"There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed."
Napoleon Bonaparte
VII
The first light of dawn filtered through the grand windows of Malfoy Manor, casting a golden hue over the mahogany desk where Draco Malfoy had fallen asleep. His head rested on a pile of scrolls, each one a testament to the endless responsibilities that now filled his days. As he stirred from his slumber, the accounting book beside him seemed to mock his exhaustion with its endless columns of numbers.
Draco's eyes snapped open, the familiar surroundings of his office at the manor coming into focus. Confusion clouded his mind as he tried to piece together how he had arrived here. The last memory he had was the heart-wrenching pain of Hermione's burial, the cold earth a stark reminder of all he had lost.
"If only I could turn back time," he whispered to the silent room, his voice tinged with regret.
But then, time had twisted upon itself, and he was back at Hogwarts, navigating the treacherous waters of his fourth year with a time turner clasped tightly in his hand. The memories were vivid—the Slytherin dormitory, the malicious glint in Nott's eyes, the searing agony of the Cruciatus curse.
Now, as he sat in his office, the disarray of scrolls and the open accounting book seemed like relics from another life. His reverie was broken by the creak of the door, and a small figure bounded into the room. The boy, no more than three, was the spitting image of Draco, save for the captivating amber eyes that sparkled with youthful innocence.
"Dada?" the boy called out, his voice filled with annoyance. "Why Ellie go play without me?"
Draco's heart raced, the kid's presence an enigma. "Ellie?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.
The boy nodded, his amber eyes searching the older wizard's face for answers. "She's wif Jamie, and I wanted to pway too!" he explained, his lower lip quivering.
Malfoy's mind reeled, the pieces of his fractured memories refusing to align. Was this boy his son? Who were Ellie and Jamie? The questions spun in his head, each one a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"Come here," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. The boy approached, climbing onto his lap with ease. "Why does Ellie get to do evewything?" the toddler grumbled, resting his head against Draco's chest with a trust that felt both foreign and familiar.
The wizard reassured him, his hand stroking the boy's white-blond hair. The kid looked up, his gaze fixed on Malfoy's face, as if trying to read his thoughts. "Can you tell me a story 'bout when you were at Hogwarts, pwease?"
Draco nodded, the request sparking a bittersweet memory. "Once, I had a time turner, just like in the storybooks."
"Did you go on big adventures?" the toddler asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
"I did, but not all adventures have happy endings," the older wizard replied, his thoughts drifting to Hermione once more.
The boy seemed to sense his father's sadness. "But you're here wif me now, Dada. Dat's a happy ending, wight?"
Draco hugged his son closer, the simplicity of the kid's perspective grounding him. "Yes, son. Being here with you is the happiest ending I could ask for."
As Malfoy held the child, the reality of his situation settled over him like a shroud. He was no longer a student at Hogwarts, no longer a young man caught in the throes of war. He was here, in his office, with a son he couldn't recall ever seeing before.
The longing for his mate surged within him, a tidal wave of grief that threatened to pull him under. Yet, as he looked into the kid's eyes—eyes that held a spark of Hermione's spirit—he knew he had to be strong. For the boy, for the family he didn't remember, and for the future that was still unwritten, he would find a way to move forward, one uncertain step at a time.
Draco was engrossed in a heartfelt talk with his son when the door to his expansive office swung open, emitting a gentle creak. Hermione entered, exuding a comforting warmth that permeated the room. The Veela was astounded, unable to believe what he was witnessing.
Scorpius, or Scorp as she lovingly called him, swiftly jumped off his father's lap and dashed towards her, embracing her legs with his tiny arms.
"Mommy!" the boy exclaimed, his voice a blend of joy and need.
The witch knelt down to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with maternal concern. "What's wrong, my little dragon?" she asked softly.p
Scorpius' lower lip quivered as he tried to speak through his tears. "Ellie... said I can't pway wif her and Jamie," he managed to say, his words heavy with sorrow.
Hermione brushed away his tears with a gentle touch. "Oh, Scorp, sharing is part of being a family. James is your friend, and Stella loves you very much," she reassured him.
"But she's mine!" Scorpius insisted, his young mind grappling with the complexities of sibling relationships.
Draco watched the exchange, his heart aching for his son's distress. "Scorp, remember what we talked about? Being kind and generous?" he reminded him.
The boy nodded, sniffing back his tears. "I remembew, Dada."
Hermione stood up, her hand reaching out to her husband. "Let's go find Ellie together," she suggested, her voice steady and sure.
