Chapter Text
„Dad?”
„Yes, Scorpius?”
„Can I ask you something?”
Draco Malfoy looked at his son briefly and with a small smile he nodded.
“What is it?”
“It’s just… When Albus and I went back in time, we… We landed in those alternative realities of our world.”
“I’m aware. What about it?”
“And in one of those realities, you and Rose’s mum… You… Uhm… Were together.” The boy quickly spitted out last words, afraid that if he won’t tell them now, he’ll never get the courage to say them out loud.
His father stopped abruptly and turned around, looking at his son, his brow raising questioningly and a look of surprise on his face.
“Rose’s mum? You mean Hermione Granger?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you mean that we ‘were together’?” Draco cleared his throat, praying so that his voice wouldn’t tremble and betray his curiosity.
“Well, you know…” Scorpius looked away from his father’s face, nervously twisting his fingers. “You were… Married.”
If it’s possible Draco’s brows raised even higher, this time a look of pure shock crossing his face.
“Married?” He repeated, his voice strangely hollow, not a trace of single emotion in it. “Me and Hermione Granger?”
“Yes.”
For a moment Draco seemed absent, his gaze looking somewhere far, far away, almost like it was locked on some kind of invisible point in front of him, or almost like for a moment he was lost in his own thoughts, own memories, taking him back in time. Until finally he cleared his throat and looked at his son.
“What exactly is your question, Scorpius?”
“I was just thinking… Albus told me stories how you and her always hated each other at school and then you were married there, so… I was just wondering… What is the truth? Was there anything between the two of you?” He raised his blue eyes, the mirror image of his father’s, with a pure curiosity, the kind only an innocent child can have.
Draco didn’t answer at first. He looked up again and his gaze almost involuntarily moved and stopped on figure of Hermione Granger, standing not so far away, right now being deeply involved in a conversation with Ginny and Harry. Him and Hermione Granger… Was there anything between them?
This one single thought seemed to open that part of his brain that he thought was shut a long, long time ago. That one, innocent question his son asked and his mind was flooded with the memories of the past, the ones he hoped never to think of again, the memories of those few, precious times that for just a brief moment she truly seemed like someone else to him, like someone… More…
But was there ever anything between them?
Was it that single glance of admiration she shot him once, during elixir classes? Was it that moment when for the first time in forever he actually managed to be better than her, to excel at something higher than she? He expected nothing more than offended sneer coming from her mouth, a hateful gaze full of jealousy and anger that someone could have been better than her. But no. Instead he saw nothing but a pure respect when their eyes met, the same one he so often hid in his own eyes, not allowing himself to show how much he admired the witch, who was already called the brightest of their age.
Or was it the day when for the first time ever she truly smiled to him? He couldn’t even properly remember what was that about, but he remembered saying something offensive and yet hilarious about Mr. Filch, just one of his many jokes, followed by his well-known smirk. And that’s when he heard a soft snort and his eyes immediately shifted, noticing the familiar bush of curly hair and seeing how Hermione Granger’s lips curled in a smile. It wasn’t a grimace of disapproval or her usual sneer, present on her face whenever he was saying something. No. It was an actual smile, caused by his joke and for a moment he was taken aback, part of him surprised that someone like her could smile at his terrible joke attempts but also that other part of him, wanting to say something equally offensive about her, making fun of her. But when her deep brown eyes met his and the smile didn’t disappear from her face, no, on the contrary, it only grew bigger, even softer, his once opened mouth closed, not capable of saying a single word…
Or maybe it was the day of the Yule ball? When for the first time in his life he noticed, truly noticed, that a girl he once despised, the girl he called Mudblood on so many occasions, suddenly started to change into a woman? And a beautiful one? Though he joined his friends in making laugh of everyone, at the same time he couldn’t avert his eyes from her silhouette, that pink dress being the only thing he could truly notice in the crowd of other people… And then he found her sitting on the stairs, her makeup being a mess, faint traces of mascara rolling down her cheeks, with her tears, when she was hugging her knees, hidden in the far corner of the castle. He heard her fight with Weasley minutes before and the only thing stronger than the urge to punch the idiot in the face was how to make her feel better… The thought itself was so surprising to him back then that he greeted her with another snarky comment, almost immediately regretting it when her swollen and red eyes met his, another tears forming in it. She even told him to leave her alone, to back off, but he didn’t. Instead he came closer, being aware of her eyes following his movements carefully, almost like she was expecting it was some kind of a trick. But he just sat down next to her, saying something about Weasley being an idiot, which was met with her snort and her eyes averting from him, not wanting to admit that her thoughts were the same. Was it that moment of solitude, when he reached out to her, putting a comforting hand on her arm? His thumb gently caressing her bare skin? He could not help but notice that she flinched under his touch at first, almost like it was something disgusting and it took all of his willpower to leave the hand exactly where it was. It took seconds, maybe minutes, but finally she covered his hand with her own, warm, trembling and they were sitting there, in silence, not a single word spoken between them…
