Archive of Our Own

Draco is making silly faces at Scorpius in a desperate attempt to get his eighteen-month old son to actually eat his breakfast instead of splattering it all over his chubby face when Astoria enters the small dining room and, carefully and deliberately, places the Prophet on the table in front of him.

After successfully shoving a spoonful of apple purée in Scorpius’s mouth, Draco turns to his wife—more accurately, his roommate—with a raised eyebrow. "What’s this?" he asks.

Keeping her gaze suspiciously averted from his, Astoria simply plucks Scorpius out of his high chair and starts cooing and tickling him, much to Scorpius’s delight since it now means he has a reprieve from the terribly healthy breakfast. "Just read it," she says, her tone deceptively light.

Curious, Draco flips the Prophet over.

His stomach does a somersault when his eyes land on the headline of the front page. "HARRY POTTER RETURNS WITH NEW LOVE?"

"Nearly two years after his sudden departure from Britain, Potter was seen entering his last known address in central London in the company of another man. Although the country is thrilled for the return of the Boy Who Lived, questions regarding where he has been in the last two years, as well as the identity of his mysterious new paramour, remain unanswered…"

Below the headline, which engulfs nearly half the page, is an equally large photograph that shows Harry unlocking the door to his flat in Hampstead. Behind him is a plain dark haired man who seems to be in the middle of telling a joke, because Harry tosses his head back in laughter a moment later, exposing his beautiful long dark neck.

They’re holding hands.

"Da!"

Draco automatically lifts his head and smiles at his son waving his fat little arms at him, even as he feels an icy hand clench his heart. "Yes, it is quite exciting that Harry Potter is back, isn’t it?" he tells Scorpius.

Scorpius claps his hands and giggles in response. Astoria lowers him back down into his high chair and gives Draco a meaningful look that could cut through diamond.

Hermione Granger had given Draco the same look two years ago when she found him banging on the door to Harry’s flat, only her eyes were sharpened by loathing. "Where is he?" Draco had asked, bringing his hand up to his, at the time, flat stomach, driven by the urge to protect the vulnerable life growing inside of him.

"Harry’s not in the country anymore," she told him curtly. "And if you think I’m going to tell you where he is after what you did, then you’re really not as smart as I thought you were."

Draco remembered physically reeling back as her words cut into him like knives. For a long time, he did not respond, because what could he do? Deny the truth? Eventually, he swallowed his pride to do something he hadn’t done since the war.

He begged. "Please, I just need to talk to him for five minutes—to explain."

Granger folded her arms. "Give me one good reason why I should let you anywhere near him."

Because I made a mistake that I’m now trying to fix before it’s too late and, more importantly, because I’m fucking pregnant with his kid, Draco had wanted to scream. But he bit his tongue; the very thought of telling Harry’s friends that he was pregnant before Harry himself made his skin crawl. He swore he could almost hear a voice within him chant wrong, wrong, wrong!

He clenched his fists, digging his nails painfully into his skin. "I can’t tell you," he’d replied, his voice small. "But look, if I can just get a letter to him—"

But Granger was already turning away. "Listen, Malfoy, if you’d ever felt even an ounce of affection for Harry, then you’d leave him alone. He’s not in a good place right now and I promise having you waltz back into his life so suddenly won’t make it better. I’ll tell Harry you’ve been by and if he wants to see you then he will, but it’s not your decision."

So Draco reluctantly returned to the manor and waited for Harry to come back to him, because that was what Harry always did. He waited through the week-long row between himself and his father after he was forced to tell his parents the truth. He waited through the following months of sickness and layering his body with spells to hide his pregnancy.

He waited right up to Scorpius’s birth, which took place in the manor with Astoria, the Malfoys, and the family healer—who had been sworn into an Unbreakable Vow—present. Astoria’s parents arrived the next day, having been told that their youngest daughter had gone into labour earlier that morning and already given birth just before their arrival. To this day, they’re still blissfully unaware of their grandson’s true parentage.

Draco gave up on waiting for Harry after that. It wasn’t just because it hurt too much to continue hoping when it was painfully obvious that Harry had moved on by that point, but also because he had a son to look after.

So that was what he did: he spent the next few months making Scorpius his priority. He doesn’t regret it, of course, since he was already in love with Scorpius when he was no more than the size of a bean and now knows, without any doubt in his mind, that he won’t hesitate to die or even kill for his child. But the daunting realization that he had driven Harry away for good still lingers like a shadow.

"Well?" says Astoria.

Draco meets her gaze calmly. "Well, what?"

"You know what I mean. What are you going to do about Potter now?"

Draco doesn’t answer but, as he returns his attention to feeding Scorpius, he knows there is really only one thing he can do. No matter what happens afterwards, he needs to tell Harry about his son—their son.

Ultimately, Draco leaves Scorpius with Astoria when he goes to see Harry the next day. Ever the Slytherin, Astoria suggested that having Scorpius with him would give Draco more ammunition but Draco knows the absolute last thing he wants to do is treat his son the way he had been treated. Merlin knows, he still loves his father dearly but there are some things that he will never forget, even if they have been forgiven.

To be honest, he doesn’t quite know what he wants the outcome of his meeting with Harry to be. No, that’s a lie; he knows what he wants, but he also knows his desires aren’t exactly realistic.

He exhales when he reaches the top of the stoop, steeling himself for whatever might come next. He raises his fist and knocks on the door—three sharp raps—then waits.

Fortunately, it’s not Harry’s new boyfriend who answers the door.

Unfortunately, it’s Harry himself—beautiful, perfect Harry. His black-as-night hair is longer now, long enough for him to pull it back into a style Pansy refers to as a ‘man bun’, and he is well on his way to a five o’clock shadow. Normally, Draco despises scruff on any man but Harry is, as always, an exception.

