FIC: Made of Stardust (PG-13)

[mpreg_fest_mod]

Title: Made of Stardust
Author: leontinabowie
Prompt: PROMPT #76
Word Count: 10,400
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Nothing bad
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Epilogue compliant?: Nay
Who is pregnant?: Past Harry
Notes: Thank you to H for the beta!
Summary: Harry is going through life as a single parent, and Draco is getting married to Astoria - until he finds out that the marriage vows won’t take because he’s had a child out of wedlock. The problem is, Draco has no idea who the other parent is.

Made of Stardust


***

Astoria looked beautiful as she walked down the aisle.

She wasn’t a typical Malfoy bride - she was short and full-figured, with her blonde hair cropped short above her chin. Draco didn’t know her well, which wasn’t unusual for an arranged marriage, however he didn’t think he would do badly from the marriage.

It had taken Draco nearly four years to get to this point.

After the demise of the Dark Lord, Draco had spent most of his time drunk. Life had been a party for him, filled with alcohol and beautiful people - until his father stepped in. His father had had enough after more than a year of Draco partying, and forced him into a Potions Masters.

Draco studied for nearly two years, and was now a qualified Potioneer. He had wanted to be a Healer, originally, but his father believed it was better for him to be self-employed given the fact he had a Dark Mark on his arm. If he worked for himself, he wouldn’t have to rely on other people treating him fairly.

A baby wailed in the audience, and Draco turned to see Astoria’s sister, Daphne, bouncing her daughter on her knee as she tried to calm the infant. Draco’s lip curled at the sight.

Draco’s father had been almost manic as he tried to find a suitable bride for Draco. He wanted one from a Light or neutral family, to help bring the Malfoy name back into good light. Unfortunately, as the Malfoy name was in such poor light, nobody accepted the offer - until Daphne fell pregnant out of wedlock.

It brought great shame to pure-blood families to have a child outside of marriage. As well as being socially frowned upon, if a couple fell pregnant before they were married, neither partner would be able to marry someone else, should they break up.

Daphne’s transgression meant that the Greengrass name was in dirt, and they had no choice but to accept the offer of marrying into the Malfoy family.

Astoria beamed as she finished her walk down the aisle, and she winked at Draco as she stepped up beside him.

An old woman in the audience blew her nose loudly, and Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Astoria giggled at that.

The rather portly officiant stepped in front of them, his flowing white robes lined with gold trimmings.

“We are gathered here today,” the officiant said loudly, “to witness the marriage of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Astoria Yvette Greengrass.”

The officiant waved his wand over Astoria and golden dust blew over her like glitter. When the officiant turned his wand on Draco, there was a flash of red light and a blast like a fog horn.

The officiant’s eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” he murmured, throwing up a Privacy Charm. Draco and Astoria’s parents barged through it, but the rest of the crowd looked on bewildered, unable to hear what was going on.

“What’s the matter?” Draco’s mother asked calmly, although her eyes had flashed over dangerously.

“I cannot perform the ceremony, forgive me,” the officiant said, bowing to Draco’s father, who he seemed terrified of.

The terror was for good reason. “And why not?” his father hissed, his fingers tightening over the snake head of his cane.

“It appears that your son has had a child out of wedlock,” the officiant explained hastily, and Draco felt his blood run cold.

“What?” Mr and Mrs Greengrass exclaimed, both casting a quick glance at their eldest daughter.

“There must be some kind of mistake,” Draco’s mother tried, placing a firm hand on her husband’s shoulder in an effort to calm him. “Draco doesn’t have a child, do you, darling?”

“I don’t think - no,” Draco answered, frowning as he tried to cast his memory back. He had made a habit out of leaving his one-night-stands in the middle of the night and forgetting them the following day, but he was sure that someone would have written to him if he had fathered their child.

“The spell is never wrong,” the officiant said apologetically. He cast another spell over Draco, for longer that time, and several golden numbers floated momentarily in the air. “It says you have a single child, born in 1999.”

1999...that would have been in the mid to the end of his partying days. Merlin, he had potentially fathered a child and not had any idea; he would never admit it, but he was grateful that his father had saved him from that lifestyle before anything worse happened. He had a vision of a Weasley-sized horde of blonde children and barely repressed a shudder.

Mr and Mrs Greengrass shared a look before steering a tearful Astoria away from the group and heading back up the aisle, grabbing Daphne on the way. The crowd’s murmurs grew even stronger, until Draco’s father dismissed them with a polite but somewhat threatening speech which claimed Astoria had personal issues.

Draco buried his face in his hands while his mother rubbed his back soothingly. Merlin, he was a father. He had a two or three year old child out there somewhere - his own child.

His thoughts couldn’t dwell on that, however, as he felt his father approach. He looked into his father’s furious eyes, and hoped desperately that he wouldn’t be shouted at for too long.

***

Harry’s eyes snapped open when his bedroom door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang. He had a moment to read the time on his alarm clock - 5:15 - before his attention was diverted by a small form jumping onto his bed.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s my birthday day,” Harry’s son, Phoenix, said excitedly. His green eyes were wide with excitement, and he was grinning toothily at Harry.

“Happy Birthday, Phoenix,” Harry smiled, turning on the light after accepting that there was no way his son would go back to sleep now. “Look what I’ve got for you.”

Phoenix’s blond curls bounced as he jumped up and down excitedly as Harry Summoned one of the presents over to them. Harry had maybe gone a little overboard on presents, but he had been miserable at the Dursleys when all he had received for his birthday was a pair of socks or a coat hanger, and he never wanted his son to feel the same way that he had.

Phoenix ripped the wrapping paper off as viciously as he could manage - which wasn’t much -, beaming all the while. He whooped when he finally managed to break into the gift.

“Dragon!” he exclaimed, lifting the soft, blue dragon toy into the air triumphantly. “I’m gonna name him Charlie.”

“Another Charlie?” Harry pretended to be shocked.

Phoenix had a great love of dragons. Naturally, this meant that his dragonologist ‘Uncle’ Charlie was one of his favourite people, and all of Phoenix’s dragon toys were named after him. Charlie would be at Phoenix’s birthday party today, and he and Harry had organised a present between them which would be Phoenix’s main one - a trip to visit the dragon reservation in Romania during the summer.

Phoenix didn’t pick up on Harry’s false surprise, too occupied with holding the newest Charlie above his head and making him fly.

“I’m hungry,” Phoenix piped up. “I want breakfast.”

“You’d like some breakfast please,” Harry corrected gently. “Wouldn’t you rather wait a bit so we can watch your new present?”

