It is time for their reunion! Also enjoy this little snippet of Rose chasing the Snitch.
Rose's heart raced with excitement as the golden Snitch zipped past her, glittering in the sunlight like a tiny, mischievous beacon. She barely heard the hum of the bustling street around her, completely fixated on the darting ball just ahead. It danced through the air, weaving between the legs of strangers, teasing her with its speed as it hovered just out of reach. Her small legs moved faster, her curls bouncing wildly with each determined step.
The world around her had faded into a blur of noise and colour, but all Rose cared about was the thrill of the chase. The Snitch seemed alive, almost laughing at her attempts to catch it, but she wasn't deterred. She could almost hear her daddy's voice in her head, telling her to keep her eye on the prize, just like when they'd watched Quidditch matches together. She imagined herself as a Seeker—quick, nimble, fearless, just like Uncle Harry.
She giggled as she darted around a group of older witches, narrowly avoiding bumping into them. The Snitch dipped lower, tantalisingly close, and Rose stretched her small hands out, her fingers brushing the edge of the golden wings. But before she could grasp it, the Snitch shot upward again, soaring high above her head, too fast for her to follow.
Her brow furrowed in concentration as she chased it deeper into the crowded street, weaving through the maze of legs, robes, and bustling shoppers. She was vaguely aware of her mother's voice calling her name, but it was distant, as if part of a dream. All that mattered was catching the Snitch. She was so close.
Rose's determination never wavered, even as her breathing grew heavier and her little legs began to tire. The Snitch darted toward Flourish and Blotts , and Rose followed it without hesitation, not realising how far she had gone from where she had started. She stumbled once, nearly tripping over her own feet, but quickly regained her balance and pushed on.
She wasn't scared. Not yet. Her mind was focused only on catching the Snitch, just like a real Seeker would. But as the golden ball swerved sharply to the right, her foot caught on something—a loose stone in the cobbled street—and she stumbled straight into the legs of a tall figure she hadn't seen.
Draco stepped out of Flourish and Blotts , tucking the thick tome he'd just purchased under his arm. The midday sun was bright, casting long shadows across the cobbled street as witches and wizards bustled around him. He adjusted his satchel and took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, already looking forward to the quiet evening he planned to spend delving into the book on advanced potion theories. Diagon Alley was as busy as ever, the usual hum of chatter and clatter filling the air, but Draco felt detached from it, as he so often did these days. He was content with his solitude, avoiding the crowds as he walked down the street with a practised indifference.
But as he passed by a group of children playing with a toy broomstick outside Quality Quidditch Supplies , something unexpected caught his attention. A flicker of gold zipped through the air—a small, enchanted Snitch, barely larger than a walnut. It darted erratically, just out of reach of a little girl who was chasing it with single-minded determination.
Draco paused, watching the scene unfold. The girl couldn't have been more than four or five, her wild red curls bouncing as she ran, her focus entirely on the Snitch. She was smaller than the other children playing nearby, but her intensity made her stand out. The Snitch weaved through the air, and the girl chased after it with surprising speed, her tiny legs propelling her forward as if nothing else in the world mattered.
Just as the Snitch took a sharp dive toward the ground, the girl reached out to grab it, but instead collided directly with Draco, stumbling back in surprise.
"Oi!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed and startled, as if she hadn't even noticed him standing there.
Draco blinked, momentarily unsure of what to do. The book under his arm shifted awkwardly as he steadied the child, glancing down at her with a frown. She looked up at him with big, brown eyes filled with confusion and a hint of fear, her hands still outstretched as if she hadn't yet realised she wasn't chasing the Snitch anymore.
For a moment, Draco didn't move. He hadn't interacted with children much since... well, since everything had fallen apart. But there was something about this little girl—something in her wide, innocent eyes—that stirred something deep in his chest. Something that ached, something he'd been trying to bury for years.
"Where's your parents?" he asked, his tone clipped but not unkind. His voice was more formal than he intended, but he didn't know how else to speak to a child who looked at him like she was caught between fascination and fear.
The girl looked around, her small brows knitting together in confusion. Her wide eyes darted from one stranger to the next, each unfamiliar face adding to the rising worry in her gaze. "I… I don't know," she whispered, her voice wavering just a bit. Her gaze dropped as if speaking the words out loud made them more real. "I lost my mum."
Draco saw the growing fear in her face, her little hands clutching tightly at the edges of her coat as she glanced about the bustling street, clearly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the crowd. She shifted on her feet, her head turning as if hoping she'd suddenly catch sight of the familiar figure she was missing.
