Chapter Text
September 1, 2021
Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp as a golden apple. Or, to Draco’s preference, a green apple—the only sour, bitter thing in his life nowadays. And as his little family strolled across the road towards the great sooty station, the fumes of car exhausts and the breath of pedestrians sparkled like silver tendrils of Patronus Magic against the cold air.
It was funny, Draco thought, to ever make such a comparison. In his tormented youth, the first of September was one of the few days with guaranteed happy memories. But now, this day was far more bittersweet.
Prepare as he might for Scorpius’ departure, Draco wasn’t quite ready to see his son leave for Hogwarts.
“Dad, can’t we go with Scorpius?” Carina pouted, clutching her father’s hand.
“Two more years, love,” Draco told her, his cheeks dimpling ever so faintly. “And then you and your sister will get to go to Hogwarts.”
“But that’s so far away,” Capella sniffed. “We want to go now!”
Draco sent Hermione a wink as their daughters rushed to her side, their musical voices now pleading with their mother instead. The twins' shift in attention allowed Draco to fall back where Scorpius dragged behind, whose nervous eyes were focused on the platforms up ahead.
“You alright?” Draco asked, pocketing his hands to disguise his concern.
Scorpius was biting his lip nervously—a habit he learned from his mother, and one that always reflected the tension within.
“Dad,” the boy mumbled. “…Do you think I’ll be sorted into Slytherin?”
“Perhaps,” Draco smiled.
“But…maybe Gryffindor?”
“That’s possible.”
“…Or Ravenclaw, do you think?”
“You might.”
“…Or even Hufflepuff?”
Draco hesitated for a moment, but still smiled as he said, “Stranger things have happened.”
Hermione laughed up ahead, and Draco sent her another wink as they made their way through the station.
“Your mother and I will love you no matter what, Scorpius. Your House doesn’t define you. It’s just a place to start a foundation.”
"...Do you promise?"
"I promise," Draco grinned. "Scorpius...I know you worry. It's something you get from me, I'm afraid. But...when you feel inclined to doubt, I want you to remember something, alright?"
"What?"
"It's something I learned years ago...a mantra of sorts, that's helped me through my darkest moments. When you worry—whether it be about your House, your classes, your new friends, or anything—acknowledge those fears, and let them pass."
"Let them pass?"
"Yes," he smiled, squeezing his son's shoulder. "Don't be ashamed of fear, Scorpius. But don't let it consume you. Does that make sense?"
"I think so," the boy nodded. "So...you won't be upset no matter where I'm sorted?"
"Of course not," Draco affirmed. "Scorpius...no matter where you’re sorted, you’ll find a sense of belonging. You'll feel at home. Because…well, everyone belongs at Hogwarts, Scorpius. Everyone."
Draco’s answer seemed to reassure the young boy, whose sunken shoulders perked up with a fresh sense of optimism—an achievement that warmed Draco's heart and quieted his own sense of nerves.
And not a moment too soon, he thought, as they reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten.
“Carina! Capella!” Hermione called, reaching a hand out for her daughters. “Come now, and I’ll help you through the barrier!”
Draco and Scorpius let out the same silent laughter as the twins rushed forward—twisting and turning through the Muggle foot traffic, much to the annoyance of a nearby Porter. Of the five Malfoys, the two sprite-like children were the only ones perfectly unphased by Scorpius’ incoming departure. But of course, they had always been unfathomably resilient.
Carina was the little lionheart and Capella was the serpentine sage—and they both had their father wrapped around their tiny fingers.
“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Scorpius asked his parents, his hazel eyes pleading.
“Every day, if you want us to,” Hermione answered.
“Not every day,” Scorpius sighed. “Jamie says most people only get letters from home about once a month.”
“Did he now?” Hermione teased, raising a speculative brow. “Well, I know for a fact that Harry and Ginny wrote to him three times a week during his first year.”
“And you don’t want to believe everything that Jamie tells you about Hogwarts,” Draco added. “He likes a laugh, your cousin.”
Scorpius nodded vigorously, taking in every word.
He was so clever.
Just like his mother, Draco smiled to himself.
“Alright girls!” Hermione sighed, pulling Carina and Capella tight to her sides. “Take my hand! We’re about to go through!”
With squeals of delight, the twins followed their mother's rushed footsteps towards the barrier. Draco, meanwhile, grabbed Scorpius’ trolley to help him push forward.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” his son whispered.