Harry slid out a thick, rectangular present that he had kept under his pillow, having been prepared for an early wake-up call.

Phoenix nodded eagerly, and Harry held the present steady as Phoenix tore the paper off, revealing a Barney & Friends video; Phoenix loved dinosaurs almost as much as he loved dragons.

They spent the next hour relaxing in bed, and though the overly cheerful and cutesy songs grated on Harry’s nerves, he ignored his discomfort for the sake of his son; he was more than used to putting up with children’s entertainment.

“I’m hungry,” Phoenix said again once the video had finished, and he flicked up the hood of his dinosaur footie pyjamas - complete with soft spikes along the back. He slid off the bed and began crawling out of the bedroom. “I’m a vociraptor, roar!”

“You’ll scare them off if you tell them you’re coming,” Harry informed his son seriously. “Are you ready to slide?”

“Yes, yes!” Phoenix cheered, sitting back while Harry charmed the stairs into a slide. As soon as Harry opened the stair gate, Phoenix was at the edge and sliding down, holding his toy dragon in the air and cheering. Harry smiled fondly and followed his son down.

Phoenix clambered onto a chair while Harry got his favourite cereal - Fruit Snitches - out of the cupboard. Phoenix occupied himself by thumping the toy dragon along the table while Harry made them breakfast, and Harry couldn’t help but wince when the first spoonful went straight into the dragon’s stitched up mouth.

“I don’t think dragons like cereal,” Harry said as he cast a Cleansing charm over the toy.

Phoenix hummed thoughtfully. “What do dragons like to eat?”

“Why don’t you ask Uncle Charlie?” Harry suggested, reaching a hand out to ruffle Phoenix’s curls. “He’s going to be at your party.”

Phoenix beamed at him, bouncing in his chair. “Uncle Charlie’s coming?” he squealed, clapping his hands together and spilling some of his milk in the process.

“Yes, the two of us have an extra special birthday present for you,” Harry smiled. “Now eat your breakfast and you can open some more presents before we get ready.”

Phoenix ate in record speed, and opened his presents in similar fashion. Most of his presents were dragon related: story books about dragons, dragon patterned clothes, and an enchanted dragon toy that breathed fake fire and flew itself.

“I’m gonna call him Charlie,” Phoenix decided as he watched it flying in awe.

After opening his presents, Harry took Phoenix for a bath - most of the water ended up on Harry by the end of it. Phoenix cried when Harry brushed his hair, as usual, and he refused to wear the jumper that Mrs Weasley had knitted for him the previous Christmas.

“I’ll tell her it’s in the wash,” Harry promised his tearful son, memories of Aunt Petunia forcing him into horrid clothes still vivid in his mind - not that Mrs Weasley’s jumper was horrid, but Phoenix obviously thought differently.

Harry set Phoenix up watching one of the Land Before Time movies in his bedroom before having a quick shower himself.

Now that Phoenix had a relatively normal sleeping habit, Harry never had much time for a relaxing bath, not wanting to leave his son on his own for too long. It had been very hard at first, Harry being a single parent at such a young age with no clue about childcare, but Harry loved his son more than anything in the world, and the hardship had been worth it. The Weasley family and Hermione had been a big support, and Phoenix called them all his aunt and uncles, because they basically were.

Once Harry was ready, he gathered Phoenix and used the Floo to get to the Burrow - Phoenix hated the feeling of Apparition - where they were greeted by a very lively Weasley family, plus a few other friends.

Teddy ran forward as soon as he saw Harry, hugging him tightly round the middle before grabbing Phoenix’s hand and pulling him towards the large pile of presents.

“Me and Nana got you the best present,” Teddy said confidently. He was Phoenix’s best friend, being only a year older than him; Teddy had had his own fourth birthday just a week ago. “I got one last week, so we can play with them together.”

He was referring, of course, to the Junior Nimbus X - the child-friendly broom which was currently taking the young families of the Wizarding World by storm. Ron and Hermione had brought Phoenix a dinosaur helmet and shin pads to go with it.

The party went well, although Ron was somewhat offended when Phoenix ditched him the second that Charlie walked into the room. The man was immediately hounded with a thousand questions about dragons, but Charlie took it all in stride and never lost his patience.

It was a shame Charlie was asexual and aromantic, really. As well as being good-looking, Charlie was great with Phoenix and never failed to make the child smile. Charlie just wasn’t interested in dating, though, but Harry still valued him immensely as a very good friend.

Mrs Weasley had made a cake - shaped like a dragon, of course. Phoenix was incredibly impressed, until Teddy blew out the candles for him, stating that he was older and “knew what to do.” Andromeda held Teddy back when Mr Weasley lit the candles again, and Harry encouraged a tearful Phoenix to have another go.

Apart from the candle incident, the party passed without a hitch, and Phoenix had loved it. His favourite moment had been when Charlie had produced the tickets for the dragon sanctuary, although Phoenix wanted to go “nowwww.”

It was days like this which Harry cherished the most.

***

Draco winced when his father dropped a thick pile of parchment on the dining table.

“Do you know what this is, Draco?” his father asked coldly, looking down at Draco with a glare.

Draco shook his head mutely, knowing better than to try and smart-talk his father.

“These are the bills that the Greengrass family want us to pay,” Draco’s father expanded, dropping into the seat beside Draco. “Including monthly payments for a year as a way of apologising for humiliating their daughter. I’ve done a lot for you financially, Draco, but I refuse to do so this time. Due to the fact that you were such a whore -”

“I wasn’t a whore,” Draco protested weakly, but it was useless to argue when his father was on a roll.

“I think it’s only fair that you use your inheritance funds to pay for your mistake,” his father finished, sounding very much like his mind was made up.

“How can I access my inheritance funds if I’m not married?” Draco pointed out. The main reason he had gone along with the marriage in the first place was to get his hands on that money, but now, unless he met the mother or father of his child, he’d never be able to access it.

His father’s lips thinned. “How fortunate for you that I have been looking into familial law, then. If you can get the other parent to agree to break your paternal bond, you will be free to marry whomever you choose.”

Draco doubted he’d ever get to marry someone he chose. And as well as that, the idea of breaking his paternal bond didn’t quite sit well with him. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to be a father, but breaking familial bonds had been very common in the more psychotic side of the Black family, and Draco would rather avoid taking after them.

