Catch and Release

One day, it just came to her. She was sitting across from Padma staring into space. They rarely sent pregnant witches out into the field and Hermione was even more bored than usual as a result. Unfortunately, she had not yet thought of the task that would finally motivate her to leave the Ministry and as long as she had a daughter to support, she needed the paycheck her current job provided.

That slow afternoon, it fairly clubbed her over the head. She stood up so suddenly that her chair fell backwards with a crash. Padma jumped and then cursed because she had dripped ink all over the document she was writing.

“Prison reform!” Hermione exclaimed.

“What?” Padma replied crossly.

“Prison reform! That’s my way in!” She palmed herself in the forehead. “I can’t believe it took me this long to think of it!”

“Your way into what?”

“My way to him.”

Padma didn’t have to ask who he was. “I’m not following, Hermione.”

“If I start making noise about prison reform, I know I could get grants...permits...access...and it needs to be done anyway! Muggles can’t claim to do many things better than wizards, but Muggle prisons are definitely more humane.”

“Anything is more humane than Azkaban,” Padma agreed. “But we’re not dealing with the same kind of criminal.”

“No, but some of the Muggle programs and ideas have merit. I think it’s worth a try.”

Padma looked at her office mate and thought about whether or not there was a point in trying to talk her out of it. Once Hermione got it in her mind to do something, there was no stopping her. This relationship with Lucius was just another example of that. She had said that she was going to catch him, and by Merlin, she did - just not entirely in the way she had intended. And now, no silly sentence handed down by the Wizengamot would stand in her way. She was a force of nature when she wanted to be.

At last, Padma settled for saying, “Well, if anyone can make it work, it’s you, Hermione.”

The curly haired witch flung herself across the room to embrace Padma. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get anything else done today, but that was all right. Padma knew she had to enjoy this time with Hermione while she could. Soon she would move on and there was no guarantee that Padma would ever find another office mate and friend as wonderful as Hermione. In fact, it was bloody unlikely since there was no one else in the world quite like her.

“Now,” Hermione said a minute later, full of frenzied inspiration, “now I have to plan!”


It was easier than she would have hoped. All she had to do was convince the new Minister, who was somewhat dazzled by her presence, that she would do all his work for him on the nagging issue of Azkaban. He was young and seemed relieved at the prospect of being able to cross one glaring item off his list of things to do.

Her reputation did the rest. She got the permits she wanted, the funding she wanted, and the freedom to pursue all reasonable options as long as she ran it by the Minister before implementation. Hermione was a little dazed at the speed of it; it was the first time she had ever used her considerable influence to get what she wanted and she could honestly say that she understood the old Lucius a little bit more.

To top it off, she didn’t even have to leave the Ministry. They simply created a new position for her. She could still share an office with Padma on the rare days that she was actually there. Hermione continued to be a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, only now she had defined her own position and called all the shots. That felt a lot more like her, and each time she spoke with a prisoner, current or former, the passion within her began to build. Not just for Lucius, but for everyone who had spent time in that horrid prison designed only to contain, not to rehabilitate, enrich, or change...

And the theory was interesting! Few things overjoyed her like good research could, and it had been so long since anything related to her job had piqued her interest. She spent long hours reading studies on criminology, sociology, effectiveness of incarceration, and alternative options.

It was too easy for the wizarding world to put their prisoners in Azkaban or Nurmengard and forget about them. Neither were anywhere near a residential area and security really was very good in spite of the rash of breakouts during the last war. The wizarding populace didn’t even have to pay for the prisoners; House Elves prepared their food for free and Dementors didn’t require paychecks.

Imprisonment bore no financial strain on people, but the inhumanity of the current system should have shamed them. There was no sense in sending mad people somewhere to go madder. And for criminals who had just had that one moment of stupidity, it was highly unlikely that Azkaban would improve them. Prisoners were still people and she was determined to make people realize that.

It was just that much sweeter that Lucius was now at the top of her list, and no longer out of reach.




The elevator door opened and Draco paused. Its sole occupant was someone he was not eager to share an elevator with again. She glanced up, wondering why people weren’t getting on, and then she gave him an annoyed look.

“Get on, Malfoy, I’m not going to assault you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes. Now what floor do you want?”

