CHAPTER TWO: Strange Things Will Happen
Little Percy knew that his Papa is really sweet and loving when they are at home, but he also thinks it's cool how papa can scare people whenever they are outside. His posture is perfect, his movements are graceful and flawless, and he arranges the flasks in shelves with careful precision. Maybe that is why mean people seem to not mess up with his Papa's shop.
"Papa," he says, tapping on his papa's thigh to get his attention, "are we buying Al and Score presents because they have high scores, hmm?" He smiles at the memory of his brothers' glee upon receiving their OWL results. Both of them have received straight Os in all their subjects. Al has even received a strong commendation letter from the test masters for his skill in Potions and Herbology, Score for his aptitude in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration.
Papa and Daddy have promised to treat the family at Barrington Alley to celebrate, along with buying things that they might need for the new term. Al has asked for more advanced potions ingredients set while Score for a wand holster. Percy does not understand why they want those things when, clearly, sweets and life-size bubble-maker set are more exciting.
Draco abandons taking inventory of the potions still available in his shop to look down at his son. "Daddy is with them right now, buying what they need, baby. Did you want to get gifts for your brothers?"
Percy's eyes widen and shine at Draco's words. His round cheeks sport a healthy pink flush and starts bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Can I, Papa? Can I? Buy presents for Al and Score?" Little fists bunch on the side of his thick dark robes.
"If you want," Draco chuckles fondly. Percy's sweetness is incredible, but he really hopes that his youngest son will not become a Hufflepuff. He makes another note on his clipboard about his stock potions, thinking that maybe Albus is ready to start brewing for and help in managing the apothecary. Merlin knows how proud he has felt when his sons received commendation letters from the Council for OWLs. He has never heard of anyone from Hogwarts being recognized for OWLs, even Hermione Granger.
"Papa! Papa, you're not listening!" Small hands tug at his dark robes.
"Sorry, sweetheart," he sighs, putting down the clipboard, and lifting his little blonde bundled in red wizard's robes into his arms. "You have my full attention now, little prince." He rubs the tips of his nose against Percy's, who giggles. "What do you have in mind then?"
"We make something special for them, Papa! Please?" Percy says in a rush, placing his hands on his Papa's cheeks. "Before Daddy, Jamie and them come back?"
"What kind of 'something special,' dear?" Draco asks, looking into his little son's eyes. Unlike the twins, Percy has complete heterochromia iridum. One of his eyes is Draco's molten silver, while the other is Harry's emerald. He remembers how, when Percy has been born, the healers and Hermione have said that his appearance—a perfect balance of Harry and Draco— is the effect of his and Harry's soul bond. During the times whenever he feels insecure and undeserving of Harry's love, all he has to do is to look at their sons and remember that if Harry does not love him, Jamie, Al, Score, and Percy will not be here.
Harry loves him and their love has borne fruit to four, bright, beautiful, loving and talented sons. They have a happy family and most people have stopped attacking or taunting him on the streets for the Dark Mark that used to be on his left arm. Draco feels as if his heart is fit to burst.
"Papa?" Small knuckles wipe the tears that have formed at the corners of his eyes. Percy looks at him worriedly. "Why are you crying?" he whispers.
Draco chuckles, catches Percy's two hands and presses them against his lips. "I'm just too happy, Percy. Papa's become too emotional and soft, don't you think, baby?" He gives another shaky laugh.
Percy looks at him seriously. "No, Papa. Daddy says it is okay for boys to cry when they're sad or happy. Daddy says we must not be 'shamed of our feelings." He flings his arms around his papa's neck and mumbles, "I'm happy always, too, Papa, because the un'verse put me in this family." He looks at Draco's face again, an adorable frown and pout on his face. "Whenever I imagine that the un'verse made Mark McLaggen a Malfoy-Potter instead of me, and I became a McLaggen I want to cry and be angry."
Draco gives out something between a laugh and a sob. He feels tears prickling once more at the corners of his eyes, the warmth and love in his chest becoming unbearable. Even with his Mother and Father at the Manor, he has never felt this loved or wanted. He has never thought he'll be able to want to love and care for other people other than himself, but he does. Only to Harry. Only to their sons.
"Oh, dear Perseus," he says, brushing his son's ash blonde hair to the back of his head. "There can only be you for all of us, baby. Don't forget that."
After another pat on the cheek, Percy starts babbling about his ideas for a present that his brothers can bring to Hogwarts. ("So that they'll always think of us or remember us whenever we're lonely, Papa," he says.) He tells Draco his ideas and the things he wants to happen and asks Draco if they can be possible. He still does not know much about magic and potions; he's only started being homeschooled this year, but Jamie has given him books about magic for children like him. He has been reading them, but he knows that it is always better to ask Papa and Daddy. They are more knowledgeable and powerful wizards, after all.
Father and son sit on the couch in the middle of the apothecary, where customers usually wait for their orders. Draco places Percy on his lap and lets his son brainstorm his preferred gift to the twins. He is content in watching the bright, bright life that he and Harry created, only giving occasional comments and suggestions.
They do not notice the figure by the entrance of the apothecary, looking at them with thinly-veiled rage and contempt.
"Dad, you're planning something for Papa, aren't you?" Score asks his Daddy as they sat on the reading area at Flourish and Blotts, waiting for Al to choose new potions books. His purchase already rests on his lap, a set of books on Magical Defense and Transfiguration theories.
Harry raises an eyebrow at his son, a habit he got from Draco. "What makes you say that?" Years of being an Auror and conducting undercover cases have made Harry more capable of hiding his emotions, but not to his husband. Score, Al, and Jamie are also getting better in reading him.
"Al noticed how you looked at the stuff in the jeweler's shop while we were waiting for my wand holster," Score replies, smirking at his Dad. He stretched on the couch. "Don't worry, Dad, we won't tell. Just tell us if you need help. You know, this is for Papa, after all. No matter how sappy the two of you are, we really love you." He smirks at his Dad.