Rubbing his temple in frustration, Draco sighed. Of all the things he hadn't expected today, playing babysitter to a lost child certainly wasn't one of them. He looked down at the little girl again, her eyes now brimming with uncertainty, and something unfamiliar yet painfully familiar tugged at him.
She reminded him of—no, he couldn't go there. Not now. Not ever.
His hand tightened on the book he was holding, the weight of it grounding him. He had every reason to walk away, to let someone else deal with this. But the idea of leaving her alone, lost in the middle of Diagon Alley, felt simply wrong.
Draco crouched down to her level, softening his voice slightly. "Alright, what's your name?" he asked, a hint of warmth breaking through his usual cool tone.
The girl looked at him, her gaze still a little uncertain. "Rose," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept glancing up at him with curiosity, as if trying to figure out who this tall, silvery-haired man was and why he was helping her.
Rose. The name felt oddly fitting for her—a name full of life, something delicate yet resilient. Draco's chest tightened as he searched the crowd, his eyes scanning the bustling street for any sign of a frantic mother searching for her child.
"Rose, where were you before you started chasing that Snitch?" Draco asked, trying to keep his tone neutral. He wasn't particularly skilled at making conversation with children, but he figured the more he knew, the quicker they could find her mother and he could be on his way.
"We were getting ice cream," Rose answered, her voice soft but steadying now that she seemed to trust him. "But then I saw the Snitch and it flew away, so I ran after it."
Draco fought the urge to sigh again. Of course. He glanced down at her, her cheeks still flushed from her impromptu chase. She reminded him of Potter as a child—so reckless, so determined to catch something that was always just out of reach.
"Come on, then," he said, softer this time, though still distant. "Let's find her."
The little girl hesitated for only a moment before taking his outstretched hand, her small fingers wrapping trustingly around his. She looked up at him with those wide eyes, still wary but oddly trusting. Draco felt that strange pang again, like an old wound that had not fully healed. He forced himself to push it away.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as they began to walk, his strides slow to match her smaller steps.
Rose thought for a moment, glancing around as if the answer might be hidden among the busy streets. "I think… I will be okay," she replied, her voice small but clear.
As they moved further down the street, Draco couldn't help but feel a strange sense of responsibility toward her. Rose's grip on his hand tightened as the crowd thickened, and he instinctively kept her close, his other hand lightly guiding her through the bustling mass of people.
"Do you know where your mother might be?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice calm, though there was a slight edge to his tone. He didn't like not knowing where this was going. The sooner they found Rose's mother, the sooner he could return to his own solitude.
Rose nodded. "She was sitting with me by the ice cream shop," she said, pointing in the vague direction of Florean Fortescue's .
Draco's stomach twisted at her words. He didn't want to think about the panic that might be running through her mother's mind right now. He had been lost once, a long time ago, in a different way. The fear was the same. He quickened their pace, Rose jogging beside him to keep up with his long strides.
When they arrived at the ice cream parlour, the small outdoor tables were filled with patrons enjoying their sweets, but there was no sign of a frantic mother searching for her daughter. Draco's frown deepened as he glanced around. Rose clung to his hand, her face scrunching up in confusion.
"She's not here," Rose said, her voice shaky. "She must have gone to look for me."
Draco nodded slowly, his mind working through the possibilities. The mother probably wouldn't have stayed in one place if she thought her daughter was missing. She was probably combing Diagon Alley herself, searching for Rose with the same intensity he would, was it him.
"We'll have to retrace your steps," Draco said, making a decision. "Where else did you go today?"
Rose looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to remember. "We went to Flourish and Blotts to get a book. And then we went to the Quidditch shop." She paused, frowning. "Mummy likes books. I like brooms."
Draco couldn't help the faint twitch of his lips at her innocent declaration. "Well, let's start with Flourish and Blotts," he said, gently nudging her forward. "We'll figure it out from there."
Together, they started back toward the bookshop, Draco slowing his pace to match Rose's shorter strides. The crowd had grown thicker now, making it harder to navigate, but Draco kept a firm hold on Rose's hand. As they moved, he found himself oddly protective of the little girl. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he wasn't entirely comfortable with, but he couldn't deny the strange connection he felt toward her. There was something about her—her wide eyes, her innocent trust—that tugged at a part of him he had long forgotten he had.
As they neared Flourish and Blotts , Draco glanced down at Rose. "How old are you?" he asked, his voice calm but curious.
"I'm four," Rose replied proudly, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Almost five."
