A/N: This is my submission as a final entry for the Ollivander's Challenge for Simplypotterheads. The theme/prompt was History of Magic – and I played on that idea and theme for it in this submission. This is a transition fic, between the OTP and Next Generation.

Rated T for part III only – and even then it's tame for what I normally write.

My Solicitor (who is currently in San Francisco enjoying the sun and chasing job opportunities) wanted me to remind everyone that I don't own copyright or IP for HP, the Weasley family, the Malfoys, or even anything on Diagon Alley. I would like to try a bowl of the ice crème from Fortescue's if I was there… - DG

"Do you have everything?"

"Of course I do." Hermione held up her new satchel. Ron understood her insistence on carrying a second bag with her now – for the kid's things. Her natty beaded bag was tucked onto her other hip. "Do you have the kids ready?"

Hermione stepped into their kitchen and saw two mops of hair sitting at the table finishing their breakfast. "Hi Mummy!" Hugo held up his spoon and flung a few drops of milk in the kitchen. She pulled her wand and cleaned it before he could take the next bite of his breakfast. Hermione looked at Rose across the table, finishing her toast and jam while reading another book.

"Rose, finish breakfast and put away the book. You can read it once we get back home this afternoon."

Rose rolled her eyes and grudgingly closed the book.

Ron walked back into the kitchen with a folder containing all of the papers Rose needed. "I've got her list with me, along with the documents for Gringott's. That shouldn't take too long."

"You hope," Hermione muttered while taking a last sip of tea. Some of the older goblins in Gringott's still held them in disdain all these years later. "But if it does, I'll stay in line while you take the kids by to see George and Angelina."

"Yes, dear. We talked about it last night. It's sorted."

Ron looked at his two kids at the table looking rather sullen. "And if you two act well enough, we'll stop at Fortescue's for some ice lollies."

The kids cheered while Hermione rolled her eyes. "Guess that means I need to get out more galleons if we're eating lunch at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Of course. We've not seen Hannah in a while, I reckon, and it'll be nice for the kids to have some fun out in public."

Hermione shook her head while she picked up her purse and walked towards the back door. "Let's get going. We're wasting time this morning."

Hermione left the house first, followed by the kids and Ron last, locking up their residence. They were apparating to London with the kids doing side-along apparition. "Hey, wait up."

Hermione stopped and turned around to look at her husband. "What?" she huffed with a pout.

Ron walked up and kissed her. "We've got all day. Relax," he whispered in her ear. "I know you're stressed but let's make the most of today. Yeah?"

Hermione saw two sets of blue eyes looking at her. Both were excited for a day in London. She looked back at the third set, the one that made her knees give way slightly. "You're right. It's not like we're driving four hours into London, just popping in and back home this evening."

Ron kissed her nose before pulling Hugo to him. "Isn't magic grand?" Ron winked at her before he and Hugo apparated out.

"Showoffs," she muttered.

"Mummy? I'm ready to go?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione took her daughter's hand and apparated to London.

"That'll be fifteen galleons, eight sickles."

Hermione handed over the coins to the clerk behind the counter and picked up the small pile of books. "The books cost more now than when I went to school." She looked at the stack which included the one for Professor Binns class, A History of Magic. "At least some texts haven't changed in the last few years."

"Some of the books have been updated since you went. History books revised and new additions to spell books. There's a few additional texts that are for students to read now, including in Muggle studies."

"Did I miss one?" Hermione rummaged into her purse for the list again. "I thought I had all of them on her list."

"Oh, no. It's not required reading, at least not yet for your first year student. But we do have in the updated revised release of Hogwarts, a History over in the front window. It came in Monday." The clerk smiled before pointing at the stack of tomes in the front window. "All NEWT students have to read it regardless of class as well as the History of Magic book. Headmistress McGonagall had the governors agree to that proclamation years ago. They didn't want history repeating itself."

"Is that the one – "

"Yes, it's the one with the war in it, along with the post-war restoration and reconstruction. There's also some commentaries and essays in it."

Hermione smirked at the last one, since she wrote a few for it. "I think I'll go look at it and maybe purchase it today."

"Very good, ma'am."

Hermione took the stack of books out of the store and handed them to her husband. He, along with the kids, were sitting in front of Fortescue's Ice Crème Parlour next door while indulging in huge bowls of what appeared to be green and brown chocolate ice crème.

"When the kids are awake at half ten, running around like over-hyper hippogriffs, you can deal with them."