Harry grins; he is perfectly aware, of course, that his sons do not mind his and Draco's excessive displays of affection to each other. They seem to even like it—secretly, of course—because it keeps the family intact and comfortable. Over the years, the children have seen enough divorces in their social circles to be afraid for their own home. Just last year, Ron and Hermione have divorced.
"Actually, I want to marry your Papa again," he whispers, looking at Score seriously.
"What?! That's bloody fantastic!" a gleeful Albus says, walking towards them, carrying two tomes about medieval potions. He sets them on Score's lap, who grunts, and sits beside their Dad.
Score snorts and says, "And sickeningly sweet." He is grinning, though.
"Even if this is one of those romantic things Muggle romantics do, Papa will be delighted," Al says, clasping his Dad's hand in both of his. "You should propose to him again, Daddy!"
"Papa will faint, maybe. Or he'll cry—that's one of the things that will make it worth it, I think," Score grins.
"There will be no more doubt that no two wizards have loved and valued each other as much as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy-Potter."
"Yup, no doubt about it."
The twins look at each other and grin. Simultaneously, they turn to their father and say, "We'll help you in everything, Dad. What can we do?"
"Actually, I want to propose again on Valentine's Day," Harry admits, feeling really foolish in front of his sons. Luckily, said sons do not comment on his preferred date. Before they can say anything else, a hand clamped on Harry's shoulders and he is dragged into a fierce hug.
"Harry! It's good to see you again!"
Harry finds ginger hair buried in his chest. "G-Ginny?!"
Ginny Weasley, his ex-girlfriend, steps back from him and grins shyly. "Sorry, couldn't help myself. I missed you, Harry! It's been, what, seven years? How are you?"
Harry smiles at her, glad that they can still be friends after her terrible fits of anger first, on their breakup, and then, his marriage with Draco. "I'm doing great, Gin. How about you? How was Egypt?" He motions for her to sit at the couch next to theirs and both of them sit down.
"Egypt is fine. Good thing the Daily Prophet's still selling, there," she chuckles, tucking a strand of her long, ginger hair behind her ear. She eyes Harry greedily, not missing how he's gotten fitter and more handsome at forty-two. His green eyes are brighter than ever and he is sporting a very healthy and attractive tan.
Then she notices the two boys eyeing her warily beside Harry. Her hand flies to her mouth and she gasps, "Oh! Harry, you seem to have done such a good job on your boys." She leans forward and pats Harry's knee affectionately. "Albus and Scorpius look so handsome. Hello, boys! You were just so small the last time I've seen you."
Score and Al give her a nod and say, "Hello, Ginny." They stand up, carrying the books, and address Harry. "We'll pay for these now, Daddy."
Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Score cuts him off, "We've got your money bag already, Dad." He brandishes a deep red pouch at Harry, grinning mischievously.
Al says, "Also, we've got to hurry; Jamie, Papa and Percy will be waiting at the apothecary." He nods once more at the woman who still has her hand on his Dad's knee. "See you around, Ginny."
Ginny swallows her annoyance at being addressed with just 'Ginny' as she watches the two tall boys walk toward the counter. Harry's sons really are as handsome as her nieces describe them, but she dislikes the fact that one of them is a Slytherin. And it is Albus, the dark-haired, young man, of all four. She tones down the rage she feels at the implication of his final words to her; as if he expects her to be gone after they have paid at the counter.
She clears her throat, and turns back to Harry. "So Harry, how's married life at forty-two?"
Harry laughs and she ignores the way his eyes seem to glow brighter when he says, "Oh, everything is amazing, Gin. Draco's perfect and our boys are amazing. I've never thought that I can be this happy in a marriage. How about you? Plan on getting married yet? You should."
Ginny smiles sweetly, ignoring once more how Harry has shifted away so her hand falls from his knee. "Oh, I do intend to get married, Harry, but those plans would have to wait a little more, I'm afraid."
"Well, whatever your plans are, you know you've got my support," he replies earnestly, before turning around to see if the boys have finished. He stands up and smiles down at Ginny. "I think the boys and I have to go. We have to pick up Draco and Percy at the apothecary."
Ginny stands up and resists the urge to scowl when Harry steps back to subtly avoid her hug. She smiles at him, setting into memory his face as much as she can. "I'll see you around, yeah, Harry? Dinner sometime, maybe?"
"Sure, why not?" Harry claps his hand on her shoulder briefly. Emerald eyes briefly meet her deep, brown ones. "Just say hello to the Weasleys for me, 'kay? We'll drop by at Christmas." With that, he leaves her to approach his sons, who have been waiting for him outside the shop.
Ginny sinks back down at the couch with a huff, her arms crossed over chest. She has not expected that Harry's had another child with Draco Malfoy and that the Gryffindor is still stupidly happy over the marriage. She swallows the bitterness that seems to choke her down; she's supposed to be the perfect spouse. She's supposed to be the one having the amazing kids with Harry.
Tears of resentment, regret, and anger are threatening to spill from her eyes, and she angrily rubs at them. She's forty-one years old, for Merlin's sake, and she's crying over her long-standing, childhood crush.
I love Harry, she tells herself. She wants him. She remembers the two sixteen-year-old boys a while ago, thinking that they are not even supposed to exist. Harry Potter's children are supposed to come from her.
Al looks up from Much Advanced Potions-Making Theories for the Ambitious Potions Master, one of the books they've gotten from Flourish and Blots. He looks at his Papa, who has just called his attention.
"Yes, Papa?" he asks, carefully closing the book he's been reading on his lap, hidden under the table. Of course, this can never have escaped Draco's notice.
"Albus, I know how excited you are about your new books, but we would all appreciate it if you join the family conversation while waiting for our food, don't you think, dear?" says Draco, his expression fond and understanding. Al blushes, understanding what his Papa is thinking. Since Jamie has started travelling around Asia for his knowledge management business, they've rarely had dinners with their family complete.
"Sorry," Albus says, feeling suddenly ashamed of himself. He looks at his Papa and Daddy across the table apologetically. They smile back. He feels a light thump on his back from his left and sees Jamie grinning at him.
"So, Albie—" he starts.
