AN: This little series is something I've literally been poking and prodding for years. The style is a little unorthodox... largely comprised of small vignettes and drabbles taking place in chronological order. I've been adding bits and pieces for years, and after recently playing with it, I've decided to finally go ahead and post the first chapter for you to enjoy (or if you're inclined to do so, ridicule mercilessly).
This was originally intended to be a comedy - it did not end that way. At all.
Sorry if it seems OFC heavy. That's just how I rolled on this one.
Disclaimer: The majority of the characters within are creations of J.K. Rowling and I make no claim to and profit not from. The original characters are mine, and yet I continue to not profit. Figures.
Draco Malfoy had known of Astoria Greengrass during his time at Hogwarts, but he had not known her. Younger than he, she barely traded a single word, and had spent her time with her other year-mates. It wasn't until years after the battle of Hogwarts and the fall of the Dark Lord that he met her at her sister's wedding. She'd grown, he'd noticed. While he'd remembered her as a typical girl, her once mousy brown hair had become a rich chestnut, and her dress robes clung to generous hips and dipped into a small waist. It wasn't love at first sight, but it was an appreciation for how maturity flattered the female form. When gray eyes met soft hazel, and she smiled in acknowledgment, he thought that appreciation was a good beginning.
When their engagement was announced just six months later, his mother had been beside herself. For his entire life his mother had certainly been the affectionate parent, but even she had been emotionally distant. But with the news of the engagement, Narcissa Malfoy had lit up like a crystalline chandelier. It had actually become quite uncomfortable to be around her. She would gush and smile, pull him into unprovoked embraces and ask him invasive question about his future wife, all the while enlightening him on the purity and esteem of the Greengrass line. He had expected her to be disappointed that what he had with Pansy hadn't worked out, but it wasn't the first time since after the war she had surprised him.
Astoria made a beautiful bride, and a fine wife. She was a reserved woman, not unlike his mother in some ways, and most days she was content to spend hours at the window of her personal study with a large tome from the ancestral Malfoy library. Usually he was confined to his own study, but once in awhile he would join her at the window, and they would sit in silence, enjoying each other's silent company. It was times such as that he was glad he had never married Pansy, as her inane chatter surely would have driven him mad.
Their marriage was not passionate, but it was comfortable. When Scorpius was born, Draco and Astoria shared smiles, hers' tired and his proud, and as she held the Malfoy scion he kissed her forehead. When she slipped into a well-earned sleep, the midwife pulled the tiny baby from the crook of her elbow and handed him to his father. Not for the first time, as he looked into his son's ruddy pink face, Draco knew that the haughty, arrogant pride he felt was entirely justified.
Draco didn't think he would ever understand why Astoria left him. She had said it was his self-centeredness, but somehow he didn't buy into it. She had known of that long before they were married, and while he may have not been an attentive husband, she had not been a social wife. The fact that she left Scorpius in his custody without the harsh legal battle he had suspected cemented his suspicion. It didn't come as a surprise when gossip began a few weeks later that she had a lover and was moving to Wales. His only true regret was that his three-year old heir had only his father and an elderly grandmother to care for him.
Clymonistra Sedaris was an American witch Draco met at Twilfitt and Tatting's in Diagon Alley. He was looking for a birthday gift for his mother and had Scorpius balanced on his hip while he assessed a collection of fetching silk scarves. Simple black robes were untied over a clinging burgundy gown, a long slit slicing up the skirt to draw the eye to a peek of pale, creamy thigh. Her hair was a black curling cascade over her shoulders and down her back, and the eyes that met his were a dark storm blue. His mouth went dry and as Scorpius whined and squirmed against him, he realized that he had never been so truly stunned by a woman as he was by her.
When she accepted his invitation to dinner, he assumed it was his good looks and excellent breeding that secured the date. As he dressed for the occasion, his mother chastised him. "Honestly Draco, you have no idea who this woman is. I don't mind that she's an American, but really, for all you know she could be a half blood. She may even be muggleborn, Merlin forbid it. Think of your reputation, think of your son. Do you want him exposed to that?"
Later, he was preening as Clymonistra assured him that even in America, the esteem of the Malfoy line was known. Not widely she admitted, but good pure-blooded families had heard. He took this as authority on her breeding, and that night he snuck into his own home and took her to his bed, spiting his mother in his mind as he silenced the room and grappled in the sheets with the velvet clad temptress.
While his relationship with Astoria had been reserved and comfortable, with Cly it was pure, fiery passion. She was as Slytherin as he was, he was sure of it, but her spirit was Fiendfyre, and every touch burned him. Her body had a magnetic call worse than the song of a Veela, and every night he slipped her past the wards and into his home, living the decadently depraved life of wine and passion he never knew as a teenager. His mother knew, he thought. He saw it when she looked at him across the meal table during breakfast, dutifully raising utensils to Scorpius' lips as she fed her grandchild, but he apologized for nothing. During the day he handled business and coddled his son, and at night he buried himself deep into Clymonistra's flesh and let her heat burn him for his sins.
