. It wasn’t him complaining; it was his lack of
understanding. Daphne would swoop in then and sit him down before ripping him a new
asshole. He would learn about why Hermione felt the way she did in a different set of words
than his own girlfriend used. At the end of a week, Draco would show up at Ginny and
Harry’s before sitting on his knees before her, explaining how he didn’t understand, but now
he does. He would explain that he needed to be more sensitive about the way they handled
conversations, how he would promise to be better, he would listen to the way she felt, and he
would make sure he was interpreting it the correct way before getting upset.

Hermione would argue that they weren’t ready for this – wasn’t ready for one another when
they barely knew enough to navigate storms such as the one they had just barely navigated.
He would sit there, and he would listen to every single syllable that came from her lips; he
would assess her reasoning, and he would look her dead in the eyes when he told her that she
was wrong. He would explain exactly why they were ready to take on the world together, that
for two people that were put in situations they had no control over, they could choose to
control the one they were in now. She would start to cry, and he would hold her close. Then,
when her tears stopped flowing, she would look at him, honey brown meeting ice blue, and
she would tell him to take her home.

They would go to the cottage he had bought. He would show her the life he had preemptively
built for her. He would tell her about what he had planned for them, and the guest room
would be the nursery – they could paint it the muggle way if she wanted. They could sit and
watch the sunrise from the porch outside and eat breakfast out there, too. He told her that he
wanted to grow old with her there; he wanted them to live the rest of their lives with one
another in it because Draco Malfoy could not imagine living a life without Hermione Granger
in it.

Hermione would live there. They would go through all the stages of her pregnancy together,
all the while being confused and concerned with every kick that their child would make. She
would have trouble eating, sleeping, and even regulating her magic with her emotions.
Hermione would hex him when she felt like it, and he would kiss her in return. They would
realise quite quickly how uniquely suited they were for one another. That though they were
being thrust into this new life head-on, it was something they wanted… together.

He would propose to her. He realised he would do it far before he actually did it. When Draco
Malfoy realised he wanted to marry her, it was after their first fight – but it would have
seemed inappropriate to get down on one knee without a ring after something that almost tore
them apart. He realised he wanted her in his life far before he even thought about proposing;
perhaps the universe had always wanted them to be together. Instead of an asteroid separating
them, they had been the moon, the stars, and the cosmos in between. Draco would propose to
her in a subtle way; he would have decided it quite easily. He would realise that their life was
simple, and as such, he should maintain their simplicity into the next step in their future.

Hermione would be making lemon tarts randomly at seven in the morning. She would claim
that it had to do with the fact she desperately had a craving for them. He would chuckle and
wrap his arms around her as she worked on the crust, his hands falling to her abdomen and
kissing her neck. She would close her eyes and place her hands on his, resting on where their
child was actively kicking. He would whisper about how much he loved her, how much he
worshipped her, and how much he wanted to wake up the rest of his life with her making
lemon tarts in the morning. She would smile at his words and turn her head to kiss him. They
would stand there in the silence of their kitchen in each other's embrace before he would pull
his hands away from her. He would reach into the back pocket of his trousers and grab the
ring. It would be a simple marquise-cut diamond with a gold band. The band would have
diamonds placed every 5-8 millimetres in between etching. Draco wouldn’t ask right away.
He would put it on her left hand, still embracing her and the bump which held their whole
world.

When he would slip it on her finger, she would spin around, eyes wide with wonder.
Hermione would give him a questioning look before he would tell her how much he had
loved her, how much he would love her for the rest of his life. She would start to cry, a smile
erupting on her face. It would be then that Draco would slip a piece of her hair behind her ear
and kiss her soundly. From then, he would smile at her and ask her the four-word sentence
that would change their life forever. She would say ‘yes’ through tears, and they would seal
everything off with a kiss.

They would celebrate their engagement with all of their friends and family. They would hold
it at the cottage, and while Draco would get drunk with his friends, Hermione would smile
and laugh with the people she was lucky enough to call her friends and family. There was
very little that day that wouldn’t be committed as a core memory for them. When everyone
would leave, she would look at him as he stood in the kitchen looking at her. He would smile
– drunkenly at her. They would go to bed together, where they would hold one another as
they slept. Then, she would wake up in the morning to his kisses.
Their engagement bliss would be interrupted one morning by her labour. He would get them
to St. Mungo’s as she cried out curses to his name. Draco would faint, which would give her
some sort of reprieve in the situation she would be in. It would cause a laugh to erupt from
her lungs as her body burned with the pain of labour. Then, as Draco came to, their daughter
would be born. He would faint again, and on June 6th, 2001, at 3:12 am, the day after his
birthday, Celeste Helena Malfoy would come into the world.

When Draco, Hermione, and Celeste would go back to the cottage, they wouldn’t have a clue
what to do. Draco and Hermione would take turns tending to her in the night as she cried out
for them. He would have stepped up, making sure that she would be able to sleep. He would
have become a ‘girl dad’ in the most literal sense of the world. When he could, he would
have learned how to make Hermione breakfast in bed without burning the eggs that they had.
It wasn’t easy, but they grew together.

Celeste would take her first steps; she would say her first word, ‘dada.’ She would be just as
attached to her father as he was to her. Eventually, Draco would finish his education when he
figured out how to manage his time – he would become a professor at the school his daughter
would attend. Hermione, at the right time, would finish her education in charms, but instead
of going to the route of academia like her fiance would, she would take her education and
apply it in a legal setting… joining the board of trustees at Hogwarts, then further into
philanthropic endeavours.

Their wedding would be small, contrary to Narcissa’s protests. They would have their close
friends and family in their backyard, which would be made into something out of this world.
It would be done up such that they wouldn’t know it was their backyard in the first place. At
the age of five years old, Celeste watched her parents finally get married. She would be the
flower girl, and a very obnoxious Nathaniel Nott would be the ring bearer.

Nathaniel Nott, Fiona Zabini, and Celeste Malfoy would become quick friends. This would
translate into their home in Grimaud Village. Narcissa would pass the château down to Draco
and Hermione, and they would spend the summers down there. Celeste becomes friends with
Seraphina Languir when the family moves next door to them. The couple bought the château
next to theirs – the girls quickly spent hours upon hours with one another. Hermione would
become friends with Matilda Languir, whilst Gabriel Languir would join the group of
husbands.

When their children went to Hogwarts for the first time, Celeste would get sorted into
Slytherin with all of her friends, minus Seraphina, who would end up in Ravenclaw. But the
group remained close throughout school regardless of their houses. Bethany Smith would be
introduced to the group through Seraphina. When they were older, Xander Zabini would
introduce Delilah Howard, and the group would become inseparable.

Celeste would graduate from Hogwarts – opting to do an eighth year with everyone else,
focusing on potions like her father. She would get accepted into Cambridge before moving
away and living on campus. Seraphina and Nathaniel would share a flat with her, whilst
Bethany and Fiona owned their own. Xander would announce his engagement to Delilah at a
Christmas dinner in front of his friends and family. Everything would have worked out if she
had gone and sought him out. Everything would have unfolded as the universe willed it to.
Except that’s not how anything happened, is it?

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

The music was becoming synonymous with the blood in her veins. With every drop of the
tempo, she felt an atomic shift in her body. It differed from magic, but it held the same
sentiment in her soul. She felt sane but lost at the same time – like the mixture of alcohol and
tempo had taken over her, and she was driven by the atmosphere she was in.

Jack, Jackson, and Seraphina had gone shot for shot in his flat – the familiar warmth of hard
liquor entering her system was welcomed like an old friend. But now, as she danced in the
middle of the dancefloor at the crowded club they were in, she smiled brightly at Jack, who
was twirling her around. She missed the carefree feeling that he provided her as a friend.

“His ass is delicious,” Jack shouted to her.

“Who’s ass?”

“Jackson!” he gushed.

“Oh yes, he does have a nice bum,” she giggled.

“Is he gay?”

“I…” she looked over at Jackson, who had been shouting at Nathaniel whilst they looked in
their direction. “I think so? But that might have been a fever dream,” she finished with a
giggle.

“Given the opportunity, I would let that man allow me to be a pillow princess all night.”

She threw back her head in that moment in laughter. The song mixed into the next tempo as
Jack grasped her forearms and twirled her once more. She liked this; she liked being happy.
She hoped she could remain in this bubble forever.

The music merged with the next song in simplicity as he stared over at her. He couldn’t keep
his eyes off her, even though he knew he shouldn’t be staring. But his fucking hands were on
her, and she had her head thrown back in laughter. He wanted to be the one to do that to her
as he shut her giggles up with a kiss that sucked the oxygen from her body. But he was
standing in the spot he was standing in, and Jackson was shouting at him.

“He’s gay,” Jackson noted as they stared at the two of them.

“He’s gay?”
“His first words were telling me his sexual orientation,” his friend chuckled.

“So they’re not dating,” he cast his eyes on his best friend.

“Not in the slightest.”

“I see.”

“You need a drink, mate,” Jackson handed him the mixed glass of vodka and soda.

“I need to get out of this fucking club is what I need,” he downed the drink.

“You need to get your emotions in check, is what you need to do – you look like you’re about
to hex a gay man for making a girl laugh.”

“Then he shouldn’t be making her laugh,” his eyes met his friends.

“Or, perhaps, you should go dance with your girlfriend, who hasn’t stopped trying to fuck
you with her eyes since she got here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Unfortunately, you’re straight,” Jackson shrugged as he left his spot and walked down to the
crowd of people.

He watched closely as Jackson approached Seraphina and Jack with a smirk on his face. The
two of them broke apart quickly, and she backed away, looking lost without someone to
dance with. The overwhelming urge to go to her, to pick up her hand and hold her close to
him, almost enveloped him completely. But he couldn’t do that, because he had a girlfriend.
The same girlfriend was making her way from the crowd with a smile on her face to greet
him. As she materialised at his side, he smiled down and gave her a kiss. She smelled like
vanilla muffins and bread – a combination that was surely meant to be homely, but he
couldn’t stand it at the moment.

“Baby, come dance,” she pleaded.

“Let’s get a drink first,” he noted as he took her hand.

She hated being alone almost as much as she hated being in a room full of people that wanted
her attention. But she watched Jackson flirt with Jack with a smile on her face before
searching the crowd for anyone else. They had all been dancing with one another – Celeste,
Fiona, and Bethany looking carefree. She would join them, she decided, but not without
grabbing a drink first. She made her way through the crowd, pushing through bodies before
squeezing into the spot at the bar top, which was saturated with liquor. A part of her didn’t
want to ruin Jack's shirt by putting her elbows on the counter, so she placed her fingers to
hold on. For some reason, she felt possessive about the spot she had found.

The people around her shouted their drink orders at the three bartenders attempting to make
everything that they wanted. Vodka cran! Beer, your cheapest beer, Shots of tequila! She
heard every single drink order around her. When her time came, or more accurately, when the
screaming subsided, the bartender made her way over to her.

“What can I get you, darling?” the bartender smiled gently.

“Vodka water lime,” Seraphina requested.

The bartender nodded her head before turning away and preparing her drink, leaving
Seraphina waiting patiently.

“Hey,” an unknown baritone came from her left-hand side.

“Hi,” she smiled politely.

“I’ve been watching you all night, and I just wanted to say that you are beautiful,” the
stranger grinned deviously. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?”

“Oh, thank you. That’s okay, though; I have my own coming,” she smiled.

“Let me pay for it,” he insisted.

His hand slipped at her lower back at that moment. His hands were large, taking up the
expanse of her mid-drift.

“No, it’s okay, I can pay for my own drink,” she shifted uncomfortably as she searched for
the bartender.

“Come on, sweetheart. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t have to pay for anything,” he
slurred.

“Really, it’s okay,” she insisted.

