For the next four months, every Thursday night, he was mine and I was his.

We no longer bothered meeting up in the pub that had brought us back together, instead he would just Apparate straight to my flat, where I would always make sure I was home in time from the Ministry, never later than seven o'clock.

Often, we would just jump straight to it, hungry for one another after our weeklong separation, tearing off clothes as we devoured one another on the spot. Occasionally we would make it to the bedroom; most times, however, we would not.

And we would talk. We talked about everything other than the fact that he was a married man, and that I was the Other Woman. I guess it made it easier for us to bear the guilt if we simply pretended that Astoria did not exist.

As I predicted, he spoke nothing about leaving her. But I noticed he began to remove his wedding ring, leaving an accusatory white line upon his left finger. I pictured him pausing outside my front door to slip it off, and I wondered what went through his mind as he pocketed it out of sight.

We never went anywhere other than the confines of my little London flat. On the rare occasion when we were too exhausted to fuck, we would curl up on the sofa together and just watch television, a Muggle conception which bemused Draco to no end.

"But we're just watching people on the television watching television," he said, aghast at the programme I was making him watch. "Where's the entertainment value in that?"

"It's mind numbing and that works for me," I muttered dully, nuzzling my head further into the crook of his neck.

I could sense his smirk as he kissed the top of my head, tightening his arms around me. "Another bad day in the office I take it, Potter?"

"Ugh, like you wouldn't believe," I complained, recalling the state I had left my desk in earlier that evening. "You'd think being a Dark Wizard Catcher would be fun, but in fact it's a job full of tedious paperwork."

"You do realise you're an Auror and not a superhero?" Draco said giving a derisive snort. "Although given how you were at Hogwarts, I would never have placed you being tied to a desk job under a mountain of paperwork."

"Yeah, well times were different back then," I shrugged, sighing heavily. "We were kids in the middle of a war."

A silence fell between us, and my mind suddenly filled with faces of all the dead. I closed my eyes as a wave of terror passed over me, the memories never failing to bring back feelings of desolation and despair. To me, it had never felt like we had won the war, not really.

Draco had gone quiet, I glanced up to see him staring intensely down at me; a slight frown creasing his forehead.

"What was it like?" he murmured softly, his eyes searching questioningly into mine, as if he could find the answer in my own. "What was it like to die?"

I tensed. This was the first time he had brought up that night. The night I chose death over us.

Entwining my fingers with his, I thought hard, searching for the right words to use. I owed him that at least.

"It- it was surprisingly calm," I said slowly, closing my eyes as I took myself back to that moment, "and it was fearless, you know... you've reached the ultimate end and it's like, suddenly there is nothing left to be afraid of."

I opened my eyes to see Draco staring down at me with such rapt attention.

"Dumbledore was there," I continued, noticing him briefly flinch at the mention of our old headmaster. "He told me I had a choice, and I chose to come back. And then I knew, I knew I had the strength to kill him."

Draco swallowed, looking at me as though he was seeing me properly for the first time. "You were so brave, Etta," he breathed, his voice full of both awe and sadness.

We both fell silent, staring at one another, the light of the television flickering over our faces.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I know," he murmured, "I know now why you did what you did."

And I could see that he truly meant that. My heart thudding in my chest, I brought a trembling hand up to his face and cupped his cheek beneath my fingers.

"I love you, Draco."

He closed his eyes and let out a soft, contented sigh as though savouring my words.

"I love you too, Etta."

It would have been a perfect moment if was not for the fact that he refused to leave his fucking wife.

***

I knew something was wrong straight away.

For a start, it wasn't a Thursday.

"Draco?" I asked, staring in confusion at my unexpected Saturday night visitor standing on the other side of my front door.

It had been a rather dull start to the weekend. I had spent the day in rubber gloves and trackies, giving my flat a thorough spring clean. I thought I had better get with the programme, even if I was a bit behind, seeing as it was already the end of June.

I certainly had not been expecting anyone. Least of all Draco. In the four months that he had been 'visiting', he had never once strayed from our Thursday night arrangement. I glanced down self consciously at my dirt smeared clothes. The fucker could have at least warned me.

There was a look in his eyes I did not like. A look that told me something was troubling him.

"I'm sorry, I know this isn't our usual day," he said. I couldn't help but notice a slight strangle to his voice. "I just- I just needed to see you."

My heart thudding anxiously, I stood back from the door, allowing him inside.

"Draco, what-?"

But he cut me off as he reached out and roughly pulled me against him. He kissed me hard as he kicked the door shut behind him. Grabbing my waist, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom where he tore off my clothes and kissed every inch of me. He fucked me like it was the first and last time.

"What was that about?" I asked breathlessly after he rolled off me and collapsed panting and sweating onto the mattress.

"I just wanted to see you," he answered, once again refusing to meet my eye.

He pulled me to him, cocooning his body around mine, burying his face in my hair. I could tell something wasn't right. There was something he wasn't telling me; something in his eyes.

But I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping coldly around my heart and instead, fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning I woke up and he was gone.

A single piece of paper lay on the pillow. Two words were scribbled in Draco's scrawl. Two words which made my heart break into a million pieces.

I'm sorry.

It was over twelve years until I saw him again.

*****

Two months later, when the post Owl drops the Daily Prophet through my window, I finally find out why.

There, on the front page, is Draco; standing proudly next to a beaming Astoria, his arm wrapped securely round her waist.

And, as I read the words beneath, this time my heartbreak feels different, it is cold and unexpected, like concrete drying in my chest, turning to stone.

A New Malfoy Heir
The dashing Draco Malfoy, 25 and his stunning young wife have announced the happy news of their upcoming bundle of joy. Astoria Malfoy, 23 is due to give birth to the Malfoy heir in February of 2006. "My husband and I feel completely blessed by this beautiful miracle," Astoria speaks exclusively to the Daily Prophet. "It is no secret to our close family and friends that Draco and I have been trying for some time now. The pressure was certainly beginning to cause a strain on our marriage, but in the end, we found the secret was to spend a little time apart, the absence eventually bringing us closer together and enabling us to create life with our newfound love for one another." With Hermione Granger-Weasley, 25 and husband, Ron Weasley, 25 announcing their pregnancy only last month too, there certainly seems to be a little 'magic' in the air of late!

I look down at my own protruding stomach.

And I vowed there and then that he would never know.

***

1st September, 2017
(Present Day)

As I stare back up at Draco's questioning face, I know it is time to put past hurts aside and finally tell the truth.

Bracing myself, I release the long, shaky breath I do not even realise I have been holding on to.

"Yes, Draco. Albus is your son."

***