"Don't call me Albie, Jamie!" Al complains heatedly, amidst the snickering from Score beside him. At sixteen, he detested his childhood nickname, much less dignified than Score's Cori.
Jamie ignores him but the corners of his mouth curl up slightly, "—why don't you tell me how you're faring in your Potions research? I'm getting pretty tired of our Gryffindor Quidditch Captain talking about Defense and strategies against our houses."
"Oy! At least I can play Quidditch rather well, thank you very much," Score huffs, and Jamie laughs at him. He looks as if he's about to say more, but Percy pulls on the front of his robes to get his attention. The little blonde has declared that he prefers to eat in his big brother's lap rather than on the comfortable children's chair provided by the restaurant.
"Score, tell me more about Quidditch games," he says to his older brother, though it sounds more like an order. Score sighs and tells his little brother about their last match against Ravenclaw, partly because he feels smug against winning against his older brother's old house.
Jamie and Al roll their eyes at their smug brother, and the latter starts describing his research on an antidote for Amortentia for his Potions Masters applications. Draco joins his sons' conversations in Potions while Harry helps Score in explaining Quidditch rules to Percy.
The family is in Maestro Giuseppe's, a five-star Italian restaurant in Barrington Alley, where Harry and Draco are sure they will not be disturbed by Daily Prophet paparazzi and have their family day ruined. They've ordered the house's special 36-inch pizza for, surprisingly, their boys have become fond of the muggle food.
They are seated in the restaurant's private dining room; Maestro Giuseppe Bernini, the owner, readily gives this to the Malfoy-Potters, being distinguished patrons of his restaurant. This way, their privacy is assured. The wide room, decorated in browns and whites, with the wide round table and comfortable chintz chairs will keep out any reporter—Animagus or not—and repel any Reconnaissance spells. Draco and Harry do not want to subject their sons to the jaws and fangs of the press. Harry also secretly favors this restaurant because it's held no prejudice against Draco's past during the first time they've visited here.
He runs his fingers through Percy's hair; he has transferred on his lap since he's begun telling him and Score about his own Quidditch games when he was in Hogwarts. Score, no matter how many times he has heard them already, listens attentively and is able to ask fresh questions to Harry about strategies.
"Daddy, you played against Papa?!" Percy squeals excitedly, scrambling up on the front of Harry's evergreen robes so he is kneeling in his Daddy's lap. Draco, Jamie, and Al stop their conversation to look at Percy, staring at Harry with bright, eager eyes. "Papa is a good Quidditch player too, Daddy?"
Harry chuckles and looks at Draco playfully. "Were you a good Quidditch player, Papa?"
Percy turns to Draco with his bright green and silver eyes, fists bunching and creasing the shoulders of Harry's robes. He can't believe he did not know this before! His Papa and Daddy, playing against each other! His Papa glares at his Daddy and says, "What do you think, baby?"
Percy climbs to Draco's lap and smiles widely. "Of course I think you are a good Quidditch player, Papa." He nods, as if agreeing with himself, earning a few snickers from Al and Score. "Score is a very good Quidditch player because you and Daddy are good Quidditch players, right?"
"Of course," sniffs Score, looking smug.
Al sticks his tongue out at him, and says, "Arrogant Gryffindor git."
Jamie laughs, and pinches Percy's cheek. "You want to be Quidditch player, Lil?" During his time at Hogwarts, he's also played as Chaser for the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, giving him more avenues to taunt Scorpius, who's been the Gryffindor Seeker since his first year, like Harry.
"I dunno," Percy mumbles. He scrunches his eyebrows again, thinking; he pouts. "Don't want to be teased by Score or Al or you, though."
"Look how your excessive teasing has been giving Perseus different kinds of ideas, boys," Draco chastises. He strokes his youngest son's hair and says, "No one will be teasing you meanly about anything you choose to do, baby. Papa and Daddy will make sure of that."
Jamie laughs, and then says. "Oh, but Percy, then you can taunt Daddy and Score about beating Gryffindor once you're in Hufflepuff." Score opens his mouth to protest, but his Papa beat him into it.
"Jamie! Don't go putting ideas in your brother's mind," Draco chastises once more, glaring at his oldest son. Jamie looks so much like Harry; he's inherited the raven-black, messy hair, tall height, and build, except for the need for glasses. His nose and eyes are from Draco. At nineteen, he has been able to make his own name in being a knowledge management specialist in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Draco only regrets that he has to work from one country to another majority of the year.
Harry chuckles while sipping his tankard of butterbeer (Draco will not let him drink Firewhisky in front of the boys during family dinners). Hogwarts Houses have always been a touchy topic for Draco, and the boys do take advantage of it. He is pleased, though, that House rivalry is merely a source of good-natured teasing and banter whenever they are all together. Jamie's witty and off-handed comments can rile up his Papa, loosening him up whenever he is too wound up and worried.
Al seems to have forgotten about his book and watches as Jamie tries to convince a pouty Percy into joining the Hogwarts Quidditch team. Score joins in, assuring the baby blonde that Jamie can never tease Percy as long as he is there. Draco just lets his sons joke around, stroking Percy's small back. As far as he is concerned, though, he does not mind if Percy becomes a Hufflepuff or chooses to be a star Gobstones player, as long as his son is happy; not that he will say that in front of his older sons. They will be teasing Percy more.
Apparently, the family teasing on Harry's "sappiness" is enough without him being made fun of, in Draco's opinion. He does know when to put down his foot, but he is satisfied in seeing their boys comfortable and trusting in his and Harry's presence. Also, Draco's put enough trust in his and Harry's way of raising them up to believe that they know their boundaries.
"Papa," a small voice whispers in his ear. Percy has leaned in close to his ear so Jamie or Score will not hear him. They have started their own discussions with Harry about the Puddlemere United's chances at the World Cup next year, anyway.
"Yes, popcorn?" Draco whispers back, turning his face a little so that his cheeks brush Percy's. Harry, who sits close to Draco and whose hand is resting on his lower back, hears them anyway. He smirks at the muggle pet names his husband can't help but call their sons sometimes.