Side by side, the father and son hurried forward, gathering speed with every step. When they reached the barrier, Scorpius winced, but no collision came. Instead, they emerged next to Hermione and the twins onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by the thick white steam pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express.
“Where is everyone?” asked Scorpius anxiously, peering at the hazy forms as they made their way down their platform.
Draco didn’t need to clarify that “everyone” meant the Weasleys, the Potters, the Notts, and all the other families that belonged to their motley crew. Unfortunately, all they saw were the indistinct figures swarming through the mist, each of them pushing trolleys of their own. But thankfully, their rushed steps were beginning to waft the clouds away.
“We’ll find them,” Hermione reassured.
Just then, Draco noticed a familiar impish grin smiling at them through the fog—one Theodore Nott, whose "yoo-hoo!" could be heard across the platform.
“There they are,” Draco snorted, nudging Scorpius' shoulder as he did so.
Three figures quickly appeared from the mist, each of them standing alongside the very last carriage and waving the Malfoys forward.
“Hi!" Scorpius grinned, who was visibly relieved when he caught his friends' eye.
Selene Nott, who was already wearing her brand-new Hogwarts robes, beamed at him.
“About damn time,” Theo chuffed, clapping Draco on the back. “I’m supposed to be the one who arrives fashionably late, not you.”
“Dad,” Selene groaned, rolling her eyes. “Being late is no laughing matter.”
Draco fought back a laugh. Selene had her father’s amber eyes and impish grin, but their similarities ended there. In every other respect, she was a walking, talking clone of Daphne.
“I agree with Selene,” Hermione smirked, hugging Daphne as she gave the youngest Nott a cheeky wink.
Draco only laughed.
“So, speaking of late, where is everyone els—”
“Oi!”
Through the haze of steam, more figures emerged.
Ron waved a gangly arm, looking painfully ridiculous as he did so. At the redhead’s side was Lavender, whose bright smile was leading Rose and Hugo forward.
To their right came the Potters, who still managed to attract a large bit of attention from passersby. James—who was about to begin his Seventh Year—walked ahead of his parents, because he was, like most seventeen-year-olds, far too angsty to ever been seen with them.
Draco, of course, made a note to tease his favourite nephew at his earliest convenience.
Lily Nymphadora and Albus Cedric—or “Albie,” as he was so affectionately called by his mother—were not yet of the opinion that their parents were painfully embarrassing, and proudly pushed their carts side-by-side.
“Hey Scorp! Hey Selene!” Albus waved, rushing forward to greet his best friends.
The trio had been fast friends for as long as any of them could remember, which pleased their parents to no end. Scorpius was their reserved but determined leader, Albus carried all manner of audacity and wit, and Selene could be counted upon as the savant with a streak of chaos.
Draco couldn’t help but think that they reminded him of another trio he once knew.
“Look who it is!” Ron cheered, clapping Draco’s shoulder as Harry and Theo exchanged familiar handshakes.
In turn, Hermione, Lavender, Ginny, and Daphne exchanged similar pleasantries.
“Dad! Dad, can we go on the train?” Carina asked, her golden curls bouncing with eagerness.
“Can we mum?” Capella added, clutching the edge of Hermione’s pressed trousers. “Pleeaaaaaaase?”
“In just a moment,” Hermione laughed. “There’s still plenty of time to load up.”
As Draco knelt down to re-tie Carina’s trainers, two more additions made their way through the thick plumes of the platform.
“Finally!” Pansy hissed, storming through the crowd with Neville on one arm and a designer handbag on the other. “We’ve been looking for you lot for ages!”
Neville smirked, casting them all a look that clearly communicated that they had only been walking for a few short moments.
“The hells are you doing here?” Ginny laughed, embracing Pansy in a tight squeeze.
“Pansy wanted to say goodbye to the—”
“Darling dragged me along to say goodbye to the children,” Pansy snipped, interrupting her husband before he could expose the sappy nature that she kept hidden under a shroud of nonchalance.
A shroud that was thinning every day, thanks to all her nieces and nephews.
Not far behind Pansy and Neville were Blaise and Padma, who both looked less-than-enthused to send Jiya off to her third year of school. Draco didn’t bother to hide his amusement for the irony that Blaise—a man well-known for his philandering youth—had grown to become the overprotective father of a young girl.
