14 YEARS AGO

The important thing was to be calm, to take deep soothing breaths because surely, surely, I wouldn't be in this stupid drawing room for much longer? Someone would realise that I had gone missing, someone would come to find me and get me out of here. It was just a matter of time before I was out of this room.

Oh, who was I kidding? If Draco had put me in here on purpose – which he no doubt had as his version of some sick joke – then there was no way I was getting out of here until he let me out. It was the realisation that I was actually trapped in here that made my palms begin to sweat, heart pumping suddenly at double rate. Good Merlin, he should have known I couldn't stand these sorts of jokes, the ones that had me stuck somewhere I couldn't get out of so why, why –

I took in a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself even as the room seemed to grow smaller and smaller, the walls coming in towards me and forcing my breath to leave me as quivering pants. Merlin, I didn't want to cry but I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes no matter how determined I was to blink them away. I was not going to cry over something like this – I was eleven! Not some baby who cried over everything.

I was too old to be crying so why on earth did I find myself doing nothing more than falling to the floor with my knees to my chest. Head bowed slightly, I sniffled as I silently cursed the restricted age on magic. The only reason I was unable to leave this room was because of the magic embedded into the very walls of the Manor and that was the problem with ancestral magic; Draco's blood alone meant that he could control when this door opened and when it closed.

It just wasn't fair! All I'd wanted to do was to play with the boys, but did that mean that they could just –

The door unlocked with a clear sound and I found myself blubbering then like I really was a baby. It wasn't because I was scared, because I wasn't scared anymore – all I needed to do was walk through those doors and I would be out of this godforsaken room. But I suddenly couldn't stop myself from crying because the single sound had filled me with such relief that it was enough to force away the uncomfortable pressure that had settled on my chest.

Sniffling slightly, I rose to my feet and looked to the open doorway just to see through tear filled eyes that there was a boy standing in the doorway, looking more than a little thrown by the state he'd found me in. Bloody idiot; what did he expect? That him locking me in here wouldn't upset me? But then again, I wouldn't be surprised if that really was what he'd thought; Draco had always been an idiot.

Not that it mattered now; he'd come back. That was all that matter. Crossing the room with quick steps, I threw my arms around him and hugged him close, so completely thankful that I didn't have to spend a minute longer in that room.

"Draco," the boy I was hugging called out, making me stiffen slightly. I drew back far enough to realise that I was hugging the Nott boy – the only one out of the three of them who had never actively tormented me – and that was enough to have me hugging him again.

Theodore remained tense, patting my back a little awkwardly as I sniffled to stop the last of my tears from falling. He looked over his shoulder towards Draco who was stood beside Zabini and I let myself do the same, meeting his narrowed grey eyes head on and scowling at him. Draco for his part looked mad in that way boys did whenever something hadn't gone the way he wanted it to. He wasn't mad at me, that was a completely different expression on his face, but I couldn't bring myself to care about who or what had made him mad.

Instead, I just turned my attention away from him. Drawing back from Theodore, I met his waiting eyes and somehow managed to find the stability to send him a watery smile.

"Thanks for getting me out," I said quietly, knowing it would annoy Draco.

And sure enough, the fair-haired boy was stalking towards me to take my hand in his. Yanking me away from Theodore, Draco glared at the other boy as if he wasn't one of his dearest friends. When he shifted his glare to me, I did nothing more than pull my hand away from him.

"He's not the one that let you out! He can't let you out anyway – it was my blood magic that –"

"I don't care," I said quietly, coldly and it agitated Draco so much that I was surprised he didn't actually stomp his foot in annoyance.

"You were actually crying," he stated harshly, and I had long since learnt that he behaved like this whenever I reacted in a way he couldn't understand, in a way he hadn't thought I would. "What are you? A baby?"

"Shut up!" I spat, rubbing my hands harshly across my cheeks to remove the final traces of the tears from my face. Stomping on his foot, I scowled at him when he cried out in pain, "I hate you!"

Brushing past him without so much as another glance his way, I walked away from the three silent Slytherins with my head held high. I wasn't a baby anymore, they were just stupid, mean boys who I was never going to play with again. In fact, I'd go to mum now and tell her that we needed to go home. Yes, that's what I'd do.

