This is a (Maybe Not-So-) Terrible Idea
Chapter Three
According to future-Theo, future-Draco lives in a brownstone in Muggle London and works in a shop on Diagon. Current-Draco had been surprised to learn that his future counterpart works for a living– surprised, but not disappointed. In fact, he's actually almost glad to hear it. It humanizes him, somehow, and shows him that he is capable of living a normal life, especially in light of finding out that this version of him has been to prison.
Also according to Theo, future-Draco doesn't have a floo in his home and instead apparates from an alley down the block from his home to work. It's for this reason that Draco has posted himself up across the street from the address which Theo gave him. From here, he'll be able to watch his future-self leave for work and then follow him. He'll have to search for him again when he gets to Diagon, but at least he'll know who to look for. For all Draco knows, the future-version of himself might have changed his appearance dramatically in nearly twenty years.
Before leaving Nott Manor, Draco glamoured his appearance for in the event that he runs into someone who might recognize the past-version of him. The last thing that Draco needs is to let anyone see him who doesn't already know that he's here. Therefore, he glamoured himself to appear to others with softer features, brown eyes rather than gray and curly hair of a darker blonde shade than his natural platinum.
Due to wanting to avoid running into anyone apart from Theo, Draco practically hid out in one of the guest rooms in Nott Manor from the time that Theo's wife, Luna Lovegood-Nott, returned home with their daughter, until it was time for him to leave to stalk himself.
Draco had a hard time believing that Theo's wife wasn't aware of his presence– it always seemed as if not much escaped her notice, even if her explanations were sometimes bizarre– but that seemed more like Theo's problem to contend with than his own.
Draco checks his heirloom pocket watch, which indicates that it is 7:48 a.m. Theo had explained that future-Draco generally gets to work around 8:15 a.m. and leaves his home around 8:00 a.m., but Draco wanted to get here early in case his future-self decides to leave early to stop for breakfast, lest he miss himself entirely.
Draco leans his shoulder against a lamppost and tucks his hands into his trouser pockets, keeping his eyes focused intently on the townhouse across the street. The front door is off-center, positioned toward the right side of the home and beside that is a bay window which Draco can picture himself sitting within with a book in hand. The curtains are drawn on the windows, both the bay window on the bottom floor and the two windows above the front door where Draco assumes that a second floor exists, so he can't see inside the home– which, admittedly, is probably for the best. He can't imagine that his future-self wouldn't be perceptive enough to notice a stranger staring into his window.
A nervous rumble rolls in the pit of Draco's stomach as he waits. He swallows hard as he contemplates the fact that he is likely about to see the identity of the witch whom he is going to marry. At least he hopes that he is. He's never thought much of it before, but a not-insignificant part of himself is hoping that his future wife is the sort to kiss him on the front porch as he leaves for work and all of the domesticity that that implies.
He's also about to see himself, nearly twenty years into the future– and he's not sure which thought terrifies him more.
The front door of future-Draco's brownstone opens– painfully slowly. Draco holds his breath as his heart hammers against his ribcage. He waits for a moment before the first person becomes visible from within the home– a small, platinum blonde-haired boy.
It's when Draco realizes what appears to be happening that he quickly and covertly casts an amplification charm on his own left ear. He needs to hear what they're saying.
After the young boy, an adult man who bears striking resemblance to the aforementioned boy ducks through the doorway– future-Draco.
Draco thinks that he likely stops breathing as he observes (read: stares at) the future version of himself. Fortunately, future-Draco appears to have grown into his stature and while he looks a bit tired, his skin looks far less gray than current-Draco's stress-addled self does. Future-Draco is tall with broad shoulders and pale white-blonde hair. His jaw is sharp, accentuated by the prison tattoo just beneath it. Current-Draco wonders briefly if he has any other tattoos, like Theo does, or if having two tattoos forced upon him was quite enough for him.
Future-Draco is dressed in black trousers and a black button-down with black dragonhide shoes, none of which give current-Draco any sort of indication as to what he does for a living as Theo hadn't supplied that information either.
The man across the street bends down to eye-level with his miniature clone and speaks quietly to him– too quietly for even Draco's charm to hear– before scooping him up under his arms and balancing the child on his hip with an ease as if he's done so thousands of times. The child– current-Draco guesses that he's possibly around six-or-so years-old– relaxes into his supposed father's arms, resting his head against his shoulder.