“How can I possibly get the other parent to agree to that if I have no idea who they are?” Draco enquired, raising a brow. “As you pointed out, I was a whore who slept with so many people…”

“Don’t you worry, Draco,” his father said with a pleasant smile as he poured them both some tea, much happier now that he had said his piece. “I have a man sorting that out as we speak.”

***

Harry forced himself to smile as his date spoke again about how respected he was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry should have really known better when he agreed to a date with a cousin of Cormac McLaggen.

“They say I could be Department head by the time I’m thirty,” Desmond bragged, leaning back in his chair and fixing Harry with a smile, which he presumed, was meant to be charming. “That would make me the youngest head in the history of the department. Do nurses have heads of departments, or is that left to the Healers?”

Harry could tell by the way Desmond placed emphasis on the word ‘Healer’ that he didn’t think much to Harry’s career choice as a nurse. After having Phoenix, Harry had decided against an Auror career as it was too dangerous and Harry refused to leave his son an orphan. Becoming a Healer had been an option for him, but in the end Harry decided it would be too time-consuming, plus being a nurse allowed him to spend more time with patients, which Harry enjoyed.

“We have ward sisters and brothers,” Harry answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know, my son already knows that he wants to be a dragonologist; he’s always pretending his toy dragons are in his sanctuary.”

Harry didn’t miss Desmond’s subtle eye roll.

“How cute,” Desmond muttered dryly, as though he didn’t think it was cute at all.

Despite Desmond being arrogant and cocky like his cousin, Harry had been willing to give him a chance, but he knew now that he and Desmond would be going nowhere. It happened all the time; whenever Harry spoke about his son, his dates would always become bitter about it. Phoenix was the most important person in Harry’s life, and anyone who wanted to date Harry would need to accept and understand that.

Harry’s eyes widened as he felt Desmond’s hand slide onto his thigh.

“How about we call the conversation quits and go back to my place?” Desmond whispered, leaning in to Harry’s ear. “It’ll give you a chance to be the one calling someone Daddy for a change.”

Harry spluttered, shooting off his chair and holding his hands in front of him. “Woah!” he exclaimed, not caring that people at nearby tables were staring. “I’m not into that, and I’m definitely not into you.”

Desmond’s eyes narrowed, and he also stood up; his tall height and broad shoulders dwarfed Harry, and Harry wasn’t really into that anyway.

“You celebrities are all the same, thinking you’re better than everyone else,” Desmond hissed, throwing several Galleons onto the table before storming off, determined to show off his wealth and power even at the messy end.

Harry smiled apologetically at the wide-eyed waiters and manager, and hastily made his own exit. He made a mental note not to let Hermione talk him into a date again. “He’s nicer than Cormac,” Hermione had promised, and while that was true, it wasn’t by much.

He Apparated home, and Ginny jumped from her seat on the sofa when he arrived.

“You’re back early,” Ginny commented, placing a jar of pickles on the coffee table next to a bowl of feta cheese.

Harry sent her a quizzical look at the odd combination, but Ginny simply shrugged and looked at him expectantly.

“Desmond McLaggen is an arse,” Harry explained.

“Oh?” Ginny queried, clearly expecting more.

“He’s cocky and arrogant,” Harry added, “and he wanted me to call him Daddy.”

“Oh,” Ginny said again, looking a lot more understanding. “That’s...I mean, there’s nothing especially wrong with that; Dean and I sometimes...but with a McLaggen? That’s not-”

“I know,” Harry cut in, trying to erase the image of Ginny and Dean that had involuntarily popped into his mind. “Has Phoenix been good? Is everything ok?”

“He’s fine, don’t worry,” Ginny smiled. “He’s had a lovely time. We played Daffy Daffy Dragons; he wanted to play as Charlie, and shouted at me for picking the green one because that was the Charlie he wanted, but apart from that he’s been an angel. He went to bed about an hour ago.”

“Great! Thanks again for watching him, Ginny.” Harry glanced down when he noticed Ginny’s hand had moved to cup her own - currently flat - stomach. “Ginny, are you…?” he trailed off, not wanting to offend her in case she wasn’t pregnant.

Her smile told him he had nothing to worry about.

“Ten weeks,” she said, beaming. “We haven’t told anyone yet, but I think Mum already knows. Was it the pickles that gave it away?”

“Kind of,” Harry grinned. “Congratulations, Ginny. Will you tell Dean I said so?”

Ginny nodded and promised she would, before packing up her things to go home. Once she had left, Harry went upstairs to check on Phoenix.

Phoenix was sleeping peacefully, curled up under his dinosaur bed sheets. The dragon that Dean had painted on the walls and charmed to animate was snoring softly as it slept, and Harry smiled fondly at it; Dean would make a great dad.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of Ginny, having Dean there beside her. While Harry had his friends to help him, it wasn’t really the same as having a partner.

And while he didn’t regret Phoenix for a single moment, Harry did wish sometimes that Phoenix had his other dad around, simply because Harry didn’t ever want his son to feel the horrid longing for a parent that he couldn’t have. It was Harry’s fault - he had been a bit too wild on his eighteenth birthday and drank far too much, resulting in him forgetting most of the night - including the man he had slept with.

Harry had no idea how to track the person down, so he doubted that he’d ever find out who it was.

But as he placed a kiss on his son’s forehead, Harry thought he didn’t really need anyone else.

***

“Surely you can’t expect me to visit all of these people?” Draco exclaimed, staring at his father with pleading eyes. He was answered with a look that told him he was expected to do so.

Draco’s father, who had connections everywhere, it seemed, knew somebody who worked as a Healer in the obstetrics department. The Healer had produced a list of infants born in 1999 who only had one confirmed parent, complete with their last known address.

It seemed that Draco was expected to visit every parent on that list to determine if their child had been fathered by him.

“Perhaps if you’d been wiser in your life choices you wouldn’t have gotten into this situation,” Draco’s father pointed out, which made Draco scowl.

“Because you’re a brilliant role model when it comes to making wise life choices,” Draco retorted before he could help himself. He knew that his father regretted bringing Draco and his mother into the Death Eater community, and in the end had risked his own life trying to save theirs.

His father clenched the snake head of his cane tightly for a moment, taking in a deep breath before releasing it. “Draco,” he said gently, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder for a fleeting moment. “I know I may be hard on you at times, but you’re an adult now; I can’t do everything for you anymore.”

Draco nodded solemnly. He was being too tough on his father; he truly was only trying to help.

He snatched the list up again, studying the list of six names. None of them rang a bell, but for all he knew he slept with them on a nameless basis. Draco’s method was to visit the people on the list - and their children - to see if there was anyone he could rule out; if the child didn’t match Draco or the other parent’s colourings, for example.

