IV. Bedtime Stories

Hermione couldn't get enough of staring at the blonde toddler sleeping beside her. She certainly looks a lot like Malfoy: blond hair, well- chiseled cheekbones, pointed face. He's beautiful. Hermione jolt herself awake from her thoughts. Wait, I mean, she's beautiful, not Malfoy! Ugh, I don't find that scum attractive!

"Mum, you're doing it again," Chelsea said as she tuck herself in the bed beside her.

"What?" Hermione asked absent-mindedly.

"Grumbling. Talking to yourself. Hissing Dad's name,"

Hermione can't seem to find an answer to Chelsea so she busied herself with the comforters and the beddings.

"Is Mal-… I mean Draco okay to sleep with Elliott?" Hermione asked, trying to evade their exchange earlier.

Chelsea made herself comfortable beside Hermione, lying on her side while she rest her pretty head on her hands. "They'll be okay. Elliott adored Dad, wanting to be like him. And they do that a number of times, you know."

Hermione wanted to ask what she meant but later decided against it. It would be stupid to ask. Instead, she roamed her eyes within the entirety of the bed they're in.

"This is an awfully big bed. Why would anyone want a bed as huge as this?" she asked Chelsea, in hope to change the subject. Surprisingly, the blond teen exploded into fits of giggles

"Dad always tells us that you guys do that muggle thing – yoga - in this bed so it ought to be big. I got the message clearly." Chelsea coughed in between giggles. "I guess that explains why I have four wonderful siblings."

Eeeeewww! Not a pretty visual there! Hermione tried to regain her composure. "I must look really dumpy now, having given birth to five kids already."

Chelsea turned in the bed so that she's lying on her stomach, her head on her hands, gazing at her. "Not really. You saw how you look in the picture. You've always been beautiful, Mum." Her smile faded slowly. "I've always wanted to be as striking as you are but somehow, I can't manage it."

Me? Beautiful? "But you are pretty! You and Zoë definitely took after your father." Hermione tried to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach as she said 'father'. She took Chelsea's hair in her hands and twirled it between her fingers. "I wouldn't wonder if there would be boys cueing up to ask you out."

The young blonde let out a soft laugh. "Don't let Daddy hear that. He goes ballistic every time I drop a hint that some guy has asked me out. He can be fiercely protective, you know. He always reminds me how difficult it has been for Ginny when she had Marcus. He doesn't want that to happen to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes incredulously. "Or…he knows how perverted guys can be, seeing he was one." Then she stopped. "Wait, what do you mean about Ginny having Marcus?"

"Oh. Harry got her pregnant before you finished your seventh year. Ron was so furious he almost strangled him to death. Ginny has to forego a year and resumed her studies only after she had Marcus."

Hermione found herself speechless. At her silence, Chelsea continued. "But everything went well after that. Harry and Ron proceeded to being Aurors, you and Neville trained to become Healers and Daddy took over the family business."

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Elliott has been silent ever since Draco stepped in his room. He and his father has been having slumber parties in his room since time immemorial, yet somehow he felt uncomfortable for this particular night. It's him but somehow he's not my Dad. He contented himself watching the blond young man surreptitiously as the latter washed up for bed. He peered at the older Malfoy surveying himself on the mirror, studying the way he stands, the way he tosses his blond hair, the way he blinks his eyes, every movement, and every beat. Elliott sighed as he returned his gaze to his broomstick he was stashing away. Dad's really the epitome of COOL. Then, remembering Draco's display of inanities earlier, he chuckled, except when Mum's around.

It's pathetic how this blasted boy ogles at my every moment. Draco reflected, tearing his furtive glances from Elliott. He looked around the room he's in, taking in the somehow familiar sights and ambience as it used to be his. Not much has changed in the room as it maintained the same theme: Silver, Emerald and Quidditch. He smirked. A true Malfoy. A Slytherin Quidditch player. He returned his eyes to the young boy tending a broomstick amorously, as if it was his most prized possession. He couldn't stand the pregnant silence between them.

