Archive of Our Own

The Child

Draco stared at his daughter, standing several paces away. His daughter. The unfamiliar word brought such a sharp discomfort. Cassiopeia Malfoy—Cassi, the letter said. He scrunched the parchment in his fist and glanced at the child, who peered up at him. He was struck by how closely she resembled her mother, except that her hair was stark blonde. She seemed preposterously small, dwarfed by the grand sitting room. Maybe just motherless.

Barely two minutes earlier, Cassi had been delivered by a house-elf with nothing but a small satchel of clothing, a soft toy in her grasp, and a letter. He hadn’t made it past the first two sentences:

She’s yours. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.

How? How did he have a four-year-old child? Of course he knew the mechanics of creating life, but he and Astoria had slept together only once and purely to ensure Draco received his inheritance. Their marriage had been to satisfy their parents and the betrothal contract written before they were born, but they learnt before they even swapped vows that they were incompatible. Their conversations consisted of musings about the weather. Their silences never failed to exist as prolonged and taut, during which Draco often thought about the many other places he would rather be. There was no ‘learning to love,’ as his mother had tried to impress upon him, not when more time spent with Astoria made it clear that they had no common language.

Once, they slept together—once. And there was the product of their single act of consummation, staring up at him expectantly.

What was he supposed to do with a child? He hadn’t cared for one before. He couldn’t even recall speaking to a child since he was one himself. He didn’t know how to keep them safe or know what they required; although, at this minute, she didn’t seem to require anything. She simply stood there, waiting for guidance from an adult. He supposed that was him. Her father.

Draco’s stomach turned itself inside out. He scrubbed a palm down his mouth just as Cassi glanced around the room, seemingly on the edge of boredom. He didn’t know what to do with an amused child, let alone a bored one. Panic suddenly itched beneath his skin. He checked his watch: nearly half nine.

“I suppose it’s your bedtime…” he said tentatively.

He waited for more, but she simply stared.

“Can you speak?”

Cassi nodded.

He waited for her to say something, but they slipped into a silence oddly reminiscent of that with her mother. Draco felt panic claw at him.

He needed someone else. Anyone else.

In the next instant, he emerged from Pansy’s floo with his hand tightly latched around Cassi's. It had been months since he’d been here. So long that he swept his gaze around the room with his brows knitted. The green damask wallpaper was gone, replaced by cream walls, the dark settees were now plush cotton sofas, and the accents from the doorknobs to the table lamps were now gold instead of silver. So vastly different that he second guessed whether he’d said the correct location.

“Pansy?” he called out.

Nothing.

“Pansy!”

“Draco?” Her heels clapped closer until she met the carpet of the sitting room. She strode forward in violet robes with an air of urgency, the ends of her dark bob bouncing as she went. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I need you to take care of Cassi for me. I don’t know what to do with her. I need you to take her,” he repeated for good measure.

“Who?” Her gaze dropped to the small figure that had just appeared from behind his legs. “Why do you have a child?”

He sighed. “She’s mine.” That very nearly brought up bile.

Pansy’s mouth twitched on the cusp of laughter. But as he stared unblinking and unamused, it dropped abruptly.

“Astoria didn’t—” He stopped mid sentence to cover Cassi’s ears with his palms. “She didn’t tell me about her. She also didn’t tell me she was ill.”

Pansy’s eyes flared wide. She glanced from Draco to the child and back again.

“I need you to take her,” he pressed. “Just for tonight, while I adjust to the idea and prepare things and—”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not allowing you to estrange yourself from yet another person. Certainly not your daughter.”

“That’s not…” He shook his head.

That’s not what he had intended.

But that was a lie. He’d told Pansy it would only be for one night, but in the back of his mind, he was already considering stretching that to two or three. However long it would take to adjust to the idea of living with his daughter. Caring for another person.

“I don’t know what to do.” He paced a line, back and forth, then sunk down into the nearest sofa. “She came with the barest instructions. I don’t know what to feed her or how to put her to sleep—”

“Let’s go.” Pansy sent a clod of floo powder into the flames in the same instant.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to your house.”

Briefly, then, Draco considered whether he was the type of wizard to let panic override his shame and disapparate anywhere else.

But he reluctantly followed Pansy.

After they returned to his sitting room, he trailed behind as she journeyed forward, then took a left and marched down the long hallway. Every room came off of this thoroughfare: the bedrooms, lounge room, gym, and office.

When Pansy bypassed nearly all of them, he asked, “Will you tell me what we’re doing?”

“You’ve a spare bedroom, don’t you?”

The second spare room was on their right. Pansy curved in, Draco and Cassi following shortly behind. He could count the number of times he’d been into this room on one hand. It was furbished by an interior decorator, right down to the white walls, faun coloured duvet, and the stain-glass lamp on the side table.

“You’ll sleep here tonight, darling. Not too shabby, is it?”

Cassi stared up at Pansy, her arms strangling the soft toy against her chest. She cast a cursory glance around the bedroom. Her gaze turned on Draco with fright etched in her brow, and he felt a spear of something. Worry, perhaps. He didn’t want her to feel frightened.

Pansy lifted her wand, and soon, Draco’s pinstripe pyjamas were flying through the open door and into her grasp. “It’s a little late for a bath tonight, so I think it’s straight to bed.”

“This is your plan, is it?” he asked.

“Until you’ve purchased her everything she needs.”

His throat suddenly felt chalky. He hadn’t even considered the lengthy list of items a child might need. This didn’t feel real, despite the very real child standing before him.

Pansy sent Cassi into the en suite to change into the newly shrunken set of pyjamas then turned to Draco. “You know who is perfectly placed to help you?”

“Do not say my mother.”

“Well, she has a whole manor of rooms, including your old nursery, and she reared you into something passable.” She narrowed her eyes. “Although lately, I’m not so sure about that.”

“I haven’t spoken to them since the separation and you think it’s a good idea to turn up with a child and ask for help?”

“I think it’s a better idea than the none that you have.”

Cassi pulled the door wide to reveal herself standing in a pair of bottoms at least two sizes two large, smothering her feet, and a shirt that was nearly the right size except with only two buttons fastened in the wrong holes.

“I’ll fix that up for you,” said Pansy, already swiping her wand to make the adjustments.

As Draco watched, he no longer felt one with his body. It was almost as if he saw himself from the outside: sweaty, peaky and panicked. His greatest worry an hour ago was choosing between two newly released novels for bedtime, and now, he was overwhelmed by the care of another person. A person who was apparently his, and refused to say a word.

“Draco, didn't you hear me?” Pansy’s little wave drew his attention. “I don’t suppose you have any children’s books around, do you?”

He sighed. “I do, actually. A few samples for the shop.”

“Then there’s no better time to discover whether they're well received, is there?”

He moved back through the hallway like he was in some sort of incomprehensible nightmare. In a daze and attempting to puzzle his way out. He walked until he met his office at the end and stopped at the overfilled bookshelves to finger the spines of several books before he realised what he needed was on his desk.

Beneath a stack of manuscripts, he found two colourful little books and returned to the spare bedroom with a new fear—reading a silly story aloud. He’d never done that before either. Maybe there was an art to it.

As he approached the bedroom, he heard Pansy. It was rare that he ever heard her speak softly, and that fact in itself caused him to stretch his ears.

“ —and don’t you worry, he’ll learn just the way you like things. He’s just a little… surprised, I suppose, but he is really lovely once you get to know him.”

Draco’s innards stabbed with guilt. He hadn’t seen Pansy for the better part of a year, purely because of his own stubbornness. He didn’t deserve to be talked about in that way.

“Here we go.” Draco rounded into the bedroom and hovered the books towards the bed.

Cassi was tucked into the middle looking smaller than ever. Pansy sat beside, atop the duvet and with her legs outstretched. “The Most Wonderful Fantabulous Unicorn. Sounds promising.”

As she read aloud, he leant back against the wall opposite, attempting to catalogue the items he’d need to purchase for a four year old girl and certain he was coming up short.

How was this happening?

Pansy broke his thoughts as she suddenly ushered him out of the room. Cassi had curled into herself, eyes tight. As she eased the door closed just enough to leave a crack, she cast a small orb of light from the end of her wand and it hovered up to the centre of the ceiling.

“I was always afraid of the dark as a child. Weren’t you?” She stepped past him, not waiting for an answer, and he knew she was making her way towards the floo.

“Wait—what am I supposed to do with her when she wakes up?”

She didn’t bother stopping her stride.

