Chapter 6
Draco stood at the window, watching as Harry Disapparated through the small front garden. The soft pop of his departure lingered in the air, leaving behind an unusual stillness.
Scorpius giggled in his arms, kicking his legs happily, as if sensing that something important had just happened.
“Maybe, little dragon,” Draco murmured, gently brushing his fingers through his son’s fine white hair, “maybe love isn’t a curse after all.”
He pressed a soft kiss to Scorpius’ forehead before laying him down in his cot for a well-deserved afternoon nap. The moment the baby settled, his eyes fluttered closed, and Draco remained by his side, watching him sleep for a moment longer.As if the scene couldn’t get any more clichéd, a fluttering sound at the window broke the tranquillity. An owl perched there, a letter clamped firmly in its beak, tapping insistently against the glass.
Draco sighed, opening the window to retrieve the letter. The familiar Potter seal gave him a sense of foreboding. This was no ordinary note. Breaking the seal, Draco settled onto the couch and began to read.
Draco,
Yes, yes—before you roll your eyes and mutter something ridiculous like “Potter can’t even get through a workday without missing my enchanting presence”—sssh. You’re right.
I’ve taken your advice seriously and, as you so kindly demanded, familiarised myself with pure-blood courting traditions. I thought that if I’m going to take the plunge and embrace your particular brand of chaos—and let’s be honest, we both know I already have—I might as well be prepared.
Enclosed, you will find the following highly traditional items:
1.A silk handkerchief embroidered with my family crest. (I know you’ll think this is ridiculous, but I’ve read that presenting one is a sign of sincerity. For the record, it’s unused—unlike your collection of spit-up cloths.)
2.A pouch of herbs. Apparently, they symbolise luck and fertility, though given your current level of baby chaos, this feels more like a warning than a promise.
3.A handwritten letter. Apparently, words on parchment signify care and respect in the pure-blood world. (Yes, I’ve confirmed that this counts as a love letter. Go ahead and laugh.)
4.A silver amulet. It’s supposed to offer protection—you’re the expert, so I’ll leave that judgment to you. But if we’re talking about protection, it felt appropriate. Plus, if I may say so, it looks rather stylish.
So, those are my first steps in officially “courting” you.
Now, to you: Will you invite me to dinner tomorrow night? Or do you need to hesitate a little longer to keep up the illusion that you don’t actually have feelings for me?
Your chaos expert,
Harry
Draco read the letter twice. Then a third time, just to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted any of it.
“The man is impossible,” he muttered, glancing at the items Harry had enclosed.
The silk handkerchief was flawlessly folded. The pouch of herbs smelled of lavender and rosemary, prompting an exaggerated eye-roll from Draco.
But the amulet—it made him pause. Simple yet elegant, it bore finely engraved protective runes, crafted with impressive precision.
“Potter, you ridiculous romantic,” Draco whispered, placing the amulet carefully on the table.
He set the letter aside, staring at the collection of offerings in front of him. Draco wasn’t sure what this gesture truly meant—whether it was a genuine second chance or simply another catastrophe waiting to unfold. But as Scorpius slept peacefully in the next room and Draco felt a faint lightness in his chest, he allowed himself a rare moment of optimism.
Perhaps chaos wasn’t the worst thing after all.
And perhaps Harry Potter was the only person who truly knew how to survive it.