"Mummm," Scorpius pouted as Hermione knelt before him, fussing over the collar of his dress robes and fixing the buttons his little fingers couldn't manage. "Please, please, please don't make me."
Hermione sighed, hiding a charmed smile and plastering on her best I'm-not-falling-for-it mom face. Because she couldn't find it in herself to be annoyed with his whinging, not really. It was a special kind of sound that it seemed only a Malfoy could conjure up. Sweet and grating at the same time, endearing more than it was irritating.
Unfortunately for Scorpius, his mum had years of practice ignoring the Malfoy siren song.
"Please don't make you what Scorp?" She moved her attention to the laces of his shoes to hide a laugh when her son scoffed –– scoffed –– at the question. "I can't read your mind, love."
"Daddy can..." He grumbled, wiggling his toes inside his shoes.
He looked at his mum expectantly and she looked at him right back, communicating in the silent way that only mother and son could.
"I don't wanna go to Grandma's tonight…" He spoke under his breath, as if anticipating the lecture that would follow. "It's cold there and I'm gonna miss opening presents with James and Albus and –– well can't we just go tomorrow?"
Hermione winced, praying that her son's soft spoken voice didn't reach Draco's ears just down the hall. It'd break his heart, she knew, and it was already such a difficult time of year for him. One filled with tradition and family, both of which he had so.
She sat back on her heels, lip between her teeth, and Scorpius watched her expectantly through thick blinking lashes.
It was times like this that made Hermione wonder how she'd ever become a mother in the first place. Times when she sat frozen with no idea what to say or do or think next.
Because what on earth was she meant to say to something like that? How could she explain to a six year old that his grandma got lonely in a place as large as the Manor? That they already visited less than they ought to. That Draco had so little left, that to abandon this tradition would leave him with nothing.
That this was his father's only wish every year at Christmas.
Please, Hermione. Can we take them? Just for Christmas Eve, I promise. Then we can go to Potter's for the rest of the night, I just –– I can't stand for her to be alone there. She's all I have.
"I know, love," She started carefully, "But your grandma changed a hundred of your dirty diapers, you know? You think she wanted to do that?"
Scorpius' nose scrunched up in a move that was undeniably Hermione, then his brow furrowed in a move that was undeniably Draco.
"No…" He conceded on the tail end of a sigh.
"But she did it anyway. You know why?" Hermione tapped his chin, and his grey eyes shot up to meet hers. "Because that's what you do for people you love. You love grandma, don't you?"
He nodded quickly, and his earnesty bled through in wide eyes.
"And you love your momma too?" Hermione teased, digging her fingers into his sides and scooping him up into her arms.
"Yes –– yes, okay? No tickling…" Scorpius wiggled and laughed and wrapped his arms around her neck, burying his head into her hair.
And a warmth covered her from head to toe when she rounded the corner to find Draco and Lyra in the same position, little hands fisitng the front of his dress robes as he bounced her on his hip. A red bow in her hair, a red tie around Draco's neck.
"Hey you two." Draco wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist as they drew closer, planting one kiss on her lips and one on the top of Scorpius' head. "You ready to go?"
Hermione looked to Scorpius, who nodded right away. And when she set him on the ground he reached for his sister to join him, grabbing her mitten covered hand in his own and pulling her towards the Floo.
"C'mon Lyr, let's go see Grandma."
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When they landed in the sitting room of the Manor, the air carried a particular chill. Stale and stagnant, much as the rest of the unused wing of the house was.
Hermione squeezed Draco's arm. He squeezed her back and, feeling reassured, they carried on towards the back of the house, catching little glimpses of the falling snow outside through crystal window panes.
The children ran ahead, saying their hellos to portraits along the way, too young and kind and innocent to care much when the occasional Malfoy sneered or spat in their direction.
"Dirty, dirty blood." Draco's Aunt Elizabeth muttered.
"Embarrassment… A waste of perfectly good…" Draco's Great Uncle Brutus huffed.