He’s filled out more since the last time Draco saw him; his shoulders are wider and his chest looks firmer beneath his grey short-sleeved shirt. Draco’s eyes flicker to his arms and his cheeks heat up as his traitorous mind invokes a particularly pleasant memory of being fucked against a wall in the room Harry had booked at Claridge for his eighteenth birthday, with those golden brown arms holding Draco up like he was as light as a feather.

In contrast, Draco still hasn’t quite lost all the weight he gained during his pregnancy. He was never very self-conscious about it, though. Rather than seeing his now soft round stomach as something to get rid of as quickly as possible, he sees it as something to be proud of, solid proof that Scorpius is his.

Well, his and Harry’s, that is.

"Malfoy." Harry crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. His expression is painfully blank, although his eyes have narrowed slightly. "What do you want?" his voice is cold and sharp as nails. The last time Harry directed this tone at Draco was when they were still at Hogwarts. Before the beginning of the war, before the end of the war, before they shook hands and began to tentatively build a friendship of sorts over the ruins of Hogwarts. Before the first time Harry took Draco back to his flat and slept with him less than a month after the end of the war.

Before Draco broke off their relationship.

Draco sucks in a breath and clenches his fists, steadying himself. "I need to speak with you," he says, casting a glance over his shoulders for any hint of a Prophet journalist lurking about in the nearby bushes, "in private." Judging by how Harry doesn’t even react, Draco suspects he probably strengthened his wards after yesterday’s article.

"Where’s your boyfriend?" he asks, both as a way to stall and because he really doesn’t think it’ll be appropriate for the other father of his child to have his current boyfriend present when his former school-rival-turned-friend-turned-fuck-buddy drops the news that he’s been a father for the past year and a half.

Harry’s nostrils flare and Draco knows that was the wrong thing to say. "Not that my relationships are any of your business anymore—which I think were the exact words you used as well—but he’s not here." He steps back and deliberately places his hand on the doorknob. "Well? Was that all you came here for?"

"No, I—" Draco exhales shakily. "Before—when you left, did Granger tell you—"

"That you came by wanting to talk? Yeah, what of it?" Harry interrupts impatiently.

While Draco is no longer self-centered enough to expect Harry to be polite to him, the other man’s dismissal still stings. "You didn’t come," he says, unable to hide some of the hurt in his voice.

"What for? You made it quite clear that our relationship was over and I had already left the country by then. I didn’t see any point in coming back."

Draco will never admit that hearing Harry actually say that hurts more than his Sectumsempra wounds ever did. He responds the only way he knows how: by lashing out, "Oh, so sorry to be an inconvenience to the fucking Boy Who Lived." As predicted, Harry still flinches at the title that’s haunted him for nearly twenty years. "Maybe I should put an ad in the Prophet next time!"

"That’s rich, coming from you," Harry snarls, leaning forward. "I thought I was supposed to be the inconvenience, remember? What was it you called me? Something about me being the only thing standing between you and your perfect life with a wife, two-point-five pure-blood kids, and a white picket fence?" His tense shoulders loosen only fractionally. "Speaking of which, I guess I should congratulate you on the kid. Your parents must be so proud that it’s a boy." The sarcasm drips like venom.

And just like that, Draco’s anger evaporates, leaving him hollow. Damn it, he didn’t come here to start a fight. "That’s what I wanted to talk to you about back then," he says quietly.

"Why the hell would I care about any kid of yours, Malfoy?"

Draco bristles. Logically, he knows Harry doesn’t mean anything by it but Draco’s also the kind of father who would (and has, in fact) hex anyone who dares to say anything negative about his child while he’s within earshot. He takes another deep breath before replying, "Because he’s yours, too."

There, he’s said it and can’t take it back now.

He watches Harry carefully and can practically see the gears in his head turning furiously as he processes the information. His eyes widen and his jaw drops. Despite the severity of the situation, Draco can’t help taking some vindictive pleasure in shocking him. "But you’re—"

"Trans, I know. That doesn’t mean I still don’t have the bits to make a baby, whether it’s with a wizard or a witch, as you might remember. The Greengrasses made sure that Astoria and I had the means to reproduce before they even looked at the marriage contract."

"But you told me—"

"That my ability to have a child without magical aid was a one in a million chance? Especially since I started transitioning when I was a child? Yeah, I thought so too but apparently your Potter genes laugh in the face of those kind of words, which, in hindsight, I really shouldn’t be surprised at."

"I—" Harry sputters.

"Harry?"

Draco whips around with his hand above his wand but drops it when he recognizes the curly-haired man behind him. It’s Harry’s ‘mysterious new paramour’ and he’s holding a couple of Muggle shopping bags.

"Uh, hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet," says the man in a thick Australian accent, giving Draco a genuinely pleasant smile. Try as Draco does, he can’t detect any malice in it whatsoever. "My name’s Mark. And you are?"

Two decades of pureblood etiquette kick in, forcing Draco to paste on his most charming smile. "Draco, Draco Malfoy." He shakes the other man’s hand. "A pleasure."

"Draco, huh? I think Harry’s mentioned you a few times—"

"And now he’s leaving," Harry announces gruffly.

Draco’s instincts tell him that he should probably do as Harry says—he’s pushed his luck enough as it is. But he can’t help looking back at Harry one last time. "You can see him, you know—at the Manor. Whenever you want."

Harry blinks in surprise, like he hadn’t expected this at all, which is ridiculous. Even if Draco isn’t still in lov—even if Draco doesn’t have any more feelings for Harry, he would never try to keep him from his child.

Astoria and Narcissa had argued about whether informing Harry of his fatherhood was a wise choice, since they all know that if Harry wants to, he can very easily gain sole custody of Scorpius. But Draco knows that Harry is too noble for that no matter how much he might hate Draco now. It’s the only thing he’s absolutely sure of.

"I…" Harry trails off with a frustrated sigh and brushes his hair back with both hands. Draco swallows, recalling its softness with perfect clarity. "Just give me some time." It sounds like a plea.

