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It all started with Scorpius' Christmas gift. Frankly, the muggle contraption shouldn’t have even worked in a home this overrun with old magic. If forced to guess, Arthur Weasley must have spent a long time tinkering with it to make it function.
“It’s called a telly,” Hermione explained to Scorpius. Draco lingered behind them, pretending to not pay attention to their conversation. With a few simple instructions and a few strange boxes Hermione had called ‘videotapes,’ Scorpius was quickly captivated.
The gift had kicked off a torturous year of movie nights. After the seventh viewing of an alleged children’s movie focused around making coats out of dogs, he asked Hermione privately if perhaps they could re-home the thing.
“You know, I could ask and see if we could get quidditch to play on it. It’s a new endeavor Arthur is working on with the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Some of the muggle-borns swear by it for watching that football sport.”
“Quidditch? On a telly? Probably not nearly as good as being there in the moment.”
“Probably not, no.”
“And it’s easy enough to apparate to the stadium.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I hardly see a reason why there would be a need to watch games from home. The radio works just fine.”
That very weekend, Arthur had returned to modify their machine to tune into the Falmouth Falcons games and instructed Draco on how to operate the apparatus on his own.
“It’s like their own magical wand. Lots of different words for it, the muggles have,” Arthur explained. “The thingymajiggy, flipper, flapper, dangle. It’ll take you between the different screens, sort of like flipping a page.”
Draco looked over to his wife pleadingly. Taking pity on him, Hermione took the device out of Arthur’s hands herself.
“We’ll just call it a clicker.”
After that began a respectable ceasefire between Draco and the telly, which held strong for most of the year. That was until Scorpius was gifted a movie from Hermione’s parent's collection for his sixth birthday. Draco read the cover aloud.
“' The Wizard of Oz'? Is there such a place in the Americas? Did he graduate from Ilvermorny?”
“It’s a movie written and played by muggles, Draco. It’s not real. No one in it went to Ilvermorny.”
“Oh,” Draco paused thoughtfully, turning over the case carefully to read the description on the back. “So he’s a squib then?”
His wife sent him a deadly glare from across the room as she carefully finished setting up the telly. It was an incredibly fickle machine.
“You better not say a word to Scorpius, Draco Malfoy,” From behind the telly, she placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “I mean it. You know how he is.”
Oh yes, he was vividly aware of how Scorpius could get. He was the one to tell Scorpius that some horrific film called ‘ The Lion King’ had been stolen by pixies after a particularly traumatizing breakdown following the tragic passing of a cartoon lion. After a long evening of crying and comforting, Hermione snuck into his office the next day with another tape in hand, with a cover of small doe and other unassuming woodland creatures called ‘Bambi’.
“Banish this one too.”
Feeling fairly confident that this film would not brutalize their son after being personally approved by Hermione, the Malfoy family curled up together that night and started the film.
His wife goes on to explain how important the shift from black and white to technicolor was for the time period. Such a clever witch he married, and very clever muggles as well. The difference it must’ve made to the audience when the movie came out would’ve been startling.
The story captivated Scorpius from the moment the girl landed in Oz.
Scorpius was quiet throughout most of the movie, save for a few moments when he gasped aloud and tugged on their sleeves. As the ‘witch’ melted away, Scorpius turned to Draco with his eyes wide. “Did you see that, papa?”
“Don’t be fooled,” Draco muttered, petting Scorpius’s white-blond hair. “Us good witches and wizards still need to take baths.”
Throughout the movie, Scorpius sunk further and further into Hermione’s side, until she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.
“How is it that there’s just one good witch and one wicked witch?” Draco asked after the rowdy dog pulled back the curtain. “How did no one realize he was a fraud?”
“There’s a book about that,” Hermione replied.
Of course there was. Taking in the pointed look Hermione sent him over Scorpius’ head, Draco practically bit his tongue to hold back his other opinions regarding Wizard impersonators. Scorpius gave his mother his trademark pleading eyes.
“Would you read it to me, mummy?”