Nathaniel looked over to his left and saw the familiar profile of Seraphina’s face as she
ordered from the bartender. There was nowhere in the bar that was safe from her. He realised
this as he looked over to his left and saw the familiar profile of her face as she ordered from
the bartender. His hand gripped Grace tighter around her shoulders as she stood in front of
him. She had ordered from their bartender two shots of vodka and a vodka cran before they
moved away. He didn’t particularly want to do shots, but she had insisted on their way over.
She missed partying with him, or so she said. So he allowed her to request this one thing
from him. He would do a shot with her, and then he would dance with her until the haze of
his mind faded away. He would dance with his girlfriend until Seraphina finally disappeared
from his consciousness.

But now, some bloke was moving beside her, a devious look on his face as his hand slipped
around the small of her back. She visibly tensed at his touch, and the instinct to shove him off
of her shot through his being. He couldn’t do that, though. He couldn’t shove some bloke
away from Seraphina Languir because he was fully capable of holding himself back around a
girl that was no longer his. But the shots that showed up in front of them didn’t help. It didn’t
help when Grace and he clinked their glasses, and the clear liquid burned down his throat as
he took the shot. Nothing helped because as he dropped the bill on the bar top for the
bartender to pay, he noticed his hand slip down Seraphina’s body as she tried to move away.

He wasn’t in control of his body as he moved from his spot, leaving Grace where she stood
with her drink. The only route in his mind was to stand between Seraphina and this unknown
man who seemed to have no clue about boundaries when they were being placed.

“One drink, let me get you one drink,” the mystery bloke's hand moved lower on her back as
she tried to shift away from the intrusion, but the bodies around her limited her range of
motion.

“Really,” she started.

“No is a full sentence, mate. She’s said it multiple times,” he spoke lowly as he reached
behind her to grab the man's hand and place it on his own chest.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat.

“Don’t worry about it,” he hissed. “She said no, take the dismissal and leave.” His tone was
territorial.

The man scoffed and turned away, leaving him standing behind Seraphina as she shook from
anxiety. “Are you okay?” he spoke slowly as she turned around.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she pushed the words out on an exhale.She then paid for the drink that
appeared in front of her before rushing off.

Grace downed her drink before looking at the bartender, who watched her carefully. She
watched as her boyfriend defended a girl he was no longer with, and she looked at the man
who had got her the alcohol she had just finished and requested another drink. She downed
that one too. When she looked back up, Seraphina was gone, and Nathaniel was still turned
away from Grace. She ordered another drink. She downed that one too.

She watched as her boyfriend defended another woman selfishly; she wondered if she got
herself in the same position Seraphina was just in if he would defend her too. Realistically,
and it hurt the most to think it, is she knew he wouldn’t. He would never care about her the
way that he cared about Seraphina, and she was ready to cry at the bar top. She was ready to
cry because maybe she had already had too many drinks, and the shot of vodka, followed by
finishing the two cocktails quickly, was making her head spin.

Grace wondered a lot of things when she stood there and watched the man she loved looking
at the girl who had left him. She wondered if there was some universe where she wouldn’t
have to compete with Seraphina. If there was such a thing, such a timeline where her feelings
weren’t second in line – maybe she would go there. She hoped that in that second timeline,
she would be happy. Because she wasn’t happy, she wasn’t happy with him because being
with him felt like she was a third party in her own relationship. Always making room for
someone who no longer wanted to be there.
She had tried to be the perfect girlfriend. She was nice to his friends; she made an effort to be
around them and organise fun things for them to do. Logically, she knew that Bethany and
Fiona only attended the things she planned to appease Nate, and she was almost thankful for
that. But she wasn’t her, and though Fiona seemed to despise Seraphina for what she did, she
still ranked her higher on her list of people than Grace… and that fucking hurt. Because no
matter what she did, she would never be good enough for any of them – not when she was
around.

That’s why she ripped up the letters. She knew, she fucking knew, that if he saw what she had
written for him, it would be over. And it felt so nice to be wanted again after not feeling it at
all for so long. But she wasn’t wanted? Was she? Because being wanted never made someone
feel like her heart was being ripped into two as she tried to be perfect. She was afraid that
everything would fall apart if she came back, and it did. It fell apart, and she was desperately
trying to keep things together. If she kept gluing back the pieces of her relationship, maybe it
wouldn’t end. Maybe, just maybe, if she pretended for a bit longer that everything was okay,
it would turn out that way. Maybe he would get over it because if he didn’t, she wasn’t sure
how much longer she could pretend like it didn’t bother her.

So yes, ripping up the letters was a selfish way of doing things. It was desperate, and it was
cruel of her, and a part of her wanted to tell him about what she did. But a part of her knew
that the second she told him, it would be over, and she would be left alone again. She was so
tired of being alone.

“Everything okay?” she plastered a fake smile on her face as she walked to him.

“Yes, love,” he smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissing her head.

Was this the shift that everyone referred to when they realised their relationship was doomed?
That underwhelming feeling that everything was going to implode on them? She realised
what was happening before she wanted to accept it – that she was mourning her relationship
before it ended. Because as she turned in his grasp, she looked up at her boyfriend with a
melancholy look on her face before capturing his lips with hers. He paused before the
moment caught up with him as he wrapped his arms around her frame and kissed her back.
Grace needed the reminder of what she had fought for – his devotion was something she
needed in her life. His devotion was the only thing keeping her sane.

Celeste watched everything happen from her spot, her eyes glancing between Seraphina,
Nathaniel, and Grace as the scene played out. Her time had been spent catching up with
Fiona and Bethany, who indulged her with the tales of what it was like to fall in love slowly
and all at once. She smiled in thinking about Thomas and his upcoming visit. They had
planned for him to be there before the wedding – he had ensured with his employer that the
time off was accepted before calling Celeste and telling her the news.

She had been on her phone on and off during the night to message him, causing Fiona to get
curious. Celeste told her about how she hadn’t expected to meet someone in the
circumstances that she met up – but everything unfolded as the universe willed it, and who
was she to reject the universe? But as she sent out her last text to Thomas, she was met with
the anxious eyes of Seraphina.
“What’s wrong?” concern laced her tone.

“I think I’m ready to go back home,” the brunette looked at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Seraphina nodded finitely.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Hermione looked in the mirror once more before she left her home. Following Draco’s arrival
at her doorstep, she realised how much was being left unsaid between the two of them. The
kiss they had shared had been earth-shattering – a piece of her rumbling for the first time in
two decades. She wanted nothing more than to keep him in her heart like she didn’t the first
time around. But there were more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that they hadn’t seen
one another for two decades.

He agreed, shockingly, that they shouldn’t be in each other's presence until they talked about
the things that they seemed to forget about when they were in proximity to one another. A
part of her didn’t want to watch him leave; a part of her wanted to take him to her bedroom
and repay all two decades' worth of agony in one night. But he left like she did the first time,
and something about watching him leave felt worse than never going to him.

They decided they would meet at their old spot, a bit of a jaunt for her to get there, but she
wasn’t about to deny him of anything he asked her now. So she apparated. She took the long
walk down the streets she used to be too afraid of going down until she got to the park.

It was like a kaleidoscope of memories that came flooding back to her. Their first night in
Paris, all the nights afterward. The picnics they would have in their park, under the tree, had
been smaller at the time but now loomed over her as she stood there waiting. A frightening
thought came to her. What if he wouldn’t show up this time? What if she trusted too quickly?
What if she was so eager to see the man she still loved that she disregarded all logical
reasoning and went to the spot they used to go to without any sort of preparation?

But her anxious thoughts were cut short as he rounded the corner. It should be criminal at the
way he grew up, the fact that he looked mature in an elegant way. She wanted to hex him so
that he would look different so that she could suppress the heat that was rising up her neck
and onto her cheeks. But he didn’t stop; he walked towards her with a smile on his face
before lacing his fingers behind her hair, tilting her head back, and cutting off her oxygen
supply with a kiss that made her knees go weak.

“Draco,” she whispered.

“Hermione,” he smiled against her lips.

“We need to talk.”

“I figured that was what we’re going to do,” he chuckled.

“Kissing is not talking,” she laughed.

“Be quiet, witch,” he scolded. “I’m making up for lost time.”

He kissed her again, and she felt time stop as his lips moulded against hers. She missed this,
she missed his touch, and she missed the way his body felt as it was close to hers. Logically,
she knew she should stop kissing him. But gods, did she ever not want to? She didn’t want to
stop kissing him because kissing him finally felt like she was home. A part of her wondered
if he felt the same way. That being near her was the closure he also needed to feel like their
individual story was complete – and ready to start their new adventure together.

But she resented him at the same time. She resented him because of what she went through,
and she resented herself for how she didn’t try to get to him sooner. She had so many
questions about how he had never read the letters until recently. How did he ignore the pile
for so long? If he ignored them for so long, how did he live with himself knowing he didn’t
read what she wrote all those years ago? What kind of man was Draco Malfoy to
purposefully not open letters from the women he apparently “loved?” She wondered too
many things about the logistics of what had transpired over the years, but her brain fought
against her logic as his hand gripped the roots of her scalp.

She pulled back before he was willing to let her go. Her honey brown searched the ice of his
irises, trying to find an answer to a question she couldn’t formulate the words to. What did he
want? Did he want things to go back to the way they had been twenty years ago? It wasn’t
going to. Too much time had passed for them to just start anew without any reconciliation for
the past that they hadn’t discussed.

Had he been with anyone else? Was he married now? She hadn’t seen anything in the news
about him. She wondered if he had kept it hidden if he did get married or maybe she
subconsciously obliviated the memory away. But if he was married he wouldn’t be kissing
her, right? Did he move on? Again, it would be extremely weird if he was kissing her when
he moved on? That was the difference between them, though, wasn’t it? She had moved on;
she had married, all things she felt like she had to do when he left her. But they were two
separate sides of a coin – with no way to communicate efficiently.

“You wanted to talk,” his voice finally broke his trance.

“We can’t erase twenty years without one another,” she spoke efficiently.

“We can’t,” he agreed.

“Did you even look for me?” she questioned.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why didn’t you look for me?” he cocked an eyebrow.

 This question nearly caused her brain to short-circuit. She hadn’t anticipated he would turn it
around on her. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t to blame in any way, shape, or form, but calling her
out on the exact thing she didn’t do felt like a blow to the chest.

“We’re talking about you, not me,” she spoke pointedly.

“How do you expect to ask me a question you can’t even answer yourself?” He took a step
back.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as she thought it would be.

Chapter End Notes

Am I on a writing ban? YES. Was this finished before the writing ban started? Also yes.
Enjoy! I shall see you all after I'm done exams <3

Thank you always to my amazing betas I don't know what I would do without you xo
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Sorry, it's been a minute... I was busy being stressed and depressed and also moving to a
different continent. There will be regular uploads now for this fic.

Translations at the bottom.

Thank you, as always, to my beta team; without you, I would have comma splices
everywhere.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 4

In the hours between sunrise and sunset, they tiptoed around their situation. Draco and
Hermione pretended that the last twenty years had not happened and acted as if they were
who they were in 2000. Their visits consisted of talking to one another about life, about how
they couldn’t believe they were reunited, and how they would’ve risked an entire lifetime to
experience each other's embrace once more. But there were things they didn’t talk about.
Why she never tried harder? Why did it take a curious Ravenclaw to figure out their
situation? And perhaps most importantly, if they would’ve pretended that one another's
existence didn’t affect them if the other never came back?

They also hadn’t breached the topic of Celeste besides a few mundane conversations about
her personality, her brains, and her beauty. He had been dying to look at photographs of her
as a child, but he didn’t want to step over the invisible barrier she had placed up around their
daughter. He wondered, absently, if he could ask her without an uproar of emotions – he
hadn’t tried yet, though, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

They tiptoed around why they did the things they did because it was too hard to explain it to
themselves. So how could they explain it to one another? They wanted the same thing; they
wanted to be happy. They wanted to pretend the years between then and now disappeared,
and they were back in 2000 and in one another's arms. They wanted to pretend this whole
story never existed because if it didn’t exist, maybe they could turn back time and start at the
beginning.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________
 Why

/wIE/

adverb:

(with reference to a reason) on account of which; for which.

exclamation:

1. expressing surprise or indignation.

