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At first, he isn’t worried. His son is hardly the first, and most certainly won’t be the last pureblood heir to… engage with a Mudblood in less than ideal ways. And it’s not any Mudblood, but the one he had so fiercely despised during his school years; Potter’s little friend. So surely this thirst for the forbidden shall end soon.
He isn’t worried when a colleague and his wife spot them at a restaurant together. Afterall, he did raise Draco to be a gentleman. Even if the girl is beneath him, it makes sense he’d want to show her the finer pleasures that his status brings.
He doesn’t even worry when Draco tells him that he’s bringing a girl over for dinner: it never crosses his mind that the girl could be the Mudblood. So when she arrives to the manor through the Floo, hair straightened and wearing what looks like the best dress she could afford, for the very first time, Lucius Malfoy finds himself speechless.
They never make it to the table. He pulls Draco aside and five seconds later they are yelling at each other.
“If she isn’t welcome in this house, then I refuse to remain here,” he says with a fierceness that would’ve made him proud if it wasn’t being used against him.
“Foolish boy, you don’t know how life is out there. You, someone who’s had every whim and desire fulfilled the second it was voiced!” He sneers. “You won’t see a galleon from me if you consort with that Mudblood!”
“Then I guess I’ll make it on my own!” He sneers back. And he’s out of the room. Immediately, the portraits begin to whisper loudly amongst each other. Lucius glares at them before leaving. By the time he arrives to the dining room, Draco and the girl are nowhere to be found and Narcissa has served two glasses of wine.
“That went smoothly.” She commented casually. Lucius huffed behind his glass.
“He’ll be back in a month, give or take. He has no way to sustain himself and the fates know for how long the girl will willingly put up with him.”
“He seemed very determined.” Narcissa pointed out.
“Please. This is Draco we are talking about.”
A week later, it has spread that Draco Malfoy is in a relationship with a young healer-in-training that just so happens to be Muggleborn. Lucius keeps his head high while walking through the Ministry before attending to the Wizengamot’s sessions. He has nothing to be ashamed of, his son is the one at fault here.
Eventually, it reaches his ears that he’s managed to land a job as an errand-boy of all things. He finds it laughable and beneath his station, but so be it. He doesn’t think he’ll last for long there, likely to snap at the first person to ask too much of him.
Once in a while, he’ll spot his son speaking with Potter or one of the multiple Weasleys that work at the Ministry –he is unable to tell them apart. He even manages to get a glimpse of the Mudblood, dressed in her healer uniform after a shift, with him.
The one time he lets the shame burn him is when he crosses paths with Arthur Weasley, who cheerfully tells him that his son is great to work with.
“I was unaware that he worked for your department,” he says indifferently.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” There’s something shining in his eyes that puts Lucius on edge. “I was the one who got him the job.”
Lucius freezes and Arthur Weasley continues, unaware (or perhaps fully aware) of his mortification.
“Hermione asked me if I could put in a good word for him. Imagine my surprise, I thought he’d be working alongside you.”
“We are not on speaking terms right now, not that it’s any of your business.” The redhead shrugged.
“Figured you might want to hear about him. He is your son.”
He didn’t Arthur Weasley to remind him so. “And when did you become so familiar with him?”
Once again, the glint in his eyes. “I see him every Sunday for lunch at the Burrow.”
Lucius’s stomach turned.
“Hermione is always invited and since the two of them are together— well, it’s only fair he gets a place at the table too, right?”
Lucius didn’t dignify that with an answer, just went on his way. If his son wanted to sleep with a Mudblood and befriend blood-traitors then so be it.
It wouldn’t last for long.
-
His son doesn’t return home that month or the next. Before he knows half a year has passed and he has downed more wine bottles than he cares to admit. Narcissa’s lips seem to be permanently drawn into a thin line.
“Do you think he’ll be back today?” She asks drily. Lucius doesn’t reply.
He has seen what Draco receives in his paycheck and it’s hard to believe that he can be satisfied with it. He had gone to Gringotts to ensure he wasn’t getting anything from there, but the goblins had told him that Draco had never asked to see his vault. A bit of pushing here and there had revealed that he now had a joint vault with ‘Miss Granger’. The thought makes him seethe.