Percy giggles a little at the name his Papa called him, remembering the sweet, warm and buttery snack Daddy has given him in lieu of riding the roller coaster, last year. He has wanted to ride, because Al and the others would, but he was too young, Papa said. Daddy has bought him the popcorn instead, as they waited for Al, Jamie, and Score's ride to finish.
His small fist flies to his mouth to stifle his giggles. Draco smiles; he is fully aware of how funny Percy finds the weird endearments. "Papa, I want to play Quidditch and be good so I can play with you, Daddy, Jamie, Al and Score," his little one whispers excitedly. "But don't tell them that; it's a surprise, okay?"
"My lips are sealed," Draco whispers back as Percy leans back so they can stare at one another. He holds up his small pinky and Draco curls his own around it. "Promise."
Percy smiles sweetly at him, and kisses the tip of his nose. He turns swiftly, however, at the door when it opens. Probably too hungry now, Draco thinks fondly. Pizza has become a family favorite and he would never have thought he'll like the weird, savory pastry-ish food. It's been the first muggle food Harry has introduced to him when they have first become friends during Eight Year.
A petite, uniformed girl steps through the door and clears her throat. The family turns to her and she seems frozen a moment that she has the Malfoy-Potters' attention. She clears her throat again and says, "Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Malfoy-Potter, sirs, the President of Magic of the United States of America is requesting for a word."
Vaguely, Draco is reminded of house-elves by the girl's choice of words, but he promptly ignores it and stares at Harry. He has not met the Magic President of America in his entire life, but Harry has worked on a big case in the far-off country, saving the President in the process. A grand ball has been held in Harry's honor, but Harry has barely stayed for half an hour then, eager to get back to Draco who was eight and a half months pregnant with Percy.
"Thank you. We'll receive the President here," Harry says, with his Head Auror and Chief of the International Task Force Against the Dark Arts tone. Draco thinks that he must probably remind his husband that a leader of a very wealthy country asking for permission to his presence goes against the political norms, and he should be more flustered than the formal and domineering that he is. He does not, though. This is Harry Potter beside him, the Man-Who-Lived-Twice, Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Chosen One, and a President who wants to meet him in a supposed family dinner is the one who should be flustered.
Al, the Slytherin, is also puzzled by this request from the President of Magic of America. Like his Papa, he does not miss the concession of power in the request for his Daddy's permission before being admitted to his—their —presence. He sits up straightly, ignoring at how his heart starts beating faster in awe of the recognition of his Daddy's power.
Jamie is unfazed; he has met many powerful people who have treated him with awe once they've discovered he is Harry Potter's oldest son. He is probably expecting the same attitude towards his Daddy from a President. Score, on the other hand, just shrugs and takes a squirming Percy from his Papa and into his lap once more, letting his fathers deal with the situation.
"Score, Score, why is a Persident here?" Percy asks him quietly. His hand is on his older brother's neck, but he keeps on twisting in Score's arms, trying to catch a glimpse of the door. His Daddy and Papa have stood up. "And what does he want with Daddy? He's not… mad, isn't he?"
The little blonde looks so worried that Score has to rub the back of his shoulders and bounce him on his lap to soothe him. "He's not mad, Score, and if he is, Daddy and Papa can deal with him. Besides," he smirks when Percy meets his eyes, "he probably just wants some of our pizza."
"Pizza," Percy echoes, giggling uncontrollably. Al and Jamie seem to have heard what he's said because the former giggles with Percy while the latter chokes on his mug of butterbeer.
"Scorpius, you git," Jamie grins at him fondly, getting out his wand to dry the front of his white robes.
"Ministers and Persidents eat pizza too," giggles Percy, who has stuffed his fist into his mouth but can't stop giggling. "You think Kingsley likes pizza with Ha—Haway—Hawwyan toppings?"
"Boys," Draco says, not able to ignore the laughter from his sons, imagining Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt putting anchovies and pineapples in his pizza. He knows, though, that Harry can see the fondness and amusement shining in his eyes. They are both standing, waiting for their unexpected 'guest.'
Jamie clears his throat loudly over the snickers of his younger brothers, and takes another sip from is mug—trying not to laugh with them. He's missed this, really—the natural fondness, teasing and companionship at home. He's found that nothing can compare to his fathers' cooking; chess games with Papa and talking about his travels with his Daddy. He's missed being made a teddy bear and the receiving end of Percy's questions and stories; he admits, playing Quidditch or just flying with Albus and Scorpius, too.
Just then, a tall, well-built man dressed in crisp, violet robes entered the private dining room. He is almost as tall as Harry, his brown hair is slicked off his face, and his eyes are a deep chocolate brown. "Head Auror Potter!" he says enthusiastically, taking Harry's hand and shaking it with both of his. "I heard that you are within the premises and I just could not help but want to meet you and your lovely family."
His voice is deep and earnest, and his gestures are not without flair and practiced precision. Al thinks that this man has been doing public speaking for all his life. He finds himself amused, however, at how his Daddy only smiles slightly at him.
"President Ashford," he says. "I must say it is a surprise to see you in Barrington Alley." He does not ask why the President wants to see him, but lets the question hang in the silence after his reply.
"Call me, Christopher, Head Auror Potter—"
"Harry."
"Well, Harry, it is, then," the President smiles earnestly at him then turns to Draco, taking in his pale features. "You're Draco Malfoy-Potter, I'm sure. I've heard so much about the sheer pale beauty of the Malfoys, and I am ashamed to say now that they did not do you justice." He bows a little.
Al hears Score snort and he swats his twin by the shoulder.
Draco, who is not averse to being called beautiful, smirks, but he draws nearer to Harry when the latter wraps his arm around his waist. "Thank you, President." He turns to the boys, who have been watching the exchange intently, "Our sons."
At that, his sons stand up as gracefully and smoothly as they have been taught. Draco thinks he's never been prouder of them. "Our oldest, James; he is a specialist in organizations and knowledge management—"
James bows lightly and walks towards President Ashford, who seems delighted to be shaking the hand of Harry Potter's son. "Of course, I've heard of your skill and talent in helping companies and businesses flourish in the East, James," President Ashford says good-naturedly. "I am delighted to meet you, at last."
