Author's note: This was written for the Strictly Dramione Summer Lovin' Fest. It's complete, and will be told in 12 parts. I'm uploading the first two today! So before you worry I've started something new on top of all of my WIPs, I have not. This originally wasn't going to be uploaded, but it didn't feel right. That being said, I didn't have very good timing, and no one was able to beta for me. So all mistakes are completely my own, and I am sure there are several that I'm going to punch myself in the face for later.

I can't wait to hear what you think, so if you'd please leave a review, I would love you so very much. This will update either once a week, or every few days. It's a light fic, not so much angst, but it gets heavy for a minute, and there's a lot of fluff, and smut.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

- Emily Bronte

Prologue

August 31, 2018

Malfoy Residence

"Move your arse." Lyra mumbled, shoving her brother harshly as she tore through the trunks in the attic. "Mum said they were up here. Where else could they be?" She tied her hair up, bunching it together and growling when the hair tie broke.

"Well, they're not in the bottom of this trunk." Scorpius shot back, throwing an old shoe at his older sister's head. "Why would you want to look at Mum and Dad's albums anyway? There's hundreds of portraits all over the manor."

She huffed, "Scorp, I could see boring, old, official portraits any day. I want to see the picture Mum took when they were falling in love." Lyra could only glare as her brother shoved his index finger down his throat and gagged. "You act like that now, but you won't be acting like that with Rose when we're on the train tomorrow."

"Shut your mouth!" Scorpius might be her younger brother, but no one ever thought that at first glance. He'd inherited their father's height standing at the same height as him. He'd gotten the sleek blonde hair that seemed to belong to the Malfoys. Scorp threw himself down in a dusty chair, paying little attention to his clothes. Lanky like their father.

Lyra had her mother's eyes, something she was repeatedly told, and up until Slytherin's seeker had told her he could get lost in them, she'd loathed the chocolate brown color. Regardless, the seeker turned out to be a prick. She was an inch taller than their mother, with curls that threatened to strangle her in her sleep.

"It might be interesting. Dad was obviously doing something right. Maybe I could learn a thing or two." Floorboards creaked as he made his way across the room, dodging the one step that he'd fallen through as a child. During an important meeting with the Minister of Magic. In which he'd landed on the dining room table. "I'll start going through the shelves over here. Mum would have labeled them."

"Mum would have labeled what?"

Lyra spun on the balls of her feet, grinning ear to ear when she saw her father leaning against the door frame. Dressed in a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers. His hands were shoved into the pockets as he took one step into the room, taking a long look around.

Their attic was quite literally falling apart. Shelves that had been in place for generations, held together by magic were beginning to bow in the middle. "If Mum ever comes up here, she'll hex me for not cleaning this up sooner. The last time it was cleaned was,"

"Was when you grounded me for a summer and made me clean it without magic!" Scorpius grumbled. "If I ever see a hammer again it will be too soon."

Rolling her eyes at her brother, she returned to their father. "Do you know where mum put your photo albums?"

"You'll have to be more specific." He replied, one eyebrow arched. "Is there a certain year you're looking for, or a holiday?"

"It's the album of the summer before your last year at Hogwarts!" She gushed. His eyes seemed to light up, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. "Mum told me I wouldn't be able to find it with magic,"

"Which is ridiculous!" Complained Scorpius. "Mum's the Brightest Witch of her Age,"

"Sweet Merlin, do not let her hear you say that." Draco said quietly, throwing a look over his shoulder in case his wife had appeared. "She was over that title in a year. It's because she never wanted anyone to grab it without her permission. Even if you'd found it without her knowledge, there's wards around it. She'd have known instantly."

Draco took two strides across the room, standing in front of a painting with his hands behind his back. "Have the two of you ever looked at this photo?" The eldest Malfoy asked his children, a smug smirk crossing his lips. "Who is this?"

"One of our several ancestors." Scorpius replied, bored.

"Septimus Malfoy." Lyra chimed. "He was our great-great grandfather. The painting is from the eighteenth century."

"Right you are." Draco smiled

"Know it all." Her brother muttered.

"As bright as you are, surely you can tell me why there is a photo album on the desk beside my late great grandfather?"

Lyra's eyes widened as she rushed forward, leaning towards the painting while her brother came to stand beside her. "It has your initials, and Mum's!"

He leaned over her, stepping onto the ledge of the fireplace, and reached directly into the painting. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

"How in the bloody hell did she expect us to find that?" Scorpius tried to hold his glare, but dissolved into laughter. "She was testing us."

"Of course she was. She's always challenging you. You could look at these photos on you own if you life, but I could sit down and tell you the story. The story behind the photos." At the eager nod of his daughter and the way his son got comfortable in the floor in front of an old table, he took a seat across from the two. "We didn't get along well, but she has this habit where she works her way into your heart."