Harry sat in the chaise sipping fire-whiskey. Draco would yell at him for drinking in his dressing room, but the Veela was fast asleep in the next room. He laid flat on his stomach with his wings spread over the sides of his nest.
The only sounds were the ticking of the clock and Draco’s steady breath. Harry watched the rise and fall of a lock of hair in his face. Normally Draco kept it in a loose ponytail while he slept, however, Draco had crashed shortly after their tryst.
Harry couldn’t sleep. When he had gone to his house to fetch clothes earlier, he failed to enter. Not from lack of trying, but his key simply wouldn’t turn the bolt. It had taken several minutes of trying before he realized Ginny had changed the locks.
Normally, Harry wouldn’t be drinking at five in the morning, but he’d had a bloody mess of a week. The thing with Jamie, then the fight with Ginny, the problems with the egg, Draco being arrested, and another fight with Ginny not to mention the workweek he’d had.
The capture of Rookwood meant that all of the Death Eaters that had escaped in 1997 were either dead or back in prison. The Prophet had celebrated the accomplishment with a front-page story that spread over several pages. Harry and Draco had celebrated by ordering takeout from a muggle restaurant. They had made two stops: there and the liquor store. Once back at Draco’s flat, they had eaten and gotten pissed before fucking each other’s brains out for several hours.
And yet here he was still drinking. This week reminded him of the war after Dumbledore had died. It was that same feeling as if nowhere was safe. Like he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had taken years for that feeling to dissipate the first time, for normal life to feel like normal.
He supposed that was the problem with him and Ginny’s relationship in the first place. She was his safe harbor, someone who lessened the feeling. It wasn’t a healthy way to have a relationship. A healthy relationship was to have a person you could work through the hard times with, someone who you generally wanted to be around.
He looked over to Draco, asleep with messy hair. He never thought Draco Malfoy, pompous git extraordinaire would be that person. Hell, if he’d been told five years go he’d even be able to be in the same room without hexing him, he’d have thought that person was lying.
Harry vaguely wondered if Hermione still had her time turner. If he had known- really known, would he have married Ginny at all? It was a strange thought.
He moved to get up and walked from the bedroom into the hall. He ducked his head into the boys’ room. The three toddlers were curled up together wings and feathers spread in every direction. No doubt Draco would fret over their appearance in the morning.
He backed out of the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Scratching his stomach, Harry grabbed the kettle from the stove. Filling it with water he placed it on the stove and moved to contemplate his new coffee press. It would be a few hours before the morning Prophet would arrive.
Harry had been on the front page in one way or another every day this week. Typically, he hated being the center of attention, but with the focus being on his work as Head Auror, he found the articles tolerable. Well, he’d had found them tolerable ever since he and Draco had gotten the editor by the balls so to speak.
Harry took his coffee downstairs into Draco’s book shop, he hoped to find something interesting to read, while he waited.
He meandered through the large bookcases. Leather tomes filled the shelves; it looked like the kind of place Draco and Hermione could spend hours in. Even Neville would enjoy some of the volumes with detailed illustrations on plants. But there was little about antique books Harry found exciting.
However, in the back, Harry did find a book detailing old quidditch matches. It wasn’t long before he heard the post fall through the slot. Harry groaned as he stood up to get it. He wasn’t old but he certainly felt it with how this week was going. Merlin’s balls, he wasn’t even thirty yet how could he be so stiff.
He grabbed the stack and headed into the kitchen. The Prophet would arrive soon enough, but everything else could be sorted between Draco and Narcissa. There was a thick brown envelope that caught his attention. It was particularly interesting as it had his name on it.
Harry went to get his wand from where he had been sitting drinking. He waved a quick reveling charm over the package.
Well, it's not cursed. Harry thought as he tore into the package. It quickly became apparent to him what he’d been sent.
The top of the page was official letter head from the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Matrimony. He read through the document, but he knew what the whole thing was getting at- his right to a solicitor, how long he had until a court date so on- Ginny had filed for divorce.
Harry dropped the parchment in front of his seat at the dining room table. He dropped to his seat. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he was more worried about what Draco would have to say about all of this than the fact his wife was divorcing him.
Harry started fixing breakfast when Narcissa came down the stairs. Draco would rise soon after his mother. She placed a tea kettle on the stove as he pulled some bacon from the fridge.
“You’re up early.”
“I had trouble going to sleep with everything that happened this week.”
She hummed. “It has been trying for all of us. Although, I think you being here has been good for the hatchlings.”
Harry nodded. “I’ve tried, but mostly I just feel like I’ve only worked Draco up more.”
