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Being a Granger-Malfoy was a combination that usually served Scorpius quite well.
It’s what had given him his potent combinations of reckless ambition, cunning bravery, and a double-serving of determination, after all. And while he did have a mischievous streak, when he put the combined heft of traits into practice, it was only for the sake of betterment.
His own, specifically.
It was how he’d managed to secure a pre-graduation internship with Uncle Theo in the Unspeakable Department, something that his less intelligent classmates had called favoritism on the part of his mother (as if they wouldn’t have done the very same thing had their mum been the Minister of Magic), but which he knew was simply because he was an outstanding student and somewhat of an opportunist.
But when the traits of his parents were used for…well, evil was a bit much, but not good, exactly…
Honestly, what happened was purely his Uncle Theo’s fault. Who lets an impressionable young man into the Time Room, surrounding him with glittering temptations in the form of adorable little gold-encased hourglasses?
Although if blame was to be passed around, it was certainly Uncle George’s fault a little bit, too, for teaching Scorpius all that sleight of hand.
And undeniably, Uncle — Professor, whatever — Neville, was hugely culpable for assigning such a boring essay on the biological imperative of carnivorous plants, something that Scorpius had thought sounded interesting but then had absolutely bombed the subsequent exam on due to how tedious it had turned out to be. He loved Uncle Neville but sometimes was seriously concerned with what that man found engaging.
In any case, his actions were undeniably the direct product of both his upbringing and his environment, and so when he slipped the tiny Time Turner into his pocket during his Saturday morning internship at the Ministry, he didn’t feel an ounce of personal guilt. The end (in this case, him not failing that Herbology exam) would absolutely justify the means.
He waited until he was back at school that afternoon before he examined his loot. The Time Turner was even more gorgeous up close, the metalwork dainty and the tiny little hourglass encased inside so cute that Scorpius couldn’t help but fawn over it, just a little bit. He loved tiny things. Especially when they housed secrets or immense power.
All his dormmates were elsewhere and so he didn’t think twice before looping the fine gold chain around his neck and setting the device to go back twenty hours — just long enough for him to sit the exam again and absolutely smash it this time. He felt the metal gradually warm and a moment later, the hourglass began turning then spinning then whizzing.
Going back in time was oddly relaxing, he thought, staring down at the revolving hourglass. He could feel the world flowing around him in backward-acting blurs of movement. It reminded him of standing in the shallow creek behind his home, letting the cool water rush around his bare ankles. He liked the ghosting touch of it; liked feeling immovable against it.
It took longer than he thought it should have to bring him back less than a full day, but finally the glide of life around him ebbed and then drew to a stop. He looked up, checking that he was still alone in the dorm, and then frowned.
He was alone, but he wasn’t in his dorm anymore.
Well, he was — he was definitely still in the Slytherin boys dormitory — but it wasn’t his. The trunks were wrong and when he stepped to the right to get a better look at his bed, he saw that his collection of miniature creature figurines on his bedside table was gone, replaced by a stack of books and a pair of glasses which looked quite similar to the sort Uncle Theo wore for reading.
He looked down at the Time Turner, confused. He’d set it to twenty, that much he could see, but the unit was…oh. He blinked down at the tiny etched word: years.
“Whoops,” he muttered to himself. That was slightly inconvenient.
“Who’s there?” The sound of curtains being pulled back had his head jerking up, looking two beds over to the furthest one where he was met with the most unexpected sight of his life (and, as a Granger-Malfoy, that was sort of saying a lot).
He blinked but, yep, that was definitely his dad.
His dad, who was sliding to sit at the edge of what two minutes ago had been David Fawley's bed, dressed in a Slytherin uniform and frowning at Scorpius in a way that was both strikingly familiar (confusion, concern, and the preparation to be irritated all mixed together into his signature Dad Look) and disconcertingly different, the topography of his dad’s face not yet optimized to make the expression as effective as Scorpius usually found it.
Scorpius quickly did the maths. If he’d really managed to go back twenty years then…this really was his dad, at eighteen.
He considered how to play it. His dad was annoyingly good at telling when Scorpius was lying, but this version of his dad had never met him. Hadn’t yet raised him. So perhaps he wouldn't know all of Scorpius's tells.
But did familiarity matter? Or were the raw skills already there, the selected combatant immaterial against his dad’s long exposure to, and therefore bloodhound’s nose for, bullshit?
