Written for Quidditch League Forum

Team: Kenmare Kestrels

Position: Beater 1 (substitute)

Headcanon: (Cannons, Beater 1, MissWitchx) When Draco goes looking for redemption, Hermione is the first one he reaches out to, as he feels like he owes her the biggest apology. (Because of this, Hermione persuades Ron to be accepting of Rose/Scorpius and try to be civil to Draco)

I interpreted the prompt with more of a focus on Draco apologizing to Hermione because of the influence of his son dating their daughter, I felt that focusing on Hermione/Ron wouldn't have given as much impact on why Draco decided to face his regrets.

Malfoys' didn't stalk.

But Draco was.

Malfoys' didn't apologize.

But Draco was planning on it.

Malfoys' didn't regret their actions.

Oh, but Draco did.

...

Draco stuck his hands in his coat pockets and peered down one of the long, bustling hallways of the recently developed Ministry of Magic. He reflected on his thoughts with a hint of bitterness. After the war, there had been an era of many things for many, many different people. For the warriors, it had been relief and joy. For the young people, it had been love and new beginnings. For the newly born, it had been merely history.

For him, it was relief, love, and regret.

Relief to have survived.

Love to have found his wife.

Regret for the scarred mark on his forearm.

Determination had risen somewhere inside of him after his son was born. After taking his son in his arms — small, defenseless and innocent, a reflection of his own past — he wondered and decided not to be his father. Not to be someone who would act cowardly in front of his family or force his son to throw away his childhood for a path of misguided faith.

Draco made a decision that he would be a better person. The only person he told was Daphne — sweet, sweet Daphne — whose hazel eyes sparkled at him with pride and he felt like he could do it.

What did it involve?

It meant being there.

When Scorpius was old enough to walk, when he cried, when he had terrible nightmares in the dark. Draco couldn't remember if his father was ever there and that was enough to encourage him to guide his son with his first steps. To hold him until he stopped crying. To sit by his bed until he fell into peaceful and calm sleep.

It didn't take long for Draco to realize that he didn't need the reminders of the absence of his childhood to do anything.

...

Then she came along and his son was smitten.

Rose Weasley with bushy red hair, freckles, and a wide smile.

Long ago, they had reached cordial terms with most of the Potters-Weasleys — but never more than the distant frigidity that was common with two families that spent most of their childhood hexing each other before resorting to trying to kill each other.

But it reminded Draco of regret, resentment, and the evil that had him believing he was higher than everyone else. Only to find he was the lowest.

His son didn't have that.

Rose Weasley didn't have that.

All they had was history.

Scorpius had pleaded with him and stated with determination that he didn't care what his father thought, he was going to do what he wanted.

How different father and son were.

How different son wanted to be from his father.

...

If it was for his son — his family — being there in the dark, throwing every last bit of regret he had, if it meant finally focusing on being different than his father ever was —

When he noticed the bushy-hair bouncing and high-heels clipping on the polished floor, Draco took one deep breath and pushed himself off the wall and into the direct path of the woman that he had bullied as a young child. Her brown eyes widened and she stopped just short of running into him, inhaling sharply. "Malfoy?"

"Granger." Draco darted his gaze down to her filled, no, stuffed cloth bag — his lips twitched; some things never changed — and looked back into her eyes before averting his gaze again. He wasn't good at this.

Granger asked crisply, "What do you need, Malfoy?" She was watching him through narrowed eyes like he might jump her or something.

He almost rolled his eyes. What would he do with all these people watching? With these people wa— He cleared his throat. "May I talk to you..." Draco gestured further away from the corner hallway where he had been waiting, "...over there?"

"Why?" she asked warily.

Draco sighed. "Because... I'd rather people not hear this. It's personal." He stressed the last word lightly.

Granger's eyes lighted up in interest. "Hmm..." She followed him, albeit reluctantly, and watched him carefully. Draco tugged on his coat nervously; honestly, he wasn't going to attack her.

"This is about Scorpius..." he started but was quickly interrupted by her.

"We already know. Ron doesn't like it, but I actually like Scorpius. He is nothing like you. Honestly, he is such a sweetheart. Everyone else has already accepted him in the family and if you are giving your son a hard time because of who he cares for —" Granger's eyes were burning with the familiar flame that was usually followed by a bloody right hook and Draco almost took a step back.

"How he came from your family, I have no idea."

Draco sputtered. She had jus-

"Albus was his best friend, I mean, why are you getting worked up over this now?"

He was not getting worked up. She was the one ranting like a mad-woman.

"Is it my daughter?" Granger scowled. "How dare —"

He hadn't even said anything.

"Look..." he tried.

"Sometimes I wonder if Scorpius will turn around and adopt the Malfoy gene of evil. I'm just waiting for it. Your son had better not break my daughter's heart because I will stop defending their relationship to Ron and —"

"Would you shut up one bloody moment?" Draco hissed through gritted teeth, "Can't someone apologize without the insults?"

She blinked.

"Wait. What?"

Draco swallowed and stared up at the ceiling in exasperation and tried to ignore his nerves. He wasn't supposed to lose his temper and he certainly hadn't planned for it to go like this. "For everything."

Granger had finally shut her mouth and was watching him silently.

Where was the list he had planned? Oh, right. He took out a crumbled piece of paper from his pockets and started to read it out loud.

"I'm sorry..."

He faltered, but then he remembered that he was doing this for a new beginning for his son and a future of no regrets. Man, was he tired of feeling regret all the time.

"For calling you a...mudblood."

Silence.

"For bullying you."

...

"For making fun of you and your...heritage."

...

"For everything."

Granger interrupted, "Why?" She wasn't frowning, but she wasn't looking very happy either. Draco could feel his throat close up and he crumbled the paper in his palm.

Why...

Why...

"Because... I'm not my father," Draco replied firmly.

He was going to be a better father.

Granger smiled at him and replied, "I'll talk to Ron."

Her eyes were shining and Draco could feel several years of regret and resentment fall off his shoulders. "I'm different than Lucius." He could taste the bitterness as his father's name fell from his tongue.

Draco uttered the words he had thought to himself for years while holding his son's hand, watching him board the train to school, and watching him come home with a Weasley girlfriend.

"I'm going to do what he never did for me."