The Living Years

Just a little song fic that has been playing in my head for quite some time and I had to get it down on paper. So...here it is! I know I have other stories to finish and I will, but forgive me as real life insists that some of it take a back seat. I hope you enjoy the story!!

The Living Years


Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door


The burning pain on his arm shocked Lucius Malfoy to the core. There had been rumors, of course, whispers that the Dark Lord was making a comeback. Lucius had fervently wished they would remain rumors. However, the searing heat radiating off the once faded tattoo was urging him to apparate to Voldemort’s location and a glance at the Dark Mark showed that it was seemingly alive and as it pulsated Lucius had the eerie feeling it was smirking at him.

He closed his eyes and as he apparated out of the Manor thoughts of his long deceased father followed him.

Lucius wasn’t sure when it started but Jasper Malfoy had always impressed upon him as a boy that Muggles and Muggleborns were simply beneath Purebloods. They were foul, ugly, and dirty and their magic was half as powerful as a Pureblood’s magic. Wanting to be accepted by his father, Lucius agreed and believed.

Though still young when Jasper passed of dragon pox, Lucius clung to those beliefs, the only part of his father that remained, as there had been no portrait painted of him either before or after his death. It was these beliefs that had been passed down to Lucius’ own son, Draco.

I know that I’m a prisoner
To all my father held so dear
I know that I’m a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him
In the living years

Draco hid his fear and loathing of the Dark Lord well. Standing before him in the formal dining room, one would think that the young blond was confident; proud even of the task he had just been given. Inside though, he could feel his stomach twist in knots, and his thoughts raced as he tried to sort out how he could save his father and still keep Dumbledore alive. Narcissa Malfoy had died a few years earlier, a potions overdose the cause, so that was one less person Draco need worry about.

Glancing in his father’s direction he could see that Lucius was no longer the man he was before his stint in Azkaban. Oh, he still swore absolute allegiance to Voldemort, but there was something else that Draco was still trying to define. Was it too late to hope that his father was changing the very beliefs that had brought them to this place and time? Perhaps it was as no one escaped the Dark Lord’s clutches alive.

There was only one answer as far as Draco was concerned, only one group of people that could hopefully save himself and his father. Harry Potter was the only hope for the Malfoys and it was in that moment Draco swore to himself that he would do whatever necessary to get Lucius out of this alive.

Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect though
Stilted conversations
I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got


Draco was seated in the Hogwarts library, working on an essay for Ancient Runes. Books and parchment were spread out in front of him, and a lovely Gryffindor was seated across from him. He wasn’t sure when Hermione Granger had decided to become his friend, but he was glad she was. It hadn’t been easy, Potter and Weasley, and the other Order members had been disinclined to welcome him much less help him. But with the interference of Professor Dumbledore, and the petite Muggleborn witch, it had been decided that in exchange for information, Lucius and Draco would be protected and defended to the best of the Order’s abilities.

Information Draco had leaked to Potter was instrumental in finally killing Voldemort once and for all. When Lucius found out of his son’s deal with Harry Potter, he had been livid. Especially after a picture of Draco with the Golden Trio had been printed in the Daily Prophet. It had caused a major fallout between father and son. The son not understanding the father’s willingness to cling to the old beliefs. The father afraid to let go of the beliefs that were his only link to the man who had sired him, something the son could not understand.

Hermione saw all this and more though Draco wasn’t a very forthcoming individual in the feelings and emotions department. She watched as he sighed and tossed his quill on top of the blank parchment in front of him. Deciding to take a risk, she brought up the one topic that was strictly taboo with Draco. She raised her eyes and gazed into his steel blue ones.

“You should write him.” The words were spoken softly but the impact of them was so loud, it was as though the Hogwarts Express has just come crashing through the library.

“Have you completely lost the plot, Granger?” Perfect smirk in place, he glared at her, “Why would I write to him when he can’t even be arsed to write to me, the son who kept his sorry arse alive!” Though his tone was angry, the hurt in his eyes told her the truth of his feelings. Placing one of her hands over his, she leaned towards him across the table.

“You can’t leave it like this, Draco. You need to tell him why you went to the Order.” The warmth of her hand on his had momentarily shocked him, and a curious feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. “Write him, Draco.”

Later that evening Draco sat at his desk in the Head’s Common Room. Crumpled pieces of parchment littered the desk and surrounding floor. How bloody difficult could it be to write one’s own father, anyway?