Draco took her hand, and together with Scorpius, they left the office behind, their footsteps echoing down the corridor as they made their way to the gardens.
The Malfoy gardens were a sight to behold, with flowers in full bloom and the gentle hum of bees filling the air. As they approached, they saw their daughter, her golden hair catching the light, playing with James under the shade of a willow tree.
"Ellie," Draco called out, his voice carrying across the lawn.
Stella looked up, her face breaking into a smile at the sight of her family. "Dada! Mommy! Scorp!" she cried out, running towards them.
Scorpius hesitated, his earlier upset still lingering. "You no like me to pway," he accused, his voice small.
The young witch reached out, taking her brother's hand. "I'm sowwy, Scorp," she apologized, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.
James stood by, his expression one of understanding. "We can all pway togeder!" he offered, his voice hopeful.
Hermione smiled, her heart full at the sight of her children finding their way back to each other. "That's the spirit," she said, her pride evident.
Draco wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, watching as the three toddlers began a game of tag among the flowers. "This is what it's all about, isn't it?" he mused, his voice soft.
The witch leaned into him, her gaze on their children. "Yes, this is everything," she agreed, her words a whisper carried away by the breeze.
As Draco watched the twins Stella and Scorpius, play with their friend James, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The laughter of the toddlers, carefree and joyful, was a balm to his weary soul.
"Look at them, Mother," the wizard said, turning to Narcissa, who had just arrived with a picnic basket. "They're so full of life."
The older witch smiled, her eyes softening as she watched the kids. "They remind me of you at that age," she replied.
Draco's gaze lingered on James, the boy's untamed black hair and bright green eyes so reminiscent of Harry Potter. "He could only be Potter's son," Draco mused aloud.
"Indeed," Narcissa agreed, laying out the picnic blanket with practiced grace. "It seems our families are more intertwined than we ever imagined."
The kids, noticing the spread, rushed over, their game momentarily forgotten. "Aunt Cissy, do you have umm, do you have... chocowate fwogs?" James asked, his voice hopeful.
Narcissa chuckled, her hand delving into the basket. "I do, but you must eat your lunch first," she said, holding up a plate of sandwiches.
Stella pouted, her gaze fixed on the basket. "But I want sweeets nowwww!" she protested.
Hermione intervened, her tone gentle but firm. "Ellie, remember what we talked about? Patience is a virtue."
The little witch nodded, though her disappointment was clear. "Okay, Mommy," she acquiesced.
As they settled down to eat, a man with graying sandy-colored hair approached, his clothes worn but clean. Draco's heart skipped a beat. "Lupin?" he whispered, disbelief coloring his voice.
The man smiled, a familiar warmth in his eyes. "Hello, Draco," he greeted.
"But how?" the wizard stammered, memories of the war flooding back.
Lupin's smile turned wistful. "It's a long story, one I'll share in time," he promised.
Scorpius, curious, tugged at Lupin's sleeve. "Papa Moony, where's Unca Padfoot?" he asked.
Lupin's expression turned somber. "Sirius couldn't make it today, my dear," he explained.
The children ate their lunch, their earlier energy tempered by the presence of the adults. Draco watched them, his mind racing with questions about Lupin's unexpected appearance.
After lunch, Narcissa brought out the chocolate frogs, much to the delight of the children. "Here you are, but don't eat too many," she cautioned.
James grinned, unwrapping a frog with glee. "Thank you, Aunt Cissy!" he exclaimed.
Draco leaned back, the warmth of the sun on his face. "It's good to have you back, Lupin," he said, his voice sincere.
Lupin nodded, his gaze on the children. "It's good to be back," he agreed.
The golden rays of the setting sun bathed Malfoy Manor in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns where the laughter of children could be heard. Draco stood at a distance, watching his twins, Stella and Scorpius, play with James. The sight filled the his heart with a mix of joy and sorrow, the latter stemming from the years he had lost with his children.
"Dada, look at us!" Stella called out, her voice carrying over the gentle breeze.
Malfoy forced a smile, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're doing wonderfully, darling," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
Scorpius, noticing his father's distress, approached with concern etched on his young face. "Dada, you okay?" he asked, his tiny hand finding Draco's.
The older wizard knelt down, pulling the boy into a hug. "I'm fine, son. Just lost in thought," he assured him, though his heart ached with regret.
As the children resumed their play, Malfoy wandered towards the tranquil lake, seeking solace in its still waters. He tossed stones absentmindedly, each splash a reminder of the moments that had slipped through his fingers.