“Pansy, wait…”

She paused a step from the fire and finally turned to see him. There was always a no nonsense look about her, and perhaps that was part of the reason he’d ignored anything to do with her as of late. He was sick of her judging his shortcomings. Judging his inclination to live a quiet life. An isolated life.

“How can I be sure that she’s mine?”

She laughed. “Draco, she looks just like you.”

Her confidence frightened him. Perhaps, just maybe, he was hoping for an out.

“Use your common sense. Her mother is no longer here and you’re her father, you simply just need to figure it out.” She sent floo powder into the fire.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. I'm not going to mollycoddle you any longer, or take the child off your hands and let you sit around and sulk by your lonesome. You're not in a position to do that anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I despise seeing you twice a year, if I'm lucky. And Theo and Blaise miss you terribly.”

He shook his head. This was the last thing he needed right now. “You all remind me of that world.”

“No one is going to force you to marry again, you know that, right?”

“But it still reminds me of my parents and the expectations I couldn’t live up to. I despise it.”

Her fierce expression softened. She sighed. “Draco… if this isn’t the greatest sign it’s time for you to change, then there’s no hope.”

As soon as she disappeared into the fire, he felt panic return at full force, staking into the centre of his chest. It felt as though he had a deadly creature lurking in his house instead of a tiny child. His child. He somehow kept forgetting that part.

Soon, laid in his own bed in the room beside Cassi’s, he couldn’t seem to close his eyes and make them stay. He calculated the dates in his head to determine whether her age did, in fact, match their wedding night, then he listed all the ways in which his days would change now that he needed to consider another person. After years of making his life so small that it was only him, he wasn’t certain how anyone else could possibly fit.

The place filled with loudening cries and Draco sat up with a fright.

He lurched out of bed, in the direction of Cassi’s room, and nudged the door open with his wand. She was sitting up in bed with her face scrunched with her sobbing.

“What is wrong?” Draco lowered his wand and tracked forward, but she continued to weep. He recalled the earlier remark from Pansy. “Are you scared?”

She gave a barely imperceptible nod as she sniffled in a breath through her clogged nose.

His shoulders sagged. He was worried this might occur, and even despite his fretting, he hadn’t determined a solution. How was he supposed to do this? Talk to a child… Like anyone else, he supposed.

He followed what felt natural and sat on the side of her bed. “You have no reason to be scared, Cassi.”

He was scared. He didn’t know how to manage this, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t.

“I’ll take care of you.”

There it was, a promise that he now couldn’t take back. There was no turning up on the doorstep of Astoria’s sister, or returning to his parents with his tail between his legs, or begging Pansy for extended help. This was it. He was it.

“Did anyone explain to you that I’m your father?”

She shook her head and wrapped herself tight. The light Pansy left buoyed to the ceiling glinted in her barely contained tears. She looked at him differently, then, and he realised how stupid he’d been.

“You know your mother has… gone away?”

She nodded and pulled her mouth down.

“But I’m here,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll take care of you,” he repeated. “I promise.”

She stared at him warily for a length, until she curved back down and rested her head to the pillow. Her gaze didn’t stray from her father’s, still watching him with a circumspect eye as he pulled the duvet up over her shoulders. Still assessing his intentions. The longer he stared at her, the clearer the reflection. Maybe the way she carried herself was Astoria, but she was a picture of him. Eyes grey, cheekbones high, skin fair and easily flushed. When he was this age, he enjoyed his mother’s touch up and over his head—it put him to sleep like nothing else.

He lightly tested his palm over her white-blond hair, and when she didn’t register a flinch or whimper, he dragged it down in a soothing stroke. He stayed for some time with his persistent pats until her eyelids fluttered closed, and her breathing became slow and shallow.

Four years. Four years he’d missed of his own child. Learning who she was as a little person—shaping who she was. They were strangers to each other and he utterly despised the thought. Astoria could have owl'd a letter, arrived in his floo, even sent a bloody message on that muggle device and he would have been there. They could have had an arrangement, and then he wouldn’t be so disastrously unprepared.

As Draco marched back to his bedroom, he clenched his teeth thinking of the gall of Astoria. She knew he appreciated order and preparedness, and this was shaping up to be exactly the opposite. He paced across his bedroom like he might outrun the moments-from-bursting pressure in his chest. His eyes heated with tears.

Draco scoured the drawers of the side tables in his bedroom, his bathroom, then his office desk. It wasn’t until he searched in his sock drawer that he rediscovered the mobile phone he’d stuffed away. He had barely been married a month before he separated from Astoria, and it was her suggestion for easy and covert communication as they organised legal matters. From the day they divorced, they never again had reason to discuss anything. He had no reason to work this muggle technology.

As soon as he recalled how to turn on the mobile, a message popped up on the screen. It was dated almost two months earlier.

Was that it? All he was afforded? She knew where he lived. She could have arrived on his hearth mat and he never would have turned her away.

Draco knew perfectly well she was gone and he’d never receive a reply, but even still, he sent a flurry of messages as fast as his fingers could recall how to fashion words on the muggle device.

With no place to put his anger but into this stupid contraption, he panted furious breaths, clenching the mobile in his fist as if he might crush it into dust.

I wish I’d replied to your last message, he wrote, then promptly deleted it.

Draco fell asleep with the mobile on his bedside table and the absurd wish that somehow Astoria would contact him beyond the grave and make this all okay.

*

Draco hadn’t slept so terribly since the war. He kept waking, certain he heard phantom cries, only to find Cassi was still asleep. Just before six, he discovered her sitting on the floor of her bedroom with a doll, mumbling something inaudible. He halted in the doorway, eager to better hear her voice, but she noticed the creak of the floorboard and promptly shut her mouth.

“Good morning,” he said when she peered up at him.

The end of her mouth quivered, as if she tested a smile.

“I suppose we should get you ready for the day.”

She opened the rucksack sitting between her legs and pulled out something pink.

“You wanted to wear that one?”

She nodded.

Draco crouched and helped her out of her still slightly oversized pyjamas, her palm to his shoulder to keep her balance. All he could think as she lifted her arms and he pulled her cotton dress down over her head was that her hair looked a little like a bird’s nest.

“I should probably find you a hairbrush.” He wasn’t sure if he should use hair charms on a child. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if he could use any magic on a child. What had his own parents done? He couldn’t recall. If there was anything he needed to learn today, it was that.

Soon, they were in the kitchen, the largest space in the entire home. He had been told upon purchase of the house that this space was state of the art, but seeing as he rarely used it, he had no sense of whether that was the case at all. Occasionally he sat at the oversized worktop, where he sometimes perched on a stool to read a manuscript and drink coffee. Mostly, he used the room as a passage to the wine fridge at the far wall.

Today, they sat at the long wooden table beside the length of glass giving way to the view of a slightly overgrown garden. Draco watched Cassi pick at a marmite sandwich. The letter he’d received had little to go off, but she apparently liked marmite sandwiches, enjoyed ballet lessons, and was obsessed with unicorns. He wasn’t sure what children were supposed to eat for breakfast, and all he consumed in the morning was coffee (which he was certain wasn’t for small children), but she didn’t look put out by the offer of a sandwich.

“Pansy has agreed to take care of you for a couple of hours today while I go… Go to learn more about how to take care of you.”

She looked at him blankly.

“You liked Pansy, didn’t you?”

She nodded once.

“Good.”

Eventually, after eating one and a half sandwiches, she held out the remaining half as an offer and Draco considered breakfast a success. Marmite wasn’t his favourite, but he took a small bite in the spirit of bonding.

Finally, Cassi shaped her lips into a smile.

After leaving her with Pansy, Draco arrived at St Mungo’s. He walked through the halls attired in black and with a rigid set to his shoulders. Pansy had journeyed past a poster in Diagon Alley for a class called ‘All About Dads and Daughters,’ and she pressed upon him that it sounded fitting. Of course it did, but he was also now well out of his comfort zone, and he was continuously thinking of returning home. Even so, he continued a steady path because this suggestion was all he had short of buying out the whole parenting section of Flourish and Blotts.

At the third floor, he followed the colourful posters on the wall with their wiggling arrows until he met the end of the hallway. He peered through the open door, glimpsing three rows of tables filled with wizards. All chatting as a witch at front prepared the chalkboard.

Was that…?

No, it couldn’t be. Hermione Granger didn’t have curls. He remembered her hair as nothing but bushy.

Then again, what if it was her?

Draco paced away from the door. There was an odd discomfort at the thought of attending a class taught by a person he had once been hurtful towards. He couldn’t. He was different now, but she didn’t know that, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

He stepped further away. He’d go to Flourish and Blotts instead.

