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In Harry's some-odd years on this earthly rock, spinning around a dying star, he’s learned a few things about himself.
He adores vanilla ice cream. Maybe more than treacle tart.
Draco ribs him about his blandness every time he delivers a scoop atop his dessert, and so Harry reminds him of how un-vanilla they are. It draws a blush to the back of Draco’s neck and elicits enthusiastic retching sounds from the kids.
His favourite day is today, the first day of autumn—a harbinger of all things gloriously fall: crisp walks amidst golden leaves, pumpkin hunting at the farmers market, and Molly’s blackberry crumble... with vanilla ice cream, thank you very much.
And… he is not a morning person.
Oh, he gets up bloody early, thanks to an aging bladder and Albus’ restless legs. Or Lily’s elbow in his eyesocket. Sometimes both. Mornings had been almost bearable back before kids, when Draco would wake him up with his hot mouth and sleepy hands.
Back when the dawn wasn’t the only thing rising.
Harry frowns at the sun cracking the treeline out the window, spilling light into 12 Grimmauld’s kitchen like the yolk of the egg running in the frypan.
“Daaaad!” Lily whines from the kitchen table. “James is eating all the cereal!"
“It’s my cereal,” James says, holding the box out of reach, lording over her with his newly-sprouted three inch height advantage that has also shortened his jeans.
Lily sticks out her tongue. “Tosser.”
“Lily!” Albus says, scandalized. “Dad, Lily said a bad word!”
The acrid smell of burning toast assails Harry, and he sighs at the bubbling eggs. “Scorp, the toast.”
Scorpius stands at the counter, sleep rumpled, and he looks so much like Draco, Harry’s heart melts. His un-seeing thousand-mile stare widens his amber eyes as he waits on his toast—plain with a dab only of butter, please. Harry secretly loves that Scorpius shares his penchant for the simple things, a vanilla kinship.
“Ugh,” Lily says. She collects her long auburn hair into a wad at the back of her neck. “Now my hair will smell all burnt.”
“An improvement,” James smirks. Lily smacks his arm, sending dry cereal spilling over the table. “Dad, Lily made a mess!”
“You’re the one pouring out the entire box!”
James digs a hand into the box, elbow-deep. Nuggets overflow onto the table and floor. “There should be a prize—”
“Looking for this?” Albus holds up a tiny plastic toy, his grin made all the more devious by two unruly black curls sprouting like devil horns from his temples. James, in his scramble to snatch his prize, knocks over a glass of juice.
Smoke now puffs out of the toaster.
Lily tosses cereal at Scorpius’ head. “Wake up, Scorpy! The toaster is on fire!”
Scorpius starts, jostling loose a cereal crumb caught in the blond cowlick tuft at his crown. He grabs Harry’s tea sat next to the hob and pours it over the appliance. Sparks spew from the slots, and with a loud pop, the toaster dies.
“Sorry,” he cringes.
“Bloody hell!” Lily exclaims.
From amidst wrestling arms and wild hair, James and Albus both yell, “Lily!”
Draco enters the kitchen then, polished and posh in his crisp oxford, looking fresh and un-harried. “Good morning, all,” he says, smiling brightly, morning prick that he is.
Harry takes the pan off the flame. “Five minutes to cook in peace,” he says, eye twitching. “Five fucking minutes!”
“Dad!”
Draco purses his lips, and with a sharp tug to his shirt sleeve and crook of his elbow, checks his watch. “If we leave in the next five minutes, I’ll buy you lot hot chocolate at Luna’s on the way to school.”
Albus tugs James’ forearm away from his mouth. “With marshmallows?”
“And whipped cream.”
Lily wiggles excitedly, blue eyes big and shining. Draco sets the egg timer ticking.
“Countdown starts now.”
The kids dash from the kitchen in a frenzied mass of skinny limbs, but not before Scorpius gives Harry and Draco quick hugs. From the head of the pack stomping up the stairs Lily exclaims, “I get to wear James’ new jumper!”
Blessed silence descends.
Draco plates the eggs and pours Harry another cup of tea. Harry goes to fetch the milk, only to realize the bottle is empty when he slams it into the inside top of the fridge. James.
“Bloody hell.”
“And we wonder where Lily gets it.” Draco opens the freezer and removes a carton of vanilla ice cream. “I’ve bought you five minutes,” he says, placing the carton on the table. “What say we put that filthy little mouth of yours to good use after I drop the kids at school?”
“Don’t you have that meeting—?”
Draco cards his fingers through Harry’s hair and leans to brush his lips on the shell of Harry’s ear. “I canceled it.”
“Fuck, I love you.”
“I know.” Draco fists Harry’s curls briefly, eliciting a cascade of promising thrills down Harry’s spine, before releasing him. “I’m leaving,” he calls out to the heathens, “in three… two…” He exits the kitchen with a parting wink.
Harry grins, and dipping a spoon into the ice cream, stirs a dollop into his tea.