Sir Flibbitus, or The Defeat of the Germanic Spitting Fairies
Harry Potter gave him a narrow glare. "I'm not exactly taking my clothes off over this situation."
"And may we all thank Merlin for that," Draco said, staring up at the domed ceiling with relief.
"You wish you - "
"I thought we were supposed to be civil?" Draco asked, "Right, Potter?"
As the anger curled up inside of him, Harry took a deep breath and nodded. Sometimes he wished he knew Malfoy's weak point so that the prat could shut up for once.
"Oh, good," Draco said easily. Harry took his revenge in his happiness over how the candle light reflected off Draco's shiny forehead that was steadily growing larger. Ha!
"Of course, we must be civil," Harry said stiffly as if the concept was foreign to him.
"For the sake of Scorpius," Draco said despairingly. "I thought childbirth would be enough, but how he wants me to direct the Hogwarts annual play? What was Headmaster Flitwick thinking?"
"We're co-directors," Harry butted in. Draco gave him a weary stare before shrugging. "How come we never had a play when we were at Hogwarts?"
"We did," Draco said, looking ready to tear out the few remaining strands of blond hair in his head. "I was the star performer three years running."
"Really? Huh."
"There were posters up every single year," Draco continued, aghast.
"Hmm."
"Oh, I suppose you were heinously injured or moping around that time," Draco murmured. "It certainly lifted my spirits," he added brightly.
"You are a horrible, elf twi - "
"Dad!" Albus yelled, wrapping his arms around Harry.
Draco smirked. "Yes, Potter? Something about elves? Do go on?"
Albus look up at him. "You promised not to fight!" Harry swallowed and nodded. Dammit, Al's eyes were impossible to resist. Harry stomped down on the urge to kill. He was past this. He was. It was only the remains of a school boy rivalry with a splash of evil. On Draco Malfoy's side of course. He was going to be civil.
"Yes, yes I did," Harry said, grimacing. Albus nodded and ran off. Probably consorting with Scorpius. Then Harry shuddered. He did not like the word consort.
"Scorpius never asked me not to start brawling," Draco added thoughtfully. "We have this thing called trust."
Harry turned around and walked away very quickly.
It was petty, Harry knew, but he blamed the unfortunate situation on Scorpius Malfoy. It irked him that the Malfoy heir - and he was still flabbergasted that Hermione hadn't managed to find the Malfoys guilty of something and therefore were still fabulously rich - was so calm. All the time. In a Yoda fashion. Not that the young Malfoy would be aware of Yoda. Balding Malfoy, no doubt, still would think that Muggle culture was corruptive.
Right now, Albus was eagerly following the blond boy, nodding when Scorpius pointed. Harry dared not imagine if Scorpius ever asked Albus to jump. He was sure the outcome would be an embarrassing blotch on the Potter family dignity.
"It makes a wellspring of happiness bubble within me to see my son, following the family tradition," Malfoy said, holding a hand to his heart. It was nauseating.
"Oh?" Said Harry, attempting to be polite.
"Scorpius will of course play Sir Flibbitus," said Malfoy. "The legendary folk wizard of Wales who drove out the hordes of Germanic spitting fairies."
"There were other people who tried out for the role," Harry murmured.
Malfoy gave him a scathing stare, "Are you attempting to be amusing? They were dreadful, absolutely dreadful!" As Malfoy's voice rose, a sandy haired boy started weeping hysterically. Harry vaguely remembered him, if only for his burst ear drums.
"There was, um, Thad-something, he was, was okay," Harry said.
"The only serious contender was Scoprius," Malfoy insisted.
It hurt Harry to admit, but Malfoy was right. Scorpius could act. He could sing. He was even rather skilled at faux wand play.
"You've been coaching him, haven't you?" Harry asked.
"Since he was four years old," Malfoy said absently, rushing forward and congratulating Scorpius for winning the role.
Harry had decided that Malfoy would be the one doing the cuts. He hadn't counted on the almost vicious pleasure that Malfoy took in it however. It was, he later thought, rather stupid of him.
The students quavered as Malfoy stood imperiously in front of them. He stalked up and down, stopping in front of a student to congratulate them on their role or their job.
Gradually a bunch of students were all that remained. Malfoy looked at them as if they had gravely disappointed him. Then he shook his head.
"Rehearsals are every Tuesday and Thursday from seven p.m. to nine p.m. Lateness will not be tolerated." The way Malfoy said it, torture would likely would be involved if one was late.
The students however looked terribly excited about the play.
It was during the third week that Harry began to suspect that he too - Merlin forbid it! - was going bald as well. It was the stress, Harry knew.
He could handle becoming the youngest head of the Aurors. But he could not handle directing a school play.
"And no, no, no! Gertrude, you are supposed to be dainty as you wander through the bloodbath. Like a bird, gently floating through the air currents," Malfoy instructed. "You are the gracious Lady Mellovive! Flick the blood off your slippers, as it is the blood of the twisted spitting fairies who are of course your sworn enemies."
But the most likely cause was probably Malfoy.
"Vicious, but graceful, Gertrude!" Malfoy added.
Harry began to suspect that Wizarding culture was not entirely peaceful.
"No," Albus said, staring up in anguish, "No! I won't sacrifice Lady Mellovive for the sake of victory!"
"It is the only way, Sir Silkytoes, it is the only way. For, as thee knowest, the vile spitting fairies are attracted to her sweet purity!" Scorpius replied, his hand stroking his wand.
"But Sir Flibbitus!" Albus grabbed Scorpius's arms and pulled him close. "I am also pure of heart and mind, sacrifice me instead!"
