Hopes and Regrets
“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re so pale.” Draco said, placing a gentle hand on her upper arm once she was fully within his study. “What was the meeting about?”
Hermione shook her head. “We need to wait for your mother to get here first. It was nothing bad, I promise. Everything is fine.”
“You’re sure you’re alright?” He asked again, and she smiled despite herself.
“Yes, Draco, I’m alright.” He didn’t look at all convinced, but dropped the subject anyway. Hermione fiddled with the letter in her hands, and he eyed it warily, but didn’t ask anything else. A few moments later, Narcissa appeared from her wing of the manor, looking as worried as her son.
“What’s happened?” She asked.
“I’ve got something to read out to you both, if you want to sit down.” Hermione gestured to the sofa, and Narcissa perched on the very edge. Draco remained standing, arms folded across his chest. “As you know, I had a meeting at the Ministry this morning. I didn’t know what it was about, but it turned out to be with the family department. I’ve got, um-” She held up the letter. “The will.”
The two Malfoys blinked at her. “Lucius…” Narcissa began, and Hermione nodded.
“It’s already been read to me, but I was instructed to read it out to you both. There’s the will itself, but there’s also a letter that he wrote.”
“Why you?” Draco asked, voice slightly hoarse.
“Just…let me read it?” Hermione replied, and he nodded. She took a breath and unfolded the letter.
To my son, and my dearest wife,
Whilst I still can, I wish to explain some things to you both, if you would permit me a few moments of your time to listen.
I was not a man that took risks. I foresaw how events would turn out as best I could and planned accordingly. As such, when I saw the tide turning and heard whispers of the Dark Lord’s return, I tried to put us in the best possible position for the future. I could not have been more wrong, and for that, I am sorry. I should have realised sooner than I did, that light will always triumph over dark. I should never have underestimated Miss Granger and her friends.
In spending the final years of my life staring at these four stone walls, I have had ample time to reflect on the choices I made. I valued power, money, and influence far more than I valued my family. I cannot place the point where this change occurred, but it occurred nonetheless, and you both have suffered because of it. I hope that you will not have to live under the shadow I cast forever.
To my darling wife, Narcissa, and my beloved son, Draco, I leave only the consequences of my actions. I leave a tarnished legacy, a house soaked in blood, and far too many scars. I wish that I had an opportunity to earn your forgiveness, but alas, my time runs short. Instead, I hope that the following gesture might convey my sentiments.
To Miss Hermione Granger, I leave everything. Every single property, and all contents therein, every single Gringotts vault in my name, and all of my possessions. She shall be my sole beneficiary.
As a proud slytherin, I fancy myself an observant man. This has been both a blessing and a curse.
Cissa, I wonder if you recall the very first letter we received from Draco after he left for Hogwarts. It has often played on my mind over these last few years, for a number of reasons. You might remember that he told us about being sorted into slytherin house before the hat even touched his head, or how he was thrilled to be sharing a room with his friends. He told us about meeting the famous Mr Potter, and how he didn’t think he’d made a good first impression, but he wanted to work at it. He told us about the brightest young witch, with ‘bushy’ hair and an unmatched intellect. He told us that he wanted to befriend her, even if she was a gryffindor. I took that innocent interest and I twisted it into something darker, and that haunts me. It haunts me because, as I see the occasional photo in the Prophets they sometimes allow me to have, I see the mistake I made. I see that I only delayed the inevitable, I delayed my son's happiness.
I am a man who has always seen things as they truly are. I am a man that knows what soulmates look like.
I leave everything to Miss Granger in the hope that she is now my daughter-in-law, or, at least, very soon will be. My son should have learnt by now that following his heart is far more important than attaining my approval. In truth, he has always had it, but I fancy now that he knows he does not need it. Listing these hopes is indulgent, but I have indulged throughout my entire life and I do not intend to stop now. My final, and dearest, hope is that my son has turned out to be a better man than I was. The bar is rather low, I know, but I wish for it all the same.
It is the fate of every Malfoy man to love and be loved by a woman he does not deserve. I condemn my son to follow in my footsteps in this regard.
I do not wish to include any caveats, in case I am wrong about Miss Granger, because I know that she is what I could never be. She is a good person. Whatever has happened, I know she will always strive to do right by everyone she comes across, because she simply cannot stop herself from doing so. Once, I would have sneered at someone with that personality trait. Now I recognise that it is to be applauded.
Look after my family, Miss Granger. They are far more precious to me than anything else I have held in my hands, and I never had a chance to tell them that. In re-reading that last line, I realise it isn't true. I had plenty of chances, I just never took them. Perhaps that is my purpose, to become a cautionary tale. I should have loved more loudly, freely, and openly. I wonder if doing so would have put me on another path, one that did not end the way it has. Or perhaps I was always headed here, regardless of anything else. We cannot say for sure. All I know is that, whilst regret is a short word, it stretches on forever.
Until we meet again, amongst the stars,
Lucius A. Malfoy
Hermione had started crying roughly half way through the letter, and was openly sobbing as she got to the end. She looked up, hands still shaking, and found that both Malfoys were also crying as they gaped at her.
“I…” She began, before faltering, covering her mouth with her hand.
“He knew. All this time, he knew.” Draco said, looking at his mother. Narcissa nodded.
“He was so proud of you. Not in spite or despite anything, simply because of all that you are.”
“He could have told me that.” He whispered. His mother stood then, crossing the small room and bundling him into her arms. After a moment, they parted, and Draco pulled Hermione into a hug.
“I’ll give it all back to you. Everything he’s left me.” She promised, speaking into his chest. He laughed, even as she could feel her hair becoming damp with his tears.
“What would be the point? It would have been yours one day anyway.” He replied. Hermione pulled back.
“You mean that?” She frowned up at him.
“Of course I do. Of course I bloody do, you barmy woman.” Draco said incredulously, wrapping his arms around her again as Narcissa chuckled at the pair of them. Hermione took a moment, squeezing her eyes tight as Draco held her. She silently spoke to Lucius, wherever he might be, and made him a promise. She would look after his family - her family - not because he’d asked, but because she wanted to. She fancied that he spoke back to her, that in that moment she became the first person Lucius Malfoy had ever genuinely thanked.