Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

History Unrepeating

"Dad? Dad? What are you laughing at?"

Draco took one look into his son's eyes, full of fear and uncertainty, and quickly suppressed his grin.

"Nothing, nothing," he told Scorpius with a casual wave of his hand.

Scorpius didn't look convinced. He had just opened his mouth to ask his father another question when he was distracted by his mother, who pulled him closer to her on the pretense of fixing his robes.

Draco decided that after his son had spent the previous evening pacing anxiously around his bedroom, and a morning of running frantically all over the house, making sure that he had packed all of his school books, Scorpius definitely wouldn't be in the mood to join in with one of his father's jokes.

He glanced at Astoria, who looked like she would burst into tears at any moment, and decided that she wouldn't find what he had just overheard amusing either.

It wasn't even that funny really, when he thought about it. He wasn't sure why their comments had caused him to laugh rather than sneer or shout something insulting right back at them.

Of course, he had expected some sort of comment or strange look the moment the Potters and the Weasleys caught sight of him on platform nine and three-quarters, the same way that he had expected it from almost every adult on the platform that day. He just hadn't been sure exactly what they were going to say.

No sooner had he passed through the barrier with his wife and son than he heard the first muttered comment of, "Look who it is," carried over from somewhere further down the platform, even though he wasn't sure who had said it.

This was quickly followed by, "So that's little Scorpius…" in what was undoubtedly Ronald Weasley's voice.

Then, the comment that had really made him laugh: "Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie…"

So the rivalry was still there, after all these years. They obviously thought that Scorpius was exactly like his father had been at that age, or even his grandfather.

What had they expected? That Draco and his son would run onto the platform in matching black robes, hexing all the Muggle-born students?

Draco had actually started to think that everything was finally OK between them all. Nineteen years had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts and they were all older and somewhat wiser, with families and children of their own. But apparently, it was a case of old habits dying hard.

For several years after the battle, things had been very awkward. Every time he had spotted one of them in Diagon Alley, Harry Potter especially, he had quickly turned around and headed in the opposite direction, trying to get away before they could see him.

However, he had eventually grown tired of Astoria's constant whispering of, "You're being really immature!" and after a while he had started to walk past the Potters and the Weasleys with his head held high, even managing a polite nod in greeting every now and then, which they always returned.

He had made sure that he nodded over to them on the platform as well, a few seconds after he caught them staring at him, just so they got the message that he was simply here to say goodbye to his son and not to cause any trouble.

He also knew that Astoria would occasionally speak to Hermione Weasley whenever their paths crossed at work. Hermione had apparently offered her congratulations not long after Scorpius was born, and as their children got older the two of them would sometimes share stories about their families.

Draco knew this because Astoria would often bring up these conversations as they sat around the dinner table, telling him endless stories about how the Potter and the Weasley children would all happily play games of Quidditch together or eat Christmas dinner around a large table at Arthur and Molly Weasley's house.

He wasn't stupid, he knew what the not-so-subtle hint was every time she started to tell one of these stories: she wanted more than anything for Scorpius to be involved in these joyous extended family moments.

Scorpius had been forced into living a somewhat isolated childhood; the over-protected only child whose main social interactions were with the adults who belonged to Draco and Astoria's very small circle of friends-the few who had stuck with Draco after the war and the few who had stuck with Astoria after the wedding.

For years, Astoria seemed to cling on to this image of Scorpius happily playing games with children who accepted him and included him, finally free from the prejudice of the past and living life like any other child his age.

He knew that this was what Astoria wanted, but what was he supposed to do about it? He couldn't just Apparate outside Potter's front door with Scorpius in tow.

He could only imagine how strained that conversation would be, especially if he came out with something along the lines of: "Potter, I know that I went out of my way to make your life at Hogwarts completely miserable, and I know that we've barely said a word to each other for nearly two decades, but my wife would very much like for Scorpius to play a game of Quidditch with your children, so here he is. Oh, and make sure he doesn't get hurt or I'll see to it that I personally hex both you and Weasley in retaliation…"

Knowing him, he would probably end up saying exactly that, especially the last part. Tact still wasn't his strong point, especially when it came to conversations about his son's safety.

