Universe background: Draco and Harry married, their kids are Scorpius, James, Albus, and Lily.
"You know, I haven't the foggiest idea what people see in these books," Draco drawled, flipping the page with his wand as he walked with it levitated in front of him.
"Yes, you do, Draco. That's why you have your nose buried in that one even while we're trying to get the kids ready for Hogwarts," replied a harassed sounding Hermione.
"Malfoys don't bury their nose in—"
"Yeah we do dad, look at me! I'm Draco Malfoy!" Scorpius cried, snatching his book and holding it to his nose and almost walking into a lamppost, at which Rose and Albus cracked up completely. Harry smirked but wiped it quickly when he saw Draco look over.
Draco sighed. He knew Scorpius and the other teens were at the age of getting under their parents skin for the sheer pleasure of it, but Scorpius turning his "Malfoys don't—" back on him was absolutely the worst thing any teenager had ever sassed their parents with. Ever. Seriously.
"Lighten up, mate. Could be worse," Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "You could have six of them," he stage whispered, looking falsely aghast. Draco thought of the Weasley horde and shuddered. He looked at his step children suspiciously, as if they were about to explode under a gemino curse and multiply before his eyes.
"I agree with dad. One is about right," Rose smirked.
"Me too!" James chimed in.
"Oy, we're right here!" whined Albus. Lily didn't look too phased, holding Rose's hands and gawking at everything they passed in Diagon Alley. She was nearing Hogwarts age too, and this would be her last year at home with them. Harry remembered a certain other redhead girl who was extremely disappointed at being left behind when her brothers went off to Hogwarts without her…
"As I was saying," Draco continued as if there hadn't been a 5-minute interruption. Harry admired his pig-headed ability to say his piece in any situation. "I think these books should have been illegal to publish. They're like a memoir… but about someone else! The truth is tenuous at best and the weak attempts at assembling chaos into something meaningful," he sneered, "Is pathetic."
"Why don't you tell us how you really feel, Draco," Hermione rolled her eyes at him while Ron laughed. The kids ran ahead to goggle at the broomsticks or pranks or whatever else Diagon Alley had in store for them this afternoon.
"I'm just saying. It's been an inconvenience, is all." Draco sniffed.
"Muggles love it though, so I hear," said Harry.
"So she's a squib? Or married to a muggle? Or what?" Ron asked absently.
"Jo? I'm not sure honestly. The only warning I was given is that she wanted to write our story. To be fair, she never made a promise of authenticity, and she said it was purely for entertainment and that it would be an outsider's perspective on the inner working of the events. It's always been fiction."
"Fiction!" Draco exploded. "She writes specifically about us and about battles we were in. She gives details about King's Cross and Diagon Alley."
"No one uses King's Cross anymore though. And the warding around Diagon Alley wouldn't allow muggles to see it anyways, even if they did know about its existence. It's not like my parents can stumble into the wizarding world just because they know about it," Hermione said in her patented explaining-things tone.
"Hermione, don't bother. He isn't actually upset, he just wants to be," Ron said, flashing a friendly smirk over at Draco to let him know he's joking. Draco huffed in response and Harry laced his arm around his waist. Harry pecked Draco on the cheek, silently communicating his sympathy, and Draco let his faux snit drop with an eye roll.
"Daaaaad," Rose and James called at that moment. The parents looked up to where the kids were.
"Oh no," Hermione groaned while the three fathers grinned.
They were in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Several hours later, the troupe set down their bags at a table in the Leaky Cauldron. They let out a collective sigh of relief. Harry went to the bar to order butterbeers while Hermione set about shrinking and sorting the bags they'd accumulated for the kids.
"Honestly, Hermione, not sure what we'd do without you," Draco said, threading a hand through his messy blond hair. He looked over fondly at his four children as they poked through their bags and flipped through their books. Well, Rose flipped through her book and the boys rooted around in the bags. Draco counted his blessings that they'd decided to skip Weasley's Wizard Wheezes today, promising to make a special, separate trip to see Fred and George.
"I've been saying that for more of my life than not, mate. Join the club," Ron leaned over to kiss Hermione, who still blushed, after all these years.
"I can't believe that Philosopher's Stone nonsense was on the 1st year book list."
"They're 11 years old, Draco. Besides, Binns wasn't teaching the history very well for events that happened after his death. It makes sense to start them out with contemporary and adapted history books."
"Hermione Granger advocating the teaching of fiction? At school? Wonders will never cease."
"Draco, maybe we should read the books before judging them," Harry suggested, ever the voice of reason.
"Mmm. I guess we could use some of that unlimited free time we'll have now that Lily will be off at Hogwarts. I suppose not all of my time needs to be used well."
Ron snorted at that while Hermione and Harry looked scathingly at their husbands. Draco found a perpetually receptive audience for his dry humor in a surprising place with Ron, and Ron seemed to take immense pleasure in breaking Draco's façade with a smile or even a laugh. Hermione and Harry tolerated.
"Alright, it's settled them. We're going to read these… Harry Potter books. It'll be… interesting, to say the least."