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Chapter 14: Fighting over tea and onions

Summary:

Malfoy sits down for some semi-awkard tea with Harry. Neville has some wonderful news to share, which results in the inevitable fight between them. Although, maybe it's not the usual blond git, that is truly the enemy here.

Notes:

If you hate the Draco and Hermione friendship or the Draco as godparent idea, this will not be your cup of tea. That's okay. It's in the tags, so don't leave a nasty comment okay? Thank you :)

My thesis will rule my life after this, although I still hope to keep to my biweekly upload schedule. As expected, my thesis needs a sound rewrite, and I'll be engrossed in that. I have however, drafted a sort of overarching plot, which is why you can see that there should be 29 Chapters in total, if I can keep to this plot-guide. I hope you're excited about it! I want to add in a little more angst and plot twists, although I must admit I dislike reading/writing angst when I'm experiencing stress in my own personal life. I hope I'm not alone in this!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, as it is significantly longer, and a lot happens. It was necessary however, to move the plot forwards.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He can see the instant Malfoy spots him. He visibly pulls himself together, taking on the sharp, coldly distant appearance he displays to the public. It’s a little unnerving, seeing the two side by side.
Harry’s good mood vanishes instantly, and in its place comes a steady apprehension. Teddy is still leaning against him, and he briskly moves towards the house, and thus, Malfoy. There goes his plan to ward him out: the git has outdone him, this time. He sighs, but refrains from yelling at Malfoy, who’s staring at them unblinkingly, looking oddly mundane with his grocery bag and rather plain wizarding robes.
“Hello, Potter” he nods. Ever polite, Harry thinks, and grunts back in greeting, navigating Teddy up the steps, who mumbles incomprehensibly. For a moment, he’s annoyed that Malfoy’s not helping him get Teddy up the steps to the front door, but then remembers Malfoy is already carrying a grocery bag, also ostensibly to help them. This prickles Harry even further as he opens the door and stumbles in with Teddy. Malfoy follows him silently, and puts down the bag on the little spindly legged console table in the hallway, and then, as if he’s somehow known what Harry was thinking, reaches out to hoist Teddy up with him.
“Let’s get him upstairs, then” he says, pleasantly.
“Don’t presume I need your help, Malfoy” he bites out in a low voice.
Malfoy looks at him derisively. “I’d rather neither of us presume anything, Potter”. But they fall silent as they guide Teddy upstairs, and Harry hates that Malfoy knows where Teddy’s bedroom is, that he has such an intimate knowledge of their home already. They navigate him on his bed, underneath his blankets, after Harry has removed his sneakers. It had been a half-hearted fight to get Teddy not to wear his purple buckled wizarding boots. Harry’d won the argument not by stating that they were too obviously wizarding, but by pointing out that if he planned to play in the park, the stains might never come out. Harry thought it an example of prime parenting, that. Teddy had thus put on the white sneakers, which had a foiled swishy sign on them. They were scuffed, and he’d already repeatedly replaced the laces, which were now red on the left shoe, and blue on the other, respectively. Teddy had used markers to colour on the soles, just like he’d scribble on everything else if he got the chance to. He looked up from a weak attempt at tidying to see Draco fuss with the blanket draped over Teddy, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes seemed to be softer, fractionally. He looked up at Harry, and the effect was gone in an instant, eyebrow raised again .
“I believe it customary to offer tea to guests, you know”. He mocks, although there’s no heat in it.
Harry takes a look at Teddy, who seems already fast asleep, and sighs. “Fine, then. Come along” he moves, waits by the door to let Malfoy through first. No matter how many times Hermione says he’s harmless (she says he’s ‘truly a kind person, Harry’, but that description doesn’t bear thinking of), he doesn’t want Malfoy alone with Teddy, asleep. 
          Malfoy’s long legs evidently carry him downstairs faster, as he’s already put on the kettle and has started to unpack his groceries, putting fresh produce on the counter by the time Harry gets there. Harry stands in the doorway, watching him for a bit. It is odd, seeing Malfoy occupied with such ordinary tasks as unpacking groceries, or cooking, or tucking in Teddy. There was a quiet efficiency about him. Not because he was fast at what he did, there was no haste involved. Rather, it was that each movement was done with careful deliberation. Harry wondered if it was the product of his etiquette lessons, just like his perfect posture no doubt was. Or rather, perhaps he was just this meticulous, in everything, like the way he picked out the flowers for each of his bouquets. The kettle was whistling, and Harry stepped forward. He hadn’t yet decided how to deal with Malfoy.