Draco quickly shook off that previous thought as he looked back over at Astoria, who had abandoned all attempts at fixing Scorpius's robes and simply thrown her arms around him so that she could give him yet another hug. She caught him looking and smiled at him, her eyes still glistening with tears.

Draco suddenly felt deeply appreciative of the fact that he had lived to see the day when he was standing on platform nine and three-quarters, about to send his own child off to Hogwarts, the way his parents had done all those years ago.

He was well aware of the fact that it could have been a very different story. His name could have been one of many on the long list of war victims, published every year in the Daily Prophet on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

He felt himself shuddering as he imagined his name coming up in the occasional conversation, whenever people talked about yet another tragic loss of a young life. Or not so tragic, depending on who was doing the talking.

Draco could clearly remember a conversation with his mother several days after the Battle of Hogwarts, when she had tearfully told him about how she and Draco's father had run through Hogwarts towards the end, screaming their son's name, not even knowing for sure whether he was still alive and blaming themselves for getting the family into that situation.

That particular story had always haunted him, especially after he had a son of his own. From the moment Scorpius was born, he had vowed that he would do everything in his power to make sure that he and Astoria were never in a situation where they had to run through Hogwarts, frantically trying to find Scorpius.

His eyes moved away from his wife and son towards the flashes of black and red hair further down the platform. No matter what had happened between them all, there was no denying that they were the reason why he was standing here. He would never be able to swallow his pride and admit that to them directly, but he would never forget it.

For years he had resented them for it; he had even confessed to Astoria once about how angry it made him, the constant feeling that he was in their debt, that he still owed them something. But over time, he had slowly grown to accept it. Maybe he really would think of a way to repay them, one day.

As Ronald Weasley threw yet another glare in his direction, he wondered (not for the first time) whether they regretted saving him, whether they were privately thinking that he didn't really deserve to be here.

Astoria let go of Scorpius and started to remind him about staying out of trouble, insisting that he wrote to them at least once a week. She glanced at Draco as she spoke and he quickly fell into his usual role of nodding along in agreement with his wife, in the hope that Scorpius would listen to the two of them.

Draco's relationship with Astoria had been a surprise to a lot of people, not least to Draco himself. He had barely noticed her during his first six years at Hogwarts. But then, that wasn't really saying much. After all, his thoughts had been so dominated by his lust for power and his hatred of Harry Potter and the other Gryffindors that he had hardly noticed anything else.

The only clear memories he had of her were those in which she rolled her eyes at him, muttered, "You're so annoying!" and walked away whenever she overheard one of his conversations with Crabbe and Goyle.

Back then, he had much preferred the company of girls like Pansy, who offered unconditional loyalty and agreed with everything he said.

It was only during his terrible seventh year at school that his memories of her started to stand out.

He had felt so alone that year, abandoned by his once loyal followers who had started to sense his doubts and his potential change of allegiance even before his own mind had consciously acknowledged it.

He had quickly grown tired of moping around the Slytherin common room, where Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle had refused to do anything more than politely acknowledge him, and he had chosen instead to mope around the school library, where he was free to sulk in peace.

Every so often he would look up from whatever book he was pretending to read and Astoria would be sitting at the desk opposite him, smiling at him sympathetically whenever she caught him looking, or silently sliding a piece of chocolate across the table whenever he was having a really bad day. They were only small gestures, but they had been some comfort to him at the time.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, he hadn't seen her again for several months. Mainly due to the fact that he had spent weeks locked away in his room at his parents' manor, unable to do anything other than staring blankly out of the window, haunted by constant flashbacks of standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower with his wand pointed at Albus Dumbledore, or running to get away from the fire that swept through the Room of Requirement.