“Maybe when you’re older, sweetheart.”
As the movie came to a fitting end, with the red-headed girl landing back at home surrounded by people who care for her, Draco asked “What did you think, Scorpius?”
Scorpius didn’t even look away from the screen before he replied with only one word.
“Again.”
After the sixth rewatch, they stopped counting how often the Fraud of Oz was playing in their sitting room. Draco swore he could practically see the yellow brick road burnt into the screen when the telly was turned off. It went on for weeks. He made a mental note to send Weasley a howler for introducing this mental rot into his household.
Over supper on one October evening, Scorpius suddenly made a declaration loudly over the table. “I want us to dress up for Halloween.”
Draco and Hermione looked at each other quickly over their plates, startled. Scorpius normally never made statements so fiercely. He was mostly content answering their gentle questions, and he in turn would sometimes ask his own, like would he be able to see Albus soon? Or if they might read him a book before bed that night?
“What an excellent idea, Scorp,” Hermione said, quickly adapting. “I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was a little girl!”
Draco set his silverware down. “Do you have a costume in mind?”
“Of course, no ghosts, vampires, or ghouls,” interjected Hermione. “Definitely not werewolves.”
Right. Doing so would definitely be in poor taste. Scorpius timidly moved around the greens on his plate, his sudden vigor evaporating quickly under his parent's undivided attention. If Lucius was around to see this, he most certainly would’ve vanished the boy’s food and silenced him for interrupting dinner with his muggle holiday traditions, and declared him weak.
Determined not for the first time to make the opposite choices of his own father, Draco began to offer suggestions. “Perhaps we could make a mandrake costume? Surely the plants wouldn’t mind. Or maybe we could dress as players of the Falcon’s? You got their new kit for your birthday this year–“
“I want to be a lion.”
Oh.
“Is this about that Lion Lord movie, Scorpius? We did talk about that one for a while.”
“‘The Lion King’, Draco,” said Hermione.
“Or is this about being a Gryffindor?” Draco shifted forward in his seat, quickly calculating the odds of his wife hexing him under the table. “I’m sure we could find you a dragon costume if you’d prefer that.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she sipped her glass. It seemed the odds were high. Draco was quite familiar with that look. After a few years of studying, he had learned it meant Don’t be a prick. They had done their best to avoid talking about Hogwarts house loyalty around Scorpius, but when most of the adults had gone to Hogwarts at some point, sometimes the topic of house ties could not be ignored.
“Slytherin’s house animal is a serpent,” said Hermione measuredly. “Not a dragon.”
“No,” Scorpius finally spoke up. “The Cowardly Lion that helps Dorothy. I want to dress up like him.”
Oh no.
“What a lovely idea. There are so many characters for your father and I to choose from! We should set up the camera to mark the occasion,” The glint in her eyes was sharp. “Right, Draco?”
Schooling his own features as Scorpius turned to him, his eyes wide and pleading, Draco replied. “Fantastic idea, Scorp.”
As they all turned back to their unfinished dinners, Draco felt as though water had been poured on him, melting him away.
It was difficult to talk about anything else after they tucked Scorpius into bed that night.
“That film is an insult to Wizarding kind. How can you possibly endorse this, Hermione? The man paraded around as a wizard to scam an entire community, including muggles!”
“Oh, he was mostly harmless.”
“Harmless? Tell that to the Wicked Witch of the West,” Draco scoffed, growing agitated again as he changed out of his robes. “She was a real witch, and they melted her! What did she ever do to Dorothy? Those red slippers were her sisters, of course she should’ve gotten them. Not to mention stealing her broom. What’s a muggle going to do with a broomstick? Sweep? ”
Hermione looked up from what she was reading and squinted at him. “You really must read that book I gave you.”
Later on, when Draco climbed into bed and turned out all the lights, Hermione turned into him and whispered softly. “I think the lion gives him courage. When you’re six, everything that’s only a little bit hard is the hardest thing you’ve ever gone through. I think he just wants to be brave.”