But were books really the answer to his predicament? Draco moved back closer to the door, irritation bubbling beneath his skin. Indecisiveness forced his anger to flare, and he pulled his mobile from his coat pocket, unsure where else to put his sharp discomfort.

Then he felt terrible. Astoria had been ill for months, something he only knew after reading about her ‘private celebration of life’ in the Prophet. It likely wasn’t the first thing on her mind—a list for him to feel capable.

He sighed, turning on his heel. He couldn’t do this today. Maybe next time.

“Can I help you?”

He froze in place, considering whether to acknowledge the question or keep walking.

Then he thought of his daughter and recalled his promise.

Draco turned. “I…” He wasn’t sure what to say or how to start. Aside from including Hermione in a slew of brief post-war apology letters, they hadn’t had any contact since.

“Draco?” She stepped closer and her face lit up with a smile.

A beautiful smile that crinkled her honey-coloured eyes at the edges, so distinctly different to the way she’d looked at him at Hogwarts. Why was she smiling at him? He didn’t deserve it.

“Were you wanting to take this class?”

He glanced through the doorway, at all the wizards seated and waiting to begin. Maybe there was someone in there in the same strange position as him; and maybe he didn’t want to disappoint Hermione now that she’d greeted him in that amiable way.

Draco nodded faintly.

“I didn’t realise you had a daughter.” Somehow her smile appeared even brighter for that fact.

“I… yes.” She didn’t need the backstory. “Four years old.”

“Just like my Rose.”

“I also didn’t realise you had a child.”

She nodded, a small smile still curving her lips. “With Ron.”

“Right.”

She nudged her head towards the classroom. “Come in and join us.”

Hermione turned and he followed obediently without a single thought. It was as though he had forgotten how to think as he watched her lime green Healer robes and how they were tailored in at her waist then flared with her hips. And as he noticed the jostle of her dark curls. And the sweet scent she left in her wake. Somehow, he was wiped of any worry as he seated in the final spare chair.

At the front, Hermione waited for the chatter to quiet while Draco waited patiently to hear what was to come next. He hadn’t been in a classroom since Hogwarts and wasn’t sure what to expect. All he knew was that she looked like she belonged in front of a dozen eager faces.

“This has been widely requested,” she said. “This week, we’re learning how to perform hair charms.”

She moved her wand in an intricate motion, and a toad appeared in front of every attendee. Each one sprouted hair and soft laughter relayed around the room, then the hair grew so long that it curved slack off the back of the animal and the laughter grew louder. It was a peculiar sight.

“Wands ready,” she said, and they all followed the order.

After watching a demonstration of the spells and wand movements, they were instructed to test on the hairy toads, and Hermione visited each dad in turn. Draco felt awfully proud that the hair plaiting charm worked perfectly the first time—certainly not something he thought he’d ever say. As he attempted the hair-brushing spell, Hermione appeared before him.

She clasped her wand at front with a sheepish look. “I’ve just realised I didn’t ask your daughter’s name.”

“Cassi. Short for Cassiopeia.”

“Another star name?” she asked, seemingly amused.

He hadn’t even realised. Was there any denying she was his now? “As is Black tradition.”

“It’s beautiful. Tell me about Cassi. What else does she enjoy?”

He quickly recalled the letter and the barest of information she had arrived with. “Baking.”

“Lovely. Rose enjoys when we bake together too.”

“And marmite sandwiches, unicorns, and ballet,” he added, as if it may seem more plausible that he’d known his child for longer than a few hours.

“Oh, a little ballerina, just like my Rose, too. They might even attend the same school—behind Madam Malkin's? Either way, the bun charm will come in very handy. I must teach it to you.” She quickly returned to the front of the classroom to steal everyone’s attention.

It wasn’t all too bad in the end, to be surrounded by other wizards, to learn something and test new wandwork. In fact, it might have even been enjoyable. He completed the class with a new battery of charms for detangling and styling Cassi’s hair.

“Any issues, concerns or questions, you know where to find me,” Hermione told the class as they all vacated their seats and went on their way.

Suddenly, Draco was the last dad left. He took his time to stand and press his chair beneath the desk. Then he straightened the one beside, because why not. Finally, he glimpsed Hermione just as she shouldered her handbag and their gazes connected. She flashed a smile that seemed to have the ability to unnaturally stretch and shift his heartbeats.

“Will I see you next week?” she asked.

Draco breathed deeply, contesting with the constant urgency he experienced when he thought about his daughter. Hair charms were useful, but he knew perfectly well he’d only scratched the surface. He certainly needed an education, but he also needed much, much more. “I feel the need to tell you that I only learnt I had a daughter last night.”

Her expression of ease fell. “Oh.”

“And her mother has passed away, so I’m feeling out of my depth and not sure if a weekly class is going to cut it. She’s not speaking at the minute—I think she can, but I’m not certain—and I’m not sure what in particular she needs, you know, health-wise, food, entertainment, and I’m worried that—”

“Draco, take a breath.”

Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut and siphoned a long inhale through his nose. It barely did anything to loosen the knot in his chest, but at least she didn’t have that look of concern any longer. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I can help you.” She nodded decisively. “Both of you.”

“You can?”

“I’d be happy to come by and walk you through what our days look like.”

“You’d really do that for me—us?”

“Of course.” She laughed a little. “You’ve been put in a difficult position, but fortunately for you, it’s a position I can easily assist. Shall we say six o’clock?”

*

When Draco returned to Pansy’s, he stepped out of the floo to the strangest sight. She was sitting on the sofa ahead, a small silver crown pressed into her dark hair, rose pink lipstick, electric blue eyeshadow, and a teal sequin dress fancy enough for a ball. She flipped the next page of the glossy magazine on her crossed knee.

“How was it then?” she asked, distractedly. “Did you learn anything valuable?”

Cassi walked into the sitting room, or rather, shuffled. She too was in a glittery dress, but it was pink and so oversized that she held it up as she trudged forward in Pansy’s high heels. If he ignored that both looked a little eccentric, it appeared they’d had plenty of fun.

“Are you two ready for some sort of ball I haven’t been invited to?”

Cassi grinned.

‘Any words?’ he mouthed in Pansy’s direction.

She shook her head. “No, but we ate shepherds pie for lunch, we read some of my old Witch Weekly magazines, and then Cassi had the time of her life in my wardrobe. She picked my eyeshadow and lipstick colour. You can keep those, darling, your father can return them another time,” she added to Cassi.

He sent her a look. Was this part of having a child? Collecting new miscellanea they didn't need?

“Do you think you'll go back?” she asked.

He thought of Cassi and immediately had his answer.

Then he thought of Hermione Granger and her smile and was entirely certain.

“If you're available again this time next week?”

She flipped her magazine shut with a smirk. “I look forward to it.”

As Draco quickly discovered when they returned home, his daughter didn’t want to give up Pansy’s dress at all, no matter how nicely he asked. He felt a strange anxiety that Hermione would think he was a terrible father because he couldn’t seem to appropriately dress his child.

Eventually, she stepped out of the preposterously high heels. But only so she could sit on the floor and colour her drawings. He told himself there were certainly ways it could be worse.

Draco sat in the armchair, a book on his lap yet not taking in a word on the page as he waited for his guest from the floo. Of course, Hermione arrived right on time. She was still wearing her lime green robes and looking a little more worn than she had earlier in the day. Still just as beautiful. He stood abruptly, as if that stupid stray thought might have been obvious in his expression, accidentally letting the book clatter to the floor.

“Oh,” she said with a laugh, then hovered the novel onto the nearby occasional table. “Am I too early?”

He shook his head and slipped a hand into his pocket in an attempt to convey his ease. “You’re right on time.”

She lifted her shoulders with a small excited shrug. “I didn’t know you wear glasses.”

“Ah—” He slipped his glasses off and hovered them over to sit on his book. “Just for reading. Cassi, will you say hello?” he added.

She stood up, swimming in the glittery ballgown. It straightened a whit as she shuffled forward.

Draco’s gaze slid to Hermione, who grinned. “It is so lovely to meet you, Cassi.”

The tiny child closed in, holding her dress to move her bare feet.

Hermione and Draco shared a sedate smile.

“I like your pretty dress.” Hermione reached into her handbag and pulled out something small and colourful. “And this is for you. Your father told me you like unicorns.”

Cassi stood on her tiptoes and took the gift in hand with a little gasp. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Hermione and Draco linked their astonished gazes.

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

Draco suddenly couldn’t stop smiling, wholly relieved that his child could speak, and then strangely impressed that Hermione was the one that helped bring Cassi out of her shell.