He couldn't even remember the end of the battle or what had happened when it was over. He had even started to think that he must have fainted or collapsed, but a few years later somebody told him that he had sat for hours in the Great Hall with his parents, wide-eyed and staring blankly at the ceiling. If that was true then he had no recollection of it.

The nights after the battle were worse than the days. Whenever he had tried to sleep, he was tormented by the recurring dream of standing in the middle of a room full of smoke and fire, with his parents shouting his name repeatedly in the distance. Yet in these dreams Draco or his parents were always the ones who had started the fire in the first place and it was therefore their own fault that they couldn't find each other among the flames.

Then there had been the trials at the Ministry of Magic to determine whether he and his family should be punished for their allegiance to Voldemort.

One Friday afternoon, he had been forced to endure a particularly long trial as his alleged crimes were read out in detail, one after the other. That was the day when Harry Potter had spoken in his family's defense, talking in detail about the final battle, forcing Draco to relive every single moment of it when it was all still so fresh in his memory.

Potter had even told the Ministry Officials about how Draco's mother had saved his life, something which Draco had heard nothing about until that moment.

Even then Draco had glared angrily at him, furious and humiliated at yet again having to depend on Harry Potter for help.

He had thought at the time that his anger might have given him enough strength to get up at the end of the trial and walk out of the Ministry with dignity, with his usual hardened and uncaring expression fixed on his face.

However, that plan had gone completely awry only a few minutes after he walked out of the trial and into one of the long corridors of the Ministry of Magic. The impact of everything that had happened during the previous two years had suddenly hit him hard like a stinging hex. Without warning, he had broken down in tears, his body going into shock at the arrival of such strong emotion after weeks of feeling completely numb.

With only the wall to lean against for support, he had stood there and let the emotion take over, not even caring that Rita Skeeter was hovering around in the background with a photographer in tow, apparently trying to decide whether his display of emotion would make a worthy front page picture.

The spoilt eleven year old child in his head had taken over as he cried about how unfair the whole thing was. The members of the 'Golden Trio' were treated like heroes, allowed to celebrate their victory in peace while he was left to cry and suffer in the background.

He too had been forced to witness death and murder. Crabbe was dead. Albus Dumbledore was dead. He too had lived with the uncertainty of not knowing what would happen from one day to the next. For two years he had lived in constant fear that he or his parents would be killed at any moment. He would live the rest of his life knowing that he owed it to the person who he had hated the most at Hogwarts.

And all he had wanted was to take a break from being told about how evil he was by almost every witch and wizard he passed in Diagon Alley and from being talked to in detail about his crimes and his bad decisions every single day at the Ministry of Magic, and for somebody to just tell him for once that they understood the pain that he was going through.

He hadn't even seen anyone approach him, but he felt somebody grab his arm and pull him away from the wall and down the corridor.

He had been too weak to protest, letting whoever it was lead him away as a female voice shouted something angrily at Rita Skeeter and then muttered, "My father's office is just around the corner…"

As soon as she led him into the office and locked the door, she had told him to sit down in one of the spare seats and then averted her eyes from him as she let him cry in peace.

The first thing he noticed at the time was the Hogwarts uniform, and he had actually worried about the fact that she was probably too young to be sitting alone in a locked office with a former Death Eater, even though said former Death Eater probably wouldn't have even been able to manage a mild hex in the condition that he was in.

Then he had looked at her face and her long brown hair and realised that she was the same girl who he had always seen in the library during seventh year.

After a while, she had sat down uncertainly in the seat next to him, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder as though she didn't really know what she was supposed to do or say.

In the end, he had thrown his arms around her and cried on her shoulder, the desperation for some sort of human contact and comfort completely overtaking the logical part of his mind that had been telling him she was virtually a stranger and could easily run away from him in fear.

As she hugged him back, he hadn't even cared that she was witnessing such a moment of weakness. It was men like his father who he needed to keep up the tough exterior for, not girls like her.

