Disclaimer: I own nothing. All hail JKR.
It's funny the tricks time can play when one is either eager or loath to do something. Draco found himself wavering between the two extremes, and it seemed that Saturday arrived within mere hours. He felt uncertain of what to expect, and it worried him that he had no idea what to say, or how to conduct himself. Granger-Malfoy hadn't been much help; she said to just go with whatever happened, that it had worked for her at the playground. She also admonished him against hanging onto the past too much, or focusing on blame. According to her, that would be a recipe for failure. Then she told him that if he started to get nervous or frustrated, he should think of Scorpius. He wondered for the hundredth time if he should cancel the meeting.
Honestly, if he didn't know how intelligent his wife was, and how often she was right, he would have told her she was barmy. Perhaps he'd say it to her based on general principles when he got home. He loved it when she was riled. This idea led to involuntary thoughts of the way she looked with her jaw set, eyes sparking, and electricity crackling through her aura...
Wonderful. Now he had something new to worry about. He frowned, and began reciting dates in Magical History to himself. It took 'til 1613 for him to calm down.
At 1:50, he Apparated to the gardens, and was surprised to find his father already there. The Malfoy patriarch was perched elegantly on a stone bench, the very picture of nonchalance.
Except that Lucius was picking at his cuticles, which told Draco that his father was every bit as nervous as he. The younger Malfoy smiled to himself at this, and relaxed a smidgen.
Lucius stood as his son approached, and gestured to the spot next to him.
"Draco. You're alone?"
What do I call him? Lucius? Father? "Good Afternoon. Yes, we felt that it should be just you and me today."
His father nodded at the soundness of the reasoning, though he looked a bit disappointed. His son refrained from comment and filed the impression away for later analysis.
They sat, the older man leaning back on the bench while his son perched near the edge. Lucius recognized immediately that he would have to handle this delicately, or Draco was likely to flee in the middle of conversation. He had to admit that it hurt his heart for a moment, seeing how uncomfortable he made his own flesh and blood.
You disowned him. You publicly announced that he was no longer of the House of Malfoy. For all intents and purposes, he isn't your flesh and blood. Not now. And who do you have to blame for that, you foolish old man?
Lucius rubbed his temples lightly, then dropped his hands and attempted to smile. It was more grimace than grin, and the very definition of "awkward." Draco was about to ridicule it when he heard his wife's voice in his head, ordering him to be patient, and show some compassion. He told the voice that he didn't do compassion. The voice snarked back to just imitate her, then. That like any other ape, he was a decent mimic.
Once again he had to remind himself that it was impossible to strangle voices in his head. Pity.
Lucius' gray eyes locked on his son. "I'm not sure how to begin this conversation. I thought I knew what I wanted to say, and of course you would hang on every word the way you did as a child, and all would immediately be well. It is obvious that is not the case."
The younger man took a deep breath. Compassion, remember? At least fake it! "You've asked me here, and you're saying what is actually in your mind. I'd call that a start."
"This is going to sound trite, but how have you fared? I know you took the money from your inheritance from Grandmother Black to buy your home. I also know you are employed by the Ministry. Have you been... all right?" Draco found himself taken aback by the concern in his father's face.
"Money was tight at first, and I had to adjust to living as the 99% of society not born into the Malfoy family does. We're quite comfortable presently. I'm sure you've heard that Hermione has written a series of instruction manuals that explain concepts in easy-to-understand terms. I guess the Muggle counterpart is a book line with "for Dummies" in the title. I told her she certainly was qualified to write something like that, after having to simplify everything over the years for those two buffoons she calls friends."
"Indeed. I saw the newest edition in Flourish and Blotts. A how-to on potion making."
"I'm surprised you remember that."
"Remember it? I bought a copy. Tell her I was especially impressed with her description of brewing Amortentia in Chapter 12. I disagreed with one of the ingredients in the Draught of Suspension in Chapter Eight, though. Belladonna works better than Dragon's Blood. At least it did for me."
Draco wore an expression of pleased surprise. "Well, if we ever make it to having dinner as a group, at least I know you'll have something to discuss with my wife."
"Dinner as a family, Draco."
The left corner of Draco's mouth went up. "One step at a time."
"As you wish. Though if I recall correctly, she isn't to be referred to as your wife. Her name is Hermione." There was the smallest twinkle in Lucius' eyes.
The right corner of his son's mouth joined the left.
