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Hermione watched as the little boy ran back and forth at the park, wild auburn curls flopping onto his forehead as his sister chased after him, their shrieking giggles reaching Hermione all the way at the benches. She let a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth as she watched Rose and Hugo play, finger rubbing over her now ringless finger. Three months divorced and she still hated the feeling, hated that Ron’s side of the bed was empty and that Rose came home talking about how Lavender made her ex-husband smile.

With a sigh and a shake of her head Hermione stood up and froze at the sight of a familiar man walking into the park, white blonde hair no longer slicked back but falling past his ears and hanging in his eyes. There was no sneer on his pointy face, no malice in his silver eyes, but there was a smaller figure hanging onto him, onto Draco Malfoy. A small version of him, maybe Rose's age, with the same white hair and gray eyes. His son, Scorpius.

She hadn’t seen him since his trial, 7 years ago. Well not in person, the Prophet was quick to follow him around and write articles about the newest Lord Malfoy, ex-con and now widow after his wife Astoria had died of a blood curse a year ago.

But it didn’t make sense that he was here. At a muggle park. With his son. Maybe he got lost?

But no, he’s a wizard, with magic and spells that wouldn’t let him get lost. She was wondering whether she should just grab the kids and make a run for it before Malfoy saw her when she realized that he was watching her, corners of his mouth turned down and brow pinched. Her fingers were in her pocket and around her wand before she could think about it, a spell on the tip of her tongue in case Malfoy tried anything.

Her daughter stopped her though, her little Rose, always happy to make a new friend, was running towards Malfoy and little Malfoy.

Hermione followed after her, calling out a quick “Rose!” that made her daughter freeze and look over at her mom before running again. With her heart in her throat, Hermione followed, hand around her wand and ready to protect her half-blood daughter, scar on her arm and throat burning. Malfoy went pale at the sight of both Granger women running towards him, Rose excited and Hermione slightly terrified. Scorpius looked confused and kept on glancing up at his father and well, he’s an adorable child, all pink cheeks and big eyes and wind-swept curls. 

But he’s a Malfoy and they are blood-purists at their core and Hermione would be damned if Rose ever had to feel like Hermione did because of people like Malfoy. “You live here?” is the first thing he says to her when she gets there, Rose in her arms and Hugo huffing and puffing over, barreling into her legs before cuddling into her. Hermione holds both of her children close and gives Malfoy an annoyed look.

“At the park? No. In the area? Yes.”

His mouth quirks at her snarky answer and he smirks down at her and says “So do I,” in a slow drawl meant to drive her crazy.

Hermione blinks. Here. As in Muggle London.

Oh.

Draco finally did it. He rendered the Golden Girl speechless. Hermione Granger, formally Granger-Weasley before the Weasel left her, was staring up at him in mute shock. Scorp blinked at her before looking up at him again, brow furrowed. "Can I go play now, daddy?"

Hermione flinched at the sound of his voice and the little girl, the mini-Granger, beamed. "You can play with us! We were going to play tag." Draco watched his son's eyes light up and without even asking the little boy was nodding eagerly.

The traitor.

"He knows what tag is?" Is what Granger asks, her cheeks flooding with color as soon as the question is asked. It took a minute before the meaning behind the question clicked. Granger still saw Draco as a blood purist. And figured he was raising Scorpius to be the same. Probably thought he bought Scorpius here to get a head start on terrorizing little muggle children. Better to start them young and all that. But Scorpius could never be like that. He had too much of Astoria in him. Merlin, Draco had a bunch of ducks roaming there backyard because Scorpius figured out they lost their mother and didn't want the ducks to suffer. 

His son had named each and every one of them and took care of them himself. They were his very best friends and yeah, Scorp didn't have it in him to be a blood purist.

" - and then Milo and Sarah asked me to play with them on Monday!" Scorpius was saying, and Draco blinked, glancing down at his son, pink cheeked and talking a mile a minute. And Granger looked like she swallowed a lemon. Swot probably realized Scorpius was the type of child to befriend someone before ever saying a mean word about them.

