Title: All Sorted Out?
Summary: Scorpius has been Sorted, and Draco is suitably stunned by the results. Astoria, of course, is amused by all.
…Draco later married Astoria Greengrass, the younger sister of Daphne Greengrass, and had a child, the ridiculously-named Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy (DHep, A Year in the Life.) Although he and Harry never became friends, there was a "kind of rapprochement" between the two (Bloomsbury Chat)… Harry Potter Encyclopaedia.
I know it's an asumed fact that Astoria is in Slytherin, and that Scorpius would probably follow in his parents' footsteps. This, therefore is slightly AU - but, you never know, this situation may very well have come up. I always imagined Astoria as someone who can keep Draco on his toes, but also in line - I haven't written HP fanfic for over two years, so please be kind!
Draco Malfoy was…sulking.
There was no way he was going to admit it, especially in front of his wife, who was pouring over copies of legislation for Hippogriffs – a nasty shudder went down his spine – but that's what he was, sulking. And it had everything to do with the trio sitting in the opposite corner of the Leaky Cauldron, and everything to do with the woman currently ordering drinks at the bar.
He was also, truth be known, trying to surreptitiously slide down further beneath the table. Only subtly, just to avoid detection from the three laughing men and women, but nevertheless, he was beginning to feel a lot smaller than he was.
"What are you doing?"
He managed an uncertain grin as Astoria glanced at him over the top of a roll of parchment, one eyebrow arched dryly. Feeling an intense reminder of Professor McGonagall, Draco promptly wrinkled up his nose in disgust. You couldn't have your wife reminding you of the deputy headmistress, that was just sick…
"Nothing," he tried to remark casually. As another laugh rung out from the opposite corner of the pub, Draco tried to slide down further in his chair, only to slip off it altogether, his jaw colliding with a smack on the table top.
Astoria merely smirked. "If you've broken your chin, I have no sympathy for you."
He had such a kind, caring wife.
"Thanks." Draco grumbled, pulling himself back on the chair and rubbing his throbbing chin irritably. "Very kind of you, 'Toria. I'll remember that the next time you come off your Nimbus again. And this time I'll bring Scorpius out so he can point and laugh."
She merely glowered at him, a lock of hair twisting around her finger before finding its way into her mouth. "You do think he's alright, don't you?" Teeth dug anxiously into her lower lip. "I've sent him two owls already, and he hasn't replied yet – not even to tell us which House he's in! That's not natural; you'd think he'd be excited."
"Don't fuss." He tried to sound less worried than he was – not that he was worried. He was just…concerned. Yeah, that was it. And eager to know that Scorp hadn't been shown up in flying class by some skinny, flashy little show-off…
…Oh yeah. He'd digressed a little into the past there.
Still, he was only concerned. Nothing near as bad as his wife.
"He'll be fine." Draco stated firmly. "Honestly, the kid'll just be having the time of his life, exploring Hogwarts, probably already getting up into the Astronomy Tower…"
"Draco, he's eleven."
"So?" He shrugged lackadaisically. "He'll already be getting attention; he's a handsome boy." Checking that Astoria's good mood had managed to return, he stretched his arms behind his head, a smug grin appearing on his mouth. "He's like his dad, isn't he?"
Astoria merely snickered. "You mean he'll have to hex women into going out with him?"
"Hey, that was one time, and I didn't hex you, I only – oh damn."
Blinking with surprise, Astoria frowned for a second until she followed her husband's steely grey and utterly panicked stare over to the bar, where the object of terror was currently swaying on her high heels as she tottered over, clutching a round of drinks.
It was a mark of how strong their marriage was that Astoria didn't smirk. Or at least, tried not to smirk. "Oh, that." She murmured dryly, lips twitching with mirth. "You know, you could at least try and get along with my sister."
"You don't exactly get on with my mother."
Her eyes rolled. "Yeah, Draco, because Daphne putting a Trip Jinx on you in your fifth year is putting her up there with being a servant of the Dark Lord."
Draco wasn't so sure. Daphne Greengrass had been pure evil during their time together at Hogwarts. It wasn't even as if she'd been a Gryffindor, or anything like that, she'd been a sodding Slytherin, for crying out loud – just a Slytherin that thought his head was too big to fit through doorways.
And he'd ended up marrying the one who'd shocked the entire family by entering into Ravenclaw – not that she wasn't as damn sneaky as any Slytherin - instead. It was a strange world.
