Chapter 2
“Oomph”
The first sound that rang out across his quiet bedroom as a force of nature herself barreled onto his bed and into his arms.
“And just what are you doing out of bed this early, little miss Lyra?” He asked, trying to sound stern but failing because he was loving the recent trend of their morning lie-ins together.
She just giggled in response, only 4 and already knowing she had her father wrapped around her little fingers.
“Sweetheart, you wanna hang out with Uncle Theo and Uncle Blaise today?” He asked, knowing the girl's godfathers would love to hang out at the cottage with the two of them.
“Yes, daddy! Can we play outside in the leaves with Knox?” She exuberantly asked; she had been waiting for fall just to play in the falling leaves. It was one of the happiest memories Draco had from before. Before the Dark Lord, before the etiquette lessons, before Bellatrix came back and started the occlumency lessons, before Father failed, before he had to take the mark as punishment for Father’s failure. He missed being a child, he wanted to go back, to do it all over again, to relive that child-like happiness and joy.
He doubted he would ever feel happiness like that again, he had come close with Astoria, but the curse had taken her a year after Lyra’s birth. Longer than anyone thought possible, she was meant to die in childbirth. But upon their marriage, they had moved to a Black Estate in France, a beautiful country home in the rolling hills, so he could complete a double mastery in potions and healing. He had excelled. He was always good at school, but potions were a favorite of his, and he had already picked up healing skills throughout the war, trying to keep his mother safe and healthy, so it came naturally. They had moved back home to a Malfoy cottage on a rather large plot of land, unplottable, of course. He had opened a potion store in Diagon Ally while she was still alive so he could stay accredited and be able to source some of the rare ingredients he needed without raising too many eyebrows. But then Astoria died, and Draco lost his sense of meaning, his purpose to be a healer.
Draco was resigned. He had accepted at 18 when the war ended that nothing good was meant for him. Astoria was the only love he would get, and he didn’t really believe he even deserved her. He had Lyra and she was all he would ever need. She was the light of his life now, his world revolved around her. He had continued to maintain his shop, not because he needed the money, Lyra’s grandkids would never have to work a day in their lives even if everyone before them didn’t work either, but he kept it so the Malfoy name could mean something good for once, so Lyra could grow up without the judgment and hatred for who her father used to be.
Draco tucked Lyra into his bed next to him as she fell back asleep, curled against Knox, their silky, black German Shepard that Stori had begged Draco to adopt right after she got pregnant. He grabbed his phone to text Theo and Blaise to invite them to spend the day with him and Lyra. Ding. Ding. Theo had texted him back, agreeing cheerfully. He loved causing mischief with his daughter. Still waiting to hear from Blaise. He snuck his way out of bed without disturbing his daughter and then headed down to his kitchen to make himself a mug of coffee and get started on breakfast. Oh, Astoria. All the ways you’ve changed my life. Draco had been introduced to so many muggle and even American ways of living after marrying. At the peak of the war, the Greengrass family chose to send Daphne and Astoria to Ilvermorny to keep them safe. She had so many stories of her time in America. Coffee and cellphones were just the start of the modern world that Astoria brought back home to Draco. Not even to mention the American mentality towards blood status, or perhaps their lack thereof, combined with the death of He-who-must-not-be-named, Draco had gone through a severe identity crisis several months into their marriage. He still saw the mind healer Astoria had sent him to on occasion. Ding. Ding. He grabbed his phone off the counter and saw a text from Blaise. ‘Definitely down for hanging with the kiddo today, are we still on for the opening tonight?’ Blaise had been working for months to restore the shop Draco had funded the purchase of. Art had always been his hobby in school, and after Hogwarts, he went on to do a tattoo apprenticeship, which he had finished up about a year ago. He had continued to work at that shop until he felt it was time to open his own. Draco had been more than happy to be the benefactor Blaise needed to buy the store and kick-start everything. Draco tapped a few times on his phone before it began ringing.
‘Good morning, my dragon. How are you today?’ Came his mother’s prim greeting. Even after the death of his father, after the fall of blood status putting his mother at the top of society, her manners and icy nature had never really faded.
“I’m quite well, mother; Lyra is sleeping in, and I’m about to get started on our breakfast. I was hoping you would still be able to watch her this evening when I go to Blaise’s grand opening?”
“Ah, my dragon. You know we still have plenty of elves in our employ. You shan’t need to cook. And yes, of course, I would love to spend the evening with my lovely granddaughter.”
“Mother, we’ve been over this. I want Lyra to have the opposite of the childhood I had. That starts with me being more involved than Father ever was. That means home-cooked meals, not Elven-cooked ones, though I appreciate the consideration.”
