Author's notes

WARNING! Trigger: there is mention of torture in this chapter.

Translation by Jessinthedungeons.


Chapter 14 - Beneath Scorpion's Light


The first thing I noticed was that he looked older — a thought I realized was dumb because, of course, he was. We were both adults now, no longer scared children and on opposite sides of a war. He still looked elegant, something that would probably never change. It was strangely comforting to know that although some terrible things had changed us, there was still something constant in our nature.

My memories of him, from our time at Hogwarts, had made me create a detailed image in my head of what he should be like: thin, pale and with mockery stamped on his cold gray eyes, and wearing long hair, just like the father he always tried to imitate. But Draco's real version was nowhere near that. Not that he was ever described as ugly in his life, a fact that hasn't changed in these past four years. But the passage of time only served to make him even more aesthetically attractive, which was such a frivolous thought that I instantly rejected it.

Draco was taller than I remembered, yet thin and pale yes, but not in the hollow and almost translucent way of when he had lived through the hell of having Voldemort as a murderous guest in his family house. Time, and a little facial hair, had erased any infantile trace in his features, but in a not so refined way, a fact that placed him away of the image of Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps also by the hair, he did not wear it long, it was short and with a Bangs thrown to the right, forming a perfectly combed tuft.

I did not avoid his eyes, aware that I looked at him courageously. And he returned me an unreadable look, but the twitching in his jaw gave me a glimpse of what seemed like a strange mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The weight of his gaze was disturbing and uncomfortable, but I struggled with these feelings. I barely recognized myself in this scenario where, in the past, we would be antagonizing each other, and now we were standing facing each other, unable to speak.

His eyes scanned me from my feet to my face, so fast I almost lost it. But I'm Hermione Granger and thinking fast is one of my best traits, and for that reason, I realized that just in that look, Draco had evaluated me almost as thoroughly as I had him. This perception made my pulse accelerate, almost as in anticipation of a duel, but I did not have my wand at hand, it was tucked inside my bag hanging from my left shoulder.

I had to say something. The air between us was too tense to remain silent, I opted for something simple. His name.

— Malf… — I began to speak, until I remembered that Malfoy was one of the erased members of the tapestry of his own family. He seemed to understand that I was aware of this fact when he finally spoke.

— Draco, please. I'm out of last names now.

I searched his face for a hint of emotion that should accompany a statement of this magnitude, but I saw nothing noticeable. It seemed a lot like a conundrum to me, knowing how much he bothers about not having a last name. I knew little about Draco's developments with the family, just what Victor told me, but I didn't think it was a topic to be addressed in front of the little boy who curiously spied on our interaction.

We both looked away at the child who was watching us. Draco landed one of his hands on the little one's back and gently pushed him forward.

— This is my son. — He spoke with a careful softness in his voice that, I noticed, did not drown out the vibrating note of a latent emotion and too similar to a staunch sense of protection. — Scorpius, this is Miss Granger.

I knelt down, to get closer to him at the time, and when Scorpius turned his head at me, I came across the bluest eyes I had ever seen in a person. Warm and bright, not at all like his father's, although I noticed the stubbornness and cunning intelligence in them, traits he probably inherited from the man above both of us. But there was also that childish curiosity typical of children. I smiled politely in greeting and saw the tips of his ears turn red. Scorpius briefly looked down and my smile widened instantly. For one reason only: the little boy was adorable; nothing haughty and proud like his father was when we were children. The boy was softer, nothing insensitive, and the more I looked at him, the more I could say that there was something affectionate in him.

Leaning a little further, I offered my hand for him to shake.

— I'm Hermione.

Scorpius looked at my hand for several moments, but the blush on his face intensified more and he made no movement to accept it, simply raising his eyes to his father's, in a silent cry for help. Although the child in front of me had not accepted my greeting, it did not feel like a rejection, because Scorpius looked back at me in a way that young children often do: curious to meet someone they had never seen before.

— Scorpius is very shy, Granger. — Malfoy said. — Do not be offended that he does not talk to you. I make sure to talk to him normally, even though I know I won't get a response.

— Oh, right. — I muttered, getting up from my crouching position.

