Malfoys and Potters

Harry made his way through Diagon Alley with his two boys, seven year old James and five year old Al. James could hardly keep still, and Harry had to keep a firm grip around the boys wrist to keep him from running off in all directions. Al dutifully stuck by his father, shying away from the loud vendors and gaggles of children running too and fro. Al stuck so close, in fact, that Harry nearly tripped over him a couple of times.

It was hard to find time to do outings with the boys. Harry's job was demanding and left him less time than he would've liked to spend with them. Harry knew he was lucky to have such a large and willing extended family that helped him in raising the boys. He did note however, that George was becoming a bit of a bad influence on James, who had taken to pulling jokes on his brother and even on Harry sometimes, which left the single father exasperated. There was nothing like running late for work and finding that the urn of floopowder had been replaced with sugar.

Harry steered the boys towards one of the clothing stores, hoping that they could be quick so he'd have time to buy them icecream after. He would feel bad if he'd dragged them here simply to get James new robes--as boys this age despised clothes shopping--and he felt they deserved some fun out of the little time they had to spend together. He had put off the clothes shopping for as long as he could, and then realized that the sleeves on James' robes were up to his elbows. Molly had tried to help by sewing extra fabric on, but it just looked odd and there was no reason James shouldn't have robes which properly fitted him.

Al stood quietly by Harry's side as a witch with a big floppy hat and prominent front teeth measured James who stood up on a footstool, basking in the attention and striking poses in the mirror. It was in the mirror that Harry noticed a familiar pointed face, beneath perfect straight sheets of silver-blond hair. Seeing Lucius triggered something else that Harry had forgotten.

Somewhere in a pile of mail and papers at home on the kitchen table (used for random hodgepodge rather than eating meals together) there were a stack of old photographs that Aunt Petunia had sent to him not long ago. Harry had been shocked to say the least, figuring that his Aunt had long ago burned anything that had to do with his mother or father. In the stack had been a couple old photos of Lily and James, one was the sort of strip one would get in a Muggle photobooth, the other one was a magical photo with Lily and James waving. The few others had been magical photos, but were even older. On the backs of them in a sloppyish handwriting were the date of the photo, some comments (many humorous) about what the people in the photos had been doing, and the two names which occurred the same in each picture: Charlus and Abraxas. There were four altogether, and though Harry didn't know who Charlus was by name, it was easy to see by his face and his messy black hair which poked out from beneath a cocked newsboy cap, that Charlus was a Potter. From his look, Harry assumed this was his grandfather, as there was a significant resemblance to Harry's own father. Abraxas he had heard of; this was Lucius' father.

Harry had meant to take the photos to Lucius months ago, but life was hectic between hunting dark wizards and raising boys, and the photos had slipped his mind.

"Al, I need you to stay here with James for a moment, there's someone I need to speak to." Harry said, kneeling to speak to the small child, who pouted.

"But Da, I wanna go with you!"

Harry sighed. He couldn't deny the children anything, especially not wanting to spend as much time with him as possible.

"Alright, then." Harry straightened, and took the boys small hand in his. "James, if you're finished before I'm done speaking with Mr. Malfoy..." Harry pointed towards Lucius. "Then come stand with Al, don't run about the store like a mad thing."

Harry had a brief image of James tearing through the store, swinging off of clothing racks and breaking things in his riotous, eternally hyper, whirlwind of boyhood. Harry put that lovely scenario to the back of his head, and approached Lucius with Al in tow.

"Lucius? I just noticed you were here too. It must be a good time for new clothing. Er...I've some old photos I've been meaning to get to you, actually. Your father's in them, so I thought it'd be best if you had them. Is there a good time? I could bring them by the manor."

Lucius was getting used to keeping a low profile. He had to now, given everything that had happened. Narcissa grew tired of her weary husband, who seemed less and less reluctant to go out and about with her- she left, exploring a new world wind life of travel and man eating that Lucius could only be impressed and mildly terrified by. They divorced amicably, Lucius allowing her to live in the manor, as they remained good friends. Her constant letters of what she was doing made him chuckle, inspiring a bit of longing to get out again.

After much deliberation, he set forth to Diagon Alley. It wasn't as if he needed anything, save for a pair of boots, but he knew the fresh air would do him good. The stares and the glaring looks had some what diminished, or mayhap, did not live up to what he assumed society would give him in terms of dirty stares. Then again, he was still very attractive, and attractive people as he knew, never really got into too much trouble.

He pulled his hair back into a ponytail, tied with a velvet ribbon. He wore basic black, coupled with a long vest and a knee length frock coat. He took his cane, pulling on his black gloves as he walked toward the heart of Diagon Alley. He looked impeccable, staying with black so he wouldn't be noticed- but most people noticed him anyway as he slipped through the crowds like a wraith against the dark sky.

The store was full of small children, running around and laughing. He had a fond flash back of Draco at that age, forcing himself to snap out of it when he felt himself lingering for too long. If he stayed in one spot, he might get asked questions- he wasn't in the mood for such things, after all. After picking out a new pair of dragon hide boots, he wandered by the robe fitting where he saw Harry Potter of all people, and his two young sons.