For the next hour, they drank tea while Cassi played with her new toy, and Hermione detailed her usual routine for Rose as Draco took notes. She suggested a tutor who specialised in magical education for children to prepare for Hogwarts, listed several places to find her robes as well as muggle clothing, and how to save a headache by chopping up green vegetables to hide in lasagna. He knew he could find plenty of generic information about rearing children in books, but he liked hearing anecdotes about how many brands of washing powder she tried for Rose’s sensitive skin, and how Rose refused to hold a crayon properly until they realised she was left-handed. He also found that he enjoyed the way Hermione absentmindedly tweaked the end of her curl.

Somehow, Hermione finally convinced Cassi she couldn’t sleep in the glittering dress, then she easily steered bath time before dressing her in a nightgown borrowed from Rose. Draco watched her utter ease with a child she’d only just met. He might have been jealous, if not for the overwhelming awe. Not only did she know the right things to say, but she conveyed such warmth that Cassi seemed nothing but comforted by her presence.

Perhaps so was Draco.

“Thank you,” he whispered, after Cassi had fallen asleep.

They left the bedroom with silenced footsteps, until they were in the kitchen. Draco moved to one side of the large worktop, Hermione the other.

“Is this what you do every day?” he asked. “Help clueless fathers?”

She laughed, and he suddenly felt like the funniest man in the world. “No, I work in the maternity ward. It’s just that I noticed how some fathers seemed a little dumbstruck at the beginning. At first, I offered newborn classes, and then it just continued on from there.”

“Well, you’re a brilliant teacher.”

He watched colour stain her cheeks. Then she dipped her smile and fingered a swirl in the marble. “You have such a beautiful home.”

“Much more comfortable than the manor, at least.”

She nodded, drawing up her gaze. “I was thinking earlier, I haven’t heard much about you over the years. I mean, I had assumed you had married a pureblood and were living happily ever after.”

Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard too much about her over the years, either. Simply because he didn’t concern himself with other people. “It wasn’t the life I had been promised. Astoria is—was—a very nice witch, but we weren’t what each other needed. When my parents took issue with that, this is where I escaped to.”

“To muggle London.”

He nodded curtly.

“And it was just you in this big home until last night?”

He smiled wistfully. “Just me.”

“It might not feel like it now, but it’ll be worth sharing your life with a little human.”

He sighed.

“Everything just comes with practice, and Cassi will help you along.”

He wasn’t sure about that. Hermione seemed like she had the right qualities for this. The same qualities that had no doubt drawn her to healing. Draco, on the other hand, had a penchant for not considering anyone or anything past himself and the next book he was reading. As continued to happen since Cassi showed up, he was still attempting to convince himself that he’d never be enough for her. But this time, his chest smarted at the thought. He despised feeling like this. Previously everything was in control. Now, it felt well out of it.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked, then he quickly realised that his sudden desperation for something to quell his nerves might have sounded like a very different offer, particularly given the way her eyebrows briefly raised.

“I can’t tonight.” She hooked a curl behind her ear. “But maybe if you feel up to it, I could come back with Rose and show you how we bake together?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

He walked her to the floo. “I’ve had a lot longer to learn this than you have, Draco. Just remember that at the moment you’re only strangers. You’ll begin to understand each other better, and then it’ll feel natural. You’ll know what she enjoys eating, or if she’s becoming cranky, or if she needs a little nudge in the right direction.”

As they met the hearth, they turned into each other.

She placed a reassuring hand on his, and suddenly, he was conscious of how silky and warm she felt. How she was so close that he caught the sweet note of her perfume and noticed it was rose and vanilla.

“I promise, it’ll come to you.” She squeezed his hand before pulling away. “You’re more than capable, Draco, and Cassi is clever and she’s been taught well. Just involve her in your life.”

That was the problem, wasn’t it? She’d been distinctly separate from Draco’s life the entirety of hers. And his was distinctly separate from everyone else’s. He was in a stupor as he watched the flames she had just disappeared into. Had he just asked Hermione Granger to stay and drink wine? It sounded like he was hitting on her. Hitting on a married woman. Feeling an idiot for more than one reason, Draco took his mobile in hand.

He sighed heavily, staring at the screen and the abundance of sent messages without a single reply. He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be speaking to something that didn’t talk back—that was bordering on mad. Still, it was a comfort, even without a reply.

As he pocketed his mobile, he considered the strangest part of the evening wasn't trying to speak to the dead, but rather that he was excited about the prospect of Hermione returning. So much so that the reason he couldn’t sleep that night wasn’t the fresh news of his daughter.

The Healer

Draco sighed. He wasn’t even out of bed yet, and he was tapping messages to nobody in his mobile.

He was probably telling Astoria things she already knew about Cassi, but he reasoned the messages also served as his own record. Every day, he learnt more about her, and he wanted to make sure it stuck. Every day, she surprised him in ways he wasn't even sure how to put into words.

Now that Cassi was talking, the questions wouldn't seem to stop. Hermione had said that would occur, but he'd underestimated the extent of it. One day, she asked when she’d see Hermione again, and since then, had been excitedly counting down each day. On Saturday, Draco woke to her standing at his bedside, her soft toy clutched against her nightgown.

She raised her barely-there eyebrows. “Is it Saturday?”

“It is Saturday, but you've got…” He snatched his wand and cast a tempus. “Four more hours of waiting.”

“I can wait more.”

She took off skipping before he had an opportunity to respond. He grinned at her enthusiasm. Perhaps it was contagious; perhaps he was a little excited too. He shouldn’t have been—Hermione was married to Weasley, and she was visiting for the sole purpose of orienting him to fatherhood.

Except he was looking forward to seeing how she turned a smile on him again.

He couldn't help but think of her as a saviour. She was giving him everything he needed where Cassi was concerned. Advice and insight, hand-me-downs, her time. He also enjoyed her company, and that was the greatest compliment he could give, seeing as he thoroughly enjoyed his own company the most.

At five minutes to ten, both Draco and Cassi sat on the settee staring at the fireplace. She had been adamant she wanted to wear her pink pinafore dress, declaring it her favourite, while Draco first attired in his black cashmere robes. Then a shirt and slacks. Then he exchanged his bottoms for worn muggle jeans, hoping it looked like he hadn’t spent twenty minutes attempting to convey a sense of ease.

Rose emerged with the same smile as her mother, and the very same confidence that he expected of a Granger. Except that she had the bright ginger hair of a Weasley. She moved straight for Cassi with a cheerful hello, and Draco moved towards Hermione and the full basket she carried in her arms.

“Here, let me—” He took it from her grip then hovered it in front as they walked in the direction of the kitchen. “What’s all this?”

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d have any ingredients or baking tins, so I brought everything.”

“A wise decision. I have none of those things.”

She laughed as the children ran ahead. “I thought we’d make a chocolate cake.”

Cassi emitted an excited little squeal that Draco had never heard before.

He couldn’t help his own laughter. “I think we like the sound of that.”

Soon, the girls stood on a step stool each to better see into the mixing bowl. Cassi’s excitement was palpable, her grin unyielding as Hermione demonstrated how to fill a measuring cup. They all took turns mixing ingredients. They all snuck a chocolate chip or two into their mouths. Once the milk and flour met, the girls became distracted by the mention of a unicorn toy and ran off elsewhere.

“This is usually how it goes,” said Hermione. “Particularly when there’s more than one of them, they’re easily distractible.”

Draco crossed his arms and leant a hip against the worktop, watching as she cracked an egg into the mixing bowl the muggle way.

“By the way, I might need to leave a little earlier than planned. I agreed to take Rose to Ron’s tonight instead of tomorrow so they can travel early to a Quidditch game.”

He drew himself up from his lean. “Wait, you’re not with Weasley?”

She shook her head then flashed him a small smile. “We divorced a year ago.”

He rifled through his memory, attempting to discover whether he already had this information. He certainly didn’t. “You’ve done well to keep it out of the public eye.”

“I could say the same for you and your circumstances.” Her smile was now sly.

Draco eased back into what he thought was a carefree way of resting against the worktop, deciding what to do with this information. He’d asked Hermione here with his daughter in mind, but now that he knew she was single, maybe it was also for him. That was a strange thought given their history. Strange, but not uncomfortable. She was beautiful, and he was sure she’d sent a look of admiration towards him once or twice.

There it was again. A glance his way and a suggestive curve of her lips. “Does that change how you think of me?”

It was forward and he very much enjoyed it. He had decided some years earlier, after several painful dates, that he had no time for silly games. “I probably shouldn’t admit how I think about you.”

He caught the sprawl of her grin from the side before she ran her teeth over her lip to clamp it.