"I get along fine with Daphne." He said, in as light-hearted tone as he could possibly muster. "The last Christmas we spent together was…fine."
"Draco, you asked her how many notches on the bedpost she had recently."
He couldn't help but snicker. That had been funny…well, until Daphne had upturned the contents of the entire soup tureen she'd currently been holding into his lap. Good luck for him they'd already had Scorpius – that soup had been boiling. "She called me Ferret Boy."
This time it was Astoria's turn to snicker, earning a black glare from her husband. He knew it…he knew she'd watched the entire Moody escapade in his fourth year. Bugger. Inwardly fuming, he started as one slender hand came down beneath the table to encircle around his. "Just…try and be nice," his wife advised him dryly. "I know that's difficult for a Malfoy on principle – "
" – but if I can manage sitting through eight of your mother's lovely 'society meetings', you can sit through one drink with my sister."
Draco could appreciate that. His mother's friends were terrifying.
"Here we are." Bestowing a shining smile on her sister and completely ignoring him – thanks Daphne – Daphne Greengrass sat down with a bump on the chair next to her, passing out the Butterbeers and swigging down the double Firewhisky she'd brought for herself. Draco opened his mouth to say something, caught Astoria's eye, and shut it again. "Ooh, Astoria, guess which thriving Diagon Alley nightspot is closing its doors?" His sister-in-law gasped, hot on the trail for gossip.
Draco arched an eyebrow. "You're moving?"
Astoria ducked her head beneath the table to stop her sister from seeing her laughing. Daphne shot him a withering glare.
"Never mind…." The older woman growled through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing tightly. Draco was pretty sure he could see smoke escaping from her ears as her younger sister resurfaced from beneath the table, still shaking with giggles. "You'll never guess what happened in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, 'Tor – Ooooooh!"
As he saw where her eyes were turned, the brief, fleeting moment of triumph abruptly passed from him. Bugger. This was the other thing he'd been fearing…
"Yoo-hoo! Hermione! Over here, darling!" One hand waved madly at opposite corner of the pub as a broad grin spread over Daphne's face – he was sure that there was a malicious spark in her eye as she glanced briefly to him. "How are you?"
And that was why Draco didn't like Daphne. Astoria was quite content to allow the Golden Trio sit by themselves without drawing attention, if it meant she didn't have to put up with her husband's grumbling. Daphne on the other hand…He didn't even know how Daphne had gotten to know Granger…well, technically she was a Weasley now. She was a Gryffindor, after all. Astoria had said that working for several years together in somewhere as boring as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement created ties that could not be severed by mere inner-house rivalries…particularly when you were the only ones under fifty, but still…Gritting his teeth, he slumped back down so his nose was nearly level with the glasses on the table. He didn't see how a former Slytherin could get so friendly with a former Gryffindor just over a shared love for law books.
"Hello, Daphne." The woman murmured meekly, extending a hand to shake Daphne's gently. It was weird seeing Granger…Weasley…not being buried under a pile of books, Draco realised with surprise. Oh well…no doubt she was busy creating the largest magical library outside of Hogwarts in her spare time…
"You know my sister, Astoria, of course?" Daphne rolled out the relevant information as his wife extended a hand to shake Hermione Weasley's cheerfully. "And I'm sure you know Astoria's husband Draco?"
Honestly, if the woman wasn't his wife's sister he'd have gleefully poisoned her a long time ago.
"Of course." Smiling broadly to Astoria – just because his wife was a Ravenclaw, honestly, she was just as scary as a Slytherin – Granger turned and managed a tentative nod towards him. "Draco."
"Granger." Draco muttered grudgingly. Astoria glared at him.
What? He wasn't calling her a Mudblood, was he?
In sharp contrast to her sister's warning glower, Daphne's smile was stretching till it was close to touching both her ears. Watching for a moment as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a look of utter, malicious relish passed over her face as she turned back to Granger. "Here with the family?" Glancing back to where Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting, she waved a hand brightly – for God's sake, the woman was worse than Rita Skeeter - before turning around again and declaring, with a monumental flourish. "Fancy all sitting together? Having a gossip about the good old days?"
Draco's mouth dropped open. Apparently Daphne was more evil than he'd thought.
His wasn't the only jaw that had nearly hit the table. Hermione Weasley was gaping at his sister-in-law as if she'd never seen anything more alarming. For possibly the first time in his life, Draco found himself empathizing. "I'm sorry?" She repeated. "You – you want us to sit – here? With you?"