Draco nods and, even though it pains him to do so, Disapparates.

An unfamiliar barn owl arrives later that evening, just before dinner, and Draco knows, before he even unties the letter, that it’s from Harry.

Malfoy,

I’ll be at the Manor 10am tomorrow.

Harry

It’s short and rude but Draco supposes he can’t begrudge Harry that. He looks up from the letter when he hears Scorpius babbling in toddlerspeak, waving his toy dragon at him from where he’s leaning precariously over his playpen in the corner of Draco’s study. Draco laughs and bends down to kiss his son’s forehead. "Guess what, my love? We have a special visitor tomorrow. And he’s very excited to meet you."

Scorpius grins at him like it’s the best news he’s ever heard in his short life.

At five to ten, a house elf approaches Draco as he is finishing his breakfast. "Mr. Harry Potter is here, sir," she announces.

"Thank you, Mira" says Draco. He hefts Scorpius out of his high chair and sets him down on the ground. "Tell him we’ll be there shortly."

The time it takes to get to the entrance hall from the dining room is usually no more than a minute, but, as Draco recently discovered, trying to coax a toddler into walking in a straight line just might be one of the most challenging things he’s ever done. When they arrive at the hall a couple minutes later, Draco can see that Harry’s agitated.

He has his back turned to them, focusing intently on the portraits of Draco and Scorpius’s ancestors on the opposite wall and tapping out a quick, uneven rhythm with his worn black leather boots. He’s wearing a light brown jacket and a faded pair of jeans that Draco vaguely recognizes. "Harry?"

Harry whips around so quickly that Draco swears he can hear the other man’s neck crack. Draco’s body tenses when his eyes land on Scorpius. Although he had been confident Harry wouldn’t do anything as cruel as outright reject Scorpius, he’s still nervous for what will happen next. Right now, he has no idea what Harry is thinking and that frightens him.

He tries to look at Scorpius through Harry’s eyes. At first glance, it’s no wonder that Draco and Astoria have been easily passing him off as their child. His black hair might be a shade darker than Astoria’s rich chestnut brown but that in itself isn’t suspicious. His grey eyes are identical to Draco’s, though Draco has seen them turn into a pale jade green in the sun, and his skin is as pale as his father’s—the one who gave birth to him, that is. But, Draco privately thinks, his small round nose and heart-shaped lips are all Harry’s.

After a few moments, a small, tentative smile appears on Harry’s face and he slowly approaches Draco. He kneels down in front of Scorpius, who is now clutching Draco’s hand tightly and hiding behind his leg, watching Harry with wide grey eyes. "Hey," says Harry, his voice soft and gentle and full of nervousness. "My name’s Harry, I’m your—just Harry. And you are?"

Scorpius briefly looks up at Draco, who gives him a nod of permission, before taking a hesitant step towards Harry. He points to himself and solemnly replies, "I’m Scor’pus."

Draco has to look away when Harry beams at their son. He remembers when Harry used to direct those smiles at him as well. "What’s that?" Scorpius asks.

It’s then that Draco notices the package in Harry’s arms for the first time. Harry holds it out, almost as shy as Scorpius is. "It’s a present. For you," he says.

Scorpius’s eyes widen in delight and he reaches for it with greedy hands, which Harry is more than happy to fill. Draco bends down to take a closer look at the box, which features a wide array of geometric animals under the words Lego Duplo. "What’s this?" he asks Harry curiously.

"Muggle toy building blocks." Harry’s soft gaze turns defiant when he meets Draco’s eyes. "You don’t have a problem with that, right?"

"Considering Astoria and I did seriously consider using a combination of Muggle science and magic to have a child of our own, I’d say I don’t. And I haven’t for a long time," Draco answers dryly, folding his arms over his chest.

Harry blinks, clearly taken aback by the admission. A moment later, he nods. "Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. That was uncalled for of me." He genuinely looks ashamed, too.

The sting of Harry’s silent accusation fades away, leaving Draco with the realization that neither he nor Harry are children anymore and they should probably start acting like the adults they claim to be. He sighs, shaking his head. "Don’t worry about it," he says, offering Harry a small smile.

Scorpius tugs his trousers and lifts up the box, shaking it roughly. "Wanna play," he demands.

"Did you say thank you to Harry for your gift?"

Scorpius turns back to Harry with a bright smile. "Thank you, ‘Arry."

Harry’s eyes grow soft again as he drinks in the sight of his son, like he can never get enough of him. "You’re very welcome, Scorpius."

Any remaining doubts Draco might have regarding Harry’s role in Scorpius’s life instantly disappear. He knows then that Harry, much like himself, would die for Scorpius.

"Let’s move to the small living room," Draco suggests, reluctantly interrupting the moment.

In Draco’s opinion, there is no such thing as a ‘natural parent’. Raising children, like magic, is a skill that takes time to learn and develop. But, as he watches Harry patiently and enthusiastically play with Scorpius, Draco has to admit that parenting suits Harry. He doesn’t try to monopolize all of Scorpius’s play time like Draco’s seen some parents and grandparents do (his mother-in-law being one of them), instead, he’s content to sit back and simply watch Scorpius play alone whenever the toddler gets distracted, only joining in when it seems like Scorpius won’t mind.

Draco spends most of the morning trying to ignore the lovely ache blooming in his chest at the sight of the two of them together.

Lunch arrives far too quickly, which is followed by naptime. Harry lingers by the doorway to Scorpius’s room while Draco tucks him into bed, carefully arranging his stuffed animals around him like a fortress. He gestures for Harry to follow him back to the small living room once he’s closed the door behind him.

"Tea?" Draco asks, gesturing to the tea set that the house elves conveniently left for them earlier.

"You sure you don’t want me to get going?" Harry asks, though he does grab a cup for himself. Three sugars and one milk—some things never change.