"Thank you, President Ashford." James grins. "It's delightful to meet the President of Magic of America, too."
President Ashford laughs again. "Well, I hope that you won't mind if we ask for your help in our Government in the future?"
James grins more widely. "I'd love to extend the use of my talent to the States, Sir. Just contact Daddy if your owls can't quite reach me." Beside the President, his Daddy smiles at him proudly. Harry is torn between rolling his eyes and focusing on his chest swelling with pride for James. Sometimes, he wonders why he is not sorted into Slytherin, what with his ambitious streak; then again, he also wonders why Score is not a Slytherin or Albus is not a Ravenclaw.
President Ashford, eyes bright and excited, turns to Draco. "Your son is talked about by my highest advisers as a potential manager or consultant to the new projects our Ministry will conduct. You must be proud of your oldest sons, Mr. Malfoy-Potter."
Draco gives him a slight smile, but his sons and husband can see through his mask. The brightness in his eyes can easily be read (by them, at least) as pride and love. "And my twins, President. They are in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Come introduce yourselves, boys."
Score and Albus step forward, the former carrying an extra-clingy and suddenly-shy Percy in his arms. Al speaks up first, leaving to Score his and Percy's introduction (His twin, who sees this, glares at him.) "Good evening, Sir. I'm Albus Severus." He shakes hands with the President.
"And I'm his twin. My name's Scorpius," Score steps in, smiling lightly. He bounces Percy lightly in his arms. "And this is—"
"Perseus Lilo Malfoy-Potter" Percy pipes up, cheeks still red with shyness but he is holding out his little hand to the President. He giggles when President Ashford shakes it with both of his after Score. He turns to Score, eyebrows scrunched. "Score, why didn't you include Hyperion?" When his brother shrugs, he turns to the President, bright green and silver eyes charming. "His name is Scorpius Hyrpion, Persident."
Score rolls his eyes, then catches his Papa's reproachful look at the act. He smiles apologetically and pats Percy's head. "Okay, okay. He's right, Mr. President, Sir, but you can call me Scorpius."
President Ashford assesses all the Malfoy-Potter boys with interest. "I think it is useless to say that you are proud of them, Harry. They are all gorgeous children and obviously talented, I might add," he says. He looks at Harry, and when he smiles, Draco sees that it is genuine. "I have twins myself; about the same age as yours, I say." He laughs. "It's not easy raising them up, and mine is a boy and a girl. I can only imagine what you went through raising all these boys."
"Are they with you, President?" Draco asks, watching his sons at the corner of his eye go back to their chairs.
"Just my son, actually, because he wants to try the pizza here," he replies, looking a little embarrassed. He lowers his voice, "And actually, I want to talk to you about something important, Harry. I know that this a family night for you, but this is quite important."
There is a pause, and he watches Harry and Draco Malfoy look at each other, conversing nonverbally. He is aware of the British wizarding public's out roar years ago when the Chosen One, the Saviour Harry Potter has declared in the open his relationship with the ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Christopher has heard the many rumors about the start of this relationship; the contemplations ranging from strong love potions to bargains with ancient demons for the love of the Saviour.
Now, though, as he observes the couple, he can't deny the trust and dependence between them. It is evident in how Harry briefly presses his hand in Draco's lower back and kisses his forehead; Draco hold on briefly to Harry's bicep before stepping back and approaching his sons, who are keeping a miffed Percy from pouncing on the pizza. It has magically appeared on their table a few minutes ago.
"President, shall we discuss it in another place?" Harry says, going back to formal addresses.
"Yes, of course, Head Auror Potter," he replies, recognizing that, even for a moment, Harry is the Head Auror Potter once more, the Chief of the International Task Force for wizards. "This will only take a short moment, I promise."
Al watches from his seat as his Daddy is led out of the room with the President by the maître to another room. He is used to this—all of them are, apparently. Harry is always called at the most random of times about security issues inside and outside Britain. Many people depend on him. He is still grateful, though, that no matter what is demanded from their Daddy, he always gives the most to his sons and husband.
Draco, who is beside him, notices this. "Don't worry, love. Your father will be back. Your Daddy is stubborn. You know, not even the President-General of the Confederation can keep him away from all of us for tonight," he says while helping an excited Percy get a slice of pizza on his plate.
Al and Score grin at the confident smirk on their Papa's face. "Yeah."
"Eat, you two," Jamie says, gulping down his butterbeer. "Percy is in his third slice." He turns to the little blonde on Draco's lap holding a pizza slice in each of his hands. "Liiiiiiil, you're serious on stuffing yourself?"
Percy pouts at him, and says, "I want to be a big boy like you, Al and Score, Jamie! Big!" He gestures wildly with his hands, spattering tomato sauce and bits of meat on his Papa's robes. He giggles, looking at the stains, then covers his mouth with his hand. "Sorry, Papa."
"I'm used to it, baby," Draco sighs, casting a cleaning charm on his baby blue robes with his wand. He conjures a napkin and wipes Percy's tomato-sauce-smudged face. "Just don't give yourself a stomachache, okay?" His little blonde nods and resumes to eating enthusiastically. Draco eyes him amusedly; Percy, except for the chubby cheeks, is a lean boy. All the food and sweets that he eats must be compensated by running, flying, and jumping around with his Daddy and brothers.
Score takes another slice from the pizza. No matter how much he loves his little brother, he feels quite grateful that Percy has transferred to his Papa's lap. He looks at the pizza at the middle of the table. It really is big. Three feet of thin and gooey goodness, cut into squares. They've always liked this – having pizza over going to fancy restaurants as a way of celebrating since. Score finds that he quite likes how easy the conversations and laughter is between them inside this private room, eating pizza and drinking butterbeer. Also, Percy's constant complaints that he's not getting enough of the pizza are kind of cute.
"Don't worry, baby, we can order some more if you want," their Daddy says as he reenters the room. Percy looks up, his fist feeding pizza into his mouth. "But we have to finish this big one first." Harry cringes at how messy his little blonde is; Draco just raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say, You chose to indulge him this way.