“My dragon, I just want to see you happy and not overburdened.”
“My child will never ever be a burden on me, mother. We will see you this evening.”
“Of course, dear. I will be waiting for you.”
Hanging up, Draco got started on Lyra’s favorite breakfast. Pancakes, chocolate chip ones to be specific. Humming to himself, he turned on the radio; Stori had demanded he install one in the kitchen so she could listen to music while she cooked and cleaned. Just as he was finishing up cooking the pancakes for Lyra, he heard the telltale sound of Knox bounding down the stairs for breakfast of his own and a child trying to sneak down the stairs. She sure does take after Theo, what with her love of mischief.
“BOO!” Came the little girl’s cry as she tiptoed into the kitchen
Draco, always happy to play along, just to get to hear his little girl laugh, yelped in mock surprise.
“Did I scare you, daddy?” Lyra asked through her giggles.
“Only a little, my star,” He responded. “You want some pancakes for breakfast?”
“Oooo yes, please! The ones with chocolates?”
“Well, of course, how else would we eat them?”
Hearing his daughter continue to giggle, he helped her onto her seat at their table and set her plate down in front of her. Petting Knox as he walked towards his food bowl, he set out the dog’s breakfast as well. The trio had a peaceful breakfast together, and right as they were finishing up, he felt the wards shimmer and pull and heard the telltale pop of apparition outside the front door. A knock rang out across the space. Draco walked over to the door, checking to confirm it was Theo before pulling the door wide open. Welcoming his brother into the cottage, he sent Theo, Lyra and Knox out back to play while he finished cleaning up from breakfast. A few moments later and Blaise arrived in the same manner as Theo.
“You know, it would be a whole lot more convenient if you’d just open a floo to your cottage.” Blaise griped. “Apparition is way less pleasant”
“Blaise, brother, we’ve been over this. Lyra’s safety has always been and will always be my first priority. The war may be done, but there’s no shortage of people who don’t think I’ve paid for my role.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, man. She’s too pure to risk like that”
“The wards I’ve built could hold anyone without access out via apparition. I can’t say the same for a Floo line and network connection.” Draco gently explained
“Speaking of the little terror, your home seems much too quiet; what kind of trouble must she be getting into?” Blaise kindly redirected the conversation, knowing how scared of Lyra being exposed to the world Draco was.
“Oh, I sent her outside with Theo while I cleaned up from breakfast. Might be best if someone more responsible went to watch them”
“Of course, brother. Don’t forget to start thinking up a tattoo idea for tonight; opening night tattoos are on the house. Maybe we could start working on your cover-up. If you wanted”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Draco responded hesitantly. He kept his arm well hidden from the world, Lyra most of all. He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to reopen the box he had so neatly stored in his head. If he just pretended the tattoo didn’t exist, then perhaps nothing bad had ever happened. Maybe the war hadn’t ever happened either. It was just easier to ignore.
Draco wrapped up the cleaning that he had left before making his way outside to find Theo magically sweeping all the leaves in the backyard together into piles before charging them hand in hand with his daughter while Knox ran around barking and Blaise sat comfortably on the sofa he had set up on his back deck. Draco slipped on his trainers before heading out into the yard to play with his best mate and daughter
—————
After packing an overnight bag for Lyra and getting her all ready for an evening away with her grandmother, he apparated them away. Standing in front Mamhead House, a rural estate that was part of the Black family portfolio, Draco prepared to knock on the massive front door, when it began to creak open. There, in the opening, stood a small house elf, shorter than his daughter now.
“Eloise. Lovely to see you. I expect my mother to be waiting for us inside?” Draco questioned properly, bending to kiss the French elf on each cheek. Eloise had been his nanny elf as a young child and had become his mother’s handmaid in a sense of the phrase after the war.
“Yes, Master Malfoy. You shall find her in the receiving room, waiting for you and dear Miss Lyra.” The poor girl was hiding behind Draco’s legs; she still hadn’t quite come around to the idea of house elves yet, but at the mention of her name, she shyly poked her head out and sent a small, timid wave in the direction of Eloise.
“Come along now, Lyra.” He gently took his daughter’s hand and guided her through the house, leaving the small bag he had packed with Eloise. His mother truly had done beautifully with the house. Neither she nor Draco had wanted to move back into the Manor following the end of their 2-year house arrest. It held too many bad memories. Draco had tried to tear it down about a hundred different ways, but it seemed the Manor was indestructible, so he turned it over to the ministry to do with what they wished. Last he had heard, Potter was turning it into some sort of memorial and training ground for the DMLE and Auror force. Draco didn’t care so long as he never had to return. Even just the thought of the drawing room would conjure her screams in his sleep for weeks on end. He had tried to reach out right after the war but never heard back and took it as a sign to leave her alone. And after everything his family and the side he had been had put them through, how could he blame her, really?
