"Beat, happy stars, timing with things below,

Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell.

Blest, but for some dark undercurrent woe

That seems to draw — but it shall not be so:

Let all be well, be well."

— Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"Mini, is you eating?" Scorpius asked with his mouth full and brows furrowed. His large silver eyes blinked hopefully at Hermione who, after casting a Cleaning Charm on the pans, started to make her way out.

"Oh, not tonight, Scorp!" she replied, guilt piercing through her when the little boy's face fell.

Malfoy remained silent, blankly observing the dish of roast beef in the middle of the kitchen table that only had enough servings for two.

They had not spoken since their fight last night. She tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that she felt nothing even though deep down she was angry at his assumptions and audacity to accuse her of doing anything intimate with George when she hadn't.

No, she had to put all her focus on the mission. It was a critical and potentially dangerous one, especially for Fleur and the baby. Going to a muggle doctor had occurred to them as a safer solution but Bill and Fleur were worried the problem was a magical one. It was only last night that she and George were able to scout out a healer in Romania specializing in magical pregnancies that Charlie had found using his contacts. Romania, however, was politically unstable as they had allied with Voldemort. But it was their only option — even if they somehow managed to locate a healer in a country that didn't have such a strong Death Eater presence, there was still the same risk that the healer could not be trusted.

After saying a quick goodbye and leaving the room, Hermione was almost out the door when a firm hand on her wrist stopped her. She turned, only to be met with a pair of stormy eyes.

"Don't be stupid, Granger. Don't be reckless. You know better," Malfoy said in a clipped voice, his jaw ticking as his eyes bore into her. They gazed at each other a moment longer before she nodded. He let go of her wrist.

***

They were under attack. The healer had just been wrapping up her check up on Fleur and prescribing her medication when twelve Death Eaters surrounded them. They had blasted through the protective wards of the healer's home and put up anti-Apparition wards.

Chaos ensued afterwards as the Death Eaters attacked. Immediately, Hermione let her instincts take over, slashing her arm in an arc, blasting back a pair of Death Eaters with a strong gust of wind. She took count of Bill, Fleur, and the healer on one side of the room and George on the other. They had one portkey, which Bill kept, but it would be too risky attempting to re-group without making it easier for the Death Eaters to attack them. They needed a plan.

"We're outnumbered!" Bill growled, a ferocity in his scarred face as he tore at a Death Eater with his bare hands, the brute strength and instinct of his werewolf traits surfacing.

"George and I will try to hold them off!" Hermione shot curse after curse, freezing the attackers as the first line of defense along with George while Bill continued to shield the very heavily pregnant Fleur and the old healer.

"I — I promise," the healer's voice quivered, cowering behind Bill, "I did not alert them."

"We believe you," Fleur grunted, shooting off her own curses, a rage and protectiveness in her icy blue eyes. "We knew zee risks."

"Mione!" George yelled as an invisible force flung her backwards. She smashed into a glass cabinet of potions and vials that shattered into hundreds of pieces. Hermione gasped, feeling the sting of glass shards embedded into the flesh of her back. Just then she caught a flash of red hair. George.

George cast a protego, shielding off the attackers that continued after her, the pale blue light of the shield illuminating his panicked face. "You alright?"

"Yes," she replied, gritting her teeth as she got to her feet and coming to his side with her wand raised.

Together, she and George duelled the rest of the Death Eaters.

"Prick," Hermione hissed when a curse grazed her already sprained arm, having been distracted with George at her side. He was a great fighter, having honed his skills upon his twin's death. But while she was precise and fluid, he was uncontrolled and untamed. He let his emotions guide him with a brute force, his magic a manifestation of his rage and the very fire that ran through every Weasley's veins. But as a result, she and George's spells and movements clashed like a discordant melody, a shocking contrast to what she was used to when she worked with —

"Fuck off you sonz of beetchez!" Fleur shrieked, blasting a Death Eater into the wall. Despite her large belly, Fleur was more fierce than ever. She glowed with a brilliant radiance as she severed the limbs of two more Death Eaters who had managed to get on her husband.

