Disclaimer: J K Rowling has also complained about sexually explicit Harry Potter fan fiction. However, lawyers on behalf of Ms. Rowling specifically noted that she has "no complaint about innocent fan fiction written by genuine Harry Potter fans."

Most of the characters in, and the basic idea of, this fanfic belong to J K Rowling and the story conforms to her wishes about fan fiction.

Many thanks for your reviews, sparkie926, Avengers4EVER, libbypotter and Barricade Butterfly. I'll try and explain more about the new House, Columbidae, later in the story. :)

***chapter 2***

***Astoria***

"Scorp was nervous. I hope he's okay," Draco said, dusting himself down as they apparated back home. Even after all this time he never could bear to get his robes dirty, and he still preferred to look impeccable whenever he could.

"Oh, he will be," his wife confidently replied. "I cast a Deepsleep Slumberspell. Not the actual wand spell of course. I worked out nine left wand twirls and twenty-two right would be just enough to relax him without actually putting him asleep, then I mixed it in potion form and let it stand overnight to weaken it," She chattered on happily, busy shaking a smoothshine through her long hair to get rid of the smell of train smoke, and not noticing her husband's face. "Then I drank it this morning and whispered it in his ear when I gave him that last hug so he didn't suspect a thing."

"Astoria!" Draco was staring at her, horrified. "That's the completely wrong calculation for the wand twirls! And what you did doesn't weaken Deepsleep, it strengthens it! You've not only put Scorpius in a deep sleep, you've put him out of step with time so that he and all his belongings are at this very moment invisible! In fact, judging by when you cast it..." he ignored the muggle clock and gazed out at the sky, working out shadows, clouds, sunlight and weather rhythms "...and the strong possibility of rain, he probably won't begin to appear again until shortly before the Sorting."

"Oh, poor Scorpius!" Astoria was stricken. Her hand shot to her mouth and she paled, her skin tone rivalling the large portrait of Narcissa Malfoy that hung above the fireplace, as she sank guiltily into a wing-backed easy chair, one of the few more luxurious items of furniture left over from Malfoy Manor's grander days.

Draco ran his fingers through his now thinning hair, hesitant to console her. It wasn't that he didn't love Astoria. He genuinely cared about his wife and son, but he had been brought up to believe emotion should always be hidden away lest the enemy detect weakness and gain the upper hand. Except there were no enemies these days. Not strictly speaking. So he knew it was quite alright to show more tender feelings without fear of a wand striking him in the back. It was just...sooo damn hard overcoming the initial uncertainty about it not being the done thing in pure-blood circles.

And then tears sprang to Astoria's eyes and tugged at his heart.

"It's okay, Tori, it's okay. Scorp will be fine when it wears off. He won't even remember the journey." He sat on the arm of the chair and rubbed her back gently, pleased when the words and action elicited a small smile. It never failed to amaze him how good her smiles could make him feel. Nor how he had ended up marrying someone he once despised. And even learnt to love her.

Astoria Greengrass had barely registered on his radar in her first few years at Hogwarts, partly because she was three years younger, mostly because he was far too busy bringing the so-called Golden Trio to heel and being the great Draco Malfoy, destined for power and glory as a Death Eater. Despite being of pure-blood stock and from a particularly noble and ambitious wizard family, she was by far and away the quietest member of Slytherin House. Her older sister, Daphne, regarded her as an embarrassment and wanted nothing at all to do with her and there were even unconfirmed rumours that she thought mudbloods should be equals. His earliest memories of Astoria were vague although he did recollect she was good entertainment value as she was inevitably being hexed by someone.

Her first term, her classmate Oscar Cashstone had remarked the Sorting Hat definitely had an off day when it placed Mouldy Greenteeth into Slytherin. Draco had snickered along with the rest, enjoying her discomfort when she fled from the common room, realising too late Oscar didn't find her attractive as he'd been pretending to, and wasn't being attentive to impress her when he'd poured her a second glass of pumpkin juice at dinner. The nickname stuck throughout school even though the effects of the mouldy teeth wore off within the week. Occasionally, Draco too joined in the fun game of taunting Mouldy, but generally she was beneath his notice. Serve her right if she got hexed. Sometimes she'd be seen chatting with a half-blood or even a mudblood and Slytherins didn't tolerate blood traitors.

When his world came crashing down however, and he was tasked with killing Dumbledore, he noticed Greengrass a little more. After his father's fall from grace, while everybody else in Slytherin was disassociating themselves from the name of Malfoy, now and then she'd give him a look of...sympathy. Well, he had more pride than that, for Merlin's sake! Draco Malfoy did not need pity from a geek who didn't have any friends, thank you very much. Even though he didn't have any friends either.

But the first time he really noticed Astoria was just after the Battle of Hogwarts. Greengrass had gone back and fought with Dumbledore's Army. Which had been no earthly use, as she never could point a wand straight, but at least she'd been brave enough to take a stand against the Dark Lord. Unlike himself.

Afterwards, dazed and confused, shocked, exhausted, jubilant, lost, relieved Voldemart was dead, terrified of a world where mudbloods rose to power, Draco sat between his parents in the Great Hall, absently watching Luna Lovegood shuffle along the bench to make room for Mouldy, some of the students clap her on the back, Professor McGonagall stop and offer her personal congratulations.

And the way the sunlight caught her hair.

