I just can’t stop thinking about James and Sirius and Remus in the afterlife, watching over Harry. And when he has his first child, James and Sirius are ecstatic that Harry chooses to name him after them. And Remus smiles benevolently and doesn’t say anything of course, but maybe feels just a tad left out. Sirius can tell and he pats him on the shoulder, saying, “Next time! You’ll see!”
And then next time arrives and what does Harry choose? Albus Severus. And Remus understands, and he’s really not upset. But Sirius is. Sirius just cannot believe that Harry would choose to name his son after Snivellus, the man who had made his godson’s and his own life miserable (so what if he loved Lily), before he honored Remus. Remus, who had been a mentor and friend to Harry. Remus, who had named Harry godfather of his own child. Remus, who was one of the best men Sirius had ever known despite having a childhood that was probably much shittier than Snape’s. Remus, who deserved to be honored by Harry every bit as much as Sirius did, and certainly a thousand times more than Snape.
And for the first time in his life, Sirius is truly disappointed in his godson. And he can’t even let Harry know. And he just has to live with this awful feeling for years and years, and nothing Remus says can make it any better.
Until one day Sirius notices something. He notices how there are always four kids at the Potter house. He’d always thought it was just Harry being nice because Andromeda was getting pretty old by now, but once he starts paying attention, he notices how every time Harry talks about “his kids,” that includes Teddy Lupin. How Teddy is in all of the Potter family portraits. How James, Al, and Lily refer to Teddy as their older brother.
And one day Sirius is watching as Teddy risks himself to save Albus from falling off his broom, and then proceeds to fuss over Al without once worrying about himself. And Harry runs over in a panic, and goes immediately to Teddy, who took most of the damage, checks that he’s basically alright, looks at him with tears in his eyes, and says “Teddy Remus Lupin, thank you. Thank you for saving Al. You are so much like your father.” And then he hugs him tightly and doesn’t let go for the longest time .
And Sirius’s anger evaporates just like that, and he looks over and sees that Remus has been watching too and now they are both silently crying as they watch Harry, their Harry, take care of two of his sons.
And it’s suddenly so obvious why Harry didn’t name his youngest son after Remus: because that was already the name of his oldest.
why don’t we talk about muslim kids in hogwarts during ramadan? imagine waking up at 3 every morning and walking down for suhoor, to find the house elves have prepared a feast for them. imagine the kids having an extended curfew, so they can go and eat iftar at 10, where the house elves once again provide a ten course meal, topped with dates and traditional delicacies from around the world. imagine the kids being allowed to go into the kitchens in the middle of the night if they were still in the mood to eat. imagine the kids being allowed to leave class to do their prayers, and spending lunch times to read the quran. we need to talk more about muslim kids in hogwarts.
“Um, Malfoy,” Harry muttered. “What are you doing?” Baffled, he looked at the Slytherin, who didn’t seem to be concerned at all.
“I’m resting. I’m so tired,” Malfoy mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut. He did sound pretty sleepy. Harry blinked as Malfoy’s lips stretched into a soft, contented smile.
“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “But why are you resting on my lap?”
“Why not?” Malfoy replied. “Seems like a good place to me.”
Harry stiffened as Malfoy turned his head and snuggled into him. What was he playing at?
“Oi, Harry!” Harry looked up. Seamus had just entered the eighth year common room and was grinning at him. “Don’t you two look cosy,” he said with a wink. Harry blushed and tried to move his legs but Malfoy was just too heavy.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Harry murmured. What had gotten into Malfoy?
“And then we have to get started on Transfiguration but first we have to- Oh!” Hermione stopped dead behind Seamus. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her, her studying schedule obviously forgotten. If only momentarily. Ron, who had seemed rather displeased with his girlfriend’s evening plans a second ago, suddenly had a weird glint in his eyes.
Harry watched his friends and was shocked when Hermione clutched her chest and put her other hand on Ron’s arm. He smiled at her and nodded.
“I thought something like this might happen,” he snickered.
“What?” Harry spluttered. When Pansy came into sight, a knowing grin on her face, Harry felt like they were all in on a joke he didn’t get. “Can somebody please tell me what is going on?”
“Shhhhh,” came from Harry’s lap. “Trying to sleep here, remember?”
Harry eyed Malfoy suspiciously. He had to admit, he might have reacted a little differently if they had been alone. It was a bit sudden, but he wasn’t all that opposed to Malfoy lying on his lap.
Harry’s eyes darted to his friends again when Hermione leaned over to Pansy and whispered something to her. Looking exasperated, Pansy nodded. Harry still wasn’t used to the fact that they were all getting along so well now. Pansy could be fun but, still, Harry was a bit wary around her.
He kept his eyes on her as Hermione strode over to him.
“Don’t be mad,” she told him. Harry frowned.
“What did you do?”
“Well…” She looked at him sheepishly. “It’s more what I didn’t do.”
Harry looked at her, puzzled. She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice to a whisper.
“I didn’t stop Pansy, when she stole something from Slughorn’s personal stores and put it into Malfoy’s tea this morning.”
Harry’s frown deepened.
“What did she put in his tea?”
Hermione bit her lip and put a hand on his shoulder.
“We just felt like he deserved a good day for once. He’s been through so much.” She gazed at Malfoy thoughtfully. “That’s not to say you haven’t been having a hard time, either,” she added hastily. “But Pansy thought you might… benefit from it as well. Seems like she was right.”
Harry looked between Malfoy and Hermione, not understanding what she was telling him. It must have shown on his face. Hermione sighed and shook her head.
“Felix Felicis, that’s what Pansy put in his drink.”