"Only if you do," says Draco delicately, taking a sip from his cup. "I told you, you’re welcome to visit Malfoy Manor whenever you want. Scorpius is yours, too. I wouldn’t—I’d never try to keep him away from you."

"And yet you didn’t think to tell me about him for two years." Harry’s voice is quiet but the hurt and bitterness in his words rings loudly like bells.

Draco had been wondering when they’d finally get around to this. "It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you," he says, "I simply thought it would be inappropriate to let your friends know before you did and it seemed too...big of a matter to put in a letter. In hindsight, I realize that was not a very smart decision."

Harry blinks in surprise and some of his indignation from earlier is gone. "Yeah, you’re right, you should’ve told me," he begins, "but I can see where you’re coming from."

"You’re taking your newfound fatherhood awfully well," says Draco after a moment of awkward silence. "To be honest, I was prepared for more fussing about whether or not I was telling the truth about Scorpius. I was even expecting a demand for a paternity test."

"That’s because you weren’t there to witness my panic," Harry replies, smirking. "Once I calmed down a bit, I did some research. Well, more like I got Hermione to do some research. She found Scorpius’s birth certificate in the Ministry archives and…I was listed as the other parent, not Astoria." He swallows. "His middle name is James."

"That’s correct."

"How has nobody figured it out yet? I mean, it’s public information and Hermione was able to find it right away."

"Because, before we sent it down to the archives, my parents put a spell on the document; anyone looking for it with ill intent would see Astoria’s name as the other parent instead of yours."

Harry sits back and nods. "That makes sense." He bites his bottom lip and his gaze turns steely, challenging. "How does she feel about him, by the way? Astoria, I mean."

Draco smiles. "She doesn’t mind. In fact, she’s more than happy with the arrangement we currently have. That is, to continue the pretence that Scorpius is our biological child." He takes another fortifying sip of his tea before continuing. "As...As you know, our marriage is not one based on love; it was arranged by our parents. Although Astoria had been resigned to the fact that she was expected to bear children one day, it wasn’t something she was looking forward to when we got married. It’s still something she doesn’t have any intention of going through herself."

"But you both still went through with what your parents wanted anyway," says Harry through gritted teeth. His teacup begins to shake.

Harry is right. After several intense, wonderful months of stolen kisses in Diagon Alley, dates in various spots around Muggle London, and both quiet and not-so-quiet nights at Grimmauld Place, Lucius told Draco in no uncertain terms that he was to marry Astoria Greengrass before the year was out. And Draco had told Harry the same.

When Harry argued that he couldn’t possibly still feel like he had to do every single thing his parents wanted, Draco retorted that they’d only really known each other for a few months, which certainly wasn’t enough time for either of them to know whether or not they were compatible for the long term. And besides, he’d added harshly, he could actually have a family—a future—with Astoria and that was what mattered the most in the end.

At least that was what Draco tried to tell himself as he watched Harry turn on his heels and storm away. For the weeks leading up to the wedding, he mentally repeated the mantra that he’d done the right thing for both himself and his family while desperately trying to ignore the numbness gradually spreading in his chest, as if his heart had been hollowed out by a rusty spoon.

The Cruciatus Curse was less painful than that.

Draco doesn’t look away from Harry’s accusatory green eyes. As painful as it is to be trapped in Harry’s intense gaze, Draco owes it to him to meet him halfway. "We did. Shortly after our wedding, we approached the Malfoy family healer to discuss our options, specifically as how they pertained to me. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that I was already pregnant."

Harry snorts. "To be a fly on the wall of that conversation," he mutters.

Draco grins wryly at him. "Astoria adores Scorpius now and, for all intents and purposes, she is his mother in every way but blood, though blood doesn’t mean much these days."

"Does anyone else know about Scorpius?"

"Only my parents and our healer. If you have a look at the corner by the piano, you might still be able to find burn marks from one of the many spectacular rows my father and I had regarding whether or not I should keep Scorpius."

Harry frowns. "You...You were thinking of abortion?"

"My father was but I told him to stuff it and accept that I was going to have your son. He tried to appeal to Astoria but with obviously no success. Astoria’s parents still think Scorpius is their real grandson and she’s more than happy to let them continue thinking that if it means not being pressured to actually give birth herself." Draco snorts. "I don’t regret having Scorpius, of course, but I personally think she got the better end of the deal."

"Was it painful?"

"Childbirth?" Draco grins. "More than you can imagine." Although he’d rather wipe those nine excruciating hours of labour from his mind with an Obliviate, Draco finds himself smiling involuntarily at the memory of holding Scorpius after he was born. It was worth it. "I don’t regret it, though. If I had to do it all over again, I would."

Harry sucks in a breath and looks down at his tea, in an effort to either put his long forgotten Divination skills to the test or have something to do that doesn’t involve looking at Draco. Draco rather suspects it’s the second but doesn’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing. He knows there are some things that he can’t take back but he’s trying to make up for them now with the truth. The rest is up to Harry.

"Why did you keep him then? You said that you and Astoria had already been looking at other options…" Harry’s voice trails off.

"Honestly, those ‘other options’ didn’t appeal to me at all once I learned I was already pregnant. And I...I didn’t want to give him up. By then, I already saw Scorpius as a part of me." He gulps, "And a part of you, too."

Harry doesn’t say anything and simply bites his lower lip, contemplating.

"He’s got your hair, you know," Draco says suddenly, softly. "And my mother says his colouring will start to look more like yours as he gets older."

Harry gives him a small but genuine smile. "I feel sorry for him, then. No one should have to endure looking like me."

Before Draco can do anything stupid like vehemently object to that statement, Harry rises from his seat. "I should get going. When d’you want me to come by next?"

Draco stands as well. "You’re free to come by whenever you want." He quirks his lips into a wry grin. "Since Astoria splits her time between her friends and volunteer work, it seems that I’ve automatically been relegated the role of the stay-at-home father."