You say you just don’t see it
He says it’s perfect sense
You just can’t get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense

Draco studied himself in the mirror. Formal dress robes, check. Hair in perfect place, check. Shoes polished, check. Diamond ring in pocket, check. All was in order and tonight was the night. It had been two years since that night in the library with Hermione. He never did write that letter to Lucius, but he did gather the courage to ask Hermione on a date. It was one of the best decisions he had ever made.

Giving himself a final cursory glance in the mirror, he walked out of his room and down the stairs, poking his head in Lucius’ study to let him know he’d be gone for the evening. As he was about to head out the front door, his father spoke.

“You’re not still seeing the Granger girl, are you Draco?” Lucius watched as his son, so very like him and yet so very different in many ways came to stand directly in front of his desk.

Draco, for his part had never hidden his relationship with Hermione from his father, nor did he ever discuss it as well. There were still some prejudices that Lucius could not let go of. Draco dating a non-Pureblood was one of them.

Fighting to keep his patience in check Draco answered, “You know very well that I am, Father.”

“Why her? Why the best friend of Harry Potter?” Lucius affected a bored tone, yet his eyes spoke volumes as he looked at Draco.

“What does it matter to you, Father?” Draco challenged.

“You know she is not one of us.”

“If you mean by not one of us that she is not pretentious, snobbish, and worried about blood status, then no she is not one of us. A fact I thank Merlin for every day. However, perhaps now is as good a time as any to let you know, Father. I am going to ask her to marry me tonight.” Draco stared down at Lucius, almost daring him to disparage Hermione more.

“You can’t. I forbid it.” Lucius’ tone brooked no argument, yet Draco, wiser, and perhaps more clear of thought than his father held his ground.

“I am not a child, Father and your beliefs no longer hold sway with me. Your approval is not needed here.” With those words, Draco turned and left the study.

Lucius sank back in his chair, his son’s parting words still echoing through his mind. Quietly he contemplated them. Tested the weight, the simplicity of them. No, Draco was no longer a child. He was a man, intelligent and capable of forming his own thoughts and opinions, no longer needing the approval of his father. And it was in that moment that the truth hit Lucius square in the face. Draco had learned the lesson Lucius should have learned a long time ago. A son does not have to embrace his father’s beliefs to be accepted.

His shoulders sagged in defeat, had he just ruined his chances to have a decent relationship with his son because of a truth he had figured out too late?


Say it loud, Say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late, When we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
It’s the bitterness that lasts


Hermione floo’d directly into Draco’s study in Malfoy Manor. Stepping from the fireplace, she dusted the Floo powder off her black cocktail dress and took in a deep breath. This was to be her first face-to-face meeting with Lucius Malfoy since her engagement to Draco and she had no idea what to expect.

Draco had visited her in her office yesterday to inform her of his father’s wish to have them join him for an intimate dinner to celebrate their upcoming nuptials. Her fiancé had offered to decline dinner but she had insisted. It was long past time the two stubborn men settled their differences once and for all. And if it meant facing off with the devil himself she would. Draco needed Lucius as much as Lucius needed Draco. Father and son would begin to heal if she had anything to say about it.

Draco stood, hands in pockets and leaned on the doorframe. He watched an interesting display of various emotions cross Hermione’s face and smiled. One of the things he loved most about her was that she was open and honest with her feelings. He never had to guess what she was thinking, or how she felt about a particular topic, it was all their for him to see.

“You look beautiful tonight, love.” Hermione’s gaze jumped towards him and she smiled, damn if he didn’t look delicious in his black on black dress robes. Dessert was definitely going to be her favorite thing on the menu this evening. She walked over to stand in front him and laid her hands on his chest. Standing up on tiptoe she placed a soft kiss on his lips. It would have been a quick one if he hadn’t wrapped his arms about her and hauled her closer in order to deepen the kiss. They both were easily lost in one another, hearts racing, hands roaming, heat building. Had it not been for a house-elf clearing his throat, Draco might have taken her on his desk. Looking down in to her flushed face and sparkling eyes he decided that was exactly what he’d do after dinner.

“Master Draco, Master Lucius is wanting you and the young miss to make your way to the blue dining room.” Draco nodded at the small elf and with a pop it disappeared from the room.