Draco kissed his wife’s forehead. While she fell asleep easily, he stayed awake into the night, thinking to himself.
“His costume fits him perfectly! Oh, he looked so happy, I cannot wait for you to see it,” Hermione exclaimed as she walked into their bedroom Halloween night after getting Scorpius ready as Draco finished up some of his own work. Eying him warily as she made her way to the bathroom, she paused. “You look rather nice. Did you go somewhere? Where’s your costume?”
Dressed in his finest dressing robes, Draco rolled up the parchment he had finished writing. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a wizard.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
“Me? Would I joke about this?”
Hermione pulled out her wand suddenly and stood straight in the doorway. “If you’d like to go as the Wizard of Oz, I could turn your robes bright green. Give you a mustache? Spice up your hair?”
Seeing as his wand was across the room, Draco’s self-preservation quickly kicked in. “Hardly necessary.”
“We’ll transfigure the knight’s armour in the hallway as your costume,” She grabbed her beaded bag and retreated into the bath.
“Merlin knows that thing is absolutely cursed, love.”
“Then make a quick firecall to Bill! See if he’s available for some curse-breaking.”
“I meant what I said before, all Weasleys are banned from this house for the foreseeable future.” Just yesterday, the Weasel King had transfigured Albus to have bright blonde hair, and Scorpius to have unruly, uncombed black hair. Draco barely noticed until they were about to floo home.
“Don’t say that,” Hermione called out sharply. “You know Scorpius likes seeing Albus. And don’t lie and say you haven’t noticed how quiet Scorpius gets around Rose.”
Draco groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Please do not remind me.”
While Draco had been raised to be an insufferable brat, Scorpius was incredibly kind and shy. With gentle urging from Hermione, Scorpius climbed out of his protective shell around some people, including Albus Potter. Then the other Weasley had to show up with his own offspring, and one look at little Rose Weasley had made him turn right back into himself.
“He’ll grow out of it, I’m sure.” At the age of six, Draco had his own crush on Pansy Parkinson. With the decision-making skills of a mountain troll, he quickly learned that you should not physically tug on a girl’s pigtails.
Only figuratively pull on them.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you’re not in that armour set by the time I get out of this room, I will enchant it and force you to duel it.”
“I would win,” Draco lied. “What are you dressing up as, anyway?”
“Oh, you’ll see!”
After summoning the large metal can, and a few precautionary curse-detecting spells, Draco made himself busy with expanding the set to match his tall frame. By the time Hermione emerged, he had just gotten the chest plate to fit, the metal clinking together loudly.
“All done!”
Draco froze.
“The scarecrow,” Draco said, absolutely dumbfounded. “You’re going as the scarecrow. The character without a brain?”
“Isn’t it funny?” Hermione twirled to show off her ensemble. Raggedy boots, a straw hat, a shirt that had definitely come out of the Weasel’s closet, and face makeup. Draco looked down at his own outfit, holding the helmet he had yet to put on in his hands.
The Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, and the Tin Man. That clever witch.
“Oh yes, perfect. We should call to see if Ginevra would wear pigtails and perhaps make Potter bark for us.”
Dramatically rolling her eyes, Hermione pulled out her wand again, tapping his helmet and transfiguring it into a tin funnel.
“That’s an antique, I’ll have you know. Shall I keep the sword?”
“Oh, you hush. Let’s get outside before the sun sets, I want that photo before dinner!”
The front steps of the Manor were decorated spectacularly, as they always were for the holiday. Large and small pumpkins, which they carved together with family and friends just the night before, lit candles that dripped wax on the stone, and cobwebs on the railings. Narcissa couldn’t have charmed a better backdrop herself.
Hermione slipped past them as they all stepped outside, holding a case in her hands. “I’ll go set up the camera, and make sure the timer works right.”
The autumn air was growing cooler into the night. Draco could feel the chill through his tin can costume, quickly casting a warming charm over his family. He could visibly see the relief from the cold once the spell finished on Scorpius, who looked up at him with a smile.
“Papa, do you like my costume?”