Narcissa started pulling china from the cabinet and chuckled. “My son is easily worked up where you are concerned- always has been. He is really just trying to impress you- he’s such a terrible flirt. Would you like some tea as well, dear?”
Her words took a moment to sink into his sleep-deprived and stress addled brain. “What-um I mean sure…Why does Draco think he has to impress me?”
“I’m sure he thinks you should already be impressed with him. But he’s always wanted you to be impressed by him. You can’t imagine how much he complained about Ms. Granger his first few years at Hogwarts. Then it was anyone you were remotely taken with.”
Harry opened the fridge to take out eggs. “I thought Veelas didn’t get jealous.”
Narcissa tightened her lips. “Not of sexual things no.” The kettle began to scream.
“How do you take your tea?”
Harry would figure out what she meant later if he remembered to ask Draco. “Um, just milk, thanks.” He handed the milk to her from the fridge.
Jamie came in a moment later, followed by Draco carrying Scorpius and Albus.
“Morning, Mother-Harry.” He said. Jamie came over and wrapped himself around Harry’s legs pressing his little face sleepily into the back of Harry’s knee.
Harry reached down and ruffled Jamie’s curls. “Sleep well, Chick?”
He nodded against his leg. Draco rolled his eyes at the nickname.
Narcissa leaned against the counter and sipped her tea, “Are you fixing the boys breakfast this morning, love? Harry’s already working on his.”
Draco hummed. “I think I’ll let Kreature deal with it. I’m confident he only wants to poison Harry.”
Harry paused with his own tea halfway to his mouth. “Oi, what do you mean he wants to poison me?”
Draco smirked and moved closer. He whispered into Harry’s ear, “He found out you made Jamie your heir and wants that sooner than later. He likes Mother better, though.” He gave Harry a peck on the cheek before walking out with the younger two hatchlings.
Harry turned to Narcissa who was smiling into her tea. “Er, do you think he’d like me better if I gifted him to you for Christmas?”
Draco yelled from the dining room, “Don’t be daft, Potter, her birthday is much closer.”
Harry rolled his eyes and cracked his eggs into the skillet. Kreature tottered in a few minutes later muttering obscenities about Harry. “Kreature, watch your mouth around Jamie!”
Kreature let out a humf, before turning to the little boy, “What would the young Master like for breakfast?”
Jamie grinned, “Ricket Muffins?”
The house-elf nodded. “Very good, sir, a proper choice for a growing Veela.”
Draco came walking into the kitchen a moment later. “Potter, what is this?”
If he was being called Potter, Draco was upset. Harry turned as he pulled the skillet from the heat and placed his food on a plate. He noticed Draco was holding the papers from the Matrimony department.
“Ginny has filed for divorce; it came this morning.”
“I can read you tosser, I meant why didn’t you tell me?”
“Draco, would you be more in a tiff than you are now if I had woken you?”
The Veela huffed, “This is important. She’s sighting you on unreasonable behavior, reckless spending, and keeping known heirs a secret.”
Harry just watched as Draco’s feather started ruffling; he knew the Veela was mad that he wasn’t upset.
“Clearly your head is as thick as your cock! It means- idiot- that they will examine our dealings and our children in a court!”
Harry blinked, “Er, um, I’m pretty sure Jamie is too young for them to put on the stand.”
Fire filled Draco’s eyes. “What do you think the public is going to think about an ex-Death Eater Veela, breaking up the Golden Couple?”
Realization washed over Harry. “But…I’m immune to Allure.”
“The fact that we have even tested this is not going to help their opinions!”
“So…um what do you want me to do, then?”
Draco folded his arms with a huff, “I assume you haven’t got a solicitor yet, so when you go today, we’ll stop by and have a little chat with Cuffe.”
Harry leaned back against the counter and shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth, “Okay so do you want to ask Hermione or your mom to watch the boys?”
Draco moved to the stove to pour himself a cup of tea before retreating to allow Kreature to put the muffins in the oven. “Oh, they are coming with us.”
Harry paused, “Wait, I thought you were upset because of the kids being in the spotlight. “
“Malfoys have always been in the spotlight. And now that you’ve captured Rookwood, what real Death Eaters are left out there?”
“I think just Courtly, and Smithers-“
“Proper Death Eaters, Potter. Those two barely have half a brain between them. And we both know as soon as our kids enter Hogwarts and their names are read, people will be all over them.”
Harry just blinked at him.
“I need to check to see if I have any Sleekeasy’s for Jamie’s hair!” Draco placed his cup on the counter and dashed from the room.