He had thought at the time that he would spend less than an hour sitting in that office with his arms around her, but as it turned out, he never let go.

Her typical remarks from their days at Hogwarts of, "Shut up, Draco!" and "You're so annoying, Draco!" had eventually turned into terms of endearment.

They hadn't even minded too much when Rita Skeeter ran with a 'scandalous' story about how an innocent sixteen year old girl from a good family had fallen in love with a Death Eater. Even though Astoria's father had minded a lot.

Draco was pulled out of his memories and back onto the platform the moment Scorpius left his mother's side and walked over to him so that he could say goodbye.

His son looked up at him expectantly, waiting for his father to speak.

He looked so much like Draco did on all of the photographs of his own first day. People often commented on the resemblance whenever the two of them were out in public together. Yet the resemblance was only physical. When it came to Scorpius's personality, he definitely took after his mother's side of the family.

Draco took a deep breath, reluctant to let his emotions get the better of him when his son was already so nervous. He felt one of his familiar twinges of guilt as he worried about what life at Hogwarts would be like for Scorpius. If his son did have any problems with the other students, then Draco knew very well that it would most likely be due to the bad reputation of the Malfoy family that still lingered after nineteen years, rather than his son's personality.

Scorpius could be shy and uncertain around people at times, a defence mechanism he seemed to have developed against the insulting comments that were thrown at him whenever people couldn't aim them directly at Draco. But if people gave Scorpius a chance, he would sit and talk to them for hours on end, asking endless questions about their lives. Unlike Draco at the age of eleven, Scorpius was fascinated with everything and everybody, from the Muggle children who lived in their village to his pure-blood-and-still-proud-of-it grandfather.

As Draco was reminded of his own father, he felt another twinge of guilt as he thought about how much both he and Draco's mother would have loved to have been here on the platform to watch Scorpius board the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

In the end, they had all decided against it, as they knew that Draco's appearance would attract enough negative attention, even without the presence of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

He also knew that Scorpius himself would have loved for his grandfather to be here. From the day Scorpius was born, his grandfather had treated him like the second child he had never had, something which often led to arguments between Draco and his father, usually along the lines of: "Father, Scorpius doesn't need a brand new racing broom, he's three years old!" Or, "Father, I should be the one to take Scorpius to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies, he's my son." And then, their most common argument: "Father, it is not absolutely essential that Scorpius is sorted into Slytherin House, could you please stop telling him that it is!"

Yet for all his father's faults, Draco knew that Scorpius adored his grandfather, and he was determined not to do or say anything that could put a strain on that relationship. Besides, his father was definitely mellowing in his old age.

"Why are they staring?" Scorpius muttered anxiously, his eyes focused on something behind Draco. "Do I have dirt on my face? Is there something wrong with my hair? Are my robes not-"

"There's nothing wrong with your appearance, Scorpius," Draco told him with a grin.

He followed Scorpius's line of vision towards the Potter/Weasley end of the platform. He noticed that Harry Potter was deep in conversation with one of his sons, who must also be due to start at Hogwarts today.

Draco almost laughed again at the strangeness of it all...the two of them standing only meters apart in exactly the same situation. They had taken very different paths in life, but somehow they had both arrived at the same destination.

Draco finally leaned down so that he could talk to his son in private, trying to think of any last minute advice he could offer him.

"Play nicely with the other children, Scorpius," he told him. It was supposed to sound funny and sarcastic, but Draco was almost scared by how much he sounded like his own father. "Make sure you follow Hagrid to the boats with the other first years when you arrive, be polite to the teachers, don't challenge anybody to a du-"

"Guess who I've just seen snogging?"

Draco was cut off as he was elbowed out of the way by one of Potter's sons, who was trying to get past him so that he could get back to his family.

"As I was saying, Scorpius," Draco grimaced, but then he decided to make a joke out of it, "don't challenge anybody to a duel, unless their surname is Pot-"

"Draco…"

This time it was Astoria who cut him off as she muttered his name warningly.