He married Cly not long after Narcissa called him out on the affair. He scoffed at the time, pointing out that he was a divorced single man, and as such it was hardly an affair. Never the less, she rejected Cly. Even with papers to vouch for her good breeding, (no less than ten generations, he was proud to note) she never took to the woman, not even when Scorpius would beg for the new woman to pick him up at night, nor when he grew tired and sleepily murmured "Mama..." into her perfumed neck.
His marriage to Clymonistra spawned a historical first in the Malfoy family. Cly carried and gave birth to the very first pair of twins in the long ancestry of his family, and his mother was apparently torn between the significance of this and her dislike for his wife. The twins were fraternal, a boy and a girl. The girl was born sixteen minutes before her brother, and was named Ellawyn Narcissa Malfoy. Having her granddaughter named for her seemed to mollify the Malfoy matriarch. The boy, smaller than his sister, was named Lucien Paciano Malfoy. It was as close as Draco could come to naming his son for his father without crossing a line that would leave the child alienated from the rest of the wizarding world, but his mother seemed equally pleased by this gesture as well.
At first, Draco worried that Scorpius would resent his new siblings for how much attention they received. As it happened, his concern was unprecedented. Scorpius adored the twins, and one of his favorite past times was to sneak into the nursery long past his bedtime to dangle his stuffed dragon toy in their faces until they either smiled or cried. He wondered how he would have taken to a little brother or sister, and quickly dismissed the thought. Even if he had, he certainly would have hated losing the soul focus of his parent's attentions.
Somehow, the twins garnered their own, short-lived brand of fame. The Malfoy's were known for their one heir policy, and going back through the centuries the only time there was more than one child, it was because the first born was female. Being the first twins, and Ellawyn being the first girl to be born after a male heir already lived, left Draco and Clymonistra with other pureblood families clamoring to get a look at the pair. It became so tedious in fact, that Cly took pictures of the twins and finally sent them to every of the pureblooded families, even the Weasley's, just to satiate any lingering curiosities. The real surprise was when Percy Weasley and his wife sent a note in response, a short blocky 'Congratulations' on crisp parchment. Draco knew it was love when Clymonistra sneered and tossed it into the embers of the fireplace.
It was only two weeks after the twins' second birthday when the American Aurors came. They had a warrant and permission from both the North American Magical Congress and the Ministry of Magic to enter the grounds, and they seized Cly just meters from the room her children slept in. She put up a hell of a fight, raving and screaming, magic so raw and full of rage it shook the very foundation of the manor. All as Draco, stunned to immobility, frantically demanded an explanation. While his wife and the mother of his children was subdued and bound, he was pulled aside. His wife, his lover, was never Clymonistra Sedaris. Her name was Lysandra Sahde, and she was a murderer in hiding. Hiding from her crimes in his home, in his bed. Petros and Alistair Sahde had only been three monthes old when their own mother cast the Killing Curse upon them and her husband. He stood pale and cold as the Auror showed him a picture of his Cly (his) with a man who looked very much like himself, twin dark haired infants coddled within the crook of each of the happy couple's elbows. Dead, the auror said. Dead because the woman was utterly soulless. Why hadn't he seen, or suspected? Sense that she was burning, burning her soul away in that sultry husk?
For weeks after Cly's arrest and his following petition for divorce, Draco remained in his ancestral home. He moved the nursery to a different wing, unable to face the hallway where his wife had been revealed for who she truly was. What she was. He took solace in his children, keeping Scorpius and the twins close, even when Narcissa offered to take them off his hands and they cried for their missing mother. He could see she wanted to tell him that she'd known something was wrong, that a mother always knew what was best. Her face was pinched more than usual as she restrained herself, if only out of fear that he would snap and break if she poured salt upon the wound too soon.
Condolences came, but he did not read them. After nearly a month had passed he loaded the twins into a pram and took Scorpius' hand, and he took them out. He didn't have any one place in mind at the time, just knew that the stillness of the house was driving them all mad, and some sort of stimulus was necessary. He just needed air, to be out of the manor. So many horrible things happened in that place, and it was suffocating him with its dark secrets, the ghosts of lies and spoiled memories. They walked through Muggle London, they went to Diagon Alley, and even with the whispers and glances he kept his head up high, tall and proud as a Malfoy should, ushering his three motherless children through the crowd. He let Scorpius go into every shop he desired, even the Weasley's joke shop, and while he did not make eye contact, he humored the little boy as he poked around the section intended for Toddling Troublemakers. He was relieved when Weasely himself wasn't at the counter, but his relief fell away when he realized it was his dark skinned wife, her hair still in elaborate braids even after all those years. She regarded him coldly, but when her gaze dropped to the twins and to Scorpius with his wide gray eyes, she seemed to soften. Before they left, she held out three brightly colored lollies. "I make George keep regular candies for the little ones. Have a good day, Malfoy."