"Sir Silkytoes!" Scorpius gasped. "Surely a man of thou beauty would have - "
"My encounters with the world have been chaste," Albus murmured evenly, yet a faint blush coloured his cheeks. "Sir Flibbitus, I hope that my sacrifice will merit our victory."
"It surely shall, thee will make a ripe treat for the devious spitting fairies," Scorpius gasped.
Albus's chin jutted out stubbornly, "It is my duty," he murmured bravely even as his voice shook slightly.
"I will win this war for thou," Scorpius whispered, "I will drive out the Germanic spitting fairies forever!"
"Cut!" Draco sniffed, "That was beautiful! Beautiful!"
On stage, Albus and Scorpius exchanged triumphant grins.
Harry buried his head in his hands. Internally he cut down the number of grandchildren that he had expected.
"Dad?" Asked Albus.
"Yes Albus?" Harry asked, looking up from the script. He had thought it was a good time to actually read it considering they were performing the next night.
Albus looked sheepish as he embraced his father. "Thanks. For being here. I wasn't sure if Flitwick would agree when I suggested you as directer when Scorpius's father was already one. But he said something about inter house co-operation and that the Sorting Hat was still bothering him," Albus shrugged. "But I know you didn't have to. And that you really, really dislike Mr Malfoy."
"Professor Flitwick, Albus," Harry said numbly. Really, dislike was such a small word for what he felt for Malfoy. Loathing maybe. Albus grinned up at him and scampered off.
"You are such a tool, Potter," Malfoy said, sounding very amused.
"What?" Harry turned and faced Malfoy. "You were there the entire time, weren't you?" Harry said blankly.
"One doesn't need an Invisibility Cloak to be inconspicious," Malfoy said lightly. "And Professor Snape, would undoubtably be turning in his grave over you scolding your son in manners."
"Hmm... hey! Tool? I'm not a tool!" Harry snapped. Malfoy snickered and looked smug. Harry wanted to kick Malfoy in the shin. He manfully restrained himself. "That's Muggle slang," he said instead.
"It would be awfully trite and terribly politically incorrect to say 'know thine enemy'?" Malfoy mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "More like I discovered the many joys of television."
"You?" Harry said, as if Malfoy had consorted with a flock of flamingos. "I thought you would find it corruptive!"
The balding man sighed and looked pained. "Indeed, Potter. My wife is addicted to the vile box and," he shrugged, "I never miss an episode of Doctor Who. Merlin, I can't believe they're still talking about Rose!"
"Pansy watches television?" Harry asked.
Malfoy gave him a look one gave to the terminally stupid. "My wife is a Muggleborn, Potter," he said slowly. "And my relationship with Pansy ended nearly twenty years ago. Turns out she is a lesbian." Malfoy shrugged, "Eh. Earned me a few threesomes."
Well, Harry reflected, that was a surprise.
Ginny squeezed his hand and smiled up at Harry. "Nervous?" She said jokingly.
Unfortunately, Harry was and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt her touch. She looked alarmed and quirked an eyebrow at him.
"It's Albus's first performance," Harry murmured, "In front of all those people."
"He was always our little exhibitionist," Ginny murmured. "It's good that he has friends," she added.
The couple sat in silence for a few seconds.
"I'm not the only one who finds the friendship between Albus and Scorpius Malfoy incredibly awkward, am I?" Harry asked.
"The thoughts that ran through my mind when I read Albus's first letter," Ginny said, shaking her head at the memory.
"Like how Malfoy had been training his son for revenge all these years?" Harry said.
Pause. "Well, no," Ginny laughed. "You didn't, did you? Oh Harry..."
"It was perfectly reasonable!" Harry retorted.
"He was eleven, Harry," Ginny reminded him, "Not some evil mastermind."
Harry was not going to admit that the thought had also crossed his mind.
"We'd better go," Ginny said, standing up, "Don't want to be late!"
"I know what you're thinking," Malfoy said, after he had kissed his wife farewell and directed her to her seat.
"Look," Harry said resignedly, "Just because I'm over forty doesn't mean I can't find a person attractive."
Malfoy stilled. "Oh," he said meaningfully.
"I'm sorry about your wife and well - "
"I'm not leaving Alexis for you, Potter," Malfoy said stiffly. "I am not in love you. In fact, I believe torture sounds preferable."
"What?"
"You find me attractive, the long looks at me, the sighing. I'm not surprised, not really," Malfou murmured, edging away from Harry. "All this time spent together..."
"Oh Merlin..."
"I know, I know, you must be disappointed," Malfoy consoled, at a distance. "But Alexis would castrate me if I ever even considered cheating."
"So would Ginny!"
Malfoy gave him a long look. "You haven't come out to her then?" When Harry opened his mouth Harry waved away his protestations. "I shouldn't judge, I know, but. It's a pity, for her at least."
"I find your wife very attractive!" Harry yelled. "Not you! Never you, you squirrelly ferret faced balding twat!"
"Dad!" Albus shouted, looking very disappointed. "And you were doing so well."
Then Harry tried to convince Albus that it had all been a misunderstanding. Malfoy whispered, "The gentlemen doth protest too much."
Harry wanted to pull what remained of his hair out. Death, maybe, he thought, would be nice.
It all went rather splendidly. Which was a relief. Harry hated to see Albus unhappy.
"I think Scorpius may have a career at the West End!" Malfoy exclaimed, smirking smugly.
"His performance was very good," Harry said absently.
Malfoy started, "Why, yes. Thank you, Potter," he murmured, sounding for the first time pleasant during the long weeks of rehearsal.
Ah, Harry reflected, Malfoy's weak point was his child. Harry smiled and shrugged. It didn't matter so much now.