Harry Potter and Another Malfoy

Pairings: main Harry/Scorpius, mentions of Harry/Draco and Harry/Ron

Additional Warnings: mentions of mpreg, totally screwed-up canon, epilogue, kids, jobs and relationships and mean!Ron (cause someone has to be); Spoilers.

Thank you very much for reading and commenting and liking my story! Not much is happening in this chapter, but it is of some interest. I hope you’ll like it, anyway.

Part 5

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When Albus left Hogwarts and started working at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry, alongside Harry’s old friend Hermione Granger, and Allegra grew into an eight-year-old with never-ending supply of play-dates and birthday party invitations, Harry found himself with enough free time on his hands to contemplate getting a part-time job. And like all things in life lately, the job offer came from Draco Malfoy. It happened, mainly, because one lazy afternoon, lounging in bed and watching with great deal of satisfaction as Malfoy was frantically getting dressed (he was late to meet his wife), cursing and spelling ripped off buttons back onto his robes, Harry casually mentioned it.

It wasn’t the kind of job that Harry was looking for and when offering it Malfoy was obviously getting back at him for often running late, ruined robes and ugly family arguments, but it was definitely a start and, after more than a decade of staying home, any job seemed like a good thing; even if it meant sorting Malfoy’s letters and making sure that his social calendar was up-to-date. Stationed at the Ministry, in a tiny side office in the Department of International Magical Co-operation next to Malfoy’s grand one, Harry gathered interesting information (oftentimes by accidentally peeping or unintentionally eavesdropping, like in good old times), met important people of today, forged useful contacts and gradually reacquainted the wizarding community with his person.

Sometimes it felt like he was in the whirlwind of social activity, organizing official and private functions, auctions, parties and, perhaps, for the first time in life, caring about his appearance and aware of the latest wizarding fashion trends. Malfoy, prissy about the looks more than about what they hid, wouldn’t let him start working until he dragged him all over Madam Malkin’s and Twilfitt and Tatting’s in Diagon Alley and even Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade for a new wardrobe, befitting that of his personal assistant. Harry snorted at the title but was excited to get back on the scene and took real pleasure in driving Malfoy insane while picking out new clothes, proving that he could learn new tricks and act as prissy as Malfoy when it suited him. This job was just a temporary thing, Harry knew, until he figured out what he really wanted to do, and it was worth a try if only to see Malfoy somewhere other than bedroom. And that particular sight Harry could do very well without.

After only a few days in his employment, Harry wondered if Malfoy knew every wizard reporter and photographer to always have a place in the papers and had Extendable Ears installed in every more or less important wizarding household to get the latest scoop before anybody else did. When bored out of his skull, Harry entertained himself with the idea that if Malfoy had a more defined sense of goal, possessed a bit more ambition and a tad more talent he would quite successfully run for the Minister. After all, he was quoted as much as any head of state had any right to be and was as foolish as many of them. Harry was very soon convinced that, while keeping busy or, as things were, keeping the pretence of being busy, all that Malfoy did made little to no sense at all, though Harry had to concede that Malfoy did have flair with foreign visitors. He, like no one else, knew all the right people to be seen with and all the right places to be seen at.

But otherwise, he had no purpose in life and no cause to support or to fight for and whatever functions he held were just for entertainment of his pure-blood allies who, though somewhat thinned in years following the Second War, were still prominent among other wizarding families. No wonder that Malfoy needed to counteract the boredom of his life by a bit of excitement on the side. In this respect, Harry’s life, though socially insignificant, made much more sense. He might have stayed out of spotlight and fell out of favour with some magical folk, but he kept his beliefs and ideals and if he was called to fight again he wouldn’t hesitate, whereas Malfoy would probably go into hiding or find another Dark Lord to follow.

When Harry made sure that the letters were sent out, Malfoy’s robes delivered and his wife informed of the next venue to bedazzle, he would often go roaming the corridors of the Ministry of Magic, relocating old friends and familiar faces and refreshing fond and not so fond memories. At first, it was like walking around in his Invisibility Cloak, because no one paid him the least bit of attention and, for a while, Harry was left to himself, which suited him just fine. He tried to avoid embarrassing questions about his whereabouts all these years and ‘you didn’t live to our expectations’ looks, thank you very much.