Harry walked from the kitchen to the dining room, only to find Narcissa holding a crisp copy of the Prophet, along the main headline was a smaller one which read, Ginny Potter Seen Visiting Solicitor’s Office. This was indeed going to be a fiasco.
Two hours later, Draco had each of the children prim and proper. Well at least proper for young Veela.
Jamie was already fussing and clearly wanted out of the robes. Draco had spent an hour alone on the boy’s hair and yet somehow, he still couldn’t get his curls to lay completely flat. He’d given up and let the top be curly.
Draco’s gray robes were made of some kind of light and shiny cloth.
“It’s silk, you uncultured troll!” Draco hissed at him as he straightened Albus’s robes, before telling Harry to go change.
Harry had first come down the stairs wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. Draco had taken one look at him and told him to go change. They were adults going to a legal meeting, not teenagers going out on the town.
He really needed to go by and collect the rest of his clothes from Ginny. Most of the things he’d brought were just what he wore under his Auror robes. Everything he glanced at he had he knew Draco would disapprove of. All he’d really brought with him were t-shirts, jeans, underwear, and pajamas. It was summer after all; he didn’t exactly layer up under his Auror robes.
He laid all of his clothes out and stared. Draco was going to be furious at anything he picked. He was shit at clothing transformation spells, so that was out. A spark of genius came over him, Draco would hate it. Harry couldn’t help but smile as he changed clothes.
Harry came down the stairs once again to find Draco and his children completely ready to go.
“Potter, why on earth do you have your pajamas on?”
“Because you told me I couldn’t wear a t-shirt.”
A look of absolute disgust crossed his face, but Harry rolled his eyes and continued.
“They are kurta style, Draco, no one will be able to tell it’s a sleep one but you and Ginny. Look I have jeans on underneath, that makes it at least sensible.”
Draco huffed. “At least everyone will know you’re not under my spell because I’d never let you out of the apartment wearing that hideous shade of red.”
Harry looked down, “It’s Gryffindor Red.”
“Hideous shade of red,” Draco reiterated, “You’re an autumn not a spring, darker red would suit you better.”
“Er…I was born in the summer.”
Draco gave him a rather condescending look. “You are the worst bisexual man on the planet. How can you not understand color theory?”
Harry just stared at him. “I don’t understand the argument we’re having here. Do you want me to wear this or a t-shirt?”
Draco’s wings ruffled just a touch as he huffed, “I’m trying to make us look like a beautiful little family! Something others will both relate to and want to emulate.” He gestured to himself and the kids.
Jamie wore a miniature version of what Draco was wearing only in Slytherin green. The matching Falmouth Falcon onesies Scor and Albus were in weren’t nearly as smart Jamie and Draco’s robes, but they certainly were cute. Then, again Harry was pretty biased.
“But we already have a beautiful family”
“Just hold still,” Draco hissed and pointed his wand at Harry before muttering some spell.”
The shirt instantly turned darker and the wrinkles smoothed out. Harry examined his spell work. “All you did was turn it darker.”
Fire filled Draco’s eyes. Harry knew when to shut up, clearly, the Veela was nervous about just going out to the solicitor’s office. It was in that moment Harry realized, this was their first outing as a family, as a proper family. Draco who was fussing over every detail, Harry realized he simply wanted it to be perfect.
He reached out and hugged the angry Veela. “Draco, I know everyone judges us, but you’re perfect for me and so are our kids, who gives a shit what everyone else thinks. We can get through the day.”
Draco’s wings came to wrap around him as he hugged back.
The walk to the Ministery, unfortunately, involved walking through Diagon Alley to use the Leaky Cauldron as an exit onto the street. To say they garnered people’s attention as they walked through Diagon Alley was an understatement. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walking down the street holding a child in one arm and both holding the hands of a toddler in-between them, was quite the spectacle.
Several people blatantly stared, and others started whispering to each other. Harry had grown oddly used to people whispering and talking when they saw him, but it was strange for them to also be looking at his children.
Draco walked with his head high keeping his eyes either dead ahead or on their children. Some people were looking at Draco with disgust. It wasn’t a new development for the Veela to get such a reaction. But it was new for Harry to witness it.
He wanted to hug Draco or hold his hand, but that was impossible with their children in tow. Some of the on-looking crowd would probably faint.
They reached the Leaky Cauldron without much fuss from the boys. Mostly they just had a crowd of onlookers; luckily it was still early on a Saturday morning, so a limited number of people were out and about.
Inside the Leaky, Draco cast a few quick glamour spells to hide his and the kids’ wings, before they headed out into Muggle London. From there it was just a short walk down to Whitehall and the Ministry Entrance. It was- for Harry- becoming his typical morning commute.