“Would you like some help?” he asked.

She turned around to slip the baking tin into the oven. “You can just observe me this time.” Her tone was playful.

He couldn’t keep himself from smirking. Briefly, he observed the tight hug of her fitted knit dress and the curve of her behind. Then he admired how she made this all look so simple. “Isn’t it easier to use a charm?”

“The muggle way is good for the children, seeing as they can’t use magic.” She dropped a dash of milk into the bowl of icing sugar. “Besides, cooking charms require a very light touch.”

“You don’t think I have a light touch?”

She laughed silently, but her shoulders shook. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just—here, let me show you. The muggle way needs a light touch too.”

Draco moved closer and grasped the mixing spoon she’d just let free. Then she curled her warm hand around his. “At first, it’s best to fold it in, rather than mix all over the place like my daughter so very often enjoys to do.”

She spun the spoon in a slow, deliberate twirl.

He hadn’t a clue what the slow dance of their hands was doing for the icing sugar. His gaze was on Hermione, admiring how her lashes dusted her cheeks. Realising how he enjoyed the faint constellation of freckles across her nose. She was gorgeous... What if he just told her as much?

“How does it taste?” She dipped a fingertip into the mixture and then lifted it to her mouth.

What if he tasted it on her tongue? “You have a little…” he began, then brought his hand up to brush his thumb across her lip, gently swiping the drop of chocolate icing away. Perhaps lingering a moment longer than needed.

With their heated gazes melded, he placed his thumb against his mouth, sampling the chocolate.

There came the slightest flick of her tongue over her bottom lip, checking for any remnant of icing. Then a devious small smile. It was the perfect moment to kiss her. He hadn’t been in a situation like this for a long while, but there was no forgetting the crackle of magic in the air when there was something of substance. When there was a perfect moment, ripe for the taking.

The whirl of excited squeals and laughter quickly hurried their way, followed by, “Mum? Muuum.” Draco created some distance between him and Hermione, just as Cassi and Rose ran up to the front of the worktop, their eyes barely over the edge.

“Mum, are they ready?” asked Rose.

“Not quite.” Hermione took the mixing spoon in hand. “It's taking a little longer due to losing our two helpers.”

They didn’t seem to even register that remark, Rose instead powering forward with another question. “Do you…” she began, “um, do you know Cassi’s Daddy?”

Hermione appeared unable to stifle her grin. She glanced at Draco. “Well, I've known Cassi’s Daddy—”

He was suddenly blushing furiously.

“ —since he was a small boy.”

“Like me?”

“Almost, but not quite.”

“Do you… you know my Mum?” Rose asked Draco.

“I suppose I do, in some ways. She used to have extremely large and bushy hair, and spent most of her time with her nose in books.”

“I like books,” said Rose.

“You do, my love,” replied Hermione. “Just like me.”

The giggling children ran from the kitchen as though they had somewhere far more important to be, and Draco’s breaths loosened a tad now that there was no longer an interrogation into their past. He was suddenly dreading Cassi’s questions about her mother. He knew Astoria at the surface, of course, but what if Cassi ever wanted more?

“Do you think she’s mine?” he asked Hermione quietly.

She laughed in the same way Pansy had done. “She is most definitely yours.”

“What is so funny?”

“I just cannot believe you would ever doubt it. Look at her—she’s a mini you. Platinum blonde hair, a pointed little chin, and her mouth even pulls into a sneer if she’s not happy with what she’s hearing.”

He smirked. “She does look like me, doesn’t she?”

“She’s wonderful, Draco. If you’re able to cast your worries aside, you’ll realise just how lucky you are.”

After everyone demolished a piece of chocolate cake, Cassi and Rose swapped their unicorn toys—identical except for their different coloured manes. Draco liked to think it was a sign that they’d need to do this again; if only to exchange toys back to their rightful place. After the promise of attending Hermione’s next class, she was gone through the fire and he was left staring into the distance as Cassi ran literal circles around him, and he dissected every moment of the day.

He wasn’t imagining it, was he? He and Hermione Granger had been flirting.

That night, he added more to what was hurriedly becoming a journal, more than any attempt to contact his departed ex-wife.

In the early hours of the morning, Draco startled awake at hearing a faint buzz. He sat up bleary eyed and squinted in the direction of the glowing screen of his mobile. Three new messages.

From Astoria.

His heart felt like it leapt from his chest.

Draco held a palm to his heart. For a second there, he thought it might really be her. He thought his life was about to turn on its head all over again. He blamed the early hour and the groggy state for the reason his eyes heated, then quickly scrubbed his hands down over his face to put a stop to the swift swell of emotion.

Someone else now owned Astoria’s defunct mobile number. He’d never assumed that a possibility. He never thought his blame and stray thoughts and lists would be read by anyone at all. And while he appreciated the gesture and the simple kindness from a complete stranger, he couldn’t continue like this.

The Old Friends

Come Wednesday, Draco returned to St Mungo’s with less rigidity, and entirely no hesitation as he met the classroom. He might have even been looking forward to it. He found that although Hermione was perfectly cordial when he arrived, just like she was with everyone, she didn’t meet his gaze for all too long. And she didn’t visit him to check on his progress like last time. He was beginning to feel like he was back in Hogwarts, eager for any jot of attention from a girl and the way it made his pulse flit wildly.

Despite feeling starved of attention, he again learnt plenty of helpful information and spells, including charms that caused paint and building blocks to glimmer and sparkle. Again, he lingered around at the end, waiting to speak to her while attempting to appear as though that wasn’t what he was doing at all. She shouldered her bag and approached him with more pink to her cheeks than usual, her smile sweet but shy.

“I had fun with you on the weekend,” she said. “And Rose couldn’t stop talking about Cassi all afternoon.”

“I had fun, too. Cassi was so excited she wouldn’t sleep for hours.”

She grinned. “That can happen. And I’m afraid Rose was chewing Ron’s ear off about her new friend, so he now knows that you have a daughter. I hope that’s okay.”

He shrugged. “Everyone will know sooner than later, won’t they?” He palmed at the back of his neck, testing his next words in his mind. He had wanted to ask her on a date, but it still seemed too forward, even if she had enjoyed herself on the weekend. Maybe she just really enjoyed baking? He opted for a more indirect route. “I was wondering if you would be able to stop by again some time, just so you can make sure it looks like I’m on the right track.”

She laughed and it was a sweet sound. “I’m sure you’re doing a brilliant job, but I’d be happy to. Shall we say tonight? Six o’clock again?”

Draco left St Mungo’s feeling like he’d watched England win the Quidditch World Cup. Like he was doing something right and there was little that could revert his mood. Until he stepped out of the floo into Pansy’s sitting room and discovered Blaise and Theo on the sofa ahead, and his joy was blunted by hot shame.

The last time he’d seen the both of them, he’d lost his temper. He’d told them to leave him alone, and they had listened. That was over a year ago now.

“Draco!” Theo beamed, crossing one leg over the other, rearranging his dark robes. “We’ve missed you.”

Blaise nodded. “And a daughter in tow now?”

“She’s a wonderful little thing, by the way,” added Theo. “She painted all of our nails today.” He splayed his fingers and showed the pink at the tips.

“Red for me.” Blaise grinned. “Matches my robes perfectly.”

“Was this not the greatest shock?” asked Theo. “But are you not absolutely in love?”

Draco stepped deeper into the room, feeling how the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as strained as it could have been given the distance he’d created between them. He opened his mouth to reply, but Cassi came storming in, Pansy closely following at her feet.

“Look!” Cassi approached him with a soft toy held in the air. Another unicorn. Except this time, it was discoloured and threadbare. Evidently pre-loved.

“As soon as Theo heard she adored unicorns, he went home to get his old beloved Rufus,” said Pansy.

“Aren’t you lucky?” Draco asked Cassi, then he sent Theo a look of gratitude.

“And I have—I got—Pansy did sparkles,” she said, pulling the front of her cardigan out to show the pink wool glittering.

Soon, he discovered it was a charm Pansy had used to deter Cassi from crawling into another of her sequin ballgowns—the same he had learnt today. Then his daughter talked his ear off about the custard cream biscuits Blaise had brought along, before requesting yet another one.

Pansy tucked herself into the corner of the sofa and Cassi quickly followed at her heels, climbing up to sandwich herself between her and Theo. Draco had intended to be in and out of this place in a couple of minutes, except now he couldn’t help but smile at the way his daughter was attempting to make herself at home. He wandered further into the sitting room, staring down at his three oldest friends smiling up at him, his newest friend in between.

