Archive of Our Own

He could feel the sun gently warming his skin. It was a sunny afternoon in mid-July. The kind of day that brought back memories of his childhood, when he used to spend hours flying on a broom.

Narcissa’s voice was gentle, but firm. “Draco, could you stop by your father’s study today? I’d like to redecorate the West Wing. Take whatever you want from his things - the rest can go to Borgin and Burkes.”

They sat in the rose garden, drinking tea. His mother was in front of him, on her right was his 16-year-old son, Scorpius, and on her left was his 14-year-old daughter, Cassiopeia (Cassie, please!).

They were home for the summer, and Draco was happy to spend time with them, as he missed his children terribly when they were away at Hogwarts.
Hermione, his lovely wife, sat beside him. Hearing Narcissa’s question, she moved her hand to his knee, reassuringly.

He had planned to spend a sunny afternoon with his family. Enjoy the calm of the summer holidays, the quiet of nature. He could decline; certain his mother would understand. However, he had always been a Mama’s boy - even at forty-eight. He couldn’t deny her anything.

“Sure, Mother,” he answered, voice flat.

Narcissa nodded and whispered a quick “thank you”.

He hadn’t stepped inside his father’s study since he’d died at the end of the war. Their relationship had never been easy. As a child, Draco had admired him - but as a teenager, he came to despise everything Lucius stood for.
He died thinking of Draco as a disappointing, weak, and traitorous son. Had he still been alive, there was no doubt he would have been disowned.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hermione asked him quietly, caressing him softly where her hand was still lying on his knee.

Draco smiled at her. “Sure, don’t worry about it, my love”. After all these years together, his wife could read him like an open book. He stood up quickly, heading for his father’s study before she could stop him. ”I’m serious, I’ll be fine. I’ll go quickly through his belongings, probably get rid of most things and be done.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but a small supportive smile crossed her lips.

“Dad, can I come with you please? Just to peek at Grandfather Lucius’s study. There must be interesting books and things.” his daughter asked with pleading eyes.

“I’m not sur-” Draco started but was quickly cut off by Cassie “Please,” she insisted.

He sighed. Just like he couldn’t say no to his mother, Draco also couldn’t say no to his daughter. Honestly who was he kidding, he couldn’t say no to any woman in his life, really.

“Okay, come with me, but don’t touch anything.”

Cassie jumped to her feet and followed her father.

Cassiopeia was Draco’s miracle. Though the Malfoys had always been blond, with grey eyes to match, she had inherited Hermione’s curls and brown eyes. Scorpius resembled him in every way - proud, cunning, unmistakably Malfoy - but Cassie was a mix of both families, striking and unpredictable.

She was cunning just like her brother and father, brave and incredibly intelligent like her mother. Though, much to Hermione’s quiet disappointment, Cassie was sorted into Slytherin. 

Cassie walked beside him in silence. His mother mostly lived in the North Wing of the Manor nowadays. She had made the place warm and welcoming.

The East Wing had always been Draco’s private chambers since he was a child. Even though he didn’t live at the Manor anymore, his mother left it exactly as it had been. Two rooms had been redecorated for Scorpius and Cassie. For them to have a place to sleep when they stayed at their Nana’s.

His father’s study was on the West Wing. The house elves kept it clean but other than that, no living soul would go there.

It had also been Voldemort’s quarters when he claimed the Malfoy Manor as his residence during the war.

Considering the heavy past, it was no wonder Narcissa waited thirty years to start working on it.

“This part of the Manor is scary. I understand why Nana never wanted us to come here when we were little” Cassie commented casually, taking in her surroundings.

The corridors were empty, just as Draco remembered them - cold, silent, and far too full of ghosts. Square markings on the walls, the only witness of the past when portraits had once lined the walls.

“Yes, I didn’t like coming here either. Still don’t to be honest” Draco replied as warmly as possible. He didn’t want her to be afraid but just thinking about what had happened here set him on edge.

“Didn’t you ever go to your father’s study?” Cassie asked, oblivious to her father’s discomfort. “I love looking at the things you and Mum have lying around in yours.”

He considered her question, remembering the times he had tried to sneak into the study. He scrunched his nose at the memories. “No, I didn’t really have the same relationship with my father. I love when you spend time with me in my study. But I was scolded if I entered the room without being asked.”

Cassie eyed him, as if expecting more to the story. Explaining his relationship with Lucius to her was complicated. He didn’t want to tell her too much, yet he didn’t want to keep secrets from her.

He settled on remaining silent, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to ask about his past if anything came to mind. Of course, Cassie was curious. She was Hermione’s daughter after all.

They finally arrived at Lucius’ study. Draco opened the door and many childhood memories went through him. The room was large. Books and magical artifacts were scattered everywhere. His father truly was a collector and took great pleasure in showing off his possessions.

“Focus on the books. If you see something you’re interested in, just tell me – and, please, don’t touch anything, okay?” Draco asked his daughter. “You should be all right. Being a Malfoy, you ought to be allowed to touch everything without being cursed…but you never know for sure.”

Cassie nodded, eyes shifting from one corner of the room to the other. Scanning.

Draco took a deep breath and started looking around. Multiple stones were lying on the bookshelves. Some he could recognise - obsidian, quartz, amethyst - and other he couldn’t. Some books looked intriguing, covering magical creatures, ancient magic, or potions. He picked up a book on potions - his favourite topic - when his daughter interrupted him.

”’Blood supremacy in the Wizarding World’ - can we take it home just to burn it?”

Draco smiled at that and nodded, chuckling. “That’s a very good idea.”

