She knows
The Ministry hallway bustled with activity, its occupants too preoccupied to notice Harry Potter walking through the crowd. He wasn’t complaining; anonymity was rare and welcome. The case had gone differently than expected, and Harry still couldn’t quite process everything. Sharing custody of Teddy with Draco Malfoy wasn’t part of his original plan, but Andromeda’s letter had left no room for argument. Hermione's intervention had been the final push that swayed the court, ensuring Draco wasn’t cut out of Teddy’s life.
“Don’t you dare dismiss her wishes,” Hermione had declared, her voice a razor-sharp rebuke as she held up Andromeda’s letter. The courtroom had gone deathly silent. “She trusted both Harry and Draco with Teddy because she knew what was best for her grandson. Now, it’s up to us to honor that trust.”
Draco had looked stunned, and even Harry hadn’t expected such fervor from her. But Hermione was Hermione—fierce and resolute when she believed something was right.
It was this same determination Harry saw now as he turned a corner and spotted her, juggling a precarious tower of parchment. Her curls were messier than usual, and her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Hermione!” he called.
“Harry?” She looked up, startled, her frown quickly melting into a mixture of relief and exasperation. “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d left after the hearing.”
“I was going to, but—” Harry hesitated, thinking about Draco still speaking with the Minister. “There were a few things to finish up. Need a hand with that?” He gestured to her teetering stack of documents.
“If you don’t mind,” she sighed, dividing the stack in two and handing him half. “And while we walk, you can explain how you feel about co-parenting with Draco Malfoy.”
Harry groaned. “It’s... complicated.”
“I can imagine,” she said dryly, adjusting her grip on the remaining papers. “The Draco Malfoy I remember wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help anyone, let alone share responsibility for a child. What changed?”
Harry hesitated. “He’s... different now. At least, he’s trying to be. For Teddy.”
Hermione shot him a skeptical look but said nothing, allowing him to continue.
“He loves Teddy, Hermione. You should’ve seen him in court. He’s serious about being there for him. Andromeda wouldn’t have named him if she didn’t trust him.”
“Trust is earned, Harry,” Hermione said pointedly. “It’s not a blank check.”
“I know,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But maybe... maybe people can change. He’s not the same person he was at Hogwarts. And you know, Teddy seems happy when he’s around. I thought you believed Draco had changed,” Harry said suddenly, his voice low but pointed. “You defended him back there.”
Hermione glanced up sharply, brow furrowing. “I defended Andromeda’s wishes,” she corrected, her tone clipped. “I don’t know Malfoy well enough to believe in his redemption or whatever.”
Harry stopped mid-step, causing Hermione to pause as well. She looked back at him, arms crossed, expression expectant.
He took a breath. “Right,” he said slowly. “That makes sense. You don’t know him. But don’t you think Andromeda did? She trusted him enough to name him as Teddy’s guardian.”
“That’s not the same thing, Harry,” Hermione replied, her voice softer but still firm. “Andromeda hadn't met him before; she had nothing to forgive. She must have seen something in him, something I haven’t. What I’ve seen is someone who spent years sneering at people like me, like you. And now, because she believed in him, I’m supposed to trust that he’s a different person? It’s not that simple.”
Harry pressed his lips together, choosing his next words carefully. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “He was a right prat. But... he’s trying, Hermione. For Teddy.”
Hermione shook her head, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. “I don’t understand you, Harry. You’re not the type to just... let things go. You never have been. So why are you being so forgiving with him? It’s not like he’s ever been kind to you.”
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Maybe it’s Teddy. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen what it’s like when people don’t get a second chance. Or maybe... maybe it’s because I’m tired of holding onto all of it.”
Hermione’s gaze softened, though her expression remained skeptical. “You’re a better person than I am, Harry,” she said quietly. “I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for Teddy’s sake. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop watching him.”
Hermione stopped in front of her office door, eyeing Harry carefully. “That’s big of you, Harry. Really. But don’t let your Gryffindor tendency to see the best in people blind you to who they’ve been. Just—be careful, alright?”
He nodded, setting her papers on the desk as they stepped inside. “I will. But he’s a good guardian, Hermione. He deserves the chance.”
“And St. Mungo’s?” Hermione asked as she began sorting through the stack.
Harry stiffened. “What about it?”