Pansy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “I heard that you had a playdate with Hermione Granger.”

“How could you possibly have heard that?” Draco glanced at his daughter suspiciously.

“I’ve been dating Neville, and you would have known months ago if you hadn’t thrown us all out of your lives.”

“Longbottom, really?”

She cocked her head. “Granger, really?”

Draco couldn’t help his slanted smile. “She's been incredibly helpful. And have you seen her lately? She’s beautiful, and you know I don’t say that lightly.”

Theo’s brows flew to his hairline. “Oh, we know.”

Blaise gave a sweeping nod. “I’ve crossed paths with her during my potion work at St Mungo’s. She is gorgeous, and I quickly discovered very easy to open up to. Maybe something to do with the fact she’s a Healer?” he mused aloud.

“Look at you then,” began Theo, “not only out of your self-imposed isolation, but picking up beautiful witches.”

“Alright. I haven’t picked up anyone.” Draco extended his hand for his daughter. “And we should be returning home.”

“You haven’t responded to our wedding invite,” Blaise said hurriedly.

“It’s a summer wedding,” added Theo. “We can make it a plus one if you prefer.”

He narrowed his gaze in their direction.

“What?” Theo attempted to ask naively through an outlandish grin. “I meant you could bring your daughter, that’s all.”

In the instant Draco wandlessly sent a wad of floo powder into the small fire, Pansy took to her feet.

“We’ll see you soon, won’t we?” she asked hopefully.

“We will. Same time next week?”

She nodded enthusiastically, bouncing her short bob. Theo and Blaise followed suit.

“Thank you.”

Cassi waved just before stepping into the floo.

“All of you,” Draco added past his shoulder.

When they arrived home, his daughter declared, “I like those people.”

He couldn’t help but grin. Of course she liked them, they’d just spent a few hours pampering her with toys and treats and any other number of fun things. However, he warmed at hearing that she had so easily taken to his oldest and dearest friends. He didn’t realise until this moment how badly he’d wanted for that.

“I like them, too,” said Draco.

Although he told himself he wouldn’t message Astoria again, seeing his friends only reminded him of his wedding. Then his divorce. Then his isolation and the way he’d become so angry when they all tried to drive him out of his comfortable reclusiveness by springing an intervention. Now, his actions appeared irrational. Now, he better understood their concern and maybe appreciated them even more—and he only put that down to knowing Cassi.

Some hours later, Draco changed into black slacks and a shirt. He buttoned it all the way up, then felt like he looked too stiff. He unfastened the top two buttons and reassessed. Cassi’s reflection appeared in the mirror. She leant against the doorframe with her new soft toy in hand.

He turned. “How do I look?”

She nibbled on the end of her pinky finger before answering. “Um, special.”

“Special?” he repeated through laughter. “Is that a good thing?”

She nodded enthusiastically, her own grin spreading.

“Special enough for Hermione?”

Her confident nod sealed the deal.

He checked his watch. “Are you sleepy? It’s nearly bedtime.”

She hummed and turned, wandering away.

“Why do I have a feeling Blaise gave you something far more sugary than just biscuits?” he muttered as he caught up with her in the hallway. He followed as she curved into her bedroom. “It’s just that Hermione will be here shortly and I want to show her how good we’ve been doing.”

Cassi was rifling through the small bookshelves he’d added to her room, filled with a copy of nearly every children’s book he could find in Flourish and Blotts.

“Because we’re doing well, aren’t we?” he asked.

She turned with a book grasped in her hand, nodding up at him.

“Good.” He dropped his gaze to the pink and purple book. “Let me guess: the unicorn one?”

“Because—they’re... it’s my favourite.” She took off full pelt to jump onto her bed.

“You know, one day I’ll take you to visit a real unicorn.”

“Really?” she asked through a wild giggle.

“Truly.” He planted himself on the side of the bed. “They’re rare, but I’ll find one for you.”

There were instances throughout their days where Draco thought he was doing something right. As Cassi leant into him, nestling her head against his chest and resting her small hand on his large, he thought this was one of them. He warmed, feeling competent. He was suddenly certain that every effort he’d spent to learn about what was best for a child like Cassi was coming to fruition.

They’d finished their book and she’d already fallen asleep on him when there came a tiny knock.

Hermione was in the doorway. Unlike her last Wednesday visit, she wasn’t in her lime green healer robes, but rather, jeans and a purple jumper. Her curls were piled on top of her head, except for a couple framing her face, and he had the overwhelming urge to finally tell her she was beautiful. He clamped it down. Just.

“Hello,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, I just let myself in.”

“It’s fine.” He shifted Cassi onto her pillow, tucked her in and set the nightlight before he joined Hermione.

As they moved down the hallway, he said, “She’s been really good at waking up at the same time each day and seems happy to entertain herself with toys or books until we get her ready. I’ve learnt she likes a puzzle to play with over lunch, and then of course she goes to Mrs Moneypenny’s School every other day, and we’ve been—”

“Draco,” she laughed as they reached the kitchen. “Slow down.”

“Right. Sorry.” He palmed back through his hair, then internally scolded himself. Hopefully he hadn’t put it out of place. “I didn’t even ask: how are you?”

“Good, thank you.”

Now that they were in better light, he noticed she looked a little different and put it down to the blush and lipstick charm. A faint pink. She glanced around warily, seemingly more unsure than he’d seen her, nearly as shy as earlier in the day.

“I think I'll take that glass of wine now,” she said.

He couldn’t help his smile. “Red or white?”

“Surprise me.”

There must have been something there on her part, too, right? If she was telling Pansy and Longbottom about their meetings. Maybe he was too hopeful.

She moved around the other side of the worktop to meet him as he made a wine bottle tilt over a glass with his wand. “I think you’re doing a brilliant job, Draco.”

“You do?”

She was so close he could see the sweet sincerity in her eyes. She nodded gently.

His gaze trailed to her lips, but he hurriedly pulled it away and snatched up a wineglass to settle in her hand. She sampled it and then hummed lightly, and his thoughts weren’t long from getting carried away.

“What do you do with all of your time?” she asked.

“Before I had a child turn up at my home? Potion brewing is maybe my favourite hobby, then also occasionally flying, reading, of course. And I edit books.”

“You… edit books?” Her eyes widened. “How did you begin editing?”

“Well, it's a strange story. I purchased Flourish and Blotts—”

“You bought a bookshop?” She laughed. “I may just be falling in love with you.”

Draco’s face heated. No doubt he was a little pink. At least he wasn’t mad thinking there was something tangible between the two of them. It finally felt like the right time. He hadn’t done this in years, but the best way was to be confident and direct, right?

“Hermione.”

She raised her brows a tad.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

The End of the Path

Between Hermione’s late shifts and finding care for their children, it was two weeks before they found a way to line up their schedules to plan a date. Then another week of delay because Rose caught a mild case of dragonpox, requiring that they both isolate. Eventually, it was shaping up to be an eventful week with the last class of Hermione’s course and, if all went well, a date on Saturday night.

This time, the fathers all brought their daughters along. Although Cassi had readily taken to Rose, she shied in the instant they entered the classroom and saw the many wizards and their children. She turned into Draco’s legs, then tried to edge back towards the way they came.

“Are you feeling shy?”

She grasped around him like a lifeline. It took two attempts, but eventually, he was able to pull her up into his arms where she nestled into his chest. They sat at the front of the classroom, and she didn’t seem to relax until Hermione rounded toward the blackboard and gave her a little wave. Cassi straightened on his lap. She still chewed on her finger, but there was just something about Hermione that evidently brought her comfort.

“Today is about reflecting,” began Hermione. “I want you to consider how far you’ve come over the past several weeks, what you’ve learnt, and how you’ve put it to use. But first, I want to hear from your daughters because it’s not me assessing you all, it’s them.”

The dads all shared in gentle laughter.

“Draco, shall we begin with you?”

He nodded, gently prying his daughter’s finger from her mouth.

“Cassi,” began Hermione, “will you tell us your favourite thing about your Daddy?”

Draco’s heartbeat raced. Pure fear. What if she didn’t have an answer? What if she couldn’t put into words the simple things he’d done for her as of late? He’d be left looking more useless than not, and he wanted nothing more than to appear competent in front of Hermione.

Cassi’s tiny voice finally emerged. “He reads me the… he reads unicorns.”

There was an immediate curve to Hermione’s lips. It felt like success to Draco, in more ways than one.

“And is special,” Cassi added more confidently.

The class rumbled with a little laughter and Hermione suddenly wore a grin. Her eyes latched on to Draco’s. “He certainly is.”