Pretending to be assisting with check-ups for the Healer who had produced Draco the list, he set out on his mission.

The first person Draco visited was a red-haired woman who was distantly related to the Weasleys. Draco hoped desperately that she wasn’t the mother, but thankfully her child was dark haired. The next two parents on the list happened to be blonde, but their children were also dark-haired so that ruled them out as well. The fourth was a man who informed Draco that he hadn’t revealed his partner to the hospital because it happened to be a much older politician who had since moved on. Similarly, the next parent on the list was from a traditional pure-blood family, and the woman hadn’t dared to reveal that she was in love with a Muggle. The final person on the list was a brunette with a blonde child, but the woman was a lesbian, and Draco had received a nasty Stinging Hex off her when he had enquired if she had ever felt the need for a man in the past.

So unless the final woman had somehow mistaken Draco for a female, he was at a dead end.

He expected his father to look angry or disappointed when Draco told him the news, but instead he shut his eyes and hung his head.

“What does this mean?” Draco asked, feeling discomforted by his father’s uncharacteristic silence. “Will the other parent be a Muggle, or in another country? Or did the wedding officiant get it wrong?” Draco sincerely hoped it would be the last one, because having a child with a Muggle would get Draco disowned, and a child in another country would be almost impossible to find.

“You know he wasn’t wrong, Draco,” his father snapped. He sighed deeply, and pulled a small, folded up piece of parchment from his pocket. “There was one other name on the list, but I really hoped you would discover the identity of the other parent before it came to this.”

Draco’s eyes widened; how bad was this going to be? Maybe it was a Weasley, or a Muggle-born, or someone renowned for being ugly. Then his father unfolded the piece of parchment and held it up for Draco to see, and Draco should have known really, because how bloody typical.

It wasn’t a Weasley, a Muggle-born, or someone ugly; even worse - it was Harry Potter.

***

Harry cast a quick Tempus while he waited for his next patient. It was only two o’clock, with another three hours to go until hometime.

He hastily placed his wand aside when he heard a knock at the door, and plastered a welcoming smile on his face.

Harry was surprised that he managed to hold him smile and hide his shock when Draco Malfoy came through the door.

Malfoy looked…well. Harry hadn’t seen the man for years, and last time he had Malfoy had clearly been suffering from severe stress caused by housing Voldemort for several months. But now Malfoy looked healthy, his teeth shined pearly white as he smiled at Harry, and his blond hair looked almost like it was spun from gold. Malfoy didn’t look surprised to see Harry, either, but perhaps he was also good at hiding it.

“Mr Malfoy,” Harry greeted professionally. “What can I help you with today?”

“Potter,” Malfoy said curtly. “I’m going travelling and would like health information.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful” Harry smiled. “Where are you going? Anywhere nice?” Harry hoped that it sounded conversational, rather than him badgering Malfoy for rather important information; it would be no good giving Malfoy information on heat stroke if he was going to Greenland.

“Cambodia,” Malfoy answered dismissively, too busy looking around Harry’s office. “It isn’t very personal in here, is it?”

“Nurses share this office depending who’s on appointment duty,” Harry explained, lifting up his wand to sort through the traveller’s health folders for him. “Sorry, it takes a minute for the spell to find the correct folder.”

“It’s fine,” Malfoy said, turning back to Harry and fixing him with another smile. It was the second smile already, and quite possibly the second smile in the entire time they’d known one another. The smiling was unusual, but not a bad thing - Malfoy had a rather nice smile.

“So I bet Cambodia will be interesting,” Harry mused, used to making conversation with the patients. “Have you been before?”

“When I was a child, yes,” Malfoy answered. “My father had a close business associate in Hong Kong and we lived there for a year when I was seven. We ended up doing a lot of travelling in that area, but of course my parents sorted out all the health information for me.”

Harry nodded; it was the most civil conversation he and Malfoy had ever had.

“I’ve never been abroad,” Harry said as the folder finally floated towards him. “My son and I are going to Romania this summer, though, to see the dragons.”

Malfoy seemed to perk up at those words, sitting up straight. “Of course; I forgot you had a son. How old is he now?”

“He turned three just over a week ago,” Harry said with a small smile, remembering how happy Phoenix had been that day. Realising that for some reason he was stalling actually giving Malfoy medical advice, Harry flipped open the folder and shoved it towards Malfoy. “Occamy are the main magical threat in Cambodia; their bite produces a nasty rash and nausea, but it isn’t anything fatal; I can give you a potion to take with you in case you do get bitten. There are also a few Muggle diseases, such as Malaria, which you have to look out for. You’d be able to get treatment at a magical clinic while you’re there, but it’s probably easier to have the vaccinations now so you don’t risk having to spend your holiday in the hospital.”

“Hmm,” Malfoy murmured, and Harry doubted that Malfoy had listened to a single word he had said. “That’s an interesting tattoo you have on your wrist; it’s the Phoenix constellation, isn’t it?”

Harry looked down at his wrist, where black lines connected by tiny stars created the Phoenix constellation.

“It’s for my son; his name is Phoenix,” Harry explained as he got to his feet, ready to prepare the injection. “Malfoy, can you sit on the-?”

“Phoenix?” Malfoy repeated, standing up and leaning against the raised bed rather than sitting on it. “Is that following in the Black family tradition of naming children after constellations, or is he named after Dumbledore’s Order?”

“He’s named after Dumbledore’s bird, actually,” Harry said truthfully, and it said a lot about him that Malfoy looked like he couldn’t tell whether it was a joke or not.

Harry grabbed one of the syringes and needles, and Malfoy coughed loudly behind him, bordering on choking.

“Are you alright?” Harry enquired, spinning round and finding himself shocked to see that Malfoy had gone incredibly pale. “Would you like me to get a Healer?”

Malfoy shook his head, his eyes fixed on the needle. Realisation hit Harry, and he quickly hid the syringe behind his back. He was used to needle-phobic patients; it was more common in pure-bloods who weren’t use to Muggle medicinal methods.

“I’m fine,” Malfoy said weakly. “I don’t need an injection. Thank you for the information.”

“The Numbing charm means you won’t feel a thing,” Harry tried, knowing that encouragement was very hit-and-miss with needle-phobic patients.

“I’m not bothered by that,” Malfoy snapped. “I’ve just decided I’m not going to go to Cambodia after all, or do any travelling, in fact. See you around, Potter.” Then Malfoy was gone, disappearing from the room in a burst of speed that Harry hadn’t known he possessed.

