Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In Fond Remembrance	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 22794 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the very witty and very rich JK Rowling. I do not make any make any money - from this story. I do own the computer this was typed on.

Chapter List
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“We need to get to Potter’s”
At that pronouncement, three heads lifted from the family pensieve.
In the background, Rachel zinged the asses of three Malfoy males — eleven-year-old twin terrors Scorpius and Orion and five-year-old Leo. They’d ripped Richard’s garden trellises out to use the wood to build a launchpad; George Weasley’d gifted them a new batch of experimental explosives. The last batch left the twins eyebrow-less and Crookshanks the Second bald as a bowling ball.
“Are you ready to see reason now?”
“I want restitution! That monster attacked my little girl!”
The “monster” had quietly floo’d home to prepare for the war to come.
Moving around her irate husband, Hermione gathered up a few items and steered Lyra and her father towards the floo. The valise held enough for an overnight stay at 12 Grimmauld Place — straightening this out might take all night.
“POTTER!? POTTER!! Show yourself and bring that cowardly spawn of yours with you! To think I trusted him with my daughter! Treated the pervert like my own son! POTTER!!!!”
Draco powered his way into the gathering room of the house he’d visited many times. Behind him came a sniffling Lyra, restarting her accusations of hypocrisy and cold-heartedness, and Hermione who remained unnaturally calm given the situation affecting her only daughter.
“Uncle Draco let me —“
“JP! Baby, how’s your —”
“DON’T CALL THAT SEXUAL PREDATOR ‘BABY’!”
“Pa-pa, STOP! I consented! I LOVE him!”
“YOU’RE UNDERAGE — THAT’S RAPE!”
“I’ll be seventeen in 2 —”
“Draco Malfoy! Shut it before I hex you back to your island!”
This came from the other mother in the room, Ginny Potter. Nodding with a hint of a grin at Hermione, Ginny placed herself on the sofa between the protective Slytherin father and her firstborn.
Behind her, absolutely enjoying Draco’s tirade, came Harry Potter — father of the accused.
“POTTER — how are you going to restore my daughter’s innocence!?!? That RAPIST you raised RUINED —”
“He’s not your godson anymore?” Harry teased.
“Not after I KILL him and remove his offending pieces!”
“Pa-pa! I WILL NOT let you hurt my HUSBAND!”
That brought Draco up short — along with the wandless, wordless jinx his little Lyra singed his arse with.
“DON’T CALL THAT CRADLE ROBBER ‘HUSBAND’ — YOU’RE UNDERAGE AND I DIDN’T SIGN ANY BLOODY —”
“Ginny and I did,” came from his mate as she hooked her arm through his. Draco went silent, his jaw hanging slack in shock.
“Feel that tingle, Dragon? Let me tell you a story. Lyra, remind your daddy of the first time you kissed James.”
“It was after that awful Lucy Weasley called me a bas—”
“We remember the name, sweetheart. James — I’m sure you remember. Tell your godfather what happened when Lyra kissed you.”
“My face got hot and it tickled even when she stopped kissing me,” the boy described as his eyes found his love; his features softened and he smiled affectionately, “Still does.”
“Why did you encourage them!?” Pa-pa Malfoy shouted at his wife.
“Because I recognized James and Lyra were already bonded when they were children. I owe them a debt; if I hadn’t watched it happen I wouldn’t have figured out how to solve our little problem with a male heir — with the Malfoy portraits’ help,” and she squeezed his arm as a reminder of the days when his Malfoy legacy almost became the Greengrass-Weasley legacy.
As a father, Draco’d established one immutable law with his eldest and only daughter:

He’d hex the balls off of any boy who did to his baby girl what Draco’d done to her mother; there’d be no more bastard Malfoys.
Lyra kept to the letter of the “Malfoy Marriage Law” while completely violating its spirit as laid down by her father: the child Lyra conceived during her final semester at Hogwarts was technically a Potter; she and James had secretly married muggle-style over winter’s break with their grandparents as witnesses.