Harry's oldest looked so much like his grandfather, he had to pause to remind himself of what year it was. He shook it off. "Harry Potter." He cleared his throat. "It's been quite awhile, hasn't it?" He glanced down to Al. "I see you've been a busy man- fatherhood and a successful career under your belt in all... Ah, my father you say?" A small smile flickered across his face. "I would like that. Father didn't get into many pictures you know. He was a very private man. You can bring them by any time. I have a very free social calender. I'm afraid I'm not exactly a welcome guest at too many affairs these days." There was a sound of remorse in his voice, as Lucius enjoyed social events- being one who thrived in the company and adoration of those around him. Without it, he was left feeling lonely.

"Yeah, it's been a while, right." He smiled down at Al when Lucius noticed his children. "Busy is an understatement, really. The Ministry keeps me out and about." Harry threaded his fingers in the messy black hair of Al's head fondly. The boy hid behind Harry's legs. "Alright then, I'll drop by some--"

"HI!" James had appeared beside Harry, and interrupted, extending his hand to Lucius. "I'm James Potter. I'm getting new robes. D'you know that lady measuring me--with the big ol' teeth--said I was the most handsome boy she's seen all day!" James looked up at Harry. "She said you were handsome too...she wanted me to tell you she likes kids, and walking under the moonlight. Sorta weird, huh. What's so fun about walking under the moonlight?" James gave his shoulders a shrug.

Harry cringed, and glanced towards the woman who had the measuring tape around her shoulders. She grinned at him, displaying her big teeth. He turned back to Lucius.

"Er, this is my eldest. Charming boy, isn't he? The one in hiding is Al. Anyway, I'll bring the photos by as soon as I can." Harry glanced at his watch. "I could probably get the photos to you after work tonight. I just have great piles of paperwork to get caught up on right now, nothing too dangerous I should hope."

"Good afternoon, James Potter." Lucius said looking down at Harry's oldest son with an amused look on his face. "It's nice to meet you. It seems as if you've inherited your grandfather's charm- a very good thing to have. It may get you out of trouble one day, if not get you extra sweets. But I shouldn't be telling you that I suppose." He looked amused as he looked at the seamstress.

"Er, well- you do attract an interesting lot, Harry. I'm sure she'd give you very nicely tailored robes if you went for a moonlit walk with her." He said with a straight face, though his eyes glinted in amusement. He looked down and around at Harry's younger son. He knelt down so that they were eye level.

"Hello Al. Hiding behind your father I see. I did the same thing as a boy. It's safe back there, you know. I'm certain your father wouldn't let a single thing happen to you while you're back there." He slowly stood back up, looking to Harry. "Yes, do stop by. Feel free to bring the boys. I miss being around children." He frowned. He did like children, and always wanted more- despite many tries they only succeeded once. As a result, Draco was spoiled rotten.

Harry thought of all the things James could possibly break in the manor, and laughed. Bringing the boys might not be the best idea.

"We'll see. One of them can be a bit boisterous." He said, and ruffled James' hair. "Well we must be going--I think the boys would like icecream before I've got to leave for the Ministry."

"Icecream!" James whooped, and took off running for the door.

"James!" Harry called, but to no avail. The boy had his mind on one thing, and he was already out the door. "Sorry--see you later, Lucius!" Harry hoisted Al onto his hip, quickly paid the seamstress for her work, and tucked the boxed robes under his arm. He was off and out the door to catch James.

--

Harry left the boys with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and from there he floo'd to The Ministry. The stacks of paperwork were daunting, but at least it would be a quiet night. Harry laid the photographs on his desk, and sighed, beginning in on his paperwork.

He was only a couple hours in and making little headway on the paperwork. His focus had waned after a half-hour of plowing through them admirably. From then on it had been throwing wads of paper at the trash bin, sticking quills into the ceiling like darts, and now and then glancing at a parchment and filing, signing, or dismissing it.

Harry kept trying to refocus, but he had never been quite good at that without Hermione to keep him on the straight and narrow. He mused that he should bring her to work with him one night to get this bloody paperwork caught up. He imagined she would end up doing most of it herself, signing Harry's name in perfect imitation, as she was too much a perfectionist to sign imperfectly.

By the time Harry was finished with work it was much later than he had planned--he'd been called away on an emergency, and spent a rather long duel with a dark wizard who had a few companions in hiding to back him up. Harry had only a new trainee with him for aid. The trainee however, became more of a liability than an asset, as Harry ended up defending them both against four.

When Harry had finally managed to wrangle three out of four of the wizards--the fourth one had fled and Harry had woven a colorful string of curses, as the trainee hung his head and stood back, watching Harry levitate two of the bound wizards before finally understanding that he was meant to levitate the third. Harry took care of the outlaws, and then sat the trainee at his desk with an enormous stack of papers to file away. Harry wasn't sure he trusted the trainee to do it correctly, but he was sore, and tired, and he wanted at least one stack of papers cleared from his desk that night.