Harry’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s why he’s being so weird?”
“You were weird, too, when you took it in sixth year,” Hermione reminded him.
Yeah, Harry mused, it had been a strange experience. He had felt so happy and cheerful, like nothing could go wrong. And, somehow, he had known exactly what he had to do to get… to get what he wanted.
Harry’s eyes darted back to Malfoy, who was still smiling contentedly with his eyes closed. Harry wondered what would have happened if his friends had given him the potion, instead of Malfoy. He doubted things would have been this forward but, maybe, it would have had a similar outcome.
Ignoring the fact that everyone in the room was watching him, he slowly raised his hand and ran his fingers through Malfoy’s hair. The Slytherin let out a long sigh that made the corners of Harry’s mouth twitch.
As he sat there, stroking Malfoy’s hair and marvelling at the fluttery feeling in his stomach, Harry thought it was lucky he and Malfoy apparently wanted the same thing.
Harry and Ginny are an iconic couple in general but thinking about what they must have been like in their early to mid twenties is especially mindblowing, like with her as this amazing pro quidditch player probably gracing magazine covers and him as a young auror passionately fighting for justice? They were really That Couple™ and it warms my heart
So, I am supposed to be working on a chapter of a story and an angsty oneshot. But this fluffy drabble had to be written. It just had to. ——–
“Draco, we need to talk.” Lucius told his son firmly as he
and Narcissa walked into the room.
Go ahead.” Came the little three-year-old’s distracted voice.
rolled his eyes before stepping behind his son and peering down. “What in heaven’s
name is that?”
had Narcissa circling the table and looking at her son’s face. His tongue was
peeking out of his lips, eyes were narrowed in concentration while brows
were furrowed and he seemed to be drawing something
on a spare piece of parchment. She blinked uncertainly at the pure disaster of
scribbles that were everywhere. If it
wasn’t supposed to be a ball of rubbish, she honestly had no idea what her son
was attempting to draw.
Dobby. Can’t you tell?” Draco looked up with a wobbly lip and sad eyes as he
pointed across the room to the house elf. As if the thought of it not looking
like Dobby was a disaster.
over for the first time and noted that the elf was in an odd pose with an apple
balancing on his forehead.
arched brows, Dobby hurried to explain. “Master Draco asked Dobby to be his
that so?” Lucius drawled with a heavy sigh. “Draco, you can’t order Dobby to
play with you.”
was not Lucius’ strong suit. He looked to the ceiling briefly before shaking
his head. “We will have this conversation at a later date. There are more
important things to discuss.”
hummed a little before looking up with wide eyes. “Am I in twouble? If so,
Dobby did it.”
surprised noise emitted from the elf and Narcissa couldn’t help but laugh
lightly. “No, you aren’t in trouble and don’t blame Dobby for things he didn’t do.”
Draco apologized as he looked down at his hands.
Lucius corrected. For some reason, pronouncing R’s were hard for his son.
brows were pinched in confusion. “That’s what I said.”
you said—” Lucius paused as he decided to let it go. “Nevermind. What I have
been trying to tell you is that we
have come to discuss a pureblood tradition with you.”
had Draco’s expression souring. “No thanks.”
covered her mouth as she tried muffling her laughter. Salazar, she loved her
The hard tone of his voice had his son straightening up and giving him a
serious look. Finally.
you come of age, you will be drawn into a marriage contract. This is something
that most purebloods do and it is a standing tradition of the Malfoy family.”
Lucius shot is wife a look when she crossed her arms. He knew that she didn’t
agree and wanted Draco to find his own spouse but that wasn’t the plan.
blinked rapidly. “You want to run that by me again?”
asked me to mawwy him today! I said I would if he let me have his pudding. He
who pray tell is Hawwy?” Lucius shuddered at the pronunciation.
is my best fwriend. He has pwetty eyes and he said I do too! We are mawried.”
smirked at her husband. “You hear that? He’s already married. Looks like that
marriage contract is moot.”
you can’t possibly—”
stood up rapidly, holding out her hand for her son to take. “I can and I will. You
want to explain to your son why he can’t marry his best friend? Because if so,
you can deal with the aftermath.”
looked between them rapidly. “But…” His eyes filled with tears. “We alweady
mawried.” The sniffle he released had Lucius closing his eyes. “Tomorrow’s the
anni- anniver-” He scrunched up his nose as he looked to Narcissa for help.
She offered picking him up and holding him close.
nodded rapidly as he wiped his eyes. “Yes. I want to give him a gift.”
smiled softly. “How about we go see if we can have one of the house elves cook
him something. What kind of desserts does he like?”
watched his wife and son walk out of the room with a shake of his head. He
looked over and noticed that Dobby was still in the same awful pose. “Cease
that at once.”
the elf let out a noise of relief, Lucius rolled his eyes. “What are the
chances that I’ll get my way in the end?”
that Dobby couldn’t lie to him, so he was interested in hearing the response.
*pop* of the elf’s departure was heard and it had Lucius putting his face in
his hands. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
today in class my friend and i were having a conversation in song lyrics and at some point i used the infamous “this isn’t the stain of a red wine im bleeding love” line from olivia and this one girl turns around and asks “is this shakespeare” and i will never forget her face when i told her that i was quoting one direction
Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.
“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.”
The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.
“Did you want something?”
“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.
And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.
“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”
“I want my friends to come visit.”
Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”
“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”
Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge.
“I see. For how long?”
“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”
Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”
I want my friends…friends…how often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables.
“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”
Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”
Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”
“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”
“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”
“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”
“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”
Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click.
Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front.
Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.
“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”