It was a restless night for both of them. Hermione kept waking up, afraid Draco would do something stupid like go off on his own. She knew him well enough to know he didn't stick to any agreement he didn't like, and he wasn't crazy about this one. But every time she sat up on the bed she was relieved to see the shape of his body still on the sofa. The sixth time she did it, he got up with a sigh.

"Will you go to sleep already?" he asked, climbing onto the bed. "No one should be this alert in a castle under a sleeping curse."

She nestled against him, feeling too lonely to be proud. Tonight she needed him there, with his arms around her, pride be damned.

"When Scorpius goes to Hogwarts," she said in a low voice, "tell him it's okay even if he doesn't get Sorted into Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"I'll tell him that no matter what House he gets Sorted into, his parents will be proud," he said, kissing her forehead. "Unless it's Hufflepuff. Then I'll disown him and have him share a room with the house-elves."

Hermione smiled in the darkness. "And tell him about electricity," she continued. "I want my only child to know how to turn on a lamp."

"I'll even teach him about telephones," he said with mock gravity.

"As if you can use one yourself," she teased.

"I'll have you know I'm a great proficient. Weasley taught me all about it."

"Well, if Ron taught you all about it, I see I have nothing to fear about Scorpius's acquaintance with Muggle technology," she laughed.

"He will know all about phones, and light bulbs, and cars, and televisions," Draco said softly. "He will learn that his mother was Muggle-born, and that she was the greatest witch I have ever met."

"Always the flatterer," she said with a smile, her voice barely above a whisper.

He tightened his arms around her, drawing her closer to him and they became silent. It wasn't long before the rhythmic beating of his heart — familiar and soothing — lulled her into a deep sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

He had left his wand — Hawthorn, 10", unicorn hair core — on the pillow next to her. It was his most cherished possession in the whole world, and just then she could have murdered him with it, stubborn, bloody-minded prat that he was.

Dumbledore did not look surprised when she ran into the tower room, dishevelled and out-of-breath.

"May I interest you in a scone, Miss Granger?" he asked, pointing at the table in the corner, which was close to collapsing under the weight of countless baked goods of one sort or another, as well as fruit, tea, coffee and anything else one might need to provide breakfast to a small army.

"Where is he?" she asked, too mad even to be upset.

"Mr Malfoy? Oh, he left several hours ago." Dumbledore crossed to the other side of the room and picked up a biscuit. "I understand he had some very urgent place to be. Naturally I was only too happy to Apparate him to his destination — conventional travelling is so troublesome, don't you find?"

"Oh, Professor, you didn't…"

"Regretfully, I seem to have made a mistake and left him rather far away from his intended destination," Dumbledore added with a wink. "I'm an old man, after all, and my mind is not quite as sharp as it used to be."

If there were any mermaids in Mermaids' Lagoon, they were all hiding in the dark depths of the lake. Hermione tried not to think of what other creatures might be hidden beneath the mirror-like stillness of the waters. She had seen the bottom of the Black Lake, with its Grindylows, and Merpeople and Giant Squid, and had survived to tell the tale. She would not be cowered by the nagging feeling that there was someone watching her as she skipped from one stone to the next.

The lagoon guarded the entrance to the fairy realm, and there was no way to reach it other than by traversing its waters. The easiest way to achieve that, if one lacked a boat or the willingness to swim in waters filled with creatures of unknown temper, was by making use of the large boulders scattered across the waters. Some of the rocks were close enough that she could simply walk from one to the other. Others were far enough that she had to jump and hope to land where she intended. So far, gravity had been on her side.

Part of the lagoon was outside, surrounded by trees and sky, but it continued into a large cavern. The mouth of the cave was high enough and wide enough that sunlight invaded the space, driving away the shadows to the corners and nooks hidden in the walls. She was two stones into the cavern when she saw Draco, who was about to reach the other shore. He wasn't alone. The mermaids she hadn't seen outside swam alongside him, chatting and laughing, and playfully splashing the water with their colourful tails.