They shared in a moment, then, for the whole class to see. It was blatant, but he didn’t care.

“Thank you, Cassi,” said Hermione, voice dampened.

Draco felt a tug of emotion. It heated his eyes. He had done something right. His daughter thought he was competent and worthy of an exceptional word, even if he wasn’t certain she understood exactly what it meant. And best of all, Hermione only seemed to agree that he was special.

*

Draco stepped into the kitchen, where Pansy and Cassi were eating their dinner at the end of the long table. “How do I look?” he asked, fastening the cuff of his sleeve.

“Like a muggle,” said Pansy without sparing a beat.

He balked at her strange observation.

She nibbled at her lip. “Was that the intention?”

“We’re going to a muggle restaurant.”

“You look perfect, then.” She went back to prodding her bowtie pasta with a fork as Cassi smiled up at him.

“Please remember no sugary drinks and sweets again. She won’t get to sleep on time.” Draco eyed his watch. He smoothed a palm over Cassi’s hair, then swivelled on his heel. “I need to run.”

“Good luck,” said Pansy.

He stalled his step. “Luck? Do you think I need luck?” He was starting to feel nerves jitter in his stomach and he couldn’t recall the last time that had occurred.

Pansy grimaced. “You know, at this point, I’m worried that if I say anything else I’m going to make this worse, so it might be best if you just leave.”

Draco nodded stiffly. “I’ll see you both later.”

In the centre of London, he’d selected a restaurant that wasn’t too high end because he didn’t think that would be Hermione's preference. Particularly after she owl’d him to say she’d meet him there and that there was no need for fanfare. He assumed that meant no need for chivalry, like she’d already clocked him. Even so, he took to his feet as soon as she entered the place and pulled her chair out for her to sit.

“You look incredible,” he said as he seated. “I mean, you always do, but tonight…” Words failed him.

Her cheeks flushed. She brushed a curl behind her ear, decorated with a golden hoop. Her curves were hugged by black silk and he was beginning to ask himself how he got so lucky to be sitting here with Hermione on a date. It might have been that thought that reinvigorated the butterflies in his stomach. He was being ridiculous, he knew as much. He’d never been like this on a date and somehow didn’t know how to make it stop. Perhaps it was for that reason their conversation was stilted and their glances missed. At least, until they were both half a wine down; then Draco struggled to feel the grip of anxiety, and Hermione only seemed all the more talkative.

“You know the day you joined my class, I thought I’d never be able to concentrate properly again,” she said with nervous laughter. “You’re by far the most handsome dad I’ve had the pleasure of teaching.”

Draco’s grin was preposterous. “Is that why you offered the at-home lesson?”

“Perhaps,” she answered coyly. “And you appeared a little panicked.”

He smile turned into something sedate. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Me?” Hermione sat up straighter. “Whatever for?”

“For everything. For…” He didn’t know where to begin. “Cassi called me Dad today.” His grin was relentless as he relived the moment. “You’re the reason this is all working.”

“I think you’re the reason, Draco. She adores you.”

“Well, the feelings are mutual. She’s incredible, isn’t she?” He shook his head. “Sometimes, I think about how different it might have been if I was left with an infant.”

“Then you’d be dealing with sleepless nights and nappies and would probably need a few more lessons.” She smiled fondly. “Sometimes Rose will come out with the most outlandish stories, but I’d rather have my ear chewed off than three hours of broken sleep a night.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Strangely, his mind wandered to the imagining of holding a tiny baby. A Granger-Malfoy. And maybe that hypothetical future didn’t seem as scary as it had once been.

“You know, my story is very different to yours.” She had a wistful look about her. “I had wanted Rose for a very long time. Working in maternity meant I was constantly surrounded by mothers and I found the jealousy grew year after year. She was just absolutely everything I’d wanted and waited for.” Sadness softened her features and her unfocused gaze stayed on the candle between them.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked.

She showed him a swift smile. “It’s just that the cracks in my relationship started to appear after Rose was born. It was everything I'd dreamed of, but then caring for a baby only seemed to be an added stress in a marriage that was held together by nothing except the avoidance of an important conversation.” She inhaled then huffed it out. A smile soon followed. “Anyway, that’s all behind me now.” She meandered a fingertip back and forth along the tablecloth. “Actually, this is my first date since…”

“It is?”

She nodded.

“Then we better make sure it’s a good time.”

They mirrored sly smiles. He enjoyed that he could give her this, after all she had done for him. Over the hours, they touched on everything from their horrible interactions at school to Hermione’s obliviated parents, and the lengths she went to ensure she put their memories right. Then, of course, the topic of Draco’s parents arose. After a bottle of wine between them, he was spilling to her matters that probably shouldn’t have been aired on a first date.

“I don’t speak to them any longer,” he said. “They couldn’t accept that I wanted agency over my own life.”

She tugged down the side of her mouth. “Do you think you’ll speak to them again one day?”

He’d thought about this a lot lately. “Sometimes I think Cassi would benefit. They were mostly good parents.”

Hermione’s eyes dropped to his shirtsleeve where the scar of his dark mark was hidden.

“They’ve learnt their lessons and relaxed their prejudices, despite the fact they can’t seem to forgo their conservative expectations where I’m concerned.”

“Maybe they thought they knew what was best for your happiness?”

And maybe they were wrong in some ways, and so right in others. It was the coercive path they had set him upon that had led him to Cassi.

“Do you think,” began Hermione tentatively, “that they would one day accept me?”

There was flagrant hope in her tone. Before he answered, he thought about it so deeply that he pictured a future with Hermione: properly introducing her to his parents, sharing a home, her stomach swollen with his child. Then he internally scolded himself for getting carried away.

“I’d like to think so,” he replied, and she only seemed pleased by that answer.

After dinner, they walked through muggle London. It wasn’t until they entered Diagon Alley that Draco had the nerve to take her hand in his, and when she grinned his way, he cursed himself for not doing it sooner. He swept his thumb across her skin and noticed how she felt so right. It was never meant to feel this easy, was it? So perfect. He was loath to give up the hold of her, but when they reached the dim windows of Flourish and Blotts, he unlocked the door and allowed her to enter first.

He lit the small lamp at the front desk with his wand, only enough to see Hermione spin a circle with her eyes lining the shelves and a faint look of wonder.

“You know I’ve had dreams like this,” she said when her gaze found his.

“Pick out any book you’d like. Or three or five, whatever you want.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You’re joking.”

He laughed as she glanced around with delight lighting her face. “I know I can come here any day of the week and spend my own galleons on a book or two, but there’s just something special about the shop all to myself.” She grinned in his direction. “And with you.”

At that, his heartbeats did something silly. “Take a look around. Take your time.”

In the next instant, Hermione placed her handbag on the front desk and then wandered off towards the newly released fiction. Draco leant against the wooden surface, hands in his pockets and openly admired her roam around. Admired how she picked up a novel, made an amused hum at something she found in the pages, then mumbled to herself about difficult decisions before placing a book back. In reality, he could afford to buy everything in this place for her if he wanted to. He could gift her the whole shop. But this was much better.

After tonight, he was more confident than ever that he enjoyed her beautiful nature, and it wasn’t simply due to the interactions with his daughter. It wasn’t just her knowledge or practical assistance or even the confident sway of her hips. For the first time since he was a child, he looked forward to the prospect of his future. The near future: finally feeling the silk of her lips and experiencing her weight on top of him. The distant future: waking up beside her, and making a home for both her and Rose.

Overcome by the thought, Draco pulled his mobile from his coat pocket. Now he carried the thing because Pansy had obliged in purchasing her own and it was their primary communication for Cassi. That had been what he told himself, anyway. He still held onto Astoria—her memory, the ghost of her, the kind stranger. It had helped steady him during this bizarre time. Tonight, however, he was finally certain he didn’t need her any longer.

It was barely two heartbeats after sending the message that Draco heard a sharp ping. He glanced at his mobile to find it absent of any new alerts.

Hermione moved towards him, three books stacked in her arms. She deposited them on the front desk then searched through her bag. “Sorry, I should check this. It might be about Rose…”

“You have a mobile?”

“It’s pretty new. The easiest way to communicate with Ron.” She turned with it in hand, then her eyes fell to his. “You have a mobile?”

Draco had a peculiar feeling, then. So unnerving that he couldn’t bring himself to answer and paced away with an odd yawning in his chest.

Hermione read the message on her mobile, and with his heart beating like timpani in his ears, he waited for her gaze to roll up to meet his.

When she finally did so, her brow was crinkled in. Her eyes bordered on a look of fear. The same kind Draco felt when he realised that fate might just be real, and it had drawn him two distinct paths to Hermione Granger, should he have missed one.

