Chapter Text
“It’s cosy,” said Scorpius as they stepped into the caravan.
‘Shithole’ had been the word on the tip of Draco’s tongue, but he stamped the thought down and settled for agreeing. “Cosy indeed,” Draco said.
When Scorpius had asked for a traditional British seaside holiday, Draco thought it a simple wish to grant. Sure, Draco would personally prefer to spend their summer in France. But who was he to say no to that face! Astoria had always been the voice of reason between them. Now she’s not here, and Draco is rudderless.
If the seaside would make Scorpius happy, then to the fucking seaside they would go.
Draco had used the same logic when he bought Scorpius a Crup for his birthday last year. He had channelled all his inner Lucius Malfoy to act like an utter arsehole at the school board committee. Forcing Hogwarts to add Crups to their list of authorised familiars.
Apparently, multiple families took advantage of the rule change soon after. Scorpius said they even have a new club at school for Crup training. Apparently, the Care of Magical Creatures professor is even contemplating a Crup Show for the Autumn term.
If anything, it might be the first act of assholery to earn Draco positive reputation points in the wizarding community. Turns out being a shit for a good cause is alright. Go figure.
Said Crup had, of course, come on holiday with them. Willow - Willowkins, Willowmenia, Willsey - the precious princess herself. The downside of having Crups added to the familiars list was that Draco barely got to see her during term time. To make up for it, he regularly spent a small fortune sending dog biscuits and toys along with Scorpius’s care packages every week. So a summer with her along for the ride is blissful, in truth.
Willow’s four paws trampled up and down the small caravan until, eventually, she curled up on the sofa. According to the booking, she’s not allowed on the furniture.
Well, the booking instructions said dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture. And Willow is not technically a dog- but that’s not an argument Draco is willing to have with a muggle travel agent. It doesn’t matter anyway; he’ll give the place a good clean before they leave.
Besides, Draco has already learnt he is but a servant to Willow’s cuddly whims and daren’t challenge her.
Draco and Scorpius quickly brought their bags in from the car. They raced the rain that had just started trickling down from the grey clouds. The rain got louder and louder as it thrashed against the thin windows.
“Dad, look! There's a real television in the living room! Merlin’s balls - there’s one in my bedroom too!”
Draco couldn’t help but smile as Scorpius dashed around like a snitch.
“Well, you will need to be the one to work these television things. I can’t get my head around them.”
“You’ve got to think of the controller as a wand, Dad. Look, instead of saying a spell, you press buttons to make it do things. This is the ‘on’ one.” Scorpius pressed down on a tiny button with great force. Father and son looked quizzically at the dark black screen across from them.
Nothing changed.
“Huh, maybe it’s a different one,” Scorpius said as he started stabbing at buttons randomly. “Or maybe you’re meant to press it twice… or hold one down…”
“It’s fine, Scorp. The television is not essential to our holiday cheer. There are plenty of other things to keep us occupied. Like the arcade, and the promenade.”
“I’ll get Albus to show me later,” Scorp sighed with defeat. Chucking the controller across to the other sofa. It madeWillow jump, but she soon tucked her pink nose back under her tail and resumed snoring.
“Sorry, Wills!” Scorpius said, with a grimace. Draco slumped down on the sofa next to Scorpius.
“I’m not having you fire-call to Egypt just to tell the Potters I’m too incompetent to work a Muggle television. There’s no fireplace in this caravan, anyway,” Draco said, crossing his arms.
“Oh, well. That’s something I meant to tell you about, Dad…” Scorpius fidgeted in his seat, then stood up and began pacing the small open-plan living space. “It’s a funny story. But Albus is actually staying, like, a few caravans down. Like, right now.”
Draco went cold.
“No,” Draco said slowly. “All the Potters and Weasleys are in Egypt for the next two weeks. I’ve had to listen to Ron Weasley chatting obnoxiously loudly about it from across the Ministry canteen for months, Scorp.”
“Well, yeah. Most of them went. But, since Albus’s parents divorced last year, his dad was feeling all weird about going on a big family holiday with his ex-wife’s family. So, he chose to stay home instead. And Albus felt sorry for him, so he stayed too. Then they were, like, reminiscing about old family holidays. They used to come to this park every year until recently. So the two of them came here. And I thought we could, like, do the same and hang out…”
Draco had heard about the divorce, mostly against his will. It had been slathered across all the gossip columns when it was first announced: ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World Dumped by Quidditch Star’. The coverage had been rather unsavoury and distasteful. Draco had felt gross even scanning the headlines.
Draco’s head spins. “Does Albus know we’re here?”
“Yes.”
“Does his father know we’re here?”
“I dunno. But I guess he’ll find out.”
Draco put his head in his hands and took deep breaths.
“It’s fine, Dad! Really!”
“It’s… not really okay, Scorpius.” Draco looked drained as he met Scorpius’s jittery gaze. “I’m not mad at you, okay? It’s a very complicated situation between me and Mr Potter. Also, I’m afraid my interrupting Mr Potter’s getaway with his boy isn’t going to help with cheering him up.”
Draco can hardly bear how crestfallen his son looks. Over the years, Draco has spent a lot of time trying to shield Scorpius from the worst of his reputation. He has tried to be upfront about his history, too, but in a sanitised ‘child-appropriate' way. Usually, when it had to be brought up, Astoria would handle those ‘talks’.
But now that will forever be Draco’s task.
Draco was not sure the appropriate way to tell his child fully and frankly that he spent a significant period of his formative years being an actual evil bastard.