He spends that Christmas alone with Narcissa. And the next.
Draco turns twenty-three and Lucius reads of his engagement in the Daily Prophet. The girl now works at St. Mungo’s and if Lucius calculations are correct she earns more than his son. He doesn’t see him as often anymore, since he had moved up from errand-boy.
The wedding happens seven months after their engagement is announced and much to Lucius’s surprise, they actually receive an invitation. A week before the affair, which lets him know how much his son had mulled over it before sending the letter.
It isn’t thrown away immediately, nor tossed to the fire. It lays on the table for two days before Narcissa opens it.
There are two pieces of parchment there. The first is the most obvious one: “You are invited to celebrate the wedding of…” and the second one directly addresses them both.
“He says we are welcome to join them as long as we don’t make a scene. With them or the other guests.” She reads and looks at him in the eye. They’ve always been a team and through their marriage, they’ve shared every decision.
“You want to go.” He declares.
“He is our only son. And since he’s marrying her, I’m lead to believe that he won’t be returning.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “You wish us to remain strangers forever?” He looked down. “What will happen when they have children?”
“They’ll be half-bloods.” He spits. She doesn’t seem happy at his declaration.
“Still, your blood.”
“There’s never been a half-blood Malfoy.” Not one that made it to the family three at least.
“Then what will you do?” She glared. “Divorce me and find a young thing to give you another heir? One that actually obeys you blindly?”
Lucius’s eyes widened, where did that come from?
“Absolutely not—“
“Then we better get used to the idea of half-blood Malfoys.” She sighed. “Because they are the only grandchildren we’ll be getting.”
They attend to the wedding.
Lucius is horrified to see that his son now lives in a tiny cottage in the middle of a field, but he keeps it to himself.
-
Things don’t immediately heal, naturally. They don’t get invited for lunch on Sundays.
The process of building a bridge is a lengthy one and Draco insist that they, particularly Lucius, should be the ones making the efforts. The older man insists in keeping his pride, even if he hasn’t had a proper relationship with his son in years.
Narcissa has an easier time getting back in her son’s good graces and often goes to his place for tea. Once in a while, Lucius will join her and have clipped, polite conversations with the girl— who is less of a girl and more of a grown woman.
The bridge is more or less rebuilt by the time she gets pregnant, and it’s inaugurated the day their first daughter is born.
The baby is a tiny thing with a tuff of dark curly hair, who looks nothing like a Malfoy and is loved by all of them. Even Lucius can’t help but be drawn to her, to the point where he even has a genuinely polite and heartfelt conversation with the girl— Hermione’s mother about becoming a grandparent.
So while everything gets better from then on, it’s also the beginning of the end.
-
Not even six months after the birth of their daughter, they are expecting again.
“Things have gone so smoothly with Rose,” their son explains. “We should be fine. See, we weren’t really trying—“, he blushed, “but we’re really excited.”
Lucius and Narcissa congratulate him. They were never able to have any children after Draco, so it’s rather thrilling to see their son’s family growing.
He still lives in the dreadful cottage though, much to Lucius dismay. He had offered to restore Draco’s right to the Malfoy vault, only to be refused swiftly. His son wanted none of that gold, despite the fact that he could use it. It infuriated him to no end, his stubbornness.
“I told you I’d make it on my own.” Draco says. Lucius can respect that, even if he doesn’t like it.
-
“So now you are a farmer?” He asks with barely veiled disapproval, but it’s been a while since Draco has cared for his opinion, so it goes ignored.
“The fresh eggs are good,” he says as they look at the chickens and ducks strutting through the grass. “And the kids like them.”
Scorpius and Rose were inside, toddling after their grandmother.
“Have you thought about my proposition?”
“The Wizengamot isn’t for me.” Draco said for what felt like the umpteenth time. “I like it where I am.”
Lucius had to keep himself from gritting his teeth. “The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.”
Draco sighed. “Mr. Weasley is a really good boss, he understands what’s like to have young children in the house—“
Lucius waved his hand. “Spare me the praises for that man.” He failed to see the amusement in his son’s eyes. “How’s your wife feeling?”