"So we've established that while you have not been able to swim in Galleons, your family has been doing satisfactorily financially. What of your social life? How have you and Hermione spent your time?"
"We see Pansy and Blaise occasionally. And unsurprisingly, the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio are around quite often, with their respective spouses. Potter and I frequently wind up working on cases together since the Aurors often require counsel from Magical Law. Zeus alone knows what kind of trouble those fools would get into without guidance. We won't be doing each other's hair and gossiping anytime soon, but we're capable of socializing. Once he got over his hero complex and I rid myself of jealousy, we found we have a lot in common."
"And Weasley?" Lucius didn't bother worrying about looking down his nose when he asked about the ginger; Draco's letter had mentioned only the elder Malfoy's treatment of Muggleborns. Comportment regarding redheaded idiots had not been covered.
"He was pretty hacked off when I took up with Hermione. Eight years later, we have a 50/50 chance of hexing each other when in the same room. It's progress. We try to make it 60/40 in favor of behaving on special occasions like Mione's birthday."
"Really? Has that worked out well?"
"We consider ourselves successful if we manage to get out of her sight before anything starts. The first couple of years I couldn't believe how much she missed of what we were doing to each other..." Draco trailed off, smiling to himself.
Lucius waited for the rest of the thought.
"Turns out she saw every bit. I caught her smirking after I gave Weasley a jackass' ears and tail, coupled with an uncontrollable bray."
"As I said in my letter, hidden wicked streak."
"Trust me, it's not that hidden."
"I wonder if it will manifest in young Scorpius." Lucius looked hopeful.
"Already has. I knew three years ago that he's bound for Slytherin."
"Do tell."
"When he was three, we were having dinner one night, and broccoli was a side dish. It had a burned, inedible appearance. A House Elf was blamed for cooking it improperly. Thing is, I had been watching closely, and the vegetable was fine when it got to the table. Scorp hates broccoli almost as much as baths. His magic manifested spontaneously."
"Ruining a vegetable is not necessarily a Slytherin move."
"No, but his being able to maintain an air of complete innocence was. He looked his mother right in the eye and denied he'd done anything. When she turned away, the nervy little bugger gave me the Malfoy smirk."
A rare smile lit up Lucius' face. "Certainly reassuring to hear that he likely won't end up in Gryffindor."
"One can only hope. I've told Hermione that unless Scorpius suffers a traumatic head injury, we can begin buying everything in green now. I'll refrain from sharing her response. It didn't make any sense and it was anatomically impossible."
His father smirked, then cleared his throat, signaling a change of topic. "As I said in my letter, I should not have removed you from the Malfoy family tree, and I am sorry. I would like to welcome you back, and recognize your family. We should also discuss your returning to Malfoy Industries."
"As I said earlier, one step at a time. We may be able to speak eventually on rejoining the House of Malfoy, but after eight years, an immediate reinstatement is a bit sudden."
Lucius looked baffled, then disturbed at his son's reaction. "And Malfoy Industries?"
"I have a job that pays well, and I'm good at it. Malfoy Industries may be in my future, but it isn't at this time."
"But-"
"Father." The resolve in Draco's eyes was clear.
The elder Malfoy shut his mouth with a snap.
"You must understand that I have not been idle these past years. At first, your rejection hurt terribly. We both know how hard I tried to win your approval when I was a child."
His father had the grace to look ashamed, and he remained silent.
"Hermione was the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn't believe I could love anyone as much as I did her. Then Scorpius was born. We've built a life, and we're happy. That doesn't mean there isn't room for you and Mother in there, but I won't throw away everything I've worked for. I'm proud of my accomplishments, my family, and myself."
Lucius murmured something under his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, I'm proud of you, too."
Both men sat lost in their thoughts for a moment.
"So...hot dogs." Draco smiled slightly.
"Exceptionally tasty. I've been wondering what they're made of, exactly. It doesn't appear to be dog."
"It isn't."
"What are they, then?"
"Trust me, Father. You don't want to know." Draco didn't miss how Lucius lit up at the appellation.
Draco checked his watch, and let his father know that he had to leave. As he stood, the younger man removed a small bag of crisps from his robes. "For you. Hermione sends her regards."
His father was clearly pleased, though Draco couldn't say if it was because of Hermione's gesture, or simply the old man's fondness for crisps.
"Please thank her for me. I do hope you will consider having dinner, at least as a group."
"I think dinner as a group could work. I'll talk to Hermione."
With that, two very happy wizards returned to their respective homes.