— But don't be fooled. He can talk, Granger. Only stubbornly chooses not to do it in front of strangers.

It was something so Slytherin to be done that I suppressed my laugh, disguising it as a cough that didn't fool them either. Draco frowned, and Scorpius looked at me with a dull expression. Before the moment became embarrassing, I cleared my throat as I rummaged through my bag in search of the house key.

— Do you guys want to come in? — I asked as soon as I opened the door, extending an arm in the direction of my small room.

As soon as we walked in, I saw Scorpius reach the tip of his father's coat, in an obvious sign of excitement, as he pointed his little finger at my television. Draco swept the room with his gaze and headed to the coffee table where, earlier that day, Severus had deposited the remote control. He stopped by the table, his eyes finding mine before reaching for the object. I shook my head slightly on a silent permission and my eyebrows went up high when I watched him turn on the device, and they almost hit my hairline when I saw him type in the children's channel number.

— I can hear you thinking, Granger. — He said, while watching Scorpius sit on the floor right in front of the television and be fascinated by the colorful images on the screen. — If you want to know, even if it is none of your business... — Despite his low tone of voice, his tenor carried irritation. — I allow my son to watch television for an hour daily, as long as he behaved the day before.

With this bizarre statement that wreaked havoc on my basic knowledge of Draco Malfoy, the man retreated to my kitchen table and settled into one of the chairs there, dropping the briefcase at his feet, while waiting for my answer. I know I should have been silent, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't explain my surprise.

— Your familiarity with muggle technology is amazing.

Gray eyes stared at me, and the small squeeze on his jaw hinted at his disapproval, barely noticeable, but I still saw it.

— In the same way that it is surprising that this judgment comes from you. — He answered. Just a few words, but as brutal as the blinking sharp blades of his eyes. Draco was dressed, armed and ready for an argument.

Because of his attitude, which sounded like the evil boy who despised me at school, I also prepared for battle. I crossed my arms on my chest to distract myself from the fact that his tone, words, expression and presence brought me even closer to the irritable edge that I had been trying to pull away from. I needed to take a deep breath until I felt my agitation receded enough for me to respond.

— It is not judgment if it is based on facts.

— Is that what you tell yourself, Granger? — Draco drummed his fingers on the wooden top of my table, while waiting for my answer.

But the intrigue in realizing that something else had changed about him kept me standing there. He did not speak my name as a curse or a filthy word that he needed to spit out of his mouth. It just sounded like my name. And to see that was horrible for me, because I realized that I had no idea who this man sitting in the middle of my kitchen was.

After several minutes of a tense silence, filled only by the noises of the television on in the next room, Draco sighed and, for some reason still unknown to me, I finally spoke.

— I have tea if you want.

Draco stopped drumming his fingers.

— Yeah, thanks.

I immediately set out to prepare the tea, as the man adjusted his chair to get a better view of where his son was sitting on the couch. It was a strangely sweet attitude and one that also did not match my expectation about my childhood enemy.

The whistle of the kettle was loud in silence and I picked up two cups in the closet, pouring green tea for us, without bothering to add anything beyond that. I left one of them next to him, sat at the opposite end of the table, and kept my eyes trained on him as I tried to figure out a way to ask why he came to my house. I decided that being direct was the best option.

— Will your visit to my house become a regular occurrence or is today a special occasion?

Draco stopped the cup halfway to his mouth. He did this by narrowing his eyes into a glow that was hot enough to make the tea in his hands boil in case he still had magic in his veins.

— Unfortunately, it seems that we will be interrupting each other's peace for the foreseeable future. — He took a sip of his own tea when he finished his sentence, indifferent to my puzzled look. — Viktor told me that you are researching anomalies about the extinction of magic.

— He told me about what happened. — I answered, taking a sip of my tea as well, while looking away at the door that gave access to the room.

— Very superficially, I'm sure. — Draco said, dragging his index finger through the veins of the wooden table top, his precise and sharp movements.

There was a vibe of interest on my part about how it all happened to Draco's muggle girlfriend, and from the age I assumed his son was, she was probably also the little boy's mother in my living room, which exponentially increased the list of questions about his past. But Draco had clearly not finished his own questions.