“Two, please.” He stepped on, eyeing her. That was when he registered something interesting. She was wearing a dark, loose-fitting, yet still fashionable dress – the kind women wore to hide the early stages of pregnancy. He was certain that Astoria owned the same dress.

Obnoxiously, he decided to ask about it. “Bun in the oven, Granger?”

“Your eyes work. Good for you.”

“Did you reconcile with Weasley?”

She snorted. “No.”

“Well, then you have my congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she replied sarcastically. “Listen, Malfoy, I’ve been working on a prison reform project. I’d love to be able to interview your father and get his input. I have a special permit from the Minister to talk to whatever current or former prisoners I want. Mind passing the request on to him?” She cocked her head. “It would be good press for all of us.”

“I’ll let him know.” The elevator chimed, signaling his floor. “Expect an owl.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Draco gave her a lopsided smile, and then he was gone.


Visits with his father had become much more comfortable in the last few months. Draco was beginning to see how the real world had changed the other man. At times, he seemed almost foreign. Not ten minutes before, he’d seen a handwritten note on Lucius’s dinner tray; he assumed it was a scolding for the House Elves. However, upon reading, it was actually culinary advice for the lead chef, and by the familiarity of the note, Draco could only conclude that his father had been trading tips with the elf for some time. Perhaps that accounted for the notable increase in variety and quality of the food in the last few weeks. He could barely believe it.

More than anything, he was in awe of how patient Lucius was. Before, he had only been patient when he knew he would get what he wanted. Now he was so easygoing, so willing to compromise, to wait, to negotiate...to help. He weathered Draco’s continued resistance about the children meeting him without a trace of the resentment he surely felt about it and he threw himself diligently into the management of Astoria’s accounts with more fervor than a paid employee would have.

Draco was almost convinced by it all. However, there was still a part of him that remembered those rare bouts of patience his father was capable of in the past. It was the patience of the Devil waiting for a sin to percolate. No doubt Lucius knew that his good behavior would eventually be rewarded. More than anything, Draco feared that all of it would disappear once he got what he wanted.

He knew that it wasn’t fair. He knew he was punishing his father for being a decent person, for giving him what he wanted, but this man was just too different for him to handle sometimes. It was like one man had broken out of Azkaban and another had returned to take his place. What if this man really wasn’t his father? Strange things were possible with magic, and the money that was synonymous with the Malfoy name was still coveted...

Discomfited by his thoughts, Draco rose from his chair and made to leave.

“Oh,” he said as he was walking out the door, “I almost forgot. Of all people, Hermione Granger wants to interview you for her prison reform campaign. She has special permission from the Minister. Do you mind?”




Draco was distant tonight, with a faint shadow of trouble causing a crease between his brows. It was odd to see age settling slowly onto his son’s face. The Draco he remembered was so young - fragile, almost - and this man was not fragile. His shoulders were strong enough to hold up his many responsibilities.

He was about to ask what was troubling Draco when the man in question stood up and made to leave. He bit back the feelings of disappointment and rejection. Lucius didn’t understand why his son was like this, so hot and cold, one moment friendly and the next dismissing him like a beggar on the street. But judging from his demeanor, Draco didn’t understand his feelings, either. Lucius knew what that was like and so he forgave him.

When he registered his son’s parting words, he thought perhaps he was hallucinating. Lucius blinked. Did he mind? His heart practically burst out of his chest at the mere thought of being able to see Hermione! It took everything he had to compose himself and say in a disaffected manner, “No, I suppose I can indulge her.”


Words could not describe how difficult it was to restrain himself from demanding to know when Hermione would be coming to see him. That behavior would only lead to a lot of uncomfortable questions. So Lucius bit his tongue, sometimes so hard that it bled, and waited for Draco to let him know when he could expect her.

He wondered if she would be different, or if it would be like no time had gone by at all. Some relationships had that timeless quality. Since they had become a couple, they had never been apart for more than five days. It had been nearly three months since that last stolen moment in the courtroom corridor, and two months before that. Was it possible for nothing to change in all those days and hours and minutes?

Lucius knew he was driving himself insane. Each day felt like an eternity now. He couldn’t keep his attention on Astoria’s finances and he didn’t even hear the Wireless. He forgot to eat, to the point that Morley, the head chef, fell into complete despair because he thought Lucius didn’t like his attempts at new dishes. House Elves never believed that a person just wasn’t hungry.