"You can play with Rose and Hugo, if you want," Granger was saying, smiling softly. Draco wanted to be petty, wanted to remind Granger why she hated him so much, but Scorpius was beaming and practically vibrating and he was looking up at Draco with such a hopeful expression that he could only nod. With a happy "thanks!" his son was off.

He watched the mini-Granger, Rose, tap Scorp on the shoulder and yell out "tag!" before running off, his son chasing after her. Granger was already staring at him when he glanced over at her and Draco did not like having her full attention on him.

Not one bit.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice so soft Draco told himself he imagined it.

"Hmm?"

Granger scowled, which was much more like her. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I misjudged you and your son and your reasons for being here. It was rude of me and I apologize."

And because Draco is Draco and he can't help himself, he smirks at her. "Wow," he drawls, "the Gryffindor Princess, apologizing to the ex-Death Eater. Someone call Skeeter."

The look on Grangers face told him exactly where he could put his suggestion.

All was right in the world again.

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This thing between them was supposed to be casual. But casual wasn't even a word Draco knew the meaning of anymore.

No, casual stopped the moment Hermione sleepily whispered "Draco" in the early hours of the morning and he realized just how beautiful her smile truly is.

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Sunday Brunch had been a tradition between Narcissa and Hermione since she started dating Draco. Narcissa would take Hermione to her favorite café, sometimes in the Muggle world and other times in the Wizarding world.

There were only 3 times that brunch had not happened.

The first was the day Hermione and Draco got married.

The second when Scorpius was born.

The third when Narcissa Malfoy died.

But Sunday Brunch lived on in her daughter-in-law and her granddaughters, Lyra and Cassie.

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Draco watched with genuine affection as Hermione swayed back and forth with baby Scorpius, the one-year old fussy and refusing to be set down for a nap. She was humming some song to him, something her mum had sung to her.

It seemed to be working, their sons eyes going droopy and his whimpers dying down. Once he finally fell asleep they both went silent and still, worried any small movement or noise would wake him up. And it felt surreal, watching the Hermione Granger taking care of their son, Scorpius Granger-Malfoy, with his wild brown curls and silver eyes. A perfect combination of Draco and Hermione. Hermione cleared her throat and when Draco looked up at her, she was smiling softly.

"You okay, love?"

And Draco smiles, because Merlin is he happy, and so ridiculously in love.

"More than okay. You have me so completely under your spell, Granger-Malfoy."

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Draco looks down at Lyra who glares up at him with her tiny hands fisted at her hips and her brow furrowed and Merlin does she look exactly like Hermione right now.

"Daddy bad," she mumbles and Draco pouts at her, crouching down so he can look at her, trying not to laugh at how offended the one-year old is.

"Daddy's a bad guy because I said no to putting make-up on the dog?" And Lyra gives Draco such an enthusiastic nod that he bursts out laughing.

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"We're just friends" became a lie Draco told himself everyday.

When Hermione kissed his cheek in greeting.

When she showed up to his office with his favorite foods during his lunch break.

When she held his hand and leaned into him.

Just friends. Companions. 

In Hermione's mind, and their friends, they've been dating for the past month.

But sure, Draco, just friends.

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Rose tugged on Draco's pant leg until he bent down to her level, brow raised and a small smile on his mouth.

"Yes, Rosie-posie?"

"I know something you don't," the 6-year old whispered into his ear, curls tickling his cheek.

"Yeah?" He whispered back, "and what's that?"

"My mummy loves you," said with a wide grin and scrunched up eyes. Draco grins and presses a kiss to Rose's forehead. Her words make him feel all warm and he knows he must be blushing.

"I love your mummy, too."

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Harry figured it wouldn't work, but the two of them were so oblivious sometimes he knew it would never happen on it's own.

So you can imagine his surprise when the blind date actually led to an extravagant Granger-Malfoy wedding.

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"Only one bed for the kids," Draco tells her, nodding his head towards the Queen bed next to theirs. Rose and Scorpius are too busy exploring the hotel to care much about sleeping arrangements.