Harry gathered the photos and in the lobby, debated on whether or not to see Lucius. It was rather late and he probably looked like he'd been ran through the ringer--he bore a couple cuts on his face and a bloody gash that cut across the side of his ribs and left his robe torn. But then again, he had already said that he would bring the photos tonight. He would just drop in, hand over the photos, and go home and collapse into his bed. It would be over and done with and relatively painless...well, at least two out of three. One of those wizards had delivered a Cruciatus that had grazed Harry. He hadn't suffered the full impact of it, but enough to still feel the effects even now.

Harry stepped into the fireplace with a handful of floo powder in one hand, and the photos in the other.

"Malfoy Manor!" He said, and moments later he tumbled out of the fireplace, landing in an ungraceful sprawl which sent the photos over the floor. He had not counted on his legs being so unsteady, or the floo trip affecting him as such after the near-miss Crucio. "Ah, damn. Lucius, I apologize--"

Harry crawled and slowly gathered the photos, using that as an excuse to take his time before he tried standing again. He had found three out of the four, and glanced around, but couldn't see where the fourth photo had flown to. He pushed an annoying lock of black hair off of his dirt smudge forehead as he stayed there on his knees.

"The fourth one seems to have vanished...maybe under the chaise?"

Lucius nodded, heading off to return home. If Harry was coming tonight, he would have to make sure the manor was impeccable. It was a little easier without Scorpius- as it wasn't time for his grandson to be over. Astoria had custody of him during the week. Given the last time Harry was there during Voldemort's occupation, things weren't. It would take a bit of doing, but it had to happen.

Hours later, after the last curtain had been drawn, and every bit of dust completely obliterated from the parlor- Lucius ran a finger over the last surface he had to check-- the fireplace. When no dust came off it, he gave a firm nod to the house elf who looked pleased and ran off.

The parlor. He stood in front of the fireplace, looking at the long room with it's massive windows and ornate furniture. His father hated this room, and never used it unless to play the cello, which stood in perfect position right where he always played it, or to come home from the ministry. It also doubled as a makeshift hospital during those years, as Abraxas would often come home looking like something ran him over at one point during his day. This was the only fireplace linked to the ministry, so Harry had to be coming through this one. He settled down with a book from one of the massive shelves flanking the sides of it, waiting for the younger man.

Hours later, Harry Potter stumbled out of his fireplace, looking as if some large animal mauled him. It was a sight he never expected to see again after his father retired from the ministry. He instantly walked over to Harry, carefully helping him up. "Easy now. Take it slow. The chair's right here. The picture can wait." He said and helped Harry to a chair. With a flick of his wrist, a foot stool slid out from underneath propping up under his feet. "Don't move." He ordered, heading across the room to fetch a glass and a bottle of brandy. He poured Harry a glass, setting it on the table beside the young auror. He picked up the first aid kit on the mantle, fiddling with the potions and gauze inside. He knelt down beside the chair, pressing the filmy piece of fabric to Harry's cuts on his cheek before he blinked in realization at what he was doing.

"I... apologize." He said frankly and backed off a bit. "Force of habit you see. My father had a fairly dangerous job for the ministry and I put myself in charge of taking care of him when he came home looking like he'd need to be sewn back together. I... suppose seeing you in such a way brought back old instincts. You still have one remaining wound. Did you want me to take care of that? I don't mind." He offered, gesturing to the gash on Harry's ribs.

Harry was a bit shocked--he hadn't expected to be looked after, just to drop the photos off and go home and sleep. He lifted his hand slowly and touched the gauze on his cheek.

"It's...it's alright, just unexpected." Harry confessed. "I normally come home a bit better off. I was just supposed to shovel through some paperwork, but there was an emergency and they sent the trainee--Merlin." Harry placed the photographs onto the table next to the tumbler of Brandy, and stood carefully, pulling his robe a bit to look at the blood. "Suppose it does need mending. I should have done it before I came--cleaned up a bit--but I really just wanted to get home and go to bed without fussing over any of it."

Harry shrugged out of his robe, trying to hide his wince at the movement. The gash across his side really was painful, and the curse was still sending a few last and thankfully lessening muscle spasms through his limbs. Harry draped his robe over his arm, not wanting to place it anywhere to dirty up Lucius pristine looking surroundings. His shirt was bloody too, and he tugged the tails out of his pants and then spoke a charm to undo the buttons, and shrugged half out of the shirt so Lucius could get to the wound. He felt a bit silly, and after he'd partially stripped he really thought he shouldn't have. So he'd been hurt, it wouldn't be the first or last time, it simply came with the territory of the job. Harry had decided to consider each scar as a badge of honor, which was probably a very Gryffindor way of thinking.

"It's...you know, it isn't that bad, really." Harry said awkwardly, glancing again at the gash, and being stoic.

Lucius gave him a look and shook his head. "My father used to say the same thing about his wounds, until one got infected. Regardless, it must sting- and when I'm done with it, it won't." He eyed the gash in a thoughtful manner, then looked back to his potions in the first aid kit. "Looks like it was caused by some dark magic. Hold on then."