Scorpius’s curiosity won out, as did his desire to skip to the fun bits, namely wandering around his school as it had been twenty years ago and not wasting time spinning a web of lies to someone who was adept at sweeping them right down.
“Hi,” he said, raising a hand in greeting. “My name is Scorpius. I’m your son.”
He had to give his dad credit, his ability to not visibly react to shocking news was exemplary.
Draco blinked, eyes narrowing slightly and then flitting over Scorpius features. Scorpius had taken after the Malfoy line more than the Granger, his hair and eyes and stature a dead match for his dad’s (though he’d been lucky to scrape a few extra melanin genes from his mum). He smiled politely, awaiting the verdict.
“But you’re…” Draco tilted his head. “My age.”
“Ah, right.” Scorpius took a few steps closer, pulling up the Time Turner so it dangled prettily in the air between them. “Turns out these are trickier to calibrate than I thought.”
Draco stared at the glittering magical object, brows nearly touching with the intensity of his puzzlement, and then he flicked his gaze back up to Scorpius. He gave him a final assessing look and then lifted his chin slightly.
“Okay. So what are you doing here?”
Scorpius raised his brows, surprised. “Wait, that’s it? That’s your entire reaction to meeting your son?”
Draco crossed his arms, raising his brows right back. “What, did you expect me to shout at you for breaking the time continuum? I don’t feel I have the authority yet but I’m sure I could make do even so.”
Scorpius snorted. “No. To be honest, I half expected a hug but…now that I say that, I’m pretty sure mum was the one who taught you about them so…yeah, this is making sense actually.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I know what a hug is.” But then he looked apprehensive. “But wait, who’s your mother? Please tell me it’s not…well, maybe I shouldn’t say. In case it is.”
Scorpius considered withholding the information for the sport of it, and perhaps to use as a bargaining chip to get his dad to comply with a yet-unthought-of whim, but once again, his curiosity won out.
“My mum’s called Hermione.” Scorpius knew that his parents had met at Hogwarts and suspected there weren’t many girls with such a unique name. Given the way his dad’s eyes flared with surprise, he judged himself correct.
“Hermione?” Draco blanched but Scorpius didn’t miss the flicker of hope on his face. “Not Hermione Granger, surely.”
Scorpius clicked his fingers, pointing his index at Draco. “That’s the one.”
Draco looked instantly annoyed. It was such a familiar expression that Scorpius couldn’t help but grin. “Ugh, don’t do that. God, you’re like a blonde Theo.”
“Ha.” Scorpius smirked. “He’ll be pleased to hear it.”
Draco suddenly looked profoundly unsure. “You know him? I mean…he’s okay? In the future?”
Scorpius frowned, puzzled by his dad’s cautiously hopeful expression. “Yeah, he’s fine…?”
Draco inhaled, looking relieved. “Good. That’s…” He nodded to himself, then inspected Scorpius again. “So when are you from? The year, I mean?”
“2019.” Scorpius tucked the Time Turner down the front of his jumper for safe-keeping.
Draco watched him, thoughtful, and then his expression turned suspicious again. “How old are you? When were you born?”
“I’m seventeen. I was born on the twenty-first of November, 2001.”
His dad stared.
Blinked.
“But…it’s 1999.”
Scorpius nodded, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I know. I accidentally came back twenty years instead of twenty hours.”
Draco shook his head, like Scorpius wasn’t understanding. “Today is the tenth of February, 1999. You’re telling me that in…just under three years, I have a child? With Hermione Granger?” He hissed the last in a barely audible whisper, even though they were alone.
“Well, a baby takes a bit of time to brew so I think you need to minus about 10 months from that. But otherwise, yep.”
“Merlinfuck.” His dad dropped down to the edge of the bed behind him. “I…but…how?”
Scorpius scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, no. I try not to think about that aspect of your relationship, thanks.”
Draco shook his head, looking dazed. “No, no…I…know that part. But…you’re not a bastard, are you?”
Scorpius smirked. “Damn, you’re sort of an arsehole. I like it.”
“I mean, Grang—your mother…she and I…we’re married?”
“Yeah. And pretty happily, by the way.” Scorpius leaned in conspiratorially. “I have two little sisters to show for it.”
His dad, Merlin bless him, blushed.
It was possible that Scorpius was having entirely too much fun teasing this younger, less confident version of his father. Having only really known the warm, commanding, steady presence of his father as he became, it was a wonder to see him so…unfinished.
“So I take it you and mum aren’t friends?” he asked.