“He’s applying, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. And he’s good, Hermione. He was top of our class in Potions and Defense—right behind you, of course.”
Her lips twitched, but her expression remained skeptical. “St. Mungo’s doesn’t accept mediocrity, Harry. He’ll have to work harder than anyone else—he’s not just another applicant.”
Harry’s frustration bubbled up before he could stop it. “He’s more than capable, Hermione! It’s not fair to hold his past against him forever.”
She raised an eyebrow, her voice calm. “It’s not about fairness. It’s about trust and competence. Both take time to prove.”
“I should get going, I still have to pick up Teddy before heading to work,” Harry said with a shrug, as if that were enough of an excuse, and opened the door, cutting off Hermione’s chance to retort.
But just as he was about to step through, something made him freeze. Hermione, still inside, noticed his sudden stillness and, curious, stepped closer, trying to find what had caught Harry’s attention.
At the far end of the room, amidst the bustle, Draco Malfoy sat in one of the waiting chairs, speaking with Luna Lovegood. His dark, formal attire contrasted sharply with Luna’s eccentric colors, but his small smile as she spun in place and spoke animatedly was startlingly genuine. He seemed so different from the Draco she remembered. The Draco she had in mind would never be smiling at Luna unless it was in a mocking way, but this—this was something else entirely.
Harry froze, caught off guard by the sight. Hermione followed his gaze, her expression unreadable.
“Well,” she said quietly, “that’s unexpected.”
“I told you people can change,” Harry said softly.
…
The Burrow was warm and lively as always, but Harry could feel the tension in the air as soon as he stepped inside. Teddy was curled up on the sofa, his little body shaking with sobs and his hair flashing through colors in a frantic, uncontrolled pattern.
“Teddy, what’s wrong?” Harry was by his godson’s side in seconds, crouching down as the boy reached for him with tiny, trembling arms.
“Hawwy,” Teddy whimpered, his voice small and pitiful. Harry scooped him up, holding him tightly as the boy buried his face in his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Molly began, wringing her hands. “He woke up looking frightened, and I couldn’t calm him down. He kept asking for something—I couldn’t understand him. The poor thing got so upset, and now he’s like this.”
Harry nodded, gently rocking Teddy as the boy clung to him. “It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley. Teddy, can you tell me what you want? What’s got you so upset?”
The child sniffled, pulling back just enough to whisper, “Dwaco... I lose Dwaco.”
Harry blinked. It took him a moment, but he understood the toddler’s words. “He misses Draco,” he translated softly.
“Draco?” Molly repeated, her tone laced with shock. “How does he even know Malfoy?”
Harry adjusted Teddy’s position in his arms, careful to keep his voice calm. “They’re family. And they... like each other.”
Molly’s expression tightened as if she had a thousand questions ready to burst out, but Harry wasn’t in the mood for explanations—or criticism. He had a crying toddler in his arms, and that took priority.
“We’ll talk later,” he promised, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Still looking deeply puzzled, Molly simply nodded. “Of course, dear.”
…
Harry barely had time to brush the ash from his robes before Teddy wiggled out of his arms, his face lighting up as soon as he spotted Draco. The blonde was sitting on a bench near a Ministry information desk, Luna Lovegood beside him, animatedly gesturing as she described something undoubtedly whimsical.
“Dwaco!” Teddy cried, running full speed toward him.
Draco’s head snapped up, and he immediately stood, catching the child mid-run and pulling him into a tight hug. Luna smiled serenely at the reunion, her silvery hair catching the light as she leaned back against the bench.
“Hey, hey,” Draco murmured, crouching to Teddy’s level as the boy’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “What’s all this crying about? Did someone upset you?”
Teddy mumbled something incoherent into Draco’s shoulder, but his body had already relaxed in the blonde’s embrace. Harry stood awkwardly a few steps away, feeling strangely like an outsider in the scene.
“He missed you,” Harry said finally, scratching the back of his neck. “Mrs. Weasley said he woke up looking for you and wouldn’t calm down.”
Draco glanced at Harry, his expression sharp, but he didn’t offer any cutting remarks. Instead, he adjusted Teddy in his arms, one hand brushing through the boy’s hair as it shifted to match Draco’s pale blonde.
Luna tilted her head, watching them thoughtfully. “You’re quite good with him, Draco,” she said. “I always thought you’d be better with magical creatures than with people.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m bad at both.”
