"Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain."

— John Keats

"Is we coming back, daddy?" Scorpius said while observing his father pack a bag with some of their items.

"Yes we are — we'll just be in the woods for a couple of days," Draco replied, ruffling Scorpius' hair once he finished shrinking his son's toy dragon.

A week after their mission, Granger located a site where they could find Hellebore plants to harvest its tears. The tears were an ingredient listed for one of the experimental substances the Dark Lord's potion masters were working on, which she intended to replicate. The recipe was left in haste in one of the labs the Order had infiltrated and it was only weeks later that Granger found an area in a forest near the Carpathian Mountains that harbored the plant. It was a simple mission, safe enough to allow him bring Scorpius along especially since they were not sure how long it would take. They were to go and stay in the forest for a couple days to retrieve what they needed then return.

"Is Watsy coming?" Scorpius perked up, blinking at his father with wide silver eyes.

"He'll be meeting us there." Draco quirked a smile. His son had been undeterred by the crabby old elf, constantly following him around and babbling to him about his day. The elf had tried to make Scorpius leave him alone — sneering at the boy and grunting whenever Scorpius asked him questions. But Scorpius had simply giggled and copied his facial expression. Exhausted, Watson chose to ignore the child.

"All set, Malfoy?" Granger asked from the doorway. Her deep brown eyes peeked out from behind the curls of hair that fell across her face as she looked up from that beaded bag of hers. Draco shrunk their own bag and, after tucking it in his pocket, scooped up Scorpius and followed her out the room.

Once in the foyer, Hermione unwrapped a piece of cloth that revealed their portkey in the shape of the button. Gingerly, she placed a finger on it, Draco's larger, slender one grazing hers as he held on to his son tightly with the other arm. The button glowed, signaling its activation, pulling the trio by the navel and in seconds they found themselves in the middle of the forest.

"Don't like," Scorpius groaned softly once they arrived, shutting his eyes and laying his head on his father's shoulder.

"It's all over. No more portkeys today," Draco murmured, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He looked up, feeling Granger's stare on him. Her brows were furrowed in concern and it seemed as if she was going to step forward. But upon seeing his scrutinizing gaze, she schooled her features then pulled out the map and studied the dozen potential campsites she had marked.

As she did so, Draco took in his surroundings. Despite being autumn, this section of the forest seemed stuck in that brief moment between winter and spring. The leaves shimmered as if frost had just thawed off of them like crystalized shells. There was a kind of tentative awakening in the faint humming of bees, buds of rosettes puckering and unfurling as if woken from a hazy dream by the soft touch of sunlight spilling through the canopy of leaves.

There was no war here. And for a moment, Draco felt like he was a child again, playing in his mother's rose garden when spring first kissed the grounds of the Manor. When the only screams that resonated in the halls was that of a child's as his mother chased him down the hallways on her bare feet — laughter when she caught him, telling him to hush because his father was in his study and would be upset to find them both barefoot and muddied from the grounds. And his father, peeking inconspicuously from the doorway, watching them fondly — pretending he hadn't caught them.

"Okay, so now we just need to scout out for the most optimal campsite. I reckon this one I've marked near the lake would be the best," Granger rambled, rummaging for something in her bag. She pulled out what looked like two matchsticks.

"What dat?" Scorpius asked curiously, squirming in his father's arms to take a peek. Instead of responding, Hermione grimaced as she enlarged the sticks in her palms.

"Bwooms!" Scorpius squealed, pushing away from his father who let him down so that he could make his way over to the two brooms hovering before her.

"Erm yes, it is," she said warily. "It will be the most efficient way to scout for a location to camp..."

Draco smirked, knowing full well the cause of the witch's nervousness. A flash of curly hair bouncing wildly on a bucking broom flashed across his memory. Before he could stop it, a chuckle escaped his lips and his smile widened at the glare she shot him.

"Malfoy, you and Scorpius will take one. I'll take the other," said Hermione, without meeting his amused and arrogant gaze. "According to the map, there should be a small clearing with magical trees that ward the area against magical creatures..."