Pride stirred in him when hearing his daughter talk like that. Thank Merlin, he and Hermione had been able to raise their children in a way that made them thoroughly disgusted with the Pureblood ideology.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco replied “Well, if you want to burn all the books about Blood Supremacy, might as well burn the whole Manor.”

Cassie rolled her eyes as she placed the book back on the shelf and moved to the office where bits and pieces of parchment, as well as quills, were lying around - untouched for years.

Draco turned his attention back to the book about potions, looking at the summary to see if there were any potions he didn’t know about. He had continued his studies after Hogwarts and had become a Potion Master. Even after all these years he couldn’t satisfy his curiosity.

He started reading when Cassie cut him off mid-sentence.

“Dad, what’s this? It’s making a strange sound?”

Draco turned around, his whole body freezing. Standing in front of him, his daughter was holding a ticking time-turner. These had been forbidden for years, and he had no idea his father kept one in his study.

“I told you not to touch anything, Cassie,” he snapped abruptly, in a calm but severe voice. “Put it down right now,” he ordered.

“I know but it just kept clicking, listen-” but at that moment, the time-turner stopped making any sound. Cassie looked up at her father, sensing that something was wrong.

Realising what was happening, Draco had the only one reaction - he leapt towards his daughter. He grabbed her hand holding the device, hoping she’d let it fall to the ground, so the whole thing could remain a near-accident they might laugh about later.

Instead, everything just went - black.

_____

When Draco opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was his daughter’s distressed face. Her brown eyes were wide with worry. The second thing he noticed at was the time-turner clutched in her hands.

“Merlin,” he cursed “how many times did you turn it?” he asked, grabbing the object from her hands and inspecting it. He knew what it was but had never seen one before. How did it even work?

“Dad, I swear I didn’t-”

“Cassie, don’t lie to me,” Draco hissed, forcing down his anger. He tried to calm himself. Maybe they had only gone back a few hours.

‘I… I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I turned it a few times. I didn’t know what it was - still don’t!’”

“It’s a time-turner, it lets you travel back in time.”

Against all odds, he saw a smile forming on his daughter’s lips. “Oh, like Mum used to have at school?” she said excitedly, trying to get the time-turner back from him.

He pulled it out of her reach. “Yes - except your mother used it to attend additional classes at Hogwarts, not to play with it” he hissed.

Looking around his father’s study, he noticed that it hadn’t changed much. Papers were still scattered everywhere, but maybe not at the same places anymore. But that didn’t mean anything though, perhaps the house-elves had moved some objects around while cleaning. Right?

He inhaled. Steady. Where was his clever wife when he needed her most? He exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Stay there,” Draco told his daughter.

“Where do you expect me to go anyway?” she snarked back.

He forced his breathing steady, counting silently, trying to keep his mind clear and to stay calm. As he approached the door, Draco glanced at her, “Cassiopeia,” he said “now is really not the time for sassy snapbacks. This is serious”. Bloody teenagers.

His hand hovered over the handle. Whatever was behind that door… He had to stay calm. He had to.

He took a deep breath before opening the door and looking out into the corridor they had just walked through a few minutes earlier.

Portraits. Everywhere.

He slammed the door shut and pressed his forehead against it, letting out a low groan. Every muscle in Draco’s body tensed, as if his very bones recognized the danger in the room.

Sensing that something was wrong with her father, Cassie approached him. “Dad, talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

Keeping his head lowered, Draco began talking “The portraits in the hall - I mean, my ancestors’ portraits - your grandmother and I removed them after the war and put them in the basement” he turned to look at her “They kept criticising my relationship with your mother. A Pureblood and a Muggleborn, that didn’t sit right with them. The whispers were driving me mad. I couldn’t stand it.”

He sighed and closed his grey eyes for a second before looking at his daughter intently. “All the portraits are back on the walls, which means we’ve travelled back at least thirty years in the past, if not more.”

A beat. He could see in Cassie’s eyes that she was understanding the seriousness of the situation.

“Actually, let’s hope we’ve travelled further forward in time, because otherwise it could mean that-” he swallowed, the words catching in his throat.

“Meaning what?”

He whispered, “That You-Know-Who might be living at the Manor.”

Cassie just looked at him, deadpan “Who?”.

Merlin, bless his children for living in a world where mad, snake-like dictators no longer existed.

“The Dark Lord,” voice grave and serious.

“Voldemort?” confusion crossed her face.

“Shh! Don’t say his name!” he whispered urgently.

Cassie eyed her father for a moment, taken aback. “What- Dad! You never told us he used to live here” Her brows shot up, her voice rising, clearly surprised by this new piece of information about her father.

Draco held up a hand defensively “Now is not a good time to go down memory lane - no memory lanes at all, actually. I don’t think it’s safe to stay here. This is Lucius’s study and even though I don’t know from which year, it would always be dangerous to run into him” he ran a hand through his white-blond hair, thinking. “I think it would be safer to go to my room in the East Wing, my parents never went there”. The only downside to that idea was that they had to go through the whole Manor, but at least they could take their time to find a solution. Maybe there would be signs of the year they were in.

His grip tightened around Cassie’s hand. Nothing mattered except getting her out of here.

“But what if you’re there? How will you explain the situation to a mini version of yourself?” Cassie asked, seriousness visible in her expression.

“I don’t know, but I’d rather run into myself than my father,” he replied thoughtfully “Just - let’s get out of here.”

Taking a deep breath, Draco took his daughter’s hand in his and opened the door.

The minute he set foot on the other side of the door he started hearing the whispers. He tried his best not to listen to them, but their voices were relentless.

“Dad, are these all your ancestors?”