Ron looked up from his own oversized bowl of ice crème and smiled. All three smiles up at her were chocolate stained and terribly bright as well as messy. "The kids wanted a snack after lunch so I said sure. And this ice crème is wonderful. It's called Marsh Pond ice crème: mint ice crème with a chocolate swirl, candy lily pads and little chocolate frogs in it. See?"

Hermione looked at it and cringed. "Looks disgusting. How can you eat that?"

"It's great Mummy. Here!"

Hermione couldn't refuse a spoonful from Hugo and took a bite. She let the flavors swirl over her tongue before making her decision. "It tastes better than it looks, that's for certain."

"Pull up a chair and stay a few."

"No, you enjoy the ice crème. I'm going back in Flourish and Blotts and looking at the new publishing of Hogwarts, A History."

"Another one?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Why yes. This one is the one I contributed several articles and wrote a few essays in it. They wanted something from Harry but you know he doesn't talk about it at all. So they asked for my input since neither your or Harry were the least interested. I didn't expect them to have it out in the store before Christmas, honestly."

Ron grinned and showed off his chocolate coated smile. "Well, go on, I know we're keeping you from it. And I know you have the galleons for it, too."

Hermione smirked. "You'd think that they'd have given me at least one copy of my own without having to pay for it."

"Are you kidding? Now? That's a laugh. Everything costs, even for you." Ron waved his spoon. "Only Neville gets the freebies now, and that's only from Hannah since they are married."

Hermione waved her husband off with his rather astute observation. "True. I'll be back in a minute. I just want to get it and then we can go get her cauldron and the Apothecary for potions ingredients."

"Daddy, I want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies when we get done."

Hermione smiled as she returned to Flourish and Blott for the book in question.

It was a testimony to her and Ron's parenting that the kids could talk Quidditch, and friends, and indulging in ice crème with not a care in the world. The kids laughed so easily, whether with their father when he brought safe things home to try out with the kids, or whether they were running out in the back yard with their cousins.

Hermione stepped back into the store and made her way to the front where the books showed in the window.

The kids slept well, comforted by them protecting them as best as they could. Ron did his duty to the Ministry, working as an Auror. Hermione continued in the Law Service, working her way up in the department. They only had innocent children's nightmares, unlike the ones that still haunted them to this day. They didn't have to think about vile werewolves, or vicious witches, or a tyrant bent on genocide.

They had all they needed, only complaining about wants in their life like their cousins. Ron indulged them but she did too, in her own ways. No, they only complained about their sibling touching them, or not getting a new toy like their cousin had or that they didn't travel as much as their uncle Bill and Charlie did.

But the time would come when the kids would start asking questions. Hermione hoped they had a few more months before the questions started. Their actions when they were kids were consigned to the history books, for better or worse. Thankfully some of the more gratuitous and embarrassing episodes in their lives were either ignored or glossed over.

One night a few months back, they discussed it in the comfort of their bed. They agreed to tell the kids when they started asking questions. There would be no lies, no hiding it except the occasional 'We'll tell you, just not yet.'

Rose knew a little more, but what she knew was shielded in fairy tales and fantasy stories, about a prince and princess who helped the boy hero slay the fiend and rescue the country from the evil sorcerer. Their history was veiled in fantasy and bedtime tales. Children's tales helped them learn their stories, fantastic as they were, so when the time was right for telling them the truth, they'd accept it willingly.

She stepped up to the pile of books stacked in the window. They were leather bound, with gold edges on the ends of the paper. Hermione picked one up and looked at it. Gold enamel paint embossed in the grooves of the pressing and binding on the spine. Hogwarts, a History stood out on the brown leather of the cover. She opened the book and caught a whiff of the parchment, taking her back to the first time she opened her first copy of Hogwarts, A History – a gift from McGonagall when she was presented with her admissions letter all those years ago. Flashbacks of when she was just learning of this world that she was most comfortable in, naïve to the strangeness and occasional horrors that confronted such a precocious and pretentious child. Trolls and Devil's snare weren't even in her consideration the first time she opened such a treasured tome.

She quickly scanned the title page, along the publishing information on the next one. 14th Edition, with additional essays and commentary from noted academic and legal scholars of the modern era.

Hermione laughed at that one. She could pass for a legal scholar of this era, if she thought about it. Then again, -

"Excuse me," a small voice spoke to her. Hermione pulled her nose out of the tome to see a well-dressed young man, around Rose's age, standing politely in front of her. "May I?"