His eye dropped to the little glass vase on the table, hosting a long-stemmed green stalk topped with an enormous white flowery head. Allium. A sort of onion, really. Common; Neville sold them for only one sickle at his shop. Usually with purple heads, although this white one looked suspiciously similar to the ones his neighbour three doors down had in their front garden. He frowned.
“Did you steal this flower from the neighbours?”
Malfoy turned around from his task, and shrugged.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
Harry sighed, it was like fighting with Teddy, this type of petty argument.
“Jezus Malfoy, you can’t just steal flowers. I was an Auror.” Malfoy smirks.
“Ex-Aurors can’t arrest flower thiefs, though, I heard” he jests. Harry can feel a smile tug at his lips.
“Seriously though, don’t start stealing flowers. Neville will go out of business, you arse”. A wonderfully melodious laugh erupts in the air, and Harry is rather startled by it. He looks almost fond, his causal smirk almost a smile now.
“Good point, Potter”. He admits. He waves his wand, and the kettle stills.
He has taken out an old Black tea-set, not the chipped and assorted mugs they usually use. It’s one of the nicer ones in Harry’s opinion, although it is less ornate than some of the others. Harry tries not to scoff at the recall: the house had, at some point, held more than five full teasets. Weird crusty old family, the Blacks had been, with teasets for every occasion, apparently. This set was more ‘common’: light pink with golden rims, and a smattering of white gardenia’s to decorate them. Their warming charm was wonky, but the flowery cups lent the tea a hint of sweetness. He got them out whenever Andromeda insisted on having ‘proper tea’ with him. He had no idea how Malfoy had found this set, he must’ve gone through the glassware cabinet in the sitting room next door. Odd.

                A perfectly hot steaming cup of tea was put in front of him, Malfoys long bony fingers lingering a little on the saucer, before he too, sat down at the table. Silence fell, but it wasn’t all that uncomfortable, really. The tea helped. It wasn’t as black as Harry usually took it, but it had a hint of fresh lemon in it, and he could appreciate its zest. Malfoy meanwhile, had closed his eyes, and hummed contentedly.  Malfoy wasn’t forthcoming with conversation, letting the silence stretch.

Harry cleared his throat. Malfoy’s eyes snapped open.
“You’re back again, then?”
“Yes, Potter”. It had all the derisiveness with which old Snape could say ‘o b v i o u s l y’. 
“To cook, again?” he prodded, squirming a little.
“Yes, Potter.” He answered again, and he looked like he was trying hard not to roll his eyes. He sipped his tea, and put down the cup. A little moisture was caught on his bottom lip, and Harry’s eyes were drawn to it involuntarily.
“What?” asked Malfoy. “Am I not allowed to have tea before starting dinner, like a common house elf?” he sneers.
“Christ Malfoy, calm down” Harry says. “Can we have one conversation where we don’t go for eachothers throat?”. He rubs his face. It had been too nice a morning. Of course someone had to come and ruin it, and of course it had to be bloody Malfoy.
Malfoy sniffed delicately. “Very well. By all means” he said. Harry felt his annoyance rise  yet again, but willed himself to stay calm. They couldn’t get into a fight anyway, with Teddy upstairs sleeping.
“You’re so bloody weird, you know?” he grunts. Malfoy, much to his surprise, looks rather delighted.
“Are you just going to state the obvious?” he smirks. Malfoy stands up, and starts cleaning his own cup.
“Hey! I thought we were having a conversation!” Harry exclaims.
“Well, you can keep on stating the obvious. I thought I might do something useful, meanwhile” Malfoy answers, and starts pulling out a bag of lentils he brought over last week. “Teddy said he wanted curry, and I have no idea how to make it, honestly. Better get a head start, don’t you agree?” he says rather pleasantly. Weird. Malfoy is so weird.
“So, you’re really cooking for Teddy?” he can’t resist asking, still disbelieving.
This time Malfoy does roll his eyes.
“Yes, Potter. What else have I been doing this week?”
“And it is all out of some sort of Black- reconciliation?”
Malfoy hums in response, not looking at him.
“Can I expect it to continue in the near future?” he asks again.
Malfoy huffs. “I expect so, yes.” A small smirk plays on his lips, Harry can see from his profile as he’s leaning over to get something from a drawer. He sips his tea again, considering.
Just as Malfoy is starting on chopping onions, there’s a tap on the window.
They both look up.

