"Mine!" Draco grabbed the toy broom away from Harry's hands, eliciting a wail of fury and a vigorous smack.
"Mine!" Harry retorted and, snatching the broom back, ran away as fast as his little legs could take him. Draco took off after him and tackled him and the two rolled in the grass, shrieking and giggling with equal volume. Harry finally got possession of the broom, sat on it, and tried to fly away. Unfortunately for Harry, not only did Draco run considerably faster than the child's broom flew, the broom wouldn't get higher than two feet off the ground. Draco quickly pushed the other boy over, grabbed the broom, and took off, this time with Harry in pursuit.
"Boys," Lucius said in a tone of utter, indulgent pleasure.
"They will be boys?" Narcissa asked archly as she poured herself another glass of the iced and fruited wine.
"You object?" Sirius asked her.
The three of them were sitting out on the stone patio that stretched along this part of the back side of the Manor and watching the two boys, the one blond and the other with hair so dark it was nearly black, as they chased after one another on the lawn. A pair of nannies sat closer to the boys, their prim uniforms a starched indication of their opinions on rambunctious children. Late afternoons at the Manor had become a summer tradition, just as winter days often found the boys running through the halls of Grimmauld Place while Narcissa shopped in London. Child-proofing floos against bright boys who genuinely believed they each had two houses of their own and didn't understand why they couldn't just pop over from one to the other was an ongoing struggle. Sirius had fought against the intrusion of a nanny until he'd found Harry climbing stairs on the outside of the bannister and jumping down to the floor below.
"I swear," he'd muttered to Narcissa, "the boy has a death wish."
She'd just handed him the card to the nanny agency without saying a word and Miss Abbott had started the next day.
"Don't like her," Harry had said, face screwed up into an adorable but petulant pout.
"Why?" Sirius had asked.
"Makes me eat carrots," Harry had said, his tone suggesting this was the ultimate indignity.
"Sirius," Narcissa asked now. "Where's Remus?"
"He begged off, as usual" Sirius said. "Seems to think you have a problem with his furry problem."
"Astute of him," Lucius said in a cold drawl.
"Says the man who has the 'I'm an idiot' brand on his arm," Sirius said, leaning back and making at best a pro-forma sneer at his host. He and Lucius had long since come to a cessation of any real hostilities.
"As I recall, your brother had the Mark," Lucius said.
"Reg was also an idiot," Sirius agreed. "He bought into your pureblood dogma as if it would save his life." He took a drink of the very non-fruity fire whiskey in his tumbler. He didn't care for Narcissa's sangria. "It didn't, of course."
"Muggle-borns are a problem," Lucius opined.
"Like Lily?" Sirius nearly growled.
"She was an exceptional witch," Lucius said, dismissing her as an outlier with a wave of his hand. "Brilliant, and, more to the point, willing to leave her Muggle world behind." He eyed Sirius. "I didn't see you eager to leave Harry with his aunt even though the woman was his closest living relative. Dumbledore sat there and bleated about blood wards and protections against the inevitable rise of the Dark Lord - "
"Voldemort," Sirius said, his tone implacable. "The man wasn't a god. We can call him by his name without being struck down."
"Says the mutt who wasn't treated to the sight of torture whenever anyone slipped up and called said Lord by his name."
"His pretentious, made up name," Sirius said.
"My point," Lucius stressed, "is that you don't like Muggles any more than I do or you wouldn't have fought so hard to raise Harry."
"It was what James and Lily wanted," Sirius said, turning away to watch the boys who were now pegging a small ball at one another's heads, broom forgotten, and were laughing hysterically whenever one of them caught, or failed to catch, the missile.
"Not many bachelors would have done it," Lucius said. "You were a wild one, Sirius, and now you're a father even though there was a ready made family waiting to take the boy. You put the motorbike away and took on nappies and bottles and formula. You even made up to that crazy house elf of yours. You really didn't want that boy living with those Muggles."