"You’ve certainly done a great job with Scorpius," Harry tells him sincerely. He brings up a hand to rub the back of his neck, a sure sign that he has something on his mind. "But what I mean is...what about your parents? Are they alright with me being here?"

"My parents live in the West Wing while Astoria, Scorpius and I have taken the East Wing. There is very little chance of you ever running into them but even if you do, you are my guest and, more importantly, you’re their grandson’s father. Not even my father would try to stop you from seeing him. Or if he does, let me know and I’ll be sure to speak with him."

Draco takes it as a victory when, after leading Harry back to the entrance, Harry turns around and holds out his hand for him to shake. "So I’ll see you both tomorrow then? Same time?"

Harry’s dark calloused hand is warm in Draco’s smooth pale one. "Of course. See you then."

As promised, Harry comes by the Manor at exactly ten o’clock the next day, this time bearing a much larger package containing what Draco soon learns is a plastic miniature Muggle car. Although it is unremarkable in every way—it doesn’t even fly!—Scorpius is enamored with it and spends practically the entire morning ‘driving’ the red and yellow contraption around the grounds with his tiny, chubby legs, babbling excitedly and squealing in delight whenever Harry pushes him.

"You’ll be spoiling him rotten if you continue at this rate," Draco points out after they have tucked a thankfully exhausted Scorpius into bed for his nap and moved into the small living room for tea.

He’s aware that it’s quite a bold, ironic statement for him to make.

Harry shrugs nonchalantly but Draco doesn’t miss the way his shoulders tense for a fraction of a second. "Yeah, well, I didn’t really get any presents when I was growing up and even though I know Scorpius’s situation isn’t anything like mine, I just...I feel like I owe it to him." He blushes. "I mean—not that it’s an obligation or anything like that. I’m happy to buy him presents, obviously. But I feel like I need to make up for lost time."

"You don’t have to—"

"Maybe not, but I want to." Harry puts his teacup down and looks wistfully outside the window. "You know, when I first realized that I wasn’t straight, I was...disappointed."

Draco swallows around the lump in his throat; he’s heard this story before, but doesn’t dare interrupt.

"Ever since I started going to Hogwarts—since I met the Weasleys, really—I started wondering what it would be like to have a family of my own. I mean, I still have the Weasleys, even if things didn’t work out between me and Ginny, and I have Teddy and Andy as well, but it’s not the same as having someone related to you." Harry sighs and brushes his hair back with his hand, then turns to Draco with pleading eyes. "Does that make me a bad person? I mean, you said it yourself—blood doesn’t really mean anything when it comes to family. Hell, I already experienced it firsthand."

Draco has to look away. "You’re not a bad person," he says, quietly but firmly. "It’s natural to want to have your own children, regardless of whatever situation you’re in. Anyone with eyes can clearly see that you love your adopted family. Becoming a parent isn’t going to—hasn’t changed that." It will be a cold day in hell if Harry ever abandons his chosen family, even if it is for his son. "The love you have for the Weasleys, for instance, obviously won’t be the same as the...the love you have for Scorpius but that doesn’t mean you care for one more than the other. It’s just...different."

Draco can swear he can feel his heart melt at the warm smile Harry gives him and it’s all he can do to remain upright in his seat. "Thanks, I really needed to hear that," says Harry. He chuckles. "I don’t remember you ever being this...open before. You used to say feelings give you rashes."

"I suppose parenthood does that to you," says Draco. It’s true, though. Two years ago, when Harry first told this story to him while the two of them were sharing a bottle of Ogden’s in Harry’s flat, Draco hadn’t been able to respond. Instead, he’d plucked the bottle from Harry’s hand and kissed him deeply. It hadn’t been the first time they had sex on the floor, nor was it the last.

"Either way," says Harry, "I feel like I’ve missed so much of Scorpius’s life already." He shrugs and shoots Draco a self-deprecating grin. "I just want to catch up, really."

Draco stirs his tea guiltily. Meanwhile, a plan begins to form in his mind.

"After you put him down for his nap, come to my office. I have something to show you," Draco tells Harry on his sixth visit.

Harry lifts an eyebrow at him but nods. "Alright."

He had been utterly terrified when Draco offered to let him tuck Scorpius into bed on his third visit, stuttering about how he didn’t know if he could even do it properly. Draco had rolled his eyes and replied, "For Merlin’s sake, Harry, he’s not even two years old yet. Just pop him into bed and read a few lines from one of his picture books if he really doesn’t want to settle down. I’ll even be at the door if you want."

And that had been that. After putting Scorpius down for his nap that first time, Harry insisted on doing so at every visit, supposedly so that Draco could have some time to himself. Draco never bothered to tell him he didn’t need it, especially not after he witnessed the look of incredible happiness on Harry’s face as he read The Tales of Beedle the Bard to their son. Their son.

"What did you want to show me?" Harry asks as he steps into the small office, shutting the door behind them. He drops down on the sofa and plucks a sandwich from the tea set the house elves had prepared, having become accustomed to the routine of sitting and chatting with Draco for a bit during each visit before leaving. Surprisingly, after the tense conversation in his first visit, neither of them have hexed the other yet.

Draco waves his wand and the Pensieve he recently won at an auction drifts out from his cabinet. He takes out a small wooden chest from one of his desk drawers and opens it, revealing two tightly packed rows of labelled vials. He takes the first one out and opens it, pouring its misty white content into the Pensieve.

Harry raises his eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"Why don’t you find out?" Draco smirks, inviting Harry to stand with an overly wide sweep of his arm.

Harry rolls his eyes but gets up anyway, stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Draco normally despises terrible manners but he’s beginning to find, to his horror, that Harry has the unique ability to endear himself to Draco with very little effort.

"Are you coming in with me?" Harry asks, watching Draco from the opposite side of the Pensieve.

Draco shrugs. "If you want."

"I do."