I might as well make friends lest I want to bore myself while I'm in this time frame. Draco sighed as he started toward the bed.

"Er… nice broom you have there" he motioned to Elliott's broomstick.

Elliott mumbled an almost inaudible "thanks." It should be. You gave it to me.

Quite the talker, huh? Draco tried again. "So, you play for Slytherin. What do you play?"

"Seeker"

"Really? And you're what…second year?

Nod.

"Youngest seeker in Hogwarts, eh?"

Elliott couldn't help but beam at the truth. "Well...next to Harry Potter and you."

"Oh. Yeah." Silence. Ugh, I hate this uncomftable silence! Draco thought malignantly. He looked around the room, trying to search for an object of conversation. Beside the bed is a dresser that houses some pictures of the family. A tender- hearted Malfoy, he thought derisively. His old room was never a sanctuary for sentiments.

He picked up the nearest frame and was momentarily disconcerted by its contents. Elliott, probably a year younger, was beaming back at him from the picture, holding a large swordfish at one hand and a fishing rod in another. Beside him, Draco saw his older self ruffling Elliott's hair and grinning at the camera with what looked like fatherly pride in his smiling eyes. He felt his chest tighten.

"Father, can you take me fishing?"

"Nonsense, Draco. Fishing is for filthy muggles and mudbloods only."

"That was taken last summer, when we went for a muggle trip with Grandpa and Grandma Granger. You taught us how to fish." Draco was startled to see Elliott sitting beside him. "Chelsea couldn't get the hang of it and the twins were so excited to concentrate. Only I got to catch a fish." Elliott's eyes reflected pure childhood bliss at the nostalgia which Draco found envious. He didn't stop the young boy as he went on. "We stayed in this really cramp cabin. But, you and Mum expanded it magically that it accommodated four adults, four kids and a baby." Elliott took another frame and showed it to Draco. It was a picture of the whole family outside a cabin. "I remember Chelsea broke an arm when Philippe and I dared her to climb a tree." Elliott was laughing mischievously. "Mum was furious. While you," he faced Draco shyly. "...well...you have always been the cool-and-calm parent. You just told me and Philippe that bullying our sister will not make us manly."

"I said that?" Draco hitched a sad smile on his face as he continually stared at the picture. "Some father I am, huh?"

"Grow up, Draco. A Malfoy is never a sissy!"

"Yeah. You're my favorite adult, you know. Errr…next to Mum at least."

Second to Granger. How flattering.

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This feels like a sleepover in a girlfriend's house, Hermione thought with a smile. She and Chelsea had been talking for hours about life in the Malfoy household.

"…and Elliott, temperamental as he is, very Malfoy of him as you would always point out, dislikes being cuddled and cooed about his good looks. Only Grandma Granger can pinch his cheeks and get away with it. Elliott's first magic was summoning the dentures of an old woman who dared fuzz about his nose when he was two, just to let you know." Hermione laughed at this discovery, which Chelsea seemed to enjoy watching. She seldom does that now.

"Philippe and Prudence, they're the pranksters here. I remember when you and Dad took me to Platform 9 ¾ for the first time. They managed to slip a toad down the robes of a second year. Oh, her screams and cussing!" Chelsea cackled at the memory. "Eventually she became my best friend, Rhyss Weasley."

At the mention of Ron and Luna's "supposed" daughter, Hermione's heart made a flipflop. Having to deal with her imminent marital bliss with Draco Malfoy and having his six kids is one thing; conceding to her boyfriend's possible departure to Luna's arms is another. How can Ron do that to me?

Well, Rhyss did say it was you who broke up with him

Why would I do that? Hermione debated inwardly. I am so into him!

Yeah, until Draco Malfoy happened.

What!

Give it up, Hermione! You've been attracted to the Slytherin Prince for sometime now.