The attention to detail Hermione gave his costume was unsurprising. Scorpius was dressed in his own lion suit, with gloves that looked like paws, and whiskers drawn onto his face. A huge, giant mane of fur on his head, with lion ears poking out the top. Looked quite a bit like Hermione’s hair when they were kids in school.
Best not to mention that though.
“Very well done. I’m very convinced you’re a big, scary lion,” Draco struggled a bit as he kneeled down to adjust Scorpius’ costume where needed, fluffing his fake mane. “But what do you think of our costumes?”
Scorpius moved his mouth in contemplation, tilting his head. “They’re all right. Maybe we should go to Kansas, the Wizard could give you and mum medals, too.”
Draco was silent for a moment, carefully picking out his next few words. Hermione could surely hear them a few steps away on the lawn, and he’d prefer to make it through the night without getting hexed.
“Well, it turned out Oz wasn’t a wizard, right?” Draco began carefully, adjusting the ‘Courage’ pin on Scorpius’ costume. “ But do you know who is a wizard?”
“You are, papa.”
“That’s right, but so are you. And your mum is a witch, one of the best there is, actually. The brightest witch I’ve ever met. She doesn’t need a diploma from anyone to tell her that.”
“I know they’re just costumes,” Scorpius muttered, looking down and nervously picking his fake fur. “I know it’s not real.”
“But it makes you feel a bit better to wear it?”
Draco could feel Hermione’s stare burning holes in his back, clearly still pretending to still be tinkering with the camera.
Better get to the point quickly before she rightfully decided to turn him to stone.
“A little less scared, maybe?”
Finally, his son looked up at him and exclaimed, “You cleared out that boggart in my dresser a few days ago, and all I did was cry! I’m not brave, not at all.”
There was no boggart, just a frankly rather large spider, but Draco charmed roller skates onto it in a desperate attempt to make Scorpius laugh.
“I wasn’t always brave, you know. Being brave means doing things even when you’re scared. Like dealing with boggarts, or meeting new people.”
Sometimes, when he would wake up and feel incredibly overwhelmed by how much love he has for his family, the people who love him back unconditionally, he would pretend that he was the sort of person that might deserve such a thing. If done long enough, it would start to feel like maybe he would deserve it.
“As you get older, it gets easier to pretend like you’re not scared when you really are, and then you realize some things aren’t as scary as they may seem, just like the Lion learned. As for me, I don’t think I make a good Tin Man, you see, because I already have a heart. My heart right here,” Draco poked Scorpius’ nose. “It’s you, and your mum.”
Scorpius threw his arms around Draco’s neck in an instant and hugged him tightly.
“I love you,” Draco muttered into the bushel of coarse fur crowding Scorpius’ head.
“I love you, too.”
“All right!” Hermione finally called out, beaming, rushing back to the front steps. “We have ten seconds! Scorpius, time to pick up your pumpkin!”
Quickly shimming her way between them, they all quickly situated themselves and smiled at the camera.
“Give us a roar!”
Scorpius let out a loud attempt at a roar that sent Draco and Hermione into a fit of laughter. While Hermione summoned the camera set back into its case, Draco turned to his son. “Let’s get inside then, I’ve heard a rumor that we’re having Pumpkin Pasties for dessert tonight.”
“And Cauldron Cakes?”
“You’ll have to go inside and see.”
Turning back to his wife as Scorpius ran back inside, who was inspecting the photograph carefully before extending it to him. Draco took the photo from Hermione and studied their reflections moving within the frame. When they weren’t looking in the camera’s direction, Hermione was smiling down at Scorpius as he roared and laughed.
Anytime people would mention how much they looked alike, Draco fought the urge to point out that Scorpius inherited his mother’s bright smile. With the feeling of earning just one, Draco could conjure hundreds of patronuses.
With his own face captured in the photo, Draco could see his own adoration and fondness written plainly as he looked down at his little family, as though his grinch heart had grown three sizes.
That particular muggle movie hadn’t been so terrible.
Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione. “Now, where do you want to hang this up, my love?”