Harry shrugged and went about his day; he had been a nurse long enough now to accept strange patients.

***

Potter was the other father of Draco’s child! Harry Potter was the other father of Draco’s child!

Of course it wasn’t confirmed, and Draco was going off nothing but instinct, but Potter had always caused Draco trouble, and being knocked up by Draco and therefore ruining Draco’s marriage prospects was something Potter would do.

Draco’s suspicions had first been aroused when he looked at Potter’s wrists. Hazy flashes of holding those slender wrists down had popped into his head when he had seen them, and though Draco was - for some unknown reason that was probably Potter’s fault - prone to fantasising about Potter, it had seemed more of a memory than a fantasy.

Potter’s son was named after a constellation. Draco was named after a constellation. Granted, Potter had said that his son was named Phoenix because Dumbledore had had a pet phoenix, but Draco assumed - or hoped, rather - that Potter had been joking.

The final, and perhaps most concrete, piece of evidence that Draco had to back up his theory was Potter’s son’s birthday. Though the dates were rough, Draco had managed to figure out that there was a high possibility that the child had been conceived on Potter’s birthday, and what better day than a birthday to get mind numbingly drunk and have sex with somebody who would be forgotten in the morning?

If Draco was right, and Potter was the other father to his child, then at least it would be easy to break the paternal bond. Potter hated Draco, and would probably want for Draco to stay as far away from his son as possible. Draco ignored the way his stomach clenched at that thought, and focused on his next move.

Obviously he needed to see Potter’s son before he could do anything. Draco had had to visit Potter at the hospital because he had no idea where Potter lived, and even if he did, Potter worked at the hospital and therefore knew that Draco didn’t.

He vaguely recalled Pansy mentioning that she had seen Potter and his spawn - as Pansy had referred to the child - at the Golden Snidget Gardens where she walked her Crup. Now that Draco had spoken to Potter, it wouldn’t look as odd if he approached him in the park - all he needed was the most liable times off Pansy.

And as Draco kept telling himself, he was doing this to help his marriage prospects, which would in turn help his finance prospects by allowing him to access his inheritance funds. He was absolutely not curious in any way about his potential son, and he was definitely, one hundred per cent, not looking forward to seeing Potter - not even with his sexy, just-shagged hair, and smoldering green eyes - definitely not.

***

Harry was very proud of the fact that he raised his son with a mixed Muggle and magical culture. However one Muggle thing he would never be able to accept was their playgrounds.

Watching Phoenix climbing on the bright blue climbing frame, which had a Hover charm on the ground beneath it - the rubber ground with a Softening spell cast on it - was terrifying enough, and Muggles didn’t have any of those precautions. Harry wasn’t going to be one of those nervous parents who refused to let their child do anything, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Phoenix spotted Harry watching him and lifted his hand to wave. Harry inwardly cringed as Phoenix kept his balance with a single hand, but he smiled and waved back anyway.

The playground was in the middle of Golden Snidget Gardens, and for late April it was surprisingly warm. The playground was packed with children of all ages, families were having picnics on the green, there were people swimming in the small lake, and dogs were frolicking amongst the flowers.

One dog in particular seemed to be standing out the most, but it didn’t sound like it belonged to a happy dog. It was yapping and barking loudly, but Harry didn’t pay much attention to it until a growling dog - a Crup, rather, as Harry spotted its forked tail - jumped onto his lap and started whining, with its leash dangling over Harry’s legs.

“Enchantress!” a familiar voice called, and the Crup on Harry’s lap started growling again when a man ran up to Harry’s bench.

Harry almost rolled his eyes; it felt like being back at Hogwarts. “Malfoy,” he commented, petting the Crup’s head gently. “I don’t think your Crup likes you very much.”

“She’s just grumpy,” Malfoy dismissed, reaching a cautious hand down to pet the animal but hastily pulling it back when the Crup went to bite him. “Mind if I take a seat?”

Malfoy sat down without waiting for Harry’s answer, though it wasn’t like Harry could stop him from sitting on a public bench. Harry was oddly disappointed that Malfoy sat quite far away from him, but he supposed it was wise when the Crup settled again, apparently pleased by Malfoy’s distance.

“So Enchantress?” Harry asked, smiling as the Crup wagged her tail while Harry petted her. “Interesting choice of name you picked there.”

“I didn’t name it,” Malfoy said dryly. “And talking of interesting name choices, are you here with your son?”

Harry nodded, pointing to the sandpit where Phoenix had gone after becoming bored of the climbing frame. Harry preferred the sandpit; it was much closer to the ground.

“He’s the curly haired blond,” Harry stated. He frowned as he felt Malfoy tense beside him. “Everything alright, Malfoy?”

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” Malfoy answered hastily. “I expected your son to have a bird’s nest for hair, that’s all. My father’s hair is naturally curly, you know; he takes a lot of care to keep it straight.”

Surely Malfoy was joking? But Malfoy didn’t look like he was joking, and somehow the thought of Lucius Malfoy with flowing curly locks was very amusing to Harry. He didn’t have time to dwell on it for long, because Phoenix had spotted Harry with a Crup on his lap and came running over to them.

“Daddy! Who’s the doggy?” Phoenix cried as he hurried over. Enchantress sat up straight on Harry’s lap excitedly as Phoenix stroked her.

Harry kept a close eye on the Crup’s mouth, but she seemed friendly enough as long as Malfoy wasn’t near her. “Careful, Phoenix,” Harry reprimanded gently as his son pressed a bit too hard on the animal.

“Is she our doggy? What’s her name? Can we keep her?” Phoenix enquired animatedly, not having noticed Malfoy yet.

Harry noted absently that both Malfoy and Phoenix’s platinum hair glinted the same way in the sun.

“She’s Mr Malfoy’s Crup,” Harry answered, gesturing to Malfoy.

“Her name’s Enchantress,” Malfoy added, smiling fondly at Phoenix. He looked genuinely friendly, and it was a look Harry had never seen on him before. It wasn’t Harry’s Malfoy, but it was a side of Malfoy that Harry was happy to let his son be around. “I’m Draco; I went to school with your dad.”

Phoenix looked at Malfoy thoughtfully. “Draco means dragon,” he finally said, proudly. “I like dragons. Me and Daddy are going to see Uncle Charlie’s dragons in Romania.”

“So I’ve heard,” Malfoy replied. “I’m a little bit wary around dragons. Draco also means serpent, and I’m a lot more fond of snakes.”