"Dajee, Dajee, shtart—" Percy starts, however, his Papa cuts him off.
"Popcorn, what did I say about eating with your mouth full?" Papa wipes his mouth again with the napkin. "You're already four years old, love."
Percy directs his big, silver and green eyes to his Papa apologetically. He chews with concentration and gulps. "Sorry, Papa. Promise not to do it again." He wraps his hands around Draco's neck, staining his robes in the process. Nevertheless, he pats his little blonde at the back.
Harry chuckles at the nickname and his lover's weakness towards their sons as he takes his seat beside him. He waves his hand to clean his husband's robes. Al, Score, and Jamie are watching them intently. As usual, they look amused. Draco sees them, too. He huffs.
"Don't think that you weren't like Percy too when you were younger, boys," he says, as Percy straightens in his lap to pick two slices with both of his hands. He hands the other one to Harry. "You made a mess with anything as Percy is doing now."
"Daddy, Daddy, it's your favorite! Mushrooms, pineapples, peperoni and lots of parm'san cheese!" he says, looking pleased when Harry takes a bite from his hands and hums. He giggles when a drop of tomato sauce is left on his Daddy's cheek.
"I don't think I'm that clingy, though," James says, torn between wincing and cooing when Percy transfers to their Daddy's lap with every intention of feeding him the pizza himself.
"Or that messy," Score mutters, fighting a grin from his face as Percy giggles when Harry nibbles on his fingers.
"Or that addicted to pizza," Al adds, not looking up from his slice of pizza. Their Papa rolls his eyes at them and bites on a slice of pizza, grateful that Percy have not insisted feeding him like he is doing with Harry.
"Daddy, Daddy, what did the Persident want?" Percy asks, as he reaches to the table for another slice of pizza. He does not think he wants to share the pizza with the odd President, though.
"Just confederation issues, love," his Daddy says.
"He won't ask for pizza?"
His Papa, Daddy, and brothers laugh at that. He can feel James reach from the other side of the table to pinch his cheek. Percy pouts. What's wrong with being concerned about pizza?
"Nope. Your pizza's safe, baby," Daddy says, smiling at him amidst the snickering. "But it is something important. Something about Hogwarts, so you see. We had quite the talk."
Percy just nods, not concerned about what his Papa and the Persident talked about his future school. Papa will tell him about it later when he'll ask, anyway. For now, he is determined to make his Daddy eat as much pizza as he is willing to give. His brothers, however, perk up at the mention of their school.
"What's up with Hogwarts, love?" Draco asks, concerned. Leaders of other countries rarely express interest in wizarding boarding schools, and discuss it with the Head Auror. He remembers his third year and fourth years at Hogwarts; the rare times when the Ministry has intervened with the school, something important or dangerous has been up.
Harry seeing his worry, smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry so much, love. Remember that exchange program I've been involved in the past few months at the department? President Ashford just wanted to check once more on the security plans." He reaches out and touches Draco's cheek, knowing too well what he is remembering. "Nothing too dangerous or anything, I swear."
Draco gives him a look that says they'll talk about it further later, and Harry strokes the sensitive skin behind his ear as affirmation. He watches as his husband flushes delicately, hiding it by drinking his butterbeer. His boys do not comment on this exchange, too used to it. They still look excited about something new that is happening at Hogwarts.
"What exchange program are you talking about, Daddy?" Al asks, leaning forward the table eagerly. Score looks excited, too.
"C'mon, Dad. We won't tell anyone, promise."
Harry sighs exasperatedly. He trusts his boys too much. He nods, and waves his wand to cast several privacy and muffling spells in their dining room, shifting Percy in his lap into a more comfortable position. The little one has been sucking his fingers, while resting on Harry's chest. He turns to his sons. "Okay, it's not exactly top-secret, but it's not also something you can just tell everyone about, understand?"
They nod eagerly. Jamie smirks at his younger brothers' expressions. He knows that they have always wanted to experience the adventures and excitement in Hogwarts that their Daddy has gone through, regardless of the danger. The two are probably thinking that what is up at Hogwarts is something to the exact level.
"Well, for the second term, students and some faculty from Salem Academy will be staying at Hogwarts for a cross-cultural immersion, and we at the DMLE have been working to make sure that all of you will be secured and no scheming evil wizards will cause any transnational issues," Harry says, stroking a drowsy Percy's back.
"Salem Academy?" Score frowns, remembering it as one of the prestigious schools his team have played inter-school Quidditch against during his second and fifth years. Ever since the war, the wizarding communities have been striving to connect and build ties from around the world. One of the attempts is international, inter-school Quidditch tournaments once every three years. The biggest effort yet is the formation of the Confederation of States of Magic, where his Daddy is one of the leading figures.
"They have a pretty decent Quidditch team," he adds, recalling how they have competed at the finals and how the Hogwarts Quidditch team has won by ten points when he has caught the snitch. Al rolls his eyes at him, knowing what he is thinking.
"They do," Harry agrees, grinning. "Anyway, the Confederation wants more Muggle-immersion integration into the curriculums of wizarding schools. Salem Academy has one of the most Muggle-integrated curriculums in the whole world. Students do not only take the usual magic subjects, they also have Muggle electives. While you can take Muggle Studies, they can choose to study more specific subjects that Muggles take at their universities so they can work with Muggles if they want to."
"Like Journalism, Medicine, Design, Architecture, Computer Studies or Theatre," says Al, interestedly. He has read about Salem Academy, of course. He is, admittedly, impressed at the curriculum. Wizards and witches at America are encouraged to take Muggle professions, as a way to research on Muggles and ways to innovating the magical communities' ways of life.
"It's also part of the reason why they only accept the brightest, most talented, and most powerful young wizards and witches," Score says thoughtfully. He remembers that the students from the Academy really were arrogant. "Frank told me that they made him take have practical and theoretical entrance tests when he applied." He grimaces. "Too fussy for my own liking."
Jamie rolls his eyes at his Gryffindor brother. "Did you know that the Academy has given many letters of invitations for each one of us to Papa and Daddy?"