Draco laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “No. We’re not friends.”
“Ah.” Scorpius nodded understandingly. “But you’d like to be.”
“I don’t want to be friends with Granger.”
“Sorry, of course. You want to marry her.”
His dad scoffed. “I don’t even know her. Why would I want to marry her?”
Scorpius leveled him with a look. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m from the future? So I know things. I’ve heard the—abridged, I’m sure—story of how you two fell in love. So, I know you like her.” He raised his brows meaningfully. “Currently.”
Draco sniffed imperiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Scorpius laughed. “Okay.”
“In fact, I don’t even know that I believe you’re from the future,” Draco added, expression going shrewd. “You look like me, but then again the Malfoy genes are strong. Even marrying into the Bulstrode line couldn’t soften these cheekbones. You could be a cousin…except…” Draco inhaled slowly, eyes centered on Scorpius’ face. “Except you have her nose.”
God, his dad was such a sap.
“Yeah, you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Scorpius mumbled.
Draco flicked his eyes up, narrowing them.
It was strange to be inspected by this version of his dad, one who didn’t already know his tells; one who didn’t know him. But Scorpius knew Draco’s; he’d modeled some of his own after him, after all. So he knew right away that his dad believed him. It was…strangely relieving.
“Fine. You’re my future son.” Draco heaved a sigh. “You’re welcome for the good-looks.”
Truth be told, Scorpius was quite grateful for them, but as he turned the lens of appraisal toward his dad, he had to admit there was something off about him. He looked deflated, somehow. Cheeks a little hollow, under-eyes a little bruised-looking, hair an absolute unkempt mess and longer than Scorpius had ever seen it, almost wavy where it brushed his cheekbones.
“Thanks, but I’ve gotta say…” Scorpius steepled his fingers and pressed the apex of it to his mouth, examining his eighteen-year-old father. He firmed his lips then rotated his fingers to point towards Draco. “You don’t look great.”
Draco made a sound which might’ve been scoff. “I’m going to take that to mean I age gorgeously.”
Scorpius inclined his head. “You’ve given me a lot to look forward to in my own middle age, I’ll give you that. But I mean, from the photographs of when you and mum first got together, you didn’t look like this. All, mopey and defeated and shit. When I go back to my present day, I’m going to have a sit down with mum and get the full, honest story of how in Salazar’s saggy ballsack you managed to woo her because this—” He gestured with an open hand at his dad’s general person, “—is not inspiring much confidence.”
Draco’s expression darkened and Scorpius could see right away he’d accidentally touched a nerve.
“Fuck off!” he snarled. “I’ve had a monumentally shitty last few years and I don’t—” He cut himself off, heaving in a breath and then scrubbed his face with his hands. “Sorry. God...sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. Fuck, I…I don’t know how to be a dad.”
Scorpius shrugged. He knew all about his dad’s history and could understand the flash-temper over it. “Don’t worry, you figure it out.”
“Do I?” The words were mumbled from behind his hand.
“Yep. You’re a great dad. Now, come on. Assuming I didn’t completely muck it up, I should only have another hour or so left until I get whisked back to the present day and I’d love to do something more exciting than mope in the dorm with you.”
Draco dropped his hands, dangling them between his knees as he stared at the floor. Scorpius was just about to give up and go wander the castle without him when he sucked in a rousing inhale and lifted his head. His eyes were focused, calculating.
There he is, thought Scorpius fondly. Hi, dad.
“She loves me?” Draco said. “Eventually, I mean?”
Scorpius considered how much to divulge. Based on the way his mum told the story, her crush on Draco had slowly blossomed during their eighth year and at this point – nearing Valentine’s Day – she was secretly hopeful for some sort of sign that the feelings might be mutual. His dad always gave her a look whenever she told that story, a look that made Scorpius vaguely nauseated and made his sisters rather giggly.
“Eventually,” Scorpius agreed.
“Eventually.” His dad breathed the word in like it was a panacea. “She loves me eventually. Merlin.”
Scorpius let his dad marinate with it for a second, half touched by the sight of his dad already so besotted with his mum, and half grossed out by it. He was about to open his mouth to move things along when his dad sat up, shoulders back and chin level. Action mode.
“Well, it’s obviously because of this, isn’t it?” he said, gesturing to Scorpius. “You came back and gave me hope, and soon you’ll give me plenty of information to help me win her, and then I will.”
