Seventh year hadn't been quite what anyone was expecting. With the death of many students, Hogwarts had been hurting for students. The repairs were easy enough to fix, but the lack of population wasn't. In the end, Hermione had convinced Harry to return for his seventh year, prompting him with options that were less dangerous than his desired career. He had stuck with his choice of becoming an Auror for so long because so many had told him that he never would become one. Now that he had a job offer available whenever he wanted it, he'd been a bit disillusioned by the future of violence. He had plenty of power and skill, but that job would require much more. When Hermione had suggested that he should take a few NEWTs in the summer and return to take whatever he wanted to, he had reluctantly accepted. He'd ended up adding Arithmancy; he had a talent with it and the jobs that it opened up were a bit less dangerous. Finally, he'd announced that he would be returning for his final year. That announcement caused just enough people to return so as to give Hogwarts a full seventh year class. Many had still decided to move on, including most of his former classmates. Dean would return, but Ron had decided not to. Neville was helping Professor Sprout with Herbology, but in the role of a teacher rather than a student. Ginny had left entirely choosing to complete her seventh year from afar. She had been offered a spot on the Holyhead Harpies as a starting chaser -she hadn't been willing to pass that up.
In the end, they'd had three from their year and four from the year beneath them sharing the boys dorm. The Gryffindor girls hadn't had that many. It was the same situation throughout the school. Due to this, Harry had been allowed back on the Quidditch team. It was a relief, really. After the horrors of war, Quidditch was the one place he could truly relax. He grabbed his broom and headed out to the pitch. It was the first game of the season.
It had been a loss, but he didn't think about that. He was ensnared by something different, completely different. Her. The whole time he'd flown in circles, looking for the snitch, she'd been practically calling out to him. She was beautiful. How he'd ever missed it was beyond him. Her hair had tamed over the years; it no longer was bushy. her smile had long since been changed. He'd noticed her watching him. He desperately wanted it to mean something, not because he was one of the players in the air. Because she actually cared. She was intelligent, she was passionate about life, and she stood up for her beliefs. He knew he had passed infatuated sometime in third year, but he wanted nothing more than to be hers. It was insane. He'd always been proud of his power and control, but he felt he felt powerless to fight this off. That fling she'd had with Ron Weasley hadn't continued long, so he needn't worry about him butting in. He put up his broom and went to shower off. He knew Hermione had to stay out at the pitch until the last of the spectators had left, courtesy of Head Girl duties. She'd still be out there after he cleaned up. He grabbed a towel and stripped down..
"If I fall for you, I won't ever recover," he whispered to himself. "If I fall for you, I won't ever be the same." He wouldn't; he would be all the better for it.
Harry ran into Hermione as he exited the Quidditch locker room. He quickly walked up to her and pulled her into a hug. She laughed when rivulets of water from his wet hair dripped on her forehead.
"Everyone has headed back to the castle," she told him.
"You waited for me?"
"Of course," she smiled. "How could I leave my best friend out here alone? What type of friend would I be then?"
He paused at the word friend. Harry hated it, but it set off a dull ache, one he was determined to remedy.
"Come flying with me?" he pleaded.
"Oh Harry," she sighed. "You know flying isn't my cup of tea."
He kicked the grass softly with the toe of his trainers.
"Fine. But this once only. And not too high."
He took off with her wrapped around him. His pace was one that would have made Neville Longbottom look like a reckless flyer. Finally, she relaxed. As they touched back down to earth, he took a chance. He'd always rushed into things, but never with her. She was too important to lose. He knew he'd lose her if he didn't take the chance though.
"Hermione," he trailed off.
"That was fun," she confided, her cheeks pink with excitement.
Harry exhaled sharply. He was mesmerized. She was so beautiful. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her face. She leaned into his touch, and he took a chance. He leaned in and kissed her.
She didn't pull away, he noted with surprise. Instead, she kissed him back with increased fervor. He thanked every lucky star that he had, wrapping his arms around her as he held her more tightly. Finally, they broke apart.
"Congratulations on the win," she whispered softly, meeting his eyes. They both smiled and he reached out for her hand shyly.
Neither noticed that they were being watched.
Draco stood at the exit of the Slytherin locker room, letting the towel fall from his hands. He'd showered as quickly as he could, and had still been toweling off his hair when he saw her with him. He knew instantly that any hope he had of winning her over was gone. Potters had a thing for the smartest witches. It was a lost cause. He felt insane, thinking he ever might have had a chance with her. She'd never liked him, and he'd tormented her far too much. He turned and strode back into the locker room, sinking coldly to the floor. He had been taught that family was everything in life, but being a Malfoy would never have won him this battle.
He grimaced bitterly. He would always be a Malfoy. Failure here had been written into their motto. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity would always conquer within his family, whether he wanted it to or not. He'd never had a chance.
Twenty two years had passed since that fateful day. Draco Malfoy stood on the platform with his mother and his wife, waiting to pick up their daughter and son from the Hogwarts Express for Winter Holliday. His son was a third year and a better person than Draco could have ever hoped to be at that age. He was very certain that was due to his mother and wife, rather than anything he could have contributed. But his daughter was very much his own. Scorpia Malfoy had all the beauty and grace that Narcissa had possessed, yet she clearly had his personality. She wasn't spoilt but she had his brains and his hot-headed temper. She'd been the first of the family without the taint of blood purity on her- she'd fervently preferred purity of knowledge and hope to any of that nonsense. She had never been a candidate for Slytherin, instead choosing Ravenclaw. He couldn't have cared less. As long as she was happy, he was as well. His wife had been worried when the owl had winged home with a letter written in cobalt blue, but Draco had always had faith in his daughter's decisions. He hadn't batted an eye at the news. However, when she had sent a note along saying she would be introducing them to her boyfriend, he had been a bit wary. She was in her sixth year so age wasn't a problem, but boyfriends were a completely different territory.
"Dad!"
He turned, only to pale slightly. Green eyes and messy brown hair. Trademark glasses. It was her son.
Scorpia Malfoy ran up to them, a young man in tow.
"Dad, this is my boyfriend, Albus Potter. Albus, this is my father."
Draco looked at his mother and they both nodded before welcoming Albus warmly. They each had never had a chance with this family, but they would do everything possible to ensure that Scorpia had that chance. He walked over and firmly shook the hands of Harry and Hermione Potter. He would do everything to give his daughter the best chance at happiness. Hopefully, the purity of her heart would win this war. It certainly wouldn't hurt that she was the smartest witch in her year.
Written for the Big/Lil Sister Competition. Prompts: Quidditch Pitch, power, cup of tea, Albus II/Scorpius, "If I fall for you, I'll never recover / If I fall for you, I'll never be the same", insane.
Sanctimonia Vincet Semper= Purity Will Always Conquer. It is the phrase on the Malfoy crest.