He walked out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a black case- embossed with the Malfoy crest. He laid it down on the couch, flicking open the black leather lid. Inside were a dozen or so potions, neatly labeled in Lucius's script. He glanced back over to the wound on Harry's side, running a finger over the bottles until he stopped on one in a black bottle. "Here it is. With dark magic, not any potion will do. Some of them have very particular ways they need to be healed in or they'll never heal at all..." He turned to face Harry and paused.

When did Harry Potter grow up? He took in the sight of him, just briefly, and cleared his throat. If there ever was a person who fit the role of auror, it was Harry Potter. "Right then. Your wound." He quickly went over to Harry, hoping the dim light of the room would hide the flush on his face. He couldn't tell why he was blushing- if it was the sight of Harry Potter with out a shirt on, the light playing off the various dips and lines of his body coupled with the complete lack of a sex life he'd been dealing with, or the fact that he lingered just a bit too long while looking.

"It's going to sting, but it'll be over quickly." He opened the potion bottle up, and dipped his fingers in. "It's more of a salve, as it has to dissolve the traces of dark magic left on the skin from the original spell." He explained and with a swipe of his fingers, covered the wound. "The stinging is the potion working to remove the left over magic. Tomorrow when you take the bandage off, all that will remain is a trace scar." He rolled fresh gauze over the top of it, and then a cover to protect it. "Please sit and relax. It seems as if you've had a rough day. You should recover before leaving while I collect the other picture."

With that under control, Lucius glanced around the room for the other picture. He remembered Harry saying it had gone under the chaise. He got down on his hands and knees peering underneath the ornate piece of furniture until he spotted it. "Found the wayward picture." He shifted so more of his upper body was on the floor, needing to reach to grab it. His fingers grasped the smooth surface and finally, he pulled it out. "Got it!" He sat back on his knees, fixing his hair back into place.

Harry watched as Lucius smeared the salve to his side, and applied the bandage. The brush of Lucius fingers was rather nice, despite the sting, and then they were gone. Harry quietly watched Lucius kneel and fish out the fourth picture. He slipped his arm back into his shirt and buttoned a couple of buttons, the top left mostly gaping. His robe--battered looking after tonight--went on over his clothing, though he left it open too not wanting to bother with many buttons.

Harry watched Lucius sit back on his knees, and fix his platinum locks.

"Good--here are the others, then." Harry held the photos a moment longer, looking down at them and the Potter in the photos that was not a relative to him other than name--the man was a stranger. A lump formed in Harry's throat. He had missed out on so much of his family. A pang of loneliness struck him rather hard as he hadn't felt for a quite some time. The boys kept his heart pretty full, they and the Weasleys were the family he had longed for, for such a long time.

He handed the photos to Lucius.

"I'd better go, I'm really quite..." Harry faltered, unable to get the face of Charlus Potter out of his head. Charlus Potter in his hat, looking so happy, waving from his picture, grinning fondly at Abraxas, who looked so serious and severe. The hint of the blond wizards smile had gone unnoticed by Harry who was more focused on his grandfather, and did not do well with 'subtle' anyway.

"Did...did you know him? Charlus, I mean. You're in one of the photos. He wrote on the back of it how your father was irritated that he'd given you so many sweets. You don't look very old though--do you remember him at all?" Harry hoped Lucius would say yes. He hoped that Lucius would sit him down and recall his grandfather in detail, share stories, and it was so strange Harry thought, that Lucius Malfoy had once been on his grandfathers knee, and Harry had never know the man existed. "I didn't know our families were so connected--your father and my grandfather were obviously friends."

"No- you will not go." Lucius said cooly and sat up to go sit on the couch beside the chair Harry was sitting in. "You will do no such thing. You need to recover a bit before I'll let you out of here. If you push yourself too much, you'll aggravate your wounds and there goes all my hard work." He scolded and then softened at Harry's questions.

"Of course I did." He gestured to the photograph in his hand. "Your grandfather and my father were more than just friends, Harry." He licked his lips a little, unsure of what words to use. "...They were lovers." He said lowly. "They fell in love when they were young, unable to actually be together due to the times. They married and well... here we are- but stayed in love with each other. And that's why there's these pictures of me with your grandfather. I liked when he would come over, he often brought cookies and other things I wasn't supposed to have. Of course, I had no idea as a child that he came over so frequently to visit my father. My mother died a few days after I was born, so... I'm certain father more than appreciated the company. I know I did. Father was always happier when he was around." He shows him the picture he had in his hand of Abraxas and Charlus holding up a dance trophy.

"This is father's happy face. You can tell, because he's got just the slightest hint of a smile. This is from a dance marathon- they frequently won them. Father would have to transfigure himself into a girl for the night so they could compete, but it was worth it to him." He passed the picture over to him. "There's scads of trophies and ribbons in father's office of what they won. When you're feeling better, I'll show you them. Father said Charlus was the best dancer he ever had the pleasure of dancing with."