“I know mum’s the smart one, but surely you know enough about Time to understand the invalidity of that line of thinking.” Scorpius compressed his smile at the look his dad gave him at the slight. “What I mean is, I can’t have been the cause for you and mum getting together because I didn’t exist yet, right? I can come back but I can’t go forward from not-existing, so somehow you managed it all on your own.”
“No one truly understands Time,” Draco rebutted. “It could work exactly how I said. In fact, it is, because here you are, already giving me hope." He eyed Scorpius again. "Judging by the fact that you found me here, in the Slytherin dormitory, I’m going to assume you followed the Malfoy family legacy?”
Scorpius rolled his eyes and flicked the Slytherin crest on his jumper. “The uniform should be a dead giveaway, too.”
Draco ignored the sass, focused on the greater prize. “Right. So, come on then. Lean into our shared House traits and give me information that I can use.”
Scorpius sighed. Stubbornness was something both his parents had in common. “Fine.”
“Excellent.” Draco leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers interlacing, readying himself for some insider information.
Scorpius leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms and ankles, readying himself for another demonstration of his dad to be an absolutely embarrassing, lovesick monster. He sighed and began.
“Mum doesn’t like cut flowers or jewelry, so if you’re considering going the traditional Pureblood courting route, don’t; she prefers acts to things. That said, a book from her endless wishlist is usually a good idea – I can probably remember a few that she doesn’t have if I try, although given that it’s twenty years in the past, she actually probably doesn’t have most of them so…” He refocused. “Uhh, let’s see. She likes her food a certain way, so if you brought her coffee with a splash of milk – a splash, mind, just until it’s sort of a russet color? – or tea with exactly one-and-a-half teaspoons of sugar -- oh, or a Cauldron Cake you've just barely warmed up, then she’d be pretty happy.”
Draco waved his hand in an impatient go on gesture. “I know all of that. Tell me something I couldn’t learn just by observation.”
While it was refreshing to see his dad was no longer continuing the charade with him, it was also a little sickening. Was Scorpius inadvertently assisting a stalker...? But no, his mum had been effusive with the stories of her crush, so if he was aiding a creep, at least it was for his mum's eventual happiness, and his own necessary creation.
He resisted the urge to screw up his nose and considered what other tips he could provide.
“Well, she appreciates being listened to but she also likes listening – stories about your day, something you learned or something interesting you heard, that sort of thing. She could sit and listen to you talk about literally the most boring shit for hours. So, just find a topic that you can talk about and just go for it.” He sucked his canine speculatively. “Yeah, honestly that’s probably your best shot. Just go talk to her.”
A muscle in his dad’s jaw flexed, expression distinctly terrified. He swallowed, nodding absently to himself.
“Just go talk to her…right. Easy as that.” He laughed, though the sound was hollow and humorless. “Salazar. I need a drink. Winky!”
With a soft pop, a house-elf appeared. “You is needing Winky?” she asked, voice squeaky.
“Could you bring me some pumpkin juice, please?” Draco asked, then glanced up to Scorpius. “Want anything?”
The elf turned, inspecting Scorpius with a curious expression. He shook his head. “No, thank you.”
She nodded and Disapparated with another soft pop. Scorpius tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly at Draco. “If only mum was here to witness that. You’d be in biiiig trouble.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “She’s not still up in arms over house-elves, is she? Winky is free, she’s here willingly – and quite happily, might I add.”
Winky popped back in before Scorpius could respond, a glass of pumpkin juice and a small apple pastry in her hands. She offered them to Draco, who took them with a genuine smile.
“Thank you, Winky. You’re the best.”
She blushed and popped away.
“Flirt,” Scorpius teased. “But see? Just use some of that Malfoy charm on mum and she’ll be falling all over you.”
Draco scoffed, then gulped down half his juice. “Not sure she likes my Malfoy charm,” he said dryly. He fiddled with the pastry for a minute and Scorpius sensed a looming, unasked question.
“Just ask,” he said. “If I know, I’ll tell you.”
His dad hesitated for the barest second and then looked up. “What do my parents think about all this? Do I…are they still in the picture?”
“What do they think about you and mum being married?” Draco nodded, raising his glass for another sip, and Scorpius shrugged. “They’re fine with it. They come round for dinner every month and when we go to theirs, Nana always–”
Draco choked on his juice. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes cutting up to Scorpius’s. “I’m sorry – did you just insinuate that my mother goes by Nana?”