He even had trouble sleeping at night. He would think of her, of the many nights they’d spent side by side, sometimes still, more often not, and he would grow hard and restless. Instead of tiring him out, the ensuing self-pleasure would only wake him up more. He not only had to bear the shame of feeling like a fifteen year old, but also the frustration of never really feeling satisfied; his hand was no substitute for Hermione.

Lucius prayed that Draco would leave Hermione alone with him. The game of look but don’t touch would be impossible. He needed her like he needed water...like he needed his own heart to beat. So many feelings were tied up in her.

Two weeks after Draco’s initial inquiry, he could control himself no longer. When Draco stopped in to see how he was, Lucius asked as casually as he could about the proposed meeting.

“What’s going on with the meeting with the Granger girl?”

Draco looked mildly surprised at the question, but shrugged. “We’ve been owling back and forth to try to agree upon a time. I want to make sure I’m here and work has been awful. There aren’t enough hours in the day...” he sighed.

“We’re adults, Draco. We don’t need a babysitter.”

His son gave him an odd look.

“What I mean to say is - well, I am capable of behaving myself, as I believe I’ve proven to you, and she’s an adult as well. Any past ugliness is buried. It will be purely professional.” Ha, as professional as mad shagging can get...

Draco stared at him for a long moment. “I guess you’re right,” he said at last. “I was thinking of myself. I still get into fights with her. It’s like I can’t help it...old habits. She’s just so...” his face crunched up in distaste.

“Some people aren’t meant to get along.” A faint smile touched Lucius’s lips. “She probably feels the same way about you.”

“I know she feels the same way about me.” Draco appeared thoughtful. “I’d still like Astoria to be here just in case, but she’s not going to work in the store as much, so it will be a little easier to arrange a time. Do you have a preference?”

“No. Any time is fine.” Hell, Hermione could come at four in the morning and it would make no difference to him. He just needed to see her, to hear her voice, touch her silken, fragrant skin...

Lucius closed his eyes to fend off the desperate anxiety that gripped him. It was frightening to need someone so much, yet so elating that he might finally see her. What a mess he was. Instinctively, though, he knew she would make it better. She always did.


Draco had been both obtuse and difficult in his letters, never giving her a straight answer. Hermione was ready to throttle him. She was trying to do him a damned favor and here he was dragging his feet! He seemed determined to do whatever he knew would most infuriate her. He had always been like that.

However, she knew that much of her impatience had to do with the excitement she felt about finally seeing Lucius. Excitement with an undercurrent of dread...

In her way, Hermione went so far as to compile some articles and excerpts from books that supported her theory. She firmly believed that ancient, earthly magic summoned by their lovemaking had made it possible for her to become pregnant. She wanted to think that Lucius would accept that. However, now she knew him well enough to understand how deep and complex his emotions were.

He had been wounded by many things during the war, one of the worst of which was his sterilization. Seeing her pregnant would reopen that wound. Lucius was a confident man, but he was also vulnerable. He would have trouble accepting her explanation. That was if he accepted it at all...

Hermione closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. He would have to. She wasn’t going to let his stubbornness and disbelief ruin what they had. Even if he never believed the baby was his, they were going to be together. Though, she wouldn’t rule out a paternity test if that was what he needed.

Another thought suddenly cropped up to trouble her. What if he didn’t want more children? What if the thought of fatherhood was abhorrent after the way his only son had treated him? Well, he’d just have to get over that, too.

Hermione loved Rose, loved her to bits, but she had always wanted another baby. Growing up, she hated not having siblings like her friends at school; since the moment she became old enough to consider children of her own, she vowed that she wouldn’t have an only child. Rose would love having a baby brother or sister. When she was younger, she had written in a letter to Father Christmas begging for one.

She hadn’t told her daughter about the pregnancy. When Rose returned home for Christmas, she’d figure out that Mummy wasn’t just getting fat. Hermione hoped she would be overjoyed. But what to tell her if she asked about the father? She chewed her lip. She hadn’t got that far yet.

Lucius was the first hurdle. She had to get past him before worrying about anyone else. Sighing, she resumed her response to Draco’s latest letter. She detected a slight relaxing of his insistence that the meeting fit into his schedule even though she had no interest in including him. Perhaps all she had to do was back him into a corner...

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione put her ultimatum down on paper.