— How long have you been a healer? Last time I heard, you were considering being a Weasley.

— Three years. Your information is severely outdated.

— Hmm. — His noncompromising answer hovered in silence, until he continued. — I find it interesting that you have made a career of taking on charity projects, even though you are currently the most powerful witch.

My anger was instinctive.

— My patients are people, not projects. I doubt you would like to know that your mother was, for a while, one of what you refer to as "project".

— Project or person, means very little to me the work that Narcissa certainly paid an exorbitant fee for you to do. — He replied coldly.

— This work that you talk about so irreverently was about monitoring and possibly delaying long-term memory loss effects on her. — I returned and watched his face in search of any clues that he could subconsciously provide, but he did not demonstrate anything, his emotions were tightly locked. — I think it's an important job for her son, of all people.

— She doesn't have a child anymore. Viktor certainly told you this detail. — He returned biting, but I was not going to stop now that I was in front of the closest to Draco Malfoy I knew.

— Besides, I did not receive a salary from your mother. Saint Mungus did. I don't know what you're hinting at, but…

— I'm not hinting at anything, Granger. I'm just stating a fact. — He cut me. — Narcissa Malfoy is notorious for her extravagant spending. Money is not the point. — Shrugging, he shifted his attention for a moment, looking at his still distracted son in the next room. — I do not care about the terms of your contract with the hospital, I am more curious about your interest with erased members in magical tapestries. Why are you interested in that?

I got up from my chair, getting closer to him, not before picking up my wand in the bag, noticing how Draco's focus was restricted on it.

— I have my reasons.

— That's not an answer. — He hit back.

— Why do my reasons matter to you?

He raised his chin, surprised at the definitive tone of my voice.

— I do my business of knowing about things that especially involve me and my son.

— You are not an easy person, Mal... Draco. What second motives do I have in wanting to accept you as an object of study?

Bending his arms to his chest, he looked straight at me.

— You tell me. I left the Wizarding World. If that wasn't a signal for no one to pursue me and exploit me to prove a point, I don't know what else that would be.

It was not his words, but the implication beneath them that squeezed my anger the most.

— Do I look like someone who would exploit you? Better yet, are you the type to let yourself be exploited?

— No, now that I'm an ordinary person, at least. And as for your first question, I suppose it's a matter of character and I don't believe I know yours. — It was his answer, which seemed as frustrated as I myself felt. — My interest has only to do with how much you will bother me and my son, in the future.

Resting my cup of tea in the sink, I folded my arms.

— Okay. That really is a point, Draco. But regardless of what you think, how you feel, or your relationship with your old family, there will come a time when you will have to get involved as well. Even more so now that you showed up here with a child of your own. Because even if his mother is a Muggle and excluding the fact that he's not an abortion, that little boy is a wizard. Even if Magic currently does not exist in your lineage, and you do not want to collaborate with me, sooner or later we will find out what blocked the magic and free it. — I paused while organizing my own feelings towards the first child witch I have seen in recent years. — This is where you will need a plan for him as his magic manifests. There is so much more to face that you cannot ignore simply because of how you feel about the decline of the family you were unfortunately born with and what they did to the woman you loved. This is the price you will need to pay for having had a child, you will have to start making decisions for him that have to do with magic.

— I'm perfectly aware of my duties as a father, Granger. — Draco's voice was dangerously soft as a chain of pure steel. — The guilt for the death of Scorpius's mother constantly reminds me of them.

And because I was listening so closely, I saw it. Under the cold ice of his irritation was a deep exhaustion. That's what made me stop and reconsider my next words and even my tone. I drank my green tea to wet my throat suddenly dry. It didn't help much.

— I… — I cleared my throat again. — I did not know until very recently that you had been burned from the family tapestry. This detail went unnoticed by me. But eventually I would look for you.

I noticed the little spark of interest in his gray eyes.

— Because Viktor told you something.

— Viktor told me that you had a Muggle girlfriend and that she was killed by you aunt. He didn't know enough details to tell me anything other than that. Which means I didn't know about your son until today.

In response, Draco looked away towards the room again.

— I'd rather no one knew about him.