Scorpius nodded. “Yeah. Apparently she wanted us to call her Narcissa but it’s a bit of a mouthful for someone just learning how to talk, so mum suggested we shorten it to Nana. It’s stuck through three grandkids so far.”
Draco’s brows flicked up. “Granger tricked my mother into being called Nana?” His expression shifted from wonderment to amusement, and he barked a laugh. “Merlin. She’s…” He sighed and looked down into his juice. “Incredible,” he mumbled.
Jesus, Scorpius thought.
He sighed gustily. “Can you stop yearning and finish your little snack, please? I want to go do something.”
“So go do it.” Draco took a bite of the pastry. “Have fun.”
He almost did, but a nagging feeling kept him where he was. “Will you talk to mum?” he asked. “Or do I need to hold your hand?”
Draco paused mid-chew, staring at him. “Why would holding my hand help?” he asked, the words muffled around the pasty.
“It’s an expression?” Scorpius said, incredulous, then widened his eyes when his dad gave him a blank look. “Oh my god, I didn’t think it was possible for you to be even more out of touch than you are – than you become, I mean – but, wow. Have you consumed even a single piece of Muggle media yet?”
The hollows of Draco’s cheeks flushed a damning rose and Scorpius chuckled.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you to Granddad, if that’s what the guilty look is for. He’s a bit of a Muggle film connoisseur now anyway.”
“Not these films, I hope,” Draco muttered, dusting off his fingers and then standing.
Scorpius squeaked, revolted by the implication of his grandfather – and his father – watching anything remotely salacious. “Ew. Please, for the love of Merlin, don’t forget that you’re my dad. Ick, I need to scrub that image from my brain.”
Draco looked pleased at finally having found something to squick Scorpius. “That’s enough to shock you? Merlin, you’d perish on the spot if you heard the thoughts I have about your mum then.”
“Oh my god! Don’t be weird!” Scorpius covered his ears. “What was in that apple pastry? Veritaserum?!”
Draco laughed, walking to the small mirror hung on the wall beside Scorpius and carding a hand through his hair. He primped for a moment, Scorpius observing him warily with hands still protectively over his delicate, innocent ears, and then turned to face him.
“Come on then,” Draco said. “You’re here and I intend to take every advantage afforded to me because of it.”
Scorpius lowered his hands tentatively. “Where are we going?”
Draco scoffed. “Where else? The library.”
●
The school corridors were the exact same as Scorpius knew them to be, down to the suits of armor and the paintings that hung on the walls. Which made sense, he supposed. The castle was hundreds of years old — how much would twenty years have altered it?
He walked the well-worn path to the library, following his dad through the heavy double doors and down the aisles. It seemed his dad knew exactly where to go, something Scorpius noted with a roll of his eyes.
They turned a corner and entered the Herbology section — rather on the nose, Universe, Scorpius thought with a fond snort of laughter — and then paused at the edge of the stack.
There she was. Mum.
She was sitting alone at a table, books and parchment covering almost the entire surface, her hair pulled up into a truly chaotic nest with her wand shoved through it like an errant twig. She looked so young, so dainty and so small, that Scorpius felt his heart swell three sizes. He was filled with an almost irresistible urge to stride over and hug her.
His cute little mum.
But…that would be incredibly weird and almost impossible to play off, so he restrained himself.
Beside him, his dad had gone ramrod-stiff. Scorpius wasn’t entirely sure he was even still breathing, and when he glanced over to assess what he was working with, saw that his dad had managed to look both constipated and lovestruck.
“Rein it in,” he advised under his breath. “And follow my lead.”
Draco’s attention flicked to him, raw fear flashing in his eyes before he tightened his jaw and nodded. Scorpius shot him a confident smirk and then stepped forward. He kept his pace casual, almost distracted, his attention on the shelves on the other side of the table from Hermione, hand raised as he searched for the book he wanted.
He spotted it a moment later, well-acquainted with the cover if not the contents.
“Here it is,” he said in a library-whisper, pulling the book down and holding it out to Draco, who’d trailed after him. “This is the one that goes into excellent detail on the multifaceted and extremely interesting ramifications of cultivating carnivorous plants.”
His dad stared at him, his expression conveying a very clear: what the fuck are you babbling about?
Scorpius smiled encouragingly at him.
A micro-frown flickered between Draco’s brows, and then he took the book and flipped it open.
“Oh?” he said, keeping his voice low but faking an interested tone. “Do they get into the argument that, as carnivorous plants are the closest thing to sentient that non-cerebral organisms can be, the concept of humans even deciding if they should be cultivated or not is already an unethical perspective?”