"A shame. A damn shame." Draco's Grandfather Abraxas swore.
And when the two smallest Malfoys finally made to their grandfather's portrait, Hermione could feel Draco's breath catch. Lucius never had the chance to meet the children before he died, but his portrait had many times.
His attitude toward them varied from disgust to conservative pride, depending on the day. And, much like her husband, Hermione held her breath in anticipation of which it would be today.
"Scorpius," The elder Malfoy greeted cooly, "Happy Holidays."
Draco and Hermione let out a relieved breath all at once.
"Hello Grandpa." The younger boy greeted in turn, "Happy Holidays to you too."
Scorpius turned to his sister, much more reserved than he had ever been, and encouraged her to speak with raised brows and a hand on her back.
"Hi Grandpa." She spoke quietly, eyes downcast.
"Lyra," Lucius acknowledged, "Stand up tall, so I can see you."
She immediately squared her shoulders and held her head tall and Hermione's heart swelled with pride. She wished she had been brave enough to stand so confidently before the Malfoy patriarch while he was still alive.
"So much of your grandmother in you, you know? Her eyes… Proud little thing." Lucius muttered, nearly unintelligible, and Draco cut in.
"Merry Christmas, father."
Lucius' eyes cut back and forth between the two of them, Draco's side pressed into Hermione's, her arm wrapped through his. "Draco, Miss Granger."
"Hello Lucius," Hermione greeted, with all of the holiday pleasantry she could muster, digging her nails into Draco's coat sleeve when she felt him tense up at the use of her maiden name.
"We should be off, then." Draco reached down to scoop up Lyra and Scorpius, ever the green little monster, reached his arms up to be carried by his mum.
They were a perfect picture of the family Lucius never had, and Hermione could feel the stark contrast like fire against freezing hands. She smiled at him, and he managed a sad smile back before he returned to the chair in the corner of his portrait, a copy of The Sacred Twenty-Eight in hand.
Draco led the four of them out of a door just down the hall and onto the lawn behind the estate, careful to let Hermione down the icy steps first before he followed on his own.
And though Hermione had always believed Malfoy Manor beautiful, she was partial to walking the grounds during Winter. Something about the way that the snow piled up on the slanted rooftops and on the sills of stained glass windows. On the top of carefully shaped shrubs and marble benches.
Scorpius wriggled impatiently in her arms at the sight of the snow and she set him carefully back on his feet, giggling to herself as his first step landed him knee-deep in powdery snow.
Lyra squirmed to join her brother, but Draco carried her a few paces further. "Careful, bug." He kissed her cheek before setting her free on snow that was worn and well trodden.
And the four of them met Narcissa where they always did, a dozen paces past the marble gazebo in the back of the Manor, under an ancient oak that'd shed its leaves long ago.
The children ran to meet her first, bundled up in coats and scarves and woolen socks with warming charms on top of it all.
"Merry Christmas Grandma," Scorpius greeted her with a sweet smile.
"Merry Christmas Grandma," Lyra echoed, stumbling over the vowels and consonants and turning three words into one.
Hermione had always loved the way Narcissa lit up when the children came around, leaving lipstick-stained kisses on their temples and their cheeks, slipping them peppermints from her pockets with a conspiratorial wink. "Just for you, lovey."
The air was colder here than it had been inside, but her presence made it warm somehow. Love and memories and happiness present that were never around within the concrete walls of the Manor.
"I lost a tooth, Grandma. See?" Scorpius opened his mouth to show off the hole beside his front teeth. Turning his little head side to side and getting distracted by the snowflakes landing on his tongue.
"Daddy painted my fingernails, Grandma. See?" Lyra held out both arms straight in front of her and wiggled the tiny sparkled tips of them, not to be outdone by her brother.
And the two of them went back and forth for a long while until they'd shared just about all of the news they could muster. Scorpius looked to Hermione in a silent plea for permission and, really, she was surprised it'd taken this long.
"You can go…" She started, watching the smile grow wider and wider across his face. "But you have to take your sister with you."