“Yes - let’s try not to listen to them”

Who is this? Is this the Malfoy heir? Who’s the girl? Blond, grey eyes - features resembling his, but all so different all the same. Once, he had been proud to be the Malfoy heir - but those days were long gone.

The whispers never quieted, shadows stretched long across the walls, flickering unnaturally as if the portraits themselves held their breath.

Cassie stepped closer to him without realizing it.

“Dad…” she whispered, glancing at the portraits.

The painted figures weren’t just looking at them - they were scrutinising them.

She tightened her grip on his sleeve.

Being back here made his skin crawl. Every step felt wrong. The last thing he needed was to face Lucius - or even his mother who might not be as open-minded as she would be in the future.

“They’re talking about us.”

He squeezed her hand in his.

She knew he had been raised with Pureblood ideology, but she might not have grasped just how forbidden her parents’ relationship had once been.

Being the children of the Golden Girl - and later, the Minister of Magic - and the heir to the Malfoy and Black family, no one had ever commented on Scorpius’ or Cassie’s blood status. Pureblood Ideology hadn’t disappeared from the Wizarding world but there had been a shift.

But right now, they weren’t in that world, the one Draco cherished, the one he had watched rise from the ashes of war. They were in a time where Cassie was in real danger, especially in this Manor.

Whatever happened, he had to keep his daughter safe. She didn’t know the reality of this world - how dangerous his family could be.

They finally arrived at the entry hall. A gigantic room with marble stairs above which were the corridors to go to the West Wing and the East Wing. On the lower level, in the middle of the stairs, was a long corridor connecting to the North Wing.

“Better be silent and quick on this part, we just have to cross over,” he told Cassie.

Still holding her hand, he pulled her with him.

Facing the door to the East Wing, where his room was, Draco’s whole body froze. He heard someone walk downstairs - the sharp, unmistakable tap of a cane echoed across the hall.

Draco’s stomach dropped.

“Narcissa, darling, have you let anyone in the Manor? I’ve just received a signal that the wards have detected new incomers.”

Draco froze, his blood running cold at the sound of his father’s voice.

Draco pressed a finger to his lips, silencing her. Staying wasn’t an option. He grabbed Cassie’s hand and moved quickly, pressing her to follow him.

The manor was huge; it took them a couple of minutes to get to Draco’s room. He opened the door and closed it immediately behind him and his daughter.

If his father saw them - really saw them - there would be no talking his way out of it. He would recognize him and understand who Cassie was. He couldn’t let that happen.

He sighed in relief when, looking around the room, he realised that there were no ‘Mini Draco’, which probably meant his younger self was at Hogwarts (during the holidays, he would always be in his room).

“I hope my parents aren’t going to come here… they never did when I was younger” he whispered, glancing nervously at the time-turner “it gives us just enough time to figure out the exact date we’re in and to understand how the time-turner works.” He looked at the object still in his hand.

“Would it be so bad if we came across Nana and Lucius?” Cassie asked innocently.

“Yes” he said at once, “You don’t know - you can’t imagine how much he would disapprove of the life I have and -“memories from his past - his father’s death - flashed through his mind. He swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to find his composure. “It would be very bad Cassie. You’re also the very first and only heiress of the Malfoys. I’m not quite sure how he’d react to that information" He kept his voice steady.

“I guess, yeah,” Cassie told him with a scowl, unsure what to make of the information he had just shared.

Looking around his childhood room, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He had so many memories here – good and bad: days spent playing with Theo and Pansy as children, entire nights crying in his bed after his father had torn him down, or after Voldemort had tortured him with the Cruciatus Curse following a failed Death Eater mission.

Every piece of furniture was made of dark oak, and the only other colours in the room were Slytherin green and silver - bed linen, curtains, rug.

It was so different from the warm home Hermione, and he had built over the past few years.

“You sure were a proud Slytherin, Dad,” Cassie let out a laugh, standing in the middle of the room and looking around.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Hanging on the wall in the corner of his room, he spotted a poster of the Bulgarian Quidditch team, signed by the entire squad. He remembered putting it up after the Quidditch Championship in August 1994, and then thoroughly destroying it in December 1994 after the team’s captain had asked Draco’s crush to the Yule Ball.

Seeing Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger together at the dance had driven him mad, and he spent the entire evening complaining to a - completely annoyed and fed-up - Pansy Parkinson.

It had, however, given him the courage to approach Hermione that day and finally talk to her about his feelings.

“Okay, the good news is we’re somewhere around September or October 1994, before Voldemort moved in,” he breathed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

Cassie looked relieved as well. She had heard all the stories about Lord Voldemort during her childhood, and she didn’t want to ever come across him. She glanced at her father’s belongings.

“Is this a picture of Uncle Theo and you?” she asked, pulling him out of his memories. She was holding a silver frame in her hand. Draco took it and looked at the moving picture of two young boys, very serious in their Slytherin uniforms. It had been taken in the Slytherin dungeons, a few days after the Sorting of their first year.

“Yes, but we need to focus. There has to be something here that can get us home.”

“I don’t know where to look” Cassie’s voice wavered. “I don’t know anything about this time.”

“Then help me figure it out,” he asked, holding out the time-turner.

“We’re not stuck here. Not for good. Let’s try to understand how it works.”

They both looked at it. It seemed considerably more complex than the one Hermione had told him about. He also remembered that hers could only go a few hours or minutes into the past - this one could clearly go much further.

“How did Mum use it?” Cassie asked.

“I don’t know. We weren’t together yet when she had it. I’ve never seen her use it,” he admitted, trying to concentrate on the object in front of him, focusing on everything his wife had told him about her experiences with time-turners. “It can’t be that difficult,” he muttered. ‘Three rings around the centrepiece… years, months, days. Simple enough - if you think about it carefully.” This type of time-turner must be used for longer journeys; hours and minutes aren’t important for this sort of time travel.