Draco nods. "Very well, on three. One...two…"

They plunge into the memory at the same time, both of them landing on their feet in a dreary grey room. The mist swirls around them like a tornado and the grey room soon begins to expand and grow brighter, until it becomes clear that they’re in one of the Manor’s many, many bedrooms.

Harry’s eyes travel around the room curiously before finally landing on the bed in the middle, surrounded by the familiar figures of Lucius, Narcissa, and Astoria Malfoy. He does a double take when he catches sight of the bed’s occupant and whips his head in Draco’s direction, eyes wide with shock. "Is that—"

"Oh, he’s beautiful, Draco. And he looks just like you," memory-Narcissa exclaims.

"Yes, at least there won’t be any need for awkward explanations regarding the child’s parentage," sniffs memory-Lucius. Despite his words, Draco can hear the love in his father’s voice. He was, and still is, just as smitten with Scorpius as the rest of the family, even if he hasn’t quite mastered the art of showing it yet.

"I took the liberty of sparing you from the…gorier parts of this memory," explains Draco, grimacing. He beckons Harry to move closer to the bed.

Harry follows as if in a trance. He lets out a gasp when he finally gets a good view of memory-Draco; specifically, an exhausted and sweaty memory-Draco cradling a red-faced and crying newborn Scorpius.

As this is his memory, Draco doesn’t bother to watch the scene play out in front of him. Instead, he focuses on Harry, whose eyes are riveted on his son. "He’s so small," Harry whispers, his voice full of wonder. "Wow, I can’t believe this is really Scorpius. He looks nothing like he is now." Harry reaches out as if to touch Scorpius but his hand predictably passes through the baby.

Draco winces as heartbreaking disappointment briefly passes through Harry’s face. "I know this isn’t much," he begins, gently squeezing Harry’s arm. "But I remember you saying you felt like you’d missed so much of Scorpius’s life already and while that isn’t true, I...I hope that this will help. I can give you the rest of the memories when you leave today."

Harry finally tears his gaze away from Scorpius, who is now being tended to by the Malfoy healer in the memory. "Draco, I—this is very generous of you, thank you."

For one moment, Draco forgets to breathe as he finds himself on the receiving end of a watery smile from Harry. "N-No problem," he manages to say. "It’s the least I could do, really."

Harry is different—that’s easy to see. Then again, so is Draco.

Despite all the differences, the man that Draco fell in love with two years ago is still recognizable. He’s still the same, big-hearted idiot who rescues Kneazles from trees (well, he would, if there were any to be rescued) but in possession of sharper edges now. Draco knows, from what little Harry told him about his relatives and Dumbledore and what he’s pieced together himself, that Harry has a much harder time trusting people now than he had before. He’s also less patient, less willing to endure other people’s bullshit.

As for Draco, it seems that he went through the opposite transformation. Aside from the physical changes that come with age, he’s gone through some emotional ones as well; "consequences of marriage and parenthood," Astoria had told him once, fondly. It’s true enough, he supposes, especially when one has a toddler they’re trying to raise to one day become a healthy, functioning adult. He’s calmer and more soft spoken, and able to see the bigger picture now instead of relying on the half-truths he grew up on as his foundation. The more he thinks about the cruel bully that shared his name when he was at school, the less he recognizes him.

Even if Draco can discount their shared history, by all rights, he and Harry really shouldn’t be able to get along as well as they’ve been doing recently. They are polar opposites in many ways, their differences further tempered by the emotional upheaval Draco was responsible for two years ago. Draco will readily admit that they probably wouldn’t even be on speaking terms now if it weren’t for Scorpius, but he still finds it frighteningly easy to fall back into the familiar rhythms of friendship.

Worse, he’s falling in love with Harry all over again.

"Bonfire Night with the Weasleys’?" Draco asks, shocked.

When Harry said he wanted to ask him something, this was the last thing Draco expected. "Yeah, and Andy and Teddy," Harry replies, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I mean, that’s if you don’t already have plans, but I’d really like it if you and Scorpius came. The park by my neighbourhood does fireworks for free." Scorpius pokes his head up from under the table at the sound of his name and Harry makes a silly face at him, prompting a giggle from their son before he goes back to playing with his Legos.

Draco’s heart soars at the words "you and Scorpius," but quickly tamps it down before he can make a fool of himself. "Well, we were planning on seeing it anyway but I suppose the location really doesn’t matter," he says carefully.

Before he and Astoria got married, Draco never actually celebrated Bonfire Night. His parents didn’t see the point in watching Muggle fireworks to celebrate a historical Muggle event. After their wedding, however, Astoria introduced Draco to a number of traditions she’d grown up with, including going to the nearest town on the evening of November fifth to watch the fireworks. They had to leave Scorpius at home the year he was born but they were planning on bringing him with them this year.

"Actually, could Astoria come, too?" Draco asks suddenly before his brain can catch up to the words coming out of his mouth. He grimaces; although Astoria and Harry’s handful of encounters at the Manor have been brief and courteous, it’ll be nothing compared to spending a few hours in the outdoors together while being surrounded by the intimidating Weasley clan.

But Harry, as always, surprises him. "Of course, she is Scorpius’s mum, after all."

At that, Draco realizes that there is a name Harry hasn’t mentioned yet. In fact, that name has been suspiciously absent from all their conversations since Harry found out about Scorpius. "What about Mark?" he asks, carefully keeping his voice neutral.

Harry looks bemused. "Mark? Why would I—oh, I guess I forgot to tell you he’s back in Australia. Actually, he went back about two weeks ago."

"And you’re not upset?" It takes a great deal of effort for Draco to mask how pleased he is by the news, even if Harry doesn’t seem to care at all. He tries not to get his hopes up too much.

Their conversation is briefly interrupted when Scorpius waddles over to Harry with his arms outstretched, making demanding noises to be picked up. Harry smiles like it’s the greatest honour he’s ever been bestowed with, nevermind the Order of Merlin currently gathering dust in the back of his closet, and does exactly that, settling Scorpius comfortably in his lap.