"Fine," he sighed, "no duelling at all, especially not in first year."

For a moment it seemed like Scorpius was about to say something else, but instead he threw his arms around Draco's neck so that he could give him a hug.

Draco held him tightly, scared about letting him go to a place where he wouldn't be around to protect him twenty-four hours a day and where he could be influenced by not-so-friendly opinions about his family.

He noticed out the corner of his eye that a few of the former Slytherins from his year at Hogwarts were staring at him in surprise as he hugged his son, and he decided that it must be because they weren't used to seeing Draco Malfoy show any sort of affection.

"Dad, what if I'm not put in Slytherin?"

Scorpius asked the question in barely more than a whisper, so that only Draco and Astoria could hear.

Draco knew that this was something his son was extremely concerned about, probably due to the joking comments involving the words 'Hufflepuff' and 'disinherit you' that his grandfather always made. As Draco got older, his desire to constantly gain his father's approval had gradually decreased. But he knew that for Scorpius, the fear of his grandfather's disapproval was definitely still there.

Draco pulled back from the hug and studied his son's anxious expression as Scorpius waited for some sort of response.

Astoria pretended to be suddenly very interested in staring at something on the other end of the platform, but Draco knew that really she was listening intently to see how he was going to answer the question.

Draco tried to find the right words to respond. Most of the time, sentences that sounded rather funny or even kind-hearted in his head often offended people when he said them out loud, and he really didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset his son.

He would have liked to have said something about how any of the Hogwarts houses would be lucky to have him as their student, because he was obviously going to be one of the brightest and most intelligent first years, so much more intelligent than any of the Weasleys...but he was sure that saying something like that would earn him another glare from Astoria, so he decided to word his response in a slightly different way.

"Scorpius, we'll always be proud of you, no matter what house you're sorted into."

Scorpius looked at him with an expression of relief as Astoria turned away from them so that she could discreetly wipe her eyes.

"However," Draco continued, "if the unthinkable happens and you're sorted into Hufflepuff, don't go on to marry a Muggle-born student as well; we don't want to give Grandpa something else to complain abo-"

"Draco! For heaven's sake!" Astoria glared at him furiously before she looked frantically from left to right, making sure that nobody had overheard his comment.

"It was a joke," he muttered back at her, then he smirked at his son and rolled his eyes, a look that grandfather, father and son often shared.

Scorpius actually managed to grin back at him, even though they both quickly looked over to check that Astoria wasn't too angry.

Scorpius gave his mother and father another quick hug before he started to head towards the train.

Draco's eyes moved from his own son towards the girl with red hair and the boy with black hair who were already getting on the train. In that moment, he made a decision. He was determined that no matter what had happened in the past, and no matter what the adults thought about each other, history was not going to repeat itself.

"Scorpius…" Draco grabbed his son by the shoulder.

Scorpius turned back to look at him, the confusion apparent in eyes.

"You see those two children who've just got on the train?" Draco pointed them out to Scorpius.

"Yeah…" Scorpius responded questioningly, looking over in their direction.

"They're going to be in first year, too. Why don't you go and say hello to them during the train journey? Everybody says that they're really nice."

In reality, he didn't know that much about them, and the only person who told him that they were really nice was Astoria, but he knew that if they were anything like their parents were at school, they would perhaps give Scorpius a chance to talk to them without passing judgment.

With any luck, their parents wouldn't have told them too many of the unpleasant details about the past and they would therefore know very little about the Malfoy family history.

"Do you think they'll talk to me?" Scorpius asked as the all-too-familiar look of uncertainty flashed across his face.

Draco desperately tried to ignore the pang of guilt and keep his expression neutral.

The Weasleys might have wanted some sort of rivalry to continue, but Draco really didn't. He couldn't bear the thought of his son sitting at home during the holidays, muttering jealously about how much attention the Potters got, or complaining about how much the Weasleys got on his nerves.

"Well, if they don't, it's their loss. There's no harm in trying though, is there?"