“Hermione,” he began as he clasped her hand and began to lead her down the hall, “You don’t need to do this. Just say the words and we will go out to that new restaurant in London you wanted to try.”

She glanced at his face and caught a brief glimpse of disappointment. Stopping for a moment she turned and caught his face between her hands, “Draco, I know I don’t have to do this. I want to do this. It’s important that we do this.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Fine, but if you begin to feel uncomfortable, we’re leaving.” She nodded and let him escort her into the dining room.


*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*


Dinner was a spectacular failure. Lucius was cordial at first and Hermione mainly was the one to keep conversation going with safe topics such as the latest Potions research, and the newest reforms going through her department at the Ministry of Magic.

Halfway through the meal, Lucius calmly asked if they were planning a traditional Wizarding ceremony. Draco’s eyes met Hermione’s and they both swallowed the food in their mouths. Hermione gently laid her fork and knife on the table and looked Lucius straight in the eye.

“Actually, Mr. Malfoy, we will be having a Wizarding ceremony for our friends and family here, and a Muggle ceremony for my family and friends in that world. In this way neither of our families will feel awkward or out of place.”

“I daresay my son will feel out of place.” Lucius spoke in a low drawl, “He is after all a Pureblood and unaccustomed to lowering his standards.”

With a vicious curse, Draco stood and walked over to Hermione’s chair and helped her out of it. Why didn’t Lucius understand that this was no longer about status or blood or anything else? He loved Hermione and she loved him. His father should’ve been happy for them. He glared at Lucius while at the same time wrapping an arm around his fiancés waist.

“You’ve gone too far, Father. I will not put up with your blatant disrespect of my future wife, her heritage, or any other damn fool thing you can think of. The war is over! Voldemort is dead! Why can’t you let these prejudices die with him?” Draco took Hermione by the hand and tugged her behind him towards the doorway.
Hermione cast a last look in Lucius’ direction and caught a glimmer of something in his eyes, before they hardened. She couldn’t allow Draco to leave it like this. She knew how stubborn the Malfoy men could be. If she and Draco left now, there would never be another chance for them to reconcile.

Hermione stopped walking and in turn caused Draco to stop as well. Immediately his eyes darted to where his father sat, stone-faced and silent at the dining room table.

“What’s wrong, darling? Did he try to throw a hex at you as well?”

“Draco, we need to stay.” With a flick of her wand she warded off the dining room so that neither Malfoy could leave until they had settled their differences. Peace would finally reign at Malfoy Manor.


So don’t yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different day
And if you don’t give up
And don’t give in
You may just be okay


Draco and Hermione were married underneath the great Rowan tree in the Malfoy gardens at dusk. The guest list was an eclectic mix, with all the houses of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons represented. As they shared their first kiss as man and wife, two gorgeous white doves soared high above them and the crowd stomped and whistled their approval.

Their first dance was underneath a canopy of stars and as she snuggled closer to her husband, Hermione sighed contentedly. Draco lowered his head and placed a soft kiss in her hair before speaking softly in her ear.

“You’ve made me a very happy man today, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“You’ve made me a very happy woman today, Mr. Malfoy,” she returned, smiling up at him. He dipped his head to place another soft kiss, this time on her lips.

“When do all these people leave, I want you warm and naked underneath me.”

“Mmmm, maybe it’s you who will be under me, husband,” she replied teasingly.

“As you wish, my darling….oh, look is that my father chatting up Molly Weasley?” The shock in his tone had Hermione turning her head and smiling at the sight of her surrogate mother and father-in-law talking amicably.

“I never thought I’d see the day.” Draco shook his head and looked into his wife’s shining eyes. “It’s all because of you, you know. If you hadn’t forced us to stay in that dining room…” His throat closed up with emotion. He and his father still had plenty of issues to straighten out, but because Hermione had been determined to make him happy she had forced both he and Lucius to do the one thing they had never done. That had been to talk to each other.

It hadn’t been easy, fingers were pointed, blame was thrown around, as well as some dishes, and a few hours had passed that night before they actually spoke calmly and rationally. Lucius had gone first, speaking of his relationship with Jasper, his enthrallment with the power and potential that Voldemort offered, and finally of how he was afraid to let go of what he had believed for so long.