1. “why, that’s absurd!”
2. used to add emphasis to a response.
1. “You think so?” “Why, yes.”

noun:

reason or explanation.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Thus far, this story has prepared you, the reader, to understand why humans do what they do
comprehensively. Why do we (humans) tend to make the mistakes that we do? This universe,
these characters, have become somewhat mundane in retrospect to the more significant
meaning of the story. You see, you were twisted into being mad at these characters – I, the
author, wrote them so that you could hate them all. Because when you read a novel, you are
supposed to be mad at flawed characters because they reflect the reality of what humans are.
Imperfect.

Your favourite characters in this story were written to be flawed because that is how we all
are. Humans are wired to make the most complicated decision regarding the simplest
solution. The mind cannot begin to comprehend that the simplest solution can be correct. So
keep this in mind, dear reader, because as you read ahead, you will find yourself in the more
significant meaning of this story. Because Draco and Hermione have been apart for 20 years,
and though it is easy to scream at your computer, phone, or Kindle, it is much harder to
realise that these characters were written from the heart. That the experiences they encounter
are retrospective of the ones that people in your life have experienced.
When you scream at a character for their mistakes, you are screaming at someone you may
know. This story is about the good, the bad, and the ugly of the human experience. Because
why would everything be sunshine and rainbows in this universe? Why would I make it easy
for you to escape the reality you seem to live in?

This fanfic is a love letter to the human experience and why we do what we do. In the final
act of this tale – what I like to call PART 3, humbly, we will learn about the why of this story.
Buckle in, dear reader, because I am just getting started. Grab a glass of wine and a box of
tissues because I can almost guarantee you will need one or the other.

Enjoy.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Present day…

“You left after two hours!” she shouted across from him.

“How was I ever supposed to believe I’d ever live up to the expectation you set for yourself
in this relationship!” he snapped finally.

They had been edging at this moment for the last few weeks – their healer waiting patiently
for the facade to crack. Everyone around them knew something would crack; their exterior
walls were eroding as the years went on. But no matter how badly they had wanted each of
them to work things out, an inevitable doom loomed over them.

It wasn’t an easy feat, getting him here. Nor was it any easier getting her to admit that they
needed some sort of intervention for the rose-coloured glasses they wore. They were
terminal, and she figured if she ignored it enough, their fate would dissipate like every other
problem she ever had.

“Fuck off, Draco,” she seethed.

“Back to Draco again, are we?” he chuckled. “I figured you were ignoring my first name
since the moment you saw me again.”

“Why would I call you by your actual name when you haven’t earned it?” A roll of her eyes
this time.

“Oh baby, I think I’ve earned it while you’re cumming around my–”

“Not around the healer!” she screeched.

“She doesn’t care,” Draco scoffed. “Do you, Maria?”

The healer to their sides raised her shoulders in surrender. “It’s your session – do with it what
you will.”

“See, Hermione. She doesn’t care.”

“But I care!”

“Shocking,” it was sarcastic. “Considering you’ve never cared until this moment.”

“I have cared all along!”

“Did you care when you refused to contact me the whole time?”

“I did what was best for my daughter.”

“ Our daughter. ”

“I said it once, and I’ll say it again – she is no more your daughter than she was Viktors,”
Hermione spat.

“I’m done.” Draco stood from his spot and exited the room.

Their therapist looked at Hermione, who was now staring at the vacant spot that Draco once
inhabited, before breaking out into a fake smile, “Well, it seems like there’s some good
progress in your communication,” causing Hermione to scoff and stomp out of the room
herself.

Six months ago…

“Sometimes I think I’m still not good enough for him,” Hermione spoke in hushed tones into
the phone.

“Why would you possibly think that?” Ginny’s irritation was seeping through the speaker.

“I don’t know; maybe it’s the way he can’t look me in the eye when we talk about the past.”

“Do you honestly expect him to just be okay with what happened?”

“You’re not supposed to be on his side,” Hermione sighed.

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Ginny snapped. “I just mean to say that you two have a lot of
issues to work through, and perhaps it’s because you never tried, and neither did he.”

“I tried, Gin.”
“You didn’t, Hermione, and we both know that. You found yourself in a situation that no one
anticipated you ever being in, and you acted impulsively, like you always do.”

“You’re really not boosting my ego.” She rolled her eyes even though Ginny couldn’t see.

“I’m not going to boost your ego anymore. This is bigger than you and him now; you can’t
bury everything because it’s staring you in the face. You can’t pretend that everything is okay
because there is no longer truth behind that statement. You have the love of your life back,
and that’s scary, but your daughter knows who he is, and you no longer have to worry about
her resenting you. Viktor wanted him to know, Celeste wants to know, and you’re the only
one holding yourself back. So just let go and work through your issues – because you’re the
only one who will be able to do it.”

With that, Ginny hung up on her, leaving Hermione standing in her kitchen alone with the
dial tone in the background. There was a lot of truth behind her statement; Hermione couldn’t
deny that. Thoughts swarmed in her brain, a cumulation of what-ifs and hypotheticals that
she hadn’t thought about in years. This time, however, she let herself sink into the terror of
her mind – seeing it all come to the forefront for the first time in a while.

At one point in her life, the worst thing that could happen to Hermione was that someone
found out her secret. She used to picture the headlines that Rita Skeeter would print: Golden
Girl tarnished – find out why Hermione Granger really left her much-anticipated wedding!
They would be different now, though, and she could see it all in front of her as she stared into
the distance.

A long fall from Grace: Ex-Golden Girl Hermione Krum hid in secret with ex-Death Eater
Draco Malfoy’s daughter for twenty years!

Think you’ve heard everything about Hermione Granger? Think again! It has come to this
writer's attention that she has been hiding something so much bigger than you and I these
past twenty years. We once saw Hermione leave England at the end of the millennium year to
take up residence and, shortly after, marriage to Viktor Krum. Little did any of us know, this
was because she was with child to notorious ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy’s kid. How did
this now reformed criminal tarnish such a shining Golden Girl? I’m not quite sure. All I can
say on the matter is that it comes as no surprise that their lack of communication has meant
that he didn’t know either!

Come on now, Miss Granger. Or should I call you Mrs. Krum now? Did you really not tell
your child and their father that either existed? What a shock. Though you always were
notoriously tight-lipped about anything that made you not perfect, now did you?

Sources say that Draco Malfoy showed up at Hermione’s doorstep months ago in France,
proclaiming that he now knows about his daughter – probably with no help from Hermione.
The two have been seen around Paris taking coffee, lunch, and the occasional dinner. Wonder
what they’re discussing? We wonder as well. It’s interesting to see the couple talk so freely
 with one another after years of being apart. Maybe there was more to the story than we first
believed we knew!

Do not fear, my devoted readers, for if there is more to dig up about this so obviously tainted
couple. I will most definitely keep you informed.

Rita Skeeter couldn’t possibly infiltrate her life from England while she was in France, could
she? The thought was paralysing enough to her, but she attempted, for her own grace, not to
let it show. She was alone in her kitchen, the kitchen she built with Viktor, the kitchen she
raised her daughter in, the kitchen she mourned her husband and the kitchen she got herself
drunk in during the late nights when she let her mind wander to the life she abandoned with
Draco.

But Draco was upstairs in her spare room, and she was pretending that she didn’t just have a
conversation with her best friend about the man in her home. She placed her phone down and
moved throughout the kitchen, starting the kettle on the stove and began setting up the teapot.
She watched the flame on the stove in silence as thoughts whirled in her head, waiting for
one to jump out. Waiting for one to breathe life into her once more.

“Good morning,” his arms wrapped around her middle, scaring her momentarily.

“Morning,” she exhaled.

“Tea? Only tea?”

“I wasn’t sure what you preferred to eat,” it came out in a laugh.

He hummed against her neck, his lips ghosting the juncture where her shoulder curved. His
fingers toyed with the fabric of her nightshirt, slipping under to caress her skin. A content
sigh slipped from her lips as he pulled her close to him.

“You’re still so beautiful in the mornings,” he kissed below her ear.

“You’re only looking at the back of my head,” she laughed.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Malfoy,” she shifted.

His hands came from her body, twisting her around so she could look at him. Her eyes moved
from his clothed torso and up to his eyes, which were looking at her with concern. “We still
haven’t talked.”

“You, yourself, said you didn’t want to talk,” he reminded her.

“I know I said that,” she rolled her eyes.

A grin bloomed on his features, the same grin that used to appear when he would have a
moment that he would figure out a perfect brew in potions. She knew that smile because it
was the smile that she used to adore – now it reminded her of why she couldn’t breathe when
she was around him. He was so breathtakingly beautiful, like a fallen angel.

“But–”

He leaned down and kissed her, silencing the words that were about to bubble from her lips.
The train of thought, the one that had finally pushed to the surface, dissipated into the abyss
of her mind. All that remained was the sensation of his body against hers, pushing her back
towards the counter and lifting her up.

“Draco,” she warned.

“Shh,” he hushed her with a kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that breathed life back into her when all she had felt was the agony of
loss for so many years. It was the kind of kiss that brought her home to where she belonged.
He branded her with his lips and made her his once more. His fingers danced on the exposed
skin of her thighs all the way to the heat of her. All her thoughts were devoid of the
arguments she wanted to make.

He moved his lips from hers and made his way down to her neck, whispering in her ear in the
process. “You’ve always been my favourite dream.”

Just like that, the colour bled from her reality, and greyscale seeped back in. She was no
longer on the counter; she was standing in her spot, staring at the kettle. Draco was no longer
kissing her and telling her that she was his favourite dream – he was somewhere in Paris in a
hotel. They were no longer happy together because they couldn’t stand being in the same
place as one another. She pushed and pushed and pushed until there was nothing left to push.

Now she was begging mentally for him to come back to her.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Draco still loved her – that much he was certain of. There had always been this dull ache in
his chest for the past twenty years, but now that he had her back, the dull ache turned into a
pang. He made the choice to walk back into her life. He decided to read those letters; he
changed his life once more because there was always some sort of magnetic pull to Hermione
that he couldn’t deny himself.

But it was painful loving Hermione, so bloody painful that every time he thought about
forgetting the past, he felt the unexplainable tear begin to worsen in his chest. He couldn’t
forgive her, or he could, but it felt like he wasn’t able to forget in order to forgive. Sometimes
he would look in the mirror after seeing her and consider the possibility that someday…
someday, everything could be okay.

Then there was the obvious problem, Celeste. He had yet to meet her properly, and that made
him anxious beyond belief. One would think that when he came back, he would be able to
see her sometime soon. But she wasn’t there; she was somewhere in England, viewing
Cambridge still, and he didn’t know how long she would remain, but there was a part of him
that wanted to be there when she came home. If she even came home.

But this house, the one he had visited in France, wasn’t his home. It wasn’t the home he had
imagined for him and his family when he would have one.

“Fuck,” he cursed into his tea. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. ”

Was he sabotaging his happiness by not being complacent to what Hermione had asked of
him? Was he stubborn to a fault? The second question was a most definite yes. He knew he
was stubborn to a fault – but with that being said, he knew that he needed to be in the work
that he did. The curriculum he set out for his students, and the goals he had in academia, were
enough to make him feel like he needed to reinforce his desire to make change in this world.
Maybe there was always an underlying desire to make change because he knew one day there
would be someone to take advantage of the change he made.

Five months and two weeks ago…

“You’re taking me on a date?” Hermione smiled up at him.

Gods, she was beautiful, so bloody beautiful that it made his heart squeeze. He almost
imagined that time never passed and that they were stepping out of the shadows for the first
time after her wedding – two magical folk that wanted to explore the world together. Her hair
was natural, but something was different about it. Maybe as she aged, her curl pattern
changed, more wavy than the curls she had when she was in school.

Her body was so much different too. He wanted to explore the curves that were more
prominent as she aged. Though he would keep his thoughts quiet, for all intents and purposes.
She wore black trousers that hugged her body perfectly, with a periwinkle blouse tucked into
the waistband. He wanted to pull her into an alcove of the streets of Paris and pull her body
flush to his. He wanted – he wanted. He wanted to be in love with Hermione Krum the way
he had been so in love with Hermione Granger.

