Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter or any characters created by JK Rowling...I am simply attempting to delve into their minds and determine what makes the older generations tick and how the lesser known characters became who they are.

"…Why, there isn't a wizard alive today that's not half blood or less." – Hagrid

"Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out." - Ron Weasley

"So-called pure-blood families maintain their alleged purity by disowning, banishing, or lying about Muggles or Muggle-borns on their family trees. Then they attempt to foist their hypocrisy upon the rest of us by asking us to ban works dealing with the truths they deny. There is not a witch or wizard in existence whose blood has not mingled with that of Muggles..." – Albus Dumbledore

The idea is that everything should be completely canon other than the Epilogue as that obviously can't be canon and none of the evil characters will suddenly become good, it will just explain how they became that way. If you notice that something isn't canon let me know as I don't want anything to be incorrect to the universe.

Draco sighed, his dragon hide boots clicking along the marble hallway of the Manor. It was Winter Holiday and despite the blistering winds outside, the cold stone of the building gave off a warmth that only his childhood home could. It was already a week into holiday and in no time at all Draco knew that he would be heading back to Hogwarts for his second attempt at 7th year.

He was currently working to complete his homework and get it out of the way. He'd been planning to spend much of the break with Blaise and Theo but homework took precedence. He'd finished almost everything yesterday and now all that seemed to remain was his project for Professor Binns that he knew was going to take longer than he cared for.

Write on the history of a member of your family that holds some importance to you. If that family member is a Wizard and you are able, interview their portrait. Write something about them that no one else knows. Learn about how things were when they went to school. It is to be a minimum of 3 yards in length.

He eyed the parchment with a groan and stuffed it back into his pocket as he headed down the hallway to the family tree. Most Pureblooded families had family trees of some sort. The Blacks had a tapestry that would weave a new face in an old aristocratic style, he was told. His mother had informed him that he was on it but he'd never seen it. The tapestry was in the house of the last male heir of the Black family, Sirius Black, and he was dead.

His family tree on the other hand, was just that, a tree. In one of the long corridors was a hallway that seemed to go skyward for miles. Draco had once tried to hit the ceiling on his broomstick to see how high it indeed went but was still unable to find the top before getting disoriented and reprimanded by relatives from hundreds of years ago. The magic of their family tree was in portraits. Each member of the family had a portrait commissioned of them when they turned of age or married in and was placed in their rightful place on the tree. The portraits were charmed to inhabit the essence of the person once they had passed and would then become like the portraits at Hogwarts, moving. Until then, the images were still. When a member of the family finally did pass on, they appeared the age at which they were most comfortable; which Draco found curious. What age would he appear when he finally died?

The most interesting thing was that if you wished to speak with someone high up on the tree (long since passed) you need to simply speak their name and the branches holding the portrait would move until the person you wished to speak with was at eye level.

Draco stared at the wall curiously; he had to be careful who he chose after all. He didn't want to choose someone with strong views against a particular group of people. He was attempting to regain honor to his family name and perhaps end some of the animosity with Potter and Weasley; though he wasn't wishing for anything overly friendly. Potter seemed to be all for letting bygones be bygones, the Weasel King on the other hand…

It hadn't been long ago that the second war had ended and the Light had come out victorious, and once the chaos had settled to a reasonable level the repair to Hogwarts had begun. Draco had been immensely surprised when he discovered that there had been a large lump sum of money set aside in the Malfoy vault for any restorations that Hogwarts would need, allocated by his Grandparents Abraxas and Myone Malfoy.

Once Draco's father had seen the funds disperse from his Gringotts account (without his consent) to repair the damage to the once illustrious school, his Mother and Father determined that they would be there to help with the restoration. Well, not really help per say, more to oversee; manual labor was what Mud…Muggleborns and poor wizards were for. It only proved more true to see the entire Weasley clan, Granger, and their precious Potter sweating and toiling about to get the school back in working order before the new school year.

Draco had even noticed himself getting over his more severe blood prejudices a bit as the restoration went on. It was never going to be completely gone, he wasn't as idealistic as the Gryffindors were to hope for something as ridiculous as that, though he did attempt to seek out Muggles every once in a while to talk to, if only to stop his autonomic response to cringe upon seeing them and hex them for being stupid and filthy creatures not worth his time.