Just as I turned the corner, I heard Zabini pipe up dryly, "I told you she'd be mad, Draco."

Mad was an understatement. Dismissing the thought with a quick shake of my head, I walked quickly through the Manor until I found the room where all our parents were talking and from the way they were rising to their feet, I had appeared just in time. Father was already standing there with my coat in his hands and he frowned, clearly noticing my red eyes.

"I think there's dust somewhere," I lied as I got to his side. "My hay fever is acting up."

"Let's get you home then," Father said as he held my coat open for me to put my arms in the sleeves.

For a moment I wondered whether I'd actually manage to leave this Manor without running into those horrendous boys again, but Draco Malfoy had an atrocious habit of doing what you didn't want him to do. Mother and father, a little concerned about my 'hay fever' were ushering me quickly towards the fireplace when the Malfoy heir sprung out of nowhere, asking my father for a minute to say goodbye. With a good-natured laugh, father left my side and it took all my effort not to stomp off after him.

"Don't," Draco said quickly, reaching out to take my hand like he knew what I was thinking. "I need to talk to you."

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Would you listen to me?"

"No."

"You're so –"

"I'm not listening to you –"

"– stubborn –"

"– that's rich coming from you!"

"I'm sorry!" His sudden exclamation had the words dying on the tip of my tongue. I was sure my face was quite the sight; it felt like my eyes were bugging out of my head. I had never thought I'd hear him say those words. Merlin, I didn't think he knew what those words meant! "What? Nothing else to say."

I shook my head, murmuring a quiet, "No."

He sighed. "So, you forgive me then?"

"I guess," I shrugged, pulling myself away from him when I heard my mother call for me. "I need to go."

"But you'll come back next week? Right?" he asked suddenly, seeming more insistent. "I'll see you again before you have to travel to France?"

"I – do you want to?"

"Yes," he said resolute and I nodded slowly, not used to this Draco – the Draco who apparently knew what it was like to apologise.

"I'll talk to my parents."

17 YEARS LATER

It had been months since I had managed to sleep so well, let alone managing to dream in peace without waking up to the shrill sounds of Scorpius's crying ringing through our home. Although, was it really dreaming if it was of a memory? Whatever it was, it had brought me some much-needed rest.

With a yawn, I turned slightly towards Draco to shake him awake, so he didn't spend the entire day asleep. But, as I rolled to face him, I found out exactly why I hadn't woken up through the night. There, sleeping soundly curled up on his father's chest was our 9-month-old son. Clearly, Draco had tended to Scorpius at some point in the night, without seeing to wake me up and I smiled a little at the thought of it. Reaching out to brush a thumb across the swell of Scorpius' cheek, I let my smile widen when he opened his eyes to show me that beautiful grey colour that had made me fall for his father in the first place. Merlin, he really was his father's son.

"What are you thinking about?" the question was slow, barely more than a whisper and spoken in a voice thick with sleep.

Scorpius shifted on his father's chest until he rolled off of him and crawled towards me. As my son curled up to my chest, I looked towards my husband with a smile, "Just that he takes after you. Practically a carbon copy, according to your mother."

"What can I say?" Draco began with a yawn, reaching out to run his hand through my hair. "Malfoy genes are strong."

"Let's hope he doesn't become as spoilt as you were."

"As if you can talk." He scoffed with a laugh, grinning sleepily at Scorpius when he began to 'speak' to his father. "You were just as spoilt as I was."

"You were much worse!"

"As if!"

"Do you want me to ask your mother? She'll prove you wrong in a heartbeat."

"Let's just be real here," Draco said shifted to face me. "Even if we try not to spoil Scorpius –"

"Which we'll fail at."

"Without a doubt," he agreed instantly with a roll of his eyes. "But our parents will spoil him much more than we ever could."

"We'll have to curb his ego," I murmured quietly, looking down at Scorpius when he started to squish my cheeks together. Through squished cheeks, I looked towards Draco, "We can't have him getting the Malfoy ego from you too. Goodness knows how I'd deal with two of you around the house."

"Malfoy ego," he started incredulously, only to falter when I arched an eyebrow. "You've got a point there."

"Of course I have."