Sometimes, it was too difficult to look at Lucien and Ellawyn. They were so very much his with their white skin, soft pale hair and petite size. But while Scorpius had his father and grandfather's gray eyes, Lucien and Ellawyn's were a stormy blue. Looking into his daughter's eyes was like looking into the same turbulent skies he saw windowed within his ex-wife when they made love, and the very thought brought pain and shame to him.
Narcissa chastised him for spending so much time with the children, insisted that it didn't look proper in public. He had to command respect, and while it was fine to be a loving father, it was unnecessary to take them with him everywhere he went. He disagreed, and when there was business he took them with him whenever possible. Lucien proved to be the shyest of the three, hiding behind his father and clutching his robes when he had meetings, while his sister and brother were shameless attention seekers. Scorpius was never above pulling on robes or skirts if it earned him a sweet, and Ellawyn with her large stormy eyes and pale wavy hair would be plucked up and held by any bold adult. No one could resist her charm.
Ellawyn's insistent need for attention was how he met Tsai Siao. He was speaking to Theodore Nott at the Ministry when she wandered away from him and her brothers, and he almost lost her entirely. As it happened, she saw the Chinese woman and was so taken by the shine of her elaborate silk robes that she made a bee line for her, tugging at her skirt and lifting her arms up high, a pout fixed into place and the command "Up!" out of her mouth before Draco had a chance to get to her. The Chinese representative looked confused for a moment, her dark eyes darting to the Minister's aid before she plucked the little girl up and balanced her on her hip. She looked amused, not affronted as he had feared, and when he came close with the two boys trailing after him like pale haired ducklings he realized that she was a lovely woman. Soft ivory skin, with long shining black hair and soulful ebony eyes. When she introduced herself, her voice soft and high and her English clipped, he wondered if Tsai Siao was her real name.
One night, after a secret dinner date with Tsai, Draco found himself sharing drinks with his mother as the children slept. They shared a companionable silence, the manor still and silent in the growing nightfall, but unbidden a question tumbled from his alcohol loosened lips.
"Mother… how did you know about Cly?"
He said this staring into the hearth of the fireplace, his fingers cold and neck hot as he refused to meet her eyes. The silence that followed was uncomfortable and cold, and for a time he believed she simply would not answer him. But even without turning to her, he could hear her throat working as she chose her words.
"Because," and she said this with such heartbreak that Draco could hear the rasp in her voice. "She reminded me of Bella."
When he told his mother he was getting married for the third time, she ran a bony hand over her face and demanded he pour her a glass of wine.
Tsai was nothing like Astoria or Clymonistra. She was exotic, entirely unique in her differences and when they made love it was a comfortable, gentle affair. She mothered the children expertly, seeming to dismiss the fact they weren't her own and taking to them as though they had always been hers, just out of sight. It was a fascinating to watch her soothe the twins, rocking them as though they were still babies and singing Chinese lullabies. Her Eastern nobility endeared her to Narcissa, if not begrudgingly, and every Friday she made a point of personally preparing dinner for the family. It sent the house elves into hysterics, and he tried to dissuade her, but she merely told him that as his wife, she was to provide for her husband. She wanted to demonstrate her ability to do so, and as much as he failed to understand why, he supposed it was a gesture intended to speak without words. Trying to recall if his mother had ever prepared them dinner, or even set foot into her own kitchen, he realized just how much of a gift his wife was giving him.
Sometimes if she'd had too much wine, his mother would tell him it was a good thing his father was locked away in Azkaban. She would say this quietly as if sharing a secret, her manicured nails fisting her robes, and she would go on to say that she knew it wasn't his fault, but his inability to remain with a single woman was hurting the Malfoy reputation. People whispered about him in the streets and in shops when they saw her out shopping, and mutter to one another that his love life was jinxed. She'd hastily interrupt her own thoughts to tell him the children helped his case, if only for the fact that a man who was abandoned with three children deserved understanding and sympathy. His only response was that he needed no pity, and he didn't care what they thought of his past wives.
Tsai was a good wife. She was noble, respected, of good standing and breeding, and she valued tradition and family above all else. The children adored her, and at some point they began calling her Mum, though Draco wasn't sure when this started. Her pregnancy was unexpected, and the children were ecstatic. Scorpius took relish in telling the twins of what it was like to expect them, and every other day they would run to Tsai or their father to ask when the baby was coming. They did this for all nine months.