He glanced over at one of the others. "Ah... this one. This one was right after your grandfather became head auror. He was a gifted man when it came to solving crimes, and figuring things out." He pointed Charlus out, who looked so proud standing there with Abraxas flanking him- as he often did. "Father and Charlus often worked together on cases. They made a good team. Charlus was in charge of hunting out the last of Grindelwald's followers- for those who used advanced dark magic, he asked father's assistance in the matter. It was the capture of Grindelwald's left hand man that won him the position. He and father hunted him in the Alps for weeks until they found him. Father said it was one of Charlus's most notable and most proud moments. Your grandfather also helped Dumbledore get to Grindelwald in the first place, you know. He was part of a task force of young wizards who protected. Very few men made it back from that. Charlus was one of 13- 13 out of hundreds. The capture of Grindelwald's left hand man was something very personal to him ...You should keep this one." He handed him back the picture.

Harry's eyebrows rose up at the word 'lovers'. Well, he really hadn't expected that at all. He listened intently to Lucius speak about his grandfather. At one point he had closed his eyes, and imagined Charlus and the somber Malfoy dancing together. He opened them again, as Lucius spoke of his grandfather's role in the First Wizarding War. Harry's expression was one of pride, and his heart swelled with it for this amazing man he had not known.

Harry took the photo back that Lucius handed him, studying it reverently.

"Quite the amazing man." Harry said quietly. He studied the photo a bit longer, taking it and Lucius words all in, and then slipped the photo into an inner pocket of his robe. He lifted the tumbler of brandy from the small table Lucius had sat it on next to Harry's chair, and looked down in the amber colored liquid. He tipped it to his lips and drank, savoring the warmth that trickle down his throat and then spread slowly through his chest. It tasted smooth and wonderful, and the spreading warmth relaxed him a bit.

"Al looks quite a bit a like him." Harry mused, taking another sip of brandy. "Who would've thought, two of our ancestors linked so closely. I never would've guessed." Harry finished the brandy in his glass, feeling quite relaxed by it. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or Lucius nursing--most likely both--but the stinging throb in his side had vanished.

"Father said he was very brave. My father was a very solitary man- Charlus was the only one to ever come up to him when they were both first years on the way to Hogwarts. They never stopped being close." Lucius drawled and looked over to him. Harry seemed a good deal more relaxed than he was a moment ago. "Father always said Charlus had to be a brave man to put up with him."

With a wave of his hand, Harry's glass refilled. "Have another. It was father's brandy, he liked it strong, I never did. He used to say 'the worse the day, the strong the brandy- out of necessity'." He shifted a little in his seat.

"Your grandfather was an amazing man. I'm sorry you never got to meet him Harry, but he died not long before you were born, of illness. The same illness that claimed my father years later. You can ask my father's portrait for more about your grandfather. I'm certain he has many more stories you could ask him about. But for now, there will be no unnecessary movements until you've recovered your strength. It simply would not do for you to leave this manor as my guest without receiving the proper hospitality." He ordered a nearby house elf to go and get something for Harry to eat.

"While my elf is fetching you something, please- tell me about you children."

Harry took another sip of his replenished brandy, savoring it. One side of his lips quirked up into a small smile when Lucius asked after the boys.

"James...well you knew my father, and I've had many people tell me he's the spitting image. James is always on full speed. He loves to be the center of attention and if he isn't, he will find a way to be. He's a good boy, bold, outgoing, and mischievous I'll admit. He has quite the er...sense of humor too--inspired by uncle George it seems like. James says he wants to be a world famous Quidditch player, and a hero who rescues girls and catches bad wizards, when he grows up." Harry stopped, laughing a bit. "He says he's already got the handsome part down, he just needs a broom to fly and girls to rescue. Al is my quiet boy. He's very smart, shy, a bit unsure of himself I think. He prefers to do things that don't involve running around like a mad thing, like coloring or having me read to him. He likes to help Grandma Weasley in the kitchen. She even made him a special apron with his name on it, which he is quite fond of. They're good boys."

Harry traced his finger along the rim of the tumbler, and then took another drink, slowly licking his lips. The brandy seemed to drip down to his toes, making him feel tingly and a bit light in the head, which was actually nice.

Once the house elf returned with what was considered to be light fare by Malfoy serving standards, Lucius sent him on his way so they were not to be bothered. "Please eat, other wise your head will swim from the alcohol. I've had them prepare you chips de citrouille- pumpkin chips. And of course, a side of ratatouille." The pumpkin chips were pan fired in seasoned flour, and the ratatouille was a mixture of vegetables and pasta.

He rested back against the couch, nodding his head at Harry's assessment of his sons. "Yes, that career is something your father would have approved of. It seems as if all Potters have similar aspirations- save your grandfather- who only wanted to rescue my father. ...Which rarely happened as father was far too quick witted to be caught in terrible trouble." He looked amused.

He cocked his head to the side when Harry spoke of Al, wondering where the boy came from with likes like those. "Fascinating. I could tell he was a bit shy in the store today. You must be quite proud. They seem like good boys."

