55For Trinkisme and all those who know that they'll do anything for the people they love.
Everything
"What would you give to save her? What would you exchange for her life?"
The voice curled through his mind and his alone while the others watched him.
With a cursed knife to her throat and her blood soaking the wood beneath their feet, there was only one answer.
"Everything."
"Shit," Draco cursed. He drew his hand away from the pan on the stove and shook it. He stuck his burned fingertips in his mouth and sucked at the sting.
A muffled laugh made him turn and glare. She was biting her lip and trying desperately not to smile.
"Give me your hand, Draco."
His lip curled but he did as she said and stuck his hand out. He watched as she waved her wand over his seared skin. A bit of longing pulled at his chest as he watched the motion but he ignored it.
Hermione stowed her wand before she lifted on her toes to kiss him. "I'll be home early."
He ran his tongue over his lower lip where the taste of her gloss still lingered. Seventeen years was a long time but she looked much the same as she did at eighteen. Sure, her curves had matured and a few new freckles had appeared across her nose and cheeks. But she was the same.
Draco nodded. "The list came in the post this morning. Everything she'll need for Hogwarts. Thank Merlin for it, too. They've changed the cauldron size required since we were there."
Hermione smiled but was tinged with a bit of pain. She cupped his face in her hands and lifted on her toes again. He fell into the kiss as he always did. She was the reason he did everything. The entire reason he traded his magic in exchange for her life.
When Voldemort had siphoned his magic, no one knew what that would mean. No historical records existed of a witch or wizard voluntarily trading their magic. The healers predicted he'd live just as long as anyone else with magic but he'd lost all ability to control a wand. The guilt that came when Hermione stood by his side after the war nearly tore them apart. It came to him less now but when it did, she'd find him in their study with a glass of scotch. His old wand, empty and broken in half would lay on the desk taunting him.
He was the equivalent of a squib, knowledge some took great pleasure in. The romantics saw him as a hero. After all it had been his love for her that made him do it. Not unlike Lily Potter saving her only son who went on to save them all.
It was a relief when Lyra showed signs of magic and then Leo, too.
Draco stepped back when she fell back on her heels and offered her a smile. She needed more encouragement than him sometimes. Her own guilt kept his in check most of the time. He'd traded his magic once and if he was asked, he'd do it again. Anything and everything for her.
"I'll get the kids to school. I know they're excited since it's the last day before their summer break. You need to get to the Ministry. The DMLE isn't going to regulate itself."
There was something in her smile though, the way the edges didn't quite meet her eyes that told him he'd let her see too much of his grief already today.
She turned though and disappeared down the hall. The roar of the floo was the last he heard of her.
Draco had learned to drive after their first year of dating. Her father had suggested it since he couldn't apparate or floo without her. It was her mother that had been patient enough to teach him though.
He'd never forget Hermione's laughter.
"Dad tried to teach me but mum is more patient. They argued that being able to drive was just as valuable information as me teaching myself physics."
His brilliant witch. If anyone at Hogwarts had known she taught herself muggle subjects over much of their summers off they would have given up trying to compete with her.
He was drying dishes, his eyes tracking the chat on his laptop when he heard the crack of her apparating. Two children burst through the back door, their school bags falling to the floor as they each raced through their townhouse to find him.
His mother had willed him the hardly used home as well as his inheritance from the Black family. It hadn't been necessary. Though Lucius Malfoy rarely spoke to his son, whether for his own shame or disgust, no one truly knew, but he'd not cut Draco off from his inheritance from the Malfoy side either. Therefore, the Granger-Malfoys were perfectly fine, thank you very much.
"Leo, take out the rubbish. Lyra, the recycling," he directed without even looking away from his computer.
"Bloody hell," Leo grumbled but did as his father said.
"Language," Hermione reminded him as she entered the kitchen. "I swear, he's been around Ron too much."
Draco snorted and spared her a glance and a kiss when she approached. "You know how I feel about Weasley and his lack of manners."
Hermione chose not to respond to that and instead glanced at his laptop. "Busy day?"
"Quite. You'll never believe who is searching for real estate in a muggle neighborhood."
Her eyes widened considerably. "I'm almost scared to ask. Who?"
Draco smirked at her. "Pansy Parkinson."
She'd just reached for a sip from the water glass he'd left on the counter and nearly choked. "I'm sorry? Did you just say Pansy Parkinson? The same Pansy Parkinson that took great pleasure in talking behind your back after the war?"
"One and the same. She contacted me to help her navigate the process with a muggle real estate agent. I put her in contact with Mark Little. He's patient and he'll want her commission. Plus, he's worked with other witches and wizards I've connected him with before."
She shook her head and he watched a few curls escape the chignon she'd secured that morning. "I don't know that I even want to be privy to the reason why the likes of Pansy Parkinson is interested in living amongst muggles. Please ask Mark not to show her property near us, please."
Draco snickered and finally lost his battle at resisting the urge to tuck those loose curls behind her ear. "I don't ask questions, love. I just take their money."
Giving up his magic for her caused a multitude of issues when it came to his future job prospects. He technically could have lived in the inherited townhouse forever and not have worked if he played his galleons right but he knew a witch like her would expect better. It was Harry Potter who'd given him the idea to act as act as a business liaison between the wizarding and muggle communities, odd as that suggestion was. Real estate proved to be the most advantageous venture but he had dabbled a bit in stocks as well.