“I think we’re in 1994, probably September or October,” he analysed. “So we’ve gone back about thirty-three years and ten months. I just need the exact date, and we’ll be good to go,” he said with a smile.

He wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but nothing would be worse than staying here - especially knowing that his father suspected someone was in the Manor. Hopefully, no one had seen them run to this room.

“Maybe we could find a letter, or a newspaper lying around somewhere,” Cassie suggested.

“I know I had a self-adjusting calendar somewhere, but I don’t remember where,” Draco replied, rifling through the drawers of his desk.

“So,” Cassie began, “you weren’t with Mum when she had the time-turner. October 1994, you were in your fourth year… were you and Mum together by then?”

“No.”

“When did you get together exactly?” she asked.

“Later…”

“Later when?” she pressed.

“Cassie, now is not the time for an interrogation. Just help me figure out which date it is,” Draco breathed, frustrated, scanning the papers on his desk. Cleaning and organising had never really been his priority back in the day.

“But you never tell us anything about your life! When we were young, you said you would tell us later, but you never did. All we know is that you got together with Mum when you were at Hogwarts, before the battle, and that your father died during the war. You’re so secretive,” Cassie accused him.

He spun toward her and took her hands in his. “Honey, sweetie - I understand that you have questions, and your mother and I will gladly answer all of them,” he paused. “Once we’re back home,” his voice severe. “Understood?”

And in a way that reminded him so much of Hermione, Cassie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him. ‘You’re being secretive again,’ she said.

“I’m not secretive, I’m protective,” he replied, placing his hands on her shoulders, wanting to shake her slightly to make her understand the importance of the situation.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Draco?” His father’s voice called.

And once again, his whole body froze.

_____

His heart thudded violently against his ribs, ears ringing with adrenaline. He stood there, trapped in the moment. His grip on her shoulders tightened as panic crept in.

After the war, Draco spent years trying to heal. Countless sessions with a Mind Healer. Lucius had rarely been physically violent, but the psychological pressure was relentless. After failing the assignment to kill Dumbledore, Draco felt the weight of Lucius’ venomous words even more.

His voice sliced through the silence again. “Draco, the wards detected someone. I know you’re there,” he heard Lucius’s voice through the door.

The room, familiar and yet alien, seemed to shrink around them, closing in with each of Lucius’ words.

“Hide,” he whispered urgently.

Cassie’s eyes darted around the room, panic prickling her skin. With no time to think, she dove under the bed, heart hammering.

“And I know there is a girl in there with you - the portrait of your great-grandfather told me.”

Cassie froze, then turned to her father, who stood rigid, fear written all over his face.

“You had better have a good reason for being in your room with a girl and not at Hogwarts, Draco Lucius Malfoy.” Followed by three deep, loud knocks on the door.

Draco took a deep breath. He was trapped. He grabbed his wand, which had been resting against his arm in his sleeve.

“Do you have yours?” he asked his daughter. She nodded.

Draco’s wand felt heavy in his hand, as if it already sensed what was coming.

Draco shut his eyes, forcing every thought away. The memories clawed at him, but he shoved them aside, letting only focus and determination remain.

“Occlumency,” Cassie whispered.

“I’ll teach you one day,” he said through his teeth. He tried to sound reassuring, but the tension in his voice betrayed him. “Let’s do this. Stay behind me.”

He walked slowly towards the door, the loud knocking echoing through the room.

His hand hovered over the handle for a moment. His chest tightened. Then, decisively, he grabbed the doorknob.

Despite the Occlumency shielding his mind, Draco froze. His father - tall, sharp, a ghost from memories he thought he had buried - stood before him, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch.

“Father.” His voice did not waver.

The last time he had seen him, he had been seventeen - skinny, frail, the stress of the impending war making it difficult for him to eat.

Now taller and broader than his father, he knew this must have been as much a shock to him as it was to Draco.

“Draco?” Lucius whispered.

A beat. Then Lucius drew his wand from his cane. Draco raised his in one swift movement. Wands nearly touching, they stood locked in a silent standoff, each breath shallow, muscles taut, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Who are you?” Lucius spat.

“You can’t even recognise your own son?” Draco asked through gritted teeth.

Lucius glanced at him, his stare intense, as if reading him.

“My son is fourteen and currently at Hogwarts. I don’t know who you are, but you’re certainly not welcome.”

Draco took a deep breath, keeping his emotions under control. His grip on his wand tightened.

“I found a time-turner in your study, it brought us here” Draco said, eyes locked on his father. “We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“We?” Lucius asked. “There is a girl with you.”

“Indeed, who she is doesn’t concern you.”

Lucius let out a humourless laugh.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not a fool,” he sneered, pushing the tip of his wand further into Draco’s neck, nearly choking him. “Who are you and who’s with you in the room?”

Draco swallowed hard, forcing calm over the adrenaline threatening to take over.

“I told you, I am-”

Cassie appeared from behind the door, the time-turner in her hand. “It’s true! Look - the time-turner we used is here. If you want proof, there should be a second one in your study!”

A beat. Stillness settled between them.

Draco couldn’t take his eyes off Lucius, wary of any sudden movement.

Lucius’s gaze shifted to Cassie.

His young girl - clever, innocent - under her father’s gaze. His worst nightmare.

“Interesting… you favour the young ones, don’t you?” Lucius’s smirk didn’t reach his cold eyes.

“Don’t even look at her,” he warned.