"Oh, hello. Would you like this copy?" She handed over the book to the humble young man.

He's seemed tall for his age, about as tall as Rose is, which puts him about three inches shorter than her. Where her Rose is outspoken and loud like her father, this young man was shy and quiet, preferring to look at her chin rather than make eye contact.

"I know you. You're Hermione Granger." He finally looked up, glancing at her through his pale blond lashes. "My parents have mentioned you on occasion." He looked around the store for a moment and looked back at the witch before him. "I've seen your face in the newspaper too."

Hermione stood in front of the young man, regarding him astutely. There was something about him that seemed almost familiar. "Why, yes, I am. What is your name, if I might ask?"

The young man, who stood to her nose already, looked at her. He was quiet, well-mannered, polite and far from rude. He appeared humble in his tailored robes and well-polished shoes. He mumbled his response. He smiled, showing off soft green eyes to match his pale blond hair.

Only when Hermione didn't react that he looked up at her and spoke in a stronger voice, "My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy." He grimaced at the volume of his voice. "Sorry," he muttered again.

Hermione was able to school her features to stillness, falling back on her court room training. But the name was still rather shocking. 'Draco's Son. So this is his pride and joy.' She was standing in Flourish and Blotts talking with Malfoy's son. And yet he seemed nothing like his father. She knew of him, only by mention from Astoria at Ministry functions, but she'd never been privileged to meet the young man standing before her. Even these years later, with the history between the Weasley and Malfoy families, they didn't associate with one another. It would be a wonder if they could be civil to one another in public, much less anything further. The little they spoke in these intervening years was tolerance at best.

Hermione refused to think about Ron's reaction to Malfoy's name being mentioned anymore.

But for the shy boy standing before her, she could easily treat him with the refined manners he'd already demonstrated for her.

"Well, Scorpius, where are your parents? Shouldn't they be with you while you're browsing?" Hermione started looking around the establishment to see if she could see them. She knew Astoria socially from various Ministry functions. She avoided Draco as much as possible. Some wounds only scarred, never healed. But to see to the young man back in the company of his parents she'd swallow her disdain for his father.

"Father is paying for my school books up front. Mum is with Grandmother today, making arrangements for their holiday in two weeks. They are going to Corsica while I go off to Hogwarts." He thrust his lip out in a pout. "So I was browsing through the history books."

"Do you like to read?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mum insisted on the classics for my education. Father has an extensive library which I read books from after dinner. Mum reads with me while Father is tending to his business. But this one," he picks up the leather bound tome with gold leaf lettering, "I've not read this one yet. I was told I could have it before I left for Hogwarts."

"Scorpius, where are you?" A stern voice rang out from the front of the book shop.

"Over here, Father."

Draco walked up and saw Hermione standing there, talking with his son. He stopped and regarded her with a flicker of disdain before covering it over in professional detachment. Hermione mirrored him, keeping her face and voice passive for the sake of Scorpius.

"Malfoy."

"Granger. Is the family about?"

"The children are outside with their father, probably indulging in seconds of the seasonal flavor from Fortescue's. Your son and I were speaking about a particular book."

"What book is that, Granger?"

She looked at the young man before her and shifted her head slightly. He nodded and handed it to her. "He was interested in this one. I hadn't had the chance to tell him it's one of my favorites, and that I still enjoy opening it from time to time."

Draco looked at the spine of the book and held it in his hands. "Scorpius has a birthday coming up. It's in two weeks, on the 10th of September." Draco smiled at his son. "We missed the previous year's cut-off by 11 days. My son took his sweet time coming into the world."

"For my Birthday? Really?"

Draco nodded. "I had intended to return later and pick it up for you and have it delivered on your birthday. It seems that you picked up on it before I could give you the surprise." He smiled at the joy on his son's face.

Hermione watched the change on both of their faces and kept her face passive. She didn't want to embarrass Draco or Scorpius on how well they seemed to enjoy one another's company. Their look reminded her of Ron and Hugo when they were playing chess against one another.

Draco turned back to Hermione standing politely across from them. "He's a lot like you, Solicitor Granger. He loves to read and has read most of the books in our personal library. His thirst for knowledge seems to equal your own. Isn't that right?"

Scorpius nodded back at his father.

Hermione smiled and came to a decision – one that was afforded her years ago at a book shop up in Bicester. She reached into her purse and pulled some galleons out. "Here, let me offer a few into that birthday gift."