— But if you brought him here, it's certainly because you believe I'm reliable enough... — I suggested, trying to make him finally talk about the real reason for the visit.

The silence that remained was not calm or relaxing. However, I felt some relief with the new direction of this conversation.

— You think you're charming, Granger. — From his tone, he didn't think so. Which was good actually, I wouldn't know how to deal with a Draco ex-Malfoy, praising me. — And your history with me will not affect your judgment?

— I know how to be impartial, Draco. And I understand about the threat against people who cannot defend themselves. My family faced this in that war. Do you have any memories about it? Yeah? — When he did not answer, I took a deep breath in an attempt to mask my irritation. — I will not tell anyone about him, if this is what you are worried about. — His face continued to give me nothing, so I tried one more approach. — Do you want to consult my notes on magical tapestries? I can provide a copy of…

— That won't be necessary. I was able to do my own research. — He cut me.

I wasn't sure how I felt about it. There weren't many things about Draco that were aligning with what I knew about him. It seemed that he did not trust me enough, but it was as if his lack of trust in me was what mattered least to him at the moment, since he showed up at my house and with his son in tow. Which made no sense. I was confused enough not to approach this topic so vigorously, I needed Draco to explain what the hell made him come here.

— Why did you bring Scorpius, Draco? To make both of you a project to be used by me?

Draco seemed unaffected by my use of his own words.

— Would we just be your project? Nothing to do with the Ministry? — He probed.

— My research is... mine. At least the part about the tapestries. — I confirmed. — Viktor is the only person who knows that I am following these clues, since it was he who found the original Wizard Directory.

— How do I know if I can trust you, Granger? — He asked.

— I saved you in the Room of Requirements.

— It was Potter. He saved me. — He hit back.

— Obviously you do not know Harry's feelings towards you at that time. — I commented dryly.

— And don't assume you know how I felt back then, Granger.

— I never assumed anything. I was just making a remark.

— Your remark sounds a lot like another of your judgments. — He scoffed.

— An observation, Draco, is a neutral act of carrying information. Judgment involves the formulation of an opinion on what is being observed. If you are going to use both words, know what they mean first.

The harsh look he gave me had no effect on me. It just made me straighten my spine more and continue to face him bravely.

— Bullshit, Granger.

— No, it's not. — I challenged.

— You do not know how to separate observation from assumption and judgment. Observe something and immediately formulate an interpretation, and from this interpretation you make a decision.

— That's not true. — I countered coldly.

— I have an immediate case for you: the tuning of the children's channel for my son. — Draco held my gaze in defiance. — You watched me handling the remote control of the tv and assumed that because I am a "pure blood", I would not know anything about the Muggle world, much less allow my son to consume content from it. Which validates my previous statement.

I tried to make a counterpoint, but I hesitated because, well, he was right. The look on Draco's face turned when he recognized his victory, almost reminded the pompous Draco Malfoy of the school era. But I didn't find myself beaten.

— All right, then help me understand. Why did you seek my help?

Draco looked at me, but I could not identify what emotion was imprinted now on his face. I had no real baseline I could use to decipher it. Except Hogwarts, but our common past was as twisted as any reference point, because he was no longer that child.

— Is your house protected from sounds? — He asked.

— Yes. — I confirmed.

— Close the curtains. — He ordered, and I put aside the strange feeling of having him give me orders in my own house when I waved my wand, making all the curtains close and the lights turn on automatically. — I also need you to hand over your wand.

— Where's yours? — I would not let go of my wand, Draco bringing his son as a shield or not.

— I haven't owned a wand since the Battle of Hogwarts. I gave up my magic, Granger.

There was a heavy silence. That proud boy, who bore for years the name of one of the most traditional pure blood families in the wizarding world as if he were the owner of the sun himself, renounced to his magic. It was unbelievable. I wondered if he somehow felt that anyone would believe this statement coming from him. But at the same time, I remembered that this man was a boy who never received affection from his family, a family that murdered the mother of his son and disinherited him. I could at least hear him, even if I still didn't believe what he just told me. And maybe, a huge maybe, I'd hand my wand to him.

— Tell me the story. All of it. — I said.

