Slightly AU where Draco is actually a good guy and changes side of the war earlier. Ever since the war, Draco has been running with a different crowd. When they were taken at Malfoy Manor, Draco rescued Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and helped them to solve the problem of the Horcruxes. Five years later, Lucius Malfoy is released from Azkaban, and the Malfoys are due a family reunion.

Houses Competition. Round 4. Slytherin. Transfiguration. Drabble. Prompt: Family Reunion. WC: 986.

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"I don't think I can do this."

My hands freeze on the knot of my tie, suddenly unable to perform the simple task of tightening it. Instead, it hangs like a noose around my neck. I look back at the mirror, already exhausted. I've become stronger since the last time I saw my father; my jaw has filled out, and my face is no longer the slender slip of glass it used to be.

"You ought to go," Hermione says, appearing over my shoulder. I look into her eyes and try to will her to tell me that we should stay at home instead, watching muggle TV and passing out under several blankets, holding hands. I want her to tell me to be a coward. "You haven't seen him in a long time. I'm sure he'll be –"

"He won't be."

"He might be."

I groan. "Granger, the man has never been loving. He's not going to have changed and become the father I always wanted. Dementors or no dementors."

Hermione sighs, half-defeated.

"It's been five years, Draco. You don't know what happened. Let's just go and find out. Alright?" She squeezes my shoulder and plants an unruly kiss on my neck. "I'll get my cardigan."

Like that, I am resigned to go. I tighten the noose around my neck and stand up.

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Six years ago, the war ended. My mother took the blame for my misdemeanours and served two years of imprisonment in my stead. My father received five years for his various crimes. Since my mother's release, she has been travelling. She sees us occasionally, but more often sends fridge magnets. Neither of us have been back to the Manor since the war.

This will be our first time.

"This is going to max out my Slytherin quota for the month," Hermione murmurs as we approach the front gates.

"Blaise's birthday is next week."

"Damn. I still want to go to that."

I smile and squeeze her hand. "You ready?"

She nods once and then turns to me. "I love you," she says. "I'm happy to be here with you. The last time I was here, though, your aunt was torturing me. It's not a simple or happy memory. And, before you say anything, I'm okay. I only mention it because I don't want you to think that I am uncomfortable around your life or your family."

I press a kiss to her forehead. "I understand. I love you."

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Six years ago, on the worst day of my life, I was lucky.

I rescued Hermione from the floor of my living room and tore myself away from my family. Instead of serving the darkness, I wove myself in with Granger and her wearisome hero friends.

It didn't happen all at once. It took grovelling, apologies, and a few helpful cures to show them that I would be loyal. I was glad to not be thrown out into the cold, though I knew they didn't fully trust me. One day, something changed. Hermione had brought me some soup. She thanked me, and then kissed me on the cheek.

After that, I was done for.

We've done the things that people in love usually do. We have vacationed, fought, and moved in together. I've introduced her to my mother, who adores her.

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I push through the front doors of the Manor, and my mother appears in front of us like a phantom.

"Draco, darling. Hermione." She sweeps us into a hug and whispers in my ear. "I saw him in the parlour. Not happy."

Fear crashes through me, and suddenly I am fourteen again, or eight, or five, and I'm drowning. Hermione tugs on my arm, pulling me through the party. She waves at our family and friends as we walk past, and I manage a grimace in return. The tie around my neck feels tighter, and my breath is disappearing.

"I should not have come," I mutter.

"Perhaps not," replies a cautious, unctuous voice.

I almost laugh out of relief, spotting my old professor seated alone in a winged armchair.

"Severus? Didn't think you'd make it out of your hovel."

"Well," he says, standing up, "it is a family reunion, and I am your godfather."

"I suppose." I pause. "Have you seen –?"

"In there." Severus points to the room on his left—the kitchen. The man then gives a brief nod to us both and slinks away as if he shouldn't be forever thanking us for saving his sorry life in the boathouse all those years ago.

"Come on," Hermione breathes, as though leading me to my death.

I feel as though I am dreaming, moving through the air with unease. Hermione is my tether, and my father will be the ruin of me. I take a step into the kitchen, and there he is. His back is turned, hunched over, and his white hair is falling down his back, twisted and gnarled like rope.

"Father," I say, trying to be loud and confident. It comes out as a croak.

Lucius Malfoy whips around.

All this time, I didn't know what I was expecting. Maybe a face the same as the one he left with. Maybe haggard or worn. And yet, when he turns around, his eyes are crinkled. He looks old. His eyes are just as piercing as I remember.

For a moment, I am suspicious. I think of Hermione beside me, and the engagement ring in my pocket. I think of the future, and of what I want. I think that whatever this storm will bring, I will weather it.

But my father isn't looking at me with disgust. This time, when my father is looking at me, it is with an unfettered pride, and I cannot understand why.

"Draco," he says, his voice rough. "Son, it is so good to see you."

I feel my chest collapse under the weight of my relief.

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Thanks for reading!