I’m available this Tuesday at 11 am. After that, my appointment calendar is booked and it won’t be possible for me to meet with your father. Your option is to make this appointment work or to not have one. I’ve tried to accommodate you but I should have realized that was impossible.

Frowning, Hermione spelled the last two sentences away. That was what she really wanted to say to Draco, but she had to be careful. He could just as easily tell her to go to hell.

I’m available this Tuesday at 11 am. After that, my appointment calendar is booked and it won’t be possible for me to meet with your father. I think his input would be invaluable to my project so I would very much appreciate if you could find a way to make this work. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, Draco, but please think of the time you were forced to spend in Azkaban. Do you really want anyone to have to go through that anymore if they don’t deserve it?


Draco sighed and put down Granger’s letter. Damn that woman. She was very much like Astoria, actually, and knew just how to appeal to his carefully hidden sense of decency.

Irritably, he grabbed his quill and scribbled a rude response.

Fine, you pushy bitch.

Smirking, he crumpled the parchment into a ball and reached for a new sheet.

I apologize for the scheduling difficulties. You are welcome to come to the Manor at 11 on Tuesday. My wife Astoria will be here to show you to my father. How long do you think it will take? There’s no limit, of course, but I’d just like to know so that we can plan accordingly.


Merlin, he was nervous. He couldn’t sleep. His heart throbbed in his chest like some kind of radar, the signal growing stronger the nearer she got. It would be the first time he’d see her in months and he would look a mess.

He felt like a mess when he finished getting ready a little before ten. There were circles under his eyes, his hair did not seem to want to obey him, and he was sweating. Lucius winced. Heaven help him, she would arrive and wonder what she had ever seen in him.

He tried to calm down. He knew she hadn’t been drawn to him because of his looks. They were, of course, substantially good, but Hermione saw past superficial things. That was the only reason she’d been able to transition from seeing him as a foe to seeing him as a person. If he knew her, she’d probably find his flustered state amusing and endearing.

Astoria stepped in to ask him if he was going to be okay if she left him alone with Ms. Granger. Lucius told her he would be. She accepted that, but left him a small emergency device to use if something went wrong.

He liked Astoria more and more with each time he interacted with her; she saw more good in the world than Draco did, but not so much that it blinded her to reality. If there was a Slytherin equivalent to Hermione, Draco had found her. Lucius could only pray that Astoria would continue to advocate for him. He could tell that she wasn’t as reticent as her husband to allow him access to the children.

But all that aside, it was 10:54. His heart was racing. At this rate, he would die of cardiac arrest before she arrived. The thought put a small smile on his face; Lucius sat and attempted to make himself appear calm even though he felt anything but.

His effort was pointless. He shot out of his chair so fast when the door clicked open that he nearly fell. He was too excited to even bother with embarrassment.

It was all worth it when he saw her. She was...God, she was beautiful. Her face was so radiant, her curls a heavy halo around her shoulders. He dress showed a hint of her lovely collar bones. And her figure...it was lusher than he remembered. Had it really been so long that he forgot the lines of her body?

No. No, something was different. The dress, black and artfully cut, went a long way in hiding it, but...

His blood went cold.

She was pregnant.


As Astoria excused herself, Hermione could see the change that came over Lucius’s face. He had done well to control his elation at seeing her. However, she could see it because she knew to look for it. It drained away in one awful second when he realized what had changed.

His eyes filled with hurt. Then he swallowed, quickly disguising that brief flash of agony.

“Hermione,” he said in a shaken voice. “It’s...good to see you.”

“It’s more than good to see you,” she replied, trying to project love and confidence. If she showed worry or shame in front of him, he would assume there was something for her to feel guilty about. Boldly, Hermione stepped forward to embrace him.

He was rigid in her arms. Lucius endured the contact for a long moment, but then he had to step away. She could see that he was trying to formulate words. At last, he abandoned the attempt and simply looked at her, desolation and heartbreak all over his face.

Oh dear. She had to do something, and do it fast. Hermione had hoped that he wouldn’t notice right away. But this was Lucius; he noticed everything. It was just his way.

“It’s yours,” she said, looking straight into his eyes.


Betrayal jabbed him wickedly in the gut. His? His? He resisted the potent anger that was rising in him. He could understand if she’d moved on, found someone new while he was locked away from the world, but to try to lie to him...