Or perhaps, not faking interest.
Scorpius cocked his head, distracted for a moment at trying to sort out exactly how nerdy both his parents appeared to be and what that meant for him, genetically, when he heard a gentle clearing of the throat behind him.
“Excuse me." His mum’s voice was crisp though appropriately hushed for the setting. “But if you’re going to talk, can you do it elsewhere? I’m trying to study.”
His surprise was genuine as he looked around to see Hermione eyeing them waspishly, her quill-hand poised over her parchment. He blinked then looked back at his dad, half expecting him to already be turning tail and scampering back down the aisle at the reprimand, so it was with a mix of surprise and pride that Scorpius watched him step forward.
“Apologies, Granger,” Draco murmured, library-quiet. “My cousin got a little over-excited.”
Her eyes flicked from Draco to Scorpius. He watched as his mum considered him, lingering on his hair before completing a thorough-if-brief canvass of his features. He wondered if she spotted her own nose on his face, or if it was just his dad who was the hyper-aware oddball.
“Cousin?” she asked, tone indicating she was already annoyed at herself for being curious.
“Hi,” Scorpius said, striding forward and offering her his hand. “I’m…Aries.” He thought it best to not to completely shake up the time continuum, if his dad was even remotely correct.
She took his hand, shaking it and raising a brow. “As in the god of war?” she said skeptically.
“Of courage,” he corrected, and flashed her a cheeky grin. Behind him, Draco sighed long-sufferingly.
“I think you’re wearing the wrong crest then,” she said, regaining her hand and eyeing his Slytherin jumper.
“It’s mine,” Draco cut in. “He’s just borrowing it. He spilled pumpkin juice all down his.”
Scorpius wanted to roll his eyes at his dad’s weak attempt to embarrass him but chuckled self-deprecatingly instead.
“Ah, that I did, that I did. But rest assured, if you’d been around at the time, I’d have happily donned a Gryffindor lion.”
He’d meant the comment mostly to goad his dad back and so it was with utter horror that he watched a light pink grace his mum’s cheeks.
“Oh,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m not sure it would have fit. Your shoulders are…quite broad.” She eyed them appreciatively.
Scorpius spluttered, but covered it with a cough into his fist. Never mind his dad implying he watched Muggle pornos, if his mum flirted with him, Scorpius was going to put himself fully in the grave.
“Not er…” He coughed again, trying to find his footing. “Not as nice as cousin Draco’s though.”
What was his life? Scorpius prayed the Time Turner would run out preemptively and pull him away from being the wingman for his own fucking father.
Hermione hummed a little sound of agreement but hadn’t looked away from him.
“Are you a Malfoy, as well? You have the look of one but there’s something rather nice about you, too.”
She was very intentionally not looking at Draco. He had a flash of doubt that maybe he'd gotten the timing wrong (again), and that his mum hadn't fallen for his dad yet but then the edge of her eye twitched, like she was resisting a glance, and he smiled.
Ah-ah, mum, he thought. Your choices matter, as you like to remind me, and you, you precious thing, are choosing to lure him in.
Fine, then. He was happy to be the mediator of sorts.
“Thanks. I get my good-looks from my mum,” Scorpius said, giving her a little wink, and then tilted his head toward his dad. “So you know Draco?”
Hermione leaned back, crossing her arms and sparing his dad a half-glance.
“We’re acquainted,” she said, eyes finding Scorpius’s again. “He’s a prat.”
Scorpius couldn’t help but laugh, and then again when he saw the flash of annoyance on Draco’s face when Scorpius looked over.
“Come on,” he cajoled. “Be honest with yourself. Is she wrong?”
Draco glared for another moment and then the edge of his mouth twitched up.
“No,” he said, and then he was chuckling. “No, Granger’s never wrong.”
Scorpius caught the flash of surprise on Hermione’s face before she tutted and rolled her eyes. “At least you’re becoming self-aware.”
“Slowly but surely,” Scorpius agreed, nodding sagely at Draco. He gave him an encouraging waggle of his brows, jerking his head subtly back toward Hermione, but before Draco could jump back in, Hermione spoke.
“So Aries,” she said. “What’re you doing at Hogwarts?”
He saw with dismay that she was looking at him with the sort of interest that usually culminated in him being snogged in a broom cupboard. He knew she was just using him to make Draco jealous but even so…could she not?