"I've already found both of them in the others bed three times this week, I don't think they'll mind."

Draco shrugs and tugs Hermione onto the bed next to him, smiling when she laughs and curls up against him. He rolls her under him, pinning her to the bed and smirks down at her.

"How about we put this bed to use?"

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It was a little weird for Hermione, to be next to Ron at his wedding, acting as witness along with Harry as he bound himself to Lavender. It's even weirder because in another life-time it would be her bonding herself to Ron, entwining her soul with his. Instead she had bonded herself with Draco Malfoy, had fallen in love with him and chose him as her forever. She looks out at the audience gathered for the ceremony and her eyes immediately find Draco, two-year old Scorpius on his lap with Teddy leaning against him.

Draco looks at her and grins, the special smile that he says is hers, eyes crinkling and cheeks dimpling and Hermione beams. Her hand drifts down to her stomach, not quite showing just yet, but she swears she can feel a thrum of magic, like the baby is saying hi.

So, yes, it was weird but she wouldn't change it for anything.

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Harry watches with thinly veiled distaste as Draco carries around Orion, the little one-year old babbling to his maternal grandfather as Draco nodded along and made small noises of agreement.

The stupid prat.

Orion had started off the party attached to Harry, squealing for Grampy to throw him higher, to chase him around the backyard. Then sodding Draco Granger-Malfoy had shown up and he was chopped liver as his only grandson went running off to the smug blond.

All because he had gotten Orion the newest practice broom for future Quidditch players before Harry could. It's like Malfoy had known that Harry was planning on getting it for him for Christmas and was determined to make Harry look bad.

Looking over his shoulder, Draco met his eyes and smirked, like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking and was telling him: yes, you're right.

Fucking tosser.

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Hermione cries out when Draco finally thrusts into her, her walls clenching around him as he groans into her throat. She swears she sees stars as he begins to nip at her, drawing her skin between his teeth and nibbling at her.

"Going to be my good girl, dove? Going to cum all over Daddy's cock? Hmm?"

Hermione keens, hips pushing up in an attempt to get more friction, to make him move. He stays still though, cock pulsing inside of her as he chuckles.

"Daddy's greedy girl," he coos, pressing a kiss to her pulse that makes her whimper.

"Please," she gasps, her orgasm just out of reach, her head all fuzzy and she just wants daddy to fuck her.

"I'll be good daddy, so so good, please," she babbles incoherently.

And finally, finally, Draco fucks her. Slamming into her at a brutal pace as one hand holds her hip in a bruising grip and the other clutches her thigh to his hip for leverage. When he finally gives her permission to cum - the words spit out through gritted teeth against her temple - she lets out a keening whimper, walls closing around him.

And she's only half-aware of Draco praising her; calling her his little dove, his good girl, kissing her deeply as he sweeps his tongue into her mouth and fucks her through her orgasm. 

He pulses inside of her and gives one final brutal thrust before emptying himself inside of her and Hermione makes a small sound and buries her face in his throat, panting and squirming until Draco pins her to the bed with his weight, his body pressed against her in the way she loves as he peppers her chin and jaw and throat with kisses until she giggles sweetly and nips at his chin playfully.

"My sweet girl," he mumbles affectionately, "my sweet, perfect little girl," and Hermione smiles and closes her eyes.

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"Do you feel sick?" Draco asks, large hand pressing against her forehead as Hermione curls up against his side, eyes closed.

"Just a little," she mumbles, pressing her cheek against the softness of his shirt as her stomach twists into knots.

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"You have to pinky-promise, daddy," Lyra pouts, gray eyes as serious as a four-year old could be.

Fighting back a grin at the sound of Hermione and Scorpius laughing, Draco wraps his pinky around Lyra's.

"I pinky-promise," he swears, much to his daughter's delight.

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Harry watched Hermione yell at Ron from a safe distance, very happy that he wasn't the one on the end of her annoyance. Because, well, Hermione is bloody scary, truly terrifying, when she's like this.

