"For all that terror, for all the commotion, for all the unease you feel, you cannot close your eyes. You see. You see voraciously. You cannot stop seeing."

— Cristina Rivera Garza (translated by Sarah Booker)

Hermione held her breath under the Invisibility Cloak that once belonged to her best friend. She tried to ignore how it still smelled like him — citrus, evergreen, and muggle soap. She watched behind the clear veil, crouching behind one of the crates that resided in the Death Eater warehouse marked by Malfoy.

Just as Malfoy had mapped out, the cavernous space had two exits, three windows on each side, and crates of Dark Objects. Even though the crates gave no hint regarding what the objects inside were, she could feel them. Some burned her fingertips when she got too close and others beckoned to her, calling to her own magic. They whispered to her, calling to her darkest emotions and thoughts like a summons to her blood. But she gritted her teeth and pushed back against the pull, focusing on her task.

Despite having modified the cloak to conceal sound, Hermione went rigid, trying to remain silent upon seeing Bellatrix standing in the eerie green lamp light. A damp coolness slithered down her spine at the sight of the woman who carved the slur into her arm. As if in answer to the call of its maker, she felt her scar burning. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood.

Bellatrix turned towards her direction, hair wild, face so wane and pale Hermione would have assumed she was sickly if it hadn't been for the wide smile on her face. She was accompanied by two other Death Eaters she couldn't identify. Their silver masks gleamed a poisonous green under the lamplight. They seemed to be examining an open crate that Hermione could not see from where she crouched. Nevertheless, she could feel the malicious magic that thrummed from the box.

"The Dark Lord will be pleased indeed," Bellatrix crooned. Out of nowhere, she grabbed the arm of one of the Death Eaters, pushing his sleeve up. The Death Eater remained silent, but visibly flinched when she dug her nails into his flesh, dark blood dripping in rivulets down his forearm. Then she pressed the tip of her wand sharply against his Dark Mark. The snake on his arm moved and coiled, the jaws of the skull yawning.

Suddenly, Hermione heard a crack, followed by a hissing sound and dark smoke unfurling. Immediately Bellatrix and her companions were on their knees.

"My Lord," they exhaled reverently.

"Rise."

Hermione's hand shook as she clutched her wand tighter. That voice. Harry — her Harry — stood before her. His back was turned towards her, black robes billowing but she recognized the dark unruly hair that refused to submit. He started to walk around Bellatrix and Hermione's breath caught upon seeing his face fully exposed in the light — no glasses, face chiseled and hardened, crimson eyes pulsing like hot coals. It was his lightning bolt scar however that caught her off guard. The scar was the color of obsidian, black tendrils spreading out from it. His veins, she realized. Black veins delicately sprawled around the edges of his pale face like spider webs.

"I see you've successfully retrieved the object." Har — the Dark Lord said in a hissing voice. "But only after weeks of failed attempts," he snarled.

Suddenly Bellatrix spasmed on the floor, the Elder Wand pointing at her as she was hit with a cruciatus. The other two stepped back as she arched off the ground, a morbid mix of a cry and laugh leaving her cracked bleeding lips. Hermione's breath grew ragged, feeling a confusing mix of satisfaction and fear at seeing her best friend torture the crazed woman.

When it stopped, the two Death Eaters dropped to their knees.

"My – my Lord," they trembled, "forgive us. It won't happen again."

"Be sure that it doesn't," he spat as he raised his wand in their direction.

***

Hermione felt like she could finally breathe when she felt the warmth of the wards envelop her once she stepped into the safehouse and removed her muddied boots and robes. Her hands were still shaking and although she tried to inhale steadily, the last remnants of her control shattered. She collapsed on the floor, gritting her teeth to keep the screaming in her head from coming out. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of mad eyes leering over her, a blade against her flesh, her veins on fire, of red eyes and blood blood blood everywhere — fuck, fuck, fuck.