Walking into the receiving tea room, Draco found his mother sitting on one of the cushy lounge chairs, sipping a cup of tea. He watched as she brightened at the sight of her granddaughter. She may have been a tough mother, hard to please and demanding of nothing short of the most pristine etiquette from him, but she was very much a loving and doting grandmother. Draco sometimes wonders if maybe she would’ve also been a loving and doting mother, had the situation allowed. He didn’t let himself continue that very deep spiral; he’d been there once or twice, and as his mind healer had continually urged him to accept, there was no good that would come from getting lost in the ‘what-ifs’ of the past. He was here living in the present and thus should remain grounded and focused on that.
“Mother,” Draco greeted his mother with a kiss on the cheek before sitting in the seat across from her. Watching as she began wandless summoning bubbles and flowers and butterflies to float around the room for his daughter with nothing more than a snap of her finger, she always has had such an impressive knack for wandless magic, he thought to himself, “Please do try not to send my daughter home with a whole new wardrobe this time. I shall be back in the morning to collect her.” He begged of his mother, remembering all the new dresses and clothes his daughter had come home with. He had been forced to beg with the magic of the cottage to increase the amount of space in his daughter’s closet just to be able to fit everything and it was still overflowing.
“We shall see my dragon. You go and have fun, and leave me to spoil my beautiful granddaughter. We will see you tomorrow.” And with that, Draco was dismissed. Swooping his daughter up off the ground into a large bear hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and reminded her to be good for her grandmother. Setting her back down, he made his way out the door, the sound of his daughter giggling as his mother asked her something indiscernibly and conspiratorially. Knowing he was sure to come back in the morning to find whatever trouble the duo had gotten up, he walked out of the front door and turned on his heel, silently appearing back in his kitchen. Possibly the only perk of the Dark Mark is silent apparition. Shaking his head, Draco let Knox out into the backyard before pouring himself a drink and taking a seat on the sofa near his fireplace. He sent a wordless charm towards the fireplace, setting it ablaze and filling the space with warmth. He knew he only had a short while before he needed to head to Diagon for Blaise’s opening, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Images of a witch, any witch, curled up on the sofa next to him with a glass of wine, just enjoying each other’s company. Possibly after they had put Lyra to sleep. Would they have more kids? He would love to have another child, a son or a daughter. When he and Astoria found out they were having a girl, she was initially wrought with anxiety, fearful that Draco would turn her away and kick her out onto the street for not being able to produce him a male heir. Draco had promptly gone to his solicitor and had the entire Malfoy fortune and the laws that dictated it rewritten. He had thought it was the best karmic middle finger he could ever give his father because Draco knew he would be able to see that his son had produced a daughter instead of the required son, even all the way from the pits of hell, where Draco had no doubts his father was rotting. It had been some time after the war when that letter from Azkaban had come, stating that his father had fallen ill and he should come to say goodbye should he wish. It was the only exception to his house arrest he had been offered. He declined. The man had ruined his life; there was nothing left to be said.
And with that lovely spiral, Draco finished off the last of his drink, went to let Knox back inside, checking that his water was full and giving the sweet boy a few gentle pets before extinguishing the fire with his wand and grabbing his coat to head into Diagon. Turning on his heel again, Draco appeared on the front step of a brightly colored shop. Blaise had chosen a brilliant blue to repaint the storefront, a stark contrast to the dreary of the rest of Diagon, with a number of stores still closed from the war that had torn through and destroyed a number of buildings. Looking around, he noted that his potion shop was in view, which would be convenient, just a short walk to be able to drop in on Blaise for lunch and the sort. Continuing to scan the area, he saw the beautiful bookstore that now occupied the space where Flourish and Blotts used to be. She really has done such a lovely job with the place. He couldn’t help but think to himself. He had followed the news surrounding all three of the Golden Trio after the war when that was all the papers were full of, and it was his only connection to the outside world beyond the Manor. He knew Ron and Hermione had initially tried out a relationship as she explored her career as an Unspeakable curse breaker before that ended explosively. If he remembered right, Ron had fled the country, claiming to be franchising a Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in America. Suspiciously, Lavender Brown had also seemed to drop off the face of Wizarding London. Harry Potter had, of course, gone on to be an Auror, and if rumors were to be believed, he was on a fast track for Head Auror in the next several years once Robards retired. He thought Granger had been on the fast track for the head of the Department of Mysteries, too, but according to Theo, her former partner, she suddenly cut her hours and opened a bookstore with little to no explanation. He had said Granger built herself a space to be able to continue with curse breaking on the side, but it seemed like she had no more aspirations for a flashy future. Draco had always wondered what had prompted such a drastic change in the Golden Girl. He would’ve thought she would be heading straight for Minister of Magic before she was even 40.