Draco blushed and pulled the book back slightly, as if revolted by her offer. "You don't have to do that, Granger."

She waved her hand while handing them over. "It's not charity, Malfoy. I'm paying it forward. I received my first book from a bookstore in Bicester from the shop owner and this is my way of helping the next generation of kids continue their love of reading." She smiled at the young man. "He's a polite young man and I had a nice conversation with him. I have no qualms giving him my book allowance this month."

Draco looked at the galleons in his hands and looked at Scorpius. "Mrs. Weasley is being very generous with you regarding this book. You heard what she said? This isn't charity. So someday you too will be generous too, just like the solicitor here."

The young man turned around and looked at his shoes, a red tinge to his skin. "Thank you Mrs. Granger."

She looked at Draco and smiled. "You're most welcome, Scorpius. I hope when you start reading the book you enjoy it as well as I did when I was your age."

Hermione looked up at Draco and tried to smile. "Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

"Good day, Solicitor Granger."

Draco watched her walk off and out the doors. While Scorpius was already a few pages into the tome in his hands, he watched Hermione walk away. He was terribly confused to why she would hand over the 5 galleons for the book in his son's hands. 'But she said it wasn't charity.' He looked down at his son and saw the smile on his son's face. 'Maybe she told the truth, that someone did that for her.'

He looked out the window and saw Granger with that git Weasley and their kids. The smiles on the children's faces showed how much they loved their Mum.

Why would she give him galleons for his birthday present? Draco shook his head. Barmy witch. I still can't fathom her.

"Come Scorpius. Let's purchase your birthday present. When you get home, you will send Mrs. Weasley a thank you note for giving you the galleons to purchase your book."

"I shall, Father. Can I tell Mum about it?"

"Absolutely. Your Mum will be pleased as well."

Draco walked into his study with the intention of indulging in a refreshing glass of Firewhiskey this evening. The November chill settled onto his bones like a blanket he couldn't throw off. The years were wearing on him, along with the silence in the manor. He missed his son, sitting with him and Astoria, reading every night while she tutored him as best as she could.

Draco flicked his wand at the fireplace, setting the heavy logs in a slow burn. The office in their residence was still slightly drafty, even these years later. He'd need to speak with a magical contractor about getting the windows sealed again and warded once more.

He deposited the usual correspondence on the pile, along with statements from his work and the company too. He picked up one, written in his son's scrawl and opened it.

BANG!

Draco was blown off his feet and landed hard on the wood floor. Smoke rose from the top of the blown over desk along with a ghostly image of his son's head arising up from the smoke.

"DAD! How could you! I finished reading Hogwarts, a History, and you were mentioned in there as being on the wrong side of the War. Why? Why didn't you tell me that before I came to Hogwarts? I read it in the book I got on my birthday but I didn't want to believe it. All of the Weasley kids (and their cousins, the Potters!) told me that it was the truth."

A second head came into view, a bushy mop of what Draco presumed to be ginger hair. "You heard Professor Longbottom, Scorpius. He told you himself, too. Wait, is that a howler from Dad's shop?"

"How could you do that? How could you take the Dark Mark? I know about Grandfather but you? I trusted you, listened to you when you said you stayed out of the fighting and I come here and find out you did take it, fought for them. Why?

"I hate you! You taught me better than that! Rose is my friend. Why would you treat her Mum that way? How could you treat Mrs. Weasley that way? Because her parents were Muggles? That's stupid."

"Scorpius, it's OK."

"No! It's not ok, Rose. Dad lied to me. Dad told me that he stayed out of the fighting. Mum told me years ago that your grandfather, Grampa Weasley, rescued Mum from Draco's Aunt who was going to kill her. Mum told me how she was so scared she was going to perish but then your Grandfather showed up and he carried her to the Hospital wing. But Dad said he escaped the fighting. I come here and find out that it's not true. I hate him."

"You don't hate him. He's still your Dad."

A wounded growl came through the smoke. Scorpius face came back into focus. He snarled and it looked ugly on his refined features. "Rose is right. I wish you'd told me the truth!"

The parchment immolated into a pile of ash on the floor.

"What the bloody hell was all that ruckus?"

Astoria stepped into the office and saw Draco sitting on the ground with his desk blown across the room and all of his papers dashed to all corners of the office. "Are you hurt?"

"No. It's only my pride which is nothing more than I deserve."