Draco understood my offer: he would tell the story while I decided whether or not to hand over my wand. For a moment there was only silence, interrupted by the sounds of the animation that Scorpius watched in the room. Then Draco exhaled deep and began to speak.

— Her name was Diana. I met her on Halloween when I was in fifth grade. Umbridge urged me to visit the nearby muggle village of Hogsmeade to buy a specific type of food for one of her cats. She was a store attendant and although I was a bigoted jerk, I had never felt for anyone what I felt for that girl. I volunteered to buy Umbridge's cat food monthly. And for all the months I went there, it was like I had a different life. I was not a Malfoy, I was not a wizard, I was just a fifteen-year-old boy who called a girl to go out. I had to research about how muggles had fun so I could behave like one and so I knew where to take it. We went out once a month for all the months I was in fifth grade. We were happy. Until everything went wrong in the Department of Mysteries, my father was arrested and Voldemort moved to the manor.

Draco paused, and when he resumed speaking, his voice was rougher than before.

— I received that mission in the summer of sixth grade. When I returned to school, I was no longer the same boy Diana dated. Even without knowing what was happening to me, she welcomed me and helped me deal with my fears. My first failed attempt to kill the headmaster almost killed a student. I ran to Diana and cried for hours, blaming myself for being weak and mean and unworthy of her trust. She calmed me down, wiped away my tears, kissed me and gave herself to me that day. Scorpius was conceived in our first time.

As I knew the end of the story, I felt my heart break a little with his account.

— Knowing about him was what kept me on my feet during the sixth grade. — Continued Draco. — I was ready to go on the mission to capture Potter at his uncles' house, when I received a message on the fireplace of the manor. It was from the squib that I bribed to keep an eye on my girl, warning me that she went into labor. I abandoned the preparations for the mission and stayed with her for all fourteen hours of pain. When my son was born, Granger, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever set eyes on. Scorpius lit up my heart, and I had no room for the darkness that my family had engulfed me all my life.

"He was six months old when Bellatrix Lestrange found out about his mother. She didn't torture me with the Cruciatus because Lucius begged her not to, claiming that I could become infertile and extinguish the Malfoy legacy. So, she found it funny to torture me like a scum that I had joined. She ordered her henchmen to chain me and left them free to beat me when they felt like it, trying to make me tell them where my girlfriend was. But I didn't give in. — Continued Draco, his voice choked. — And they were too weak to overcome the occlumency barrier that I held. Voldemort would have knocked her down with half a thought, but Narcissa somehow convinced her sister not to bother The Dark Lord with a teenage sexual adventure. And maybe it was luck, but she really didn't."

Draco stopped, swallowing dry.

— But then, the squib who was watching Diana, got in touch when Scorpius fell ill. I was still chained in the muddy basement, so she was the one who got the message. I was lucky he didn't mention the baby. And luckier still than when Bellatrix captured Diana, our son was admitted to muggle hospital and his maternal grandmother stayed with him, after much insistence that my wife needed a break.

My eyes teared and I wiped one of the tears that slid down my cheek.

— I was forced to watch as she slowly tortured Diana over several days. She tore off her fingers one by one as she screamed and begged. I heard her bones crackling as she cut them in cold blood. And when she used heated iron to mark her as an animal, I apologized to Diana for crossing her path. I begged my aunt to do all that to me. But she spurned my pleas and shouted that I was lucky that I was an only child and that Narcissa could not bear any more heir, or else she would have the pleasure of eliminating a blood traitor who rotted the Black and Malfoy bloodlines.

"Diana suffered for a whole week, until she whispered to me that she was very tired and could not take it anymore. Her last words to me were "I trust you, please protect him". I was only two meters away from her, but I could not hold her in my arms when she took her last breath. I couldn't bury her. Her body was taken to rot somewhere I was never told."

My hands were trembling as I listened to him. I thought the worst thing that had happened to Malfoy was being tasked with killing the headmaster. I never thought he had gone through anything so cruel. I regretted asking him to tell me his story. I wanted him to stop. But it seemed like a tap had opened in his mouth and he gushed more and more words to me.

