Chapter 3
Harry woke the next morning to the smell of toast and sausage, and hurriedly put his glasses on before stumbling downstairs.
Draco stood at the stove, his pajamas still perfectly in order and slippers matching as he moved the sausages around in the pan. Harry coughed, effectively gaining the man’s attention and causing him to turn. Draco gave Harry a soft smile that most definitely did not reach his eyes before popping two more slices of bread into the toaster.
Harry sat at the table, watching the blonde move around as the children slowly trickled into the kitchen. Lily, seemingly forgetting the events of yesterday, hopped onto Harry’s lap, thumb in her mouth and stuffed dragon under her arm.
“Papa?” the girl pouted as she looked at Draco, “are we still going to the zoo today? I want to see the Hipp-ah-wiffs.”
“Hippogriffs, Lilybug,” Draco corrected offhandedly as he plated breakfast. “And it’s up to your father if we go.”
Lily looked up at Harry with pleading grey eyes, and Harry softened immediately.
“Of course we can go,” Harry mumbled, and Lily clapped before chomping into a slice of toast.
***
Going to the zoo with five children was, expectedly, hectic. Lily had spent hours dragging them around different enclosures, forcing them to see the Hippogriffs at least three times before they finally managed to leave, and all four boys had spent the day either running off on their own or complaining about the heat. What was even more of a hassle, however, was the horde of reporters swarming around the family. Draco, who was obviously used to this, gathered the children in and held Harry close to him as the crowd grew larger.
“Merlin,” the blonde muttered under his breath, “nearly twenty years after the war and they still can’t give us a bloody break.”
Harry nodded slightly, feeling as though he was a deer caught in headlights and the cameras flashed continuously. It seemed normal as could be, until one reporter, very familiar to Harry with her lime green robes and feathers in her hair, shouted out the questions she and her ‘dear readers’ wanted an answer to.
“Mr. Malfoy, is it true that you use dark magic to discipline the children? Is it true that you have even put Lily under the cruciatus?” Skeeter yelled over the crowd, startling Harry and causing Lily to turn and put her head against his leg. Draco, startled by the accusation, turned to look at Skeeter. “Is it also true, Mr. Malfoy, that you have used the same cane that formerly belonged to your father to beat the children to the brink of death?”
Draco’s face changed from shock to rage as Skeeter continued interrogating him. Harry, unexpectedly, walked to the front of the family, staring Skeeter right in the eyes as he spoke.
“Draco has not lifted a finger to those children, Skeeter, not once, nor will he ever. Neither of us will ever touch those children. However, I have no issue with fighting you if I must, you cockroach.”
Skeeter took a step back, beady eyes wide, and Harry turned back to face his family, gesturing for them to leave.
“Dad,” Scorpius and James looked up at Harry with wide eyes, “that was AWESOME!”
Harry smiled before noticing how shaky Draco was as he started the car.
***
Draco opened the door and let everyone in, the children chattering loudly about how epic Harry was during the confrontation, each of them engaging in their own dramatic retelling. Lily’s even included Harry riding off on a Hippogriff.
Once they had all run upstairs, Draco sat down on the couch, shaking as he went down. Harry sat next to him, wondering what exactly to do as the man rubbed his temples. After a moment, Draco looked up at the ceiling, a tear rolling down his cheek, breathed in deeply, and then began to shake more as sobs racked his body. Harry sat for a moment, wondering what to do, before finally giving into his instincts from the day prior and kneeling in front of the man.
Draco’s hands were pulling his eyes and cheeks taught, gripping into his hair as he sobbed. Harry, taking a page out of Hermione’s book, slowly reached up to grab Draco’s hands, pulling them away from his hair and gripping them in his larger hands. Draco continued crying, looking down into his lap and avoiding Harry’s gaze.
“Malfoy,” Harry whispered, begging the blonde to look at him.
“Potter,” Draco mumbled. “My last name is Potter, now. She couldn’t even get that much right.”
“Draco,” Harry tried again. “Draco can you look at me?”
Draco finally brought his eyes up to meet Harry’s, and after a moment of quiet sniffling broke down again. Harry, once again emulating Hermione, pulled the crying blonde in for a hug, letting Draco’s head rest on his shoulder as he cried. Harry felt his stomach drop as he held the man, and stayed silent for a moment to get over the nausea.
“Draco,” Harry spoke quietly, “listen to me. Two days ago, I was sitting in my dorm at Hogwarts. I had just found out that you were a Death Eater, and I was up all night regretting attacking you for it. The Draco I am used to is rude, mean, and genuinely believes that all of the pureblood supremacy bullshit is true.”
Draco whimpered, and Harry knew he was thinking that this was going in a completely different direction.
“But, Draco,” Harry continued, thankful that he had somehow found some form of eloquence. “The man I’ve seen during this weird experience is gentle, caring, and probably one of the softest people I’ve ever met. What Skeeter said today had absolutely no basis in truth. You would never hurt those children and we both know it. You love them. You love me, and I can see that even if I’m still not sure how this happened.”
Draco looked up at him, teary eyed and pitiful, and gave him a small smirk. “Are you falling for me, Potter?”
“Well, Malfoy,” Harry joked back, “I wouldn’t say that, but I definitely don’t hate you anymore. Not completely at least.”
Draco smiled and glanced down. Nodding and muttering quiet gratitude before heading to the kitchen to make lunch.