“Draco…”

“Do you…” He stalled because it seemed impossible, and yet, he still needed to ask. “Did you just receive a message—from me?”

“You're my special caller?” she asked through an astounded laugh.

“I've been talking to you the entire time?”

She grinned, then shook her head. “It can’t be.”

As he met her in one large stride, Draco mirrored the same disbelieving shake of his head. Propelled by the certainty this was unknowingly everything he’d been waiting for, he cradled her face with his palms and smothered her lips with his.

Hermione’s mobile tumbled to the ground. She grasped at his shirt, tugging him closer as their tongues met. Without giving up their kiss, Draco yanked her deeper into the shop, behind the nearby bookcase, but it was Hermione that led him to the floor. Kneeling, she unfastened the buttons of his shirt before he even chanced moving his hand to her breast.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly.

“Very sure.” She’d already unfastened the last of his shirt buttons. “Please.”

She curled back against the carpet and from above, he made a trail along her jaw with his lips, then down the bare stretch of her throat. He nipped at her vanilla-scented pulse point as she pulled away the thin straps of her dress, his hand too preoccupied on the round of her behind.

“I assumed you missed her,” said Hermione. “That you needed closure.”

He slid his hand around in between her thighs and teased at the warm crook, the lace of her underwear. “I needed direction and confidence—I needed you.”

She shook her head gently as she continued to stare up at him. “I can’t quite believe it.”

His fingertip traced the curve of her, from clit to entrance, lingering where it was damp at the gusset. “I can’t believe this.”

She rolled her bottom lip through her teeth.

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

He had built up their first time in his mind. It was supposed to be in his bed, in between sheets, without impediments so he could explore every inch of her, not manic and rushed on the floor of a bookshop.

She answered by hooking her thumbs into the sides of her underwear and drawing them down until they met her knees. “I’m not going to tell you again,” she said bossily through a smile, and he decided then he might be in love with her.

Even if it wasn’t where he’d planned, he was still confident he could make this night memorable, and Hermione stroking him over his trousers was a perfect way to fulfil that promise.

As they kissed, his fingertips explored between her legs with a leisurely glide, circling her entrance with such a taunting cadence that he felt her grow slick then slicker again, weeping down her folds. The barest brush over her clit made her quiver beneath him. He tested one finger inside and failed at stifling a pathetic small groan in his mouth. He added another, savouring the tight, snug heat.

“You are so wet,” he breathed in disbelief, pulling his hand up to glimpse the shine of arousal on his fingers.

“You have the magic touch," she said through a playful smirk, then tugged the collar of her dress down with her bra, just enough to bare her stiff nipples. 

That small groan grew into something loud and insatiable, muffled against her breast as he took her nipple in his mouth and felt the hardened bud on his tongue.

By the time he lined himself up, she peered up at him with her pupils blown wide with arousal, lips ruby red. He slid into her entrance and Hermione gasped. Draco dipped his forehead to meet hers and their harried breaths mingled.

As he eased in, she whimpered and bowed her back. “Oh—you’re, just… gods.”

She was indecipherable and he couldn’t stop smirking. Seeing her already breaking around him was indescribable, and he’d barely begun. But then she clenched around him, and he, too, was on the verge of muttering unintelligible things. As he thrust in gently and evenly, she settled her palms at the back of his head, staring up at him with such reverence that he no longer had a care in the world that they were on the floor of Flourish and Blotts. This moment was everything.

“It was you the whole time,” she whispered, as though the realisation only just coming to her. "I think she wanted us to find each other again."

“Fate,” he said against her lips, and she nodded before she kissed him with a content moan. 

It was fate, Draco decided, that led him to hearing Hermione Granger cry out in pleasure on the floor of Flourish and Blotts, her centre intensely pulsing around him as he buried his face in her neck, his own release moments from snapping. Fate that brought him a witch worthy of a lifetime.

*

The month of June was one eventful week after another. It started with an owl from Daphne Greengrass. Two thick letters with her note pinned on the front:

Draco,

I discovered this last night. Several pages of letters I should have sent with Cassi. I’m sorry I missed it earlier. It’s just been so difficult without her, and I felt disjointed for some time. Despite the lack of instruction, I hope you’ve been able to figure it out.

Can I visit soon? I miss her dearly. I’d like to remain in her life if you’ll let me.

Draco laughed to himself as he read the wad of parchment. It started with a letter from Astoria to Cassi, a history of sorts, which he only skimmed, then beneath was a meticulously detailed routine.

Breakfast: She enjoys porridge, sometimes Weetabix, and orange juice is her favourite (in moderation).

He couldn’t believe it. The book of Cassi, two months too late, and even despite the fact he could now write his own, still a wealth of knowledge.

The second week of June, Draco and Hermione, with their daughters in tow, visited a unicorn sanctuary in Scotland. The day-long excited buzz of Cassi was something else. The way she’d looked at him when she realised her unicorn dreams were coming true could have powered his patronus, and her constricting hug, fortify it.

The following week, he dressed his daughter in her finest pair of wizarding robes, fashioned her hair into braids, and held her hand tightly as they walked a fair gravel path towards the life he had once left behind. As soon as he neared the grand doors, they opened invitingly. He stopped at the threshold, wary that these days he felt like more of a guest.

His mother emerged first, from a sitting room off the entrance hall. “Draco?” She squinted in his direction as she swept forward in a billow of green robes, and barely two paces from the door, his father joined from a nearby office.

“Draco?” he echoed.

As they both met the threshold, he drew his daughter forward and couldn’t have stifled his proud smile if he tried. “There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

*

The third week of June, he attended Blaise and Theo’s wedding with Hermione on his arm, and he felt like the luckiest wizard in the world. Not only because of how stunning she was in a fitted green dress, but because the other guests fawned over her. Even Pansy complimented Hermione. She had a natural charm that drew people in, then she wooed them with her knowledge. But he was mighty chuffed with himself given she was the only person at the wedding she allowed to snog in the coatcheck room.

“Move in with me,” he rasped against her ear, one thrust short of coming.

“Oh—yes,” she moaned, and he joined in despite the flimsy privacy charm on the door.

*

The last week of June was the girls’ big ballet recital. Although, the main event might have been in the foyer of the auditorium, where Weasley, Potter and his wife had joined to watch Rose. They all exchanged stiff handshakes and pleasant smiles, and Hermione promised him she would only later compensate him for that fact. Apparently, this was co-parenting. Given Hermione and her daughter had plans to move in with Draco and Cassi during the coming weeks, this was his foreseeable future.

A ballet performance by a dozen four year olds was clumsy and adorable, and Draco smiled the entire time. He smiled because seeing an extension of himself achieve something was like nothing else. He was so proud. So ecstatic watching his daughter do her best that he turned to Hermione and whispered, “I want another one.”

She laughed quietly, then measured whether he was joking.

“Don't you?”

Hermione bit her lip, then nodded. “With you? Absolutely.”

“We should start trying straight away.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he replied decisively.

*

These days the house was loud and lived in. Draco couldn’t remember the quiet, but he preferred it this way. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The muggle music player Hermione had brought along when she moved in blasted out a tune in Cassi and Rose’s room, where he discovered them singing and moving to music about two becoming one and saying you’ll be there. Cassi was so carefree these days that it was as though she had lived here for her lifetime. He found her bouncing on the bed with a feather boa haphazardly wrapped around her body, and as he neared, she launched herself into his arms. He gave her a squeezing hug as Rose sang into a hairbrush and her mother into a pink-tipped paintbrush.

“Redecorating going well?” he asked as he set his daughter down onto her feet. 

Hermione grinned his way. She tapped her wand in the direction of the music player and it lowered to a mumble. “Just one more wall and we’re done.”

He assisted with the last of the painting, but using his wand because he refused the slow muggle way. By the time the final coat was on, the girls had moved elsewhere like little whirlwinds. Hermione and Draco tidied together, removing the furniture coverings and sweeping around cleaning charms to file toys in cubbies and books on shelves. It was a much more fitting room for two young girls. The walls were pale pink (a painted unicorn in the corner), with glittering muggle lights on the ceiling.

“The final touch.” Hermione placed a photo frame on the table at Cassi’s bedside. A photograph that had been sent along with the belated letter from Daphne. It was grinning Astoria holding toddler Cassi. “She’ll be happy for the reminder of her mother.”

Draco nodded, threading his arm around Hermione’s waist and drawing her close. He was happy for the reminder too. No matter how indirect and unintentional, Astoria had set him on the perfect path.