"Nah, not really. Mark was only ever a fling for me and vice versa. He tagged along when I left Australia so he could visit some family of his." Harry cocks his head at Draco, his eyes turning thoughtful. "Why do you care so much anyway? You only met Mark once."

"I don’t," lies Draco. At Harry’s skeptical eyebrow raise, he amends, "Or, well, I do care, but it’s only really because I thought he was someone important to you and therefore, someone whose presence would affect Scorpius in some way." It’s not the full truth, obviously, but at least it isn’t a lie.

"Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore. Being a single father in your early twenties is apparently a turnoff to most people in the same age group."

Draco decides to blame what he says next to the lack of sleep he had last night. "Well, it’s not a turnoff for me, especially since I’m a single father myself." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, however, Draco wants to slap himself.

Harry chuckles and shakes his head in a mix of fondness and exasperation for Draco (or so he hopes). "We should start a society of our own: single magical fathers united."

"As long as we won’t actually have to call it SMFU," says Draco, shuddering as he recalls the story Harry once told him about Hermione Granger and SPEW.

This time, Harry laughs and leans over to pat Draco on the back. "Don’t worry, I won’t," he promises, his green eyes twinkling with mischief and something else Draco is too afraid to name.

After checking to make sure that Harry is alright with it, Draco convinces his mother to join them at the last minute. While he knows that Astoria can easily hold her own against a pack of red-headed Gryffindors, Draco isn’t as confident about his own abilities, even with a small child as a buffer.

Although his mother and Andromeda Tonks have been corresponding by letters for years, neither of them had made the move to actually meet with the other until now. Harry’s group falls silent when the Malfoys approach them near the entrance to Hampstead Heath. The light, happy atmosphere around them grows heavy and solid with tension. It is momentarily punctuated by a loud group of Muggle teenagers passing by.

Narcissa is the first to move; she calmly hands Scorpius to Astoria and steps forward in the direction of a dark haired woman Draco has never seen before. The woman’s shoulders tense just before she does the same and walks towards her sister, meeting her in the middle between their two parties. "Andromeda," begins Narcissa. She swallows and licks her lips. "It’s...It’s really good to see you again. You look well."

Andromeda’s stony face gives nothing away and Draco can’t help holding his breath. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Harry doing the same. There’s a dark haired toddler by his side, whom Draco guesses is the infamous Teddy Lupin, watching the two women with wide watery eyes. It suddenly hits Draco how young the boy is, despite being aware of him for the past few years.

Eventually, Andromeda breaks the silence hanging over them like a veil with a soft chuckle. To Draco’s surprise, she reaches out and pulls Narcissa into a tight hug that her sister instantly returns. "It’s good to see you too, Cissy."

Afterwards, it’s slightly easier for the two parties to mingle, even if the conversations are terribly awkward and stilted. Granger is the first to approach Draco. "You were pregnant," she accuses, though she doesn’t sound nearly as angry as Draco expected.

He pats his stomach and nods towards Scorpius, whom Astoria and Harry are currently introducing to Teddy. "That’s generally how you have a child, yes," he says.

Granger snorts and rolls her eyes. "And you didn’t think you needed to tell Harry about it?"

"I tried, as I’m sure you remember."

"Yes, but you probably would’ve been more successful if you’d actually told me as well."

"I know," says Draco softly, visibly startling Granger with his admission. "I should’ve done things differently, I realize that, but I can’t take my choices back now."

Granger watches him for a long moment, biting her lower lip. Finally, she nods, looking satisfied with whatever conclusion she’s come to inside that mysterious, obnoxiously intelligent head of hers. "No, I guess not. The only thing to do now is to move forward, isn’t it?" She leans over to whisper in Draco’s ear, "But if you ever hurt Harry again, I’ll make you regret it."

Draco doesn’t doubt her for one second.

Aside from Granger, Weasley—Ron Weasley—is the only other person to approach Draco that evening. "Give them time," he says, jerking his head towards his family. "They’re still in a bit of a shock over...well, Scorpius’s existence, but they’ll come around. Speaking of which, watch out for Mum’s jumpers this Christmas."

Draco blinks. "You actually think she’ll make something for us?" He glances over at the woman in question. He doesn’t think they’ve ever exchanged a single word, even if they have crossed paths once or twice in Diagon Alley.

"Think? I know so," Weasley snorts. "You’re kind of part of the family now, you know?"

"And you’re alright with that?" Draco asks skeptically.

Weasley shrugs. "No, I wasn’t at first, but…" He pauses and lets out a deep breath. "You’re good for him, you know? You and Scorpius make him happy and honestly, that’s enough for me." He claps Draco’s shoulder as if they’re friends before moving away, leaving Draco flabbergasted.

The air between the Malfoy, Weasley, and Tonks clans is still far from easy but Draco is pleasantly surprised to see that there are no wands in sight. Over to his left, his mother and aunt have settled by the pond with their heads bent together in a whispered conversation; on his right, Astoria is chatting easily with Granger about the various charities they’re both involved in, with the Weasley girl listening and occasionally adding her thoughts; directly a few feet in front of Draco, the Weasley twin is entertaining Scorpius and Teddy with what Draco sincerely hopes are child-safe fireworks from his joke shop. Since none of the Muggles around them seem to be taking notice, Draco assumes that someone in the group had cast a Muggle-repelling charm earlier.

The remaining Weasleys are spread out in a strange circle chatting amicably with each other. Draco frowns when he realizes he can’t see Harry anywhere and is about to look for him when he feels a familiar hand pat his shoulder. He turns around to find Harry grinning at him. "Were Ron and Hermione giving you a hard time?"

Draco snorts and shakes his head. "Believe me, it’ll take more than that to shake me up," he replies. Going through nine hours of labour and living under the same roof as Voldemort for a year definitely beat that.

Harry smirks and playfully shoves him with his shoulder. "Come on, I want to show you something."