There were too many of them, the silver masks blurring like silver coins amidst the green and yellow flashes of spells.

"Oh shit." Hermione turned towards the source of the sound. At the edge of the room was George struggling to control his wand with two hands as it spewed fire.

"George what the fuck!" Hermione gasped as the flames raged and grew, consuming the wooden walls and Death Eaters in its path. The air immediately heated, every inhale made more difficult by the burn in their lungs.

"I got it under control!" George grunted, his arms still trying to contain the fire. Hermione clenched her jaw. Now was not the time to lecture him about his recklessness.

"We can't hold them off for too long!" Hermione yelled. "Bill! Take Fleur and the healer!"

"Ermione — " she heard Fleur say in warning.

"No, Fleur! Get out now!" Across a sea of flames and masked bodies, the witches locked eyes. Fleur clutched her wand in one hand and her belly in the other, a fierce protectiveness in her stance but also a stubbornness that Hermione had learned to appreciate as they had gotten closer in the war. "George and I will hold them off! For the baby!"

Fleur hesitated then finally nodded tersely before sending a particularly strong blast of ice at a Death Eater in her way. Hermione shielded Fleur's path as she grabbed the old healer cowering in the corner then made her way to Bill who had just knocked out another Death Eater with a spell. Bill grabbed his wife's hand and Hermione continued to cover them while Bill grabbed the portkey in his pocket and they disappeared.

Hermione would have sighed in relief if it weren't for the fumes and ash suffocating the air.

"George!" she finally choked out. She barely made him out as he forced his way towards her through the fire. The Death Eaters seemed to also be preoccupied with the flames, their masks suffocating them faster and consequently causing them to slow down.

"Hermione!" George called back upon reaching her. He panicked as he helped her straighten up. The flames were too high, too uncontrolled. They had to extinguish it. They had to —

"I need you to listen to me," she paused, spitting the ash out of her mouth before continuing. "I need you to conjure a Bubble-Head Charm — "

"Mione, we're not under water — "

"Do as I fucking say right now!" she screamed hoarsely. They didn't have time. George blinked but did as she said, copying her wand movements as she conjured an air bubble around her head. Thankfully George remained silent, keeping them shielded from the Death Eaters attacking them as she took a deep breath and waved her wand in a complex motion. She called on her magic, molded it and wielded it with her very will. She bent her wrist and slashed her wand downwards harshly. Suddenly, the room went dark, the flames completely vanishing. The Death Eaters fell one by one to the ground, desperately clawing at their throats. She had taken away the oxygen around them.

"How — "

George's words were cut off when she yanked his arm and pulled him through the bodies and ash. Once they were out of the anti-Apparition wards, she apparated them away.

***

Home.

Home was her first thought when she tugged on her magic and felt the familiar pull in her bellybutton. It was the only thought that echoed through her bones even as she kept her grip on George's arm secure and surrendered to the sensation.

Home was what she felt the moment she collapsed on the grass and looked up at the safehouse, the peeling white paint and creeping vines coming into focus. It was what called to her from the soft glow of Scorpius' night light from the upper window along with the promise of a warm hearth waiting for her inside the library. It beckoned her with the anticipation of quiet company while she read her favorite book, only to be interrupted by a glint of silver spectacles and snarky conversations.

"Shit, Mione, that was bloody brilliant!"

Hermione straightened and winced, her adrenaline subsiding and giving way to the pain in her back.

"You alright?" George asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking concerned.

Hermione smiled, hiding her discomfort. "I'm fine. Nothing major."

"Good." George relaxed, an easy smile flitting over his features. "What did you even do back there to put out the fire?"

"Oxygen. Fires need to feed off oxygen to survive. I tried this spell I read about where it takes away the oxygen from your immediate surroundings, hence the bubble spell." Hermione shrugged, glad she had found a way out last minute. George's fire had put them all at risk. But it was over now. They were safe. The baby was safe.