Draco ignored her lecturing as he evaluated the broom. It was a standard broom, definitely not new, built more for safety and sturdiness rather than speed. He ran his fingers over the dark chestnut wood that could use a good sanding and polish.

"Granger — " Draco paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight of Hermione Granger in a hulking padded vest, thick gauntlets, and knee pads, fighting against her ridiculous curls as she tried to stuff them underneath a helmet.

"Not a word, Malfoy," Hermione grunted as she clicked the last buckle into place. "Safety is an absolute priority! Now yours and Scorpius' gear are laid out right there — "

Draco bristled. "I'm not putting on — "

"It's mandatory! You may have your wand back, but you and Scorpius are still my responsibility! Don't make me give this as an official order."

Draco stiffened then reluctantly pulled on the gear on himself and then Scorpius.

"Daddy, don't like! Don't like!" Scorpius whined when his father secured his little vest around him.

"I know, I know, Scorpius," Hermione sighed, climbing onto her broom. "But we need to be safe. These are for protection so we don't get hurt — "

Hermione broke off with a yelp when the broom wobbled and twisted, almost causing her to fall off if it wasn't for the large hand gripping the edge of the broomstick, stopping it from spinning. Hermione's cheeks reddened as she followed the arm and looked up only to meet a pair silver eyes laced with mirth. A pale brow raised at her when she remained silent.

Hermione huffed, readjusting herself when Malfoy released his grip and straightened, easily towering over her from where she hovered barely a foot off the ground.

"Well, let's get going," Hermione said as she turned up her nose and feigned confidence.

Hermione watched as he scooped an excited Scorpius in his arms, looking like a little quaffle in his padded gear. Despite his height and padded bulk, Malfoy gracefully mounted the broom, one arm around Scorpius seated in front of him, who attempted to grip the handle with a look of determination in his brows.

"Is okay, Mini," Scorpius said as he looked over at her cooly, obviously noticing her nervousness, "daddy will make sure you safe! Daddy always protect Scowpius!"

It was Draco's turn to flush as he shuffled uncomfortably on the broom. Instead of responding, he lifted them up higher, giving in to that familiar feeling of utter freedom whenever he flew.

"Wait, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled. "You're supposed to follow my lead!"

Hermione's jaw clenched when he rolled his eyes. With determination, she lifted herself higher and higher, the broom shaky and unsteady. She tried not to look down.

"Scared, Granger?" Malfoy called out from above her. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she gripped the broom with more determination, and, very much dignified, steadily moved past him, avoiding eye contact.

***

Hermione left Watson and Scorpius at the campsite to call Malfoy for dinner. The lake was located nearby and, after checking the perimeter, it looked safe, void of any water creatures beneath the surface. The night was cool and silent except for the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves.

Once Hermione reached the edge of the foliage, however, she paused. Draco Malfoy stood in the lake with his bare back turned towards her as the waters softly licked the dip of his spine. Moonlight dripped over his shoulders in droplets as his corded muscles rippled, tendons tensing then releasing. His hair shone as if spooled from starlight, stark against the dark quiet waters. He tipped his head upwards, and for a moment everything was still, as if in anticipation, except for the stars that danced overhead.

Hermione found herself held by that same curiosity she had had that night of the mission. His paleness was almost startling, like moonlight made flesh as silver scarred lines traced his back like unexplored constellations.Yet there was an odd sense of belonging in the way he stood bathing the black waters that were mortally still under his touch. A heavy glow, a steady pulse, the pale purity in which he stood so at odds with the dark undercurrent around him like an old, dormant kind of power — waiting, beckoning.

"Enjoying the show, Granger?"

Hermione froze, thankful the darkness hid her blush. She cleared her throat.

"Dinner is ready," she responded clinically. He looked over his shoulder, the edge of his lips curling as if indulging in some kind of secret she could not possibly understand. Intent on maintaining her dignity, Hermione turned and brisk walked back to the campsite before he could fully face her when he came out of the lake.