The twins look surprised. "Oh?"
"Yes," Harry says, staring playfully at Draco. "But your Papa will hear none of it. Salem is too far from home for his own liking. He did not want to talk about it, despite the fact that Malfoys always deserve the best. To be honest, I thought that it was too far, too."
"It's tradition, boys. Tradition. You should be educated where I and your Daddy have been because you're both Potters and Malfoys," Draco says defensively. He is grateful, however, that Harry never mentioned the fits of anxiety he suffered because of dissonance—the panicked fight of the wills to give his children the best and to keep them with him. If Harry has babbled, Draco will banish him to the couch for a month.
"Yes, Papa," Jamie, Al and Score say; they're grinning, but they know better than to believe what their Papa has said.
Harry chuckles at them. He wraps his arms around a sleeping Percy; somehow, the little boy has been exhausted the whole day and has slept in one of his favorite places to sleep: his Daddy's arms. "Anyway, President Ashford's children are studying at Salem Academy and he's worried about them."
"Well, all powerful people have their enemies," Draco mutters, who have reached to the sleeping blonde on Harry's lap to stroke his hair. Jamie watches the picture that his parents and youngest brother make fondly.
"He's like the Muggle president of America," he says. "Many people will want to get to him through his children."
"Yes, and well, he is requesting for extra protection and help from you boys, actually," Harry says, looking at Al and Score. "His son is transferring to Hogwarts."
"What, we're supposed to be bodyguards or something?" Al says incredulously. "And why would he transfer to Hogwarts? Isn't Britain too far?"
"I don't really think his son needs protection. He just wants to make sure that he has friends at school. So make sure that you do, boys. You just have to find out why he'd transferred once you've met him."
"As long as he's not an arrogant git, it'll be fine, I guess," Score says, trying to remember if any of the players he's went up against years ago was called Ashford.
The family talks more about Quidditch, Potions and Hogwarts. Jamie tells them about his encounters in the Philippines, India and Malaysia, plus the weird costumes that the more primitive wizards and witches wear in the tropical countries. Score cannot quite imagine how life can be without playing Quidditch; Al, on the other hand, likes how herbs and branches are used for healing without being brewed at all.
Harry and Draco just listen to their three sons, basking in the contentment of having the family content once more. Percy has made Harry his temporary sleeping couch, which is fine for the latter. He knows that other people will say that his six-year-old is spoiled and too pampered; Harry will argue, however, that his little Lil is just being raised with the love and care that he have not grown up with. Besides, this is how Harry and Draco have raised Jamie, Al, and Score, and they've turned out into good, talented, responsible, and loving—though teasing—men.
Draco leans towards Harry and whispers in his ear, "What are you thinking, love?"
Harry smiles at him and kisses the top of Draco's head without disturbing Percy. "I'm just happy, watermelon. Still can't believe that I have you plus all of this." He smirks at the use of the food pet name on Draco; sometimes, he can't help himself—he is so smitten that he just has to call the blonde random pet names. Apart from that, he means and feels every word from his mouth.
"Watermelon!?" Score exclaims in a low voice incredulously, attempting to hold back his laughter. He and his brothers have heard the exchange and stopped talking to look at their parents with wide eyes.
"Daaaaaaaad," Al whines, not able to believe that his Dad, Head Auror, Vanquisher of the Most Powerful Dark Wizard in History, is as sappy as to call his husband watermelon, a fruit, for Merlin's sake. A fruit. "Really?"
Jamie has doubled-over in laughter, handsome face alight in mirth. "Oh my god; Daddy's calling Papa a watermelon. It totally beats honeybee and cupcake for me!"
Their flushing Papa sends each of them a light stinging hex, shutting them up in an instant.
Acrux Apollo Ashford sees the Malfoy-Potters, all five of them dressed in handsome wizard's robes, leave their private dining room. He does not disturb his father, who is agitatedly talking to somebody in the phone. Instead, he observes the family from the corner of his eyes.
Two of the older sons, a tall-dark haired man, and a younger pale blonde, are talking animatedly as they make their way out of the restaurant. Behind them, their parents walk a little bit slower, also conversing. The youngest son is asleep in Harry Potter's arms. Last among the group is a dark-haired boy who seems to be the twin of the pale blonde; he is reading a thick, burgundy-colored tome while walking.
That must be Albus then, Acrux thinks, watching as Albus bumps against a small, ornate table with a large oriental vase near the entrance. He drops his book and stoops down to pick it up, unaware of how the vase wobbles, tipping sideways dangerously—
Acrux whips out his wand and casts a Shield Charm on Albus. A gust of air leaves his wand and—
CRASH! The tall, oriental vase comes in contact to the floor a couple of feet away from the brunet and breaks into a million pieces. There is a lull of shock as every face turns towards the entrance.
The maître is startled; Albus' face is white as paper, looking at the shards in front of him. Acrux is frozen on the spot, his heart still trying to break out of his chest.
"Al!"
"Albus!"
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy-Potter are on their son's side, helping him up. The youngest Malfoy-Potter is crying, and is being soothed by the tall, dark-haired man. His twin, on the other hand, squeezes him on the shoulder, picks up the book and looks around. He catches Acrux's eyes. Eyebrows rise.
Breathing heavily, Acrux finally realizes that he has stood up and cast all those charms to protect Albus. His head feels faint after the burst of adrenaline. He does not notice his father shake him lightly.
"Crux, are you alright?" his dad asks, worry laced in his voice. Master Giuseppe and other attendants in the restaurants are coming to the Malfoy-Potters' aid.
"Y-yeah," he says, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face. He still feels on guard. He steps closer to the family and, with another wave of his hand, repairs the vase—good as new. When he sees it's worked, he gives a silent thanks to those almost-sleepless nights spent helping his sister research and develop the more advanced Repairing Charm.
Startled green-silver eyes frown at him. What an unusual eye color, he thinks, before shaking his head again to clear it. "A-are you alright?" he blurts out. He feels his father come closer and put an arm around his shoulders.