— After that, Lucius rescued me, told Bellatrix that I had already learned my lesson and that now they could begin to re-educate me. I was so hurt and drained that the healers informed me that if I tried to use magic before I healed completely, it would affect my magical core forever. So, I was forced to stay in the manor and recover, with no news about my son. The only thing I could do was stay in that place, planning to kill my aunt. A few days later, I saw a second woman being tortured in front of me. You, Granger.

I let out a sob, my tears already smeared all over my face, but Draco only looked at his own hands, as if the story he told was a book he could read between them.

— I would never forgive the suffering that she put my wife through and not even for leaving me away from my son, pretending that he did not exist, so that I would keep him safe. As I watched her torture you, a movie flashed through my head. That night, I begged to Merlin that Bellatrix Lestrange would not get away with what she did to Diana, and at the same time, I swore to myself that Scorpius would not be a new Potter. His mother died, but I'd be there for him. I held on for the next few months until the final battle and did everything I was ordered to do, because I only needed two things: to kill Bellatrix and to survive to raise my son. So, I could tell him that his mother was the best person I ever met.

I could not restrain myself and got up from my seat, sitting on the chair next to Draco and reached for his hand with mine, squeezing it and trying to reach him in his pain.

— I'm sorry, Draco. — I murmured.

He just looked at my hand over his and continued his account, looking anesthetized by what he felt.

— I wanted to kill her with my own hands, but watching Molly Weasley cast the deadly spell that was supposed to be mine, at the woman I hated, was also gratifying. To see a woman whom she considered weak and blood traitor destroy her was ironically pleasurable. I abandoned the battle with Lucius and Narcissa and told them that I would leave and wanted nothing more with magic. They did not accept my decision, they used their family legacy speech and my obligations as the sole heir. I spat on the family tapestry when he said that the blood of that muggle was not worth my renunciation. And I didn't forget to thank him when he was destabilized enough to burn my name from that wretched piece of cloth. Thanks to Merlin, he burned my name minutes before the magic evaporated from our bodies, so there was no way I was tied to magic in any way. I was truly free.

Draco's eyes shone and he blinked to ward off the tears.

— It has been more than four years since I have lived in the Muggle world and I dedicate myself entirely to my son. — He said, softly. — I hate magic, Granger. All I lost was because of magic.

I could only imagine how desperate it was for Draco to go through all this alone.

— If you hate it, why do you need my wand? — I asked.

Draco pulled out the hand that was under mine and got up. I followed him with the look, as he went to the entrance to the room and whispered to Scorpius to come to us.

Bringing the boy up to me, he laid his hands on his son's shoulders.

— Give it to him. — Draco whispered to me.

I couldn't breathe right in anticipation of what I thought Draco was wanting to show me and my hands were trembling again as I stretched out the piece of vine wood, handing it over to Scorpius. His little fingers wrapped my wand and I let go of it, it was clear that he had never seen one, for his first reaction was just to hold it and look at his father, silently asking what he should do with it. Draco turned him to himself.

— Do you remember grandpa's fireworks? — The little boy nodded positively. — I want you to imagine them inside your head and point the wand high. Can you do that, son?

Scorpius nodded again, and Draco turned him facing me. I was stunned when I saw the boy move the wood and look up. An excitedly childish laugh came out of his throat as colorful sparks broke out from the tip of the wand. An avalanche of hope fell upon me when I saw what Scorpius did. My eyes teared as I lifted my gaze to that of Draco, who watched me intently.

— Draco, he is... — my voice was hoarse with emotion.

— The only magical child that currently exists. — He completed it.

I looked in awe at Scorpius and knelt on the ground in front of him. When I pulled him up against me, he accepted my embrace as if he hadn't just rejected me when we met. This time he hugged me back, probably because I handed him my wand, even though he thought it was fireworks.

— Do you have more? — Scorpius asked me when I released him, returning the wand to me. I smiled thrilled at his innocence in returning the used "material" to me.

— Miss Granger only had that one, son. — Draco Said. — You can go back and watch the TV in the sitting room. Dad needs to finish the tea before we leave.

Scorpius looked smiling at me and then at his father.

— Okay, Dad. — The little boy answered and obediently went to the next room.

Draco reached out to help me get up from where I was still kneeling on the kitchen floor. As soon as we took our seats at the table, he resumed his narrative.