By the time Malfoy arrived, damp haired but fully dressed, Hermione was sitting before the fire once more going over that night's plans to harvest Hellebore tears. It had taken a frustrating amount of time for her to locate the plant, but she finally did so in an old journal of an unnamed herbologist she had found in an abandoned library in Kent.

"Daddy look! There samanders in the fire! Mini said they like fire!" Scorpius said excitedly as Draco sat beside him with a bowl in his hands. He pressed a kiss the boy's hair then glanced at the fire that indeed had salamanders dozing in it, reminding him of his lessons with the half-giant Hagrid back in Hogwarts.

"Yes they do," he replied. "And did you finish your meal?"

"Yes! I grow like big boy!" Scorpius started talking about all the plants and bugs he noticed that day, his chatter filling out the space along with the crisp crackle of the bonfire.

"So, Granger," Draco said once Scorpius dozed off and Watson levitated him into their tent, "are there any traps I should be aware of once we locate the Hellebore?"

Hermione finally glanced up, furrowing her brow. "Well, they're more of a defensive species, so we would just have to look out for tricks or defensive mechanisms when harvesting. But I wouldn't put my guard down. You see, often in wild ecosystems, symbiosis often occurs wherein — "

"A mutually beneficial relationship is formed between two entities," Draco interrupted, the edges of his lips lifting at her owlish expression. "I know what it means, Granger."

"Anyways," Hermione continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if another plant, one with offensive mechanisms, lives in symbiosis with the Hellebore."

Draco only nodded and when the day descended into midnight, they hopped on their brooms and ventured to the marked location.

They arrived at a small grove of flowers shaped like stars with opal petals that shone iridescently on the forest ground. Draco watched the flowers sway and rustle in the night air as if dancing to a melody he could not hear. Before Draco could touch one of the flowers, Hermione immediately snatched his hand back.

"Don't," she said, "Hellebores only bear one flower per cycle. The rest of these must be decoys."

The pair scanned the patches of flowers, avoiding touching them. They all looked identical — each in perfect symmetry, delicate and without flaw. Draco took another step but paused when his foot caught on a root. He looked down and cursed.

"What — " In the next moment, vines crawled up both their legs and torsos. Draco squirmed, his panic immediately building as the smell of fresh blood and the feeling of cold scales slithering around his body invaded his senses. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Malfoy! Relax!" Hermione commanded but it went unheard as Draco's breathing continued to grow harsher and harsher, eyes unseeing.

"I didn't do it, my Lord — I didn't — "

Hermione's breath caught, realizing he was locked in a memory. Instinctively, she grabbed his hand. Malfoy blindly gripped hers back. Hard.

"Malfoy, listen to me!"

"Granger?" his voice rasped, "Nagini, she's here she — " His head continued to whip around, the vines snaked up faster and faster the more he tried to escape it.

"Malfoy, these vines are a similar species to the Devil's Snare, it's not Nagini — " Draco gritted his teeth, crushing Hermione's fingers but she held on.

"I need you to relax, okay? I need you to calm down," she said as she relaxed her own body, already feeling the vines loosen around her waist. Calmly, Hermione continued to murmur facts about the Devil's Snare and information she remembered from one of their first herbology lessons. She found herself going off tangent into memories of first year, letting the awe she felt at seeing magical plants and creatures for the first time seep into her voice, the wonder in which she saw a butterflower bloom and a bowtruckle dance up her arm and hide in her hair. Malfoy seemed to listen intently and begin to calm down as she kept going.

Finally, the vines loosened completely and they were able to extract themselves. Malfoy's eyes were dark and distant, his breathing back to normal, but his hand remained tightly clasped around hers.

"Over there." Hermione was startled by his calm voice but immediately recovered and followed his gaze towards a lone flower amongst a set of boulders. It was battered and old, its petals dull and limp. Hermione pulled them closer.