It was unforgivable.

“How...how gullible do you think I am?” he hissed out between his teeth.

“Lucius--”

But the anger was snowballing and his hands began to shake. “I told you my worst secret, the most shameful moment of my life, and you have the nerve to come here and throw it in my face with this lie?”

“I’m not lying.” She was too calm. He wanted her to scream at him, to rail at the accusations, but she was the picture of control. “I know you believe that Voldemort sterilized you, but I’m living proof that he didn’t succeed.”

“I went to a bloody healer! A fertility specialist! She confirmed it!”

“And if you went again now, she would confirm that it’s been reversed. Lucius, I am telling you with absolute honesty that there hasn’t been anyone else. This baby is yours. I’m twenty-two weeks along. Do the math.”

“I can add,” he said coldly. “And that just makes it worse. It means you were with someone else before I even turned myself in.” His jaw clenched. “Is that why you gave me that picture? To get rid of me?”


Hermione stared at him, worry burgeoning in her chest. He was not taking this well at all. Swallowing, she moved on to her next tactic. She dug in her bag and produced the books that supported her theory.

“Look, Lucius. I went to the Library at Alexandria to research it. It’s possible. The ancient magic of the Earth outclasses Voldemort any day.” She held the books and papers out to him beseechingly. “Please, if you love me, please look at these and try to calm down.”

God, she was killing him.

“Of course I love you!” And now he was shouting. “I love you so much that I want to believe you!”

“Then just believe me,” she replied. “It took a leap of faith for us to find each other, Lucius. You trusted it then. Trust it now.”

His heart felt like it was imploding. Why would she do this to him? Why? He couldn’t fathom it. Nor could he fathom how the torturous spells Voldemort had used on him could be reversed. The healer had exhausted every available option for a cure. If there had been one, shouldn’t she have known?

But he knew in the back of his mind that every spell, potion, and incantation was not published in a book. His own library was proof enough of that. But this...it was his body. He had what he had, and when it was lost...

She was vehement. Would she push him so hard if she was only trying to hurt him, to fool him? Lucius licked his lips. What harm would it do? If she was betraying him, the damage was already done. He could always find his own way to confirm the child’s paternity. One note to Morley and he could have Veritaserum in her tea...

Lucius retreated and sat down on the edge of his bed. Hermione followed. He looked at his feet for a long time, but at last he was able to raise his head and meet her eyes.

“All right. I’ll read them.”


She left him alone for a long while, retreating to his small library. Hermione couldn’t concentrate on anything. Her mind and her heart raced with a never-ending prayer that he would believe her. She knew she should have been angry at the fact that he didn’t immediately trust her, but she also knew that trust wasn’t easy for a man like him, and the object of that trust was very painful.

Instinctively, she knew it was a good sign that he even agreed to give her evidence a chance. It would have been easy for him to get carried away by his anger and feelings of betrayal. People didn’t think clearly in situations like this one and they almost always did things they would later regret. At least he hadn’t slammed the door in her face.

She rested her hand on the growing curve of her belly. She wanted him to be there to know his son or daughter. Hermione would do it all alone if she had to; she was no stranger to the world of a single parent, but she wanted so badly for them to be able to share the joy of having a child together. She wanted to see him in those moments of fatherhood that had always made her heart melt for Ron.

The three years after Rose’s birth had been the best of her life. She was utterly, recklessly in love with Ron and their life together with Rose. Everything was so perfect. Though she thought of it often, Hermione couldn’t pinpoint a time where things had changed. Circumstance and maturity had just pushed them apart with slow, meticulous hands, and by the time she understood what was happening, it was too late.

She knew she played her own part in the dissolution of their relationship. It wasn’t all Ron’s fault. In spite of the rancor between them, he continued to be a good father to Rose, and that was all she really cared about.

Hermione was certain that she could capture that feeling of delirious happiness she’d once felt with Ron and Rose if she could just get Lucius on board. She had already felt tremendously carefree with him during those long weekends on the boat. He made life feel so simple, so straightforward, when in reality it was anything but. No, raising a baby with him wouldn’t be easy, especially back in the spotlight of the wizarding world, but this time around she knew what to watch out for. She would not let them fall apart.

She couldn’t.