Harry snorted despite himself, earning a glare from Draco.
“Well,” Luna continued dreamily, “I suppose children are a bit like magical creatures, aren’t they? Full of wonder, unpredictable, and very sensitive to emotions. Teddy’s lucky to have you.”
Draco’s glare softened into something almost bashful, though he quickly masked it by turning his attention back to Teddy. “Are you hungry, my little monster?”
Teddy nodded solemnly, his grip on Draco tightening. Harry heard him calling that like this sometimes, even though sound mean, he always said it softly
“I guess that’s my cue,” Draco muttered, standing and balancing the child on his hip. He glanced at Harry, his tone curt but not hostile. “We’ll grab something to eat. See you at home.”
Harry nodded, watching as Draco strode off with Teddy still clinging to him and Luna trailing behind, cheerfully continuing her earlier conversation. The sight left Harry with a peculiar warmth in his chest, one he couldn’t quite name.
Harry stood alone by the Ministry’s fireplace, staring into the flames with an unfocused gaze. Teddy and Draco had gone back home—"our home," Harry realized with a strange, unfamiliar warmth in his chest. He hadn’t expected to feel this way—so relieved to see Teddy comforted, so strangely at ease with Draco’s presence in his life.
“Oi, mate,” Ron’s voice broke through his thoughts, and an arm clapped heavily over his shoulder. “Why does my favorite work partner look like he’s been dumped?”
“I’m your only work partner,” Harry replied dryly, brushing Ron’s arm off.
“Exactly! So what’s got you looking all mopey?”
Harry hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing, Ron. Just... a long day.”
Ron smirked knowingly but didn’t push further. “It’s just 11 am. But if you say so, mate.”
Harry didn’t respond, his thoughts drifting once more to Draco and the small, unexpected ways his life was changing.
…
At dinner time, Harry cooked while Draco and Teddy hovered nearby, “helping.” The two, looking every bit like father and son, hummed an old wizarding nursery rhyme. Draco lifted Teddy into his high chair with ease, turning to prepare the little boy’s plate. Harry couldn’t help teasing as he finished up.
“Think you can match my hair this time, Teddy? Let’s see it go black.”
Teddy’s small brows furrowed, his hair shifting back to blue as if responding to his confusion. Draco raised a brow at Harry’s earlier suggestion.
“He doesn’t seem to control it consciously,” Draco said, brushing a stray strand of hair from Teddy’s forehead. “It’s instinctual. Probably harder than it looks.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. Tonks always made it seem effortless.”
At the mention of her name, Teddy perked up, his small face lighting with recognition. “Tonks?” he repeated in his tiny voice.
“Yeah,” Harry said softly, forcing a smile. “Tonks was your mum.”
Teddy giggled, the name sparking joy instead of questions this time. “Mummy!” he exclaimed, happily poking at his food.
Draco stiffened, his hand faltering mid-motion as if the word struck a nerve. Harry noticed but didn’t push. Instead, he turned to Teddy with a warm smile. “Eat up, Teddy.”
Draco exhaled, his thoughts tangled. Tonks. She had died for what she believed in—something Draco hadn’t dared to do. His cousin had fought for people like Harry, for a world where Teddy could grow up free of prejudice. And here he was, a former Death Eater, trying to be a father to her son.
He glanced at Teddy, who was gleefully making a mess of his dinner, and his chest tightened. Andromeda trusted him with this little boy, but why? Was he worthy of that trust? Of Teddy's love? The mark on his arm still felt like a brand of shame, and sometimes he wondered if Tonks would hate him for touching her child with hands that had once served Voldemort.
But then Teddy turned his little face up toward him, grinning with a smear of peas on his cheek. “Dwaco, I eat!” the boy declared proudly. And for that moment, it didn’t matter. Draco smiled back, warmth spreading through his chest. He couldn’t remember feeling this kind of love before—unconditional, unrelenting. He’d fight anyone who tried to take Teddy from him, even if he didn’t believe he deserved him.
Harry watched the exchange silently, his chest tightening for an entirely different reason. He was used to thinking of Malfoy as arrogant, selfish, and cruel. Yet the way Draco looked at Teddy now, as though the little boy was the most precious thing in the world, didn’t fit that mold. It reminded Harry of how Sirius had looked at him when he was younger—protective, proud, and full of love.