He'd even noticed that his father had gotten a bit better; the man had even rushed to help Granger lift a retaining wall into place when she'd overestimated her strength. Draco had heard his father almost call her a Mudblood, but he'd restrained himself at the last minute with a "Mu…Hermie." He'd still called her by the wrong name but the fact that he hadn't hexed her or watched her be crushed had to be something.

Granger hadn't said anything, probably not wanting to exacerbate the problem. He commended her on that since it wasn't often that Granger held her tongue on anything.

So once Hogwarts had been repaired over the summer, they allowed all those who hadn't finished their last year to do such. It had ended up with everyone staying in the year they were in before Snape had become Headmaster as many of the professors that Voldemort had posted on staff were not worth their salt. So Draco and Blaise were still 7th years and the Loopy Lovegood girl was still a 6th year. The only thing that changed was the new incoming 1st years were combined with the incoming 1st years of last year to create a class double in size.

Finally reaching the Family Hall, Draco paused and looked at the portrait of himself, it had been commissioned not long after he had received his Dark Mark, and he couldn't help but cringe at the memory. He glanced up a bit and looked to see the portraits of his parents, both unmoving as well; something he found to be oddly comforting. When the war raged on he remembered coming to look at the portraits and thinking that all three would be animated behind their frames before anything could be resolved.

He glanced one level higher, he couldn't see those quite as well as his parents but he could still make them out quite easily without having the wall move. Above his mother's portrait were the names of her parents carved into the bark of one of the branches, they were Blacks and therefore not permanent members of this tree.

After eyeing their names, Draco moved to the portraits of his Father's parents who were moving, though not jarringly so. He already knew their names; Abraxas and Myone (Me-own-ee) Malfoy. He'd heard stories about how kind and compassionate they were…well, Myone more than Abraxas. Then again he'd also heard stories that they were best friends with the Dark Lord when they were in school so there was no telling for sure.

Maybe he could do his project on them for Binn's class. That would certainly be something. They could tell him about their lives and hopefully help get the Malfoy name out of the gutter a bit. It was their forethought that helped rebuild Hogwarts after all.

"Abraxas and Myone Malfoy," he stated loudly to get the trees' attention. At the call of the names the tree got to action, moving the branches that held the two down to Draco's eye level so that he could examine them closer.

As the portraits moved into view, Draco faltered. How does one start a conversation with dead grandparents…especially dead grandparents that he never bothered to introduce himself to before now?

"Um, my name is Draco Malfoy," Draco introduced, puffing out his chest proudly, "And I am your grandson."

"Of course we know who you are dear. Just because you never came to meet us specifically doesn't mean we aren't watching over you," his Grandmother said with a smile.

"At least it's you who's coming to see us now instead of Tom, put your Grandmother in a right state he did," his Grandfather added with a huff.

"Oh, Brax," she sputtered, "I am completely fine. Tom didn't scare me; more annoyed me, walking about the house as though it were his own." She glared off at nothing for a moment before muttering out, "Git."

Draco paused, eying the woman in the portrait curiously. It was the way she was talking, it was as though he recognized her voice and now that he was examining the portrait closer she looked familiar too. Where had he seen her before; he'd never actually met her before so it couldn't have been on purpose. Could she have been among the portraits at Hogwarts that he had accidentally come across?

He eyed her again, suddenly realizing why she looked so familiar; despite the grey streaking her hair, the crow's feet around her eyes, and the laugh lines near her mouth…she looked like Mudblood Granger…Muggleborn Granger.

Why was a Granger lookalike in his Grandmother's portrait?

"Who are you?" Draco suddenly hissed out angrily, the room seeming to go down in temperature at his anger.

"I'm sorry," she questioned out, her head cocking to the side a bit in confusion. Draco huffed angrily, it was definitely Granger…she must be on a bad Polyjuice or something. Why the hell did she think it was a good idea to force herself into his Grandmother's portrait? He wasn't even sure how that was possible, but she did read more books than him, she may have found a way.

Granger seemed to sense his anger and sighed audibly, "I guess I should explain shouldn't I?"