"Choked those bloody Death Eaters as well," he smirked. "Honestly, I don't know what we'd do without your brilliant mind."

Hermione bit her tongue, ignoring the way the compliment brought her more bitterness than comfort.

"No need for the thanks." She gave him a small smile. She really needed to get back inside and tend to her wounds. "You should go check on Fleur and the rest."

George's eyes widened. "Right. You'll be alright, yeah?"

"Of course."

"That's our girl." George winked then kissed her cheek before disapparating with a twist.

Hermione breathed out a tired sigh and made her way towards the safehouse. Mentally, she sorted through the potions and spells she needed to use to treat her wounds. It would probably require some trial and error since she couldn't see her back, but she didn't have the energy to apparate to the healer at headquarters. Besides, she had already assured George she was fine. She didn't want the rest, especially Fleur, to stress.

Once Hermione entered the foyer, she barely managed to hold herself up from exhaustion. She blinked at her reflection staring across from her in the mirror. Soot and blood was smeared all over her face. Hermione winced when she tried to remove her bloodied robes. She clenched her teeth, feeling the sharp tearing of her flesh when she tried once again to pull the robe from her sticky back. Cold sweat beaded her brow. She counted to three and inhaled deeply before giving a hard yank. She whimpered at the searing pain of her wounds tearing open again, her vision going white for a moment. Once her eyesight returned, through her dizziness, she realized there were two hands steadying her.

Hermione straightened immediately, ignoring the pain shooting down her spine.

"Thanks, but I can take it from here," she tried to say in a cool voice.

Malfoy blinked at her blankly as if bored. "Yes, it's quite evident with how you're swaying on your feet," he drawled.

"I'm fine," she replied, jutting her chin out and mustering her best glare.

His eyes narrowed, hands still grasping her shoulders.

"No, you're not." Draco's eyes bore into hers, challenging her to deny it. His gaze rattled her, it was as if he was reading her, seeing through her. It always unsettled her, how easy he could read her, how closely he observed her with an attentiveness that she had labeled as that of a Slytherin waiting to exploit her every weakness. But in the closeness with which he was standing before her, his cool breath ghosting over her bloodied lips and the tightening of his hands on her shoulders, she didn't know what those labels and preconceived notions she had were anymore.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Even if I was not fine, why would you care?"

She waited for him to respond to her own challenge. Malfoy's mouth opened and closed before it settled into a hard line. Hermione took a step backwards, and just as she was about to tell him to leave her be, she felt her legs tremble before giving way. Before she knew it, she was being directed by a strong arm around her waist to her room.

"Where are your supplies?" a deep voice commanded once she was placed to sit on her bed.

"Bathroom cabinet," she rasped, breathing heavily. Without looking, she knew she had shards of glass still pierced into her flesh spanning her left shoulder and her lower back. Some parts of her back felt numb, the other parts burning. Shit, the potions. The potions in the broken bottles she smashed into must have caused infections on her open wounds.

Before she could say anything, cool fingers gently applied a salve that stung for a few seconds before it numbed some of the pain. There was a pause. She made to turn her head but was stopped when gentle hands brushed her hair over one shoulder.

"I need to cut off the rest of your shirt to get to the wounds properly." Hermione thought she heard discomfort in his voice but she was too tired to think more on it.

"Do it."

Without answering, Draco cut her shirt with his wand with surprising care, making sure not to pull the material off too harshly. Hermione winced at the first dab of cloth. She felt him pause behind her but she murmured for him to keep going. Quickly, he continued and pried each piece of glass from her back. Once done, he focused on cleaning and healing her wounds.

Draco's movements were light and quick. He observed every small intake of breath and rigidness of her body when the wound was particularly deep. Once or twice she caught his face over her shoulder — his expression concentrated and focused. She had opened and closed her mouth twice when he rummaged through the emergency potion supply kit to tell him what he should treat her infections with but his movements were sure and focused as he took what he needed. She kept her mouth shut, and for once in her life, enjoyed not having to tell someone what to do.