"Why not? I'm sure we're all friends now – everything's over and done with." Daphne flashed a ridiculously fake smile at the three, who were gaping at her as if she'd lost her mind.
The witch promptly turned to look pointedly at him.
Draco spread his hands helplessly. "Don't look at me. She's your friend."
Which really should have given Granger just a bit more feeling of responsibility for the situation; but no. After a few moments of gawping silently, she inclined her head, and turned on her heel back to the opposite end of the pub. If he craned his head, he could just see Potter and Weasley's expressions sliding into ones of identical horror. Well, at least he wasn't the only one who'd be suffering.
It wasn't much of a comfort.
"Five seconds." Draco growled beneath his breath, eyeing Daphne with blatant disgust. "Five seconds, and I'm going straight into Knockturn Alley to find the first cursed item I can, so I can…"
"Don't." Astoria murmured. "You heard her, she just wants to talk about…the good old days." Even she sounded unconvinced.
"What good old days? When Granger slapped me round the face? When Weasley's trip jinx sent me head-first into a suit of armour? Oh no, I've got it – when Potter's band of lackey's managed to turn me into a giant slug?"
It seemed to be only by a supreme strength of will that Astoria didn't burst out laughing then and there. "Just…be nice, alright? You see Harry Potter in the Ministry now and then, you don't end up having duels, do you?"
Grudgingly, he had to admit that that was true. Since they'd left school – well, there didn't seem to be any point to their impressive seven-year long feud anymore, not when there was nothing to drive it. There was absolutely no way he'd ever be friends with Potter, no way at all, but…it had gotten to the point when they'd managed to have a near-as-made-no-difference civil conversation in the Ministry at one point; and he hadn't even had to curse someone to vent his irritation afterwards. Managing a small shrug that passed for acquiescence, he shot a flat smile at Astoria – who would, no doubt, be keeping tabs on him all through the conversation.
It wasn't that he'd changed for his wife, it was just that being civil to people was easier than, say, having a Tongue-Tangling Curse aimed at him. Or ending up getting boils in…uncomfortable places.
Apparently Astoria had been pretty enamoured with the two Weasley twins in the three years they'd been in Hogwarts together. Thinking back, this explained quite a lot about his wife.
As Draco fumed, wondering – not for the first time – what a nice, quiet, calm, and above all peaceful life he'd have had if his parents hadn't given in so quickly about his marriage and forced him into marrying Pansy Parkinson, three oh-so familiar figures appeared on the opposite edge of the table; Granger apprehensive, Potter wary, and Weasley strangely gleeful. Apparently the little weasel was quite willing to go along with this rotten debacle if it meant seeing him squirm.
Yeah, well, screw you too, Draco thought icily as Weasley paused briefly to shoot him a glower. Beneath the table Astoria kicked his ankle gently.
"Budge up!" Daphne cried exuberantly, looking just a little too pleased with herself as she moved her chair to allow Potter to sit next to her. He could have hexed her. "That's it, now you sit there Hermione – now, we'll all be as cosy as anything! Isn't that nice, brother?" One well-manicured hand patted Draco's cheek sweetly.
Alright, so he'd get a life sentence in Azkaban, but seriously, performing the Killing Curse in his sister-in-law couldn't be too bad could it? Harry Potter had gotten away with it, hadn't he? And there was little difference between the Dark Lord and the Mistress of Darkness…
"…So." Granger began nervously. Beside her, her husband's fingers were twitching as if itching to wrap them around his wand. "How's…how's Scorpius doing at Hogwarts? What House is he in?"
"As if we couldn't guess." Weasley intoned under his breath. There was a clunk beneath the table, and a muffled curse.
His wife's expression immediately dropped again, her eyes lowering to the table as she pushed her tankard across the wooden surface. Draco suddenly have the incontrovertible urge to jinx Granger – which he would have done if it wasn't for the fact that even he knew she had no idea what was going on.
Perhaps because his desire to hex Granger into next Tuesday and back was practically visible, Astoria immediately glanced up again, pasting a fake smile back on. "He hasn't written yet." She said, eyeing him as if warning not to try any Unforgiveables on any of the trio. "You know boys, he's probably forgotten all about even picking up a quill…"
Weasley opened and then closed his mouth again. Evidently the urge to gloat all about his precious daughter getting 200 in her first piece of homework could be quelled merely by a death glower from his wife.