They had the ethereal beauty of Veelas, all of them grace and loveliness made flesh. It did not occur to Hermione to be jealous. They were breathtaking, and a lifetime of looking at them would still feel too short. A small part of her brain recognised their magic at work, even though it was not directed at her.

Trying to clear her head, she jumped to the next stone, landing heavily on the uneven surface. "Draco!" she called. The sound echoed, bouncing off the walls, filling the cavern with her voice.

His shoulders fell, and when he turned to look at her, he had the ready expression of a man prepared for a fight. So be it. She would show him just how loud lions could roar.

But she never made it to the other shore. The mermaids, never ones to be outdone by mere mortals, bitterly resented the intrusion and made their displeasure felt. One by one, they disappeared underneath the surface, and for a few seconds, everything was quiet and still in the dim-lit cave. And then all of them surfaced around Hermione, hissing at her, violently splashing their tails, and pulling at her clothes. The witch moved from one side of the boulder to the other, trying to avoid the hands that stroke out at her like claws, but they were all around her. Draco called her name, but her mind was too preoccupied with trying to fend off the assault for it to even register.

She didn't see the hand that pulled her under, but one minute she was kicking her leg loose, and the next there was darkness and cold and water forcing its way into her mouth and nose. The hands and arms were all around her now, holding her legs, and pulling her further and further down. She tried to shove and kick and bite her way to freedom, but this was their element and there was no winning against the home team.

Her last thought before she blacked out was that beautiful or not, she liked the Black Lake's Merpeople much better, and that she wished she had got to see the fairies.

There was nothing but pain when she came to, her body fighting to cough up all the water from her lungs. She never knew water could burn so much. Pain spread from her chest to her throat, and breathing was harder than anything had any right to be. Someone's hands helped her sit up, and she should be grateful to whoever that was, but sitting up only made the walls spin faster, and neither her eyes nor her head were quite prepared for such fast-spinning walls.

And then came the yelling. She couldn't entirely make sense of all his words, but she got enough to understand the gist of it. Something about stubbornness and recklessness and not knowing when to give up. And why couldn't she just have stayed put and waited for him to break the blasted curse. Damn Gryffindors who always had to be the heroes. And maybe he didn't need her to save him again. She had saved him enough. Maybe it was his turn to save her.

Bless the man. He was lovely to look at, but he just didn't know when to stop talking. There was something she was supposed to say, too. She also had words about stubbornness and recklessness and not knowing when to give up. Words born in the moment she woke up to find him gone. Words that grew while she waited for Dumbledore to finish his breakfast before moving on to the exhausting business of Apparating her on the shores of Mermaids' Lagoon. But all her words seemed to have been washed away by the icy waters of the lake.

If only he would stop yelling. Hermione leaned her head back, feeling the solid pressure of the rock wall behind her. Breathing was now a little bit easier, even if it felt as if an elephant had sat on her chest. She raised an arm towards him. "Come here," she said with the voice of someone who had just swallowed half a lake. The yelling stopped abruptly, but Draco did not move. "Come here already," she repeated, not in a frame of mind to be contradicted.

After hesitating for a few seconds, Draco knelt in front of her, pulling her into a tight embrace that did nothing to help her breathe, but that warmed her down to her very soul. She could feel his body shaking against hers, and he didn't let go for a long time, as if wanting to reassure himself that she was still there.

The tunnel did not go on for very long, but it was already night-time when they emerged on the other side. Moon and stars watched over the world below, their light paling in comparison with the glow of the fairies that twirled, turned and spun through the air like overgrown fireflies, leaving a trail of sparkling dust in their wake.

"They don't seem particularly bloodthirsty," Draco observed. They didn't look particularly interested in them either, casting them the occasional unconcerned glance while going about their fairy business, which seemed to involved a lot of mad dashes through the air.

Some fairies had long transparent wings that shone in the light like glass, while others favoured the colourful wings of butterflies, or the feathery wings of sparrows. Unsure of what to do, Draco and Hermione headed for the swarm that gathered around the large oak in the middle of the clearing.