Draco visibly relaxed while they walked through muggle London. Harry found it slightly strange as here, they were receiving far more looks of disgust from some of the older Muggles. They reached the red telephone booth and crowded inside.
Inside they were met by someone who looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t quite place him.
“Mr. Malfoy, good to see you again. Your mother sent me an owl earlier saying you would be needing the services of my office.”
“Bletchley, good to see you as well. However, it is I that needs your service but rather Potter here. I presume you have a certain standard of client, but with a referral from the Malfoys’ perhaps you can take someone so unrefined.” Malfoy smirked at Harry.
The man, Bletchley, tutted, “Bedding, Gryffindor’s Golden Boy, my-my how low indeed your standards have fallen.”
“Yes, well, I’m clearly still in my rebellious phase and refusing to settle down with someone respectable, such as yourself. Will you take him on or not?” Draco huffed.
He laughed before motioning towards the lifts, “Of course, follow me we’re on level eleven.”
Bletchley’s office was very posh. It reminded Harry of the Slytherin common room. Jamie immediately ran to the fish tank in the corner.
“Fishie!” He cried.
Bletchley knelt down beside him, “Like my aquarium, do you?”
“Would you like to know their names?”
“They have names,” he turned to his dad, “Daddy, are we supposed to name our food?”
Bletchley looked horrified, to which Draco smirked, “No my love, we don’t. and those are Mr. Bletchley’s pets- not food, so you can’t have one.”
Jamie pouted. A receptionist stood up from the desk, “Champagne?”
Harry blinked, “This really is a posh place.”
Bletchley stood and straightened his robes. “We have high standards here, Mr. Potter. Both with our clients and with the number of cases we win.”
The smirk on the man’s face finally made him realize who he was, “I don’t seem to remember you winning that many quidditch matches against me.”
Bletchley narrowed his eyes, “I assume your wit is the only reason Draco, remains faithful to you.”
“It’s my not favoritequality of his, but it’s definitely on my list of reasons not to smother him in his sleep.” Draco drawled as he leaned against the table and sipped his flute of Champagne. He watched the toddlers, Albus and Scorpius had followed after their older brother as soon as they were set down. They now stood with their little faces plastered against the glass.
“Aw Malfoy, I’m touched you have a list, I didn’t think you had more than one reason.” Harry placed a hand over his heart.
Draco’s eyes narrowed, “It’s a short list.”
Bletchley rolled his eyes, “Will you to quiet flirting for a few moments so we can continue to work on Potter’s divorce paperwork?”
That comment snapped them both back into reality. The receptionist came over holding several parchments. “These are just your standard client privilege documentation and formal forms of acceptance.”
Harry nodded and began to read over them. Bletchley snorted, “There’s nothing sinister in there, Potter.”
“Sorry but, um I do remember the Slytherins cheating a lot at sports. I don’t exactly trust you.”
“Says the man getting a divorce because he cheated on his wife with me.” Draco stared him down.
Harry wanted to bite back with something but what Draco had said was completely true. He straightened his glasses. “Well, would you sign something he gave you without reading it?”
Draco smirked and pressed his glass to his lips.
Harry turned back to Bletchley, “He has something on you, doesn’t he?”
The Solicitor crossed his arms, “He’s a Malfoy, he has something on everyone.”
Harry quickly scribbled down his signature on the bottom of the page before handing the parchment to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter. Now that you’re officially a client, could I please see the document sent to you.” Bletchley handed off the paper to his assistant.
Draco opened the nappy bag on his shoulder and pulled out the stack of parchments Harry had received that morning. He handed it over to Bletchley.
“Very good, and I will of course need your financial reports from Gringotts.”
“You know transaction statements and deposits and withdrawals. And of course, statements of property owned, it’s so property and finances can be distributed.” Bletchley said as he started flipping through the papers.
“Wait they can tell me how much money I make a year.”
Both Draco and Bletchley were quiet for a moment before Draco groaned. “Potter, are you telling me you have no idea what your annual income is each year?”
Draco rolled his eyes rather dramatically. “Your idiocy never ends.” He turned to Bletchley, “I’ll just have him go in a sign a release of information to you from the bank.”
“Splendid, that will make things go much more quickly.”
“You are the daftest man, I’ve ever met. How have you never requested bank statements, before?” Draco continued to berate Harry as they walked back up Charing Cross road after their meeting with Bletchley. You’re a grown man; how in Merlin’s beard have you survived this long? You don’t even know what your annual income is and you agreed to keep me up!”