In a swift movement, Lucius stepped back, lowering his wand slightly, though keeping it trained on Draco.

“As unbelievable as it sounds, I do believe you. The wards have detected a Malfoy heir, and the portraits of your ancestors have confirmed it.”

The tension he had been carrying lifted. Could it really be that easy?

“Just tell us the exact date, and we’ll be off.”

Lucius laughed at that, Draco’s request sounding absurd.

“Of course not. You’re a Slytherin, you’d understand how valuable it is to have someone who knows the future.”

“No,” Draco replied. “It just makes me dangerous.”

His chest tightened with fear. He was ready to do anything to get out of here, but saying anything about the future might alter it. Forever.

Lucius’s gaze shifted, pointing his wand at Cassie.

“Perhaps she is valuable to you,” he said, his eyes locked on Cassie.

“What is your name, little girl?”

“Don’t answ-”

“My name is Cassie. All we want is to go back to our present.”

She raised her hands in defence.

Though he knew she carried her wand in her sleeve as well, he wondered if she’d be able to protect herself if Lucius attacked?

“Your last name, witch,” Lucius asked expectantly.

Cassie remained silent.

She froze, mind blank. Every name felt like a lie. One wrong word, and they’d know. Lucius knew all the noble families in the wizarding world. If she invented a name, he would assume she was Muggleborn. Considering the beliefs of the man in front of her, that was not a good idea either.

Draco took a small breath, trying to release some of the tension.

“Malfoy,” he answered for her. “Cassiopeia Malfoy. Are you satisfied now? Let us go.”

He was lying. Her name was Cassiopeia Granger Malfoy Black. He had taken his mother’s name after the war. He had wanted his children to carry Hermione’s name. Some details were better left unsaid.

Lucius studied him with a scowl, disbelief and confusion written all over his features.

“It can’t be.”

“Lucius, have you found Draco?” he heard from the end of the hall - the smooth, soft voice of Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco barely suppressed a grim smile - family reunions never unfolded this dramatically.

“It seems I have, my dear,” Lucius said, glancing at his wife. Tension not leaving his voice.

“What are you doing with your wand out?” she asked, stepping in front of the door, clearly not expecting to see her fully grown son. When she looked at him, her eyes widened in shock.

“Draco?”

“That’s what he says.”

Narcissa’s hand shot out, seizing Lucius’s wand and lowering it from where it was still trained on Draco.

“Of course it’s him, Lucius,” she said, then turning to Draco, “What happened?” Her eyes finally shifted to Cassie, who was still standing behind her father. “And who are you?”

Narcissa turned her gaze to the young girl standing behind Draco. She studied her for a long moment - her appearance, her hair, her expressions. While he feared she might react negatively, like his father, a smile spread across his mother’s lips. She turned back to him, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Your… daughter?” she asked.

No judgement in her voice.

“Yes,” Draco said, looking at her, inspecting her carefully.

“Oh, Draco, I’m so happy for you!” she exclaimed, cupping his cheeks in her hands. He was so much taller than her, yet she seemed unconcerned by the age difference.

“You’re such a handsome man, my little dragon,” she whispered affectionately. Then she turned to Cassie: “And you are a beautiful young lady. What’s your name, dear?”

“Cassie. My full name is Cassiopeia”

“Cassiopeia,” Narcissa repeated in a soft breath. “What a beautiful constellation.”

His mother’s voice was so warm, so full of affection. For a moment, he let his guard down, forgetting his father. His shoulders relaxed.

“A daughter, Narcissa,” Lucius spat, his voice calm but seething with hatred.

“You know what this means. This is a disgrace to the Malfoy heirloom!” His gaze flickered toward Draco, raising his wand again. “Tell me - is she a bastard born out of wedlock, or did you decide to have several children because you couldn’t keep it in your pants?”

“Lucius!” Narcissa faced her husband sharply.

“I’m only stating the truth,” he said, “turning your back on generations of Malfoy tradition.”

He moved closer to Cassie again, pointing his wand at her as he walked forward.

With every step he took, Cassie stepped back.

“Who’s your mother?” he asked sharply. “Blonde hair… maybe a Greengrass?”

Lucius’s wand inched toward Cassie, deliberate and slow.

Her chest tightened, throat locked. For a heartbeat, her wand felt miles away, and fear rooted her in place.

He would actually hurt me.

Her fingers twitched toward her wand, but she didn’t dare reach for it.

“Dad…” she whispered.

Something snapped. Draco didn’t think, he just acted.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted. The spell struck Lucius with a sharp crack, knocking him backward into the wall. Pain contorted his face, and the room fell silent, save for Draco’s ragged breathing and Cassie’s held-back sobs.

Draco moved between them, facing his father. “I said - don’t touch her.”

Not loud. Not shouted.

But deadly.

“My life, her life. None of this is your concern!”

“I think it is,” Lucius said, slowly rising from where he had fallen. “If you couldn’t help yourself by sullying the Malfoy name, bringing bastards into a respectable family…”

He picked up his wand and pointed it at Draco again.

Cassie had taken the opportunity to slip behind her father. Narcissa remained at the threshold of the door, watching the scene unfold before her. Analysing.

“Nothing about you is respectable,” Draco shot back at his father.

“Your pure-blood beliefs are full of shite,” he continued. “In our present, no one believes in them anymore.”

Both froze. A chill ran down his back. If Lucius had too much information, it might meddle with the future.

Regaining his composure, Lucius replied, “Your world may differ, but here, the Dark Lord will rise again. We are not the same and never will be.”

Eyeing him from head to toe, he added, “And I wouldn’t want to live in yours!” Disgust was visible on his face, his nose flaring.

