"Yes, yes, Scorpius. I heard the damnable doorknocker, who in the County didn't?" From the sound of his voice, Malfoy was coming to the door. "Another bloody thing I'm going to change..." he muttered to himself. He appeared in the door, saw Harry, and his face closed in.

  Harry decided, what with Scorpius present, he would keep things as formal as possible. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. I am Harry Potter, with the Auror Division of the Ministry of Magic. You filed a report with us, describing an unusual series of events. I was hoping to speak with you about it, in connection with an ongoing case that seems similar."

  Draco's expression softened minisculely. He glanced down at Scorpius, who was regarding Harry in a mildly curious way. Draco met Harry's eyes, and gave a small nod.

  Harry went on, "If the timing of my visit is inconvenient in any way, I would be glad to schedule an appointment at a time and place of your choosing."

  Harry wasn't sure why he was offering Draco an out. He just didn't want to put a father in an awkward position in front of his son. Besides, Harry had taken a liking to the oddly solemn little boy. He was like Albus in more than just size.

  Draco's tension had been easing all through Harry's speech. By the time it was done, he seemed perfectly at ease.

  "No, no, Mr... Potter, you said?" (Harry could have sworn Draco grinned a little behind the mask of his face).

  Draco said, "Now is fine. In fact, now is better than fine. I'm glad someone showed up, I..." he hesitated. "Well, I wasn't sure anyone would. This nonsense has been upsetting my family... well, bother. It's been upsetting my wife, at any rate." He tousled his son's hair with obvious fondness. "I don't think much of anything upsets Scorpius, here."

  The boy smiled, wider than Harry had seen to date. It was still a very subtle expression. "Oh, I do get upset, Father. Especially when someone musses my very carefully combed hair, that I spent so long on. If Mother asks, I'll have to blame it on you."

  The boy's hair was no more mussed than when he had met Harry at the door. He sensed a family in-joke. The affection between the pair was obvious.

  Scorpius spoke up again. "Father if you will excuse me? I'm going to check in on Mother..." Draco raised a finger. "...no, if she's sleeping I won't disturb her!" Scorpius rolled his eyes. It was the most child-like behavior Harry had yet seen.

  "I also have to check on Cook. You know how she feels about visitors." Scorpius looked up at Harry. "It's nothing against you, sir. Cook just has..., what did you call them, Father?"

  "Quirks," Draco said. He looked for a moment as if he wanted to roll his eyes. "But they are worth putting up with. Tell her nothing is wrong, everything is fine, she is an absolute treasure, and I would take it as a personal favor if she would make some of those tiny ham salad sandwiches that your Mother loves so. Her appetite needs tempting."

  Scorpius had nodded along solemnly during this litany. He then turned to Harry. "Goodbye, Mr. Potter."

  Harry reached down and shook the small, pale hand. "Goodbye, Scorpius. It was truly a pleasure to meet you, and I hope our paths cross again sometime."

  At that, Scorpius went in to the hall. He turned back to close the doors, but his father had forestalled him. The last expression Harry saw was a narrowing of the boy's eyes at his father, as if Draco had usurped some prerogative of his.

  Draco turned away from the doors. Seeing that Harry had noted the byplay, Draco shrugged. "He doesn't like being reminded that he is small."

  "I have a son that is the same way, In fact, young Scorpius reminds me of him, quite a bit."

  Draco darted a quick look, to see if Harry was, perhaps, being a bit sarcastic. Whatever he sought, he must have found it, for he relaxed again.

  "He is a good child, at that. I wish he would act like a child sometimes, but that is neither here nor there."

  "Well, I like him," Harry said frankly. "He is well-spoken, polite and friendly, but there's something in there. You know, I think he was having me on a couple of times, there."

  Draco was showing Harry to a small conversational grouping, comfortable-looking chairs around a small card table. It was sited in front of a fireplace, which was merrily burning with flames that somehow gave off no heat.

  "Eh? How's that?" Draco asked. He took the seat next to Harry. Both chairs moved on their own, adjusting so that the two men were facing each other across a corner of the table.

  "Well," Harry hesitated, "Do you really call those birds, 'damnedpeacocks' all the time?"

  Draco stared blankly at Harry for a moment. He leaned forward, elbows braced on the arms of his chair. He rested his chin on his doubled fists. Harry noticed for the first time that Draco was wearing a neatly trimmed bread, just a moustache and short chin beard, the same white as the hair on his head.

  He spoke slowly, and carefully. "Did he really tell you that?" Harry nodded.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Draco's face split in a delighted grin. "That rascal! That is a running joke on my father. He loves those damned birds, but there's no room at their Townhouse in the City. So, every time he visits, we never refer to them any other way. I don't think he knows we're doing it on purpose, but..."

  Harry was grinning, too. "That's what I thought I saw in the boy. There's such a thing as too deadpan."

  'There was something else?" Draco demanded.

  '"He asked me if my proper name was short for something, I think one of his guesses was 'Haralt'? He said it was just such an odd name."

  Draco smiled and shook his head. "Not one, but two of our gardening service staff are named 'Harry.' He should know, he tags along after them every time they're here. I have to make sure he's wearing old clothes when he goes out, because he always comes back a mess." He paused, "You know, I thought the crew were just putting up with him, son of a client, you know? But once, when he was sick with something, cold or flu, they came to check on him. I answered the door to find the whole crew there, politely asking after him. When I assured them it was nothing serious, they seemed relieved. They thanked me, quite nicely, and went back to work. Later that evening there was another knock. This time I found a... I guess Muggles call them... couriers? You know, they ride about in those odd vehicles, delivering things? He had a nice little hamper, addressed to Scorpius, from the landscaping company."

