"So, what's on the agenda for today, Potter?"

Draco sauntered into the kitchen the next morning. New Years Day. The day before the boys go back to Hogwarts.

"I've planned nothing." I confessed, sighing as I pressed a coffee into his hand. "I wanted to see what the boys fancied doing, seeing as it's their last day."

Our eyes met and I felt an unexpected heaviness in my chest. I quickly looked away, hurriedly putting on some toast.

"I must admit Potter, it's certainly been a Christmas to remember," he mused, taking a tentative sip of his coffee.

I looked back at him, my heart fluttering as our lips simultaneously twitched up at the corners. I felt the sudden maddening urge to leap across the kitchen and throw myself into his arms, to tell him that I loved him, and that I wanted him to stay.

"I'm going to miss them." I said instead, leaving the rest upspoken. I'm going to miss you. "It'll be strange not having them around." Don't leave.

Draco cleared his throat, pulling up a chair at the kitchen table. "I know what you mean," he spoke, his eyes softening as he looked at me, "it's been... well, Scorp's loved it- it's been good for him... thank you." He cleared his throat again, shifting in his seat.

A silence. I could hear my heart hammering in my chest as I willed myself to say something- anything to let him know that I wanted him to stay. But then the door flew open, and my attention was quickly diverted as Albus and Scorpius entered the kitchen, both yawning sleepily.

"Hey, boys!" I said with forced joviality, trying to swallow down the sudden ache in my throat. "Draco and I were just discussing the fact that it's your last day today, so what would you boys like to do?"

Both shrugged as they plonked themselves heavily down at the table.

"Just thought we'd pack and shit," Albus grunted.

"Language, Al!" I scorned, throwing a plate piled with toast down onto the table.

"Like you're one to talk!" Albus cried indignantly as he quickly snatched the top slice.

Draco chuckled over the newspaper that had suddenly appeared in his hands. I shot him a filthy look.

"It's true, though, Potter," he drawled, his eyes glinting up at me, "I've never heard anyone curse quite like you."

"Doesn't mean it's okay for my son to do it as well." I said haughtily, making Draco chuckle further as I poked my tongue out at him.

"Pfft, double standards," Albus muttered under his breath.

"Anyway, what about you, Scorp?" I asked, turning instead to the quiet blonde-haired boy who seemed to be wearing a rather morose expression on his face. "Any ideas of what you would like to do today?"

"There was something, actually," he said quietly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Go on, Scorp," Draco gently encouraged, lowering his newspaper to give him his full attention.

Scorpius appeared to take a deep breath, as if steeling himself to say it. "I- I wanted to go and see Mum."

He said it in such a small voice, I wasn't sure I had heard right. But of course, I had. Why wouldn't the poor kid want to go and visit his mother's grave?

My eyes darted to Draco and I caught the sag of his shoulders and the tremor of his breath. "Of course, Scorp," he murmured softly, "I'm sorry, I should have thought to ask."

"Well, why don't you two go after breakfast?" I suggested brightly, forcing a smile as I looked around the table. "Al and I can do something together. How about it, Al? Fancy doing something - just the two of us?"

Albus just shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever." He could not have sounded less enthusiastic.

I noticed Scorpius frown up at him, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes.

"Is everything okay, Scorp?" I asked warily. "You're alright with that aren't you?"

But he did not answer me, did not even seem to have heard me.

"You don't know how lucky you are," Scorpius said slowly, staring intently at Albus. "If I could have one day, just one day with mum again, I'd give up everything I have for it."

I swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that had suddenly pricked dangerously at my eyes. Poor, sweet Scorpius. I was really going to miss him.

Albus sat up, looking rightfully shamed by his friend's words. Pink spots appeared on his cheeks as he glanced guiltily from Scorpius to me. "Yeah... sorry. I'd like that, Mum. Sounds... good."

"Great," I smiled anxiously, my eyes darting to Scorpius who was looking back morosely down at the table, "well, let's get some breakfast down you boys and then we can discuss what we're going to do."

I glanced quickly back at Draco and, as our eyes met, he threw me a fleeting, grateful smile.

***

"You go on, Scorp," Draco said, glancing nervously down at his son as they hovered outside a pair of sinister looking wrought iron gates. "I'll wait here."

Draco did not do graveyards. As far as he was concerned, once the funeral was done, so was he. He did not buy into the notion that visiting a cold, rotting corpse in the freshly turned up ground helped with one's grieving process. He liked to remember people as they were; talking, smiling, alive.

A sudden memory of his mother laughing flashed in his mind, momentarily taking the wind out of his lungs. This was unusual in itself as laughing was not something Narcissa Malfoy had done often. But when she had, it had been, Draco recalled, one of the most heavenly sounds in the world. A rare, beautiful treat.

And now she lay there beyond the gates, tucked away in the corner, buried beneath an apple tree. A Blenheim Orange, to be precise. Draco knew this because he had looked it up after the funeral, having been captivated by the pink flowering blossom. An otherwise beautiful sight in a place that reeked darkness and death. It made him feel strangely happy that it stood over his mother, protecting her.

Yet he refused to visit her, refused to stand over the skeleton of the person that used to hug him and kiss him goodnight. The thought of stepping inside the place made his chest tight. He had barely made it through Astoria's burial knowing his mother had been there, just out of sight.

"But... aren't you coming with me?"

Draco blinked. Scorpius was looking up at him, pale and frightened. An uneasiness settled in the pit of Draco's stomach; it was like looking into a mirror at his own thirteen-year-old self. And what did that make him? His father?