Narcissa Malfoy chose this moment to interrupt them.

She walked into the room with confidence, stopping in the middle of the two of them. Turning to Draco, who immediately dropped his wand.

“I see you’ve mastered Occlumency. Who taught you?”

“You?” he replied, unsure.

“I’ve been teaching you ever since you were a little boy, and yet you haven’t fully mastered it. Someone else must have helped you.”

He looked down, silent. He had already said too much. Bellatrix had taught him, and Snape too, when he had learned about Hermione and Draco’s relationship - a secret that had to remain hidden, especially from all the residents living at the Manor at that time.

Narcissa studied him, looking into his eyes, as if searching for his soul beneath the Occlumency.

His mother had shown remarkable understanding when he told her he was in love with Hermione. She had already lost her sister to the very beliefs that had shaped their families - she refused to lose her son to them as well.

Suddenly, she grabbed his left hand - the one not holding his wand. Narcissa’s fingers trembled as she pushed his sleeve up.

Then she went completely still.

“Draco…”

Her voice broke.

She didn’t touch the mark.

She couldn’t.

He tried to maintain his Occlumency, barely keeping it in place.

Swiftly, he withdrew his hand from his mother’s grasp, rolling down his sleeve and looking away. The mark never faded, carrying with it the horrors of the war.

“How old were you when you got it?”

“Sixteen,” he breathed.

Narcissa’s eyes watered as she stared, filled with emotion.

“That’s in two years… you’re just a boy,” she exhaled.

Probably dipping into her own Occlumency abilities, she stepped toward her husband.

“How could you?” she said accusingly, looking at Lucius.

Lucius, for his part, didn’t look pleased either. He walked toward Draco again, bypassing his wife.

“If you carry the mark, it means he came back but failed in his mission.” His eyes were full of fury. “Tell me how I can avoid it.”

His wand hovered at his neck again. Cassie and Narcissa watched them with wide eyes.

“Never,” Draco answered. “I’m not fourteen anymore. You don’t scare me. I’m stronger than you. I’m better than you in every single sense of the word. Voldemort isn’t going to survive, and neither will you.” Venom dripped from his voice. He wanted to hurt him, to destroy his beliefs.
Narcissa gasped in surprise.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. You’re going to fail every mission you undertake and die like the coward you are.”

“You carry the Dark Lord’s mark on your arm. You are a Death Eater just as much as I am.”

“I pledged allegiance to the Order the minute I was allowed to. Carrying the mark doesn’t mean anything if I don’t believe in it.”

“You’re a disgrace.”

“I’d rather be a disgrace to the family than be like you.”

He came closer, jaw tight, “You disgust me.”

“So. Do. You,” Draco breathed through his teeth.

The tension electrified the room.

“Now, will you two stop?” Narcissa demanded again, lowering the wands with her hands. “I don’t know what will happen, nor do I want to know. This is a serious matter - we just need to help them get back to their present, Lucius.”

Lucius huffed. “He is too valuable… he could help me save the Dark Lord.”

“Lucius, hearing what Draco has told us, wouldn’t you rather consider joining the Order’s side right now?”

Lucius stared at her, stone-faced. He didn’t take his wife seriously - her proposal was so far from the beliefs his family had instilled in him since childhood.

He could feel Lucius’ eyes cutting through him, stripping away the years and seeing only the boy he once was.

Abruptly, he shifted to face Cassie, wand raised “You!” raising in voice. “You must know about the future, young girl,” Lucius warned.

Cassie froze again, hiding behind Draco.

“Don’t talk to her!”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t to exchange too much with your progeny, Draco,” he sneered, disgust written all over his face.

“Lucius,” Narcissa said, warning him, “this is our granddaughter.”

“I couldn’t care less.”

“You know, I always thought you might have changed with time. Meeting your grandchildren-” Draco laughed, humourless under his breath. “I was stupid enough to hope that seeing me happy would make you reassess your limited beliefs.”

Lucius didn’t react, taking Draco’s words in.

But he needed to see him react. He craved the sight of his father’s hatred - the very same hatred he had known so well in his childhood, haunted him in nightmares, and occasionally stared back at him from the mirror, reminding him of every mistake he had ever made.

Something in him just snapped.

“If you want to know the truth, I’ll tell you. Right now, sitting in class at Hogwarts, your son is trying to find a way to ask Hermione Granger out. After I’d bullied her for years,” he insisted. “In second year, after calling her a ‘filthy Mudblood,’ I was punished. I had to write an essay about Muggles. I didn’t know anything, except that they were weak and disgusting.” He pointed accusingly at Lucius. “What you had told me!”

“But Hermione wasn’t disgusting, and certainly not weak. A brilliant witch, really. It just… didn’t make sense. I asked her questions about them, and she helped me understand.”

He swallowed, lost in memories of the past.

“I realised you lied. Muggles created wonders without magic, using science and technology - things you can’t even imagine,” he said, looking at Lucius with a scowl.

“I fell in love with her, and in a few months, she’ll return my feelings, making me the happiest man alive.” He smiled, feeling his daughter’s hand on his arm.

“Cassie is Hermione’s daughter. We have a son as well, Scorpius”. His gaze shifted to his daughter, heart beating. “A Muggleborn and a Pureblood - everything I should be against - but nothing has ever felt as right as this.”

“Dad,” Cassie whispered. Her presence was a constant anchor, but her small grip on his sleeve couldn’t hide the fear twisting in his gut.

He gave her a reassuring smile. He had been brainwashed as a child, but nothing would ever make him doubt his heart today.

There was silence. No one knew what to say or expect.