"Excuse me," Hermione said, trying to get their attention. "Can you help us? We are trying to go home." The only fairy that paid them any mind was a sparrow-winged male, who seemed fascinated by Hermione's hair. He patted a curl, checking its consistency, before tugging at it and dropping it again. He flew around her with the interested look of a connoisseur, all the while making excited bell sounds.

"I think you have an admirer," Draco teased.

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione tried again. "Might you perhaps help us get home?"

The fairy rose in the air, looking her in the eye, as if realising for the first time that there was a person attached to that extraordinary hair. He dashed to a group of other fairies, and the bell sounds rose in pitch and number. Finally, the sparrow man returned accompanied by two other fairies, a petite brunette and a male fairy with butterfly wings. They chimed appraisingly, staring unabashedly.

"It appears I'm the superior sacrifice," Hermione said with a small smile. Draco only frowned, closing his hand around hers possessively.

The sparrow fairy, clearly the leader of that small ensemble, chimed a question that Hermione did not understand. She nodded regardless, trusting Dumbledore to be right. Then, turning to Draco, she kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you," she said. "Take care of our son." She made to move away, but he pulled her back to him, kissing her again with an intensity that made the fairies look away, red as peppers.

"And I love you," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. He tightened his arms around her, unwilling to let her go. But it was not his choice to make.

When she turned back to the fairies, there were tears in her eyes, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "You have a deal."

The fairies chimed excitedly, patting each other on the back and shaking each others' hands. The sparrow man reached for her hair again, separating a large curl. With a ribbon conjured out of thin hair, the butterfly man tied up the strand of hair with a pretty bow. Then, with a tiny pair of silver scissors, the female fairy cut off the lock. The sparrow man hugged it with an ecstatic expression, twirling in the air.

With self-satisfied looks, the other two fairies tugged on Draco's sleeve and on Hermione's jacket, motioning for them to follow. Exchanging a puzzled look, the witch and wizard let themselves be guided by the chiming fairies, who led them away from the great oak tree. The farther they walked, the fewer fairies they saw, until only their two guides remained.

Hermine stopped in her tracks when she saw where they were headed. Bradford Cottage looked just like she remembered it, with its thatched roof and grey stone walls. The fairies stopped short of the circle of light shining through the windows, but Hermione and Draco barely noticed the loss of their companions.

Inside, the lit fireplace warmed the small space that doubled as kitchen and living room. The small bookcase by the sofa was overcrowded with books, and there was an old Nimbus 2001 in a corner. Pictures occupied most of the far wall. Hermione and Draco on their wedding day, happily waving at the camera. Draco and Harry racing each other through the air, chasing a Snitch that didn't appear on the frame. There was a picture of Narcissa and Hermione's mum with Scorpius, both grandmothers cooing at the baby and telling him to wave at the camera.

It was a beautiful replica of their little cottage, but it was not the real thing. The books had been packed and taken to Malfoy Manor, the Nimbus had long since been relegated to the attic, and all the pictures had been taken down by house-elves before closing off the house.

"Fairies take things rather literally, don't they?" Hermione said, trying to smile as she looked at the pictures. "Dumbledore was wrong."

Draco grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her. "That old git never does by mistake what he can do by design."

Hermione turned her face to look up at him. "What do you mean?"

He kissed her nose, before mimicking Dumbledore's voice and saying, "Merely trying to illustrate a point, Mr Malfoy."

"Terrible impersonation." She laughed. "And what would his point be?"

The sweetness in his smile — so unusual and so missed — went straight to her heart. "That you're my home," he said simply. Not trusting herself to speak, Hermione kissed him deeply, trying to express what she had no words for. Because he was her home too, and she had been away for far too long.