Draco was watching next to him, arms crossed over his chest and smug smirk on his pointy face. He wasn't the reason for the fight per-se but he also wasn't innocent. All he had done was comment on how pretty she looked pregnant with his child and the Weasel had gotten all petulant and upset, like a child. That had caused Hermione to get very upset and for Ron to say he found it dumb for her to be upset, which caused sadness to turn into anger.

And Harry and Draco had run for cover.

Because they have a sense of self-preservation.

"There's a spell for that," Harry says suddenly.

"For what?"

"Shutting up Ron before he can get himself killed."

And Draco laughs, which causes Hermione to turn to look at him and fuck, she's storming over to him, murder in her eyes.

"Bloody hell."

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Hermione put the band-aid on Scorpius's knee, the three-year old's gray eyes all teary and wide, lower lip wobbling and tears streaming down red cheeks. It was a sadly adorable expression and Hermione couldn't help but lean down to press an exaggerated kiss to the boo-boo.

"All better?"

Scorpius gives a small sniff and falls into his mother, small face tucked in her neck and little fingers clutching her shirt collar.

"I'm better, mummy."

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Hermione, annoyed: Just close your eyes, Draco.

Draco, equally annoyed and confused: I don't see why I need to.

Hermione, exasperated: Just close your bloody eyes!

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His voice is soft when he asks, "can you sing? Please?", silver eyes wide and soft and Hermione can't find it in herself to say no.

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Lyra Granger-Malfoy doesn't particularly like toads, or any type of amphibian for that matter. They are slimy, and have really big eyes and one time Scorpius had almost made her kiss a frog he had found in the backyard. Her dad had lectured Scorpius for a good ten minutes about being nice to his sister after Lyra's terrified screech had sent him running.

But, since Ollie has a disgruntled Crooks squished to his chest, a big smile on his chubby face, Lyra guesses she could make an exception for Trevor the Second.

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The pure-bloods who barely lucked out of Azkaban and still held onto blood-purity like a security blanket hated the Granger-Malfoy kids. The half-blood offspring of two great noble houses and a mudblood.

They hated them even more when a sixteen-year old Scorpius and a fourteen-year old Lyra were seen with Malfoy signet rings. They had been horribly modified to each have a small G on top of the M, like a mockery of all the Malfoy house stood for.

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"You have to let him go, Granger," Draco laughed, watching his wife merely squeeze their son tighter in response.

"Granger-Malfoy, and no."

"Mum, I'm gonna miss the train!"

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"I promise it won't hurt," Hermione says, knowing it's a lie but also knowing it's the only way Draco will get his teeth checked.

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"I can teach you!" Lyra promised after Draco failed for the third time at making french toast the exact way Hermione did.

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Hermione is 4-months old when the mark appears on her left shoulder blade; a constellation of stars that her parents quickly learn is Draco, the dragon.

She's 11 when she finally learns what it means and meets the wizard that has the same mark as her. Learns that it doesn't matter to him because of her blood status.

Calls her a mudblood and she cries when Lavender Brown gently tells her what it means.

His name is Draco Malfoy and she learns to hate the constellation on her body and in the sky.

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"Untie me, please," from a four-year old Scorpius to Draco, who gives his son a confused look until Scorp wiggled his foot at him.

"Untie your shoe, not you, bug," Hermione corrects, and Scorpius shrugs, unbothered.

Not his fault daddy didn't understand. 

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Hermione is very confused when the eagle owl, haughty and proud, drops off the letter at her desk and then flies away. She recognizes the elegant script, the sloping letters.

"What do you want, Draco?" She mumbles, opening the letter and gasping as soon as the words click.

Asking her tonight. Hoping she says yes.

Then the sound of feet stomping, presumably the sound of someone banging into a wall. Then her door is thrown open and a disheveled Draco is standing there, panting and red-cheeked, eyes on the letter in her hand. 

"That message was meant for somebody else," he gasps out before hurrying over and taking it from her, holding it to his chest like it was something precious. Hermione bites her lip to keep from laughing as he mutters "I'll see you at home," before practically running out of her office.