"Have you ever met Petunia Dursley?" Sirius asked, still watching the pair on the lawn. When Lucius didn't respond he added, "No one would give that woman a magical child. She hated Lily, was jealous of her, and went out and found the least magical husband she could as if to spite them both. I think that man could almost negate magic by his very existence. He certainly negates wonder and joy."
"I went and observed them one day," Narcissa said. "Sirius is quite right. It's as if they live to reinforce stereotypes about Muggles." She took a sip of her fruited wine; Narcissa was always happy to import Muggle customs that she liked like sangria, shoes and quite a bit of fashion. "They do have a nice lawn, however. I'm impressed the Muggles can manage it without magic."
If Lucius didn't spit at the word 'Muggles' it was only because a lifetime of courtesy kept his response to a sneer. "That anyone would have considered letting Dorea Black's grandson be raised by Muggles offends me," Lucius said. "Even if he is a half-blood."
Narcissa coughed delicately into her hand and Lucius looked at her. "We're members of the Order of the Phoenix now, Lucius, even if other than dear Minerva and Sirius none of them know it. Try to remember that we support the rights of Half Bloods and Muggle-borns if you can."
"You aren't implying my foster-son is somehow less than Draco, are you?" Sirius demanded.
Lucius made a face. "Oh, Harry," he said. "I have to admit that Harry is exceptional. Everyone knows that. The Chosen One and all. And we're all raising him properly. He's known his place in the world since he could walk. He and Draco are - "
"Crying," Narcissa said. "He and Draco are crying."
And indeed they were. Both boys had come running up and were telling some complicated tale about garden gnomes stealing their ball and how it wasn't fair."
"You gave it to them," Draco said, his grey eyes overflowing with tears. "It's all your fault."
"I thought they'd give it back," Harry wailed. Grimmauld Place didn't have gnomes; it had, instead, a house-elf who, once he'd realized Harry was Dorea's grandson, had announced that Harry was his person and had begun a campaign of indulgence that made even Sirius look strict.
Sirius picked up a napkin and transfigured it to a replacement ball that he tossed to Harry as Lucius lifted the sniffling Draco onto his lap. "Garden gnomes can be tricky," he said, his tone very serious. "They once took apart my entire playhouse."
"You had a playhouse?" Sirius scoffed.
"Yes, indeed," Lucius said. "And it had a turret where I could watch out for dragons and a green and silver flag." He gave Narcissa a conspiratorial look. "I've always wanted to have that rebuilt. What do you think, dear?"
"I think," she said, "that this would be a great summer to do that. You boys could go draw pictures of what you think it should look like so we can make sure the contractors build it properly."
Harry frowned as he hefted the new ball in his hand. "Drawing?" he asked, doubt evident in his tone. Harry didn't care for anything that supplanted flying and catch.
"It needs a moat," Draco said, already latching on to the idea of his very own playhouse. "For the otters."
"Otters?" Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow at Narcissa.
"He's always been fascinated by otters," she said with a delicate shrug. "Tends to insist they're all his but, whenever we get him a stuffed one, he starts to cry and insists it's not right."
"Kids," Sirius said with a roll of his eyes as both boys went off to draw this playhouse with a moat. "They latch onto the weirdest ideas."
. . . . . . . . . .
"Just look at them" Narcissa said a bit later. The boys had sprawled out across the stones of the patio and had large sheets of white paper in front of them and pots of colored paint arranged in a neat row.
Miss Abbott had helped with that part. Neatness was very important to her.
"A pair of future Slytherin princes," Lucius said. "They'll lead our House to Quidditich domination."
"And get excellent marks," Narcissa said.
Sirius coughed. "You really think Harry's going to be sorted into Slytherin?" he asked. "James' son? Lily's son? He's a Gryffindor through and through. The moment I caught him jumping off the stairs I knew he had a streak of bravery that would put him into red and gold."
