1. September, Part I: Letters from the Past
1 September 2016
The Ivory Manor
Unplottable lands in Carneddau Mountains
Snowdonia, Wales, Wizarding Britain
"Children, please excuse your mother and I. We must speak privately."
In another time, over two decades ago, Lucius would have only had to ask one child to leave the room so that he could speak privately to his wife about a disturbing, urgent matter.
Draco had been the only Malfoy child, back then.
He'd also been plainly curious, bordering on nosy, and would have made quiet a fuss about why he couldn't be included in a clearly important conversation, as the Malfoy heir. He'd have taken his time slinking out of the room. He would shamelessly be hoping to catch a stray word or piece of conversation before the door closed on him and the Privacy Spell was activated. Draco would have listened to Lucius's quiet, brief command - but, he'd have not been happy about it.
As it was, Draco was no longer a Malfoy nor the Malfoy heir.
Lucius swallowed against the tightness in his throat. Acknowledging that Draco was simply Draco, their son but no longer a part of their family...it was always hurt, no matter how greatly improved things had become since the Estrangement Ritual that had formally Disowned Draco from the House of Malfoy, decades ago.
Narcissa frowned at him in worry, as their children departed the solarium, obediently and without any fuss at all.
Eridanus, his youngest son but never his spare, hugged him briefly, tightly around the waist with the freely flowing affection that made him such a joy; he was humming a senseless tune, his little voice carrying a note pleasantly. Caelum, the only Malfoy heir there now was but his dark looks like his mother's bloodline, rolled his eyes at his far too jolly little brother. Lucius accepted a kiss on the cheek from Antares, his only daughter, who shut the door behind her soundly, the privacy and silencing wards pulsing into place.
"Lucius, what's the matter?" Narcissa asked at once. Her distressed frown was one that he rarely saw these days and hated to be the cause of when it did happen. "What's so serious that you had to excuse the children?"
Lucius sighed, heavily. He reached into the breast pock of his dragonhide vest, pulling out two letters and holding them gravely, for his wife to see.
"This came today, Cissy."
"Well, what is it?" demanded Narcissa, a touch impatiently.
The navy blue envelope with a bright scarlet seal didn't look familiar at all, but the plain parchment envelope could have been anything at all.
A letter from Andromeda. The scheduled report from Gringotts from the children's vault manager concerning their spending habits. A copy of academic records from Beauxbatons for Antares to have now that she was finished schooling and seeking Mastery Apprenticeships. Quite literally, the nondescript letter could be anything.
Something about not knowing what had her husband so - unsettled? - was beginning to make her anxious.
"This one is from Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Lucius, brandishing the plain envelope toward her. "It is, by all appearances, the traditional invitation to attend Hogwarts for next year, the 2017 school year."
Narcissa frowned even deeper, but this time, in confusion. "A Hogwarts letter? That doesn't make any sense." Their daughter was finished with her schooling, turning eighteen in a few short weeks, while Caelum was thirteen and only a handful of years into his schooling. The youngest of their children was only five. None of their children were of Hogwarts age, but even if they were - "Malfoys no longer send our children to Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall is well aware of this," she added coldly.
Lucius briefly sneered at the mention of the Headmistress and her school.
"This isn't for any of our children, Cissy." Lucius stepped closer to where she was sitting on a bench, surrounded by enchanted azaleas and ivy. He held the letter out for her to see. "This letter is for Draco's son - his last son, Scorpius."
Narcissa put a trembling hand up, as if to touch the letter - then, quickly brought her hand back down, as if stopping herself from doing something she shouldn't.
In another time, in another world altogether very different from this, the arrival of a Hogwarts letter for Draco's son would had given her great pride, as a grandmother.
Narcissa let herself imagine. Only for a moment.
Draco had been betrothed to the middle Greengrass daughter, Astoria. Scorpius would have been their son, pureblood and perfect and treasured, his Hogwarts letter would have been proof that another generation of pureblood magic thrived. Scorpius would have spent his childhood at Malfoy Manor, it would have been perfectly natural for Lucius to receive the letter as the Lord of the House and give it over to Draco, who'd proudly present it to his son -
The moment passed, as it always did.