"I'll say yes tonight," she calls out after him.

And she does laugh when she hears him stumble, watches him catch himself on a wall.

Merlin she's in love with a fool.

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Draco watches as the woman makes her way over to Scorpius, wild brown curls falling down her back and brown eyes as warm and golden as honey. Absolutely gorgeous and as bright as sunshine. But she's not for him.

"Hello," she says to his son, a small smile on full lips.

"Hi," Scorpius says, voice small and eyes guarded.

Losing your mother could do that to you, Draco knew. Especially losing her so young. Before you could get many memories with her.

"My name is Hermione Granger, I'm your tutor."

Maybe, Draco thinks as he watches Scorpius shake her hand with a shy smile, they could make new memories.

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Everyone was gathered in the atrium of the Ministry, witches and wizards between the ages of 19 and 25. Pure-bloods paired with muggle-borns and half-bloods. A way to make the birth rate go up. The inbreeding running rampant in pure-blood families was coming to a close.

Hermione was hoping, praying, to get a Weasley. Merlin, even Neville would be nice. Someone she knows, that she trusts.

You can imagine her surprise and anger when Draco Lucius Malfoy was picked to be her husband.

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"They were found during Prefect rounds, empty classroom on the second floor," Neville tells Hermione, nervously watching Draco out of the corner of his eye as he paces up and down the length of the room, magic sparking.

"If it's any consolation, they were dressed this time."

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"I know you saw me," Scorpius whispers to Hermione, cheek squished against the soft cotton of her jumper, the taste of Albus still fresh, and she sighs, patting his knee.

"I know I saw my son kissing the person he loves, and as long as you're happy, so am I."

Scorp comes out to Hermione first, not because he thinks Draco won't accept him, but so Hermione can help break the news that Albus is his boyfriend.

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Draco watches Rose go from house-to-house, dragon tail trailing on the floor behind her, asking random strangers for candy. And Hermione wonders why wizards think Muggles are weird.

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Hermione has a tendency to just stare at people, either blatantly or so lost in thought she doesn't realize she's doing it.

Draco makes the mistake of thinking Hermione is deliberately looking at him, not seeing the glazed far-away look in her eyes.

"I saw the way you looked at me," he drawls, smirking.

She jumps at the sudden noise, his voice breaking through her thoughts, and blinks up at him. The definition of confused.

"When did you even get here?"

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Draco cries when he officially adopts Rose and she just looks up at her parents in confusion because she doesn't understand that until now Draco wasn't her actual dad.

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"We're undercover spies!" Lyra whisper-yells to Hermione, ignoring Scorpius who hisses at her to be quiet.

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"I'll protect you," Draco whispers to her when she wakes up screaming, memories of a war long ago fought and won.

"I'll protect you," she whispers to her son, hand pressed against her swollen abdomen, watching her husband being laid to rest.

"I'll protect you," Scorpius whispers to his mum, only 4-years old but already knowing it's just him and her against the world.

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Hermione glares down at the formal gown laying offensively on her bed, the material a gaudy blue that sparkles and looks gray in a certain light. It's pretty, she'd give it that, but nothing else.

"I can't be seen wearing this!" She snaps at Draco, who signs and nods in agreement. "I'll look like I'm playing at being a pure-blood!"

Draco barely looks at the gown as he sends it back to his mother and smiles when Hermione wears a muggle dress to the ball.

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For Father's Day, every year, Lyra, always and without fail, makes Draco a home-made bracelet. He wears at least three of them on his wrist every day, always alternating which ones and seeing him wearing them always makes Lyra unbelievably happy.

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Hermione always makes it a point to be home for the holidays, be it for one day, a week or the whole month. She couldn't stand being away for so long and just the idea of not seeing her mum and dad for Christmas made her want to cry.

She always came alone until the year she didn't, walking through the door of her childhood home holding the hand of a blond-haired boy that soon became a staple in the Granger home. 

Hermione's children also decided they had to see their Nana and Pa for every single holiday, just like their mum.