Draco nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. "What were you doing in Diagon Alley today?"
Rose's face brightened. "Mummy and I were getting ice cream and looking at the shops. I really like the brooms in the Quidditch shop."
Draco smirked slightly. "Of course you do," he muttered, then added, "And your mother—did she just let you wander off?"
Rose shook her head, her curls bouncing. "No, I just wanted to catch the Snitch, and then... I couldn't find her anymore."
Draco bit back a sigh, glancing ahead. "I'm sure she's looking for you right now."
When they reached the book store, Draco scanned the entrance, but once again, there was no sign of anyone missing their child. His frown deepened. This was starting to feel like a wild goose chase. But Rose seemed to be getting anxious again, her little fingers tightening around his hand, and Draco knew they couldn't give up.
"We'll keep looking," Draco said firmly. "We'll continue backtracking your day and see if we can find her."
Rose looked up at him with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "Do you think she's scared?"
Draco glanced down at her, something tightening in his chest. "Yes," he said quietly, "but we'll find her soon."
They moved on, heading toward Quality Quidditch Supplies next, passing by the groups of children still playing outside the shop. An empty crate with images of snitches on the wood, solving the mystery of the rogue snitch Rose had been chasing.
Draco kept a close eye on Rose as they approached, half-expecting to see an older version of her waiting there, but once again, they found nothing. He could feel the frustration building within him, but Rose's quiet determination kept him moving.
"We were here for a long time," Rose said, looking up at Draco as they lingered by the window display. "I wanted to look at all the brooms and the gear."
Draco glanced at the gleaming brooms in the window—Firebolts, Thunderbolts, and other high-end models—before turning his attention back to Rose. "Well, I doubt your mother stayed here after you ran off. Let's go back to where you started."
Rose nodded, though she looked uncertain. "We started at the Leaky Cauldron," she said quietly.
Draco's brows lifted slightly at that. "Let's go," he said, steering her gently through the crowd once more.
The walk toward the Leaky Cauldron was quieter than before. Draco could sense Rose's growing anxiety as they got further into the edge of Diagon Alley. He kept his grip on her hand firm, offering silent reassurance, though he wasn't sure why he cared so much about what this child thought or felt. Something about her had struck a chord in him.
As they neared the Leaky Cauldron, Draco's eyes scanned the area, and finally, in the distance, he spotted a familiar figure moving quickly through the crowd.
Hermione Granger .
She was standing near the entrance, her face pale, her eyes wide as she called out desperately, her voice breaking slightly with each cry of "Rose!" The crowd seemed to swirl around her, but Draco could see the panic etched into her features, the kind of raw fear only a mother could know.
Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. Granger. Of all people.
It had been years since he had last seen her, and yet here she was, as vivid as ever. She hadn't changed much—still the same wild curls, still the same intensity in her eyes. But there was something softer about her now, something more fragile.
For a moment, Draco considered turning back, walking away. He wasn't prepared for this. He wasn't ready to face her, to be reminded of everything they had once been—enemies, rivals, and reluctant allies.
But then Rose tugged on his hand, her small voice breaking through his thoughts. "Do you see my Mummy?"
Draco looked down at her, and something inside him softened, just for a moment. He couldn't leave. Not now.
"Yes," he said, his voice steady. "I believe that's your mother."
With a gentle nudge, he urged Rose forward, letting go of her hand as she ran toward Hermione, her small legs carrying her across the cobbled street with a speed that only a child's relief could fuel.
"Mummy!" Rose cried, her voice filled with joy and innocence.
Granger turned just in time to see her daughter running toward her, her eyes filling with tears as she dropped to her knees and scooped Rose into her arms. She clutched her daughter tightly, whispering words of comfort and reassurance, her face pressed into Rose's hair as though she never wanted to let go.
Draco watched the scene unfold from a distance, his heart oddly heavy as he stood there, silent and unnoticed. The resemblance between mother and child was uncanny, though there was no question as to who the father was then. The familiar feeling he had felt when he first saw Rose, the bouncing curls and brown eyes, was quickly resolved as an image of a girl with unruly brown hair and demanding golden eyes lecturing him played in his head.
After a few moments, Granger pulled back, brushing tears from her eyes as she looked down at Rose. "Where were you? I was so worried!" she said, her voice shaky but filled with love.
Rose pointed back toward Draco, who was still standing a few paces away, his expression unreadable. "The man with the white hair helped me," Rose said brightly, completely unaware of the tension building in the air.