Scorpius frowned, carefully considering his options before wrapping a hand around Lyra's tugging her behind him. "C'mon Lyr, let's go find some fairies."
"Be careful," Draco shouted after them, shaking his head with a fond sort of smile as Lyra dumped a pile of snow on her brother's head, as he dumped an even larger pile on her in return.
"They grow up so fast." Hermione heard the soft echo of Narcissa's voice, wistful and longing.
"I know…" She whispered in return, letting her head fall back against the solid warmth of Draco's chest as he wrapped himself around her, the edges of his coat pulled across her folded arms.
"You hold onto these memories, they'll be the most important possessions you ever have." Narcissa turned nostalgic in the years following the war and often reminded Hermione of this, that her life would have been meaningless without her son.
"We're going to have another, Mum." She felt the rumble of Draco's voice against her back, felt his arms tighten around her waist. "It's going to be a girl, I know it, and ––"
He fell silent for a moment and Hermione turned back to find his eyes red and watery. She kissed the corner of his mouth and blinked back the tears that pricked at her own eyes, carrying on for him.
"–– and we're going to name her Cassiopeia. I know it was one of your favorites before we had Lyra and, well, we figured it was perfect now. She's going to be a June baby, just like Draco."
"Only she'll be sweeter than me," Draco's words were uneven but spoken through a smile. "It's been all chocolate cravings this time, Mum. And I've been reading her all your favorite stories. Fountain of Fair Fortune… Siren Song… Spring of the Wildflower Sprite…"
"I keep trying to explain to him she can't hear just yet," Hermione gave him a teasing glare, "But I'm not sure her father can hear very well either."
Draco looked at her fondly, hands drifting around from her waist to the center of her slow growing belly. A smirk crawled its way across his lips and she leaned up on her toes to wipe it away. A chaste kiss, another, and then he held her there and breathed her in and pressed his hands possessively into her sides.
He settled her back on her feet, eyes clearer and dryer than before, and walked past her to give his mother the cluster of wildflowers he and Lyra picked from their garden at home.
"Merry Christmas, Mum." Draco whispered a stasis charm over the flowers.
"Merry Christmas, Narcissa." Hermione echoed.
And before long, the children came barreling back to them with pink noses and bright eyes and stories of startled peacocks at the far end of the grounds.
The air was filled with flurries and childish rambling and the echoing sound of Lyra's laughter, squealing with delight as Draco hoisted her up onto his shoulders.
"Faster, daddy." She dug her little fingers into his carefully styled hair, pulling on one side and then the other like he was a show horse. And he might as well have been, for the way he obeyed her flippant commands.
"This way!" And he turned.
"That way!" And he turned again.
"Spins!" And he pulled her back into his chest, turning them around until Hermione swore they'd be sick.
"Higher!" And he tossed her up in the air, catching her and smothering her with kisses every time.
Hermione smiled to herself and knew that, somewhere, Narcissa was smiling too.
"Alright you two," She called after Draco and Lyra, "Let's head over to Uncle Harry and Aunt Gin's."
Lyra squealed and kicked with excitement, knowing even at three years of age that a full pile of pastries and presents would be waiting there for her, courtesy of Molly and Arthur and Theo and Pansy.
Hermione looked to her side expecting to find Scorpius there, just as thrilled about the promise of holiday tradition, but instead found him a few paces behind, his forest green hat a beacon in the snow. She opened her mouth to hurry him along, but paused the moment she saw what exactly he'd stayed behind to do.
Her breath was stolen on a particularly cold gust of wind, tears blurring her vision once more.
Because there he was, her precious boy, pulling a peppermint out from his pocket and placing it on the frozen ground just beside the flowers. He stood up tall, eyes even with the arch of weathered stone before him.
In Loving Memory
Narcissa Eridanus Malfoy
Wife, Mother, Friend
And in a move that was undeniably Narcissa, Scorpius dusted the snow off of his coat and paused for a breath before winking at the stony inscription. "Just for you, lovey."