Lost in his own pondering, he missed Theo approaching and was startled when Theo began to speak.
“Well, do you plan on going in any time today, or are we going to have to move the party out here to accommodate his royal highness?” Theo mocked, though, not unkindly.
“Ha ha. We can go inside, it would be a bit cold for you mortals to be out here for that long.” Draco replied
“Well, I’m sorry, we don’t all have skin like alabaster and the proclivity for the cold of a vampire.”
The two headed into the shop lit with warm golden lights. Draco paused in the entry way to study some of the artwork Blaise had hung, examples of his style. Studying the drawings of dragons that Blaise had on display, Draco was struck with inspiration. They wouldn’t be tackling his Mark just yet, but he did have an idea for his very first tattoo. He knew when it was time, he would want to redo his Mark completely, fill his whole arm full of beauty to try to erase the ugly scar of his past, but for now, he would be getting a tattoo across his chest, over his heart, and it would be of his and his daughter’s constellations. He would leave the design up to Blaise, but he now knew what he wanted to leave on his body forever. He also knew he would someday get a small narcissus on his body, possibly on his sleeve over the dark mark.
Draco heard a low buzz kick on and looked over to see Theo laid out on Blaise’s chair getting something tattooed on his leg, probably something dumb if Draco knew his best mate at all. Walking over, he saw what looked like the start of a very cartoonish bumble bee just over the top of Theo’s knees. As realization dawned on his face, Theo began cackling about how he quite literally would always be the bee's knees now. Draco sat down, across from Blaise and began describing what he wanted for his tattoo while Blaise worked and finished up on Theo. Blaise cleaned up the area and sent Theo out to the front, to greet anyone who may come in. As Draco was getting settled, he heard the front door jingle and jumped up off the table to put his shirt back on, to try to cover his Mark before anyone could see. Blaise headed up front to see his new customer, and as Draco finished covering himself, he heard a familiar voice traveling back through the shop. He breathed out a sigh of relief. It was just Neville. Never as a child did he think he would be considering Neville safe, a friend, but Neville and Luna truly had been instrumental in keeping Astoria alive and comfortable with potions as her curse progressed and weakened her body. Not long after the war, the Quibbler had announced the marriage of the duo before they took off across the world, sourcing all kinds of rare and unstable herbs and flora. Neville maintained something of a traveling greenhouse and was Draco’s primary source of ingredients for his potion shop. They had forged something of an understanding right after the war. Well. Really, Draco had gone begging, and Neville had taken pity. But over time, it had grown into a friendship. Different from his relationship with Blaise and Theo, but a friendship nonetheless.
Turns out, Neville was looking to get his favorite plants tattooed on his arm, create something of a sleeve out of it, and was hoping to get started today. Blaise had Neville take a seat in the small waiting area while he got to work on Draco. Draco had never been more grateful for a numbing spell than right now. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it sure wasn’t the most pleasant feeling Draco had ever experienced, though nothing would ever be worse than the Dark Mark. Blaise made some small talk as he went, but Draco got lost in the feeling and his thoughts. He still hadn’t dropped the thought of what could’ve possibly thrown Granger so far off the course expected of her. He hoped it wasn’t a curse or something caused by his side of the war. He spent most of his time trying to devise a way to casually run into her; he had had something akin to an obsession with her growing up. How could this witch, a muggle-born, possibly be better than him at magic? It was preposterous, he had always thought as a child, Father had taught him they didn’t deserve magic, and none could wield it with half the power as a pureblood. But she had shown up that first year and shook his beliefs down to the very core. His confusion bled into anger and jealousy, and he regretted every word he had ever said to her. He wished for nothing more than to apologize, knowing forgiveness could never come from someone as good as she was. But he wished for the chance to tell her he knew now just how wrong he had been. She deserved that; she deserved the world where he deserved nothing anymore. He had made his choices and had the rest made for him.
Blaise continued to work, the occasional comment and chatter here and there. About an hour later, Draco had a new mark, one full of love, hope, and future. One of beauty. He was so proud to wear the constellations of his daughter, and himself intertwined together on his chest forever. As he made his way back out front, he tugged his henley back on, smiling kindly at Neville, before saying his goodbyes to the group and heading home to sit with himself and his thoughts a little longer.