Sometimes he would run into Mr. Weasley; they would usually exchange awkward looks but wouldn’t speak, least someone saw them at it and reported to Mrs. Weasley. And Mr. Weasley really couldn’t afford angering her any further. Even after all these years, she didn’t forgive him for going back to his old job at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office after the war. Despite appearances, they did keep in touch and Mr. Weasley paid frequent visits to his grandchildren. They were sworn to secrecy, of course, but they couldn’t help liking their slightly mad grandfather, who never failed to fill them in on the latest enchanted muggle stuff going around and causing havoc.

Then there was Level Two of the Ministry of Magic – a place where Harry’s son worked now and where the Auror Headquarters were stationed. A dull sort of ache tugged at Harry’s heart every time he got there. It was his lifelong ambition once to become an Auror. He could still remember back in his fifth year the career talk with professor McGonagall, where he timidly voiced it aloud. After that it seemed almost within his reach and the most logical thing for him to do. He passed OWLs in all the relevant subjects and if he but made a comeback to Hogwarts for his final year he would pass his NEWTs too; not to mention, that after all the trials and ordeals of his Hogwarts years he was more than ready to take another bunch of tests to become a qualified Dark-wizard fighter.

Surprisingly, when Harry thought about his eligibility as an Auror now, he realised that he was much more adept at charms and transfiguration – it always came in handy with kids around; his reflexes were sharpened too – Al and Allegra, like the majority of young wizards, were prone to accidental outbursts of magic that could easily hurt them or anybody else if Harry wasn’t quick enough to prevent them or to swiftly deal with the consequences. But even with all these advantages, now it was just a dream from another lifetime and, looking back on the circumstances that led him to giving it up, Harry couldn’t say that he would have it any other way. After all, he was happy now. He had a family of his own. He led simple, normal life, filled with love and in the end this is what he always wanted more than anything else.

He was surprised when Malfoy insisted on his presence at the next rich and pure-blood gathering. He only once before had attended a party at Malfoy Manor and it stood out in his memory mostly because Malfoy had a terrible falling out with his wife and Harry had some trouble seating for a week after it. In Harry’s opinion, he made him go now only to have a laugh at his expense, knowing perfectly well that Harry would feel like a fish out of water. But it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Harry thought it would be; at least at first. It seemed that years of isolation made him thirsty for company and he was bursting with things to say and ideas to share. He read Daily Prophet as religiously as every other witch and wizard and had no trouble discussing current goings-on in the magical world and could hold his own wherever the conversation went, whether to discuss a new law or a new racing broom. Like any other person in the wizarding world he was a Quidditch fan and knew all about the latest matches; he also had a pre-Hogwarts daughter and she proved to be a source of never-ending stories that would keep any party rolling with laughter.

Due to his two pregnancies, a certain restriction of movements and time to spare, he was nudged by Hermione to take up reading. Just to annoy her, he decided to start with something light and read his way through Gilderoy Lockhart’s collected works for old time’s sake. After that he was forever convinced that Al’s fidgety nature was the direct result of too much unrestrained laughter on his part while carrying him. Sirius’s library contained a copy of traditional wizarding fairy tales by Beedle the Bard, that Harry had no time to really appreciate before, as well as now forbidden Toadstool Tales by Beatrix Bloxam; both books he read before and after Al and Allegra were born to great enjoyment of everybody. But what came really in handy now was the copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy (Hermione read it to him aloud, because she found it that fascinating), when conversing with nowadays nobility or, what was left of it, precariously on the edge of extinction.

However, when the first glow of excitement passed and the pleasant buzz from the Firewhisky cleared away, Harry was left with a nasty feeling that he was nothing but a freak show to them. Things didn’t really change. They still didn’t like him. They would never be on the same side. He recognised some of them from his year at Hogwarts: all Slytherins, some of them of Death Eater parentage; all wearing perfectly cut robes and perfectly fake smiles. It was not Harry’s company and disgusted with them as much as with himself for being taken in by their faux-friendly looks, he hastily left the room and spent the rest of the party in the solitude of Malfoy Manor grounds. There he enjoyed the murmuring sound of the fountain and the majestic sight of pure white peacocks strutting along the perfectly manicured lawns. It was really funny how things turned out, Harry decided, and a few more goblets of Firewhisky later (house-elves seemed to be serving trays with drinks and fancy food in every part of the mansion and its grounds) he started having some truly ridiculous thoughts; one of them particularly struck him when he realised that he wondered what sort of life he’d have had if he’d married a Malfoy and not a Weasley. It was his last thought before he shook himself, cast a Sobering charm, swore never to drink anything stronger than mead or butterbeer again and Apparated away, leaving wrought-iron gates clinking softly in his wake.

TBC…