Draco said nothing, simply glared at her expectantly.

"Show some respect to your Grandmother boy." Draco was startled by the venom in his Grandfather's voice and moved his eyes to stare more closely at the man who fathered his father. Abraxas Malfoy was well respected in the wizarding community and Draco knew better than to anger him, even if he had been dead for decades. Though apparently he was now losing his marbles as well, did he not realize that his wife had been replaced by an imposter?

His eyes moved back to the woman who was looking more and more like an older Granger by the second.

"You are Granger aren't you…not my Grandmother," Draco responded, his arms crossing defensively, "I don't know how you got in my Grandmother's portrait but I suggest you remove yourself."

"Draco," Granger responded, tentatively, "Do you remember when you caught me with my time turner…this…this is your seventh year, correct?"

"Yeah, its seventh year, and I remember catching you in the head common room. It was a month ago, I think."

"Yes, that does sound about right," Granger agreed, "I was getting ready to head to Ancient Runes...I'd thought that you'd already gone to Herbology like always."

"Yeah, I'd been running late because Pansy had dragged me outside in the rain saying something about weird magic...it ended up being her telling me of her feelings and I was soaked for nothing; bloody chit. I'd gone back to take a shower."

"That girl was so infatuated with you throughout school," Granger responded with a faraway wistful smile, "It was cute."

"It was horrid and vile, she looks like a pug."

"No one said that you had to marry her and make her part of the family, just that you should be aware of her feelings."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Draco huffed, waving his hand at her noncommittally.

"Anyway," Granger continued, "I was given back my time turner by Headmistress McGonagall for seventh year and everything had been going well until..."

She trailed off as Draco interrupted her, "Back? Back would mean that you'd had it before...you've had a Time Turner before?"

"Yes, I had one in third year...how else do you think Sirius Black and Buckbeak escaped."

"Buckbeak, what the hell is a Buckbeak?"

"That Hippogriff that you taunted mercilessly."

"Taunted! You mean that beast that attacked me!?"

"He was not a beast!" she screeched angrily. Now Draco understood what the Weasel had meant when he'd called her a harpy one day in Divination. She'd long since given up the subject by that time so the Weasel'd been able to say it aloud without worrying about her overhearing. "Anyway, I had…will have an accident. I end up in school fifty years ago."

"How did you get back?" Draco asked without thinking.

"I didn't. That's why I'm in this portrait."

"You're…you're dead," Draco croaked out with eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes sweetheart," she responded a bit downhearted.

"Don't call me that," Draco sneered.

"I am your Grandmother, Draco. I will call you sweetheart, or love, or my widdle ferret if I want to."

"Ha, you lying, you can't be my Grandmother," Draco suddenly realized, letting thoughts come together in his head, "You're a mudblood and I'm a pureblood."

"You're not a pureblood, Draco."

"Of course I am. Mother is a pureblood and Father is a pure…"

"Your father is a Halfblood."

"This is bullshit," Draco snarled.

"Don't speak to her that way," Abraxas growled out, causing Granger to turn to him and glare in a way that reminded him of his father...had Granger changed the way that she glared or had he just only noticed now that he knew that she was apparently his grandmother.

Granger was his Grandmother...that thought was disturbing, what would Potter and the Weasel do if he did his presentation on his Grandmother, Hermione Granger...Myone...what was his paternal grandmother's maiden name?

"How did you get the name Myone...I mean I know those idiots call you Mione but Myone isn't exactly the same."

"Did you want to hear the story of how I became your grandmother?" she asked, suddenly excited.

He winced; did he want to hear that story?

"How Lucy became a Death Eater...I still feel sorry about that," she stated, the last part seemingly to herself.

Lucy, did Hermione Granger just call his father Lucy?

"I'd like to hear the story actually," Draco felt himself say in disbelief. Did he really just agree to this? "I can use it for my homework for Binns."

A grin was reaching her eyes and he was realizing that this decision may have been a mistake.

"Oh wonderful," Granger smiled, "This is just wonderful. Well it all started...no I can't have you standing here in the family hall. We'll meet in the drawing room in ten minutes; there are a few blank portraits just for this purpose."

