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Draco thought perhaps Harry was having him on when he’d explained how Muggle children celebrate Halloween. He’d laughed and thought no more about it.
Now, gazing down at what Harry’s dressed Scorpius in, he understands that Harry had been entirely serious.
“No. I’ll not have my son humiliated in public wearing…whatever that is.” Draco frowns. “And why have you sat him in a plant pot? ”
“Humiliated?” Harry fiddles with the mass of leaves that adorn the top of the knitted brown onesie. “Don’t be so dramatic, he’s a baby. And he likes it—don’t you, Scorp?”
Scorpius giggles and bounces inside the pot.
“He’s ten months old, he’s no idea what he likes. What is it, anyway?”
“He’s a mandrake,” Harry says. “Get it? Man-drake...like Draco...because you're his father?" Draco stares. "It’s sweet!”
"That's utterly nonsensical." Draco bends and lifts Scorpius into his arms. He grins gummily and squeals, delighted at being held. "Harry's lost his mind, darling."
"Hey!"
“But I suppose I’ll allow it,” Draco says, kissing Scorpius's cheek.
"It’s cute, how you think that matters," Harry says, grinning. "Come out with us tonight?"
Draco rolls his eyes and embraces the madness. "If I must."