There was more food in the pantry than there had ever been during the time they had actually lived in Bradford Cottage. Hermione had been a poor cook in those days, and Draco was still getting used to the extraordinary notion that food didn't simply magically appear on one's plate at meal times. Luckily for the newly-weds, they had been so close to Malfoy Manor that the house-elves had taken it upon themselves to ensure that the young master and mistress did not starve, and even Hermione's constant attempts to present them with clothes couldn't keep them away for long.

Fairies were of a less servile nature, but a single strand of hair had earned them eggs and ham, biscuits and milk and tea. Draco quickly decided he would try to make an omelet.

"Do you even know how to turn on the stove?" Hermione asked, sitting at the table in a leisurely manner and being as unhelpful as she could possibly be.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to use a box of matches," he said, almost dropping one of the eggs he was juggling. "See that? Seeker reflexes."

"Show off."

"Make yourself useful and go fetch the basket of apples I saw outside," he demanded imperiously.

"We're trapped in a fairy-tale world and you want to eat apples? Have you never heard of Snow White?"

"Of course I have. Cho. Broke Ginny's heart. Is clearly shagging Longbottom."

"Stop playing the fool and give me that," she said with a smile, taking away the endangered eggs. "In the story, Snow White is poisoned by an apple. No apples."

"Whoever would think to poison me?" he asked, pulling her to him and kissing her neck. "I'm far too pretty to die in such a pedestrian manner."

"How does death by sleeping curse suit you?" She mussed his hair. It helped to laugh about it.

"I saw Fleur. I'm sure I look just as dashing. I will make a beautiful corpse."

"Well, Mr Corpse, I was promised an omelet and I see nothing. Get to work."

"Slave driver."

"Rich prat."

"Did you know this house was actually built for a Muggle?" Draco broke two of the eggs into a bowl and started scrambling them enthusiastically.

"What kind of Malfoy would build a house for a Muggle?" Hermione tied her hair back and reached for the ham, starting to cut it into small pieces.

"The first Lucius Malfoy." Stealing some of the ham, Draco dropped it into the bowl, mixing it with the eggs. "He had an affair with a Muggle woman, and he built this place so they could meet in secret. The villagers in the area believed her to be the widowed wife of a rich merchant, one Elizabeth Bradford."

"Hence Bradford Cottage," Hermione concluded. "So you are not the first Malfoy to fall in love with someone beneath your station," she added wickedly.

"Oh, I don't know about that." He grinned, tossing the mix into the frying pan. "Who knows who started the rumours about the dead husband, but Elizabeth Bradford was actually an alias for Elizabeth Tudor. My many times great-grandfather was shagging Gloriana Regina herself. I dare say a crown kind of offsets the whole Muggle business. So I guess I'm still the first Malfoy to fall in love with someone beneath my station after all," he said teasingly.

Hermione pelted him with bits of ham until he caught her hands, holding them hostage behind her back as he kissed her.

"Prat," she said when he finally let go.

"I love you," he said adoringly.

"You better." She kissed him again, happier than she had been in a very long time.

"We should exchange another lock of hair for a basket of non-poisonous apples," he said, turning to rescue the omelet, which ran the serious risk of never realising its full potential as an edible meal. "And I'm sure those fairies could…"

But Hermione never got to know what the fairies could, for Draco stopped talking, looking intently at the wall in front of him. "What?" she asked, turning off the stove.

"Fairies…" he repeated. "Fairies and mermaids and pirates. What did Dumbledore say? 'All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust'. I thought it sounded familiar at the time…" Draco moved around the table, looking at nothing in particular as if trying to organise the thoughts inside his head. "It's from Peter Pan," he said, staring at Hermione, a smile spreading across his face. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You're not the only one who reads to Scorpius. Don't you get it? It's Peter Pan."

It only took a second for Hermione to realise what he was getting at. "But it doesn't meant that—"

"Yes, it does. That's how we get out. That's how we wake up." His excitement was contagious, but Hermione still hesitated, glancing at the small room around them, with its simple comforts and small tokens of love and family. This was home. This was the place where she had been the happiest, and the last time she had left, everything had ended up broken and in ruins.