Harry groaned inwardly; Malfoy had set up a monster.

Phoenix’s eyes lit up, and Harry knew it had started. “I want a snake!” he declared so loudly that Enchantress jumped. “Daddy won’t let me get one! All I want is a snake, because Daddy says we can’t keep a dragon in the garden, and dinosaurs are all gone so I can’t have one of them, either. It’s not fair!” Phoenix stomped his foot, and Malfoy laughed.

“That’s not fair, is it?” Malfoy agreed, and Harry had half a mind to hand Enchantress back to him, if only he hadn’t grown so attached to having a Crup on his lap; he really ought to get a non-snake pet. “I think if you keep telling your dad he’s a chicken, then he’ll give in eventually.”

Phoenix grinned, and gave the Crup one last pet before running back to the play area without saying goodbye.

“I don’t like snakes now that I can’t speak to them anymore; they just remind me of Voldemort and Nagini,” Harry whined. “I only just managed to get him to stop pestering about it.”

“Nagini is an unpleasant memory,” Malfoy said in agreement, nodding. “However, please take that as my revenge for you springing that needle upon me during my appointment.”

Guilt washed over Harry. “Sorry about that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you were afraid-”

“I’m not afraid,” Malfoy cut in quickly. “I just don’t like Muggle medicinal methods. But your Phoenix...he’s a bundle of energy, isn’t he?”

“He’s three,” Harry smiled. “You’re lucky you didn’t see him during his terrible twos.”

For a moment Malfoy looked as though something had pained him, but the moment passed quickly and Harry wasn’t sure if he had imagined it or not.

“Well, Potter, if you ever find yourself free of that energy bundle, I’d love to meet for coffee sometime. Owl me.”

Then he took his once-again growling Crup, leaving a smiling Harry behind.

***

Draco Malfoy was the father of Phoenix Potter. Draco was the father to Harry Potter’s son.

He didn’t have blood confirmation, of course, but Draco’s natural instincts were screaming at him that Phoenix was the one. Phoenix had Draco’s - and especially Draco’s father’s - hair; he had the chubby cheeks of any child his age, but underneath that was a certain refined edge that was only found in aristocratic pure-blood families like the Malfoys. Phoenix liked dragons and snakes, which was nothing concrete but a fondness for snakes suggested a natural Slytherin side.

And out of all the parents that Draco had seen, Potter was the one Draco would most likely have slept with. The others were ugly, or red-haired and Weasley like, or a lesbian, and Potter was attractive, and apparently no longer irritating. He was quite endearing, in fact, but Draco’s father wouldn’t accept any form of relationship between them.

The thought made him feel ill. Potter had made a comment about Draco missing Phoenix’s ‘terrible twos’, and that had got Draco thinking; what else had he missed? Regardless of whether Phoenix was Draco’s or not, there was still a child out there who had had their first steps, their first words, their first tooth...so many milestones that Draco would have missed. He didn’t know what it was like to experience sleepless nights when a baby wouldn’t stop crying, he didn’t know how to heal small cuts and bruises and kiss them better, and he didn’t know what it was like to be utterly devoted to his child.

Draco’s father may want the paternal bond broken, but Draco no longer did. What would he get out of it? An arranged bride and a child born solely to be an heir. Sure, Draco wouldn’t be able to get his inheritance, but he had access to other Malfoy funds, on top of the profits from his potioneering.

All Draco had to do was get Potter to agree to a paternity test to see if his suspicions were correct.

After returning Enchantress back to Pansy - he never knew why the animal always had it in for him, despite being friendly to everyone else - Draco went home and fell asleep while nursing a glass of Firewhiskey.

He was awoken in the morning by a tapping at his window, which turned out to be an owl from Potter, asking if he was free to meet in the afternoon.

One of the benefits of being self-employed was that Draco was indeed free, and at two in the afternoon he Apparated to Muggle Islington where he was meeting Potter for coffee.

The Muggle coffee shop was crowded and loud, and Draco had to squeeze past people to get through the doorway, but Potter had managed to find them a seat in the corner on a worn, faux-leather sofa. Nobody was paying much attention to them anyway, but Draco put up a Privacy charm once their drinks had arrived, just to be safe.

“Andromeda popped by this morning to see if Phoenix wanted to go to a farm with her and Teddy; Phoenix jumped at the chance,” Potter said while he poured three sachets of sugar into his latte.

Draco hadn’t expected the topic of children to come up so soon, but he didn’t mind. Potter obviously loved his son deeply, and it saved Draco from looking suspicious by starting a conversation about the topic himself.

“My aunt Andromeda, you mean?” Draco queried, as if there was another Andromeda that Potter might know. When Potter nodded, Draco continued. “I suppose her grandson won’t be much older than Phoenix.”

“Almost exactly a year older,” Potter answered with a small smile. “They’re the best of friends, which at their age means a lot of arguments and fighting over who gets to be the boss. Of course Teddy always wins the fights because him and Phoenix both buy into the idea that being older means you get to be the boss.”

“In my play circles it was the Purest and richest who got to be the boss,” Draco mused, which made Potter smile. Potter had a crooked smile, Draco noticed, and it was a lot nicer when it was aimed at him, rather than fading like what used to happen at Hogwarts whenever Potter caught sight of him.

“No wonder you had a such a superiority complex when you were eleven,” Potter commented with a grin. “Being so pure-blooded and rich, as you are.”

The conversation trailed off into a different direction, starting with reminiscence over their school days: “so you actually turned up to the duel at midnight, Potter?!”; “don’t you love how you never managed to beat Gryffindor at Quidditch, Malfoy?”

Time passed by in a flash without Draco even realising. He was actually enjoying talking to Potter, until a baby crying in the background reminded him why he was there.

But Draco realised he had no idea how to say what he wanted to. He had practised it before he came out, but that had been done under the assumption that Potter would have demanded to know what Draco wanted with him, and it hadn’t turned out that way.

“Are you alright, Malfoy?” Potter’s voice broke through his reverie, and he was suddenly aware of his mug shaking slightly in his hold.

Draco lowered his mug back to the table, and decided now was as good a time as any to tell Potter about his suspicions.

“I don’t know if you knew this, Potter, but I was due to get married last month,” Draco said, watching Potter carefully for his reaction; Potter simply looked surprised.

“What happened?” Potter asked, glancing down at his bare fingers. “Or are you trying to tell me you have a wife on the side?”