Seeing her, seeing Harry's face. It was all too much, all at once. She clawed at the boards until her nails bleed, dry heaving. They were gone, all gone. So many sacrifices and it was all for nothing. They were losing, still fucking losing. Guilt creeped up her veins. If she had just, if she had just fucking —

"Mini?"

Hermione's head snapped up at the sight of Scorpius Malfoy waddling his way towards her, a worn stuffed dragon clutched in his arms. The moonlight shining through the paned glass illuminated his curious but terrified eyes.

"Hello, Scorpius," she said with a stiff smile, trying to control her breathing and mask her panic.

"Is Mini sad?" he asked softly, brows furrowing and taking tentative steps forward until he was only a foot from her. "Is Mini – is Mini have bad dream?"

"Yes," Hermione responded after a moment, her voice cracking. It was all a bad dream truthfully — a nightmare. But she forced herself to pull herself together, at least for a moment, for the little child before her. "I'm alright. I'll – I'll be alright."

At her more reassuring smile, he grinned, inching his way closer. He looked so much like Malfoy when they were kids. His features were softer, however, and there was a playful innocence in them that made her heart clench.

"Daddy is always pwotecting Scowpius from bad dreams. He can pwotect Mini too!"

Before she could respond, Malfoy skidded into the hallway, eyes wide with panic, his alabaster skin even more pale than the moonlight.

"Scorpius!"

"Hi, daddy!" The boy smiled cheekily at his father. Hermione took that brief moment to let a mask slip over her features as she stood up. Pretending. That was easy, that was natural to her now.

"What are you doing! What did I say about sneaking around?" The boy's father scooped his son up into his arms, his shoulders relaxing as he shut his eyes. When he opened them, they landed on Hermione with suspicion.

"Mini has bad dream! Scowpius was helping Mini! Just like daddy," Scorpius giggled.

Hermione reddened when Malfoy raised an eyebrow, eyeing her with both distrust and disdain.

"I see. Well, I'm sure she can handle herself. Let's get back to bed," he said.

"Kay! Night night, Mini." Scorpius turned his tiny head towards hers and smiled sweetly.

"Goodnight," she whispered, ignoring his father's glare.

She let out a breath when they disappeared from view and shut her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel everything in one moment and then nothing in the next. She let the numbness seep into her veins — she could not allow herself to feel, not now. Upon her heart rate settling down, she opened her eyes, staring at the darkness before her. Then she walked into it.

***

Hermione spent the whole day in the tiny library pouring over the information she gathered the night prior. She had already finalized and sent out her report to Kingsley, but she had yet to piece together what the Dark Lord's plans were regarding the Dark Objects. She was so deep into her thoughts that she was caught off guard when she found a pair of round silver eyes staring at her, barely peeking out from the edge of the desk.

"Oh, hello!"

Scorpius blushed, taking a step back and staring at his feet.

"Hello," he said shyly, glancing up at her. Hermione slowly made her away around the table and knelt before him.

"Are you looking for your daddy?"

"No," he said, slyly looking behind him before continuing. "Daddy is in shower. I secwetly escaped!" The little tyke had a hint of mischief — and what looked like triumph — in his eyes.

"Well, you're a sneaky boy aren't you," Hermione said as she chuckled. "My – my best friends used to love sneaking around causing all sorts of trouble." She smiled sadly.

"Is there something you're looking for?" she asked.

"Books!" he replied, his eyes large and full of excitement. "Daddy always reads to Scorpius! But daddy said – daddy said he fowgot to bring books."

For a moment she was surprised knowing that Malfoy read books to his son. She had assumed that from the moment Scorpius was born — based on what she understood about purebloods — he was raised by nannies or house-elves. Pureblood parents never took a hands-on role when it came to caring for their children. Malfoy's upbringing seemed to prove her assumptions, but then again they were in the middle of a war. Perhaps he sought to have a more direct role in his son's upbringing, which seemed to make sense from what she had observed thus far. A part of her began to wonder when the innocence before her would be corrupted, when Mini would be replaced with Mudblood. Hermione suppressed the thought for now.