"Draco?" a voice– feminine, soft, yet sharp– calls from inside the home. "Is Scorpius with you?"
Scorpius. If current-Draco were to hazard a guess, he would assume that that name choice was his own influence. He supposes that it is rather nice that his future wife agreed to go along with his family tradition regarding children's names.
Future-Draco smiles, turning his head back toward the still-open doorway, presumably to respond to his wife.
"Yes, love!" he replies, his voice barely raised, only enough for his wife to hear him– though he does cover the young boy's ear with his much larger hand to muffle himself, too. "He says he wants to go to work with me today!"
Future-Draco chuckles softly, barely righting himself with a small 'oof' as another small, blonde blur crashes into his legs. As the momentum stops, current-Draco can see that this second blur is, in fact, a little girl with platinum blonde pigtails hanging down her back who appears to be about the same age as the boy before her. Her arms and legs are wrapped tightly around one of her father's legs, appearing to hold on for dear life as she looks up at him with a missing-tooth grin.
Two children? Current-Draco quickly runs through the list of pureblood families– Weasleys notwithstanding– with two children that he can think of, of which, there aren't many. The Greengrasses have two daughters, but Astoria, the younger of the two, has always been rather sickly. Outside of them, the Malfoys, the Notts, the Parkinsons, even the Flints each have only one heir. Two children is rather unheard of among pureblood circles.
"Oh, does he now?" that same feminine voice asks with a musical laugh, though, this time it sounds closer. After a moment, a shorter– by comparison to future-Draco, anyway– woman steps over the threshold and current-Draco is sure that his heart stops when he recognizes her.
Wild caramel curls are the first thing that Draco notices. Two sets of them.
"Is that right, Scor? You're going to work with Daddy today?" Hermione bloody Granger asks, using her free hand– the hand not balancing an equally curly-haired toddler high on her side, above her visibly pregnant stomach– to bop the young boy on the nose with a playful smile.
Four children?! Hermione Granger?! … Daddy? Each of those observations are equally as jarring to Draco, yet hearing his– alleged– future-wife refer to him so casually to their children and seeing himself act so casually with them is perhaps the most surprising. Draco isn't sure that he was ever allowed to climb on his father like that– and he certainly never referred to him as anything other than 'Father'. Lucius Malfoy would've avada'd Draco dead if he ever called his father 'Dad'.
The boy, still attached to his father, cheers, evidently in agreement with his mother's teasing.
"I'm sorry, my scorpion, but Daddy can't take you to work today. I'm positive that he will play with you when he gets home, though. Right, Draco?" future-Draco's wife (current-Draco has decided to ignore her identity for the moment because there's no way that he's seeing what he thinks that he's seeing) states, her voice soft and kind as she speaks to her child and somewhat leading as she speaks to her husband.
"Yes, of course, my loves. When do I not?" Draco replies, though something in his voice sounds almost sad, his eyes focused intently on his wife.
"And Mummy, too!" the girl with her arms and legs coiled around future-Draco's left leg shouts from below.
If someone were to ask current-Draco for his opinion, it appears that future-Draco has done quite enough playing with his wife if the soon-to-be four children mean anything, but fortunately for him, nobody has asked him.
"Yes, Mummy too!" future-Draco chuckles, resting his free hand on the top of the girl's blonde head.
A moment– and what appears to be a silent conversation– passes between future-Draco and his wife.
Future-Granger flushes, biting her bottom lip as future-Draco continues to stare her down and for a moment, it's almost as if they are the only two people in the world. Current-Draco is positive that he has never looked at a witch like that before in his life.
"Stop thinking what you're thinking," future-Granger breathes, adjusting the brown-haired toddler in her arms. "Go to work, Draco. We'll all be here when you get back. I promise."
Future-Draco quirks a half-smile down at the witch before him.
"Can't. You are very tempting, Granger."
Current-Draco rolls his eyes.
"I've been a Malfoy for almost nine years, Draco," she huffs, staring defiantly up at her husband.
"And you'll always be my 'Granger'," future-Draco winks, smiling a dazzling, white smile down at her. "Now, come give Daddy a kiss so that I can get to work before I'm late."
Future-Granger scrunches up her nose in distaste and thank Salazar for small miracles because current-Draco certainly doesn't want to have to examine a future version of himself having a Daddy kink at this moment in time. He's not in the business of shaming, but that just might've put him over the edge today.