“Ask her yourself.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“And with reason.” Lucius huffed. “Mione’s doing fine, no nausea this time.”
“That’s good to hear. You think this will be the last?”
Draco smiled. “Definitely no. I never thought being a parent would be this fun, we want another one at least.”
A headache began to form behind Lucius’s eyes. Having so many children was unseemly for a pureblood family, contrary to popular belief. Few heirs were better, a large brood like the Weasleys wasn’t the ideal.
“And the house doesn’t feel… tight?”
He shook his head. “I’m building another room next to Rose’s and we’ve been thinking about adding another floor.”
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “You know that there’s more than enough space at the manor for all of you—“
“I don’t live at the manor.” Draco reminded him. “And we’d have to put down all the portraits if we moved.” Indeed. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking about building a greenhouse too. Mione read that it helps with children’s development when they have small responsibilities, like a garden or chores.”
Lucius felt lightheaded at the idea of his grandchildren having to clean their rooms or tending to a garden like common house-elves.
“You didn’t have any chores while growing up.”
“And how well I turned out.”
-
“I’m going to tell him.”
“You will do no such thing.”
“Five children, Narcissa. Five.”
Her eyes narrowed. “He wants his children to have the siblings he never had.”
She was ignored. “All of them piled up in that little cottage— like— like—“
“Like what, Lucius?”
“Weasleys!” He despaired.
Narcissa sighed. “Oh stop it, we both know you are going to fawn over this one like you did with the rest.”
“I will.” He agreed. “But you can’t expect me to sit and watch as my grandchildren sleep on top of one another.”
Narcissa frowned. “Rose and Scorpius have rooms of their own. Helena and Lucrecia are the only ones sharing and they are barely more than babies.
“Arthur is influencing my son, leading him to this lifestyle—”
“Your son is an adult.” She said slowly, clearly done with his antics. “And if he wants to go live in a swamp and have a dozen children, that’s up to him and his wife, not to you.”
He shushed her. “Don’t give him any ideas!”
-
Their fifth child is a boy, the first one after Scorpius and every inch of him screams Malfoy.
There are far too many people in the St. Mungo’s private room, in Lucius’s opinion, though nobody cares about it nowadays. For every birth there’s been a swarm of Weasleys and Potters, coming in with congratulations and gifts.
“We have decided to name him after a very important man.” Lucius’s chest puffed with pride, unbelieving of what he was hearing. “A man who gave me a chance when I needed it the most.” Draco cleared his throat and smiled. “So I present to you all, Arthur Malfoy!”
Lucius heard the rest of the congratulations as if he were underwater. What he did managed to understand were Molly Weasley’s words to Hermione.
“I remember when I held Ginny for the first time. I was so happy that I finally got a girl, but I was also sad at the thought that she'd be my last baby."
Hermione kissed little Arthur's head.
"I'm not sure if he is our last. I don't think we are quite done yet." Then she added. "I do want a break in between. Maybe a year or two."
Lucius could've passed out.
-
One day he arrives to the cottage to find Rose flying over the little house, Scorpius following her closely.
"It's hard to believe she'll be at Hogwarts in a year," Hermione said while looking at the sky. "Time has passed so quickly, it feels it was just yesterday that we left the manor together."
Lucius ignored the jab. "They do grow quickly. I remember when we had house elves cleaning up the messes Draco’s accidental magic caused.”
“I have to clean up those messes myself!” She chuckled.
“With all of them?”
“I mean, it’s been a while since Rose or Scorpius had any accidents. Lu, Lena and Arthur are another matter.”
“All of them?”
She must have noticed something in his tone, because she narrowed her eyes in a way that made her look like Narcissa. “What are you asking exactly?”
He tried to be nonchalant about it. “Just curious.” But Hermione Granger wasn’t one to fool with.
“None of my children are Squibs, if that’s what you’re asking.” She told coldly. “Not that there’d be any issue if they were.”
