*Disclaimer: I don't own a ding dang thing. Everything belongs to the queen, J.K. Rowling*

Chapter One: The Present

September 1st, 2017

Draco stood on Platform 9 ¾ watching his wife straighten young Scorpius's robes. The near replica of a younger Draco Malfoy groaned and muttered something to Astoria about embarrassing him.

"Listen to your mother, son." Draco softly demanded. It was still early and the platform wasn't nearly as crowded as Draco was used to. That's exactly how the wizard preferred it, and yet he stayed until the platform filled with families of students boarding the train excitedly. It had gotten to the point where there was nearly no room to move.

He didn't stay to make sure his son boarded the train without trouble. He didn't stay to catch up with old classmates. He stayed for the chance to see her. A woman he hadn't seen nor spoken to in almost seven years.

Then finally there she was 100 yards away. She stood there with a warm smile on her face that could melt even his own icy exterior. He stared at her and watched as she hugged her two children, who had fiery red hair just like their father.

"Darling, they're ready." Astoria's crisp voice entered his head, causing Draco to come back to reality. The toot of the train resonated throughout the station, drowning out the sounds of her laughter that had filled his mind.

Scorpius beamed up at his father, "Are you going to wish me luck, father?" Draco tore his eyes from the witch and looked down at his son. He could remember having the same feeling of admiration for his own father and immediately felt a distaste in his mouth.

Draco kneeled before his son and put a paternal hand on the young wizard's shoulder. "This is a very important year for you, son. It has the potential to determine the way the rest of your life plays out." He stopped himself and looked up, his eyes meeting Astoria's. She smiled and nodded, but she didn't understand the pressure of being a true Malfoy. That's not what he wanted for his son.

"I'll make you proud, father." Scorpius proclaimed, turning to board the train. Draco grabbed his hand before his foot met the first step and turned him around.

"Make yourself proud, Scorpius. Don't be a follower." Scorpius's face twisted in confusion. Draco shook his head and smiled at his son. "Come, give your father a hug before you go." Scorpius obliged his father and made his way back to the train, colliding with a red-haired girl.

"Oops!" The girl stepped back. Draco watched with his hands balled in fists, hoping the next moment wouldn't end in the typical playground fight.

Scorpius turned his head and his stony face relaxed. "No, I'm sorry. Whoa, your hair is like fire!"

"Thank you, I think? I'm Rose. Rose Weasley." She held out her hand. Scorpius shook it.

"I'm Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy."

Draco turned his head to where she was standing. A delicate hand rested on the place above her heart, her eyes locked on their children's interaction. She blinked those sweet brown eyes and turned to face Draco. That one look made it feel as if the whole world had disappeared and everything went back to the way it was; the way it should have been. He remembered the way her lips curved upward before she covered her mouth with her hands to hide her smile, the smile that was always reserved for him. Now, it seemed that smile belonged to the father of her children.

He lowered his eyes. Perhaps it had been a mistake to stay so long. He would be lying to himself if he said seeing her had stirred something within him, because the truth was the feeling had never left. His heart had always and would always belong to one Hermione Jean Granger… Or Weasley, as it had been changed in recent months.

"Oh!" Astoria gasped, "We best be off, my love. We have a meeting with a start-up apothecary in Glasglow shortly. Mustn't be late." They waved goodbye to their son who had found a seat with Rose Weasley and left, but not before Draco stole one last glance at Hermione. The light in her eyes left, but she still smiled and saw her children off.

Draco was early to his meeting with Sherman Suncrest, a disorganized but ultimately intelligent young warlock, who was looking for investors. Draco had ordered a scotch on the rocks the moment they walked in and babied it the entire time, gazing into the fire which only further reminded him that Hermione had chosen Weasley over himself.

Suncrest bumbled on about his mission statement and financials but Draco wasn't at all there. Lucky for him, Astoria had insisted on being a presence whenever business opportunities arose.

After two and a half hours of the boy, who was only a year out of school, stumbling over his words and jumping from one possibility to the next, he stopped and breathed.

"So what do you think, Mr. Malfoy?" Suncrest was on the edge of his seat, a slight sheen of nervous perspiration covered his face. Draco didn't answer. He had been staring into the fire place the entire time.

"Ahem." Astoria cleared her throat, but he still didn't move. Quick on her feet, and with enough knowledge from her sit-ins, Astoria turned to the young warlock with an apologetic smile.

"While your ideas for this business are ambitious, your plan is lacking a bit. Have you given any thought to working with a partner?" She discussed a revisit in the future with Suncrest while Draco drowned himself in his thoughts. He didn't even notice when she got up from the table.

"We can't do this, Draco." Hermione cried.

"Why not?" He snarled back.

"I don't understand you, Draco." A cold, pale hand met his own; oh, but how he longed for the warmth of another. "What's gotten into you?" Her voice was low in the crowded tavern. The Malfoy family was still constantly in the media, and the last thing she needed was bad press.

"Nothing. Why don't you go home? I think I'll call on Zabini." Astoria hesitated, looking hard into Draco's grey eyes, but he looked away calling for another drink. Defeated, she left without another word.

Draco spent the rest of the day getting progressively drunk. Deciding it would be better to not risk splinching himself, he took up room in the tavern and stayed there for the next three days.

Astoria was seething at him by the time he finally made it back to Malfoy Manor, spewing words like "irresponsible" and "childish", and then "twattish". He was still nursing a hangover, sat in a hard wooden chair in the kitchen when she tore him a new one.

After huffing and puffing, her once pretty face now purple, she glared daggers at him out of anything else to say. She whimpered, collapsing into a wooden chair opposite Draco. Her eyes were glazed over.

"You still love her." It wasn't a question, but a statement that slipped between Astoria's lips. She hoped he would argue with her that it wasn't true, but his head gave a slight nod and that was all she needed.

Over the next few weeks, Astoria was distant which Draco quite enjoyed. The only problem was that the usual buzz of her presence helped to distract him a little bit from thinking about her. Now that his distraction was gone, all he did was replay memories in his head over and over again. He wanted nothing more than to find her and sweep her into his arms, but alas he could not.

"It's just not meant to be." He remembered her saying.

**** So what did you think? Any good? I hope you're prepared to be teased like mad, because this is going to be a long and drawn out story ****