"Mm...this smells wonderful. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I saw the food. Oh yeah--I'm quite proud of them. Mm--this is wonderful." Harry dug in to the food, enjoying it. He was actually having a decent time with Lucius, who Harry thought was being surprisingly hospitable to him. "I wouldn't mind having an elf to help out with things round home--especially cooking, as I'm no good at it. I just couldn't though--I'd never hear the end of it from Hermione. She's started crusading for their freedom in school, and never stopped yet. Once that woman gets an idea, there's no stopping it."

Harry put his fork down, and pushed his glasses up a bit.

"I really appreciate this, especially telling me about Charlus." He looked at Lucius, really taking him in.

Harry had once seen Lucius Malfoy in a very different light, had even despised him, but growing up and becoming a father himself had changed some of his views. Then, Lucius had changed also. Harry had not much contact with Lucius in the years following the war, but from time to time he had seen him, and even from small glimpses he could tell Lucius had changed, if simply by the way the man carried himself.

This evening had still caught Harry by surprise, and he had witnessed a Lucius who was indeed different from the one Draco had so often used as a threatening tool in their school days. He and Lucius were having a meaningful conversation, and Harry found he was enjoying Lucius' company...or maybe it was just the brandy. Harry smiled a bit.

"How are you getting on these days?"

Later in the evening, Harry sat slouched down in the chair feeling full, slightly tipsy, and very relaxed. He knew he would need to get home, though. The boys were staying overnight with Ron and Hermione, but Harry would need to be up and out the floo for work tomorrow at a tragically early hour. Harry barely refrained from a grumble of complaint as he lazily hoisted himself up from the chair.

"It's very late, I really should go and get a bit of sleep before I'm off again." Harry moved to Lucius, extending his hand to shake. "Maybe we could find time to talk again. I think it would do Charlus' and Abraxas' memories an honor if we kept in touch."

"Well, father made sure all the elves knew to cook French cuisine for my mother- even after she passed he kept on with the tradition. Now most everything else tastes vile." He made a face at the thought. "I have been alright- helping Draco mostly with his divorce. ...Apparently he has been cursed with a similar problem that I have. He and Ms. Greengrass wanted more children, but unfortunately they've only been able to have Scorpius."

He was sorely hoping Draco would have escaped the lasting effects of his grandparents illness, but apparently the genetic damage was passed on easily through their lines. Abraxas only succeeded in having Lucius- though Lucius was certain he didn't want anymore than one, and Lucius only had Draco though he wanted more.

"It's been difficult, but amicable on both ends." He cleared his throat. "Other than that, I am keeping to myself- a fairly fitting way to live life now, given everything that's occurred." He looked uncomfortable at what he had uttered, but he knew it was necessary. Being too out in the open attracted unwanted attention, and he no longer had the power to frighten those off who may wish to cause him harm.

"It was no trouble, Harry." He said simply. "Charlus would have wanted you to know him." He stood up and shook his hand. "If you wish to see me, you know where to find me. I'll be here in the manor. Where, that's anyone's guess. Do be careful getting home. The brandy's strong. It wouldn't do well for you to send yourself off to some place you didn't mean to via floo. ...Goodnight, Harry."

Harry slept soundly that night, and nearly missed his alarm. His day went by quickly, and he was pleased to have gotten through it without being injured. James thought it was cool when his father came home with a new wound-badge as long as it was nothing too serious, while Al would be concerned. The boys would ask him all sorts of questions. Harry would respond with a version of events that was more child-friendly, sometimes a bit cartoonish, and James would usually responding with an enthusiastic BRILLIANT or COOL. Al would sit at the kitchen table with his chin in his hands quietly listening and watching James tag after Harry's heels around the kitchen, Al with his 'no bullshit' face, Al who clearly knew that Harry was telling stories rather than the truth. The boy was too smart sometimes, Harry thought.

The end of the week was finally upon the Potters, which meant the boys would have two entire days--quite possibly uninterrupted unless there was an emergency Harry was called to--to spend with their father. They were excited, of course, though Al showed his in a more subtle way--a large smile and twinkling eyes--while James went off like a firework around the house. Harry was sure his elder son would simply explode one day, and that it was the worlds biggest mystery as to where the boy got so much energy from.

James was in fact tiring, and by Sunday evening Harry had to arrange for an outing for James with George so there could be a bit of quiet in the house. He loved the boy dearly, but there were times when Harry feared for his sanity if he did not have a small break. No doubt he would pay later, as James would probably come home having learned new tricks and with a pocket full of joke-things.

Harry slumped into a chair and watched Al, who was laying on his tummy on the couch, with his chin propped on the couch arm. For awhile they were just silent, and then Al sighed.

"It's quiet, huh."

"Yes." Harry said, with a small smile at the look of relief on Al's face.

"Will you teach me a hex so I can make him be quiet when he comes home?"

Harry laughed.

"No love, you're not allowed to hex your brother."

Al looked disappointed, and pressed his lips together in a thin, annoyed line, which further amused Harry.

"What should we do while he's gone?" Al picked at a loose thread on the couch. "How' bout we can make all his nickers pink!"

Harry grinned, and moved to sit next to Al.