It was a shock to walk into the delivery room at St. Mungo's and see that the infant had wisps of black hair. Tsai merely smiled and offered a tired shrug, stroking the pale cheek of her first natural child. The little girl was named after a princess in a Chinese tale Tsai was particularly fond of. Turandot Abelinda Malfoy was a perfect blend of her parents, and as she grew, her eyes were proven to be pale gray, almost silver against the contrast of her hair. Her eyes were large and almond shaped, her features straight and pointed, and as she matured her frame became thin and willowy. Draco knew she was beautiful, that all of his children were stunningly beautiful, but that she stood out against the rest made her special in her father's heart.
The closer Scorpius grew to Hogwarts age, the more anxiety seemed to coil itself within Draco's belly. He gave away nothing, not to his wife or his mother, but sometimes as he sat in his private study late into the evening polishing off a nightcap of his father's oldest brandy, he was given to panic. Scorpius was more naïve than he had been in those years, despite the seeming revolving door of maternal heartbreak he had endured in his short time. Was he Slytherin material? And if he was, what would it mean for him, Draco wondered? The house had lost its' grandeur, and the black mark the wizarding community cast over it's alumni was spread far and thick. His son would surely lose public sympathy once he was sorted and grew from a chubby cheeked miscreant and into an ambitious young man. Children could be shrouded in understanding, but with adulthood the emotion easily turned to hate.
The Malfoy's had deep pockets, and even with the toll of the war, this had never changed. So surely it was no surprise that upon his third appeal and a few well placed bribes (or in some cases, second and third bribes) that Lucius Malfoy, the once illustrious Malfoy patriarch, was to be released from Azkaban and sent home to his family. The night the case was declared victorious Draco and Tsai had toasted to his mother, who for the first time since the war seemed to genuinely light up with a delight that had no relation to her blessed grandchildren. It was only later, as he and his wife tucked their children into bed, that Draco cast worried glances at his stunning exotic bride, and wondered what his father would have to say about her and his unusual gaggle of grandchildren. Tsai, Merlin bless her, stroked his receding hair that night as they lay in their bed, and told him in no uncertain terms that she would honor her father-in-law, but ensure the safety of her yīng'ér as was a mother's duty. Draco easily understood the message, and sighed with relief as she pulled him into her warm embrace.
It was his mother's suggestion that he and Tsai take the children away for a weekend holiday during the days of his father's return. It was a shrewd yet heartfelt idea, knowing that the man in question would surely need grooming and medical attention before he be cast into the wide gazes of his grandchildren and daughter-in-law. Draco agreed, knowing all too well the state he had been in after his first return from prison all those years ago, and it would do no good for the children's first impression of their paternal grandfather to be fear at his haggard appearance. They vacationed in Paris, Draco fighting his growing apprehension as sticky little fingers pulled at his robes, four pairs of young eyes delighted by the new sights as they clamored through France, leaving their parents harried to keep up with them. He knew it was worth every tense moment to see them so full of delight days before what he could only imagine would be a disaster of a reunion, and knew comfort when he could turn to see his wife looking at him with soft soulful eyes and that lilting smile he treasured so very much.
Lucius Malfoy, though sickly and dazed looking, still struck an imposing figure. Narcissa had managed to tame his appearance to the best of her ability, so while his hair and pallor gave away his recent imprisonment he looked neat and polished, dressed in his finest and his hair sleek and tied in a ribbon at his neck's nape. Draco's first impression of his father, that though so well put together in all his aristocratic grace, was that he looked old. Indeed, the lines around his eyes and mouth had grown deeper into his fair skin, a scowl imprinted onto his features at all times. He and Narcissa met Draco and his family in the foyer, and Draco knew it was not only his appearance that his mother had spent the weekend preparing, but also his ability to react when following Draco and Tsai through the door was a rush of pale heads and one small dark one. If Lucius had reacted at all, Draco could not see it, and merely stood appreciating his mother's handiwork as the children stilled, their cries of glee to be home shushed when they saw the tall formidable male standing beside their grandmother. Four heads turned in unison to regard their father, then their mother, and with Draco's tight lipped nod they seemed to accept the patriarch's presence. Indeed, Draco could only stiffen and watch with cold apprehension when Ellawyn, brazen as ever, marched straight up to the former Death Eater and wrapped her thin arms around his waist in an innocent child's embrace.
"Hullo, grandpa." She murmured, her pink face smooshed into the robes draped around his middle. Draco was moments from rushing forward to snatch her away, a dozen possible outcomes to such a bold, uninhibited move playing through his mind's eye, knowing his cold, stoic father to detest such weak actions. But instead, he watched breath tight in his chest, as Lucius raised a single trembling hand and ran it lightly over the girl's tumbling blonde waves in the ghost of a caress.
That girl has the reckless, iron will of a Gryffindor. He marveled, and then blanched as he realized his own traitorous thoughts.
At his side, Tsai's dark eyes danced.