"It's usually the battered and ugly ones that don't tend to be picked, that are overlooked," Hermione murmured almost inaudibly as she crouched. Slowly, she lifted a finger and caressed one of the petals. A soft light emitted from the flower and as it dimmed a small tear trickled down its petals. Hermione immediately accio'd a vial and caught the tears. The drops shimmered like fresh pearls, the coolness of the glass vial in her palm at odds with the sinking warmth of Malfoy's hand in the other.

***

A comfortable silence stretched over them as Draco and Hermione sat in silence in front of the fire, tending to their light scratches from the vines. Then, Malfoy looked at her blankly upon the fourth time she glanced at him. He gave her a look that said he could hear her thoughts and that she might as well speak them.

"So," Hermione began, unable to hold back her curiosity, "Nagini?"

Draco looked back down and finished rubbing the Murtlap Essence around the blisters on his ankle before responding.

"Yes." He hesitated for a moment. "The Dark Lord liked to use her on his... servants," — the word spoken darkly — "when he was displeased."

"I see," Hermione replied quietly, not needing any more information to confirm her thoughts. She paused, avoiding his gaze. "And — and Harry... "

"Completely gone." Draco smiled ruefully. "Don't get me wrong — he looks the same. But there's nothing left of Harry Potter in that body."

"I knew that already — but I just needed to make sure. Ron, he... "

A pained look briefly flickered over her features.

"I saw him, you know." Hermione's head snapped up. "Weasley. Appeared during a small raid for Dark Artifacts I was leading. He knew the Dark Lord would make an appearance — it was a setup. Weasley, that stupid git, set it up to lure the Dark Lord save his best friend he said."

Hermione was still as she let him continue, trying to calm the pounding in her ears.

"But he was let go," Draco continued. "The Dark Lord found it more of a punishment to let him live. He wasn't wrong I suppose."

No one knew where Ron was — except Molly who got the occasional text message from his muggle phone. But no one looked for him anymore. She didn't. They had fought before he left. Months after Harry's body was taken by Voldemort, Ron had still been convinced he could be saved, that one day the Golden Trio would be back together. And then he had abandoned her, accusing her of abandoning Harry when they needed him the most. She didn't know if she could keep trying to convince him that Harry was gone. Fucking gone.

And so she had mourned, mourned people who were still, in different definitions, alive. Harry, Ron, her parents.

"Were you surprised?" Hermione broke from her thoughts and looked incredulously at Malfoy. "When Weasley left you," he said, gaze unflinching, not skirting around as others did.

Her mind buzzed with a million memories and explanations, but deep down she knew the answer was a simple one. "No, I wasn't."

To her surprise, he merely nodded, no judgement in his expression. Suddenly, his brows furrowed as he stared into the fire, his eyes the color high summer, an odd warmth to them she never thought she would ever associate with him.

"I remember seeing you," he said, still staring at the flames, "in third year. When you were exiled from the Golden Trio. You went to Hagrid's hut almost everyday because Potter and Weasley ignored and abandoned you."

Haven't you done enough damage this year? Can you hear someone talking, Harry?

"It was because of the Firebolt wasn't it? You told McGonagall about it because you were worried it was cursed."

Hermione just nodded stiffly. Draco scoffed.

"Madman who was after Potter escaped from Azkaban and they both had the nerve to break the rules because fuck it, yeah?" Draco's expression was hard.

Hermione sighed after a moment. "I wasn't surprised that Ron chose Harry. He always had. Always will. But sometimes even knowing beforehand doesn't make it feel any less worse."

There was a moment of silence as they both lost themselves in thought. "Well, regardless, to everyone else you seemed to have held yourself together that year," Draco said as he dusted his sleeves, "running around the library with that swotty look on your face and that bush on your head." He smirked at her narrowed eyes.

"Actually I almost failed an exam."

Draco just rolled his eyes and lifted an eyebrow sardonically. "Let me guess — it was Lupin's obstacle course and you almost didn't conquer your boggart because it had turned into Dumbledore telling you you failed everything."

Hermione turned red.

"It was Minerva," she gritted out.

Malfoy paused, blinking at her before he tipped his head back and laughed. It was a warm, genuine laugh that went through her like mulled wine.