"The fireworks are going to start soon."

"Don’t worry, it’ll be quick." Harry starts to make his way to a foot trail that leads into a copse of trees.

Draco glances over his shoulder to check on Scorpius. He finds Scorpius just as his son trips over a small mound, landing on his knees. Before Draco can even move, Molly Weasley is already scooping his son up in her arms, cooing lovingly at him and making him giggle. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by Ron Weasley’s comment about his mother’s Christmas jumpers, with the way she’s quickly accepted Harry’s son into her life. After all, Scorpius is essentially her first grandson.

Astoria catches his eyes and winks at him, jerking her head towards Harry in a ‘go on’ gesture.

Draco blushes and shoots her a half-hearted glare before turning to follow after Harry, who has been patiently waiting for him. They walk side by side in silence for a few minutes, only occasionally interrupted by the sound of Muggles whooping in the distance. Finally, they seem to have reached the end of the trail because Harry stops and turns to Draco. "Ready?"

"Probably, I won’t know until you show me, will I?"

Harry smirks and gestures for Draco to follow him.

The first word that comes to Draco’s mind at the sight before them is ‘beautiful’. They’re standing on the edge of a large pond illuminated by multitudes of Christmas lights strung through the trees on their side, as well as those hanging from the row of Georgian houses across from them. At least two dozen little paper boats, each carrying a candle, drift on the pond, their small light adding to the tranquility of the scene. It reminds him of being ferried to Hogwarts in their first year. Even though this had all clearly been done by Muggles, it feels magical.

"That’s the house I want," Harry says quietly at his side, pointing at the shadowed house on the far left. "Once my lease is up, I’m going to buy it and have Andy and Teddy move in with me. Andy says Grimmauld Place is nice but it’s far too big for just the two of them. This place has an attic, basement, four toilets, and five bedrooms, so you and Scorpius can stay over any time instead of always putting up with me at the Manor." He turns to Draco with a wide grin, like a proud puppy. "What do you think?"

"I think it’s great," says Draco, and it’s the truth.

Harry doesn’t move away, though, and Draco’s mind doesn’t seem to be able to comprehend anything else except the fact that Harry smells really good tonight (like burnt wood, leather, and cinnamon) and his eyes are so, so green.

He doesn’t even think about it; he leans over and kisses Harry, soft and slow.

Harry freezes for a few seconds before pushing back to return the kiss. Draco instinctively wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, drawing him closer against his body. He shudders when Harry’s fingers ghost over his sides before settling possessively on his hips, pulling him in.

Kissing Harry is intoxicating and Draco mourns for every moment he’s spent the past two years not doing this. Draco has kissed plenty of other people before, including Astoria of course, but none of them compare to this. They had all just been tiny, insignificant sparks compared to the beautiful blazing fire that Harry has always somehow been able to ignite within him.

After what feels like an eternity but in reality must have only been less than a minute, Harry pushes Draco away, his face flushed and breaths erratic. "What are you doing?"

"I was kissing you, obviously."

Draco detects a brief flash of hurt in Harry’s eyes before the other man immediately walls it off. "Why?" he demands.

Draco straightens his back and looks him straight in the eyes. "Because I love you."

Harry’s throat bobs as he swallows nervously. For a long time, he doesn’t say anything. Then, "I’ve changed, you know. I’m not the person I was back then."

"So am I, but that doesn’t stop me from—from still wanting to be with you."

Harry’s breath hitches and he looks away.

Draco waits again. He’s realized in the past few weeks that there really isn’t much he won’t do for Harry and the knowledge doesn’t frighten him anymore. Or really, it still frightens him, but there is also an undercurrent of excitement that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Eventually, Harry’s eyes meet his again. "When you left me—it still hurts, you know, and it’s not something I can just forget."

Draco closes his eyes and nods. "I know," he says quietly, his breath shaky. "And I’ll always regret it, although I’m not sorry that I was able to get Scorpius out of the deal. But I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life proving that you can forgive me if I have to."

Harry shakes his head and his lips finally quirk into a small smile that makes Draco’s heart skip a beat. Maybe there is hope after all. "I’ve already forgiven you," he tells Draco without a single hint of a lie in his voice, just pure sincerity. "But," he says, frowning, "I can’t forget what happened. I...I don’t know what I’d do if you wanted to break this off again."

"I won’t," Draco says fiercely. "I know it isn’t easy for you to accept my word after what I did but...I’m asking you to please give me another chance. Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t, but I promise you, Harry, that I have no intention of leaving you."

Harry’s face remains terrifyingly neutral and Draco resists the urge to start biting his nails. Then, Harry shakes his head again. "God, you have no idea how much I’ve been wanting you since you first showed up at my doorstep last month."

"And you can have me," says Draco quickly, taking a bold step forward. When Harry doesn’t move away, Draco takes another until there is only a few inches between them. "All of me," he adds, taking Harry’s hand and squeezing it when the other man, encouragingly, doesn’t make a move to pull away.

"I...We’re going to have to talk about this at some point, but...I’ll hold you to that," replies Harry, breathless. "But what are we going to do now? About Scorpius, I mean," he asks. "Are we going to keep pretending that he’s yours and Astoria’s?"

Despite Harry’s nonchalant tone, Draco can easily detect the hesitation and lingering hurt in his voice. It’s painfully similar to how he sounded when Draco left him. "No, what we’re going to do is write a press release. And then we lock the Floo and block all incoming owls for the next month."

Harry looks at him in surprise and Draco knows what he’s thinking: one of the reasons Draco had given for leaving was the unwanted publicity that would follow. "You’d really do that? For me?"

"No," says Draco, grabbing his other hand and brushing his lips over the knuckles. "It’s not just you, it’s for our family." He kisses Harry again, because he can, and it feels like coming home.

Later, Draco honestly wouldn’t be able to recall even hearing the fireworks go off around them.