“Maybe I should kill you now… and send my son to Durmstrang, where he’d be taught proper magic,” Lucius said darkly. Raising his wand towards his son.

His mother placed herself in front of him, protective. She stood in front of him, drawing her wand and holding it steady, aimed at Lucius. Her gaze didn’t waver, full of quiet defiance and the promise to shield the generations that would follow.

“You will not kill your son, nor touch a single hair of your granddaughter, do you hear me?”

“Narcissa,” he hissed at his wife, “you don’t understand. The Black family has no direct heir anymore. This is in the name of the Malfoys -”

“I perfectly understand what is happening, Lucius. I will not lose my son to your iodeology.”

Lucius just stared at her for a moment.

His attention shifted to Draco, threatening.

He moved, wand raised. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into a moment of unavoidable confrontation.

Draco’s wand shot forward. “Restricto!”

The spell hit Lucius, who staggered violently, clawing at the air before collapsing with a harsh gasp. Silence fell, broken only by Draco’s ragged breathing and Cassie’s small sobs of relief.

Draco approached him. He was a couple of inches taller than his father, invading his space, looking down at him.

“I won’t kill you,” Draco said, voice cold. “Not because I fear you… but because I don’t need to. And I won’t let the future change because of you.”

“The 2nd of May 1997, I told you all this already. Or I will, in your future. I think I was already hoping back then that you’d change your mind. You didn’t.” He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, run over by emotions even Occlumency couldn’t hide. “I was wandless. I told you I was in love with Hermione Granger.” Memories flashed through his mind.

“You tried to kill me,” Draco said.

The room fell quiet.

“And someone stopped you.”

His jaw tightened.

“You didn’t survive.”

Again, he heard his mother’s gasp, followed by his daughter’s. He had never told her his story.

He closed his eyes, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had lived this moment a thousand times in his nightmares. He could never get over it - he had to learn to live with it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, looking down, his chest tightening. “Some days I regret the decisions I’ve made. Sometimes I think I should have kept my mouth shut, never told you what I believed. What would my life have been, if I had stayed silent? But now I see it clearly - you could never have accepted me, not my life, not who I’ve become.”

He looked Lucius in the eyes. “If I hadn’t told you that day, it wouldn’t have changed anything. You would never have changed, and you would have died in Azkaban, alone. At least I spared you that.”

Lucius opened his mouth to speak. But before any sound could escape, Draco raised his wand and muttered a simple, “Stupefy.”

His father fell, unconscious.

Draco knelt beside him, pressing the tip of his wand to Lucius’ forehead.

“Goodbye, Father,” he breathed, “Obliviate.”

He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. A moment passed.

He got up and faced his mother.

“Mother, what’s today’s date?”

“October 14”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling slightly at her. “I hope you understand I’ll have to do the same to you.”

“Of course, Draco,” she said, placing her hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know where I am in the future, if I’m still alive or if we still speak, but I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you. You’ve become a wonderful man, with a wonderful family.”

She brought her hands down and took Cassie’s.

“I don’t know you yet, Cassiopeia… but I hope, one day, I will.”

Cassie smiled, nodding.

“Thank you, Mother.” He replied, a deep gratitude toward Narcissa settling in his chest -she had always stood by him, no matter the time, no matter who he had been.

He pressed the tip of his wand to her forehead.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” he breathed, readying himself for the spell.

But then he spoke, unable to keep it in. “Her full name is Cassiopeia Andromeda, after my beloved aunt - the one you introduced me to after the war.”

She smiled at him brightly. Emotions written all over her face, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Obliviate.”

Narcissa fell back, and Draco caught her in his arms, gently laying her down on the ground next to his father.

He turned to Cassie. “We’ll discuss this in a minute, but we have to be quick - your grandmother will wake up in a few minutes.”

Cassie nodded, handing him the time-turner. He took it.

“Okay, October 14. This means we have to go 33 years, 9 months and 13 days into the future.” He adjusted the circles of the time-turner accordingly.

The ticking of the object began.

He took his daughter in his arms, the time-turner in his right hand, wand stowed in his sleeve.

They had to find their way back to the present - no matter what. The thought of failure flickered through Draco’s mind. What if they found themselves in the middle of the war? In the manor, trapped among Death Eaters? Or worse… in a parallel world that would never let them go home.

“Let’s hope this works,” he muttered, resting his cheek atop his daughter’s head, waiting.

The time-turner’s ticking filled the silence, each beat tightening the knot in his stomach. Then darkness swallowed them whole.

_____

He opened his eyes again, his daughter still clinging to his clothes.

“We’re back, Cassie,” he whispered, easing her into the present. But she didn’t let go - instead, she clung to him, as if letting go might undo everything. She finally gave in, sobbing as she lowered her head against her father’s chest, tears pouring freely.

Instead of letting go, she wrapped her arms around her father.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” she whispered, burying her face against him. “I didn’t know… I didn’t understand how awful it was, and… and-”

He put his hand on her cheek, gently wiping away her tears.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s all in the past,” he said tenderly.

“But all you had to go through with Mum…”

“And just looking at you makes me very glad that we did.”

She sobbed into his chest. “I love you, Dad.”

Draco smiled, feeling as if he died a little every time one of his children said that. Now that they were both teenagers, it had become a rather rare occurrence.

“I love you too, sweetie,” he replied, comforting her.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell your Nana what just happened, okay?” he added.

"I’m sorry for making you wait, but I promise I’ll answer all of your questions tomorrow - after I’ve told your Mum what happened,” he explained.

“She’s going to be so mad at me,” she said, stepping out of her father’s embrace and wiping away her tears.