Or was it that embarrassing moment in the library? When he was so lost in his thoughts he literally bumped into her? He could remember books and parchments flying around when they both fell to the floor, looking at each other with surprise. ‘Watch where you’re going, Granger’ he told her back then, well aware of all the eyes locked on them in that moment. If he would apologize to her, it would be the biggest gossip of the week and he could not allow to destroy his reputation, even if it meant being terrible to the girl he started to care about. Her eyes squinted in that moment, her cold gaze meeting his until finally she turned her back to him and murmuring loud swearwords she started to collect her things. He stood up himself, dusting off and moved his gaze over her silhouette, thinking that suddenly her hair looked less bushy than usual, curls gently flowing around her blushed face. He came closer to her and with a sigh he reached out to her, extending his hand. Her eyes widened, for a moment eyeing him and his hand, curiously, before she grabbed it hesitantly and he helped her to her feet. She murmured a ‘thank you’ and hugged the books closer to her, yet still standing in front of him, looking up from behind her eyelashes. And he? He was an idiot who was thinking of anything to say, anything that could keep her here, for a moment longer, anything that would actually allow him to spend a bit more time in her presence. If he remembered correctly, he apologized and then asked her about the homework, noticing the bunch of books about transfiguration she had in her hands. She just sighed, shaking her head and to his own surprise admitting how hard was the next essay she had to write. He couldn’t remember how exactly did that happen, but soon they were sitting together, arm to arm, hidden from the prying eyes in the far end of the library, books open, feathers screeching against the parchments, when they were both writing their essays, talking, truly talking with each other for the first time…
Or was that this hug she gave him during the sixth year? One of the worsts years he had in this damned school? This memory was still fresh in his mind, carved into it, refusing to go away. He was just entering the Main Hall and the first person he noticed was Katie Bell, talking to Potter. He could still feel the same weight in his stomach right now as he did back then, when their eyes met and for a split of seconds he could only think of how he could have killed her, how this one reckless mission he couldn’t deny was almost a death wish for her and for him. He noticed Potter looking at him and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, tie around his neck feeling like a loop, suffocating him. He turned around and started to run, not looking where or if someone was following him, he just wanted to run away. When he got to the bathroom, his trembling hands started to take off his tie, his sweater, leaving him only in his shirt, his lungs finally remembering how it is to breathe again. The cold water splashed over his face was the little he could do to regain the composure he was always so proud of. But back then it was for nothing. He looked at his own reflection, a tired, pale boy, who was made to grow up too quickly, thrown into adult’s business against his own will and being trained to be a puppet he didn’t want to be. But he didn’t have any choice… He could still remember how his hands were shaking, gripping the edges of the sink; he could still remember the feel of his own tears on his cheeks, falling against his will, when he was crying over everything he had lost. And then he heard footsteps, her footsteps and the battle in his head begun again. The battle between hating her, just like he was taught to do, when with one hateful word he could make her go away and make her hate him. And a battle between that other part of his heart, deeply hidden, but silently telling him to trust her, to open up to her, to let her into his heart… He was afraid to turn around, afraid to look in the mirror, knowing that he will not only see her there, but she will have to see his own reflection, broken, beaten, weak… It felt like eternity before she moved once again, this time coming closer and with no words her arms sneaked around his waist, her cheek pressed to his back, when she hugged his fragile body to hers from behind. He was too surprised by her gesture to do anything at first, until finally he realized that her warmth, the weight of her small body against his back, the gentle touch of her hands, were exactly what he needed. Holding his breath he turned around, finally looking at her, ready to see the pity in her eyes, or maybe even the derision of him being so weak. But of course, he found none. Instead he met the eyes full of compassion, full of worry and he wrapped his own arms around her, hiding his face into her hair, hugging her like she was the only anchor to this world, keeping him sane…
