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Draco came to her on a drizzly Tuesday morning in June.
"Granger?"
"Mmm?" she responded, half-paying attention as she sorted through her files for the day. Where had she left that folder? She had a big case coming up before the Wizengamot tomorrow and she couldn't afford—
That was when she saw Draco's face.
"What is it?" she asked, her stomach sinking to her knees. "What's wrong?"
Draco took a deep breath. "Scorpius is turning ten in a couple of weeks."
Oh. Was that all? She knew Draco had been lamenting the bittersweet experience of watching their son enter his adolescence, but it was no real cause for concern. Hermione broke out in a relieved smile.
"Yes, I know! I've already made the arrangements with your mother, she's even offered to pick up my parents when they arrive from Perth—"
"Hermione."
She looked back up at Draco and the smile fell off her face. For the first time in known memory, he looked close to tears.
"You know what this is about," he said in a raspy voice. "You can't ignore it any longer."
Icy cold tendrils snaked their way around her heart, freezing it in her chest and stalling the breath in her lungs. Her throat tightened and her gut twisted uncomfortably. Draco knew better than to bring this up.
"There's still plenty of time," Hermione snapped at him, closing a folder on her desk with a sharp crack. "A whole year. He will get his Hogwarts letter next summer, just like you and I did. Stop rushing him."
Draco wore a pained expression, a mix between exasperation and pity.
"You're right,” he said finally. “There's still time, but you and I can't ignore it any longer. We need to make preparations."
Hermione remained silent, her jaw set and her eyes pricking with tears.
"I've considered moving us into a Muggle suburb," Draco continued. "Like we discussed a few years ago. Scorp would have to change primary schools, but you know how easily he makes friends... he'd likely adjust before starting secondary next year." Draco gave a small cough. "The thing is, he'd always know what he's missing out on."
As much as she hated to admit it, it was true. If they’d moved years ago, they maybe could have lived a normal life. They’d discussed the possibility often in the beginning, back when the now-looming certainty about Scorpius hadn’t been nearly as probable, but in the end, it had seemed too great a secret to keep.
"So what do you suggest instead," Hermione said through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his eyes. Gentle fingers cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him.
Draco spoke softly. "I've been working on something. Ever since we started having doubts about his abilities."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Top secret or not, Draco always discussed his work in the Department of Mysteries with her.
"Yes, I know, the project examining the genetic anomalies of magic users and their magical cores. But I don't see how that's going to help Scorpius if there's nothing to—" She choked, unable to finish the thought.
Draco sighed, his breath fanning over her face as he swept a thumb across her cheek to catch a tear she hadn’t noticed falling.
"I didn't tell you everything. I didn't want to give you false hope, but I'm certain now. There's a way..." he swallowed hard, "...a way to give him magic."
Her jaw dropped.
"But that's... that's impossible," she breathed, unwilling to let herself believe it. "You've said so yourself, gene therapy isn't enough..."
"No, it's not," he agreed. "But a transplant, on the other hand..."
Her breath caught. "You mean..."
He nodded once. "Yes. I can instil my magic into Scorpius."
Hope blossomed against her will. "Draco, that's... that's wonderful! Is it tested? Is it safe?"
He nodded again, not seeming quite as ecstatic as she felt the occasion warranted. Hermione studied Draco's expression further, noting the tightness of his eyes.
"What's the catch?"
Draco cleared his throat. "I'm his closest genetic match, and... it can't be done halfway. A complete transfer. I will lose my magic."
There were fifteen heartbeats of absolute silence as Hermione processed that information.
Drawing a deep breath, she let go of the last shreds of hope holding her hostage. It was too much to ask.
"Oh," was all she could think to say. "Well, at least you tried—"
"I'm doing it."
She bit her lip, hot tears now spilling freely down her cheeks. “What if I—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head. “It has to be me.”
She watched him carefully, looking for signs of hesitation. Did he realise what this meant? What it would make him?