No. He refused to be the cold, unloving man that Lucius had been towards him.

"I, uh- um... sure." Draco stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, and trying not to allow the panic to show in his eyes. He needed to pull himself together for his son's sake.

Which is how he found himself standing by his late wife's grave, trying not to stare at the words that made him feel nauseous. Beloved mother, beloved wife.

"Do you think wherever she is, she is happy?"

Draco searched his mind for something appropriate to say. For he knew that telling Scorpius what he really thought was not what his son needed to hear, that when the dead were dead, that was it. Worm food.

"Of course, son."

"Do you think she was happy when she was alive?"

Again, Draco found himself at a loss for words. Had she? Had his wife ever been happy? Had he even ever asked her?

He had been so consumed in his own misery of a love lost, obsessing everyday in thoughts of what could have been, that he had not even considered those around him.

He was a selfish, selfish man.

"She was happy she had you." This, at least, Draco knew to be true.

"She loved us, though, didn't she, Dad? She loved us a lot."

Draco found his heart hammering uneasily against his ribs, his collar suddenly felt tight, and he wanted to be anywhere but here having this conversation with his son.

"Of course, she did, Scorp," he said, not being able to hide the strain in his voice, guilt making him hate himself beyond belief. "She loved you very much."

Despite the biting January wind, Draco suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. He wished Scorpius would stop asking questions.

"And you?" Scorpius pressed, glancing up at him, his eyes so piercing that Draco swore he was trying to look into his soul. "She loved you too?"

Draco nodded, looking away. Yes, Astoria had loved him. She had loved him so much, in fact, that she was willing to sacrifice her happiness for his.

He thought about his love for Etta. Was it enough that he would do the same for her?

The answer, of course, was in his pocket. A single text message, left unanswered on his phone.

*****

"Well this is fun, isn't it?"

Albus and I were in the kitchen, carefully preparing a feast together.

"Yeah," he laughed somewhat nervously, as he scrubbed carrots in the sink.

My god, of all the things I could think of - this was the only thing I could come up with. But at least Albus was trying, if not a little hesitantly.

"So, are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts tomorrow?" I asked, hoping to get the conversation flowing as I glazed the ham.

Albus shrugged half heartedly. "I suppose, but I'll miss it here."

This surprised me.

"I've liked having Scorp and his dad here," he explained at seeing the shock on my face, "it's like being part of a real family, you know."

My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. I hadn't realised Albus ever felt like I wasn't enough.

"How do you think Scorp has been? Do you think he's been happy here too?" I asked, curious to my son's perspective.

He paused, seeming to ponder his answer.

"Yes, considering he's sad about his mum. But he was sad about that at Hogwarts, you know. And being here, he's seemed happier, I guess." Albus looked at me, hesitantly. "And so have you."

I paused in the process of putting the ham in the oven, closed my eyes and swallowed that damned lump again.

"Yes," I struggled to choke out, the past couple of weeks flashing through my mind, "I have been happy. Very happy."

***

Draco and Scorpius arrived back from the graveyard both looking as glum as the other. I kept trying to catch Draco's eye throughout lunch, but he seemed suspiciously determined not to look at me.

So, I waited until the boys went upstairs to pack their things, leaving us alone to clear up.

"How did it go?" I asked gently as we stood side by side, Draco washing, me drying.

He looked drained; his features pinched in a strained manner that hurt my heart.

"He misses her," he said sadly, "and I feel helpless."

Dropping the tea towel down on the side, I gently placed a hand on his arm.

"You're doing your best," I said looking up at him, "he's lucky to have you."

Draco froze, looked down at my hand and then back up at my face, his grey eyes swirling with a look I could not quite fathom.

"Thank you, Potter," he murmured, keeping his intense gaze on me. "For everything."

His words were so final, causing my already heavy heart to feel as though it had been replaced by the biggest fucking paperweight in the world.

I removed my hand from his arm and looked away.

Don't leave me.

***

I heard my phone beep from upstairs just as we had finished clearing away the dishes. I quickly excused myself to go check on it.

Hey, Red. I hope you don't mind - Drac passed on your digits. Give me a shout sometime and we'll catch up. B x

I sat down on the edge of my bed, my heart hammering horribly in my chest. I felt as though I couldn't breathe. What the fuck did this mean? Instead of being happy that Blaise had reached out to me; I was fucking heartbroken that Draco was willing to let me go.

Shaking, I walked back down to the kitchen where Draco was making the coffee.

"You gave him my number." I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I closed the door carefully behind me.

Draco looked up, his face impassive.

"You gave Blaise my number." I repeated when he failed to respond.

The bob of his Adam's apple.

"Yeah," he muttered, pouring the milk.

"Why?" I choked out.

Draco carefully put down the milk, and slowly turned to face me. His eyes burned into mine from across the room, looking intent and sad at the same time.

"Because I'm not good for you, Etta. All I've ever done is cause you unhappiness and I don't want to be the reason anymore. And you... you deserve to be with someone who will treat you-" he paused to take a heavy, shaky breath, "who will treat you like a... queen. But that's not me, it can never be me."

"That's how you feel?" I asked, shaking; hardly being able to believe what I was hearing.

"Yes, Etta," he nodded slowly, but firmly. "I'm finally doing what I should have done a long time ago."

He paused, looking straight at me, grey eyes piercing into mine as his throat bobbed once again.

"I'm releasing you."

*****