— He was three years old when he began to dream of magic. At first, he told me about unicorns and bright fairies flying over his head. I was scared, but his maternal grandmother told me that every child had this imagination. Then, on one night last winter, we were both lying on the living room floor, very involved in reading a new story. I didn't realize the fireplace was almost out. Scorpius raised his little hands and stretched his icy fingers in front of the almost extinguished fire, throwing an involuntary Incendio on the coals. As he smiled at the rekindled flames, I could only think that the sound of the crackling of the fire was the same as that of my heart being crushed in dread.

I could imagine his fear watching that.

— Draco, how is that possible? — I murmured.

I could not put the pieces together to understand why no child had been born with magic until today, since the final battle and Scorpius, who had been born before the end of the war, that is, he was already a wizard when magic was extinguished, retained his powers.

— I don't know. I have no idea how the magic disappeared. Even involved with Voldemort's plans, he never reported to us about it. At least, not to any Malfoy. Or Severus.

— Severus? — I stared at Draco in confusion. — Do you have contact with him?

— Severus is my godfather, Granger. Who do you think gave me your address?

— I thought... Viktor, maybe. Severus does not know about the tapestries. At least not on my part.

— Severus knows. I don't know what your dynamics are of not trusting each other, even though you're working together, and I don't care at the moment. — Draco shook his head, indifferent. — Viktor passed on to him the information from the trail of the tapestries, and Severus told me about them. He was curious about Scorpius. Almost as if he already knew he had magic.

— But... how could Severus know? — I interrupted him.

— You'll forgive me for not helping you with this, Granger. Again: I don't know what your distorted dynamics are, and please spare me your drama with Severus. — He's sighed. — I already have a lot on my hands. I was a wizard and couldn't protect my wife, what chance do I have, being a Muggle? How can I protect my child?

— I can protect you, Draco. — I said with assurance.

And it was true. I was the most powerful witch today, and Scorpius was a hope I had long thought lost. I'd do anything for him.

— Are you sure, Granger? — He asked me.

— Yes, I am sure that I will protect a child who can be the hope of the Wizarding World. I've done that before. — I responded with indignation.

Draco cracked his jaw with my answer, which indirectly reminded him that I was always on the right side, Harry Potter was also a child when I met him. He reached for the briefcase he was carrying when he arrived and saw him stick his hand into it, taking something from there that made me shudder. It was a sphere. And inside it, there was a record of prophecy.

— How did you get it? — My voice came out whispered, my eyes did not detach for an instant from the sphere in front of me.

Take it — He ordered. — I will not explain to you how a prophecy concerning my son came to me. I want you to break it and we'll listen together to what it says.

— The only people who are allowed to withdraw a prophecy from the Department of mysteries are those of whom it speaks, Draco.

— Granger, you're not explaining to me why Lucius was arrested years ago, are you? He was my father at the time and you were there. I appreciate it if we go through this and get straight to the point. — Although the look on Draco's face was not hostile, the harsh expression on his face was. — Break it.

A shiver ran down my spine as I closed my fingers on the prophecy. And before I could dwell on the situation, Draco slapped my hand and the prophecy shattered on my kitchen floor. A pearly white figure, flowing like a ghost, rose in a spiral from the shards of glass on the ground and began to speak.

When the lion fall

The snake crawl

And a constellation presents itself

The pause will come to an end.

The blood drained Draco's face, leaving him even paler than usual. I was paralyzed because I had heard that before. Actually, I had read that. Written in runes, under my bed.

— Draco... I've... I've read about it. — I whispered to him, staring at his wide eyes in a shocked expression, which I was sure, mirrored my own. — What does it mean?

Draco's voice was weak, as if he was too suffocated by the shock of what he heard to express himself more clearly.

— It means, Granger, that you are the lion. — He whispered.

And his previous words finally made sense to me. The prophecy concerned his son. Scorpius was the constellation.


Final Notes


Only those who know me well, know the torment that will be for me, narrating scenes of Draco and Hermione, without them being a couple... May Jesus (and munjaaay) help me on this journey! hahahahaha

The description of the sphere of the prophecy record was blatantly copied from my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.