“Potter! That’s Mildred!” Malfoy exclaims, but Harry is already moving towards the window to let the little owl in. Attached to her little leg is a scroll, addressed to Teddy and Harry both.
“Well!? Aren’t you opening it?” Malfoy prods urgently. He’s hovering over him, and smells strongly of raw onions.
“It isn’t addressed to you, you pillock”. Malfoy rolls his eyes again, all composure forgotten.
“Give it here!” and he plucks the scroll out of Harry’s hand, and undoes the seal quickly. His eyes zoom over the handwriting, and a wide smile spread over his face, his cheeks flushing instantly. “Haha! They did it! They have a little girl, Marigold” he looks over at Harry in delight, who’s still trying to get at the parchment, dangling from Malfoy’s fingers, far out of reach.
“Let me see!” and Malfoy finally hands him the paper which read:

Harry, Teddy,
This morning Hannah gave birth to our little girl, Marigold.
They are both doing well. We won’t have any visitors over this weekend at least, but I know you’ll want to see our little bundle of joy.
Look out for an announcement. We’ll floo soon.
Love, Neville


Harry face split in a grin at least as wide as Malfoy’s next to him, who was all aflutter, making more tea. His chest ached. What wonderful news! What he wouldn’t give to be them, in that moment, where everything was new and perfect.
He looked at Malfoy, who was sniffing again.
“Eh, Malfoy?” Malfoy turned and looked at him again. “Are you crying?” he asked, aghast.
“No!” came the reply, and Malfoy turned away again. “It’s the onions” he said defensively. “for the curry, you know”. Harry snorted in disbelief.
“Crying’s fair too, if you were” he teases. It was kind of fun, teasing Malfoy.
“I’m not. It’s the onions” came the terse response. Harry shrugs, and finishes making another pot of tea. He’s still feeling giddy.
“I can’t wait to tell Teddy, he’ll be thrilled” he laughs. Malfoy turns towards him again, his eyes still watery, an attractive flush spanning his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. So quickly, Malfoy lost all composure he had. It was a revelation.
Another owl tapped at the window, this time a post-order one. Upon letting it in, it dropped a letter on Draco’s shoulder, and fled off again, not even accepting a treat Harry hastily grabbed from the little tray by the window. 
Draco quickly rips open the seal, and reads the parchment.
“It’s the same message. God, I can’t believe he sent you a personal note and not me!” he looks a bit disgruntled. Harry laughs at the jealous tone.
“I didn’t know you were such good friends, actually”. He sits down to more tea. He’s made it blacker this time, and Malfoy looks at it rather despondently.
“Well, we are. Neville and I….” Malfoy takes a deep breath. “We came to an understanding even before Hermione and I did” he finishes, looking like someone had just pulled out some of his fingernails. Huh. This was news to Harry. Neville never said, just treated Malfoy cordially whenever he came into the shop.
“I didn’t know”. 
Malfoy flashes him a wry smile.
“Again, stating the obvious, Potter. Why should you know?”. Harry shrugs, and sips his tea. Silence falls again.  