"I apologize about the other night." Hermione blinked, thinking that in her daze she was hearing things. But there was no mistaking the clear voice. "I didn't mean to jump on assumptions like that. It was irrational and unfair."

Hermione swallowed. Letting his words sink in.

"And I apologize for bringing up Astoria," she spoke softly. When he remained silent, she turned to look at him. His expression was closed, his posture stiff and his eyes glazed over. Occlumency.

Hermione had difficulty stifling her curiosity. Neither he nor Scorpius mentioned Astoria much.

"It's alright," he finally replied. His eyes flickered. She could not read his expression.

Hermione nodded in understanding when he didn't say more, refusing to pry. She had no right after all. She was simply an outsider to his and Scorpius' world. She had to remind herself that because she often forgot. She sometimes fucking forgot when Scorpius looked at her and leaned into her. She forgot that this child had a mother. His real mother. Hermione had always had a motherly instinct, basically mothering Harry and Ron at Hogwarts — and that's what she convinced herself this was. Just her motherly instinct. But more and more she found herself believing she belonged somewhere she clearly did not.

"Do the wounds still hurt?" Draco asked a moment later, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Not as much," she responded. She lied.

***

"Yay! Mini is going to wead Scowpius bedtime book!" Scorpius said triumphantly as he scurried into their room. Draco paused, blinking at his son struggling to hoist himself up on their bed, then, after successfully doing so, tucking himself in. Before he could ask Scorpius what was going on, Hermione walked in hesitantly with a book in her hand. Draco cleared his throat, adjusting his reading glasses.

"Here, Mini!" the boy said, patting on his left side for her to sit. "And here, daddy!" he said, patting the place on his other side.

Both Draco and Hermione shifted uncomfortably but moved towards their places when the toddler crossed his arms and raised a pale brow expectantly.

"Now, Mini you wead and daddy you be quiet and listen," Scorpius said cheekily as he snuggled in between them, ignoring his father's affronted look. To break the awkward silence, Hermione began to read him another children's book she had managed to find in the attic.

Hermione had just gotten to the part where she introduced the dragon family when Scorpius excitedly pulled the book closer.

"Daddy Dragon is daddy," Scorpius said as he pointed at the largest dragon with green scales and a bowtie. "Baby Dragon is Scowpius," he continued, giggling and pointing his little finger at the illustration of the tiny little blue dragon.

"Yes it is," Hermione smiled softly.

"And Mama Dragon is Mini!" he exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the illustration of the mother dragon with red scales and long eyelashes.

Hermione stilled. From her periphery vision, she saw Draco do the same. Her chest tightened.

At their silence, Scorpius looked up at them with furrowed eyebrows and an angry expression. Draco cleared his throat.

"Astoria is your mother, Scorpius... " he said softly, his face schooled into a calm patience.

Scorpius' face went red, eyes shimmering. "Astowia is mother, but Mini is — Mini is mama." Scorpius replied with such conviction it startled Hermione. The little boy turned his attention to her, his eyes desperately searching hers. Hermione's heart twisted at the hint of fear in his face as he waited for her to confirm his statement.

"Scorpius, I don't think —" Draco began firmly, but stopped at the flash of confusion and hurt that crossed his son's face when his head whipped towards him.

The things Hermione tried to suppress started bubbling up. She felt like an intruder, she felt like she was stepping over boundaries again. She did not belong, she did not belong. A sharp pain sliced through her. Deep down, deep down — no. She couldn't let herself follow that thought. She knew how it would end. It was too much. It was Harry, it was Ron, it was her parents, it was everyone she had lost. It was the loss of herself and the loss of her place in the lives of people she had — still — loved. And that was the truth — she didn't belong in anyone's life anymore, there wasn't a place for her anywhere.

"It's getting late, I think I should go..." she mumbled. Hermione avoided Draco's gaze and forced herself to look away when she caught sight of Scorpius' tears. She croaked out another goodbye before she left the room.

***