Chapter Text
Nobody on either side would admit it, but they knew that the wedding would be awkward. Ginny and Draco had managed to strike a tentative acquaintanceship after the boys’ fourth year, and they facilitated the logistics of who went where on which half term well; albeit a little eluctantly.
The Potters liked Scorpius, and Draco liked Albus, but spending time with each other was still awkward. There was a lot of history. But they tried their best.
Harry said Draco was alright.
Draco refused to say anything besides “I support you in whatever type of relationship makes you happy, Scorpius.” He could make polite conversation with Harry and Ginny, and Lily Luna, the Potter’s daughter, always asked after his collection of rare plants. The occasional dinner was survivable.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry and Ginny pitied him.
Both Muggle and magical events hadn’t ever been the same since Astoria died. He wondered what people at the church or gardening center in the village they’d “adopted” thought. He had a couple of work friends at the historical society, if you could call them that. And he had his rescued Persian kneazles. Sometimes he went to lunch with the old Pakistani couple who ran the kneazle rescue he’d adopted from. But it was alright. He was happy society had forgiven Scorpius for the wrongs he’d never done. It made sense that they wouldn’t forgive him for the wrongs they had.
The idea of attending a massive event filled with people who might still dislike him (with or without cause) was frightening.
That’s why he was pushing for a smaller wedding, although he was at the Potter’s working on his son’s wedding guest list under the guise of “helping”.
Harry and Ginny were trying for a bigger day for opposite reasons.
“Look, we just have a lot of relatives”, Ginny was telling Albus soothingly. “With the Irish side, its’ only eighty people.” “I could elope”, Abus said sullenly. Scorpius glared. Draco knew his son had his heart set on an event to remember. “Al, we talked about this, remember? We want to celebrate with people.” Al sighed. “I know”, he said, “It just makes me nervous. I feel like I’m not enough like the rest of my family.”
Ginny wrapped an arm around him. “Everyone is going to have a wonderful time, Al. The gardens will be beautiful, and the flaming cheesecakes are a great idea even if it screams New York.” New York had been Al’s final stop on his gap year, and he’d come back with some very-American- taste in food.
“But still,” Al said, eighty people is just my side, I know Scor’s is much smaller but it’s still about ninety”, and then people he works with at Mungo’s is a hundred, and we have to invite everyone I work with if we’re literally holding the wedding there, so that’s a hundred and fifteen, and then a hundred and forty with our friends, and dad says another hundred and fifty with the ministry invitations. That’s two hundred sixty five people, Mum, that’s too many.”
Harry looked apologetic. “It’s your day, Al. You don’t need to do something to make Ministry people happy.” “Yeah, but it will make life harder for you. There will just be more speculation in the press if no one gets invites, right?” Harry hesitated.
“You give a lot of speeches, right, Harry? Maybe you and James could do the wedding toasts instead of Al, would that help?” Scorpius asked. He meant well. Harry didn’t like speeches. Harry didn’t like attention, period. It reminded him of Voldemort, and Voldemort reminded him of the cupboard, and the cupboard reminded him of what made him a terrible parent.
“I’m happy to do whatever Al needs me to do”, Harry said stiffly. That only riled Al up, and the afternoon only went downhill from there.
By the end of the day, Al had stormed out and screamed at his dad, Harry had angrily dropped the teacups into the sink while cleaning up and broken them, and Draco and Ginny were sitting on the front porch while Scorpius apparated home to find Al and try to get him to come back. James had dropped in and taken Harry flying to cool off.
“There are some odd logistics, let’s put it that way.” Ginny finally said, clearing her throat. “Your parents for one thing. I can handle the press, I can handle the frumpy old relatives and the emotions, but I still get nightmares about that diary sometimes.”
“My parents aren’t coming.” Draco said quietly.
She frowned. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. My father died a couple months after the boys got engaged, and he stopped asking after Scorpius after he transitioned. Scorpius sees my mother every once in a while, on his terms, but he’s not close with them anyway. We’ve been restricting contact-er, Astoria and I restricted contact ever since he was six and they watched him overnight and my father shouted at him when he asked to read a Muggle story before bed. He cried for a couple of days, he was so afraid. ”
“That’s awful.” Ginny said softly.
“It is what it is.” Draco was getting more uncomfortable.
“To be honest,” she said, “My dad loves Scorpius, and he can get over his pride about the Weasleys not liking the Malfoys, but my Mum has never forgotten Lucius was a suspect in her brothers’ murders in the seventies.”
Draco grimaced. “Isn’t it awful? The things they leave us.”
Ginny summoned a bottle of whisky and two glasses from the house, and held one out. “Maybe we should have a smaller ceremony. Ask the boys what they want and run with it. Harry and I can handle the Ministry, and you don’t have to invite your third cousins to a wedding. We can make a goal to be more laid back parents, just helping out with their day. It’s just so easy to get overinvolved when my kids need me, even if I mean well.”
Draco, who had been anxious all day, really wanted to go home, but he thought of his son and took a glass. “I’m always grateful for second chances”, he said. “Now, I saw your article on Puddlemere the other day.”