“I heard Hermione and Ron asked you to be godfather, too” Malfoy says in the silence.
“Yes, but I haven’t- wait, what do you mean,  ‘too’?” Harry frowns, suspicion coiling in his belly.
Malfoy puts down his teacup again, and gets up to go to the counter. To resume onion cutting, or some sorts.
“I’m going to be godfather to Ron and Hermione’s child” he says, in his poshest voice. Even with his back turned he now oozes unease, his spine rigid.
“You” Harry says; it comes out as a squeak.
Malfoys shoulders droop, just a little. “Yes. Me. Problem?” he asks, and turns around to glower at Harry, chopping knife in hand.
“Problem? You’re seriously asking if it’s a problem?” he scoffs.
Malfoy starts chopping carrots now, perhaps a little more forcefully than the care he had taken with the onions.
Harry’s mind was reeling. “I can’t believe they asked you. Knowing they’d ask me, too. Christ” he exclaims, feeling hysteria rising.
Malfoy dropped his chopped onions and carrots in a large pot, and a sizzling sound immediately followed.
“Didn’t know you’d be so fond of Muggle expletives, Potter” he says drily, and takes out a bag of chickpea flower. He rolls up his sleeves in short little tugs, and all of a sudden, his forearms are bare and Harry sees it. It fortifies his angry indignation. Malfoy seems too caught up in the dough-making to notice his reaction, after all, his back is turned.
“That… But, you have the Dark Mark! How can they ask you?!”.
Malfoy whirls around with a hiss, his eyes gleaming.
“Yes, Potter, how can they ask me? Me, the lowest of Death Eater scum, how could they not see it?” he spits at Harry derisively. Harry stands, angry, his magic flaring, cresting against Malfoy’s.
“You’re not fit to be a godparent, you have no idea what it takes!” Harry yells, now.
“And you did?!” Malfoy yells back, but he looks like he feels ill as soon as it slips out. Harry instantly deflates, falling back in the chair.
“I’m sorry, Potter. That was uncalled for” Malfoy says quietly, looking away. His jaw is clenched tightly, and he’s still panting a little. He starts rolling down his sleeves again, but Harry grabs his arm, right above his dark mark.
“It’s fine, leave it” he grinds out. Malfoy stares at him, face again blank. Harry looks into his eyes, but can’t read what’s swirling in their depths. Somewhere, Harry remembers another fight they had, in a bathroom. He wonders briefly if Malfoy remembers it, too. The blood on the tiles, mixing itself with water like beautiful blooms. The moment stretches, their breathing evening out, their magic turning into something different, now.

The doorbell rings.

They both startle into movement, Malfoy waving him to the door, muttering about making naan. Harry gets up, a little shaken, and walks to the door. He’s not expecting Andromeda for a couple of hours, and she tended to use the floo. Tonight is his first meeting for the single parent support group, and Andromeda was staying over to watch Teddy. He’d even cleaned out a guest bedroom for her, one on the third floor. Not ideal, but it had an ensuite, and the pink patterned wallpaper and frilly curtains were in decent shape, for Grimmauld. He reached the hallway, and quickly waved his wand to check for any traps, or worse, the press. Never could be too careful, these days. When nothing flared, he swung open the door.

“Heya, Harry” said Marcus, standing on his doorsteps, hands in his pockets and looking bashful. His dark brown curly hair was cut neatly, and he was in old fashioned wizarding robes, belted at the waist to show off his trim figure.
The sight, after so many weeks, was like a punch to the gut. He wouldn’t floocall, he wouldn’t even do him the curtesy of owling, but there he was, standing on his doorstep.
A spicy scent was wafting in from the kitchen, and it snapped him back to reality.
“Marcus? What are you doing here?” he asks. Marcus is already taking the last step up, and slips past Harry’s slighter form into the hallway.
“Well, I see nothing’s changed here, then.” He murmered, smiling a little at Harry. “No time to redecorate, even after quitting?” he asks, winking.
It used to be a never-ending joke of theirs, the state of Grimmauld Place. Harry would promise to redecorate, but then they’d get a new case, and there just never was enough time. And after each case, they’d come back to Grimmauld, and it was still the state it was in, not the grand family home it could be, but the dusty thing with the shut-rooms.