Future-Draco laughs a bright laugh, unlike anything current-Draco has possibly ever done before. The laugh is joyous, uninhibited and light, as if he laughs like that often.
Future-Granger– or future-Malfoy as she insists, though current-Draco thinks that that could get confusing– breathes a laugh alongside her husband, wrapping her second arm around the toddler on her hip to steady him as she stands on her toes to press her lips softly to the underside of future-Draco's jaw.
Future-Draco leans into her, and the picture they make as a family of five (almost six) stirs an unusual feeling in current-Draco's chest. He can't quite name it, but he thinks that he might like it.
Future-Draco turns his head to the opposite direction of his wife, depositing a kiss to one of the rounded cheeks of his son's face and saying something to him quietly before letting him down to stand on his own feet.
"He'll be too big to do that soon enough," future-Granger whispers, leaning her temple against future-Draco's shoulder with a mournful sigh.
Future-Draco whips his head in her direction as he lifts his daughter into his arms in much the same way as he had his son earlier.
"Never. Just because they get bigger doesn't mean that they stop being my kids."
Future-Granger smiles.
"You're a good man, Draco Malfoy."
Current-Draco's heart swells. Until this moment, there wasn't a world in which Draco could've imagined this particular witch saying those words to him. He wants to hear it again.
Future-Draco looks longingly at his wife for a moment before turning his attention to his right, toward his daughter.
"Have a good day, Carina," future-Draco says, hugging his daughter close to him for a moment and kissing the top of her head before setting her on her feet beside her brother– Scorpius, current-Draco remembers.
Next, future-Draco turns his attention to the much younger child in future-Granger's arms– the toddler, who appears to be around two, maybe three years-old.
"And you have a good day too, Orion," future-Draco beams, bending down and kissing the mop of curly brown hair atop the toddler's head.
Scorpius, Carina, Orion. A future version of Hermione Granger adhered to an old House of Black family tradition when she named her children. Current-Draco isn't sure why that tugs at his heartstrings so hard in this moment, but it most definitely does.
Finally, future-Draco turns his attention to his wife as his two eldest children bound off behind her, back inside their brownstone. With his now free hands, future-Draco lifts them both to cup his wife's face.
"You have a good day too, my love," he says quietly, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb as he leans down to press a lingering, meaningful kiss to her lips. The pair stay in that position for longer than a beat. Clearly, this is a kiss that means something to them. "I love you, Hermione."
One of future-Draco's hands drops from the side of her face down to brush along the side of her rounded stomach.
"I love you too, Draco," future-Granger responds without missing a beat, without hesitation. "I love you so much."
Future-Draco kisses her again, once on her lips and then her forehead.
"One of these days we'll ship the kids off to Grandma Weasley's so that Mummy and Daddy can get a night to ourselves– preferably before Leo is born."
Grandma Weasley? Current-Draco also decides not to contend with that for the moment– far too much to unpack there.
Future-Hermione smiles and nods a sad little nod for a moment before turning to soft laughter.
"Stop getting me pregnant and maybe we'll have more time together, just the two of us," future-Granger jokes, placing a hand atop where future-Draco's still rests on her abdomen.
"Oh, absolutely not. Not a chance, love," future-Draco chuckles, eyeing his wife deviously. "I happen to thoroughly enjoy getting you pregnant. It's also sort of inevitable with how insatiable you are."
Future-Granger's jaw drops, though her eyes are sparkling with mirth.
"Why, I'm sure I don't know what you mean. I seem to recall that it was you who kept us up so late last night," she giggles, tangling her fingers with future-Draco's in order to remove them from her stomach. "Go to work, Draco, before you get yourself in trouble."
Future-Draco swoops down, catching his wife's lips in one last heated kiss– which said wife seems to happily accept, even pulling him close by the hold she has on his hand– before he steps back and down the first step from their front porch.
"And what if I like being in trouble with you?"
Future-Granger shakes her head with a laugh.
"Have a good day, Draco. We love you. Hurry home."
Hi, friends! Happy Wednesday. Sorry I'm late. Yesterday was a long day, lol.
Anyway, this chapter was basically the inspiration for this entire fic. I just wanted to write a scene of past-Draco watching future-Draco interact with his wife and family. We get more of past-Draco's thoughts on all of this over the next couple of chapters, but I really love this chapter. (:
Thank you, as always, for spending a bit of your time here with me this week. I am truly so, so grateful.
Please, if you feel so inclined, leave a review. They make me happy. (:
See you again next week.