Regardless of how much Draco had already shared, Scorpius still guarded an unfailing belief that everything was okay and surely no one could hate his father all that much. And maybe that was Draco’s fault, he thinks. No, it definitely was. His fault for being too cowardly to let his son know the whole of it. Too cowardly to give his son the tools to hate him with.
Scorpius started up again, “Albus said, that his aunt Hermione said, that his dad went through a phase of talking about you all the time at school. So maybe he wouldn’t be as upset as you think? He might like catching up with someone he’s not related to, with everything going on.”
“All the time? I assure you, Scorp, when we were at school, Harry Potter was far too busy being the golden-boy Quidditch Champion, and generally defeating great evils, to give me much thought. Apart from the times I forced him to pay attention. When I, frankly, bullied him. We've talked about this before. I’m sure I spent more time thinking about ways to cause him trouble than he ever spared for me.”
Draco watched as all this went over Scorpius’s head. He sighed again and resolved himself to the situation.
“What do you reckon we take Princess Willow for a walk around the site?” Draco offered.
Willow, attuned to the word ‘walk’, stood up and did a big stretch, then let out a large sneeze before licking her chops.
The rain had stopped, leaving the windows glinting with droplets and a rainbow dancing through the sky.
“So, we can stay?”
“Of course. It’s your summer holiday, I just,” Malfoy paused. “I want you to have a good time. Whatever that involves. Though I’d better make the most of my time with you before you go disappearing to find Albus, right?” Draco said with a wry smile. “I’m sure we dads can find ways to entertain ourselves, too. Separately, though.”
Scorpius gave a grin so brilliant it almost entirely made up for the fact that Draco would most definitely have to exchange awkward small talk with Harry Potter over the next few days. Draco stood up and grabbed Willow’s lead.
What he wasn’t expecting was to run into Harry straight away as they came out the door. Though at least it answered the question of whether Harry knew he was here.
“Albus!” Scorpius said, vaulting over the gated decking. Merlin, Draco wished he still had that kind of athleticism.
The boys hugged in a distinctly un-Slytherin way (in Draco’s opinion) and quickly started babbling at each other about their holiday so far.
“Scorp- you got here! We will have the best time! I’ll show you all the best arcade games. And Willow is gonna love the beach! The summer hols have been a bit of a drag so far. Before we came here, Grandad was having me sort all of his Muggle gadgets. Which is fine, but when it’s just a pile of rubber ducks, it gets a bit boring. And they were all going on about Egypt, talking about how they went years ago when they won a competition or something. This is cooler, though. Dad even let me bring my broomstick.”
“I take your sorting rubber ducks and trump you with my hols experience of playing assistant gardener to my grandma. She’s right fierce about her roses! And the number of times the peacocks have pecked me is so not cool!”
Draco tried to tune out the boys' teenage angst over their ‘uncool holidays’ thus far and instead focused on Harry Potter. Harry seemed to be staring holes into Draco’s precious Mini Clubman, which was parked on the grass.
“Malfoy, I didn't know you could drive,” Harry said, without lifting his eyes from the car’s blue sparkly paint job and sleek alloy wheels.
Draco bit his tongue sharply to hold back his first instinct to say something cutting in return.
He reminded himself of happy thoughts. Like his favourite breakfast food (croissants drowned in jam) and his favourite music (Salazar, those women in Girls Aloud knew how to make a banging tune). Over the course of a minute of panicked thinking, he channelled all of these happy thoughts to power a forced smile and a simple reply: “I learned when I was 18.”
“Cool.”
Cool. Cool. Everything was smashing. Draco was absolutely having a civil conversation with Harry Potter. No bother.
“We took a portkey to get here,” Harry said. “But I have to admit, I’ve missed driving lately. I need to get a car again.”
Harry was clearly enamoured by the car.
“Dad, Albus and I can walk Willow if you want to show Mr Potter the car? You could go for a drive!” Scorpius said excitedly.
“That keen to get rid of me, are you?” Draco said.
“Boys will be boys,” Harry said, rolling his eyes as he finally tore his gaze away from the car. “It’s not a bad idea, though. Come on, Malfoy. Show me what you’ve got. Bet you’re a right speed demon if you’re the same on the road as you are on a broom.”
Draco felt uneasy about Harry’s easy friendliness. But, then again, the boys were right there. It might be back to normal when they are alone. Draco can’t remember the last time he was alone with Harry Potter.
“Well, have fun then. See you in a bit, Dad. Take care of him, Mr Malfoy!” Albus said, already walking off down a grass path between the rows of caravans.
Scorpius quickly took advantage of his father’s confusion, tugging Willow’s lead easily out of Draco’s grip before running after Albus. Willow lolloped alongside Scorpius. Her disguised double tail whipped back and forth, barely visible to the wizard eye thanks to her charmed collar.
Draco closes his eyes for a moment and gathers himself once again before turning to face the famous Harry Potter.
“We don’t actually have to hang out,” Draco said, carefully.
“Fuck off, you’re not getting out of giving me a go in your car. Get your keys out, old man.”
“Old man? I’m not even two full months older than you. Grow up, Potter.”
“That was a pretty weak retort. I’m a bit disappointed, honestly,” Harry said, arms crossed.
Well, if Harry Potter wanted a fight, Draco sure didn’t want to disappoint him. Worldlessly, Draco clicked his car key and climbed into the driver’s seat. Harry quickly scrambled into the passenger side.
“Just you wait, Potter. I’m going to show you real driving. Do try not to shit yourself,” Draco said, with a rev of the engine.