Oh yeah. Right. Like ages ago.

And it resurrected…or rather intensified…after his significant role in Voldemort's demise.

What! Where did that come from!

'tut' ' tut' Defensive and evasive. Interesting.

"Mum?"

"Huh?" Hermione was surprised to see Chelsea's confused expression directed at her.

"I lost you again," the young blonde said accusingly. She studied Hermione's various emotions cross on her face. Confusion. Disgust. Denial. "You're really that involved with Ron Weasley?"

Hermione picked on the comforter snugged warmly around her. She heaved a deep sigh before she answered.

"I don't know, Chelsea. I've always believed it would all come down to me and Ron in the end. When he told me he loved me," Pause. Smile. "...it was the happiest day of my life." Sigh. "I've plotted out my future with Ron and Mal-… Draco is not part of it."

"Does this mean that you don't believe us? This reality and time frame you're in?"

"Frankly, I don't."

"Or can't."

"Chelsea…," Hermione started.

"Mum, this is the truth, your future. You may hate Daddy in Seventh Year, but it's bound to change. You-," she stopped short. "...the older you told me that you've had had feelings for him amidst hating him, seeing him beyond his vileness."

"But I was young then!" Hermione was now defensive. "It's perfectly normal to have a crush on a cute guy. Malfoy was..," Hermione was grateful it was dark in the room lest she wish Chelsea to see her cheeks tainted pink. "…not bad looking…" her voice trailed off.

"Aaaannd.." Chelsea egged on, expectant.

"Ron's not bad looking, too."

"Mum, you are so not setting a good example! Attracted to two gorgeous hunks!" Chelsea squealed with a chuckle.

Hermione's giggle was a beat late. "Let me correct you: Ron is more like gorgeous-boy-next-door. He's not the 'hunk' type."

"And Daddy?"

"Well.." Yes. Ugh.

Chelsea let out shrill laugh. "You're in big trouble." She quickly hid under the blankets, still shaking with laughter.

"Am I?" I am. Oh no.

Hermione barely slept a wink that night.

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Elliott has been asleep for hours. Draco was still feigning drowsiness and fatigue. He threw the young boy's sleeping form a sad look. He found Elliott's face show peace and contentment…something he, Draco, had never experienced.

He tossed about the bed, turning his back to Elliott. In his seventeen years, he was raised in a life of prosperity and comfort. Sadly, this was coupled with coldness and people disgusted by the idea of 'love' and 'family'. He was groomed to what is expected of a Malfoy: cool, cunning, unrelenting; vicious and ambitious; reverence for pureblood; disgust for mudbloods and muggles. I'm Lucius' bloody clone.

His digress from the Dark Lord's clutches was not easy. Withstanding Lucius' reproachful nature, he's still his father. He still yearns for his approval and pride. At sixteen, Lucius wanted him to be a Death Eater. Draco just wanted to get through school. That was when the family fell into pieces.

His mother, Narcissa, sought Professor Snape's help. She loved her son more than her husband. Snape offered her the most unwelcome, yet the best, advice: take Draco to Albus Dumbledore and seek refuge in the Order.

For the love of her son, Narcissa relented. She and Draco were smuggled to Grimmauld Place in the middle of the school year. In return, Draco disclosed the Dark Lord and his army's plans, as he was entitled to such information as Lucius Malfoy's son. He begged Dumbledore to save his father. The Order arranged for Lucius' 'abduction'. This had triggered the war that ended in Harry Potter's favor.

Shortly after that, the Ministry sentenced the rounded- up Death Eaters to Azkaban but meted out pardon for Lucius Malfoy for Draco's sake. Consumed by shame and pride, he left his wife and son to flee to Russia.

This is not my future, Draco thought regretfully. I don't deserve this life, this family. I don't deserve Elliott's adulation, Chelsea's respect…nor Granger's commitment to a lifetime with me.

A solitary tear fell on his pale cheek as sleep finally consumed him.