Time certainly had a strange sense of humour.
“Dad,” James muttered, drawing both Draco and Harry’s attention as he brushed the back of his perfectly gelled hair. “I’m going to get on the train to find Fred.”
“Alright,” Harry laughed. “If you see George or Angelina, tell them we’re here. We have a book that Roxanne needs for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.”
Draco craned his neck over the crowd, wondering if he’d see any sign of Teddy or Victorie. Teddy was due to begin his second year as the instructor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Draco hoped that his godson might have a few words of encouragement to offer Scorpius before the train left the station.
But of course, there would be many years of encouragement on the horizon, he was sure.
“Bloody hell,” Harry laughed, interrupting Draco’s thoughts. “Look—there’s Dudley. Let me go say hello.”
Draco traced Harry’s gaze to a stocky man not but a few feet away, whose young son was staring at the Hogwarts Express with a wide-eyed expression.
“That’s Harry’s cousin,” Hermione whispered in his ear.
“Bloody hell—the piglet who used to torture him?”
“The very one,” she nodded. “Funny how time can change things, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he grinned, his grey eyes taking in the hazy scene. “It is indeed.”
The conductor let out another loud whistle, alerting everyone that the train was due to depart in just ten short minutes. The station became a quick flurry of movement, followed by the anxious tittering of parents and the rushing feet of children. Draco and Theo helped carry most of the luggage onto the train, reserving the children two empty cars to discard their personal effects. When they returned to the pavement, most everyone was sharing goodbyes—Hermione and Scorpius included.
“You have your jumper?”
“Yes, mum.”
“And the Quill Quip I made for you?”
“Yes.”
“Write as often as you need to, alright? Even if it’s more than three days a week, we don’t mind.”
“Alright,” Scorpius nodded, blushing somewhat.
If Draco had to imagine, he and Hermione would be sent a Quill Quip that very evening.
“Alright my boy,” he sighed, kneeling to grip his son’s shoulders. “This is it.”
Scorpius met his father’s stare, his hazel brimming with a perfect mixture of eagerness and fear.
“Remember—no matter what House you’re sorted into, you’re still you—right here.” Draco tapped against his son’s charcoal jumper, touching the spot right above his heart. “Make friends, make memories, and try to learn a thing or two. But no matter what, don’t forget how much we love you.”
“Yes dad,” he nodded, looking a bit more relieved than earlier.
There was a moment, then, of hitched anticipation. It was the transition—the transfiguration, even—between the past and the future. Draco could feel it plain as day, just as he did so many times before.
The lurch in his stomach. The lump in his throat.
But this time, he wasn’t being pulled by any time-turner or wormhole. He was merely a witness to that which transpired—life, and the progressive shift of time that kept the world moving forward.
His son—his boy—was growing up, and Draco was powerless to stop it.
But he knew, most assuredly, that this change was good. This life—this tug between fate and time—required a sense of surrender. And as he stood back to his feet, ready to wave his son off to Hogwarts, Draco let go of his need for control.
Hermione interweaved her hands in his own, her eyes glossy with tears as they watched their son board the Hogwarts Express.
“Be good!” Ginny yelled to Albus, who most certainly would not.
“Be rotten!” Theo mimicked, met with another eye-roll from Selene.
“Have fun!” Hermione concluded, her sweet voice tight with emotion.
The three children waved from the window—Lily, Jamie, Jiya, Hugo, and Rose all crammed behind them. And with one final blow of the whistle, the train’s symphony of rolling wheels and creaking joints drowned out the sound of affectionate tears.
And then they were gone—off to Hogwarts, to forge their own legacy.
Draco looked down at his wife, and thirty years of history passed through their stare. Draco could recognize the bittersweet joys marred by a lingering sense of nostalgia, just as he felt them in the deep pit of his chest. And even after all this time, the beauty and acceptance of Hermione Granger still left Draco rather breathless.
Every fear he once carried had long since passed.
Side-by-side, he and Hermione had forged the life they deserved. One of peace, and one of compassion. Together, they brought life into the world, and they filled it with love. Three children—three perfect, wonderful children—who lived as a testament to the golden threads of fate intertwining Hermione and Draco together.
This life was worth living.
This life was worth remembering.
The Occlusions had not plagued Draco for thirteen years.
All was well.