“Visiting cousin Draco,” he said, reaching to haul Draco closer with an arm over his shoulder.
She observed their physical contact with a contemplative expression and Scorpius surreptitiously tightened his arm around his dad, willing him to unclench and jump into the conversation. He must not have gotten physical affection often, if he was this bloody stiff over it.
“Been here before?” she asked mildly.
Scorpius faltered. He was great with weaving a story but to outright lie to his mum was a skill he'd never quite managed. “To Hogwarts? Oh. Nope, first time.”
“Hmm. You knew where that Herbology textbook was,” she said, voice lifting in the unasked question and head jerking toward the book Draco still clutched.
Scorpius played it off with his usual Granger-Malfoy bravado. “Oh, that? Yeah, I know how to use a library directory.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s my superpower.”
Hermione’s brows flicked up, intrigued, and he instantly regretted the oblique Muggle reference. She uncrossed her arms and sat forward, and then fully traumatized him by unsubtly crossing her leg at the knee, letting her skirt slide up an inch.
“Excuse us, Granger,” Draco said suddenly. “I need to show my cousin the Defense Against the Dark Arts section. It’s suddenly crucial that he be prepared for an attack.”
Scorpius allowed himself to be dragged down the aisle and then two stacks over, though he knew full-well that the DADA section was the other direction.
“That was covert,” Scorpius said pleasantly. “Completely smooth exit.”
“Shut up,” Draco muttered, looking around to ensure they were alone. He let go of Scorpius but stepped close, practically nose to nose. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” Scorpius frowned, nonplussed.
“The way you were talking to her.” Draco’s gaze was set, his expression daring Scorpius to deny it.
“How was I talking to her?” Scorpius asked. He’d been raised to respect people and couldn’t find anything wrong with what he’d said to Hermione.
His dad glared, like Scorpius was being glib. “Back off,” he hissed. “I mean it.”
Was his dad seriously going territorial over Scorpius speaking to his own damn mother? He barked a laugh.
“Oh my god, I’m literally her son! Stop being so fucking weird about this, dad.”
“Language!” Draco snapped.
Scorpius rolled his eyes. “So freaking weird.”
“I meant don’t call me dad. We’re in public – exercise some subtlety.”
“You’re the one getting all alpha-male over this,” Scorpius reminded him. “Which, by the way, is gross. Maybe you should ask mum about that, she’s practically written a whole dissertation about how your early and frequent exposure to toxic masculinity is why–”
Draco hissed through his teeth, cutting him off. “Stop! God, I know. I just get so-” He huffed a breath. “I get weird about her.”
“Yeah,” Scorpius said dryly. “Trust me, I fucking know. I’ve witnessed it my entire life.”
Draco stepped back and then turned, leaning against the bookcase beside Scorpius. “She’s just so…” He sighed. “I lose my head.”
They stood side by side for a moment, quiet in the hushed room. Below his jumper, Scorpius felt the Time Turner slowly warming, and realized that Time would soon be slipping away from him.
He tilted his head to the right, considering the man beside him.
Draco Malfoy became lots of things, he knew, but through all the personal growth and professional successes, one thing always stayed the same; one thing always came up in all the tales he’d heard from the various people who knew and loved his father best. Above all else, his dad was devoted. If something needed doing, he committed his whole being into seeing it done. There was no obstacle too large to be conquered and no task too small to be worth his whole focus.
It was inconceivable that this man would grow up to have any life other than the one Scorpius knew he made for himself. He’d find his way to Hermione, no matter what.
But...perhaps giving him a tiny shove in the right direction would be an act of kindness. It certainly wouldn't hurt and really, if nothing else, Scorpius was a generous spirit.
“Okay,” he said, and Draco tilted his head to look at him. “I really didn’t want to make this too easy for you, since I think the challenge is good for you, but…” He fixed his dad with a serious expression. “Talk to her about the ethical and moral ramifications of an entire department of the Ministry being dedicated to the regulation and control of magical beings. She always cites your conversation about that as when she realized she was falling in love with you.”
Draco stared, eyes piercing. “The regulation and control of beings?” he repeated. “But I don’t know anything about Ministry politics.”
Scorpius bumped his head meaningfully against the shelves behind them. “Then isn’t it a good thing you’re in a room dedicated to information, at an institution committed to learning.”
The Time Turner had begun to whir softly against his shirt. He rested a supportive hand on his dad’s shoulder, jostling him gently in the way he'd received countless times in the reverse.