He wanted to slip a ring on her finger and make her Hermione Malfoy was what he wanted.

“I am.” He smiled, tucking a hair behind her ear.

“Where are we going?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” he chuckled.

“What?” she laughed.

“You know Paris, Granger. Surely you will know the best restaurants.”

“Krum,” her voice was a hoarse whisper.

“What?”
“My last name, it’s Krum.”

Shock and realisation flooded his senses. It wasn’t his first slip-up when regarding her
surname, but it was the first time she had made the active choice to correct him. ‘Granger’
slipped from his lips so easily that he was almost transported back to a different reality where
there was no lapse of time or judgement from either of them. Calling her Granger was as easy
as breathing – unfortunately, all the oxygen had been starved from the room.

“Krum,” he reminded himself.

“Krum,” she nodded in acknowledgement.

They continued their path, wordlessly making their way down the street, toward the location
they both didn’t know existed. Maybe if he brought up a different topic of conversation, they
could go back to the gentle playfulness that corresponded between them. Maybe if he just
pretended like he didn’t slip up and she didn’t correct them, maybe everything would go back
to normal.

But they didn’t have a normal anymore, did they? He considered this fact heavily in the past
few months – that their normal no longer existed. Perhaps it never existed at all.

“Here,” her small hand slipped into his and pulled him towards a smaller restaurant.

Her movements were so quick that he didn’t get an opportunity to look at the name above
him as they slipped through the doors. Instead, however, he was greeted by oaky interiors and
candlelight as they walked up to the maitre de.

“Bienvenue,” the older gentleman smiled.

“Bonsoir, pour deux s’il vous plait.”

Draco noted how well-rounded her accent had become. How fluent she was in the words that
she spoke – and mostly that when she spoke English to him there wasn’t a hint of French
vernacular. Their conversation didn’t register in his brain as they shuffled down the rows of
tables filled by people, and towards the corner booth. He almost had half a mind to thank the
gentleman for not putting him in the position to rush to pull out a chair for her again. If he
did, he was almost certain that she would look at him weirdly and disregard his proposition.

“Merci,” they both spoke as the gentleman retreated.

A moment passed before either of them spoke, opting to speak up at the same time. “I’m
sorry about earlier,” and “this place is lovely,” coming out on top of one another.

“You go first,” he insisted.

“No, you,” her hands gestured him.

“This place is lovely is all I was going to say.”

“Oh,” her voice was a whisper.

“Yes, but do not worry about earlier. It is my mistake. I should’ve been cognisant of your
surname change.”

“It's fine, truly,” she seemed to promise. “I just haven’t been called ‘Granger’ in ages.”

“It would be shocking if you had been,” he almost chuckled before turning his attention to
the server coming towards them.

“Bonjour, je m'appelle Timothée et je serai votre serveur ce soir.Est-ce que vous êtes déjà
venus au Lièvre Noir?” the younger gentleman spoke enthusiastically.

“Non, c’est notre première fois,” Hermione spoke for them.

“Excellent, bienvenue!” he clasped his hands together. “Notre dîner comprend ce soir du Coq
au Vin et du Confit du Canard. Chaque plat est accompagné de son propre accord mets-vin,
mais nous pourrons en discuter si vous souhaitez d’en choisir un.”

“Merci,” Draco spoke this time. “Deux eaux s’il vous plait.”

Timothée slipped away from the table and returned quickly with their drink of choice. Then,
as he took their orders , Hermione picked the Coq au Vin and Draco chose the Confit du
Canard for their respective wine choices for each meal. Hermione picked a Châteauneuf-du-
Pape and Draco picked a Rioja. The conversation began to flow easily between the two of
them as Timothée became sparse.

“Tell me about you, Hermione,” he insisted.

“You already know about me, Malfoy.”

“But you’re wrong,” he raised his eyebrows. “We haven’t spoken for twenty years. I fear I do
not know you at all.”

“What would you like to know?” she exhaled shakily.

He could sense the apprehension in her tone, knowing that whatever he picked could bring
her up or slam her down into the ground at any moment. There was a part of him, a part that
he couldn’t deny a voice to, that wanted to pick a topic that would make her uncomfortable.
A part of him that wanted her to hurt the ways that he hurt.
“What do you do for work?” he chose a safe option.

She visibly relaxed in that moment and smiled at him – a sense of pride surrounding the
table. “I have a position on the board of directors for Beauxbatons.” She smiled proudly,
taking a sip of her wine.

“That’s wonderful, Hermione,” he smiled in return. “Do you oversee anything specific?”

He watched Hermione light up before she began her speech. “I work mainly with the actual
education there. I joined when Celeste was enrolled there, wanting to make sure that there
was adequate education for her. I helped them incorporate the eighth year as they did at
Hogwarts – so the students have their choice to continue or get a job or mastery after their
final year. It’s been a hit so far.A lot of the students have chosen an eighth year.”

“It’s very similar at Hogwarts,” Draco noted. “Lots of the students end up staying an extra
year to specialise and then take a mastery or a ministry job.”

“The eighth year is very beneficial! I’m happy both schools are doing it now. It seems to
make a difference for workers and their qualifications!” She was so enthusiastic, she was
sparking with magic.

“Though, some students don’t specialise and then are still stuck after… at least I’ve noticed,”
he chuckled.

“Well, that’s their parents' problem, not yours,” she laughed.

“Not when their parent is Theo.”

“That makes sense, Nathaniel then?”

“Do you know about another child that Theo has?”

“Do you ?”

They laughed together, a sweet symphony that warmed his soul. And as their laughter died
down, they stared at one another, eyes open and mouths parted. He wanted to kiss her again,
an overwhelming emotion that had occupied his body for the past few times they had been
together. There was a flaw in that overwhelming impulse to kiss her, mainly that it didn’t
solve any of the problems they were trying to solve.

“Unless something has changed in the past few weeks, then I hope not,” a carefree laugh
escaped his lips. “One Theo offspring is truly enough.”

“Nathaniel is a sweet boy,” Hermione smiled.

“You didn’t have him wank in your shower. Of course he’s a sweet boy to you.”

“He did what .”

“You heard me, Hermione,” he laughed.

“Did you castrate him on the spot?” she grinned over her wineglass.

“No,” he smiled. “He loves Seraphina too much.”

“That he does.”

“But he’s dating a different student now.”

“Interesting – he’s no longer in school and you keep up with his antics?”

“As his godfather, I would hope that I do,” he smiled.

“Of course you are.”

He wanted to know who was Celeste’s godmother and godfather, and if they knew that she
was his child. Did she even have godparents? Did Hermione give anyone that privilege? He
wanted to ask but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Boundaries that seemed to be
invisible, but their barriers were as impenetrable as the Great Wall of China.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not at all,” she laughed. “I would’ve been more shocked if Theo didn’t pick you at all.”

“I’m sure I’ve given him many reasons to not want to be friends with me.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“You wound me, Hermione.” He smiled broadly at her, placing his hand over his heart.

“Oh please, Malfoy. You’ll be okay with one blow to your ego.”

Their entrees were placed in front of them, effectively silencing their conversation, and all
that remained was the sound of their chewing and cutlery on fine china. How had they come
so far? He wondered why he ever let her go in the first place, or why she ever let him go, too.
He wanted to ask her, he wanted to know all the reasonings behind why she did the things
that she did, but somehow, behind her eyes, he could see she wasn’t ready to tell him.

Or, what was most likely, that he wasn’t ready to know.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Three weeks ago…

There was a fine line between fantasy and reality, Draco had come very close to this fact.
There were a few facts that were considered universal truths in his life.

1. He had a daughter, her name was Celeste, and she was the greatest thing to ever happen
to him.
2. The mother of his child detested him for some reason.
3. He loathed her entirely.

Draco chose to omit these facts from any conversation that he had with his daughter.
Because, well, he adored the daughter that he had. He loved her as if he had known her from
the moment she came into this world; and yes, perhaps he didn’t know her the way that
Hermione knew her. But he intended to be the father he would’ve wanted to be if he had the
opportunity to.

This was why Draco found himself sitting in a cafe waiting for his daughter to show up.
Another thing that she and her mother had in common was their blatant disrespect for others'
time – he wasn’t about to inform Celeste of that.

“Hi Mr. Malfoy,” came her voice from behind him.

“Hello, Celeste. You know you can call me Draco,” his reply was a chuckle.

“Yes, yes, I know. It is a force of habit, I suppose,” she smiled as she sat down.

Celeste’s voice differed from her mother in so many ways. The first was her accent,
seemingly French from her growing up in this country. But there was this undertone of
Hermione in it, and he loved the fact that she represented equal parts of her parentage… even
if she didn’t know it.

“What would you like to drink?” he motioned towards the server.

“Black coffee is fine,” she looked at him thoughtfully.

Draco nodded in understanding and spoke to the cafe worker before looking back at his
daughter. As the months approached the wedding, he seemed to want to win her approval. He
was desperate to feel like he belonged in a life that he helped create. He was desperate to love
her like a father loved his daughter. He hoped she wanted that too.

“So,” he began as he looked at her. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” she paused. “I think it’s time you and mum spoke to someone…” another pause in her
breath and a deep inhale that held his attention. “I can’t lose another father.”

Draco looked at her, eyes wide, oxygen filtering from the air. “Please, Dad. Do it for me?”

There was definitely no more oxygen in the air.

Chapter End Notes

Translations:

Bienvenue —> Welcome

Bonsoir, pour deux s'il vous plait —> Good evening, for two please

Merci —> Thanks

Bonjour, je m'appelle Timothée et je serai votre serveur ce soir.Est-ce que vous êtes déjà
venus au Lièvre Noir? —> Hello, my name is Timothée and I will be your server
tonight. Have you ever been to the black hare?

Non, c’est notre première fois —> No, it's our first time

Excellent, bienvenue! —> Excellent, welcome!

Notre dîner comprend ce soir du Coq au Vin et du Confit du Canard. Chaque plat est
accompagné de son propre accord mets-vin, mais nous pourrons en discuter si vous
souhaitez d’en choisir un —> Our dinner tonight includes Coq au Vin and Duck Confit.
Each dish comes with its own wine pairing, but we can discuss that if you want to
choose one.

Deux eaux s’il vous plait —> Two waters thank you
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

I was going to stick to my Friday upload schedule but I'm so hungover and I simply
refuse to wait. Enjoy

Yesterday…

There’s something so uniquely terrifying about being on your own. Hermione and Draco
knew this firsthand. Their lives had separated at a pivotal moment, forcing them to learn the
new path they were destined to walk down. But for some, being on your own presents itself
as an agonising experience. For some, namely Seraphina Languir, being alone is a daunting
task that follows you around, like the shadow that haunts your nightmares.

A few things had happened since that night in the club, mainly that she didn’t bother that
friend group again. Her habit of isolating herself was debilitating as is, but adding her job at
Cambridge into the mix? Everything seemed to happen all at once and not at the same time.
She still saw Bethany, she still saw Delilah and Celeste, but avoiding Nathaniel and Grace
became a sport that she was underqualified to compete in.

“You went somewhere,” Delilah looked at her curiously.

“What?” she stopped in her tracks.

“You went somewhere just now. Where?”

Getting close to Delilah was something unexpected, but welcome with both arms. After their
day in the cafe, where she was informed she was not only the maid of honour but also
making a speech at their wedding – Seraphina opted to spend more time with the witch.
Thinking back on it all now, she wondered why she never became close to Delilah before.
They both valued the same things, honesty, and virtue, something too many people lacked.

They spent most of their days talking about nonsense, something Seraphina had yet to figure
out why they never breached anything serious. Delilah never asked her about Nathaniel or her
friends that she had a rocky relationship with. In turn, Seraphina never asked any personal
questions about the black-haired witch.

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” Seraphina shrugged.

“You do that a lot,” her friend observed.

“Do what?”

