Malfoy - Granger - Weasley

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“Tell me about mother,” Scorpius looked at his father - who was sitting in the middle of the drawing room, drinking a cup of firewhisky. Scorpius entered the room, a large book in his hands. Draco stared at the book before he spoke.

“Your mother was a wonderful witch,” Draco said, looking at his son. “Very proud of who she was, I guess all Slytherin’s were, actu-

“I want to know about my real mother,” Scorpius took a step toward his father. “I know mu- I mean Astoria was not my biological mother. It’s another witch. I’m sure of it.” Draco’s eyes widened.

“Scorpius, do not begin with these st-

“I’ve seen the photographs, dad. I know that Astoria isn’t my mother.”

Draco looked at his son, tears beginning to fill his eyes as he suddenly realised what book he had in his hands. It was the book she had made, filled with ultrasound images of Scorpius. One with the three of them.

“Tell him when he’s ready,” She smiled through the tears, placing a hand on her lovers cheek. “But in the meantime, I want you to move o-

“Don’t start with that bullshit again, Granger,” He sniffled, attempting to hide the tears that caressed his eyes. “No woman would be able to fill your spot. I wouldn’t love any woman the way I love you.” Hermione let a tear drop from her eyes. Sitting in St Mungo’s hospital waiting for the healers to come through the door, assuring them that it is time for baby Scorpius to enter the world.

“Draco, listen to me,” She whispered, staring into his grey eyes she hoped their son would inherit. “I want you to move on, fall in love,” She began to sob, “make sure she treats Scorpius as her own, so he will never question whether he is hers or not,” her bottom lip began to tremble. “Only tell him when the time is right. Tell him that his mother loves him, and will always be there for him. No matter what.”

“Hermione, don’t make me do this,” he sobbed into her hand, “I- I can’t lose the love of my life.” She leaned in, her forehead brushing up against his as their lips were concealed into a loving embrace. She pulled away.

“I will always love you, Draco.”

“Miss Granger,” The healers walked through the door, “it’s time.”

Hermione fell pregnant with Draco’s son four years after the war. They fell in love despite the odds. They fell in love despite the Daily Prophet and their trudged up nonsense. Hermione and Draco were over the moon when they found out they were expecting.

“Has your partner been a victim of the Cruciatus Curse?” Draco’s face paled.

”Ye-yes. Four years ago.” He looked at his sleeping lover through the glass window of the St Mungo’s maternity ward room.

“Mister Malfoy,” The healer looked at the blond with pity, “Due to the immediate effects of the Cruciatus, and not being healed with the proper antidotes and spells, Miss Granger will not be able to carry this child. And if she does, the chances of both, her and the child surviving are slim. We expect that the two of you should come to a conclusion by the end of the eighth month,” he stumbled. His features paling and his eyes watering.

“A conclusion?”

“We will only be able to save one, Mister Malfoy. The baby or Miss Granger.”

“You-your mother was the most beautiful witch to exist. Her smile was everything to me. Her cheeks would turn a vibrant shade when I complimented her,” He looked up at his son with a distant smile, “or when I said that her hair reminded me of a bird’s nest,” he chuckled, “or when she looked at me. She looked at me like I was everything to her. Her eyes weren’t brown, no,” he smiled absentmindedly, “they were caramel, the tip of her iris was a golden shade, and in the sun they looked yellow. The way she battered her eyelashes at me when she was teasing me,” he let a tear stream down his face. “Your mother was the bravest woman I knew. She fought in the war, she fought for what she believed in despite what people thought of her. She walked through the front door six months after the war and declared that I told her the truth about why I chose to be a death eater. She was brave until the very end.

“Dad,” Scorpius meg his father’s stare, “why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“She told me to only tell you when the time was right,” He laughed, “Merlin, how was I supposed to know when the time was right? Your mother was great at those things. Not me.” He let another tear fall. “I wanted you to grow up, knowing your mother. Not Astoria. But your biological mother, Scorp. But I promised your mother that I’d do that last thing for her, and that’s what I did.”

Scorpius was now sitting across from his father, tears glossing his eyes and he stared at the moving photograph resting on his lap.

“How did you get this photo?”

“The Healer managed to let your mother hold you for a minute before the charm would wear off. It was one of the healers who took it. She gave me the photograph before I left St Mungo’s.” Draco stood, walking toward his son, seeing the photo he always turned to. The photo where Hermione was laying in bed, baby Scorpius in her arms and Draco hovering over them two, staring as if his world had been complete.

“Mum’s Hermione Granger, isn’t she? I’ve heard a lot about her. And how she was the brightest witch of her age,” Scorpius looked up at his father, “Headmistress McGonagall always tells us about her. About how brave she was. She told me that I reminded her of mum,” he smiled, “I was so happy, dad. I was so happy to be compared to the brightest witch of her age,” he began to cry, “and all along, that’s all i thought she was. The brightest witch of her age,” Draco embraced his son into a muffled hug, “but she was was so much more. She is my Mother.”

Draco let the tears stream down his face. His son had never met his mother. The fact that he was so much like her, and Draco couldn’t even tell him, was what hurt him the most. He had her lips, her button nose, her freckles her-

“You know what was the last thing thing she said to me, Scorp?” Draco smiled, looking down at his son.