"All boys do that," Lucius said. "I've found Draco jumping off the banister too. That doesn't mean he's got more daring than sense; it just means he's a boy."
Narcissa smiled, a somewhat enigmatic expression. "I think we'll all be a bit surprised when the Sorting Hat does its magic," she said. "But the boys will be princes whether they're in silver or gold."
Lucius looked at his wife. "What," he asked with careful deliberation, "Do you know?"
She glanced over at the boys. "I know someone will be out here tomorrow morning applying cleaning charms to these stones," she said. Lucius turned and groaned. Harry had tipped over one of the paint pots and was spreading the red paint along the stones with careful attention to detail.
"At least it's paint," Lucius said. "Last time – "
"I know," Narcissa said.
"How long do we have?" he asked.
Sirius leaned forward, drinks and quibbles about future Houses forgotten. "If the timeline remains relatively intact, until their fifth year," Narcissa said, her eyes on the boys.
"About ten more years, then," Sirius said, his voice hard. "And Dumbledore is still up there playing chess with people's lives."
Sirius had never forgiven Dumbledore for planning to let him go to Azkaban without a trial.
"Blood wards," he spit out now. "Such utter bullshite. And Snape teaching at Hogwarts."
"Well, Snape did turn traitor, or so Dumbledore claims," Narcissa said. "Rejecting Voldemort and working for the Light and all." She took another sip of her drink as she watched Harry continue to push the red paint around the stones.
"Do you believe that?" Sirius asked with a sneer. "Snivellus would never do anything other that try to preserve his own skin." He glanced at Lucius and added, "A model Slytherin."
"Self-preservation is hardly a sin, Sirius," Lucius said. "I realize your mother was a tad extreme – "
"I assume we are now using 'a tad extreme' as a Britishism for 'batshite crazy'?" Sirius asked.
" – but I do wish you'd not judge all of us by Severus or Walburga."
Sirius sagged back in his seat and regarded his cousin. "Oh, you're all right, Cissa," he admitted. "And your husband is surprisingly palatable." He smirked. "And Andromeda."
Narcissa's smile became tight. "She continues to choose not to see us," she said.
"Really?" Sirius needled. "I can't imagine why she'd be resentful."
"I was very young," Narcissa said, "and I had no reason to defy my parents."
"And now you do," Sirius said.
Narcissa's eyes never moved from the boys. Harry had added some blue to his red paint and was swirling it in to make a muddy purple but Draco was bent over his paper and drawing a castle with immense care, his tongue stuck out as he concentrated. "Now I do," she said, "and not just my parents. I'll defy the whole world for that boy if I have to."
Lucius reached over and laced his fingers through hers. "As will I," he said. "No one is going to brand our son. No one is going to threaten him. Not even the Dark L… not even Voldemort."
. . . . . . . . . .
Helen Granger looked at stuffed dragon floating in the air in front of her daughter. "Honey," she said, "What are you doing?"
"Dragons love to fly," the girl said as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "So he's flying."
Helen blinked a few times. She hadn't ever raised a child before but she was fairly sure that most of them were unable to suspend their toys in midair.
"I think," she said slowly, "that maybe you shouldn't let anyone but me see you make your dragon fly."
"Because no one else can do it," Hermione said.
"That's right," Helen said. She paused and then, wanting to change the subject, asked "What's your dragon's name?"
"Dragon," the girl said.
"Just 'Dragon'?" Helen asked, surprised. Hermione usually gave her stuffed toys elaborate names. The horse was, 'Brown Spotted Sleek Clover' and the cat was 'Fluffy Kitty Princess Girl'. "Why just 'Dragon'?"
"Because that's his name," Hermione said. Dragon settled to the ground and the girl stood up, toy apparently forgotten. "I'm going to go draw now. Can I have juice?"
"No," Helen said automatically. "Juice rots your teeth
. . . . . . . . . .