It was hard to still his mind enough to comprehend what he was reading. He remembered very clearly the day of Draco’s birth, when he had paced the St. Mungo’s waiting room like a caged animal. Someone had given him a copy of the Prophet to read in order to occupy his mind. He read the whole thing, but could not have repeated a single detail if his life depended on it.

This was exactly the same. The sentences bled together; he barely noticed when he skipped one, tracked to the wrong line, or read the same one twice. How was a person supposed to focus at a time like this?

He gave up quickly. The words weren’t penetrating his emotions. He would have to read them at another time, when he didn’t know that Hermione was sitting in the next room anxiously waiting for him. When he didn’t know that the woman he loved more than anything, even after this nasty shock, was on the other side of the wall.


She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice his quiet entrance. She did, however, notice the warmth of his hand as it tucked beneath her jaw and tilted her face up toward him. Hermione stared into his eyes, unbearably tense even though she knew he wouldn’t be using this kind of tenderness if he was going to reject her.

He held her glance for a long moment. Then he eased down onto his knees before the chair, erasing his height advantage. Hermione’s heart leapt; she wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

The next heartbeat gave an answer. He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly, almost shyly, against hers. Tears welled in her eyes as she threw her arms about his shoulders and pulled him against her. It felt so good to have him there, to experience his scent filling her senses.

Slowly, as she kissed his neck and jaw and ear, his arms wound around her. She could feel the slight hesitation in him. Like this, he was embracing the baby as much as he was embracing her, and it was still so raw and new. She would have to give him time.

He had just brought his lips to hers for a more thorough kiss when there was a knock at the door. They both jumped and then quickly pulled apart, like teenagers caught kissing by a parent.

“It’s Astoria,” he murmured. “I suppose our time is up.”

Hermione let out a little groan of frustration. The hour had gone by so fast! Lucius helped her out of the chair and guided her towards the main room.

“Tell her that we didn’t get to everything you wanted to discuss. Ask her if you can come back in a few days. She’ll be more open to it than Draco,” he whispered in her ear before striding over to the door to let Astoria in.

Hermione had done what he suggested and rescheduled with Astoria. She found the other witch to be quite reasonable, which was a surprise considering who she was married to. Perhaps she had to be that way in order to deal with Draco.

“I’m sorry I had to interrupt,” Astoria said as she was showing Hermione out. “I have to go work a few hours at the store for my sister and we don’t like to leave Lucius unsupervised with visitors.”

Hermione turned to the blonde, a spike of anger rising in her. Did they really still think the worst of him?

“I doubt that he would try to do anything.” She wanted to say much more than that, but it was best to hold her tongue.

Astoria gave her a sharp look. “It’s not for your protection. It’s for his.”


She took her leave from Astoria, dazed and churning with adrenaline. She hated to walk away from the Manor. There was so much more that she needed to say and do. Lucius had taken the first step toward acceptance, but she knew that he remained deeply troubled and would be all alone in his turmoil. Without her there, there was the chance that he would fall back into anger and doubt.

Hermione bit her lip and walked to the Apparition point. There was nothing she could do right now. Their emotions would just have to remain in holding for a few more days, and then they would have more time to wade through them. And hopefully, time would bring healing and peace.


He watched her as she disappeared down the winding lane. Even from a distance he longed to twine his hand into her hair. The wind pushed it about, mocking him.

Lucius stood at the window for a long time. Two prospects stretched before him, each as terrifying as the other. Either she had betrayed him and was doing the cruelest thing a person could do, or she really was pregnant with his child, and he couldn’t even enjoy what they’d created together.

It was painful to think about. It hurt because even if the baby wasn’t his, he still loved her. He was that pathetic and he hated himself for it.

It hurt because if the baby was his, he would have to be an absentee father for nearly two years. There was no way to keep their relationship quiet and afford him the privilege of fatherhood at the same time. He would miss everything...his child wouldn’t even know him.

It would be just like the life he led now, staring at his grandchildren from afar, catching only the briefest of glimpses of their lives. He knew nothing about them. Yes, he knew their names, their birthdays, whatever little details Draco imparted upon him, but he didn’t know them. It wasn’t enough, and it would only hurt more to feel that way about his own child.

If he had known...oh, if only he had known the way things would turn out. But there was no reset button on life, so he would just have to exist here and reap what he had sown. At last, Lucius left the window and settled in to read.