“She’s a baby, Lioness!” the brokenhearted father cried out in despair.
“And she’ll always be our baby. She brought us together and made us a family. But babies grow up, Dragon. Our baby is a woman and a wife and will soon be a mother. We’re going to be grandparents.”
“It’s not FAIR! He got ALL SIXTEEN years with her!”
Buried in his jealous rant was the pain of losing the first 4 years of Lyra’s life, a decision Hermione would reverse if she could do so without damaging what they’d built for themselves and their extended family: Draco, their children, the Malfoy grandparents, Hermione’s parents (now that they were Granger’s again), the Potters, the Zabinis, the Weasleys (except Ronald) and myriad others.
“I know, Dragon…” she spoke to the tears in his eyes, “and I would gift them to you if I could.”
“Just… Just tell me how this happened without my knowledge — or consent.”
“As I said,” Hermione continued, clearing the lump from her own throat, “Ginny and I realized quite some time ago that James and Lyra had a special relationship. They’d been spending more and more time together at Hogwarts, despite being in different houses.”
Lyra went to Slytherin thanks to Lucius’ advanced private tutoring; James couldn’t have escaped Gryffindor with help from Dumbledore’s portrait (which hadn’t happened).
“Minerva kept an eye on them for us. Last year when they were caught snogging by the lake, Ginny and I went to the school and talked at length with them.”
“To what? Explain the contraception spell?”
“No, Dragon; to ensure that we as parents understood where they were in their relationship. Remember — they already shared the Malfoy bond. We just decided to make a quick check since James would graduate a year before Lyra.”
Ginny took over the explanation from this point, maintaining her position between James and Draco; the defeated family head had flopped into a chair a tad too near her son.
“They told us they hadn’t shagged yet and we believed them. Hermione caught me up on the details of the Malfoy mating bond and how it worked — so, with Minerva’s permission, we brought the children to the Manor and left them waiting in the garden while Narcissa, Hermione and I hid in one of those sconces. They’re big enough to hold a party in, Malfoy — how many people did you put in those things?”
“Not enough to keep a Malfoy from becoming a Potter…” Draco muttered — and Hermione pinched him for insulting Harry and James.
“Ten seconds later we knew; they couldn’t stay away from each other. We made an agreement with them: if James would actually graduate — unlike his git of a father”
“Hey!” Harry objected.
“— and Lyra would accelerate her program to graduate a year earlier, we’d sign for their marriage. Blaise handled the marriage contract.”
On hearing this information, Draco reactivated his how-to-kill-my-best-friend plan from the time when Blaise “forgot” to tell Draco about Lyra.
In the temporary silence, a gangly Malfoy male — one of a “set” — tumbled out of the floo ahead of a string of expletives from Rachel and a command to “stay with your parents until the end of he world!” Whatever he’d been up to with his twin had exhausted his nanny’s patience for today.
“Do I want to know?” Hermione inquired.
“Mother, you have to understand; Rachel has an obsessive attachment to rules — even more ridiculous than yours!”
“I’d have to agree with the boy,” Draco added as he put the last of the fire out on his son’s trousers.
“Idle minds lead to trouble. We need to find you something constructive to do until we’re ready to leave.”
“Is this about Lyra and JP?”
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS!?!?!” Scorp’s elder doppelganger bellowed.
“”JP’,” Scorpius drawled like a lovesick teenage girl (reminding Hermione of Lavender Brown with her “Won-Won”), “spent more time in the dungeons than in that ridiculous red and gold tower. Lyra wouldn’t spill how she disarmed the gender charm in the girls’ tower.”