"Well Scorpius, you're just in luck! The family that previously lived here left some children's books that I absolutely loved as a child." Hermione accio'd a book that flew into her hand and handed it over.

She grinned at Scorpius' confused expression when he tried to make sense of the cover and the words.

"It's called Goodnight Moon. My parents used to read it to me every — "

"Scorpius? Granger what the fuck are you doing with my son!" Malfoy stormed in angrily. His son was still distracted by the book in his hands but Hermione had to fight her instinct to shield him and instead met Malfoy's glare.

"I didn't take him if that's what you're wondering," she said coldly as the blond took his son into his arms.

Malfoy glared at her then turned and left the room. She almost relaxed until he walked back into the room without Scorpius.

"I swear, Granger, if you ever hurt one hair on my son's head — "

"Me? Me?" she bellowed. "I would never harm a child even if he came from the likes of you."

"Save it! I see that look in your eyes! It's hatred. Everyone always thought you were the goody Golden Girl," he snarled, "but oh, the stories I know of you, Granger. Even before the war, even at Hogwarts —"

"You don't know anything —"

"What? Can't handle your perfect reputation being ruined? Rita? Umbridge?" he chuckled. "Should I go on? Tell me, how many more have become victims to your schemes and plans."

"Fuck you, Malfoy. Do you know why I have had to cross those lines? How I have had to claw my way into a world that saw me as scum? You should! It was from your lips after all that I was first called a mudblood," she spat, pulling up her sleeve to reveal the ugly scar that marred her flesh forever.

His eyes widened, then looked away. He looked like he was going to say something but she didn't give him the chance.

"I was a fucking child. Since day one, I've had to prove myself. It didn't matter how hard I worked, what grades I got, or how much I sacrificed, it wasn't enough. That word you so proudly called me? The word that haunts me until now?" She felt herself going hysterical, but she couldn't stop. "And you have the audacity to act like you have the moral high ground? You served that fucking monster! I read through your interrogation report. And while I do believe that your main motivation for switching sides is your son's and your survival, you're not fooling anyone by pretending that blood purity is something you don't give a shit about anymore — "

"I never fucking cared about blood purity," he hissed.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue back but he beat her to it.

"I was a fucking child too! I was taught blood prejudice but I never really gave a shit. I tried, but the only thing I cared about was survival and my family. That hasn't changed."

"Still, I bet you don't like the idea of you child talking to a mud — "

"What the fuck do you want me to say, Granger? That I chose the wrong side? That my family fucked up so badly, it literally got them killed?!" His eyes were venomous as he took a step closer, but Hermione stood her ground. "Because you're right — I picked the wrong side, I told myself to believe in this blood bullshit because I hoped it would make it easier. You think I don't know how bad I've cocked up having destroyed my own son's future?! All for some fucking half-blood mad man with Potter's face who tortures — "

"Stop, just stop." Hermione clutched her head. She was overwhelmed and wasn't ready to hear about Harry.

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. When they opened, they were cold and lifeless. Occlumency. She had almost forgotten he was an Occlumens.

"All I'm saying is that I want this war to end. I want Scorpius to have a future that doesn't involve running, hiding, and death." He looked at her for another moment, almost hesitant. "I — I'm sorry I called you a mudblood. But you must believe me when I say I never truly believed in it no matter how much I wanted to and tried to. Merlin knows how much I wish I could have taken back a lot of things but what's done is done. I once thought it was too late to change things and undo what's been done, but after Scorpius I can no longer let myself believe that."

There was a moment of silence between them, neither breaking eye contact. Hermione moved first, nodding her head and turned back to her work. She exhaled a breath once the door clicked shut.

***

Draco felt exhausted. More and more the world seemed to take from him. At first his childhood then his own home taken by the Dark Lord himself. Then his father. Astoria. His mother. Fuck. And when he thought he had nothing left, his past actions and decisions threatened to take his own child from him. Living never seemed more terrifying than death. But for his son, he would give everything he had.

"Daddy, no!" Draco sighed, reflexively shutting his eyes when water splashed against him as Scorpius tried to avoid the water.