“Wouldn’t it be? If they were, they’d have to leave our world eventually and live amongst Muggles. I think that with the amount of children you have, you should consider yourself lucky that all of them have magic.”
The frown left her face only for haste to fill her expression. “Oh, that’s what this is about?”
Fuck, he silently thought. “I just mean that the statistics-“
She cut him. “Lucius, you’re not a healer. I am. You don’t know anything about statistics and honestly- worry about what happens in your bed, not in ours.”
He felt his face grow red. “I don’t worry about what happens in your bed!”
Hermione snorted. “Doesn’t seem so. You might as well gift us a contraceptive potion.”
“I didn’t think you knew they existed.” He grunted.
She smiled mischievously. “Oh, Lucius. We’d have a dozen children if we didn’t knew about them.”
-
Months later, everyone accompanies Rose to take the Hogwarts Express. The little girl gets on the train after receiving plenty of kisses, teary goodbyes and a small pouch of gold from her grandfather in secret.
She’s not alone, Potter’s oldest and middle child are there, along with the spawn of the youngest Weasley boy. The three kids wave to their families from their shared compartment as the train leaves.
Hermione lays her head on Draco’s shoulder, who holds Arthur in one hand and holds Lucrecia’s hand with the other. Helena is holding onto Hermione while waving excitedly at her older sister, while Scorpius sulks in jealousy.
They later have lunch together in the cottage, as Draco refuses to set foot in the manor and hasn’t been there since he left all those years ago. Dogs run to greet them and they get petted effusively by the children. They aren’t the fine hounds Draco grew up around, but two mutts that Hermione had gotten from a Muggle shelter. Because apparently such things existed. The children gave them bits of their food while they all ate outside.
Lucius had accepted long ago that Draco wouldn’t be talked into living in the manor, but that didn’t meant that he was accepting of his lifestyle. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw his son dressed in formal robes, the kind he had worn every day when he was young. Now he wore all kinds of Muggle garments and so did his grandchildren!
“Which house do you think she got sorted into?” Narcissa inquired.
“She’s a Malfoy, the hat will be in her head for a second before sending her to Slytherin.” Lucius said with pride.
“I doubt it. She doesn’t feel like a Slytherin to me.” Draco scratched his stubble. “And if she does end up there… I’m worried about the pureblood supremacists.”
“Things are not like they used be,” Hermione reassured him gently. “Besides, she has Hugo, James and Albus with her. Not to mention George and Angelina’s children. And lots of other Weasleys. She won’t be alone.”
“You were not alone either, but that didn’t keep me from being a jerk.”
Hermione kissed his cheek. “I broke your nose for it. She’ll be fine. Have some faith."
The next day, an owl arrives to the manor with news that the eldest Malfoy girl has been sorted into Slytherin along with her friend Albus. For the first time in years, Lucius feels like has won something.
-
Before Scorpius turns eleven and half-way through Rose’s first year at Hogwarts, Draco tells him that he’ll be a father again. At this point, Lucius is once more disappointed, but not really surprised.
“Congratulations.” He musters and Draco smiles happily, proceeding to tell him all about the renovations he plans on doing to the house. Now that he has fixed the coop, he’s thinking about building a barn and getting some horses.
“For the children, mostly. They really like looking after the animals and Hermione has always liked the idea of having one. Her parents used to take her riding when she was young—“
Later, he’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t put up a fight when Helena and Lucrecia ask to braid his hair. Narcissa tells him they make him look gallant. He spends the evening with void eyes as his grandchildren climb all over him, wondering when his son turned into what he was.
-
Scorpius gets sorted into Slytherin and the Malfoy family grows its size. Another boy, this one named Marcus. He’s a chubby baby who looks like the perfect mix between Draco and Hermione, with curly blond hair and grey eyes.
Once more, Lucius can’t help but voice his opinion. Though in his defense, he manages to last a whole year –watching ducks, chickens, horses and dogs take over his son’s life- before speaking.
"I understand that you want your children to have the siblings you didn't… But certainly this is the last one?" He asked pointing at the boy.
Draco looked at him without an ounce of shame.
"Actually, Hermione is pregnant again.”
Somewhere inside him, something broke.