“What are you doing here, Marcus?”. Marcus turns around, looking as charming as ever. He doesn’t look like he went through a breakup at all. But then, he’d already found a replacement, hadn’t he?
“Just wanted to see how you are.” He says. Harry crosses his arms. Malfoy’s humming again, and the sound is carrying into the hallway. Marcus tilts his head. “Oh, you’re not alone here?” some sort of rakish smile takes over his face. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harry” he winks, and it suddenly reminds Harry uncomfortably of Lockhart. He’s not sure whether he’s offended. Perhaps he should feel offended. He just feels too tired all of a sudden to feel anything at all. Empty. He sighs.
“I still have some of your things, Marcus” he says, awkwardly.
“Hmm, how thoughtful of you.” He answers, although it doesn’t sound all that sincere. He walks further in the hallway, and before Harry can stop him, he steps into the kitchen. Harry inwardly braces himself.

“YOU!” he hears Marcus roar, and Harry forces himself to move. Malfoy might be a bastard, but Marcus is not exactly rational with regards to him, with his prejudice. Even less than he is, really. He doesn’t put it past him to arrest Malfoy. "Shit!" he curses, and arrives at the kitchen to see Malfoy pressed against the sink, both hands up, Dark Mark on unfortunate display. Marcus is close to him, almost nose to nose, wand drawn and pressed against Malfoys long, pale throat. Harry can see his adams apple bobbing as he swallows, but the glint in his eye is defiant.
“Well, hello Belby.” He sneers, as best he can with a wand forced under his chin.
Marcus is breathing heavily in Malfoys face. “You death-eating scum!” he spits out, and Malfoy flinches as a little spittle lands on him.
“Marcus, stop!” Harry yells, and quickly advances on them, pulling Marcus bodily from Malfoy, who gets pushed against the table, which makes a loud screeching noise as the legs scrape against the floor.
“What is that thing… he doing here?!” Marcus demands, his chest heaving. He looks furious.
“Oh, I’m not even a person, now, Belby?” Malfoy sneers again, and with all the dignity he can muster, wipes his face with a tea towel. There’s still some flower dusting his collar, but his posture is again rigid, his chin high.
“He’s… It’s really none of your business”, he answers, catching himself. He doesn’t need to explain himself to Marcus. He’s not the one who left him for someone else, who suggested he quit his job.
“You’ve taken up with a Death Eater?!” Marcus spits out, looking disgusted.
“No!” yells Harry.
“Aquitted Death Eater!” bites out Malfoy.
Marcus looks between Malfoy, who’s enchanted the dough to keep rolling itself, and Harry, who’s defensively crossed his arms, but for all intents and purposes, has put his body between Malfoy and Marcus.