“She loves you eventually,” Scorpius reminded him. “There’s no rush.”
The edges of the room began to blur, Time sweeping inward like the tide, ready to capture him and drag him back where he belonged.
His dad swallowed, eyes searching Scorpius’s. “You promise?”
“Oh my god.” Scorpius tapped his nose. “See? Hermione's nose. I promise you, she falls in love with you and you marry her and make three babies, although honestly I think you might be trying for a fourth which I don’t like thinking about and you are far too old for but am sort of hopeful it’ll mean a brother? I love my sisters but–ah, shit.” His dad had begun to go blurry, the solidness of his shoulder beginning to melt under Scorpius's hand. “You’ve got this! Just…fucking be cool, Jesus!”
They weren’t the parting words he’d have planned for, but ultimately he hoped they’d be the kick up the arse his dad needed. Honestly. It was a bit pathetic.
●
When time resettled, Scorpius found himself still standing in the library, so at least he hadn’t altered the future drastically enough that Hogwarts no longer existed. A quick glance confirmed that his dad had since matriculated and Scorpius was now alone.
The Time Turner hummed gently at the base of his sternum and when he tugged it up the neck of his jumper to have a look, it sparkled up at him like a cheeky co-conspirator. He tucked it back away then cast a quick mirror charm, steeling himself to have a different nose. When his same face peered back at him, he exhaled.
Brilliant. Well done, dad.
As it was Saturday evening, he legged it out of the library straight away. Back in his dorm, he breathed a second sigh of relief when he saw his precious collection of creature figurines were once again undisturbed. Half of the figurines had been gifted to him by his sisters, so while he hadn’t managed to retake his Herbology exam, he considered one bad grade an acceptable consolation to knowing he hadn’t accidentally erased his sisters.
In the end, it seemed the incident hadn’t affected much, at school at least, and so when classes and friends and homework reclaimed his every waking moment, he half forgot about his jaunt to the 90s.
It wasn't until he’d gone home the following Saturday for Lyra’s tenth birthday party that the ramifications of seeing his parents suddenly occurred to him. In fact, it wasn’t until his mum was wrapping him in a welcoming hug, her hair tickling his nose when he nuzzled down into her hold, that he realized she might remember cousin Aries.
But she didn’t make any comment, and when his dad greeted him with a similarly warm embrace sans chastisement, he let himself relax again.
He’d have to discreetly bring it up with Uncle Theo at his internship the following day (he’d packed the Time Turner in his bag, intent to replace it casually on the shelf from whence it had come) because if he could go back in time and interact with people who knew him in the current day without any sort of remembrance on their part, then Time was either more severely fucked up than previously theorized, or he was less memorable than he thought.
He wasn’t sure which was more distressing.
They were sitting in the lounge a little while later, having tea while Lyra’s birthday cake baked and the little girls played upstairs, when his mum perked up.
“Oh, I forgot to mention. I’ve invited the Potters over for Lyra's party tonight,” she told him cheerfully, “so you can practice some Transfiguration by helping Daddy spell a few extra chairs later.”
Scorpius felt his heart leap in his chest. The Potters meant Albus, and – oh god – Albus was so fit.
“Albus?” he blurted, and then quickly added, “Those Potters, I mean? Albus Potter and his family?”
His mum nodded, appearing unfazed by his bumbling, which was a relief. He’d done a rather admirable job concealing his insane crush on his mum’s best friend’s son but really, it wasn’t fair to both look how Albus did and be as nice as Albus was and be as clever in school and–
Beside him on the couch, his dad snorted. Scorpius looked over and found his dad looking at him, a brow raised and his signature smirk curling the edge of his lips.
"What?" Scorpius asked, brain working fast to sort out exactly how transparent his crush had been and if Albus - oh god - if Albus also knew about it.
“Don't worry, Scorp, you’ve got it,” his dad said, and for a moment Scorpius was both mildly embarrassed at the confirmation of having been sussed out and simultaneously touched that his dad believed in his ability to bag arguably the best boy in school.
But then the second brow joined the first and his dad's face took on an expression borrowed straight from Scorpius's own repertoire. “Just be fucking cool, Jesus.”
Scorpius froze.
His dad took a slow sip and then winked.
Scorpius gasped. “No,” he said, stricken. “Oh my god! You remember me?”
His dad grinned and his mum smiled, eyes sparkling jointly with mischief and affection; her own signature look.
“Oh darling,” she said. “How could we ever forget you?”