And then there was Harry himself, who knew all too well what it was to be judged unfairly. He thought of the Dursleys’ sneers, the years of whispers about being “The Chosen One.” Draco had been a villain in his life for so long that it felt unnatural to think of him as anything else. But wasn’t that what Harry had always wanted for himself? For someone to see past the stories and the labels?
The silence stretched until Draco finally broke it with a sardonic laugh. “What is it, Potter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Harry hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without sounding like he was prying. “Mrs. Greengrass didn’t seem to think you were capable of taking care of Teddy,” he said finally. “But she’s wrong.”
Draco’s laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “Wrong? No, Potter. She’s right. I’m a Malfoy with a criminal record, no experience with children, and plenty of people who’d love to see me fail. Why wouldn’t she think I’m incapable?”
“You’re not that person anymore,” Harry countered firmly. “And you’re proving it every day with Teddy.”
Draco set the glass down with a clink, his jaw tightening. “Abasi’s hatred, Greengrass’s doubts, they don’t bother me because they’re lies. They bother me because, at some level, they’re true.”
“She is wrong,” Harry said simply. “And Abasi…” He hesitated, weighing his words. “I don’t know him, but I think he’s holding onto something that has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh, it has everything to do with me. I represent everything people like Abasi have a right to hate. To be honest, I’m not mad, at least Absi hates me for good reasons.”
“What reasons?” Harry asked, feigning disinterest as he wiped some food from Teddy’s face.
Draco leaned back, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s my winning personality. Or maybe,” he added dryly, “it’s because I didn’t exactly make an effort to be nice. I could tell he hated me the moment he saw me, so I gave him reasons to.”
Harry didn’t laugh, but he smiled faintly. It made sense in its own Draco-ish way. Absi was the only Muggle-born judge and had likely faced prejudice from purebloods his entire life. For him, Draco must have been the epitome of everything he despised.
“Still,” Harry said lightly, “you’re not exactly easy to love.”
Draco’s gaze shifted to him, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes before he scoffed. “So I’ve been told.”
Harry winced, regretting the teasing. “Sorry. That was—”
“True.” Draco cut him off. For a moment, it was just plain silence. Then he sighed, looking at Harry with something close to resignation. “You should understand him as someone who hated me once.”
“I did,” Harry admitted. “And maybe I was wrong about you then, too.”
Draco blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“I know what it’s like to be judged,” Harry continued. “Everyone expected me to be something—‘The Chosen One,’ their hero. And when I didn’t live up to it the way they wanted, they tore me down. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Trying to live with everyone else’s expectations.”
Draco’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension between them eased. “You’re not as clueless as I thought, Potter,” he said quietly.
Harry snorted. “High praise coming from you.”
Teddy chose that moment to interrupt, waving his tiny hands. “Dwaco, done!” he chirped, his hair shifting to a soft blond like Draco’s.
Draco stood, scooping the boy into his arms. “Good job, Teddy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
As Draco carried him to the sink, Harry watched them, his thoughts spinning. He didn’t know what to make of this new Draco Malfoy—the one who hummed nursery rhymes and worried about being good enough. But he realized one thing for certain: he wanted to find out.
Harry watched Draco as he adjusted Teddy's high chair, lifting the boy with an ease that reminded him of the precision of a Slytherin. He didn’t care who saw him or who disapproved—his focus was Teddy, and Teddy alone. It wasn’t a show for anyone; it was pure Draco. Harry had always known Slytherins had a certain loyalty that ran deep, hidden behind layers of cunning and self-preservation. But seeing it now, in Draco’s every movement as he hovered protectively over the child, Harry couldn’t help but admire it.
Draco didn’t flinch at the judgment of others. Not Greengrass, not Abasi, not anyone who still clung to the idea of who he had been. In this moment, he was everything Harry had never expected him to be—strong, unshakable, fiercely loyal to the boy in his care.
And there was something else. Despite the weight of the past, Draco didn’t give a damn about the opinions of those who hated him. His loyalty wasn’t about gaining anyone’s approval; it was about protecting those he cared for. In a way, Harry could almost appreciate the Slytherin ruthlessness of it. He’d seen it in himself, too—only, his had always been a raw, unrefined version.
But Draco? He had it down to an art.
Harry felt an unfamiliar stirring of respect. Perhaps there was something to be said for Slytherin tenacity after all.