“What?”

“If he doesn’t stop staring over here I’m going to shove his wand right up his-”

“Draco!” Hermione scolded, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“I mean it Granger,” he muttered in reply, not taking his eyes off Harry. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think he fancied me.” 

He turned his attention back to Hermione, smirking at her.

“I told you it’s going to take a while. They’re still getting used to … this,” Hermione motioned to the pair of them, before continuing to crush the ginger root. 

“Well they better get used to it soon. I’m getting sick of everyone looking at me like I’m going to bloody attack my girlfriend,” he drawled looking back at the recipe for the Beautification Potion. 

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked at him, her face breaking into a grin. His eyes flickered back up to her when he noticed her lack of movement. “What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” she said shaking her head slightly, “It’s just… that’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend.” 

He stared at her before clearing his throat. 

“Hey, wait,” Hermione said. “We’re not done yet.”

“I am,” he said, not turning around.

“No you’re not!” said Hermione. “Professor McGonagall wanted both of us to do this.”

“I bloody know what McGonagall said,” shouted Malfoy turning around. “There’s no one out here. Everyone is in bed. This is a waste of my time and I have better things to do.”

“It’s just 30 more minutes. You seriously can’t hold out for a half hour?” Hermione threw her hands in the air and started to walk away from him. “What is so bleeding important that you can’t stand to be around me for 30 more minutes?”

“I didn’t say it was because of you,” he said more quietly from behind her. “I just..” he hesitated. “I just have something I need to work on.”

“At midnight? On a Tuesday?” she said turning back to him.

“It’s none of your damn business, Granger!” he shouted, now walking towards her. “Why are you like this? All pushy and bookish and so bloody noble? Why can’t you just keep that muggle nose out of my business? What I do with my time is for me to decide.” He was in her face now, slowly backing her towards a tapestry on the wall. “We aren’t friends. We don’t even have the decency to be cordial to each other. We’re enemies. We’ve always been that and we’ll always be that.” Hermione could see flecks of blue in his eyes. He stopped. She was almost against the tapestry now. “I can’t handle being around you.” He said forcefully, but softer. All the malice had gone from his eyes. He bowed his head and lifted his arm to brace himself against the wall when several things happened very quickly.

His arm did not hit tapestry or wall like he had expected. He had meant to lean heavily against it but instead found himself leaning right into a bewildered Hermione. His hand slid right through the fabric and stone as if it weren’t there at all and he felt Hermione tumble backwards with him. She screamed and locked her fingers around his sweater at his waist. Stumbling he caught the back of her head with one hand and braced himself for the fall with the other. They hit the ground with a lurch and he crushed her beneath him. He dropped his head next to hers, breathing heavily. She was still clutching his sweater, her breath coming in short pants. He did not immediately let her go.

“Dear god Malfoy,” she panted. “What the hell did you just do?” She was blinking and staring up at the ceiling above them.

“I didn’t do anything,” he spat, lifting his head and looking around squinting. Whatever they had fallen into, it was brighter and and a golden blue haze seemed to pulse from the source of the light. “What are you laughing for?” he asked, looking down into her face. Her nose was scrunched up and she had begun to shake with silent giggles. “This isn’t funny, Granger. You could have been seriously hurt!”

“There you go again,” she said through her laughs. “Worrying about my safety. And I thought we weren’t friends.” She fixed him with a serious expression, then burst into laughter again. Malfoy felt her hands twist up in his sweater some more. He pulled his hand out from under her hair swiftly and smirked in satisfaction at the crack that was her head hitting the floor. She stopped laughing. He pulled her hand off his sweater and stood up looking around.

“What is this place,” he said. Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Ow, you prick,” she said, rubbing the back of her head.

She began looking around and her eyes got wider and wider the more she saw. They were in a narrow tower, three stories high. In the middle of the room was a small circular desk, surrounded at the opposite end by a half circle bench covered in fluffy blue and gold pillows. Rising on the walls all around them were shelves and shelves of small cylindrical objects, each with a colored jewel set into the round wooden end. At each floor level, there was a narrow balcony and a dusty old ladder that stretched up to the next level. The ceiling of the tower was a deep blue and upon it were hundreds of twinkling stars. A small glassy orb hung on a thin chain from the middle of the bundle of stars. Inside of the orb, glittering smoke rotated casting thin wintery light against the adorned ends of the objects.

“Scrolls,” Hermione breathed from the floor.

“What?” Malfoy asked staring down at her.

“Those are scrolls,” she said pointing and getting to her feet. She walked to the closest wall and ran her fingers down the colored jewels, finally landing on deep red one. She pulled it from the shelf with awe. “This is a library,” she said in a hushed voice, not looking at Malfoy.

Malfoy looked back up at the tower walls. Every now and then, between each bundle of scrolls, there was a solid gold plaque. He followed his eyes to the nearest one that he could read and saw a thin letter ‘D’ etched into it. It was a library. He looked back to Hermione. She had unfurled the scroll and was chewing on her lip as her eyes sped across the page. She looked back up at him. 

“These are centuries old,” she said, her eyes alight with joy. “I didn’t know this was here. I mean, did you know this was here?” she asked him.