“Diminish your feelings and experiences in favour of making everyone think that you’re
okay. It’s okay not to be okay, Seraphina. Everyone knows that there are layers to an
individual's complexities.”

“Are there now? Would you prefer to talk about how your emotions make you feel?”

“Fuck no, we’re not talking about me.”

“Then we’re not talking about my emotions.”

“That’s a foul tactic, but I respect it,” Delilah shrugged and continued her path in the park.

There was a certain feeling that accompanied letting go. Seraphina wasn’t sure what that
feeling was, but she was desperately trying to muster up all the energy she could harness to
figure it out. Despite learning to let go, she didn’t have the mental energy to admit she wasn’t
okay. To save herself from the reality of her emotions, she checked out. She checked out
because it was easier than being present. It was easier than being present because all she
could do at this point in her life was feel like utter shit about everything, and she bloody
hated it.

“How's the wedding planning going?” Seraphina turned to her friend.

Delilah let out a long exhale before looking at her, exhaustion painting her face. “I’m so tired
of the wedding, but I’m excited at the same time, if that makes sense?”

“Please elaborate,” chuckled Seraphina.

“It’s as if I’ve been waiting a long time to find someone who understands me and accepts me
despite my flaws, which is exactly what Xander does. We’re polar opposites, but
simultaneously, I feel like he’s home to me, so marriage was something that came completely
naturally to us. The second that he got down on one knee, I knew that saying yes would be
the easiest thing that I would ever do in this lifetime. However, the process of binding your
heart and magic to can be terrifying, you know? I’ve been brought up to be self-sufficient, to
be a force to be reckoned with. That’s why I opened the cafe, you see. I felt as if I could do
much more by being there for people when they needed a well-made cup of coffee or a
cuppa. It’s not like I’ve been doing nothing since Hogwarts. The cafe runs itself and is paying
for a large portion of my part of the wedding, even if my parents insisted on paying for the
whole thing. I’m not sure where I’m going with this but–”

“I know what you mean,” Seraphina placed a hand on Delilah's upper arm.

“You do?” Delilah looked at her sincerely.

“I do,” Seraphina smiled. “You’re happy about the fact that you’re marrying the love of your
life, but you’re, in a way, trying not to mourn the fact that you’re leaving behind the life that
you’ve grown up living. Being independent is significantly harder to let go of than being
reliant on others.”
“Yes!” Delilah’s hands shot up in exclamation. “See! You get it! This is why I chose you as
my maid of honour!”

Seraphina chuckled and then smirked knowingly. “I thought it was because you didn’t like
the other options nearly as much as you liked me?”

“Semantics,” her friend shushed her.

“Sure,” Seraphina laughed freely.

The heart chose its own destiny, Seraphina pondered as they walked in synchrony. There was
much of history, both muggle and magical, that could be explained by the notion that the
heart chose its own destiny. That there was divine intervention at all avenues of exploration.
Seraphina wondered if there was a cataclysmic explanation as to why she mucked up all of
the love that she was given. She wondered why she felt the need to sabotage herself before
she allowed herself the happiness she even knew she deserved.

She had given herself a lot of time and energy into wondering these things. Maybe there was
no proper explanation why she did the things she did, other than impulse and a fear of letting
go. It would make sense, she thought, to feel so unlovable for so long because you didn’t love
yourself enough, so when someone gave even an ounce of compassion, you were hard-wired
to attack and eliminate the host of that love. Nathaniel loved you so much that you felt the
need to exterminate that love because you, yourself, do not feel worthy of the love you receive
in any capacity.

Seraphina hated when her subconscious was wrong, even more so when it was absolutely
correct. Her subconscious had a way of telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, even if
she didn’t want to hear it. Her subconscious had a way of making her life a living hell, too.
Seraphina hated how shiny she used to be, this untainted image of a woman that hadn’t
ruined everything she touched. She was trying to become her again, but there was a piece of
her that deep down knew that she wouldn’t be able to be that person anymore.

Something that Seraphina learned very quickly was: we aren’t our past, we aren’t even our
future; we are simply our present, and to pretend like we can become the person we were
all those years ago is a fallacy. Becoming the past no better prepares you for the future
than your future prepares you for your past.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Present Day…
Nathaniel wanted to build a home with someone. Call him sappy or even delusional, but at
almost twenty-two, he knew he wanted to have a family and someone to love one day. The
woman in his arms was not that person, though. Grace Williams was not the woman that he
was destined to end up with, and it pained him every single day that he stared at her.

It was because she loved him with every fibre of her being – he had come to this conclusion
just last week. She loved him with every fibre of her being, and they had spent the night of
the club arguing with one another over that fact.

The night of the club – three months ago…

The darkness engulfed them as they walked down the pavement toward the flat that he shared
with his friends. His mouth was quiet, but his thoughts ran rampant and wild. He shouldn’t
have protected her from some creep from the club, and he should’ve stayed with his
girlfriend at their bar as well. Anyone and everyone would tell him that what he did was a
stupid move.

“You’re quiet,” Grace spoke into the darkness.

He knew he was quiet, he bloody knew he wasn’t speaking because he was afraid the words
that left his mouth would shatter the illusion that he was okay. Instead, he peered down at her
with a smile and shrugged. Maybe his disinterest would be better than trying to apologise at
any chance he would get.

“Seriously, Nate, you’re quiet,” she stopped in her tracks.

Her hand grabbed his arm, effortlessly making him pause his momentum. “Can you please
just respond to me?”

“I don’t know what to say; we’re going home.” He spoke in an even tone, trying not to
convey the uncertainty he felt.

The uncertainty wasn’t even warranted. Why was he the uncertain one? Why was he the one
who was trying to act like he didn’t come to protect the woman who effectively ruined his
life for almost two years? So why was he being quiet about the way he acted? He wasn’t even
sure at this point. But there was something that drew him to Seraphina at that moment – this
was something he definitely couldn’t tell his girlfriend.

“ Please, ” it was breathless. “ Just talk to me.”

I still love her. I still love her, and I’m afraid to tell you because you are good to me. You’re
good for me, and I feel as if everything I do now will ruin us, and I don’t want to be the one to
ruin things this time. He couldn’t tell her that, though, because it would spark a fight that he
didn’t want to get into. But maybe they should fight. Maybe they should have this
conversation because if he was going to be subject to Seraphina for the remaining future of
Xander and Delilah's wedding, he would have to be around her.

“Nate,” she looked so fragile.

“Yes?”

“Just talk to me, please.” Grace was pleading now, the lamp of the streetlight casting a halo
down onto her face.

“Grace, can we just go home?” he didn’t walk to talk about this.

He didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He wanted to go into bed, strip their clothes off
and hold on to her as he fell asleep. Maybe if he fell asleep, he could get the image of that
man's hand sliding down Seraphina’s back out of his brain. Maybe if he fell asleep with
Grace in his arms, he would feel the feelings he had for her again. Right now, he couldn’t feel
anything other than the overwhelming desire to get out of the conflict she was about to raise.

“What?” she asked incredulously.

“Can we please just go home?”

She was looking at him with a dumbfounded look on her face. He was a dick, he was a
terrible person, and he bloody well knew it. Looking at Grace and the way she was looking at
him as if she was about to receive the worst news of her life – pained him. He wanted to just
go to bed; he really wished she would just let him go to bed.

“No.”

This was not the answer he was expecting from her. The resounding no was shocking,
sending an electric current through his body as he stared down at her. Brown hair mussed
from all of the dancing she had forced him to do, a sheen of sweat that had dried into a glow
on her forehead. She was beautiful, and she looked like a fallen angel as she stared up at him,
eyes glassy with the threat of frustrated tears.

He was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to touch her if he tried to get her to come
with him. If he tried to coax her into coming home with him now, it would end up in a war
when the battle seemed like it was about to start.

“No,” he whispered. “Grace…”

“No, Nate!” she snapped.

“Let's just go home; let’s not do this in the street.”

“I want to do this in the street!” she huffed her arms.

“Well, I don't!” he snapped.

“This isn’t about what you want!”

“Then what is this about!”

“It’s about how you never fight with me!”

“I don’t want to fight, Grace!”

“Fight with me, Nate!” she was shaking. “Fight with me! Fight for me! Because the second
that she came back into our lives, you’ve been distant, and I’ve tried to pretend it’s not
happening, but I saw it! Tonight I saw it! You chose her; you fought for her! You always
choose her, and she never chooses you! But I’m here! And I’m choosing you, but all you’re
doing is wishing you were with her!”

“So this is about Seraphina,” he chuckled.

“It’s always about Seraphina, you idiot,” she snapped, crossing her arms.

Somehow, she separated herself further from him in this argument, standing back a few steps.
He wondered if he stepped forward now, whether she would step backward, or if she would
allow him into her space. There was this piece of him that didn’t want to step into her
personal space, though he didn’t want to see her walk away. Or worse, he didn’t want her to
welcome him back.

“Seraphina is irrelevant,” he gave a flippant gesture.

“No, she’s not!” she screeched. “She’s everywhere! She’s back at the flat; she’s at the club.
She’s on Bethany’s phone! She’s everywhere ! She’s in the room when you lose focus; it’s
almost as if I can tell you’re thinking about her. Ever since she came back into our lives, she’s
been the elephant in the room that no one acknowledges! Do you want her? If you want her,
you can have her, but just spare me the bloody agony of having to watch you get up a–”

“I don’t want her!” he exhaled loudly.

“But you do! Nate, you do! You want her because when something happens, you go to her
aid. When she walks into the room, the oxygen seems to get sucked out of it, and your focus
is only attached to her! You don’t want me the way that you want her. I don’t think you ever
will,” she finished it with a whisper.

“Grace,” he took a chance to step close to her.

She didn’t step away this time; she looked up at him with her big eyes that had tears
threatening to spill over. He risked placing his hand on her cheek, but she didn’t step away.
Instead, the tear that had been threatening to spill during her monologue silently slipped from
her eye, saturating his thumb. “I don’t want her,” he whispered.

“You do,” it was almost inaudible.

“She left me, Grace,” he began. “She left me, and she let me fall into a million pieces. While
she was on the other side of the world, I was drinking myself into oblivion in my godfathers'
cottage. While she was doing god-knows-what, I was losing myself to the fear of letting go,”
he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “She left me, Grace. She walked away with no
intention of coming back, and when she came back, she didn’t have much to say. She had
nothing to say, in fact. So no, Grace, I don’t want her. I have known her since we were kids. I
care about her well-being, but I don’t want her. Why would I want her when I have you?”

Grace was crying in his arms, heavy sobs racking her body as she threw herself into his arms.
He knew the last part was him trying to convince himself. If he spoke the words into
existence enough times, then maybe his brain and his heart would agree. Maybe his heart
would grow up and agree that his brain was right. Because if he continued to hold Grace the
way that he was holding Grace, then maybe he could let the warmth of her seep into his soul
and capture it in the way that he had once let it build a home before.

“Are you sure?” she questioned to his chest.

“I’m sure,” he leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. “We can get through this. We can
get over her being the elephant in the room. She isn’t you, Grace. She will never be you, and
I want you.”

“We can get through this,” she repeated.

“ We can get through this.”

He ran his arms down hers and grabbed her hands, slowly peeling her from his body. His
thumb ran over his knuckles as they began their walk toward his flat once more. Silence this
time wasn’t tense, but hopeful. When they got back into his room, he forewent stripping
down naked to hold her. Instead, he gave her his shirt, threw on a pair of flannel pants and
drew the sheets over the bed, and pulled her in. As he held her, watched sleep take over her
body, he stared into the distance of his room and wondered how many arguments they would
have about Seraphina.

Would they always fight like this? Would there always be this sort of tension that needed to
be broken? He wanted so badly to never feel the pain he felt when he watched Grace tear
herself down to get him to pay one singular ounce of attention to him. He should be a better
man, a better boyfriend, and a better lover. But in order to do that, he needed to let Seraphina
go. He needed to let her go because he couldn’t be someone who let the woman he cared
about feel as if she wasn’t worthy of the love she gave.