Draco has been shocked to say the least and then before he knew it, words were tumbling out of his mouth, his resentments of Lucius, of the path Lucius had set him on, his realization that he didn’t want to be the same, do the same. More hours had been spent talking and it had taken a while before either man had realized that Hermione had lifted the wards and quietly returned to her apartment.

“I love you, Draco as does Lucius. You both just needed some prodding to open up to each other.”

“He adores you now. He tells everyone how his daughter-in-law is the brightest witch of her age.” Hermione groaned in response to Draco’s teasing.

“Please, if one more of his cronies comes up wanting to speak to the future Minister of Magic, I am going to scream.”

Chuckling, Draco spun her out and then back in again to shift her into a low dip. “I love you, Hermione.”


Say it loud, Say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late, When we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye

I wasn’t there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn’t get to tell him
All the things I had to say
I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I’m sure I heard his echo
In my baby’s newborn tears
I just wish I could have told him
In the living years

It was a rainy Saturday in April when Hermione found both Draco and Lucius in the library of Malfoy Manor. She smiled when she heard them debating the pros and cons of the new potions company Draco was planning to start-up. She silently made her way over to the desk Draco was currently occupying.

Lucius was offering to be a silent partner, to fund the costs it would take to open a new business. Draco was just as vehemently turning him down. He had some investors around Europe that he wanted to bring in and since it was his company he would be doing it his way. Hermione saw the flash of stubbornness in both their eyes and decided that now was as good a time as any to interrupt.

“Darling,” she spoke to Draco, “the Floo to Roberto Tocci’s villa has opened. It’s time for you to go.” She saw the way Lucius straightened his spine, and the brief flash of hurt in his eyes that his son would not be including him in this latest venture. She also recognized the flash of resentment in Draco’s. It happened like this sometimes. A word or two would be spoken and they’d circle back to the way their relationship had been. However, since the night of the engagement dinner any anger lasted barely a day or two as both made the effort to discuss things.

“Go on, then, son. I am sure your investors will be impressed with your proposal.” Lucius’ words were stiff and formal and Draco acknowledged them with a brief nod of his head.

“Thank you, Father.” He placed a brief, but lingering kiss on his wife’s lips and gathered up the needed parchments. He sent a final glance over his shoulder and entered the Floo towards Italy.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Later that evening, Hermione sat in the giant bathroom she shared with her husband. She had ventured out into Muggle London in the afternoon for some shopping wither mother and had discretely bought a muggle pregnancy test. Currently the pee stick was sitting on the back of the toilet, as she waited not so patiently for the required two minutes to pass. She was pretty sure she’d get pink for pregnant, her body just felt different to her, but she didn’t want to assume and then be disappointed later.

She and Draco had been trying for the last year to get pregnant, and though they had fun trying, Hermione was starting to worry there might have been a problem. When she realized she was two weeks late this month, she opted not to tell Draco. They had had their hopes dashed a few times already and she didn’t want him to be upset when he spoke with the investors this week.

She jumped when the small alarm clock rang to notify her that her two minutes were up. Walking over to the toilet she picked up the stick and let out a small shriek of happiness.

A small house-elf popped into the room. “Missy Hermione, I is hearing you scream. Is everything ok?”

“Yes, Pipsy, everything is wonderful! Master Draco and I are going to have a baby!” The tiny elf clapped its hands in joy and then promised to not speak a word until Master Draco and Master Lucius had been informed.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Hermione was walking on air as she made her way back from the library. She had Floo’d over to Draco, asking him if he could come home for a brief moment. Concern had been evident on his face, but that hadn’t lasted long. The smile on his face and the giant ‘Whoop’ he made would stay with her, as would the feeling of being swept up in his arms and made love to on the overstuffed sofa in the library.

She was humming to her self, a joyful tune as she made her way down the upstairs hallway towards the master suite at the end. She saw that Lucius’ study door was open and she could just make him out sitting in a chair facing the fireplace.

Hermione knocked softly on the door, not wanting to walk in without invitation, as it was Lucius’ personal space. When there was no answer she knocked a little louder and called out to him.

“Lucius, may I come in?” When still there was no reply, she made her way across the room and around the chair to face him.

He looked peaceful in slumber, the lines of worry barely unrecognizable on his forehead. She reached out to take the snifter of brandy from his hand and found that his hand was cold to the touch.

“Lu – Lucius?” She could not pry the glass from his hand, and with sinking dread she placed one of her hands to the pulse on his neck. Finding none, she sprang into action, her training from the war bringing out the general in her.