Despite that idea being a success, it didn't change public perception.
Draco Malfoy had lost his magic. He had no place in the wizarding world anymore.
He couldn't even fly a bloody broom, forever sidelined. He only read magical texts when it pertained to his work. He'd not stepped foot in Diagon Alley since just after the war. Hermione swore it wouldn't be the same. People had moved on. No one would care.
He wasn't convinced so he'd stayed away. It couldn't last forever though.
Hermione hoisted herself onto the counter next to his laptop. He knew that was a signal to wrap up his work for the evening so he typed out a final message and closed it.
He gave her an overly formal bow. "My wife commands my attention?"
She rolled her eyes and pulled him to stand between her knees as much as her skirt would allow. She was regretting putting on her snuggest skirt suit today.
"We have approximately five minutes before our children come screaming like banshees through the house asking what's for dinner. I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow."
Draco swallowed and tracked her fingers as they reached to play with his shirt collar. Despite her bravado, she was stalling.
"We're ordering in tonight. I'm still holding a grudge against the frying pan from this morning."
She huffed a laugh and shook her head before she lifted her eyes to his. "I told Lyra we'd go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get her things for school...before the rush in August you know. Well, everything but her uniforms anyway. I feel like she's about to have a growth spurt. I can charm them but..." She rolled her eyes. "I'd rather they just fit properly from the start."
"Alright," he answered cautiously. "And?"
"Are you sure you don't want to go?"
Draco reared back as much as her grip on him would allow and something inside his chest clattered to his gut. Disappointment perhaps?
He wanted to say he'd go. He wanted to go. His firstborn would soon be going to Hogwarts and taking her on her first trip for school supplies was a special task. But having to deal with the belittling stares and backhanded comments...
"Draco, she wants you to go."
He sighed and began shaking his head. "She's a child, Hermione. She doesn't understand."
Hermione pressed her mouth into a small smile and ducked her head to catch his eyes. "A very intelligent child. She's ours after all. She does understand, at least a little. She just doesn't care what anyone thinks."
She glanced at their refrigerator where many exams were stuck with large red A's marked across the top. It was the drawing near the center that caught her attention though. It was a rough drawing but showcased better drawing ability than either she or Draco had. A blonde man stood with his hands outstretched, a glowing ball of what was supposed to be magic hovering above his palms.
"She knows what you gave up for me. They both do. They wouldn't be here without you, Draco." She met his eyes and lifted her hands to cup his face. "I wouldn't be here without you. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about what you gave up for me. To be loved like that..." She shook her head as tears crept into her voice.
"Hermione," he sighed.
Draco drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her from where she sat on their kitchen counter. She fit like the most supple dragonhide leather glove.
"I would do it again," he whispered against her hair.
The next morning, Draco found himself standing stock still on the stone walkway. The minute they'd walked out of the Leaky Cauldron and Lyra made a beeline for Flourish and Blott's, the few witches and wizards who were a part of the early morning crowd stopped to stare.
Hermione had been entirely unbothered and merely pulled at his collar for him to lean down and oblige her with a kiss. "It's just that stark white blonde hair you gave my children," she teased.
That wasn't it and they both knew it. Besides, their children may be blonde but theirs was nowhere near as pale as their father's.
Still, Draco kept his eyes forward or focused on his wife and children. He didn't say with words how much it burned his pride that the shop keepers looked to his wife alone when it was time to pay. Hermione did her part and made a lovely little show of saying she forgot her bag at home. He didn't bother to care when she turned to glare at each of them after he left a stack of galleons on the shop counters.
The last stop was Ollivander's. Lyra and Leo both raced inside ahead of them. Draco's feet didn't budge when Hermione made to enter the shop. She looked up at him in question.
"She's going to be brilliant, Hermione."
Hermione squeezed his hand gently. "Of course, she will be."
He allowed her to lead him through the door of the dusty old shop. It was empty minus Mr. Ollivander himself beginning that age old process of helping a young witch find her wand.
His right hand twitched at his side as he watched Lyra lift a rosewood wand from its box and give it a flick. He stuck both hands deep in his pockets and leaned on a nearby shelf while a few boxes shot across the room.
"No, not that one," Mr. Ollivander announced.
He remembered the feeling, even after so long of not feeling magic course through his veins. The energy and weightlessness when he successfully cast a spell. The phantom feeling surged through his arm as he watched.
"Let's try this one then. Ten inches, hawthorn, and unicorn hair."
Draco stood a little straighter as his daughter took the ornately carved black wand. His breath stayed lodged in his chest when she gave it a soft flick. A nearby feather floated gracefully in an arc through the air and landed atop the shop counter.
"Curious and yet fitting," Mr. Ollivander said, his eyes meeting Draco's over her head.
Hermione caught his eyes as he stepped forward, already digging out the appropriate number of galleons from his pocket. He could see tears gathering in her eyes now but he didn't comment, not here in front of their children.
Mr. Ollivander held up a hand, palm out to stop him. "I'll accept no payment for this one, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco swallowed and released the galleons in his fingers back to the depths of his trouser pocket. His arm wound around Hermione without even thinking and he watched the childlike excitement on Lyra's face as her wand was wrapped for taking home.
Voldemort had been wrong. He'd not taken everything from Draco. Not even close. No one could take away love.
Be well, friends.