Letting go of Seraphina would come in stages, and he would have to tackle them better than
he had before. Because he could love Grace, he could love the woman in his arms; he had to
love her. But his thoughts and plans for getting over the woman that haunted his dreams
disappeared into a hypothetical as he finally allowed exhaustion to take over his body.

Present day…

His plans were no longer working. He had been doing so well for so long. He was even
somehow able to sit in the same room as Seraphina and Grace and pay attention to his
girlfriend over her. But there was nothing left to contest. He was an absolute asshole for
keeping her in his bed, caring for her, and caring about another woman who didn’t seem to
care about him at all.

Seraphina had been notably absent from all group events, and that was something he
desperately wanted not to affect what he was doing. He didn’t want it to influence all the hard
work he had already accomplished. He knew it was all a farce. He was a farce.

Leaning over, he kissed Grace’s head before lifting his covers from his side and slipping from
his bed. He tiptoed around and slowly opened the door. As he stepped over the threshold, he
turned to take one last look at Grace, who hadn’t stirred from her spot in his bed. Slipping
from bed before her had become a routine, one that he hated doing.

“You’re up early,” Fiona whispered.

He looked up at the clock in their living room and noted the hands – 5:34am. Letting out an
exhale, he looked up at the dark-haired witch sitting at their counter with a smirk over her
mug. “I can’t sleep either.” Her voice was quiet.

“What has you up?” he treaded towards her.

“What has you up,” she retorted.

“Fi,” he warned.

“Bethany is worried about Seraphina and she kicked me out of bed because I told her to stop
worrying,” she admitted. “Now you go.”

“The woman in my bed is perfect, wonderful, and everything I want to love, but I can’t.” he
exhaled.

They stood there for a moment staring at one another before Fiona stood up from her spot
and grabbed him a mug and a bottle of Baileys. With a raised brow, she sat down at her same
spot with a smirk – hinting that she had done it to her mug already. He let out a steady exhale,
uncapped the bottle and poured generously before grabbing the stale coffee and filling the
mug to the brim.

Nathaniel took a long sip, wincing at the heat when it touched his lips and tongue. “This is
terrible,” he croaked out.

“It’s not bad after your second glass,” she shrugged.

“It’s only five forty in the morning,” he chuckled.

“I’ve been up since five.”

“Go to bed, Fi,” he chuckled.

“You go back to bed,” came her retort.

They stared at one another without a word. Both of them knew that they wouldn’t speak on
the subject of going back to bed – however, they were avoiding the elephant that they both
knew was in the room. The very Seraphina-sized elephant in the room. “I have to meet with
her today,” he muttered.

“There it is,” Fiona tipped her glass towards him. “Enjoy your execution. I’m convinced my
brother actually might hate you.”

“Me as well,” he grumbled.

“When do you meet her?” Fiona cocked her head to the side.

“Seven,” he whispered.

“That’s so early.”

“If it’s done early, then I don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day,” Nathaniel
explained.

Nathaniel glanced up at the clock to calculate how long he had until he had to turn into a
different person. How much time did he have to put on the mask that he so hated putting on?
Would anyone know? Or would there be an unspoken rule about who he was now, not being
the person he used to be back then?

“You’re going for coffee with Seraphina?” Bethany’s voice came from behind him.

Turning around, he looked at the blonde who wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, eyes heavy
with sleep. Fiona had tensed in front of him, her eyes dancing between Nate and her
girlfriend. There was no point of hiding the truth from his roommate – he knew this to be
true, but he also knew that it would cause tension in the flat.

“Yeah, I am,” he whispered.

“Can you tell her to call me?” she spoke slowly as she padded towards the pot of coffee.

“Yeah.”

Bethany nodded her head as she poured the baileys into the mug and followed it with coffee,
grimacing much like he had previously done. Both Nathaniel and Fiona laughed at her
reaction, turning into full-blown laughter between the three of them. It had been so long since
all of them had a moment where they didn’t feel like there was this barrier between all of
them. Nathaniel supposed that if he was honest, he didn’t feel like he was someone who
belonged for a while.

Belonging meant that he felt comfortable about his choices in his own skin. This, however,
this feeling made him nauseous. He placed his cup down on the counter and turned towards
his room. She was still in bed, probably sleeping, peaceful and oblivious. But she wasn’t
oblivious, was she? She always knew – she was just staying quiet because it was easier.

“Grace,” he whispered as he slipped back under the covers.

“Mmm,” she rolled over, sleep prevalent in her reaction. “Good morning,” a sleepy smile
formed on her face.

“I have to go to that meeting,” he muttered into her hair.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered sleepily.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know you don’t, but you have to,” she opened her eyes, peering up at him. “It’ll be fine,
Nate.”

“Are you sure?” he slipped a strand of her messy hair over her ear.

“You don’t need my permission to be the best man of your friends’ wedding,” Grace
chuckled lightly.

“I know but–”

“No ‘buts’,” she placed her finger over his lips. “Everything is fine, everything will be fine,
we have been fine.”

He didn’t have the heart to argue with her so early in the morning when she was wrapped
around him like a blanket of safety. Grace had become paramount to understanding how he
could love someone simply and with no constraints. The only problem in loving her so
simply was that it never really was a love that expanded past the walls of his heart, not in the
way he had once loved before. It didn’t fill him up to the brim and threaten to flow over like
it used to. His love for Grace was simple, unproblematic, and unfulfilling. It was a love that
would fizzle away into the night if he let it, a love that would become a gentle hum in the
chaos of the world.

“I have to go,” he lamented.

“Okay,” she whispered against his lips, stealing a kiss before he left.

Letting Grace steal a kiss was easy, he gave them up freely, as if they were reserved to give
away. He never stole any back, he didn’t want to steal anything from her if he didn’t have to.
But she had stolen kisses in the night, in the morning, and in the hours in between. She stole
minutes that turned into hours, days that turned into months but never years. He let her steal
his time and his kisses because he couldn’t offer her any more to steal. If he did, he would
have to admit that they were never his to give to her.

He let his hands trail down her arms until they pulled her close to a final embrace of their
morning. She let out a protesting groan as he moved out of the sheets once more, searching
his closet for the right shirt. It was morning, the air would be crisp, and for some reason, he
knew deep within his heart he would be cold under the gaze of moss and emerald green eyes.

Switching out his grey joggers for a pair of dark blue trousers, Nathaniel opened the door to
his room and slipped out once more. Bethany and Fiona gave him a knowing look as he
walked past the two witches and towards the front door. Seraphina hadn’t said much
regarding where they would meet, only Diagon at the coffee shop . He had presumed that she
meant Delilah’s business but didn’t bother asking any more questions when her letter had
come to his window.

“Good luck,” and “Remember what I said,” came from the two witches as he departed from
their shared flat in Diagon Alley.

She was standing outside of Budino wearing a white silk shirt, black trousers, heel boots and
a long jacket that swallowed her whole. As he walked towards her, a smile erupted on her
face before slipping away and being replaced by a gentle upturn of her lips. Nathaniel hated
that he watched her check her own emotions back into reality upon his arrival. He wanted to
see her smile – she always had the most beautiful smile.

“Morning,” came her melodic tone. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“It’s quite early, Seraphina,” he noted.

“Yes, I apologise. I have to meet Celeste today as well, but I wanted to get this in before
doing so.”

“How is Celeste?” He asked as they fell into step when they walked into the cafe.

“She’s good!” she smiled. I still love you . “Thomas is in from America, so she’s been well.”

“Thomas?” he questioned as they sat down at the table.

“Her boyfriend,” Seraphina noted, still standing. “Same thing as always?”

She didn’t give him an opportunity to reply as she walked towards the counter, speaking
animatedly to the worker. He watched, no, he observed her movements. Seraphina was
comfortable here, as if she had come every single morning. Her order was already placed in
front of her as she ordered his, paying as they handed her the second mug.

“So I wanted to talk about the wedding,” she smiled as she sat down.

He looked at her, dumbfounded, as his eyes moved from her to the mug in front of him and
then back to her. She had remembered. It was an obvious thing to remember about someone
who she had known for so long, but still, he didn’t expect her to.

She caught his movements and then stared in horror at the coffee in front of him. “Oh, did
you change your usual? I’m sorry, I should have waited for confirmation before just walking
away,” she rushed the sentence out as she went to grab the mug.

“No,” his hand shot out to hers, effectively stopping her. “It’s still what I order.”

Nathaniel was just now realising that his hand was wrapped around hers, warmth against the
cold, and her eyes stared up at him in horror just as the same emotion etched itself on his
face. As if the world moved slowly, he removed his hand from hers, and she pulled hers back
towards her body in an agonising pace.
“Sorry,” they both spoke simultaneously.

“No,” he began. “It’s fine, yes. This is still my favourite.” You’ve always been my favourite.

“Good. Er– yes, okay,” she tried to right herself.

He watched as she shuffled the cup in front of her, rolling the saucer three times until the cup
was facing the way it had once faced her before. She tried to pick up the spoon but her hands
opened and closed in anticipation. It was as if her brain was short-circuiting, as if she had
been holding herself together and their touch had unravelled her. Her eyes were unfocused,
searching back and forth on the table, all the while not finding anything.

In a stupid decision, he grabbed her hands once more, his eyes searching for her. “You
wanted to talk about the wedding,” he reminded her.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Stupid

Stupid

Stupid

Why would you think he would get the same thing?

You didn’t even ask him what he wanted

You just went and grabbed the coffee like you used to

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl

“You wanted to talk about the wedding,” his voice searched for her in the fog of her mind.

Yes, you wanted to talk about the wedding

But you assumed what he wanted

Stupid girl.

Stupid

Stupid
Stupid

“Seraphina,” his voice was a whisper.

Don’t go to him

You don’t deserve this kindness

He pities you

Mistakes that you made

Stupid girl

Stupid

Stupid

“Come back to me, Seraphina,” he pleaded.

You did this to yourself

You fucked up again

You tried

You tried and you failed

Imagine doing that again?

How could you be so stupid?

Stupid girl

Stupid

“Please,” he was closer in her mind now. “Sera.”

You don’t deserve this

You don’t deserve them

They’ll never care again

You fucked it up

Stupid gi–

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She snapped out of it, her eyes glued to his.

“Right,” she cleared her throat. “Yes, so this is what I have planned…”
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Been sitting on this one for a while, you're welcome for the upload. I might pitch myself
off the bell tower at my university now!

Four months ago…

He was sitting in her home, waiting as she prepared some sort of ‘brunch’ for the two of
them. He had been visiting in the mornings whenever he could, opting to engage in small talk
instead of deep, meaningful conversations. It was working well, too, if he really analysed the
conversations they had.

In truth, it was easier for him to get a morsel of information about the woman that she had
become when they talked about meaningless things. He had learned about her passions now,
much different than what they had been twenty years ago. She mentioned briefly that her
mastery of charms had slipped away into nothingness when she had Celeste. Something
about wanting to be there for her in the way that she felt her mother wasn’t permitted to be
when she was younger.

She wanted to fix the discrepancies with her childhood for Celeste because it was what she
deserved.

He learned about how she had once been obsessed with sweets, but after Celeste, she
favoured savoury foods instead. He learned more about Hermione when she wasn’t aware he
was trying to learn about her. It was when she realised his intentions that her walls went back
up. Draco pondered at night about this phenomenon – whether it was normal for someone to
shut someone out when all they wanted to do was get to know them. He wondered
momentarily if it was because he didn’t go looking for her – or alternatively because she
didn’t go searching for him.

Their lack of addressing the issue of their past was eating him alive when his mind wandered
in the dark of night. He wanted to love her as he once did before. He wanted to understand
her, understand them; he wanted to try. He never wanted to fucking try – but somehow, only
for Hermione… he was willing to be the experiment in his own life and try something new.

“Let me romance you,” he spoke quietly.

“What?” Hermione turned around with a laugh.

“Let me romance you,” he insisted once more. “Let me take you out on dates. The way I
should have the first time. Let me romance you, Hermione, the proper way. The way I was
supposed to.”