It wasn't even a memory to hold onto or cherish.
It was simply a deeply buried longing for a simpler life from a witch approaching her cronehood and truly realizing the cost of the mistakes made in her youth.
Instead of the glorious future she and Lucius had planned out so meticulously, all that they had left was this bitter reality.
Draco was only their son but no longer a part of the Malfoy family. He'd arranged for his own disinheritance, a Disowning that had made him no longer the Malfoy heir - but, a son of his mother's maiden house, a Black of the extinct House of Black. He'd willingly forfeited everything that was left, as the Malfoy heir, and there had been nothing for him to accept as he took on the name of Draco Black, the son of a House that no longer lived and had died with Sirius Black, decades ago.
His conviction and imprisonment in Azkaban had nullified his betrothal to the Greengrass girl, which Narcissa resented to this day because it had left him open set upon the path that had led to this world so strange.
There was no Malfoy Manor for any of them to await a Hogwarts letter at, for the Ministry for Magic had seized the entire Malfoy estate in reparations after the war. If it weren't for her untouched inheritance as one of the last daughters of the House of Black, the Malfoy family would have been left destitute, no longer even worthy to be an Ancient House, a noble pureblood family.
Narcissa still wasn't used to it, all these years later.
"There isn't even supposed be a Hogwarts letter for Draco's son." Narcissa stated, as if it would make the conflicting missive disappear. "It is a mistake. Draco's son is not British. Draco hasn't even been British, since the end of the war. This letter isn't supposed to be here."
Lucius rolled his eyes, much like his Caelum had on his way out a few minutes ago.
"Well, yes - you and I know that that's what is known of Draco." Lucius tried not to dwell too hard on the practiced half-truth Narcissa had just spoken of, the essential lie that made sure that nobody came to close to knowing anything of Draco's true life, these days. "However, as you can see, the proof is in the Hogwarts letter. Exactly what I suspected is true. Draco may want to continue denying the reality of his son's birth, but it is no more avoiding it."
Narcissa huffed, looking down at the ivy and azaleas whose enchantments had worn off.
"Lucius, if we bring this to Draco and his wife...I fear it will undo all the progress that has been made over the past decade. You know their wishes about Britain. They made it clear that is a - what does the girl call it? - hard boundary they wish to not be violated and if so, he...he might very well distance himself from us again."
Lucius didn't deny the truth of this.
For the sake of his wife, a witch who Lucius had never in his wildest dreams imagined would one day be introduced to him as his daughter-in-law and the mother of his grandchildren, Draco had very strict rules and expectations for their interactions. It was one of the conditions of a continued relationship with his family. Lucius would have been mightily proud of what a dedicated and sincere husband his son had turned to be.
If only it weren't for the wife he'd chosen to be said husband to.
Lucius pushed past the rush of bitterness he'd always feel toward the witch his son had chosen above all, even his own name.
The navy envelope he held was held out to Narcissa, who took it this time, unlike the Hogwarts letter.
The emblem of the Order of the Phoenix was a sight that made her stomach clench up, uncomfortably.
The former band of ragtag vigilantes that had belonged to Dumbledore in the First and Second Wars was only a shadowy memory, the lesser known roots of what the Order had become under the leadership of their national hero, Harry Potter. The powerful and far-reaching organization was something very different, these days, and Narcissa was instantly worried.
"What does the Order of the Phoenix have to do with a Hogwarts letter that was never meant to come to Draco's child to begin with?" asked Narcissa in a hushed, tight voice.
"From what this notice says? The Malfoy family is officially warned that if Scorpius doesn't answer his Hogwarts letter, they will do a welfare check to see why he hasn't and assist, if needed." Lucius's eyes were cold, as he bitterly declared: "In other words, this is the second letter they've sent that's gone unanswered. If there is no answer, Draco's son is going to assumed to have run afoul of his family - and they'll likely come breaking down our doors to find out why."