"Why don't we do something less vindictive?"

Harry glanced to the fireplace. Over the week he had put in for link between his and Malfoy's floo. He'd checked on it once mid-week to find that it had been approved. He thought that the link should be working now, and moved to the fireplace to check. He made a floo-call to Lucius, his head appearing in Lucius fireplace.

"Lucius?" Harry glanced around looking for him. "Lucius er--would you mind a visit from Al and I?"

Snaggy, Lucius's replacement house elf looked at the image of Harry's head in the parlor fireplace. "Mister Potter please hold on. Master is busy. Snaggy will go inform master that you wish to speak to him!" The house elf tottered on toward the bathroom where the door was ajar. "Master! Mister Potter is calling via floo."

Lucius winced as he slowly combed the remains of an egg thrown at his person while shopping in Diagon Alley. It was ill fated on his part. He shouldn't have gone past Knockturn Alley. He shouldn't have gone down Knockturn Alley, but he couldn't help it. Curiosity got the best of him. He was only down there for a brief moment when he emerged to some sour looking people looking disapprovingly at him. It was a moment of discretion he paid for, especially when someone shouted 'deatheater' at him. And then the egg came.

"What does he want, Snaggy?" He ran a fine tooth comb through his silky locks, collecting the smashed in egg and shell until it was all out.

"He wants to come over with Al. What should Snaggy say?"

Lucius looked down at the elf, weighing the idea in his head. He wasn't sure if he was in the mood for company after what happened today, but it might be alright. He could use some cheering up. "I... yes, tell them to come over, and then go and get a plate of snacks from the kitchen- things Scorpius likes. I'll be out in a moment."

Snaggy nodded. "Yes master!"

A moment later, the house elf came back to the fireplace. "Master says your company would be appreciated. He is fixing his hair, you may come and wait for him in the parlor. Snaggy will go get snacks for Mister Potter." With a loud crack, the small elf vanished in search of the required treats.

Harry came via floo moments later, with Al at his side. The small boy was a bit dizzy from the travel, and leaned against his father's legs. Harry combed his hands fondly through Al's messy mop of black hair.

"Where's Mr. Malfoy?" Al asked quietly.

"He'll be here shortly." Harry replied, and motioned towards the house elf when it returned. "Look Al, Mr. Malfoy's house elf brought some treats for you."

Al looked at the elf, and then up to Harry.

"Da, Aunt 'Mione would be mad if I eated food from an elf."

"Er...well...aunt 'Mione isn't here, is she?" Harry said, looking around the room cartoonishly. "I don't see her."

Al looked at the house elf a bit longer, contemplating. After a moment, he sat down on the fine rug and tugged his shoe off.

"Al--what are you--oh--"

The boy removed one of his socks.

"Al don't do that, Mr. Malfoy wouldn't like it if we--"

"Here! You can have my sock. Now you gotta go be free. My aunt says that's how house-elves gets free is when people give them clothes!"

"Their master has to give them clothing, Al." Harry knelt next to his son, picking up the discarded shoe. "Come on, put your sock back on, and I'll do the shoe."

Snaggy frowned at the sock and shook it's large head. "Snaggy likes Snaggy's job. Snaggy does not want to be out in the cold and eaten by something unpleasant." Snaggy placed the tray of sweets on the coffee table in front of the ornate couch. "Master will be right out. ...Master is not having a good day." Snaggy whispered. "...Snaggy has said too much! Master will be upset if Snaggy gossips too much." And with that, the elf vanished in the air.

Lucius emerged from the bathroom, wearing dark gray slacks and a deep plum shirt. His long hair looked unmolested, braided back neatly. He ran a hand over his hair with a sigh. He did several cleaning spells on it, the egg was no longer there- but the paranoia about it lingered.

Whatever anxiety was slowly creeping up his throat, he forced it back down quickly. He tried to force a smile, but it wouldn't come. Instead he settled for a relaxed look. He didn't want to frighten Harry's young son with a sour expression. "Harry, and Al... Welcome." He walked over to them. "I trust Snaggy has greeted you and possibly said too many things. Please, have some snacks- these are Scorpius's favorites. He loves eating these things when he's over on the weekends."

Harry put Al's shoe back on.

"Can you tie it?"

Al nodded, and his tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on tying the laces into a bow.

"Brilliant!" Harry congratulated his son, and stood up to face Lucius who had just walked over to them.

"Well, he's certainly not as bad as Dobby was." Harry said, remembering when the elf had shown up in his bedroom at Privet drive, banging his head on things and causing a disaster. He couldn't help the slight smile, recalling how he'd tricked Lucius into giving Dobby one of his socks.

Al thanked Lucius, and took one of the snacks, carefully tasting it as if he expected it to be horrible--probably an ingrained response conditioned into him by Harry's cooking. Al liked it, and took another one.

"I hope we didn't come at a bad time." Harry said. "It's just that I don't get much time during the week for visits."

"Mr. Malfoy..." Al asked timidly, brushing crumbs from his hands onto his pants. "Whose Scorpius?"