“Dad?” comes a voice from the doorway. Harry’s heart sinks. Teddy had woken up from the scuffle, and he’s in the doorway, barefeet, clothes rumpled. He needs a pepper-up, badly.
“Sorry Ted, did we wake you?” he says, gently, although not moving. Teddy nods, and tenses a bit when he sees who else is in the room.
He’s never shown himself fully as himself to Marcus before, and as he can’t metamorph at the moment, it’s his true form on display. It had been a sore point for Harry, but never something he pressed. He could understand feeling vulnerable, and trust had to be earned. His metamorphing was a defense mechanism, giving him a guise of confidence. He can see Teddy’s hesitation, already thinking of turning around. But Teddy’s also dead curious, and loves to stick his nose –or beak, or snout- in all sorts of business. A nightmare when he was an Auror, as he couldn’t bring files home lest Teddy read some of the grisly details. His amber eyes lock on Marcus, and he clenches his jaw. He looks defiant, kind of like Malfoy.
“Say, why don’t you go up and take some of that Pepper-Up, and I’ll see you in a minute, ‘kay?” Teddy nods quickly, and with a last look at Malfoy –who smiles encouragingly at him-, he goes upstairs.
“Is he sick?” Marcus asks in the silence that follows.
“None of your business, Belby” Malfoy cuts in sharply, before Harry can get in a word.
Marcus looks annoyed again.
“I wasn’t asking you, scum.” He bites out.
“Right,” Harry says. “Marcus, if you want your things, I’ll get them. But you need to wait outside.”
He looks flabbergasted. “You’re throwing me out, and not him?!”. Harry rubs his face again. He was way too tired for this. Marcus gets up, moves towards Harry, as if to touch him. Harry knows he can’t handle it, he might break if he does. He’s wanted Marcus to come to him for so long, to come and apologize. This didn’t at all go like he dreamt about.
“You didn’t even come here for Teddy, did you?” he asks, as he steps back.
“I just asked you if he was sick!” Marcus responds, defensive.
“The epitome of care, indeed” mutters Malfoy under his breath. That fast, Marcus is on him again, pressing him against the counter.
“Christ, stop it! Marcus, calm down.” He takes his arm, and drags him to the hallway. Teddy is standing at the top of the stairs, hidden by shadows, but Harry still knows it’s him. Kids were never as sneaky as they thought they were.
“I’ll send you your things, then” he states again. Marcus sighs, looks pleadingly at him. “I didn’t come here for my stuff, Harry. I don’t even remember what I left here.”
Harry looks at him, too stunned for a reply.
“No, don’t look at me like that, I didn’t mean it like that”. He pleads.
Malfoy has now entered the hallway, and a snort alerted them to his presence. “Then why does it sound like you did, Belby?” he asks derisively. He’s again the perfect aristocrat, poised and arrogant.
Harry tries to swallow around the knot in his throat, but fails. He feels rather awful, disappointed and exposed, in his own house.

Malfoy steps forward rather forcefully, pushing Harry to the side and opening the door. “I reckon you need help getting out, Auror”. Marcus looks like he was just made to swallow something slimy, but stepped towards the now open door. “I would say it’s been a pleasure seeing you, but it really hasn’t.” he adds politely. Marcus tries to lash out again, this time using his fist, but Harry grabs his arm, his reflexes still fast. They lock eyes, blue meeting green. “I see how it is” Marcus spits at him. Harry doesn’t trust his voice. Marcus wrenches himself loose, and disappears through the door.
Malfoy slams it shut with a muttered “Good riddance”.

The silence in the hallway is deafening.

Harry can feel Malfoy looking at him.
“Teddy” he mutters, and he turns to the stairs, leaving Malfoy in the hallway. He finds Teddy sitting on the top step, leaning against the dark wooden bannister, looking mutinous. He finds the Pepper-up, and gives Teddy a small dose, before they both go downstairs.
“Why was he here, Harry?” Teddy asks a little angrily. He sounds betrayed. Harry sighs. He doesn’t want to go into it, with his child.
“Beats me, kid.” He answers, and they enter the kitchen. On the table, next to the flowery bulb rests another two mugs of hot chocolate, steaming. Malfoy’s standing with his back turned, but has turned on the hob again. The kitchen is warm, and the radio has been turned on to a Muggle blues channel, where a female singer is crooning for her lost love. Not what he would’ve pegged Malfoy for, but then again, what would have pegged him for?

“Is grannie coming over soon?” asks Teddy, sipping his hot chocolate like it is the most normal thing in the world. Perhaps it is, given the frequency Malfoy has come by lately.  Harry is yet to sip his, even though he knows it’s not poisoned and it smells lovely. Again, Malfoy is being weird, making hot chocolate.  
“Aunt Andromeda is coming over?” Malfoy suddenly says, in response to Teddy’s innocuous question.
Teddy answers before him. “Dad’s going to a single dad club, so me and grannie have a sleepover!” he states, rather satisfied. He slurps some more hot chocolate.