Suddenly, a young man appeared beside him, his hazel eyes and aura of mystery capturing his attention. "Time has a way of catching up with itself, doesn't it, Uncle Draco?" the wizard remarked, a knowing smile on his lips.
Malfoy's confusion was evident. "Eustace? Is that really you?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.
The wizard laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "Yes, it's me. You seem surprised to see me here," Eustace replied, his gaze kind.
Draco's mind reeled as Hermione's brother explained the consequences of the time turner's activation. "You mean to tell me that my actions altered our timeline?" Malfoy questioned, trying to grasp the reality before him.
Eustace nodded, his expression serious. "When you used the time turner, it created a ripple effect. I woke up in a world where Hermione never died," he revealed.
Draco's breath hitched, the implications of the young wizard's words dawning on him. "So, in this timeline, I fought with the Order?" he asked, seeking confirmation.
"Yes, and you've made quite the impact," Eustace said, pride evident in his voice.
Malfoy pondered the relationships that had formed in this new reality. "And Hermione, she's James' godmother?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
His wife's stepbrother smiled. "She is. And you, Stella, Scorpius, and James have become inseparable," he confirmed.
The weight of this knowledge settled heavily on Draco's shoulders. "I never imagined my actions would lead to such a change," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Eustace placed a reassuring hand on his uncle's shoulder. "It's a lot to take in, but you've been given a second chance," he said, his eyes filled with empathy.
Malfoy looked back towards the garden, where Narcissa's voice carried over to them. "Come, join us for dinner. The children have been asking for you," she called out, her tone warm and inviting.
Draco took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. "Let's go, Eustace. It's time to make new memories," he said, determination in his step.
As they walked back to the manor, Malfoy knew that while the past could not be changed, the future was his to shape. With his family by his side, he was ready to embrace the life he had been given, come what may.
The library was a sanctuary showcasing a vast collection of ancient tomes and treasured works of literature. The flickering flames in the fireplace illuminated the room with a cozy radiance. Malfoy sat in his favorite armchair, lost in thought, when Hermione's arms encircled him from behind.
"Draco," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the night.
He reached up to clasp her hands, pulling her around to face him. "Mia," he replied, his heart swelling with devotion as he drew her onto his lap.
They sat together, watching the dance of the flames. Outside, the world was hushed, the children asleep after a bedtime story that had become a nightly ritual.
"Dada, please tell us 'bout the three brudders one more time!" Stella had pleaded, her eyes wide with wonder.
Scorpius, ever the contrarian, had groaned. "Ellie, I'm bored of that story! Dada, tell us a new one, pwease!"
Giggles, the house elf, had been firm. "Young Master Scorpius, Young Mistress Stella, it's time for bed," he insisted, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Twirl, the other elf, had been more lenient, cooing at the twins as they protested. "Now, now, little ones, let's not fuss," she had soothed, her tone gentle.
In the library, Hermione's gaze remained fixed on the fire. "Draco, I know about the alternate timeline," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Veela's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Sirius, Remus, and my brother have been working to stabilize our current timeline with the help of other Unspeakables at the Department of Mysteries," the witch explained, her eyes meeting his.
Draco's mind reeled with the implications. "But how? The concept of time travel is..."
Hermione placed a finger on his lips. "It's complicated, but we're together, and that's what matters," she said, her words cutting through his confusion.
Malfoy nodded, pulling her closer. "Together," he echoed, his voice filled with conviction.
Hermione leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. "I arrived in this timeline with Eustace. It was disorienting, waking up in a strange place," she admitted.
Draco's embrace tightened. "But we found each other," he said, his voice laced with relief.
His wife smiled, a tear escaping down her cheek. "I've been waiting for you to remember everything," she said, her voice tinged with hope.
The wizard's heart ached with the weight of her words. "Sirius said the day was close," she murmured, his thoughts racing.
As Hermione approached him in the office earlier that day, Draco had felt a shift within him. "I knew you were back," she said, her eyes shining with joy.
Malfoy held her, his wings unfurling to envelop them both in a cocoon of warmth and light. "I feel complete," he whispered, his soul finally at peace.
In the embrace of the night, Draco and Hermione sat, their hearts entwined. Their love, once a distant dream, now stood within reach, as tangible as the ancient tomes that lined the shelves around them. Like the ripples on a lake, their journey through time had left echoes of their enduring love, a testament to the power of fate and the bonds that tie souls together.