Scrawny, The Malfoys
Draco was almost inconsolable when the blood curse finally took Astoria from him. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from pouring over all the pictures he had kept in his late wife’s hat box. Even after many attempts, Scorpius couldn’t pry away his father’s shaky hands of the tangible memories that were stowed away into the box neatly tucked away in the attic.
After a while, Draco got preoccupied with raising his son. He was sure Astoria would have hexed him many times if he neglected their miracle child as a result of his heartbreak. A year after her passing and only until Scorpius had officially graduated from Hogwarts did the box remain untouched.
Scorpius, now freshly graduated and eager to start the beginning of his adult life, notified his father of his intentions to move out of the manor and into a small flat in London he would share with his best friend Albus (Draco wasn’t daft, he knew they weren’t just friends). Draco sighed inwardly and asked himself why on earth his son would want to have anything to do with a Potter. Much less fall in love with one.
Nevertheless, he helped sort through his things from the attic. While Scorpius loomed over his piles of scattered books and contemplated which were most important to bring for his healing studies, his father busied himself by opening every box and taking things out that might be of interest to Scorpius to take with him to the new flat.
Many dusty boxes and a few lung-clearing coughs later, there was only a powdery blue hatbox left for Draco to open. His breath hitched in his throat as he sat back on his heels and willed his tears away. He felt his hands form into fists at his lap, digging his nails into his palms to steady himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lanky shadow gingerly approach.
Scorpius stood over his father and hesitated for only a moment before Draco heard the creaking of the wooden floorboards and felt a large hand cover the top of his fist as his son sat beside him cross-legged.
“I’d like a few of the photos of you and mum, if you don’t mind.” Scorpius’ silvery eyes bore intently and expectantly at his father.
Draco’s gaze flitted briefly to his son before nodding. He kept his eyes low as he focused on Scorpius’ steady hands opening the box. They began sifting through the photographs together. The farther they went down the stack, the younger and livelier Draco looked in the pictures. In most of the ones from his twenties, Draco was grinning from ear to ear with his arm comfortably wrapped around Astoria, her own slight and mischievous smile teasing on her pretty face. Occasionally, a sly wink would be seen from the twenty-something-year-old blonde man as he confidently pulled his lover close. Scorpius couldn’t hold back his laugh.
“Dad, you’re just as tall and as gangly as me in these, not to mention you still wear the same blasted shoes from back then! Whatever did mum see in you?”
“I could say the same about the Potter’s boy, my son. Scrawny as I was and even with my signature classic shoes, at least I had a cool hairstyle.” Draco defensively waved a hand to gesture at his shiny and slicked back, platinum hair in the photo.
Scorpius rolled his eyes in response, mostly in amusement. In his head he recounted the almost unending times his mum complained of his father’s predictable style and his dislike for change.
“Even with Fleamont Potter creating Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion, it’s obvious it doesn’t work if Albus’ hair still looks like the way it does whenever you bring him round.” Draco clucked his tongue in distaste as he finished his comment, but Scorpius could only blush in response, his ears tinging a rather bright pink.
Over the time that it took for the pair to pour over countless photographs, the mood had considerably lightened as light streamed through the attic window in the late afternoon.
The father-son pair moved onto looking through the many letters that had been exchanged between husband and wife throughout various points in their young life as a couple. From hastily scribbled notes secretly passed between the two during class at Hogwarts, to their wedding vows, to postcards Draco had sent while he was away on business trips, everything reminiscent of their love was carefully preserved in Astoria’s extension-charmed hatbox.
This was the first time Draco had looked through the storage without his heartstrings tugging at his chest. There was something comforting about the way the couple's unwavering and steadfast love was captured in time for his son to see. It was proof that Draco and Astoria Malfoy had fully lived their time together well, despite all the odds, and even if it was cut too short.
After Scorpius had taken his pick of which photos he wanted to keep close in his new home, Draco rummaged through the rest of the box and pulled out the last photo remaining.
After ruffling the previously well-kept hair of Draco Malfoy, a young and rather beautiful woman threw her head back in laughter before flashing a smile at the camera. Even with his hair now sticking out in all directions, Draco looked rather pleased while he grabbed his fiancé's hand and held it up to show off their interlaced fingers, her engagement ring twinkling.
He turned the photo over in his hands. In her signature neat cursive, a single line was written by Astoria.
I married a scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle .
Draco felt a tug at the corner of his lips. He smiled.