A tiny flicker of shame burned within him that she had challenged Voldemart while he'd been afraid to, but he quickly extinguished it. Greengrass never had to choose between killing Dumbledore or having her family killed. Greengrass had never been forced to torture under threat of being tortured. Greengrass had it easy. Greengrass had...

...beautiful hair. It was long and dark and reached almost to her waist and cascaded over her shoulders like a fountain...

Yeh, well, who cared? Mouldy never had to hide out alone in the Room of Requirement or practise how to kill with poisoned mead and cursed necklaces. Mouldy had only ever had to worry about schoolwork and exams and being hexed. Mouldy had...

...a good figure. And, now he came to think of it, pretty brown eyes and a nice smile...

He pulled himself together. Like it was ever going to happen. After their defection, the Malfoy name was going to be, ironically, mud among pure-blood families.

Oddly enough, however, it did happen. Thanks to their youngest daughter's inexplicable decision to fight against the superiority of pure-bloods, Sir Walquint and Lady Amethelia Greengrass found themselves, as the news travelled around the wizarding world, in the embarrassing position of being boycotted by certain pure-blood families who, like themselves, had taken no part whatsoever in Voldemort's War, but who secretly supported it. And so they invited the three Malfoys to their latest ball, because they needed to make up the numbers, because even in reduced circumstances Narcissa carried elegance to perfection, and because they knew the Malfoys were rather desperate and would bite their hands off.

"Dress Code: Formal; Best Wizarding Party Robes" the invitation glowed in large green and gold letters at the window of Malfoy Manor after arriving in a puff of smoke. They turned up at Greengrass Hall in their only wizarding party robes - Lucius had lost a fortune in backing Voldemart and the Ministry of Magic had confiscated a great deal more in payment towards War damages – and still slightly startled that after three years they'd been invited anywhere.

Astoria was hiding out in a corner. "My family prefer me to keep a low profile and not dance," she explained. "They don't approve of me ever since I fought with Dumbledore's Army."

"So what are you doing these days?" he asked, keen to change the subject, and not remind her of the hard time he gave her back at Hogwarts. Wouldn't do to make any more enemies than the Malfoys already had. Which was pretty much everyone. Fortunately it looked like Astoria had forgiven and forgotten incidents like Draco hexing her into bouncing down the stairs because he was bored. She always was a soft touch, he thought smugly.

"Beauty consultant to pure-blood witches. I go to their castles and country homes to style hair and advise on cosmetics. I hate it. All the rich bi...witches ever talk about is how superior pure-bloods are. I think they only do it to annoy me. I'm a kind of pariah since I fought against Voldemort, you see. But Daddy won't employ me in his banking company because I'm terrible at Maths. I never could work out multiple wand spells or how many logarithms are required to create triangular mysteries...or is it triangular mysteries that create logarithms?" She frowned, and he barely choked back a mocking laugh at her confusion with simple wizard sums. "What's life been like for you at Malfoy Manor?"

He grimaced. "Not much fun. Mum's lost all interest in magic and the Ministry of Magic permanently banned Dad from keeping a wand so he spends most of his time conducting harmless experimental spells with a Child's First Wand - it's the only one they'll allow him – and complaining about it. I work from home, translating ancient wizard documents into the four modern wizard languages. Thousands and thousands of books, dull as death, but we needed money and nobody would employ a Malfoy so the Ministry arranged it as a reward for Mum lying to the Dark Lord and saving Potter. And Mum gets a small monthly pension from the Black estate so we just about manage."

They chatted easily for a while. Greengrass either had a very bad memory or didn't bear grudges so it looked like he'd gotten away with everything. Draco couldn't help smirking, his old arrogance resurfacing. It was a long, long time since he'd felt superior to anyone and it was a nice feeling. He knew he'd begun to talk down to Astoria, but, what the Hell, if Mouldy was that bad at Maths she was probably too dim to notice, and he needed an ego boost. He also knew he was incredibly handsome, with his silver-grey eyes and white-blond hair and girls were always flattered when he paid them any attention. So he laid it on thick while admiring his incredibly handsome reflection in the ornate mirrors opposite, confident Astoria Greengrass would soon be a giggling, simpering idiot. But when he stood to fetch a couple more butterbeers his feet felt like they were stuck in treacle, his arms whipped up into the air of their own accord and Draco fell flat on his face. Hoots of laughter from the party guests followed the stunned silence as he picked himself up, his face red as fire.

Astoria smiled sweetly and he caught sight of the wand hidden behind her back. "Don't mess with me, Malfoy," she murmured so that only he heard. "I haven't forgotten Hogwarts and I'm no pushover. And fortunately I didn't need arithmetic for that hex."

Her eyes flashed dangerously with the warning he'd met his match and suddenly he thought of it all again. His envy of her bravery, Luna Lovegood shuffling along the bench, McGonagall stopping to offer her personal congratulations. And he realised something. If he hadn't been too wrapped up in being his own biggest fan, he'd have opened his eyes to the fact he had a massive crush on Astoria Greengrass. He'd had a massive crush on her ever since that magic moment when the sunlight caught her hair. And he realised something else. For the very first time in his life, the great Draco Malfoy was in love with somebody other than himself.

XXXXX

Sixteen years later, husband and wife for thirteen of them, Astoria and Draco sat together worried about their only son. As the majority of parents who, that very day, had waved their precious young witch or wizard off to Hogwarts for their very first term understandably were. The trouble was, they had more to worry about than most. They both knew a lot more than most about bullying from both ends of the scale. And that Malfoy was definitely not the best name to own at Hogwarts to if you hoped to avoid it...