“You’re crazy,” she laughed, turning around.

“No, I’m not,” he stood. “I want to romance you. I want to hold your hand and whisper how
beautiful you look in your ear. I want the chance to make you fall in love with me again. Let
me romance you, Hermione. I can be so good for you if you’d let me romance you.”

“I–”

“Do you want to be romanced?” he quirked a brow.

“It’s been years since I’ve been on a date,” she chuckled.

“So you are due for one, then.”

She scoffed in return to his sentiment; she would be harder to crack than he anticipated.“Let
me romance you, Hermione. I can get down on my knees if you’d like me to.”

She looked at the floor, eyes motioning for him to get down. “Would you?”

He didn’t answer verbally, instead humbling himself and lowering to his knees in front of her.
Her eyes tracked his movements, watching in anticipation as he kneeled. She had previously
been making food for them to have this morning, the eggs now long forgotten as the spatula
remained statuesque in her hands. Time seemed to lag as he inched his hands up her body.
They made a slow sweep from her calves – up behind her knees, caressing the skin of the
back of her thighs – to now, where they rested on her hips.

“Let me romance you, Hermione,” he pleaded, looking up at her.

There was a moment's breath before she placed the spatula down on the counter and lowered
the gas flame of her stove element. She let her hands trail the white-blonde locks of his hair,
nails scratching at his scalp with a smirk painted on her face. “You may romance me.”

“You’re something else,” he spoke with an exhale.

“You like it,” she smiled down at him.

“I do.”

A silence hung over them as he remained stationed on his knees, and her hands continued
their exploration of his hair. It almost felt domestic – this feeling of comfort that they lacked
for years. He wanted to tell her about the dreams he had made for them, the home he had
built for her. He wanted to take her there, move her in, and never let her leave. Draco wanted
to make new memories with Hermione, not replace the old ones.

“Oh, get up, will you?” she laughed, her hands grabbing hold of his and hauling him
upwards.
He stood with a chuckle, lacing his fingers with her. “I’m going to romance the heck out of
you, Hermione Krum,” he smiled, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“I can’t wait to see you try.” It was a childish grin that painted her lips at that moment.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Hermione half expected him to be joking about romancing her, but the sheer determination in
his face after she said she couldn’t wait to see him try was something she hadn’t seen in years
. She hated to admit it to herself, but the thought of him putting in such an effort to care for
her once more made her pulse quicken. Something she was afraid to admit was the fact that
she wanted him to.

She was acutely aware that somehow he had slipped back into her life after all these years.
She was also aware that it scared the hell out of her. The thought of having him back and
having him present in a world that she built only for herself and Celeste was terrifying.

Furthermore, she didn’t have a valid argument as to why it was terrifying other than she,
herself, was someone who didn’t like change. She also didn’t like not having control, and his
presence was testing every last shred of her capacity to give it up.

“You look pretty,” her daughter’s voice came from her doorway.

“Celeste,” Hermione breathed.

“Hi, mum.”

She hadn’t seen her daughter in far too long, and the fact that she was standing there at the
threshold of her room had reset Hermione's brain. When a gentleman walked up behind her
daughter, Hermione swore her world had tilted on a different axis entirely.

“Who is this?” she raised her hand in a gesture to the gentleman.

“Mum,” Celeste let out an exhale. “This is Thomas.”

“Oh, so this is the gentleman you abandoned your dear mother for in America,” Hermione
smiled as she walked forward. “It’s lovely to meet you, Thomas.”

She pulled the younger man into a hug, looking at her daughter with raised eyebrows in
appraisal of the man she knew that Celeste had slowly but surely fallen in love with. “Come,
come, children, I’ll make you both some tea.”

“Oh, mum, it’s okay, we were just stopping by,” Celeste admonished.
“Perfect, so you’ll have some time to have a cup with your ageing mother,” Hermione
laughed.

“You’re forty, not one hundred, and on the brink of death,” her daughter smiled at her.

“Forty, on the brink of death, basically the same thing.” She waved her hand at her daughter
and led the trio into the kitchen, where Celeste and Thomas sat down and watched as she
moved around the kitchen.

She peeked momentarily at Celeste and Thomas, who had his arm around the back of her
chair and a smile on his face. Celeste, in turn, had her body turned towards him, eyes staring
up into his and a laugh bubbling out of her chest like the way it used to when she was a child.
Hermione let her lips upturn before moving back to the kettle and readying her teapot too
steep.

“How have you been, mum?” Celeste asked.

How had she been? The question was loaded in any regard that it could be asked. In truth,
she had been quite shit, really. How was she to tell her daughter that she was afraid to care
about her father? How was Hermione supposed to look her daughter in the eye and say she
wanted to disappear, but she was fighting with every instinct in her core to stay on the path of
least resistance? Then she had to look at her, look at the person she made from scratch, and
admit that she wasn’t perfect and that she wished desperately that she could go back in time
and change the trajectory of her life.

She wouldn’t go back in time, though, because how could she erase all of the good years in
favour of a few bad moments?

The kettle was screaming.

Screaming like the war that raged in her mind.

“Mum?” her daughter looked at her with concern.

“Yes,” Hermione visibly shook her head. “I’ve been good, darling.”

“Are you sure?”

A knock on the door.

Her heart seemed to stop beating.

If time could stand still, it would almost move backward; at least, she wished it could move
backward because then she wouldn’t be staring down the corridor and watching her daughter
walk toward their door. If she had the capacity to change the trajectory of time, she would
end things at this moment and reverse them accordingly. Gods, she wished she could do that,
but then Celeste swung the door open.
___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Hours Beforehand…

He was taking her out. He was romancing her. He was going to make Hermione his again. It
was a concept that seemed so simple, but he couldn’t conceptualise it. If he had asked his
younger self if he would see Hermione again or even love her again, he’d have laughed in
their face, picked up a bottle of scotch, and drank himself to oblivion. But he was going to
romance her, make her believe the truth that was this: he had loved Hermione Granger before
she was Hermione Krum, and though her surname had changed through no fault of their own,
he knew there was a part of him that would love her forever.

He had gotten ready far earlier than he should have, and now he stood in the rented room of a
hotel he couldn’t remember the name of, staring at himself in the mirror. It had been too long
since he had been on a date. It had been too long since he had entertained even the slightest
potential of love. Now? He wanted to give that love to Hermione again. He wanted to love
her like he used to.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? They weren’t twenty anymore. They weren’t sneaking
off on romantic rendezvous every time Hermione slipped away from that carrot-headed
atrocity she had once called a fiancé. Now they were nearing an age he couldn’t mutter the
number of, though ageing was different for wizarding folk, wasn’t it? Sure, he had smile and
frown lines, but it was a testament to the years he spent laughing and the years he spent in
mourning. He had built a name for himself outside of his family’s legacy. He had become the
man he wanted to be – not the one his father expected. And though maybe that wasn’t enough
for Hermione once, it was enough for him now. He was enough. He had always been enough.

The cellular on his bedside began to ring. The insipid sound of its shrilling caused Draco to
grimace inwardly. He hated cell phones and much-preferred letters. But, the truth behind the
device in his hand ran too deep and too dark to be analysed just yet.

“Hello?”

“Draco, before you hang up,” it was Daphne on the other end. “I wanted to say have fun
tonight.”

“How do you know about tonight?” he wondered aloud.

“Hermione.”

“Hermione?”

“Hermione,” she affirmed resolutely. “Don’t muck it up.”

“I should cut both you and your husband off for meddling,” groaned Draco. “But
unfortunately, I do care about you both like family.”

“We love you too!” came Theo’s echo.

“Daphne, for the love of all that is good, learn to keep the phone off the speaker.”

“Bye Draco!” They chimed together.

He smiled into the device as he slowly removed it from his ear. As meddlesome as his friends
had evidently become over the years, they had always retained an element of loyalty. Daphne
would do anything for her family. She would go to the ends of the earth to ensure their
happiness. Theo would sacrifice himself if that meant that everyone he loved was taken care
of. In a way, he was thankful they had been so far removed from the war. Because if they
weren’t, it would’ve ruined them in ways they would’ve never come back from.

Daphne and Theo had always been the best of all of them. So much so that when they finally
announced they were together, it seemed only natural for them. He had always been envious
of their natural love because why did the universe grant something so easily to some, but
others have to starve themselves at their creator’s altar in order to get just an ounce of
recognition. Despite this inequity, he laughed at their meddlesome tendencies and let himself
enjoy the affection they radiated. Because if he removed himself from all of that now, he was
certain he would never recover from it later.

His mind wandered to the world that he missed out on. Had many things changed for her?
Were things similar? What the hell happened to Crookshanks ? These were all very important
questions he desperately needed the answer to.

“It would be weird if I showed up early, correct?” he asked no one in particular.

“It would be weird,” he needed to stop talking to himself.

But he still had two and a half hours until he was meant to arrive at Hermione’s, and he’d be
damned if he showed up far too early for a date he had practically begged for. The intrusive
thoughts were beginning to thread their way into his mind, gripping onto his doubt and
enhancing it. Had he begged too much? What if he had been preparing to romance Hermione
all this time only for her to reject him again?

He knew that, logically, this wasn’t true. That Hermione wasn’t doing this out of pity. That
there had to have been some sort of spark left lingering between them. But he was afraid of
the unknown, always had been. The one time he had taken a chance on the unknown – on the
future he was afraid of – he was let down. Perhaps he should have been more honest in the
beginning about how the past fucked him up. Maybe if he said that her leaving him at that
tree was the reason he felt like he could never love again, perhaps it would all be easier. But
he couldn’t tell her that. He wouldn’t.

Glancing at the clock, he wondered what he could do. He could read the singular book that he
brought, but he had grabbed it from his personal library not because he wanted to read it, but
because bringing a book around Hermione Gra –Krum would be a good idea. The Subtle Art
of Not Giving a F*ck seemed like a good read, he wanted to live a good life. He actually
strived to live a good life.

So he flipped open the first page and delved in. Time passed slower but faster at the same
time. Perhaps it was because the writing was abysmal at best. Truly, did anyone read this and
actually get something out of it? Sure, the idea that one cannot truly find happiness through
an external-driven idea of success was okay. But had this Manson guy ever heard of maybe
fucking right off? Especially since Draco felt a little bit called out and exceptionally pissed
off by the time he threw the book across the room.

“Fuck you,” he spat at the book.

Standing from the chair he checked the clock reading thirty minutes before he had agreed to
pick up Granger. Even if he left now, he would probably be there far too early, and he knew
how much she hated people running into her plans for the day. Or, at least, she used to. He
wondered if she liked the things she used to in her present-day reality.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Return

/rəˈtərn/

Verb

come or go back to a place or a person

Noun

an act of coming or going back to a place or activity

The act of returning presents the person with an array of conflicting emotions. Typically,
when one is to set someone free, if it is meant to be, they will come back. In this story, the act
of setting one free hasn’t all been black and white. To Hermione Krum, setting Draco Malfoy
free came with complex emotions and resentment. For Seraphina Languir, letting go of
Nathaniel Nott was like pulling out the stitches one by one from a wound that never fully
healed. It was painful. It was a part of their life story that no one could interfere with. In the
end, what ends must always come back to a beginning.
Now, as this story continues and the tone shifts, what Hermione and Draco begin to
understand is that their cyclical nature is inevitable. That the truth of their mirrored
counterparts in Seraphina and Nathaniel experiencing the healing they never received is just
that. Healing. If Seraphina and Nathaniel were able to move forward in their own ways, then
they must be able to do it themselves. Because Hermione and Draco had created something
much bigger than themselves. And though they do have a daughter, and her name is Celeste.
And though that daughter is about to open the door to meet her father face-to-face for the first
time… what they don’t realise is their creation isn’t her. It is, but it isn’t. Their creation is the
universal truth that the past doesn’t condemn the future.

The darkness, lightness, time’s infinite notion, and questioning why everything happens are
the ambiguities of the future. A future that one cannot return to. Instead, the individual can
return with their partner… ready to venture into the unknown once more.