Something of that must've transpired on her face, because Draco crossed the space between them, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. "It will be different this time," he said softly, his lips close to her ear. "We'll try harder. We'll do better. We'll be better. I'm not losing you again, Hermione. I'm not losing myself either. We can make it work."

She nodded. Her child was waiting for her. Her family and friends were waiting for her. If there was a way out, they had to try. And maybe rejoining the world took greater courage than simply staying and waiting for death in that enchanted cottage in the middle of the woods, but Hermione had never lacked courage.

"So how do we get past the murderous mermaids?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"We fly, naturally," he said with a grin. "The trees outside are covered in pixie dust. We can just fly out of here."

"On second thought, I prefer dying." There were few things she hated more than flying. She could never see the fascination, and flying lessons were the one subject where Hermione Granger had failed spectacularly during her time at Hogwarts.

"Chicken," he teased, pulling her towards the door.

"Falling or drowning, these are my options?" she asked dispirited, following him despite herself.

"Well, starving is still on the table."

The woods outside, being as they were the regular playground of fairies, were covered in heavy layers of pixie dust. Draco and Hermione only had to shake a few branches to suddenly be surrounded by heavy clouds of golden powder that sent them into fits of sneezing.

"This is not very conducive to happy thoughts," the witch complained.

"What about this?" Draco asked before kissing her, his left hand resting on the nape of her neck. When she opened her eyes, they were five feet above the ground.

Later on, Hermione would not remember much of their flight across Neverland, retaining only the memory of Draco squeezing her hand as she tried very hard not to think about Isaac Newton.

The fairies chimed happily and waved when they flew by the great oak tree, but the mermaids barely spared them a contemptuous glance as they passed high over their heads.

The sun was shining outside the enchanted fairy realm, which had the fortunate effect of increasing visibility, while also having the terrible downside of increasing visibility. It made it so much easier to see how far above the ground they were. Hermione could have done without the information.

They flew around the island for a few hours without spotting another living soul, and Hermione was starting to wonder whether it was simply another wild-goose chase when movement caught their eye.

"I think I see something," Draco said, diving into the forest below.

Hermione followed at a more sedated pace, and she had just reached the trees when she was met by a barrage of rocks and sticks. Startled, the witch lost her grip on the magic keeping her air-born and started falling at a rather alarming speed. Draco screamed her name and dashed towards her, but someone else got to her first, catching her mid-air and lowering her safely to the ground.

Her saviour couldn't be any older than thirteen years old or so, and had pitch-dark hair and arrogant good looks that reminded Hermione of someone. He dropped her to the ground as soon as they were close enough, and she fell heavily with a thud.

"Everyone get over here," he demanded, yelling at the trees around them. "What did I tell you about trying to kill people?"

A brown-haired girl appeared from behind a tree, and Hermione recognised eleven-year-old Lavender Brown as she had met her on their first year at Hogwarts. "You said not to," the little girl said primly, "unless they're pirates or grown-ups. And she's a grown up."

Another little girl appeared, her hair bubble-gum pink. "Yes," she agreed, "that's what you said. You clearly said grown-ups were allowed."

"Well, she's no grown-up," the boy said, annoyed. "She's Wendy."

"Wendy is a grown-up," Tonks said with a shrug, as if stating the obvious.

Draco helped Hermione to her feet. "You okay?" he asked, concerned. She nodded before turning her attention back to the scene unfolding before them.

"Tootles, Nibs, Curly!" Peter yelled at the trees. "You as well. I know you're out there, you little cowards."

Three very contrite little boys walked out of the trees, their heads bowed low as if no amount of penance could ever wipe out such a vicious crime. Hermione recognised Colin Creevey straight away. Of all of them, he was the one who looked more like he had been when he died. Right behind him walked Vincent Crabbe, and it was only when Hermione realised that the third boy was a very young Remus Lupin that she recognised Peter Pan.

"Sorry, Peter," the three boys said in a chorus.

"Don't apologise to me, apologise to Wendy!" Sirius demanded, pointing at her.