She stepped up and knelt down, checking his scalp for a nick there. She pressed on a spot and he hissed.

"That was our son telling me that he hated me because I took the Dark Mark during the war and I didn't bother to tell him what happened before he got to school."

Astoria held her finger on the cut on his scalp before pulling her wand. She waved it around his head and saw nothing more than the nick along with a few eventual bruises which would come up. "I did tell you, repeatedly, to tell him before he went off to school. But you said he'd be fine without knowing for at least the first year."

Draco scowled at his wife and continued. "Anyway, it seems he finished the book we got him for his birthday. He spoke to his friend, Rose Weasley, and she told him that what was written in the book was true. Professor Longbottom confirmed it."

"What else?"

"He was mad 'cause I was a sniveling arse back then, and was a git towards Granger. I swear, when I can see straight, I'm sending her a howler."

"No you're not. You'll do no such thing."

Draco looked back at her and winced when she removed her hand from his scalp. She pointed her wand at his head and healed the nick on his skin. "You will be his father and not take it out on Granger, as much as you might want. You will inform Granger of what happened and see if she can assist in helping us with Scorpius. I think if I asked, she'd be amenable to it."

"It's not like I'm friends with Granger and that git she's married to. Why should she help us with Scorpius?"

"That's true, love." Astoria pocketed her wand and looked around the room. "If you asked Hermione, she would be willing to assist. She is a rather pleasant person to speak with."

Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and worked his magic to repair the broken desk as well as the glassware on the shelves. "Astoria, I dunno what to do. Our son hates me, for not telling him the truth. My son sent me a bloody howler because I was a foolish git during my school years."

"He's angry and confused. He needs to hear from you about that time in your life, not just about mine." Astoria sat down on the couch and motioned for her husband to join her there. He did and she pulled him close. "Well, you were a git, honestly. No one had the backbone to tell you then. But for our son, you decided, against my judgment that you didn't want to tell him 'til he was older. And now you got a howler for it." She put her hand on his knee and squeezed. "You're upset because he found out before you were ready and now you'll have to explain things before you think he's ready. We'll deal with it."

Draco fiddled with the cuffs on his dress shirt. "But it wasn't the right time. How do you explain to your son what happened, and why it made sense then? How do you tell your son you bought the lies and did it to please your parents, and then did even worse to save their lives?"

Astoria's eyes turned hard for a moment before she softened her features. "You forget that your Aunt tried to kill me – and your cousin gave their life to save mine. You might still disagree with the Weasley family but I owe Arthur my life, just like you owe Harry yours." Astoria sat up further on the couch. "And now you owe your son the unvarnished truth. He deserves to hear it from his own father."

Astoria laid her hands over the tops of his and she watched him settle down. Only when he stopped moving did she squeeze them in comfort. "When he comes home at Christmas, we'll sit down with him and tell him the truth."

"All of it?" Draco looked lost for a moment.

"All of it. He'll respect you once he understands the context of what happened, including with his grandparents. He might not like what he hears, but he will respect you for the truth." Astoria kissed him gently. "Just like you I do, for telling me everything that happened when we were first courting."

Draco looked at his hands but was lost in his memories. "Do you think he'll forgive me, for not telling him before he left for school?" He looked up and saw her green eyes filled with raw honesty.

"I do, once you explain that you only were keeping the information from him because you thought he wasn't ready. But, because of what he's learned on his own, he needs to know everything from his father, the good and the bad."

"And the Weasleys? What about them? It sounds like Rose is a good influence on him, if she was in the howler too."

"I know Hermione socially. You might not like them but they are good people too. They're a touch strange but they obviously love their family, just like you love us." Astoria kissed him on the cheek. "You need to let those animosities go. It doesn't do you any good, and it won't help Scorpius."

Draco watched his wife stand up from the couch and depart his office. Once again he was left to his thoughts and they were confusing. He made the right decision, but it still had the painful consequences. How could he explain to his son?

He picked up the papers in contemplation, letting his wife's wisdom wash over him once again. She was right, once again. He'd not make the same mistakes his own father made when it came to raising his son.

'I can swallow my pride, for my son's sake. He's worth it.'

Draco sat down at his desk and pulled the eagle owl quill from his drawer. With a fresh piece of parchment, he set out to set his mistakes right with his son. Scorpius deserved nothing less from his father.

Dear Son,

A/N2: For those who might be confused on some references, I am referencing Vials of Vile Potions and What's Good for the Goose.