“Ridiculous” came out of the twins’ mouths nearly every other sentence. Hermione’d warned them about use of the term, with slightly different pronunciation, in spell casting but knew that only painful consequences requiring St. Mungo's visits quelled their misdeeds. With a stern look for her oldest son (by almost 15 minutes), she dug deeper into the intentions of a child she feared she’d have to keep out of Azkaban. It was as if she’d celebrated Beltaine with George Weasley eleven years ago.
Meanwhile, Scorp once again advertised the superiority of Slytherin to almost anything Gryffindor.
"JP’s too stupid to break one of Aunt Minerva’s charms."
“And why would you need to know how to break the gender charm?”
“Mother, you’ve always taught us to learn everything —” the angel hiding his pointed tail and pitchfork smirked.
“And you have —” an unhelpful Draco seconded.
Her hand came up, palm facing Draco and the Draco-clone (the twins were not identical; the Hermione clone remained in Rachel’s custody), as Hermione sought a way to channel the devious IQ he’d inherited.
“Aunt Ginny’s fruit garden could benefit from some harvesting and weeding.”
“A-LONE!?” the boy asked as if his mother suggested walking the plank.
“Gin? Can Lily help?”
“Do them both good. Lily!” her mother called.
Tumbling down the steps came Lily Luna Potter. Not quite a year older, she’d come home from first year on the Hogwarts Express in a compartment seating the Malfoy twins (also first years), her older brother Albus (a fifth year) and a very preoccupied James and Lyra Potter.
“Yes, Mum?”
“Get the baskets and you and Scorpius go out and collect some fruit. Be sure to get strawberries for Aunt Hermione if they’re ripe.”
A red-headed blur streaked into the kitchen before returning at half-speed to collect Scorpius.
“C’mon, Scorp!”
Two streaks shot out the door to the garden behind the hidden property.
Having seen the latest twin fiasco handled, Draco returned to the problem at hand — the ravishment of his daughter by one James Sirius Potter: her husband.
“Ladies, it’s time I spoke with James. A-LONE.”
“It would be unfortunate if our son-in-law and godson met with an accident before our grandchild is born, Draco.”
That quiet observation contained a ton of coded information. First, his cunning wife notified the still incensed father of the bride that she had sussed his intent. Second, she reminded him that he’d be blamed for any “accident” James suffered over the next 135 years. But the real restraint zinged in and hit a man who loved family right in the heart:
James Potter had given them a grandchild.
“Fine. I won’t leave a bruise on —”
“Not good enough, Dragon.”
The “Dragon” message meant they’d be working this out in bed.
“Then let Potter chaperone the promiscuous pillock!”
“Harry?”
“Should be interesting.”
“You’re as twisted as my husband. No damage, Draco — I mean it.”
Huffing his frustration at his inability to dominate his witch, Draco returned his attentions to James.
“You are never to raise a hand to her. Do you under—”
Before him, James Potter went scarlet and no longer made eye contact.
“You have 5 seconds to explain that look before I disintegrate you into dust and move Lyra back home where she belongs.”
“It’s just that…” the boy started, almost too embarrassed to continue, “s-s-she likes to b-b-be… spanked… on-on-on occasion. Not hard! It’s a game we play…”
“Alright, James — that’s too much information!" a traumatized Harry Potter advised his eldest, "Malfoy, don’t listen to my idiot son — he’d never hit Ly.”
“Quite alright, Potter. That particular preference is inherited.”
Harry, slowly displaying a whiter shade of pale across his face and neck, made the instantaneous decision to avoid knowing if Draco or Hermione were the recipient of those attentions.
“I don’t care what she wants, you will give it to her.”
“Uncle Dra— I mean, Lord Malfoy; We’re just starting out. I don’t have that kind of money!”
“Where will you live?”
“Here,” Harry inserted, taking a seat in the chair opposite Draco, “we’ve redone half the second floor into a flat for them. Put a floo in so Ly won’t have to climb the stairs.”
The grin from James turned the Slytherin’s stomach.
“We’re having twins, sir; two girls. Found out this morning; that’s why Lyra wanted to see me.”