___________________________________________________________________________
__________

Celeste walked down the hallway and to the front door. She wondered momentarily why her
mother looked confused and why she had twitched when the knock came from behind them.
Wondering why her mother did the things she did would be the end of her sanity, though. So
her hand turned the knob on the door, and she swung it open. Celeste wasn’t sure what she
was expecting to see, but the vision of her father staring back at her was not what she
anticipated.

His expression told her he surmised the same. His eyes, brighter than the reflection of the sun
off of snow, matched hers, wide and unknowing. She had pictured her father up close, of
course. But none of those visions that danced behind her eyes at night came close to the truth.
She was her mother's daughter, certainly. But she was every bit as much her father's, too, and
he seemed to recognise that the second she did.

“Celeste?” His voice was a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that she wasn’t real.

Dad had been reserved for the man she knew all of her life. The man she mourned after her
mother, and she buried him six feet under. The man before her was no more her father than
Uncle Theo was and, therefore, did not reserve the right of the title she once gave to Viktor.
Instead, she settled on formalities. Those at least were safe. “Dr. Malfoy, please, come in.”
 Chapter 7

“Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken”

Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

In the distance of her home, Hermione heard the words she never expected her daughter to
speak. Now, she knew she would never be able to hide her birth father from Celeste for her
entire life… but she had been successful at avoiding the conflict of father meeting daughter
for twenty years. Now, she waited in horror for a lifetime she hid from both of them. In her
defense, and she would argue it with fervour, she had told Draco about his daughter. She had
sent the letters, but it was he who had never read them on time.

Yes, this was her argument. An argument that started out as convincing herself it was the
correct one to the point she believed it was true. Hermione knew the implications of lying to
herself consistently for years. She knew that if she told herself something was the truth she
would inevitably come to believe its words. So when Celeste rounded the corner with Draco
walking slowly behind her, Hermione realised how much time had been stolen.

“Mum, someone is here for you.”

He looked petrified.

He looked awestruck.

Then his eyes landed on her, and he looked pained beyond belief.

“Draco, this is Celeste,” she gestured to the brunette replica of the both of them.

Her daughter turned to her father and suddenly Hermione was thankful she couldn’t see
Celeste's reactions. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Malfoy .”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Krum .” Good, excellent, they were amicable.

Draco had reached out a hand, awaiting the slip of his daughter's fingers into his, but the
handshake never came. Instead, her daughter turned around and walked over to Thomas who
had been looking back and forth between Celeste, Draco, and Hermione as if finally putting
the puzzle pieces together. Slipping her hand in her boyfriend's, Celeste led him from the
room to leave Hermione standing alone staring at her past. In the distance, as they walked
away, she faintly heard the words, “You really look like that man.” and a muttered, “I know,
he’s my biological father.”

Now Hermione looked at Draco in the eyes anticipating total war. Instead, she received the
faintest words: “She’s beautiful, Hermione.”

“I know,” pride flooded her tone.

It was hard to look at him right now, hard to see how he clearly was wishing for all of the
years he never got. But she couldn’t take a time-turner back all of those years and switch the
trajectory of things. Had things been different, and had she tried harder maybe they wouldn’t
be doing this dance that they were doing. She had been reminding herself that it was okay to
let go, and it was okay to not be okay with how things were shaping up to be. Still, in the
recess of her mind, she inherently waited for the other shoe to drop… for the loose cannon to
fire.

“The plan was to take you to a coffee shop, get to know one another again, then if everything
was going well I would ask you to dinner… again and hopefully not put my foot in my mouth
this time,” he smiled as he walked to her slowly.

“That is extremely thoughtful,” she spoke wistfully.

“Do you still want to go?” his hand grasped hers. “I understand if you would like to spend
time with her instead, I can go back to my hotel.”

It came out much quicker than she had anticipated that it would, but the no that promptly
exited her lips caused a smile to break across his face. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll go back.”

“No, Draco… that’s not what I was saying no to.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Definitely not,” it was almost a laugh. “I want to go. I don’t want you to go back to your
hotel.”

It was probably the most honest thing she had said to him since they reconnected. Hermione
had been more than adequate at not only telling herself but him all of the lies she had come to
believe. But now she had to at least tell the truth. It was becoming debilitating not addressing
how all of this was making her feel. Like a ghost of her past returned and intended to shake
up her entire world.

There were still things she held within her heart though. Before, all those years ago, she had
been open and vulnerable to him. She had allowed him to slip into her heart and claim it as
his. Something that had still reigned true as he stood in front of her. But all of her thoughts
dissipated into silence as the orange fluff of Crookshanks slowly came into her line of sight.

With movements that represented twenty years of aging, Crookshanks wrapped his body
around Draco's leg. Draco’s eyes held the shock he was evidently trying to hide at the
contact. Hermione, on the other hand, had been all too shocked that her kneazle had finally
made an appearance in the kitchen.

“He’s still alive?” the disbelief was evident in his tone.

“He is,” it came out as a whisper.

Like an old motor came to life, Crookshanks began to purr. Still watching the interaction with
shock, her eyes widened further, almost comically, when Draco dipped at the waist and
picked up the old cat. She had forgotten about the affection the two held for one another, that
it had been hard-earned and long overdue to be reunited.

London, 2000

“He hates me.” Draco groaned as the cat swatted at him once more.

Hermione erupted in melodic laughter, “He likes you more if you don’t pay attention to him,”
she reminded.

“But I want him to like me.”

Draco had been like a child about the whole situation. Every opportunity he had, he put his
energy into trying to convince her companion to share the same sentiment he held for him.
Instead, it had resulted in Crookshanks avoiding him, or worse, injuring him. It had
frequently become an inside joke to herself to bet how many times Draco would cry out in
pain at the impact of Crookshanks’ claws.

“He will like you,” she promised as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “It just takes
time. He can’t be told what to do much like someone else I know.”

“Are you comparing me to your cat?”

She contemplated lying to him for a moment, the potential was hanging in the air. But the
truth was quite the opposite, “yes. Yes, I am.”

Draco looked down at her, a grin erupting in his features. There were moments when she
considered Draco Malfoy to be wholly beautiful, but none of them ever compared to the
moments when he looked at her. When Draco Malfoy looked at her, he looked at her like she
was his whole world as if Hermione had been the Galactic Centre of the Milky Way Galaxy –
the black hole that magnetised Draco with a grip that pulled him into her abyss. His family
traditionally named one another after celestial bodies, but what Draco had never anticipated
was that the woman he would fall in love with would emulate Sagittarius A*, a mass that
would swallow his whole world.

“You’re such a cheeky little swot,” his lips met the juncture of her neck and collar.
Hermione sighed at the contact, a blissful sound that echoed around them. Over the months
they had become attuned to one another's breath, the subtle shift in their positions, they had
become an extension of themselves even though they had been keeping everything a secret.

In stolen moments they created a lifetime and in words that were whispered into the wind and
written in the stars, they manifested their legacy. Time was irrelevant when it came to them.

It had always been irrelevant.

Because they were inevitable.

“I love you,” he dropped the strap of her camisole off her shoulder.

A whisper of response came from her lips while his fingers danced down the now bumpy
skin of her arm. Her body erupted in gooseflesh when he touched her, even worse, she felt
like she had been in a trance the whole time. “I love you,” she repeated with more force.

In his flat in Paris, Draco picked her up from the back of her thighs and walked her through
the hallway and towards the master bedroom. In his flat in Paris, Hermione reminded herself
that a weekend away with him and her cat had been everything she wanted and when he laid
her onto the comfort of her bed she stared up at him in adoration.

“I love you,” his eyes softened.

“I love you,” she vowed.

Her heart fluttered against her ribcage when he lowered himself so they were facing one
another. When his hand dipped under her camisole and danced against the silk of her skirt she
sighed at the feeling of calloused fingers on smooth skin. Her heart called out his name and
chanted it like a prayer all the while her lips earned the affection of his own.

“Did you wear these for me?” he spoke from between her thighs.

She wasn’t sure how she missed his movements or how she disregarded his touch whilst her
senses took over. But now he was between her thighs, his lips kissing the sensitive flesh
adjacent to her core and though she knew he had memorised every sigh and whimper she
would eventually emit; there was still an element of virginity to it all. Every time, though it
wasn’t, had felt like their first. As if even though the time had passed for him to know exactly
what she liked and didn’t like, she felt brand new every time.

“You know the answer to that,” she rolled her eyes.

A petulant smile erupted across his lips before he ducked into the warmth of her, blowing
cold air against scorching skin. “Want to try that answer again?”

“Want to try teasing me more?”

With a featherlight touch, he ran his fingers up her inner thigh, over the lace that covered her,
and back down. Hermione had known the game she was playing, a game she intended to win.
Instead, she lost herself in her mind in an attempt to block him out. It was a challenge, and
though this whole ordeal had never intended to end up this way, it had… and now she was
living with the consequences.

“This wasn’t going to be a winning strategy,” he laughed in her thoughts.

Of course, he had a way of trumping her in this moment. Of course, he would win. “Then
make me surrender.”

He slid the lace from her body and shucked the silk of her skirt up her waist before attaching
his mouth to where she wanted him most. Movements that made her fall apart with his
tongue were matched with the fullness of his digits filling her. Draco played her with the
delicacy and precision of a master pianist, legato followed by staccato licks. The mixture of
heaven and hell making her fall from grace and into the arms of the only man whom she
considered her safety.

“How was my performance my love ,” he kissed her mind.

She lifted her body by way of her elbows to look at him. “Outstanding my dear.” She reached
down and gripped his chin to pull him to meet her lips.

His hands tangled themselves into her curls and his lips memorised her own. When his hips
met hers she felt the influence of her reaction on his body. When he rolled his hips onto hers,
she ran her fingers under his shirt to feel his skin against her fingertips. As his top came off
and his fingers slipped up and under her camisole ridding her of it his warmth enveloped her.

But now the fabric of his trousers were flush against her core and she was careening at the
sensation. “Take them off,” she demanded.

“As you wish.”

The sentiment opened her heart and reminded her of the time she had forced him to sit in
front of the telly and watch The Princess Bride with her. But all of her thoughts slipped from
her mind when he rolled from her body taking her skirt down with him. So now she laid on
the bed with nothing on as he shed the rest of his clothing from his physique but as soon as he
stood there naked staring at her, she reached out for his hand to pull him back in.

“I love you,” her eyes searched his.

“I’m yours,” he responded in earnest.

They joined as one at that moment, his body meeting hers in a mixture of sighs from each of
their lips. Her hands pulled him in from his waist as his fingers trailed behind her knee and
hitched her leg higher in one languid movement met with the pressure of him deep within
her. Foreheads pressed against one another, eyes meeting and exchanging the vows they had
yet to make. Vows she promised she would give to him and only him. So when the pressure
became too much and the world shattered around her in an atomic explosion in the universe
to wholly embrace her status as Sagittarius A* in his solar system.
Draco followed her into the darkness, his own universe erupting before her eyes. He held
himself above her as he exhaled with a shudder. Her hands caressed his jawline before
pulling him down to kiss his lips. In their own world they set up their home and tangled in
one another's arms. It wasn’t until she woke up hours later that she realised they had fallen
asleep with his arms around her and her back to his chest.

Turning around she peered at his sleeping face which held more peace than she had seen. She
loved him earnestly, wholly, and completely… the man she hadn’t expected to love but had
fallen in a freefall of gravity that pulled her down with the force held on Jupiter. Just then in
the haze of the aftermath of their coupling, Hermione peered down the bed to see the last
creature she expected. Crookshanks had been curled up in a ball at the juncture of Draco’s
bent knees sound asleep.

In the quiet moment she realised that her kneazle had accepted Draco as a part of their family,
one who wasn’t allowed to leave. In Draco Malfoy’s flat in Paris, there had been a ceasefire
in the war between the two men in her life, finally surrendering for the good of the one they
both loved… her.

Present day…

“I missed him,” Draco smiled at her gleefully.

“I think he missed you too.”

End Notes

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