She didn't wait for him to agree, simply nodded once and then disappeared from view.

"She's been quite lonely with Tom and Bellatrix living here," Abraxas told Draco suddenly, causing the boy to look from the now empty frame to his Grandfather, "Tom had even gone so far as to perform a charm locking her into a frame so she was forced to watch herself be tortured on the floor, it was cruel-Tom was just being cruel. I think she just wants to talk to you; she hasn't been able to talk to someone in quite a while..."

"What about father?"

"He's too ashamed of himself to visit...it really is too bad, Myone is quite a forgiving person; she doesn't blame him. But he's still refusing to speak to her; perhaps after you know everything you can talk to him and convince him to come see her. He's still her son, despite everything."

Draco nodded and stood there, he was not expecting today to go this way.

"Well get going, she's probably already down there wiggling in her chair in anticipation." Draco nodded once, and turned quickly heading down to the drawing room.

His grandfather was right as it turned out, she was already there, fidgeting and wiggling, a brightness on her face that he'd only seen a handful of times and never because she was going to be talking to him.

"Oh," she smiled delightedly, clasping her hands in front of her from the 7 foot portrait, making her life-size in the drawing room. The portrait also contained a small loveseat with a decorative rug on the floor, both decorated in Slytherin Colors. He couldn't help but wonder what Granger thought of sitting in a Slytherin room, it then dawned on him that this wasn't Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger was an 18 year old girl who'd threaten to hex him when he attempted to get into their shared bathroom to piss while she was in the shower.

Hermione Granger was an 18 year old girl who ran around with Potthead and Weaslebee and rose her hand to answer every question.

This woman was Myone Malfoy who was actually excited to see him. She was the one who forgave Lucius Malfoy, something Hermione Granger would never do.

This was Myone Malfoy who went to school with the Dark Lord and who apparently knew her well enough to personally despise her.

This woman was his Grandmother. He could see the delight on her face as she spotted him and he couldn't help but smile back in return. He nodded once and acknowledged her, "Grandmother."

Her smile got impossibly larger at the term which seemed to be contagious, he coughed and hid it quickly, but he was almost positive that she'd spotted it.

"Take a seat dear," she smiled, motioning with her hand to the matching loveseat in front of the portrait. He wondered if it was planned that way before quickly realizing that he'd never really put much thought into the fact that there was a painting in the drawing room that was just of a couch; that thought slightly disturbing him. How many other things did he pass on a constant basis and simply ignore.

He sat down on the couch and ignored that train of thought. It was easier that way. "Hurry up Brax, you're taking too long. If you don't get your arse in here, I'm starting without you; you were the one that wanted to join us, not the other way around."

Draco smirked as she yelled at her husband; one of the most well respected Malfoys for centuries, in her traditional Granger-like way, apparently there was still a little bit of Granger in there.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Draco heard the man huff, before he joined his wife on the couch and lounged back, one arm draping along the back of the couch and behind his wife while the other arm rested on the arm of the couch. Grang...Grandmother sat beside him; back straight with her hands neatly folded on her lap and her ankles crossed.

Draco could tell they were happy, despite their situation...being dead. They seemed to find comfort in one another and he knew they were in love. He remembered when his parents were like that, before he'd told his father about the strange boy in Madam Malkins that fateful day in Diagon Alley. Maybe Abraxas was right, maybe he could get his father and grandmother back into each other's good graces; maybe he could get his father to be happy again.

"So," she began with a smile, "Where was I...ah yes it all started one day in January..."

And there we have ourselves a prologue. Let me know if anything isn't canon besides epilogue. I threw that mostly out the window. I don't mind Ron, but Ron and Hermione just wouldn't work long term. They are way to prone for divorce and I just don't see that as a popular thing in the Wizarding World.

I had an old account on Fanfiction that I wanted to use but even after three years it hasn't let me do anything; no responding to PMs, no Doc uploading, no nothing. And I wasn't banned or anything...I still get alerts when someone favorites my stories...I just can't tell them that I can't add to it. I think it's a glitch in my account. I had that account for so many years and now it's garbage. I'm really sad. Oh well...fresh start I guess.

~Shn4zy~