Scorpius began shrieking, tears running down his contorted features the moment he was put in the bath. As much as Draco loved his son, he still hadn't grown accustomed to Scorpius' meltdowns before bath time. When Scorpius started speaking properly at one years old, and expressed quite clearly his disdain for baths, Draco had felt like drowning then and there. He didn't know what to do because fuck he didn't know how to raise a child. But there was no one else he could really turn to. His mother had been too sickly half the time and he didn't trust anyone else.

"Scorpius, please." Draco winced, flushing at the thought of Granger hearing the noise. He instinctively reached for his wand to cast a Silencing Charm but curled his fingers when he remembered he was wandless. Like a fucking muggle. He refused to give her an excuse to verbally attack him and leverage the opportunity to turn him out.

Draco tuned out Scorpius' sobbing as he rubbed soothing circles around his tiny shampooed blond head. His thoughts returned to Granger and the fight they'd had earlier. He hadn't been lying. He never gave shit about blood purity. In the beginning perhaps, if his pathetic attempts at copying his father and gaining approval could be counted. Fuck, he really wanted to believe in it in the beginning — it would have made things easier, more simple.

But his mother's blood ran stronger in his veins. While Lucius Malfoy sought power, to the point of submitting himself for it, Narcissa Black held no loyalties but to her family. Despite her quiet and unassuming role as Lady Malfoy, she would watch the world burn — let herself burn — betraying those who threatened her family without so much as a blink if it meant the survival of those she loved. Blood purity be damned.

And that's what she had done on the night he and Scorpius escaped. She burned down Malfoy Manor and smiled when the flames engulfed her.

"Dadd – Daddy! N – no more no more!" Scorpius wailed while Draco continued to rub circles on his back.

"It's all over now," he said as he padded Scorpius down with a pathetically thin and coarse towel. Scorpius had calmed down enough to just sniffling and once dried and dressed, Draco carried him to their bed.

"Come on, Scorp. It wasn't so bad." Draco would have chuckled at his son's little scowl if it weren't for the utterly severe look on the child's face that told him that yes it was that bad and he couldn't be convinced otherwise.

Other than bath time, Scorpius was an obedient little boy. Despite feeling grateful that Scorpius did what he was told most of the time, such as when asked to stay in one place or be quiet, Draco felt guilty that his son, in his own way, understood that there was danger in the kind of world he lived in. Consequently, he had matured much faster, understanding Draco's look of panic when he put his finger to his lips or held on to him a little tighter.

"I know how Daddy can make Scowpius feel better," his son said, looking up at him.

"And how is that?" Draco's lips twitched. A Malfoy through and through.

"Daddy can wead book Mini give," Scorpius said smugly.

Draco sighed, going over to the bedside table pulling out the muggle book Granger had given his son. Much to Draco's concern, Scorpius seemed to take a liking to the witch. From the beginning, Scorpius was always wary of people — much like his own father — who weren't Draco or Narcissa. Hence, Scorpius' obvious interest in Granger surprised him.

Despite his earlier accusations, Draco did not think that Granger would hurt his son. But there was something different about her now — she seemed subdued, a quiet calm and hardness to her. The energetic curiosity that sparkled in her eyes when they were kids had dimmed into something leashed, controlled, waiting.

When she came back that night when Scorpius had found her, she reeked of residual Dark Magic alongside her own magic. He could feel the potency of her magic, alive yet dormant — it felt like molten fire. His own magic had flared almost instinctively upon sensing hers. She was a threat.

"Daddy, Mini said that the book is called Gewdnight Mwoon! How come pictures in book not moving?" Draco pulled his son on to his lap, settling the book infront of him. He did his best to explain that muggle books didn't move like his books in the Manor. And though he doubted Scorpius really understood what he was saying, his scrunched brow and look of concentration as Draco explained was too adorable for him to stop.

"In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon — " He paused as Scorpius giggled loudly. Draco shut his eyes and savored the sound.

***