"What should I say to them to start a conversation?" Scorpius asked his father.

"I don't know…" Draco responded uncertainly, not really sure that he was the best person to give advice on how to befriend anyone with the surname Potter.

He looked over at Astoria for help, but she had gone back to looking at some imaginary object on the other end of the platform, apparently happy for Draco to take charge of this situation.

"Just tell them that the train's full, or something along those lines, and that you're looking for a spare seat," Draco eventually told him. "Then just be yourself."

"OK, Dad," Scorpius finally responded after thinking about it for a moment.

Astoria looked at Draco tearfully for a few seconds, before silently mouthing, "Thank you."

All too soon, Scorpius had left his father's side and climbed onto the train.

Draco thought yet again about the time that Harry Potter had saved his life in the Room of Requirement. Even though he would never be able to walk up to him and thank him face to face, this is what he could give them all instead. He would give them the chance of having Scorpius as their friend. And if it did happen, he would try really hard not to utter a word of complaint if he had to lose some of his quality time with his son whenever he wanted to spend time with the Potters or the Weasleys.

Maybe it wouldn't seem like very much to them, but to Draco, who had spent eleven years trying not to let his only son out of his sight, it was everything.

The second the train pulled out of the station, Astoria broke down completely.

Draco wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort her as she cried.

"Well done, Draco," she told him after a few minutes, managing a faint grin even though her eyes were still wet with tears.

"What for?" he asked her.

Apparently she wasn't listening, as she had already started talking before he finished the question.

"Wouldn't it be so lovely if they all became friends?" she asked him with a smile. "They could come and stay during the summer holidays-we'd have to find some extra seats for the dinner table, of course-and they could all play Quidditch in the garden, and obviously we'd have to invite their parents for dinner one night, or at least for a drink…"

Draco felt his eyes widen in horror. He hadn't thought about all that. In his mind, he'd imagined that the children would all play happily together at school and then during the holidays Astoria would be the one who would take Scorpius to the children's houses to visit.

Even when he thought about the possibility of the children coming to visit Scorpius, he hadn't thought about the fact that the parents would be involved. What was he supposed to do if all the adults descended on his home during the summer holidays or if he had to invite them for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron? What would they even talk about? It would be so awkward.

Astoria stopped talking, took one look at the expression on his face and started laughing.

"Come on," she told him between her gasps of laughter, "let's go and get you something strong to drink at the Leaky Cauldron."

As they started to head towards the barrier that would take them back through to the main entrance of King's Cross station, Draco noticed that the Potters and the Weasleys were still staring at him. It was starting to get on his nerves, especially now that Scorpius wasn't around to distract him. And when he thought about it, Weasley's comments had been rather offensive.

With his arm still around Astoria, he discreetly pulled the two of them to the left so that he could walk right past them all.

He'd been nice enough for that morning. Away from the watchful eyes of his son, he felt the old smirk that he hadn't used for years slowly creeping back on to his face.

He had to admit that in a strange way he had actually missed it, thinking up insults to throw at them and trying to get some sort of witty comeback into the conversation when they all argued.

He pretended that he was in conversation with Astoria, but really he raised his voice so that they could all overhear him.

"In the unlikely event that she does beat him in every test," he said loudly, "Scorpius will definitely beat her at Quidd-"

"Draco!" Astoria practically screamed at him, looking mortified.

She managed to look over apologetically at Hermione Weasley, who smiled at her sympathetically.

In one swift movement, Astoria led the two of them to the barrier, glaring at Draco the whole way.

Just before Draco disappeared through the barrier, he chanced a look back at them. He was surprised to see that they were all laughing. No doubt laughing at him behind his back and not realising that they were supposed to be insulted rather than amused.

He sighed heavily, convinced that he had lost his touch after years of having to keep the insults in check.

The laughter continued as he walked slowly through the barrier. He only hoped that they were still laughing during the holidays when Astoria was inviting them all around for dinner.