Chapter Text
“Hey Draco.”
“Potter,” Draco said stiffly. “Elias,” he greeted more genially. “What brings you to the apothecary?”
“We’re picking up anti-emetic potions for papa,” Elias said. “Daddy knocked him up again.”
Draco smiled. “Ah, excellent. Perhaps they will have the good sense to name me as godfather this time.”
“Sirius will fight you.”
“That man is impossible,” Draco sniffed. “He can’t expect to have all the babies. Nevertheless, I may have to content myself with being the godmother,” he sighed.
“That’s so nice,” Elias beamed. “What’re you in here for?”
“I’m picking up skin regeneration potion for father,” Draco said stiffly. “His arse still has not recovered from the bite wound Black gave him during the battle.”
Elias hid a smile behind his hand, but Harry did not bother hiding a full belly laugh. Draco glared at him. “Cease laughing at my father’s plight, Potter! He did not deserve that, not when he had already defected as a spy for your side!”
“I know,” Harry giggled, “I’m sorry. But still...Sirius ate your dad’s arse.”
Draco looked faint. “Egads.”
“It tasted like posh biscuits,” Sirius said, swaning into the conversation. “Hello, not-Godson.”
“You could at least apologize,” Draco said to Sirius. “Father has been told to abstain from any sort of activity, including sitting!”
“I apologize for nothing,” Sirius giggled.
“You are a thirty-eight year old man,” Draco observed sternly, “it does not behoove you to giggle thusly.”
Sirius giggled harder. “Posh tea biscuit arse.”
Draco sighed, sensing that Sirius would never mature. “Mother is happy though. She informed me that father used pester her for it at least twice a week. Horny old snake,” Draco snarled distastefully, “defiling my wonderful mother.”
“Always glad to help family,” Sirius beamed.
“Anyway, I must be getting back,” Draco said. “Toodle-pip.”
“What a ponce,” Sirius snorted at Draco’s retreating back. “I forbid either of you from sleeping with him.”
“Ew,” Harry grinned, who had his sights set firmly on Neville’s not-so-long-bottom. It was a rather nice bottom, when all things were said and done.
Elias, however, grinned like a mischievous pixie. “No promises.”
Sirius gasped and ranted about deceptively posh tasting Malfoys and how they were actually rubbish people until they reached the castle.
“Grandpapa approves,” Eli said stoutly.
“Albus was a right fool sometimes,” Sirius said. “Just you wait until I tell your fathers about this.”
Harry nudged his brother and winked, before going off to help Neville with the rebuilding of the castle. From the distance, they heard a telltale oops-I-seemed-to-have-dropped-my-wand-let-me-just-bend-over-and-get-it from Harry.
“I taught him that one,” Sirius said proudly, watching Neville take in Harry’s shapely bum with the appreciation it was due. A good egg, that Longbottom, Sirius thought. Unfortunate name, though. He hoped that Harry would not change his name upon marriage.
“What other moves do you know?” Eli asked.
“Oh ho! I am wise to your machinations, you sneaky, sneaky snek child,” Sirius crowed. “I shan’t be giving you any tips on courting Malfoys and their ilk. You want a nice, decent, bloke or blokette, like a Weasley, or Lovegood. Even one of those Greengrass girls, or that poncey MacMillan boy will do. Just no Malfoys.”
“Alright,” Elias said. “I suppose Fred Weasley’s quite nice.”
“NO.”