They heard steps and chatter coming from the corridor. Both tensed at the sound but felt immediate relief when Hermione’s and Narcissa’s faces appeared from behind the door.

Cassie muttered a quick “Scourgify,” to hide her tears. Draco pocketed the time-turner.

“Oh, there you are! We were wondering where you’d gone after we couldn’t find you in the study,” Narcissa said.

As she regained control of her emotions, Cassie ran to her grandmother, arms flinging around her. “I love you, Nana!”

Narcissa blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden affection, then smiled warmly. “And I love you, my darling.”

Then Cassie whirled to her mother. “I love you too, Mum!”

Hermione scooped her up, holding her tight as if she’d never let go.

Scorpius hovered at the back, arms crossed, wary of Cassie’s energy.

“Don’t even think about hugging me,” he warned.

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Fine, you’re insufferable… probably the worst brother ever. But I still love you.”

“Ugh,” he moaned, but she could see the hint of a smile on Scorpius’ normally stoic face.

He turned around, with Cassie following close behind.

Narcissa chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Children,” she murmured fondly, trailing after them.

Hermione looked at Draco, eyebrow arched. “What on earth just happened?”

Draco drew her close, pressing a long, fervent kiss to her lips. “I’ll explain everything later… but I love you, Hermione.”

Hermione laughed. “You’ll have to tell me later, yes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Malfoys say so many ‘I love yous’ in such a short space of time!” she smiled at him. “But I love you too!”

She took his hand and pulled him along. “Now come with me - we were looking for you, because it’s time for dessert.”

_____

Later that day, Draco was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

It had been an emotional day. The tension in his shoulders, the only reminder of what had happened. He had talked to Cassie before going to bed, telling her to wake him if she had trouble sleeping. If only he could fall asleep...

The whole day still felt so real, yet at the same time, already a distant memory.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom in her Gryffindor-red nightgown.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, climbing into bed next to him, their king-size bed welcoming them both.

Draco breathed deeply, calming himself. “Let’s just say… Cassie took a stroll down memory lane.”

“You talked to her about our past?” Hermione gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.

“No, I mean - literally. Cassie found a time-turner, and we jumped back in time, nearly thirty-four years ago.”

Hermione froze. Then, after a long pause, she laughed, half in disbelief, half in exasperation. “You’re joking.”

He tensed, “I’m not joking, Hermione. Ask her tomorrow what she thinks of my father if you don’t believe me,” he scoffed, serious.

He glanced at her. She stared back, confusion written all over her face.

“You’re telling me our 14-year-old daughter jumped back in time with you and met your racist father?”

He nodded. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“And you’re not kidding me?”

“No.”

He could see his wife’s brown eyes taking in the information: disbelief, shock, anger, concern… and then anger again.

“Godric, Draco, how could you not tell me right away?” she snapped, leaning slightly forward to look him in the eye. He could see the fire of a concerned mother burning in her gaze.

“If I’d told you at the Manor, chaos would’ve erupted. Cassie would’ve panicked, and nothing would have gone right.”

“I wouldn’t have!”

“You would have, and you know it. You’d have freaked out, freaking out Cassie, who was already on edge. And then my mother would have known - and that’s the last thing we wanted.” Calm, controlled. He knew he was right.

“You have no self-control regarding the kids,” he teased.

“And you do?”

“Yeah. I was so cool when we went back in time. Got everything under control,” he smirked confidently.

She rolled her eyes, knowing he was lying. His father… it had always been a complicated memory to deal with.

“Well, if you’re both back, safe and sound, I guess everything went alright?”

“More or less,” he answered, his voice flat. “I saw… him. I was so scared for Cassie.” He exhaled, lost in thought. He feared for his daughter, but for himself as well.

Returning to the Manor of his youth had forced him to see it for what it truly was: cold, oppressive, almost suffocating, before Narcissa had reshaped it into something liveable. It felt as though his ancestors still haunted its walls, watching him, judging his every move. All the same, generation after generation, steeped in the rigid ideology of pure-blood supremacy.

Hermione waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“I’ve spent the last 30 years wondering what if I hadn’t told him about us - would he have really killed me? Today I realised… he would have.”

Memories crashed over him, each one a weight in his chest. His throat burned, his eyes stung, and a single tear carved a path down his cheek.

Hermione placed a hand on his chest.

“Draco… I’m sorry you had to face him again.”

“It’s fine… I’ll be fine, I think,” he said, swallowing hard, managing a small smile.

Recovery was a process.

“I told Cassie we’d answer her questions tomorrow. We should tell Scorpius as well.”

“Of course.”

She hugged him, resting her head on his chest.

They stayed like that for a moment, finding comfort in each other’s presence. He played with her curls - a habitual gesture that soothed him. The only sound in the room was their shared breathing.

After a while, Hermione got up and turned off the light.

She hugged her husband again. “Wake me up if you have a nightmare.”

He turned his head and kissed her forehead - a silent thanks you for her constant support.

“My mother-” he started.

Hermione hummed, prompting him to continue.

“She was angry at all the shite Lucius was saying. You should have seen her face… she could have killed him right on the spot.”

He felt Hermione smile. She was quite fond of her mother-in-law.

“I stupefied him in the end. I didn’t want things to escalate… to risk meddling with the future.”

Hermione placed her hand on his chest again.

“It wasn’t the time yet, but she got her revenge a few years later,” Draco smiled in the dark.

“Thank God she was there to save you that day,” Hermione murmured into his chest.

“Yes. She’d do everything to protect me… “

“Protective of their children. Runs in the family,” she commented, half-asleep.

“I guess it does,” he smiled again. “Goodnight, my love.”

He closed his eyes.