Narcissa let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Of course! Of course that's what it says, because how could Potter resist not sticking his nose where it doesn't belong!"
Lucius sneered. "I would agree, Cissy. The fact remains, however - this makes it imperative that we make Draco aware of what's going on. Whether he likes it or not."
Narcissa looked away from her husband and the letters.
A decade of peace that was slow in the making and was still sometimes tenuous at best...
It would all be gone, if they ignored their son and his wife's wishes that they never be told about anything that had to do with Britain again.
Draco was determined that all that was who he had been as Draco Malfoy was to be left in Britain.
He'd accepted the terms of parole set by the Ministry for Magic and enforced by the Order of the Phoenix, which dictated that he would be exiled from Wizarding Britain for a period that lasted no less than fifteen years. Narcissa had been counting down every day of those fifteen years, which had finally ended this past June. She'd mourned his departure as if he'd died, but unlike many mothers coping with a loss - she, at least, had the hope that one day, they'd be free of the fallout of the Dark Lord's war and they'd be together again.
Draco hadn't thought or felt the same, apparently.
Wizarding Britain was scorched earth for Draco. Along with his wife, their son had a fierce, unbreakable, no tolerance policy for anything to do with Wizarding Britain.
"If we tell Draco about this - if we bring this disruption into their lives, we will lose Draco all over again. I know it, Lucius." Narcissa looked up at her husband, her startling blue eyes glassy with unshead tears. "We have been doing so well all these years. We've been so present and allowed to know his children, despite his wife and all her rules. I...Lucius, I don't want to lose that. Any part of it. Surely, this Hogwarts letter will..."
Lucius shook his head stubbornly.
"I won't allow it to happen again, Narcissa. I give you my word." Lucius held the letters aloft in his hand intently, his mercurial-gray eyes flinty with a look she knew well, after nearly forty years of marriage. "Draco will not only not be lost to us again, as he was with Azkaban and then with migrating to the South Pacific - I give you my word, Draco and his family will return home to Britain. They will return home to us."
Narcissa wiped under her eyes carefully, gathering away the tears that she'd been determine to not shed. With a tired sigh, Narcissa plainly shared with her husband: "I don't have enough in to me to deal with another heartbreak, as it concerns, Draco, love. I simply don't."
"And you won't have to."
Narcissa eyed him, warily.
"Draco will return home to us, as he should be now that his parole is completed and he is allowed to come back to England. This simple goal is accomplished by one fact, one truth that is valuable as it is undeniable, and we are privy to, because of our son."
"What fact would this be?" asked Narcissa, already wondering how to feel about the obvious confirmation that Lucius was about to set off upon one of his schemes again. "What grand and valuable and undeniable truth do we know that will to the impossible and have Draco and his wife return their family to England?" she questioned, wryly.
"The truth is that Draco's wife is none other than Hermione Granger. The same Hermione Granger who is a national hero of Wizarding Britain, an icon for Muggleborn civil rights, and a beloved public figure who tragically died before her time, due to her part in defeating the Dark Lord." Lucius sneered, as he viciously added: "Or, so the grand lie supposedly goes. We know the truth. The truth is in our son, in our son's children - one of which, is Scorpius, the only British-born of their children. Even if it was completely by accidental, tragic circumstances."
Narcissa caught on with a stinging quickness, something awakening her as she realized what her husband was saying.
"Oh, what wouldn't they give to continue concealing the truth that the renowned Hermione Granger faked her death, married our son, and is living under an assumed identity in Australia with their children," murmured Narcissa in a low voice. It was the truth, no matter how scandalous and unthinkable it sounded to say aloud. Only three people besides Draco and his wife knew the truth that had gone unknown for fifteen years - and Lucius and Narcissa were two of them. "It would be the shock of the century, if somehow, the Wizarding public discovered the truth about the world that Potter and his associates have been so carefully crafting in their image since the end of the war."
Lucius smiled with an edge of coldness that still somehow warmed Narcissa.
"Draco will return home, my beloved, and this letter from Hogwarts is what starts us on the path to that reality. Trust me. Trust me and you still see my promise come to life..."