Yet the moment he laid his hand on the door of the Leaky Cauldron, Malfoy’s complaints died. He knew he was trying to present a happy family. Harry hoped maybe they could for once have a civil conversation.
“Gringotts or the Prophet first?” He asked.
Draco hummed, “Gringotts, it should give Cuffe enough time to be afraid.”
Harry smirked. “Alright then.”
Somehow through the whole time they were at the bank, Malfoy kept his mouth shut. Mostly by pressing it into a thin line. As soon as the goblin helping them handed him the account book, he left the room to allow him to ‘look over everything’. Immediately, Draco removed himself from where he leaned against the wall and pulled the book from his hands.
“Hush, I’m trying to make sure, our children will have an inheritance from both parents.” Draco flipped through the pages until he landed on the dates in the nineties.
“July 31, 1991, Harry Potter makes withdrawal of…100 galleons. Interest paid 162 g 4 sickles.
August, Interest paid-September, interest paid” Harry tried to move the book so he too could look but Draco slapped his hand away. “7457 galleons paid from patents.”
“100. A hundred galleons in a whole year?”
Harry shrugged. “I only needed it to buy school stuff.”
Draco rolled his eyes, “You should have dressed better at least in school.”
The Veela flipped the page, before drawling his wand and spelling up his hair into a bun before using the wand as a hairpin. He ran his long fingers over the pages and continued to read.
Harry leaned against his own much thicker hands. It seemed like it had been so long since he saw this side of Draco; the side that wasn’t as preoccupied with appearances. It was the same one who would spend countless hours in his book shop caressing the spines of old books. He lost himself in pages so often. It was the same Draco that read their children fairytales at bedtime and made ridiculous voices for the characters. It was the same one that had thrown ash at him when they cleaned out the flue. Merlin, he was so in love.
“Potter, did you only withdrawal money for school supplies during school?”
“It was all I needed. I did start spending more 3rdyear when we could go to Hogsmeade.”
Draco rolled his eyes and continued. “End of June 1996, interest paid- inheritance transferred from vault 711 to the sum- Who left you over three hundred thousand galleons?”
Harry pulled Albus into his lap. “Oh, that would be Sirius.”
Draco made a face, “So the Alphard branch of the inheritance went to you.”
“Your mom will get the inheritance she deserves. The ministry is working on getting her the Black fortunes that are tied up.”
Draco hummed and continued reading. He muttered to himself while he read. Harry would have been content to watch him all day, but the toddlers were bored. He pulled his wand and began casting fun little Charms to entertain them.
Scorpius was trying to catch the little red sparks Harry was making dance around their heads. Jamie was trying to knock them into his younger brothers and Albus kept trying to take his wand from him.
The adorable scene was eventually broken by Draco. “Do you realize you have you have 4.5 million galleons in your vault?”
“Er… not but that sounds about right.”
Draco stares at him. “You do realize now that the Lestrange’s property has been seized, a large portion of the Malfoy assets seized and Mother still being unable to access her portion of the Black vaults, you are the richest magical being in the British Isles.”
Harry stopped. “Really? That’s sorta brilliant. But I’ll happily hand the title back to your mother.”
“It isn’t the title I want.”
“If you want me to increase what I pay you we can figure that out.”
“I don’t want your bloody money, Potter.”
Harry wanted to ask about that, but Draco continued. “You’re the richest magical being and you’re going through a divorce! She could get half if we don’t figure out what all you’ve inherited, what was willed to you and what the two of you have earned. This entire book is going to have to be combed over. It could take months, not to mention Weaselette will get a fortune!”
“Er… If you’re worried about paying Bletchley for that long, I think I’ll be able to afford it.”
Fire filled Draco’s eyes; Harry settled in for a long scolding.
The Daily Prophet office was filled with the scratching of quills and type-writer keys clicking. When Harry and Draco walked in with their sons, the noise slowly started to die down as the reports noticed the story that had just walked in. They made their way over to the office with Editor inscribed on the door. Leaning on the desk of Cuffe’s assistant, Harry spoke, “We’re here to see, Cuffe. If he’s busy let him know who’s here.”
The next morning Harry walked downstairs to find the freshly printed Prophet laying on top of the mail. The headline read – Harry Potter-Secret Family with Draco Malfoy. The picture below it was when the reporters followed them to the Hoffin’s Pot pub, where they had lunch. It was quite a good picture. Harry was holding Scorpius and Albus on each knee, Jamie was sitting on the booth between him and Draco. Draco was leaning across the table watching Harry with the boys looking rather besotted with the sight.