"Sorry, Wendy," all the boys echoed. Lavender merely rolled her eyes, and Tonks sat on the ground, seemingly bored, her hair turning a bright shade of green.

"What about him?" she asked, pointing at Draco. "Can we kill him?"

"No one is killing anyone," Sirius said, frustrated. "Unless they're pirates. Pirates you can kill."

"So you're saying no grown-ups," Lavender said slowly, trying to ascertain the precise leeway they had in any murderous endeavours.

"Unless they're pirates," Crabbe said cheerfully, happy to have understood at last.

"A clever lot, you are," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"Erm, Peter," Hermione said at last, thinking it was as good a time to interrupt as any. "We were looking for you."

"Of course you were," he grinned. "I'm Peter Pan. Everyone should be so lucky as to find me."

"I think I see the family resemblance," Hermione winked at Draco, before turning back to the boy. "We need to go back to London. You have been there; you know the way. Can you take us?"

"An adventure!" the boy said excitedly. "Lost Boys! To the pirate ship! You are in luck, Wendy, as I have just taken possession of a vessel. Captain Bella Hook was loathe to see it go, but seeing as she's rotting in Prince James's dungeons, I don't think she'll be needing it any time soon."

"We fought great battles with the pirates to take that ship," Colin explained.

"And then we hanged them all from trees," Tonks added with a smile.

"Murderous little bunch, aren't they?" Draco whispered as they followed the merry band through the woods.

"They're certainly spirited," Hermione said, reaching for his hand. He smiled at her, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. They were going home.

The light hurt her eyes and she closed them back again. The whispers around her grew louder and she could feel movement.

"Hermione, love?"

"Mum?" she tried to say, but her throat was parched and no sound came out.

"Get the healer," Harry's voice said.

Someone raised her head and touched a glass of water to her lips. She managed to drink only a few drops before being too exhausted to continue. She tried to open her eyes again, but everything took too much effort. After a few seconds, the whole world was darkness once again.

When she woke up, the first person she saw upon opening her eyes was Harry.

"Hey you," he said with a smile.

"Hey back," she croaked. There were needles stuck to her arms, and she could see the colourful bottles they were attached to dangling above her head. "How long…"

"Almost five days," Ginny said, sitting on the bed next to her. "You're lucky to be alive."

Hermione let Harry help her sit up on the bed. Just then, her mother walked in, carrying Scorpius. "Oh, honey," she said, running to her daughter.

Hermione took her child in her arms and burst into tears, while her mother held them both in a tight hug. The puzzled little boy looked from one tearful woman to the other, but quickly decided that the tubes sticking out of his mum's arms were infinitely more fascinating.

Draco came into the room by his own feet, supported by his father and by sheer force of will. He hesitated at the door, but Hermione saw him through the tears and smiled at him. It was all the invitation he needed. Jean Granger got up from the bed, and Draco took her place, his arms around his family.

"We made it," he whispered, kissing Hermione on the temple.

"We're home."

AN:

While writing this story, I kept underestimating how long it would be and how long it would take me to write it. I owe a very big thanks to my beta Raistlin who put up with all sorts of crazy schedules on account of it. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Thank you also to Cali, for all the cheerleading and demands for the next chapter.

Finally, a big thank you to the artist who created the wonderful piece I used as a prompt. It's a gorgeous drawing and I was lucky to get to work with it.

While I'm very fond of different parts of this story for different reasons, I particularly enjoyed writing Pansy and the Twins (it's always great fun playing master puppeteer with those three).

Biggest lesson I learned writing this fic is that I should never name a character something I cannot spell. Rumpelstiltskin has got to be the most unspellable name under the sun!

Thank you all of you who read until here. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it :)

~Kel

Notes regarding quotes:

In the second chapter, when Draco and Hermione reach the crossroads and are trying to decide which way to go, the dialogue paraphrases parts of Alice in Wonderland.

In the sixth chapter, when Dumbledore says that "All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust," that's a direct quote from Peter Pan.