Harry can practically feel the gleeful look on Malfoy’s face at the words “single dad club”. He groans.
“Help me paint the picture here, Potter. Is it something dirty?” he smirks.
“Why would it be dirty?” asks Teddy, all innocent confusion “You better not steal my Slime-Buckets, dad”. Harry groans again. Oh my god, Malfoy is such a bad influence.
“Shut up, Malfoy. It’s a support group thing, I got a reference from St. Mungo’s” he answers, willing himself not to look more embarrassed than he already does. Man, today can hardly get any worse. Then he remembers, Malfoy doesn’t actually have an accord with Andromeda. As far as he knows, he’s in for yet another awkward meeting. Which would be amusing, but it might hurt Andromeda, too. Better check, actually.
“Wait, have you talked to Andromeda already?”. Malfoy pulls a face like he’s sucking on a lemon. Harry grins. “Thought so”. He sipped a bit of the hot chocolate. It was strangely nice, hot chocolate in summer. After all, it was still England. Perhaps he shouldn’t have chucked the first one Malfoy’d made, last time.

Teddy had already finished his and was going over to Malfoy to check on his curry making process, fascinated by the stretching dough for naan. He watched them for a moment, interacting naturally. Malfoy talked to Teddy like he was an adult, although without all the sneer and double entendre. Malfoy was lowering the hob to a quiet simmer, and it seemed that at least all the preparatory work was done. A flick of his wand had a timer floating over the simmering pot, set for the hours until dinner. Apparently curry making was a long process. Teddy was excited about it, something he’d only had for take-out, and loved, if it wasn’t spicy. Malfoy was assuring Teddy it wasn’t spicy, since he wasn’t used to it either. It was strangely adorable, and it made him reluctant to ask Malfoy to leave. After all, if Teddy was okay with it, perhaps it wasn’t all that bad.
“Malfoy, if you don’t want to see Andromeda, I’d suggest leaving before she gets here, in like, half an hour” he said, not unkindly.
“No! Don’t leave! You need to stay for the sleepover! Grannie always has the best stories” Teddy says, eyes pleading to Malfoy. As if it was Malfoy’s decision, not Harry’s. Malfoy smiles at Teddy, lifts his hand almost as if to rub his head, but halts himself, eyes darting to Harry, as if for permission. Harry feels a bit bad, but not bad enough to do something about it.
“I’m not opposed to meeting her, if she’s agreeable” Malfoy says rather stiffly, although he winks at Teddy, who’s beaming at him.
Harry inclines his head. “I’ll go and inform her. It’s her choice, however.” He warns, and leaves the room. He can hear Teddy and Malfoy resuming their animated conversation, and figures he can leave them for a little while, after all. He has much to think of regarding Malfoy, and he feels wrongfooted by all that happened today.

Andromeda is not as surprised as he thinks she ought to have been, at the news that Malfoy is at Grimmauld. She positively smirks when he reluctantly relates how Teddy as asked him to stay for her stories. “Very well, then. I will mind both Teddy and my little nephew,” the Black blood prominent in her tone. “I should like to see what has become of Narcissa’s boy” she grins, dark eyes sparkling and making her look younger, even in the unflattering light of the flames.

 

And so, as Andromeda steps through the floo, and he witnesses their awfully polite greetings and smalltalk, he’s rather glad to have the excuse to leave for an evening. He knows Andromeda will not let anything happen to Teddy, and by the petulant look on Malfoy’s face, he’s cowed enough by his stern aunt to sneer too much. He’ll no doubt hear all about it from Teddy, when he goes to wake him up in the morning.


Notes:

Thank you for reading this beast! I will try to be a more considerate writer in the future, and hope to make it feel less forced/rushed.

*Allium's meaning (as many of onion/leek type of plants) is patience, humility. Malfoy's unsure of his position, and while he's not completely sincere in his intentions towards Harry, he so very much wants to be included in Teddy's life. He just needs a chance, and a little more time. Also, how can there be a dinner table without floral ornamentation? It's uncouth, that's what it is ;)