"No, just unusually chatty for a house elf." Lucius said dismissively. He sat down on the couch. "Please make yourselves at home- I needed the company today. I have grown in the habit of shunning company too often as of late." He said slowly. "I should stop being something of a hermit." He folded his hands neatly in his lap. "Dobby." He grimaced. "He was a terrible elf in hindsight. I haven't the slightest idea where on this earth he even came from. I nearly fired all my elves and hired human servants after him. I was this close." He made a gesture of a pinch with his fingers.

Lucius looked down at the small boy, and finally a small smile came. "Scorpius is my grandson." He reached over and took a small picture from off the side table. "He's your age. He lives with his mother and her family during the week, and on the weekend he stays here." He handed Al the picture.

Inside, there was a small boy with pale, pointed features and blonde hair. He looked like a Malfoy alright. The picture barely moved as Scorpius at the time of the picture wanted to remain perfectly still. "He's a good boy, fairly quiet." His eyes flickered over to Harry. He was pleased to see him- Harry was a good looking man that he got along decently with- at least... they did the last time Harry was here.

"Harry, you're looking quite well. I'm assuming you've had a good rest since the last time I've seen you here." He murmured the next part so young ears could not hear it well. "You should let me see the scar on your side. I'd like to check on the healing progress sometime while you're here, if you wouldn't mind."

Al looked at the picture for awhile, taking in the small blond boy. He heard Lucius drop his voice while speaking to his father, and listened hard to see if he could understand what was so secret.

"That's fine, Lucius--I'm not so sure about rest, though. Chasing James around and keeping him from all sorts of catastrophe can be a bit tiring. Of course, I wouldn't change it. Al and I find times to take naps now and then."

"He's pretty, like you Mr. Malfoy." Al said, handing the frame back to Lucius. He cut his green eyes towards his father. "Also, you don't hafta talk quiet. I know Da gets hurt for his job sometimes." Al moved closer to Harry, resting his head against Harry's leg.

Harry sat down on the edge of Lucius' chaise and pulled Al into his lap.

"Listen, you've no need to worry. I'm alright--Mr. Malfoy healed the hurts, and they weren't very bad hurts anyway." Harry explained.

Al sat thinking for a bit, taking one of Harry's hands and running his small fingers along a raised scar that twisted out from between two of Harry's knuckles and curved over the top of his hand and disappeared beneath Harry's buttoned cuff and the sleeve of his rust colored sweater.

"Al--" Harry began.

"Mr. Malfoy, could you teach me? Or...or is it grown up wizard stuff that I'm too little for? I bet I could I learn how if you showed me. Grandma Weasley says I'm smart--I can color in the lines and spell my whole name, and I can read some words too! She said Uncle Ron couldn't spell his name til he was older than me. His name is only three letters! R-O-N, see? Mines lots more letters than that."

"That's very sweet Al, thank you." Lucius said and fought the urge to preen at the pretty comment- it had been awhile since anyone had remarked on his looks in a positive way. "Scorpius would like to meet you, you should come over one of these days and meet him. He doesn't get to play with many children." Or any children. He blamed himself for that, as many wished to not associate with the Malfoys after the last war. Choices he made that damaged his family's reputation. He hadn't really noticed it as first- Draco found a good pureblooded woman to marry and they had a son.

But when it came to manufacture friendship ties between his grandson and other children- no one wanted to associate with the family who followed Voldemort. He understood his own shunning, but when his little grandson looked up to him with teary silver eyes and cried because no one wished to play with him- that he did not understand.

He pushed the thought out of his mind after he had realized he had grown too quiet. "Yes, he... he would like that. He's not a wild boy. He enjoys playing games and doing puzzles." He cleared his throat, watching Al with Harry. Lucius immediately thought of himself, just a bit younger than Al, pleading with his father to show him what the medical potions did so he could help patch his wounds.

"You're not too little. ...I learned when I was younger..." He smiled a little at what Al said. "My goodness, you're a bright boy aren't you? That's wonderful you know. There's a few adult wizards I know that can't get beyond spelling the first three letters of their name." He looked amused. "I can show you, Al. Smart, clever children never have much difficult with potions. As a dear old friend of mine used to say, it's impatience that causes a cauldron to explode- or a Gryffindor." He looked to Harry with a bit of a smirk. "Severus would be remiss if I didn't get in a good jab now and then in his name."

Harry wasn't sure he liked the idea of Al learning how to patch him up--he was just a child, and shouldn't need to worry about such things. Harry would just take extra care to remember to fix his own wounds before coming home, or to hide them better. Sometimes by the end of the day he was just too tired, and it slipped his mind.

Harry smiled at Lucius when he made the jab about Gryffindor's and exploding cauldrons.

"Now, you just need to practice sneering when you say it." Harry said, though with a bit of fondness that he had never had for Snape as a boy, but had grown into as he thought about the potions master time and again over the years since the war had ended. "I'm sure his portrait would glad you're keeping his jibes alive, especially towards me."

"Mr. Malfoy, I'll pay attention and learn really good, I promise." Al slid down from Harry's lap, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking serious and ready for the task.