“No, no wife,” Draco muttered, his lip curling. His smirk faded as he pressed on. “In pure-blood culture, to have a child out of wedlock is deemed very shameful. In fact, a marriage won’t take place if either the bride or groom has had a child to anyone other than their marriage partner.”

Potter’s face went from being offended at being called shameful, to thoughtful as he studied Draco. “So your wife-to-be had a child you didn’t know about?”

“No, she didn’t,” Draco answered slowly.

Potter looked confused for a moment, before realisation slowly dawned on him.

“So you have a-?”

“I think it’s Phoenix,” Draco said bluntly, not knowing any other way he could phrase it. No matter what he said the meaning would be the same. “I was a slut, to put it frankly, Potter, and I slept with a lot of people who I forgot the following morning. After the failure of the wedding, Father insisted I try and find my child.”

“Why?” Potter’s voice was strangled, and his face had gone very pale. Draco had expected Potter to say more, but it seemed like he was in shock.

“He...he wanted me to ask the other parent to break my paternal bond so that I could marry someone else,” Draco admitted, leaning towards Potter but Potter flinched away. Oddly enough, Potter’s rejection stung Draco. “I don’t want to do that anymore; I want to be there for my son. If you’d let me explain more-”

“I’ve heard enough,” Potter snapped, regret instantly washing over his features. He stood up hastily, knocking the table and spilling the remaining coffee as he knocked his mug over. “Sorry, Malfoy, I...I’ll be in touch later, yeah? But right now I can’t…”

Potter didn’t finish his sentence, instead casting one last yearning look at Draco before he hurried away and disappeared in the crowd.

Well, Draco mused, that could have gone better.

***

“Potter?” Malfoy exclaimed, his eyes wide in shock. “How did you get access to my Floo?”

After Malfoy’s revelation at the coffee shop, Harry hadn’t quite known what to think.

He had wondered in the past if Malfoy was Phoenix’s father, simply because he didn’t know anybody else with hair quite that white-blond. But Harry had figured that Malfoy hated him and thus wouldn’t have slept with him, and there were probably plenty of gay wizards out there with the same hair colour.

Harry had gone in circles, with only irritatingly basic thoughts; he isn’t Phoenix’s father! But what if he is? He decided rather than driving himself crazy, he needed to get some answers from Malfoy.

“I have an Auror warrant,” Harry stated.

Malfoy blinked. “You’re not an Auror,” he pointed out.

Harry tilted his head. “That doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively, because Ron would get in trouble if Malfoy told the Ministry that he was handing out Floo warrants to non-Aurors. “I’m going to tell you a story, and you’re going to listen without interrupting me, alright?”

“Can I at least get a glass of Firewhiskey first?” Malfoy enquired. Harry nodded, and was pleased when Malfoy poured him a glass, too; Harry reckoned that they were both going to need it.

“A few weeks after my eighteenth birthday, I found out I was pregnant,” Harry started, gripping tightly onto his glass. His fingers felt wet against the glass, and he squeezed tighter. “I was single, had no blood family, and I had no idea wizards could even get pregnant. But rather than telling me the details about my pregnancy, the first thing the Healer asked was if I was married. When I said no, she became cold and very unhelpful, and it wasn’t just her; as you said, a pregnancy outside of wedlock is very taboo. Hermione and Ron supported me, of course, and the Weasleys got used to the idea quickly enough, but they all had their own lives to be getting on with and the fact remained that I was having a child on my own. I love Phoenix with all my heart, and have done from the moment he was born, but I’ve always hated myself for not giving him two parents. I know what it’s like to lose your parents, and I never want Phoenix to feel that way. I worry that one day he’ll start asking questions, and he’ll hate me for being such a drunken slut and forgetting who his father is. Then you came along and said what you said, and I didn’t know what to make of it. At first I thought that you were maybe playing a joke, or wanted to extort money from me, or something else sinister, but then I realised it didn’t make sense that you were up to no good, because if you were lying, a simple paternity test would stop you in your tracks before you could even begin. So tell me, Malfoy, why do you think you’re Phoenix’s dad?”

Malfoy took a large swallow of his whiskey after Harry’s monologue, and studied him with serious eyes. Harry been surprised that Malfoy hadn’t interrupted him and had actually listened all the way through, which further convinced Harry that Malfoy wasn’t playing games.

“There’s the physical similarities, of course,” Malfoy said, and Harry tilted his head in agreement. “He has a fondness for serpents though you do not; whether you planned it or not, you named your son after a constellation which is traditional in my maternal family lines; but mainly it seems to be instinctive. I know you must find this very woolly but-”

“It’s like a parental instinct,” Harry murmured, swallowing deeply. He looked down at the glass in his hand, and swirled the amber liquid around. “There’s only one way to truly know the truth, Malfoy, but we do it on my terms. If the test comes back negative, well, then it doesn’t really matter, but if it’s positive then I want you to be part of Phoenix’s life, even if it’s just sending him letters once a month. But I’m not going to take away his father, so I refuse to break your paternal bond. If that isn’t good enough, then you can get out of mine and Phoenix’s lives and figure out some other way to marry.”

“No; if I am his father, then I want to be part of Phoenix’s life - if you’ll let me,” Malfoy answered quickly, laying his hand on Harry’s knee. The touch sent a pleasant shiver through Harry’s spine, and he smiled softly.

“You know, Malfoy, before all this I was actually excited about going out with you for coffee. I thought it was a date-”

“It was,” Malfoy cut in reassuringly. “However I also wanted a safe place where I could discuss Phoenix with you. But I enjoyed spending time with you; you’re surprisingly more bearable when we’re not fighting.”

“So where does that leave us?” Harry asked, looking down at Malfoy’s hand which still hadn’t moved from his knee. “Will we continue to date no matter what the result of the test? Or is it strange to date the father of your child, three years late?”

“It’s very strange,” Malfoy agreed. “But we’ve already potentially conceived a child on a one-night-stand out of wedlock, so what does it matter if we do things in the wrong order? Besides, if I am the father, surely it’s better for Phoenix that he has his two parents together, who, at the very least, can get along well enough that they aren’t trying to kill each other.”

Malfoy smirked, and Harry laughed. Strange as it was, Malfoy had taken away a lot of the confusion that Harry had been feeling, and even more strange, he was making Harry feel good about himself.

“Well seeing as we’re both dying to know the truth,” Harry smiled. “Let’s go to St Mungo’s tomorrow.”

***

Draco went with Potter via Floo to Potter’s home, where Granger was sat on the sofa with Phoenix, reading a story book aloud in stupid voices.