The brunet nods; he seems to still be unable to speak, but his eyes never leave him. Suddenly, a small vial of shimmering, pale blue liquid is being thrust in his face by the pale blonde. Scorpius Malfoy-Potter, he reminds himself half-heartedly.
He frowns at the vial before taking it. The blonde laughs and says, "It's a Calming Draught. My papa brewed it. Don't worry."
Acrux scowls at him, irritated at the energy and confidence radiating from Scorpius Malfoy-Potter. "I know what a Calming Draught looks like." He opens the vial and downs it. To his surprise, he feels the effects instantaneously. He looks at the empty vial curiously; Calming Draughts are supposed to take effect a few minutes after intake, as far as he knows.
"Our Papa improved on it; it's nothing weird, swear," the slightly taller dark-haired guy tells him. He is carrying the sniffling little blonde in his arms, rubbing his back soothingly. He is grinning, though. James and Perseus Malfoy-Potter, Acrux remembers.
"Thanks for doing that for Al," James says. He touches Perseus' cheek and tells him, "Thank him too, Lil. He's the reason that Al is alright."
The small blonde is still sniffling, but he rubs his eyes with his knuckles and turns them to Acrux, who has calmed down enough to see how cute the child is in his bright red wizard's robes. He has flushed chubby cheeks and one of his eyes is silver while the other is emerald. "Th-thank you for making Albus Sev'rus safe, S-sir," he says as firmly as he can, but then, bursts into tears.
"You were really scared by that loud crash, weren't you, baby?" Draco Malfoy-Potter takes his youngest son from his oldest's arms and turns to Acrux, who, despite being thoroughly calmed down by the potion, still feels frozen on the floor. "Thank you for doing that to Al, young Mr. Ashford," he says.
The mention of his family name startles Acrux. He hurriedly bows lightly to the Draco Malfoy-Potter and says, "It- it was nothing, Mr. Malfoy-Potter." He notices that his father had left his side and is now talking with Harry Potter, whose arm is around his son's shoulders.
Harry Potter. Acrux gulps, feeling a dizzying hundred more levels of nervous all of a sudden. He's always admired the dark-haired hero and Seeker since childhood. He's always considered Harry Potter, aside from his parents and sister of course, as one of the guiding figures of his life.
Said guiding figure is now coming towards him with a smile. Acrux gulps again, flushing and feeling stupid, idiotic, nervous and all kinds of things. He also finds that the green-silver eyes looking at him again with something akin to curiosity does not help at all. His father, he sees at the corner of his eye, is looking at him proudly. He vaguely notices Maestro Giuseppe fussing over the vase behind them, and the attendants assuring the patrons to go back to their own businesses.
"That's some impressive thinking and wandwork you demonstrated, young man," Harry Potter says good-naturedly. Acrux looks up at him, flushing and nods. He has lost his words. "Thank you for keeping Al from harm." He nods at his father. "President Ashford."
"I'm happy that my son has been of help, Head Auror Potter," his father says, patting Acrux at the back. He knows about his son's admiration of the Head Auror and is pleased with the opportunity for Acrux to impress the hero.
"Misters President and Head Auror!" Maestro Giuseppe, a short, stocky man wearing a toque waddles between them, looking harried. "I must know what this young man has used on the vase; it is an antique, magical ornament from China and should not have been repaired by a simple Reparo. But it is now good as new!"
With the Malfoy-Potters, the owner of the restaurant, and his father looking at him expectantly, he flushes, unable to find the words once more. What is wrong with him?! Fortunately, his dad is aware of the projects and experiments that he and his sister are getting involved in.
"Is that the modified Repairing Charm that Cal has been developing, Crux?" he asks. When Acrux nods, he turns to the others. "Well, my children have been trying to develop common charms by applying laws of Transfiguration upon them and…"
He continues to explain the little that he knows of his twins' projects, while Acrux tunes him out. He is frustrated with himself and the way that he has been acting. He is not usually like this; he is not easily flustered, and he does not stutter, for Merlin's sake. It is his first time to see Harry Potter and his family and he loses his ground all of a sudden.
"Um, thanks."
He looks up and sees that Albus has left his dad's side and approached him. He is a couple of inches shorter than he is (like Cal, he thinks), and is wearing dark green robes. Up close, his messy, raven-black hair is fashionable. Adorable too, a voice in his mind adds unhelpfully. He gulps at the thought. Green-silver eyes, framed with thick, dark and long lashes, are looking at him intently. Their unique color remind him of the supernovas that he saw in Astronomy books; a bright, green star exploding into silver dust— bright, beautiful silver dust. They are smiling and calculating.
Acrux feels his heart thudding quickly in his chest. What's this? "It's nothing, really. It's just lucky that I was looking when it happened, I guess." He laughs nervously and the boy in front of him smiles at him indulgently. The voice, which annoying sounds like his sister, whispers, Why were you looking so intently, then?
He ignores it.
"My name's Acrux Ashford, by the way. Call me Crux," he says, surprised by his lack of stutter this time. He sighs in relief, feeling more like himself at last. He holds out his hand, and a softer one with slender fingers grasps and shakes it.
"Albus Malfoy-Potter, and… it's just Al."
"Just Al," he echoes, hating the breathy quality of his voice. Albus seems to not have noticed it as his twin, who is taller than he is, wraps his arms around the brunette's shoulders and pulls him to his side.
"I'm Score. Scorpius, but don't call me that. Call me Score," the blonde says, grinning. "Thanks again for saving Albie's clumsy skin." The jest, however, is said with unmistakable affection and fondness.
"Scorpius," Al growls at him, pushing his twin away, then turns to Acrux. "See you around, Crux. Thank you again."
"Yeah, see you." He can't help the wide smile spreading on his face.
They turn to leave, following the other members of their family who are waiting outside. Crux watches and listens to the dark-haired boy laugh at something that his twin has said. The sound gives him butterflies in the stomach, which flips when Al turns around to smile at him one last time.
He returns the smile and raises his hand in farewell. See you at Hogwarts, he thinks, after I figure what this is all about.
"You're smitten, son," his father chuckles behind him as he is led back to their table.
Crux is surprised that he does not disagree.