"I'm sure," Draco said before she could ask. "I’ve thought it through for a long, long time. There was never a doubt in my mind."
"Scorpius may not want you to do it," she finally offered in a shaky voice.
"Scorpius doesn't need to know right now," Draco replied firmly. "He'll be off at Hogwarts for a majority of the next seven years, then he'll be starting out on his own. Let me give this to him, Hermione. Let me give this to my son."
A sob caught in her throat. Hermione collapsed into her husband's arms — her wonderful, selfless, courageous husband who never thought that anything was enough to make amends for the crimes of his youth — and grieved the choice he'd had to make. And loved him all the more for it.
"Will you teach me to be a Muggle?" he asked sometime later, long after she was supposed to have left for work. It startled a watery chuckle out of her.
"Of course I will," she said, leaning back and cupping his face in her hands to caress his own tear-stained cheeks. "Of course I will."
Smiling weakly through her tears, she added, “And you’ll still be able to fly.”
He drew her back to him tightly, huffing out a laugh against the top of her hair.
— One Year Later —
"Mum! Dad! It's here!"
Footsteps pounded down the stairs and into the tidy little kitchen.
"Look!" said Scorpius, breathless with excitement, his brown hair dishevelled and his silver eyes wide. He shoved an envelope bearing the Hogwarts insignia into Hermione's hands. "It came! Just like you said it would!"
Hermione held tightly to the thick letter in her hands, proof of what she’d already known.
Draco smiled hugely at his son, dusting his hands on his apron. "Of course it did! You've managed to both shatter your grandmother’s favourite vase and set fire to your maths exam in the past week alone. How could it not?"
"Another cake?" Scorpius suddenly asked instead, eyeing his father's attire and wrinkling his nose. "Since when did you and mum start baking so much anyway? Is it because you’re bored after retiring from the Ministry?"
Draco just laughed, steering his son to the table with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Scorp, this one's better. I promise."
Scorpius looked to Hermione — who may or may not have interfered just a little bit — and she winked back at him. He immediately brightened, snatching up a fork to dig in. Draco beamed with pride as Scorpius wolfed down a blackberry sponge cake (his very favourite flavour); it was a long-awaited occasion, after all.
Hermione busied herself with the kettle, sneaking sidelong glances at Draco and Scorpius sitting side-by-side, satisfying their generational sweet tooth. Suddenly overcome with emotion, Hermione paused to commit this to memory.
"Dad?" Scorpius suddenly asked, looking up hesitantly at his father between bites.
"Yes?"
Scorpius paused, furrowing his brow in the exact manner Hermione knew hers always did when she was working through a problem.
He took a deep breath. "I think it was good that we decided to wait and let my magic come on its own. You know, instead of trying to force it?"
Hermione raised her brows in surprise. Scorpius had tried not to let on, but she knew his late-blooming magical abilities had worried him just as much as it had worried his parents over the last several years.
Kettle forgotten, she turned to him.
"You do?"
"Uh huh," Scorpius replied seriously. "It's kinda hard to explain, and I know it's going to sound silly, but whenever I use it — by accident, of course! — it feels… sort of happy.”
He looked down quickly, his cheeks heating with embarrassment.
Hermione traded a look with Draco.
"Your magic does? Feels happy?" Draco asked, watching his son carefully.
Scorpius nodded without looking up.
"I told you it was silly,” he said quietly. “And maybe happy isn't the right word, but sometimes it feels... it feels like it loves me," he mumbled in a rush.
Draco froze.
Hermione’s breath caught in her chest. Eyes suddenly misty, she looked back and forth between her husband and son. Was it possible…?
Speechless, she watched as Draco abruptly gathered Scorpius into his arms. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
"That’s not silly at all,” Draco assured him, exchanging a tender look with Hermione overtop of a bewildered Scorpius’s head. “It does love you, son. It really does."