“Daddy!” Phoenix shouted when he saw Potter, and jumped off the sofa and ran to his father to hug him tightly. Potter held Phoenix close, and Draco felt his heart melt at the sight; he wanted that.

Granger looked at him with a sympathetic look, which made Draco scowl at her. Granger, irritating as she was, simply rolled her eyes and kissed Potter on the cheek as she bid him and Phoenix goodbye.

“Hello Mr Draco,” Phoenix murmured, drawing Draco’s attention back to the child.

Merlin, it was such a peculiar feeling to see the boy who may very well be Draco’s son. Draco had - potentially - created that tiny human, and the sensation was suddenly overwhelming. He felt wetness at his eyes, and turned away to wipe them covertly.

Potter was looking at him understandingly when he turned back around. He didn’t take his eyes off Draco until he bent down to Phoenix’s height to talk to his son.

“Phoenix, we need to go to the hospital with Draco,” Potter told his son gently.

Phoenix instantly looked alarmed. “Why? What’s wrong? Is he dying? He looks a bit pale.”

Potter smiled fondly. “No, he’s fine; we’re all fine. We just need to do a test to check something out for Draco, and we need your help to do it. Will you help us?”

Phoenix looked thoughtful for a moment. “Can we go for ice cream afterwards?” he asked hopefully.

“We’ll get the biggest sundae that Fortescue’s does,” Potter promised.

Potter took Phoenix’s hand, and gestured for Draco to come to the Floo.

“We’ll Floo to the nurse’s staff room; it will be more private in there,” Potter said as he grabbed a handful of shimmering green Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. “Just say ‘Nurses Room, St Mungo’s.” Potter stepped into the fireplace with Phoenix and repeated those words, disappearing in a burst of light.

Draco took a deep breath before following suit.

Potter was talking to another nurse when Draco arrived, and she smiled sweetly at him when he emerged.

“Follow me, Mr Malfoy,” the woman said, kindly but matter-of-factly. She seemed like a typical middle-aged matron - firm but fair.

Draco, Potter, and Phoenix followed the nurse to a small consultation room, with nothing in it but two chairs and a cabinet. The nurse started to gather things from the cabinet, while Potter settled Phoenix on one of the chairs.

“We’re going to have to take a little bit of your blood,” Potter said, crouching down to Phoenix’s level. “Nurse Ashwind is going to use a needle to get it, but I promise it won’t hurt a bit.”

“What?” Draco hissed before he could stop himself, and Potter smirked at him. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Draco instead walked over to Phoenix and mimicked Potter by crouching down.

The child was wide-eyed, watching the nurse fearfully.

Potter stepped back, and Draco realised that it was a test. It was one thing to legally be a father, but being a dad was something else entirely.

“I’m scared, Mr Draco,” Phoenix murmured, turning to Draco hopefully, as if he might be able to take him out of there. “I don’t want a needle to take my blood.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile. “You’re just like your father.”

“What?” Potter exclaimed in mock-shock in the background, and it was only the presence of a three-year-old that stopped Draco from flipping Potter the finger.

Draco leant in close to Phoenix, and ushered the boy nearer. “You know, Phoenix, nobody knows this but I’m a little bit scared of needles, too.”

“Really? Nobody knew?” Potter commented dryly, and Nurse Ashwind tried to turn her snort of laughter into a cough.

“But if you’re brave and can do it,” Draco continued, pointedly ignoring Potter, “then I can do it, too.”

Phoenix nodded determinedly, and clutched Draco’s hand tightly when the nurse inserted the needle. Potter fussed over the crying Phoenix afterwards, while Nurse Ashwind prepared the next needle for Draco.

“How are you, Draco?” the nurse commented conversationally as she tried to work out of Draco’s line of sight. “Harry tells me you were planning a holiday.”

“Don’t make conversation,” Draco groaned, trying to look anywhere but at the nurse and the needle - he feared his nausea may become unbearable if he caught sight of it. “Just get on with it.”

“As you wish,” the nurse said, pressing the needle against his skin.

When she had drawn enough blood, Nurse Ashwind collected the two vials together and withdrew her wand, casting a spell over each vial. The mist from the spell started off yellow, but quickly became a vibrant gold.

“Well?” Potter said eagerly, clutching tightly onto a confused looking Phoenix.

“It’s positive,” the nurse said with a smile, and Draco didn’t even have time to process the words before Potter had crossed the room and was kissing him soundly.

***

“Daddies! Daddies, I want that one!” Phoenix badgered, pointing towards a large green snake that was curled in a circle, lazily watching them from behind the glass.

It had been three months since Draco had been confirmed as Phoenix’s father, and he had easily slotted into their life since then.

Draco and Harry tried to keep their distance at first, allowing Phoenix to get to know Draco on his own. Phoenix had been terribly excited to find out that Draco was also his father, and Draco took to fatherhood well. He panicked easily, but Harry had been the same after he first became a father.

Draco and Harry had started dating, and things were going very well between them. With Phoenix keeping them busy, they didn’t have time to argue, and when they weren’t arguing they actually got on well. They had both grown up from being teenagers - fatherhood did that to a person - and the tension that still lingered was put to good use in the bedroom.

Draco’s father had been horrified to begin with, of course, but Lucius soon realised that Draco being with Harry would work wonders for the Malfoy family name. If Harry Potter could be seen forgiving the Malfoys, then the rest of the Wizarding World would follow suit.

Lucius and Narcissa were both eager grandparents, and Lucius especially had taken to Phoenix. Harry didn’t dare leave his son alone with Lucius, admittedly, but he was happy to sit back and watch while Lucius showed Phoenix how to make wooden brooms inside of bottles, and played with him with old toys that looked like they had been in the Malfoy family for centuries.

“How about we see what else they have?” Harry tried, finding himself very disconcerted watching the snake and having no idea what it was thinking or hissing. His eyes trailed the rest of the pet shop quickly, and he grinned when he saw the perfect distraction. “What about a bearded dragon?”

Phoenix gasped and ran over to the cage, pressing his face against the glass.

“I want it!” he declared firmly. “I’m going to call it Charlie.”

“Of course you are,” Draco sniggered, who had been pleased to learn that all of Phoenix’s toys had the same name, which made learning them for playtime easier.

Later that night, Draco and Harry curled up on the sofa together. Phoenix was fast asleep in his room, and Charlie the bearded dragon was settled into his new home.

Draco’s fingers linked with Harry’s, and Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder.

They were a little bit of an unconventional family, but Harry wouldn’t change them for the world.





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