Granger's eyes followed Rose's gesture, and when they landed on Draco, her entire body seemed to go still. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Time stretched between them, thick and heavy with unspoken memories. The past hung in the air, tangible and suffocating.
"Malfoy," Granger finally said, her voice carefully measured. It wasn't angry, but it wasn't exactly warm, either. Her eyes flickered with something—recognition, surprise, perhaps even gratitude, though she hid it well.
"Granger," Draco replied, his tone equally controlled. He kept his expression neutral, though his mind was racing. This wasn't how he had expected the day to go.
There was an awkward pause as they both stood there, each unsure of what to say, the weight of their shared history hanging heavily between them. Rose, blissfully unaware of the tension, smiled up at Draco, her earlier fear completely forgotten.
"Thank you," Granger said after a beat, her voice soft but sincere. "For helping her."
Draco gave a small nod, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away. "You should keep a better eye on her," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It wasn't meant to be cruel, but he knew it would sting nonetheless.
Granger's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with irritation. "I had everything under control," she snapped, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed the fear she was still trying to shake.
Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He could have argued, but what was the point? They both knew the truth, and it wasn't worth arguing in front of the child.
Just as the tension between him and Granger reached a heavy silence, Rose broke it with her innocent curiosity. She had been watching them both closely, her small hand still gripping her mother's tightly, but her attention was now fully on Draco. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and curiosity as she gazed up at him.
"What's your name?" Rose asked, her voice soft but confident, as if this was the most important question in the world. Her head tilted slightly as she studied Draco, waiting for his answer.
Draco blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He wasn't used to such straightforward, innocent questions anymore. For a moment, he simply stared down at the child, unsure of how to respond. Her eyes—so wide, so trusting—seemed to pull at something deep within him. A warmth bloomed in his chest, quiet but unmistakable, and it took him a moment to realise what it was.
"My name?" Draco repeated, his voice softer than usual as he crouched down to her level, his usual cool demeanour cracking just a little. "It's Draco. Draco Malfoy."
Rose's face lit up with a bright smile, the kind of smile that was pure and full of life, completely unaware of the tense history between the adults standing above her. "Draco," she repeated, as if trying the name out for herself. "Like dragon!" She added excitedly, and Draco couldn't help but flash a smile her way.
"That's a nice name." She paused for a moment before adding, "Thank you for helping me find Mummy."
Draco's heart clenched unexpectedly at her gratitude. He wasn't used to hearing those words, especially from a child, and certainly not one who looked at him with such genuine appreciation. His usual snarky retorts or polite dismissals seemed to vanish in the face of her simple thanks.
"You're welcome," he replied, his voice gentler than he intended, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. For the briefest moment, a glimmer of light shone through the darkness that shadowed his life. His losses and regrets一momentarily overshadowed by the small connection with this innocent child.
Granger, watching the interaction, seemed momentarily taken aback. Her usual guardedness wavered as she looked between Draco and her daughter, her eyes softening ever so slightly.
Rose, still beaming, looked back up at her mother. "Mummy, Draco is nice," she declared confidently, as if her opinion was final.
Granger blinked, the corner of her mouth twitching with the hint of a smile, although her eyes remained wary. "Yes, well," she said, her tone softening just a little, "he did help us today."
Draco straightened up, his expression slipping back into something more neutral, but the warmth from Rose's words lingered.
He gave Granger a brief nod, the silent understanding passing between them before he turned to leave, his dark robes sweeping behind him. As he walked away, the tension between him and Granger lingering in the air, he glanced back at Rose for a brief moment. Her wide eyes still sparkled with the same innocence and warmth as before. She looked at him without the weight of history, without judgement—just gratitude and trust. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but not unwelcome.
As he continued down the bustling street, a hint of a smile ghosted across his lips. Maybe, just maybe, the day hadn't been as bad as he'd expected. The thought lingered, surprising him, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Draco's heart felt just a little lighter.
He found his mind wandering back to Rose's small hand in his, the way she had trusted him so easily. It was a stark contrast to the way most people viewed him—haunted by his past, his name a constant reminder of things he'd rather forget. But in Rose's eyes, he had been just a man who had helped her, nothing more, nothing less.
As the distant hum of Diagon Alley continued around him, Draco realised he was still smiling—a small, barely-there curve of his lips that felt foreign but right. Maybe helping that little girl wasn't just a fleeting moment. Maybe it was something more, a quiet reminder that life, despite its burdens, still had room for happiness.
Thank you for reading! Next week they will be returning to their mundane lives.