Or was it the look in her eyes when being a coward he chose the easier path of following his parents, instead of fighting for what he really believed in? They all knew the battle of Hogwart was lost, they all knew that Harry Potter, their hero, the only person that had a chance to win, was dead. He could still remember the cold of that day, rain falling from above, dark clouds gathering around and the two different groups, standing in front of each other. One, wanting nothing more but destruction, power, worshipping Voldemort like a god, like their savior. And the other one, bigger, yet weaker, group of teachers and students, who got beaten, all hope lost. And he was among them, student just like the rest of them, broken, beaten, not so long ago fighting for the school he learned to love over last years. Until their parents called him. Until their urging voices were echoing around the silent place, telling him to join them, to come back to the legacy he was always meant to have. His throat was tight, making it unable to swallow, to breathe, that huge something being stuck in there. His fingers clenched around his wand even stronger, knuckles already white, when he could feel tears gathering in his eyes, tears threatening of spilling, tears caused by yet another moment when he had no choice. He never truly had, never in his life, despite of all the things Hermione had told him before. He had to play his part, be the man his parents always wanted him to be, even if it meant betraying everything and everyone he believed in. He flinched by his father’s voice, knowing that it was now or never. And then he started to walk. His slow footsteps were echoing around the walls and he could feel everyone’s eyes on his thin figure walking through the place. He didn’t care about their eyes, didn’t care about their judging gazes, he cared about only one pair or brown eyes, the ones that were always looking at him so softly, so differently. Against himself, against his own rational part of the brain, he looked at her and in that moment he knew what exactly he was losing. Her eyes were as soft as always, the first person in forever that looked at him as someone more. And yet those eyes were full of betrayal, full of sadness and full of tears, when in that one painful moment she understood that he didn’t have any choice at all… And that no matter what their hearts wanted, she was never meant to be his choice...
What if he didn't listen to his parents that day? What if he found enough strength to resist and stood his ground? What if he joined the other side, what if in that moment he would stood right next to her, taking that strength he needed from her presence? What if he took her hand, pulled her closer and fought with her, arm to arm, for things they both believed in?
What if he did more than avert his eyes, when his aunt was torturing her in Malfoy’s Manor? What if he casted his own spell, hurting Bellatrix, maybe even killing her, so he could grab the girl into his arms and run away, as far as possible, doing everything in his power to protect her from any harm? What if he risked his own life, just so he could save hers? What if both of them would run away from the threats, this war, all the dangers that came later and changed them both?
And what if he did more than just hug her, in that old, dirty bathroom, when she was the only thing keeping him sane? What if he found the courage to admit to his feelings, confessing everything he was hiding so deeply? What if he kissed her back then, at least this one time being capable of feeling the taste of her lips against his own?
What if he asked her to dance on that Yule ball? Would she decline? Laugh it off in his face? Maybe even she would slap him, like she once did? Or maybe she would see past the barriers, those he meticulously put up throughout his whole life and she would see the real him, the one he kept hidden so deeply inside him? Maybe she would never have to cry over Weasley’s stupidity, maybe she would never have this one perfect evening destroyed, maybe then he would stand a chance…
Maybe if he never called her the Mudblood, never hurt her that much at first place, then she would never have a good reason to hate him? Maybe instead of enemies, they would start as friends and then become someone more?
Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, allowing other’s to control his own life, he would be different? Maybe if he stood up to his parents, he wouldn’t be the broken and tired man he was now? And maybe, just maybe, that alternative reality his son saw, wouldn’t be just an alternative?
After all there was always something between them…
His gaze absentmindedly moved across Hermione’s figure once again but this time she must have sensed someone was looking at her and she turned her head to the side, their eyes meeting. For a moment she was simply holding his gaze, until finally her eyes softened, just like they used to do and she smiled to him, the same smile that shocked him once and the same one that always kept him going in the darkest moments of his life. Corners of his own lips lifted in a one as well, and her gaze moved across his face, still soft, yet something else, unreadable in it, something feeling almost like longing before she finally looked back, Ginny grabbing her arm as they slowly started to walk away.
And what if she was right and he always had a choice? But he just refused to see it, always choosing the easier way? Instead the right one?
“Dad?” His son’s voice brought him back to reality and his frowned forehead smoothed out, corners of his lips lifting in a fake smile, the one he kept on practicing for so many years.
What was the point of dwelling on the past, if he couldn’t change it? What was the point of all those ‘what if’ when she could never be his?
“No, Scorpius.” He lied, his eyes for the last time moving across Hermione’s silhouette, her figure slowly disappearing in the distance. “There was nothing between us…”