  Draco's expression was odd, again, as if he was holding back an emotion or something. "Of course, I thanked the man as best I could..." (He acknowledged Harry's wry smile in passing). "...and I tipped him. I have no idea what he made of the Silver Sickle I gave him. My wife was in Scorpius' room, reading to him, when I brought the hamper in. When I explained, she almost cried. He was feeling a little better, so we let him tear into it. There was a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers, from our own garden, I dare say. And a card, signed by the entire crew. The also put in some little Muggle puzzles and games and a magazine with more puzzles. At the very bottom was a sort of meat pie thing wrapped in foil, which Scorpius said was called a 'pasty.' Last but not least, there was an odd transparent reusable bowl with soup in it. Scorpius identified it as 'chicken noodle' soup, and said it was supposed to be good for sick people."

  Draco sat back in his chair and looked at Harry. "Well, about then I became a little suspicious of the familiarity my son was exhibiting with Muggle foods. While Astoria took the food down to have Cook check it, (nice people or no), I gently pressed Scorpius on the matter."

  "He freely admitted that, sometimes, the gardeners inadvertently brought extra food, which he reluctantly helped them with." Draco snorted, something Harry could have never pictured in the old days. "The cheeky little sod actually used the phrase, 'Noblesse Oblige' on me."

  "Astoria returned with Cook's report that it was not only food, but it was very good food, made with care by someone who cared. It also carried, she said, a touch of Hearth Magic, which she, of course, refused to define or explain. She also said that if we liked the food, she could add the dishes to our menu,"

  "Astoria had brought extra bowls and utensils, so we made a little picnic of it, right there on Scorpius' bed. The pasty was huge, no idea how they expected a boy his size to eat it all, and there was plenty of soup as well."

  Draco sat, lost in thought for a moment. Harry let him think. Finally Draco sighed.

  "One of our happiest memories. It made a big difference to Astoria and me, as well. We had decided, intellectually, that we were not going to inflict that pure-blood poison onto our son. It left us isolated socially, of course, which I regretted for Scorpius, more than anything. But, once Scorpius was well, there was nothing for him but that we have a picnic for the landscapers. Astoria and I dithered over it a while, but the gesture of the hamper really touched us. And, when we broached the idea to Cook, she was all for it."

  "So, I Apparated down to Stockley, well, actually Calne, as I had never been to Stockley proper. I found Johnstone Landscaping, and spoke to the owner, Andrew. This was the first time I had met him. We had engaged their services through an intermediary, after Father and Mother turned over the estate to us. (Their people refused to work for us, for which I am eternally grateful). He was familiar with Scorpius though, from checking on his work crews, and was pleased his people had chosen to reach out to us. We arranged a date, on something he called a 'bank holiday,' and I got a rough head count of crews and families."

  "And so, we did it. We hired the tables and chairs, and a company to set them up, just as if we were the most quintessential of Muggles. I wanted to engage a string quartet, but I had no connections for such, outside the magical world. Andrew recommended someone he called a 'deejay', and assured me the man would put on a dignified show, without going all 'hippety-hoppity' on me. Or words to that effect."

  "And it went off, practically without a hitch. We had built Cook a serving hatch from the kitchen to the outside, set up so the outside door could not be opened until the inner was closed, and vice versa. The doors were cycling constantly, flooding the tables with food and drink."

  "The Johnstones, the owners, had deduced that Astoria was an invalid of sorts, whether from something I had said in passing, or Scorpius had let slip, I do not know. When they arrived in one of their work vehicles, they asked which was the main table. They then set up a beautiful little arbor at one end, shaded, and with a comfortable chair that resembled a throne. And there Astoria was ensconced, to be waited on hand and foot, Her protests were weak, and ultimately futile, especially when she saw how much I and Scorpius approved."

  "I was forced to give a little speech, which I muddled through somehow. I thanked them for their hard work through the years, for their care for my son, and my regrets that we had not done this sooner. Which, I found, I truly meant. They almost startled me out of my wits by giving me three cheers. Then Madam Johnstone, Coraline, that is, stood and asked for the crowd's attention,"

  "She had been speaking to Astoria, complimenting the food. She had asked if she could meet Cook and congratulate her on such a superlative production. Astoria had laid out Cook's, ah, problems in the most roundabout way possible. Coraline patted her hand, and told her she understood completely. She said she had family with much the same issues."

  "Then she stood after I spoke. She told the gathered assembly that Cook suffered from something called Social Anxiety Disorder, so she would not be able to join us and receive thanks personally. She then said, 'She can, however, hear us just fine, so, raise your glasses to the Cook!' And they chorused, 'The Cook' and gave her three cheers."

  "I met my wife's eyes down the length of the table, and I knew we were having the same epiphany."

  Draco broke off. He looked up and met Harry's eyes squarely. "Potter.., Harry... people are just... people. Muggle or Magic, Mud-Blood or Pure-Blood, they are just people. And I hate that it took me so long to get that." He glanced unconsciously at one forearm, where Harry expected the faded remnants of the Dark Mark to be hidden. He caught Harry looking, and smiled wryly.

  "At least my worst memory can be hidden by a long-sleeved shirt."