“Pipsy!” she yelled for the house-elf. A split second later he popped into the room. “I need an Emergency Medi-Witch from St. Mungo’s immediately.” The little elf jumped to do her bidding returning almost instantaneously with a matronly witch.

“What is the emergency, Ma’am?” She walked toward Hermione who gestured towards the man in the chair.

“My father-in-law, please, I just walked in and found him with no pulse, and cold to the touch.”

The Medi-Witch ran a few diagnostic tests on Lucius before finally concluding that he had died of natural causes. His heart had just given out on him.

Hermione was devastated. She sank to her knees on the floor and let the tears fall as she realized she had just given Draco some of the best news of their lives and now she would have to tell him his father was dead. Life could be very unfair, and Fate a fickle mistress.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into the Medi-Witch’s kindly eyes. “The body needs to be removed to St. Mungo’s for an official evaluation, and eventual preparation for burial. I can arrange that, if you’d like.”

“I…I’d appreciate that. I need to inform my husband. He’ll want to…ah…say good-bye.” Understanding dawned in the Medi-Witch’s eyes and she reassured Hermione.

“Would you like someone to stay with you while you inform your husband?”

“No, just…we’ll be to St. Mungo’s as soon as we can.”

Hermione took a moment to freshen up before she approached the fireplace in the library, then took a deep breath and tossed in some Floo powder. When Draco’s face appeared she asked him to step through for the second time that evening.

“Ready for round two, love?” he asked even as he pulled her towards him. When she didn’t respond he stared into her face and noted the serious expression she wore.

“What is it, Hermione? What’s upset you?”

“Draco, let’s sit.” She grabbed his hand and led him over to the sofa that they had so recently made love on. Once they were seated she took both his hands in hers.

“I wish I didn’t have to say this. It’s Lucius, Draco.” She paused, tears gathering again in her eyes and threatening to spill.

“What about my father, Hermione?” Draco felt a sort of wild panic climb up his throat, “What about him?”

“He’s…oh Draco, Lucius is dead.” The tears spilled over, leaving wet tracks down her face as she watched a myriad of emotion cross her beloved husband’s face. Hate, fear, resentment, respect, pride, and love. She drew him into her embrace and held tightly to him as mourned the loss of his father.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


ONE YEAR LATER…..


Pierce Simon Malfoy woke up hungry. Sucking in some air the tiny four month old managed to let out a cry that could wake the dead. He wanted milk and he wanted it now.

Across the room Draco stirred and glanced at Hermione’s face next to him and saw that she was sleeping deeply. Deciding to let her rest, he quietly called for Pipsy to bring him a bottle and got out of his cozy bed to see to his son. He padded quietly across the room and scooped up the crying infant in his arms. Pipsy brought the bottle and in moments Draco was settled in the nearby rocking chair staring into eyes that were very much like his own.

“That’s quite the appetite you’ve got,” he whispered, still amazed that the tiny bundle was a part of he and Hermione. “If you keep eating like this, I might have to open a vault in Gringotts just to feed you.”

Pierce kept his eyes on his father. Studied him, as he drank greedily from the bottle, is what Draco felt.

“I’m going to do right by you. You and your mother and any brothers or sisters that might come along. Your grandfather, Lucius, he didn’t, not while I was growing up anyhow. I won’t ever put you in a situation like I was in.” Pierce finished the bottle and pushed it out of his mouth. Draco continued to speak as he stared into his son’s eyes.

“I miss him, though. Especially towards the end. We were never close, Lucius and I. Not until your mother decided she had enough of the two us always swiping at each other. I tell you, kid, your mother is a force to be reckoned with. Better never get on her bad side.

“Anyway, I guess what I am trying to say is that I loved him, love him still, and just wish I could have told him.”

Pierce wiggled slightly in his father’s arms and Draco focused in on his face. There in his baby’s eyes was a look so much like Lucius that it had Draco catching his breath. He blinked and the look had disappeared to be replaced with the curious eyes of a four-month-old baby. He had seen it though, seen love and pride shining out of eyes that were Lucius’. And somewhere in his heart, Draco knew that his father was aware of how much Draco loved him.

Say it loud, Say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It’s too late, When we die
To admit we don’t see eye to eye


Thanks for reading!!!