At that point Draco accepted he’d been cursed and should just surrender. He’d never win with two little granddaughters to love, even though both were technically “Potters” — certainly not when Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy found out.
Merlin had cosmically fucked him — without a “by your leave” or a kiss — again.
“As your inferior intelligence cannot be corrected, we’ll have to help you take care of my daughter to the standards I require. Do you have a position lined up?”
James wanted nothing more to do with school.
“Uncle George hired me to work in his shop.”
“That won’t do. You’ll start at Chessington’s in a month. You’ll be responsible for making the park accessible to magical families without violating the secrecy statute — and for testing all new rides. As Lyra owns the place, she’ll be your superior. I’ll inform George.”
[In the end, Ron Weasley took the job with George as it paid better than his clerical job in the aurors’ department. Astoria forced him to quit field work to look after their eight children in the afternoon and evening. Evidently, Weasley fertility overcame the best contraception charms and potions (especially since Ron the Git kept getting his family planning potions and charms from George because they were “free”).]
“And you will cherish my daughter as the most precious gift you’ve ever received. You will love and protect her and my grandchildren with your life.”
In the serious and fierce expression the boy gave, Draco recognized the truth Hermione and Ginny saw; no man could possibly love his Lyra like James Potter did.
“Always have. Even from you, sir.”
Taken aback by the bold answer, Draco thanked Merlin once again that Lyra was a Slytherin. This “Gryffindor Bravery Syndrome” might make her a young widow without her father's “help”.
“I suppose you should call me ‘Dad’, if that’s okay with you, Potter.”
“I dunno,” Harry grinned in pure mischief, “I still prefer Uncle Draco.”
Draco’s sigh echoed in Scandinavia. Without amplification.
“And my only daughter tied our families together for eternity. Un-fucking-believable! Guess it could be worse; could be one of those mindless brats your brother-in-law Weaselbee is producing with my ex.”
Settling into his utter defeat, Draco heard his name and a request ending with “…come here, please?” from the true head of his own household. He abandoned his search for a full bottle of fyrewhiskey to answer the summons.
“That went better than expected” James commented as an afterthought. For the first time since Lord Malfoy discovered who’d impregnated his only daughter, James put his wand away in its quick-release holster.
“Wait until your girls discover boys, you’ll —”
… and Harry’s fatherly advice got interrupted by the silky, smug invitation from a very satisfied Slytherin to join the “family” at the window in the dining room.
“What’s got him so cheerful?” Harry mused, “C’mon; maybe Aunt Hermione stuffed some chocolate down his throat.”
Across the foyer, the four parents made a space for the two Potters. Each man stood behind his respective wife, wrapping arms around their witches and holding their hands.
“Trouble in the garden, luv?”
“Depends,” Ginny answered noncommittally, “Take a look at Lily.”
Through the glass and glasses, Harry’s gaze quickly found his daughter.
“HEY!” he yelled at the closed window before taking off for the nearest door.
In the garden on the grass sat Scorpius Draco Malfoy in plain view, with Lily Potter planted firmly in his lap, alternating kisses with the strawberries he fed her.
“HA! Now he’ll see how it feels!” a vindicated father crowed.
“Gin?” Hermione stuttered, chagrined at Scorp’s bold behavior.
“Don’t say it — I know. This summer will be murderous. I’ll floo Minerva in the morning. I expect you to keep your sister in line, James, as you and Lyra have been through this before. Keep the snogging and shagging in your flat — no midnight adventures like last week.”
Both newlyweds flushed with color and nodded in agreement. Ginny “stumbled” upon them having a go on the kitchen table late one night.
“You’re okay with this Draco?”
Nerves over a second Potter-Malfoy mating had Hermione worrying her bottom lip.
“Not my daughter sucking someone’s face, is it?”
Payback, Draco thought, is a loving, caring Slytherin bitch.
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In Fond Remembrance