Apparently they had a lot more in common than he'd first realised.
At least Potter was keeping quiet, Draco thought with a furious surge of relief as the Auror sipped at his drink, skilfully fielding questions from Daphne. If he'd had to listen to tales of how wonderful Albus Potter was…And that bloody Daphne had engineered it all…
Briskly cut off from his musings of how no-one would really be any the wiser if he fed his sister-in-law to a Manticore – he'd be doing the wizarding world a favour really – Draco managed to turn around just in time to duck from the owl that had flown in through the open window, its white wings flapping wildly. Perching up in her chair, Astoria deftly snatched the letter from its claws, frantically ripping it open. "It's a letter from Scorpius!" She cried. Potter let slip a brief laugh that he managed to disguise as a cough.
Draco glowered back at him. "This from the man who called his son Albus Serevus." Astoria had thought that was so meaningful when Granger had told her at the Ministry. Draco had just wanted to be sick.
"Yeah, but Scorpius Hyperion, Malfoy? I'm pretty sure that borders on child abuse."
He didn't say anything. There was no way in hell he was going to admit Astoria had said the same thing.
Clearing her throat to avoid the potentially dangerous situation, Hermione Weasley leant forward, her eyebrows politely raised. It still blew Draco's mind that the woman could act so polite to his wife and yet still give the impression that she and her husband dearly wanted his head on a silver platter…hadn't Astoria committed some grave sin against nature by marrying him? It couldn't just be because they liked Astoria…he knew his wife wasn't that nice… "Well, how is he?"
Yeah, like you care, Granger, Draco thought sullenly, irritation mingling with genuine impatience to read Scorp's letter. First sodding letter his son sent from Hogwarts, and the Golden Trio had to be there to read it. Bloody figured. You just want to act all mature in front of the rest of us… Folding his arms, he tried to lean over his wife's shoulder, and received an elbow in the stomach. "Hey; he's my son too!"
"You'll get your turn." Astoria murmured vaguely, her eyes devouring the words as if they might slip off the parchment at a moment's notice. Cowed into submission, Draco sat back in his seat and joined the rest of them (even Weasley and Potter were keeping their traps shut) in watching his wife as her eyes travelled down to the bottom of the parchment…and then promptly burst into peals of laughter.
Not just faint giggles either. The kind of stomach-cramping, tear-inducing, roll-around-on-the-floor laughter that one only used in situations of extreme emergency. Draco's mouth dropped open. He'd never seen his wife laugh so hard – apart from the first time he'd asked her out, of course.
Beside him, Potter, Granger and Weasley exchanged doubtful, alarmed looks, quite clearly wondering whether it was time to book his wife into St. Mungos. For once, Draco felt inclined to agree.
"Well?" Daphne frowned at her sister, shoving her brusquely in a vague attempt to silence her. "How's my nephew?"
Wordlessly, Astoria handed the parchment over, still giggling weakly. He was starting to feel alarmed that she was shooting him the most gleeful looks he'd ever seen.
"Seriously, 'Tor." He began slowly, ignoring Daphne murmuring the words beneath her breath. "What's hap – "
Gritting his teeth in utter infuriation, Draco turned back to where Daphne was now holding the parchment in two shaking hands, lips pressed tightly together and her body shaking like a cauldron about to boil. Alright…this really had to stop…
"Alright, wha – "
"Good grief," Daphne spluttered weakly, wiping at her eyes. "Not that I approve – I mean, I would much rather, for my nephew – but you – " here she directed a pointed glare at Draco, who widened his eyes bewilderedly. "And – oh, I can't wait to see his grandparents' faces!"
Draco glowered at the two giggling females. "Will someone tell me what's going on?"
Finally, Astoria cleared her throat, biting at her lip to prevent any more laughter to escape from her mouth. "Alright." She forced out. "You – you remember saying he'd make the best sneeker Slytherin ever had?"
Behind him, he distinctly heard Potter mutter 'not that that would be difficult'. He scowled.
"You may have to rethink that."
Draco tensed up, automatically fingering his wand. He knew something would go wrong…and Scorp had been looking forward to flying lessons since he was eight…. "He's fallen off his broom already, hasn't he?" He muttered.
"No." His wife grinned. "Just that you'd better get used to supporting Gryffindor for a change."
For a split-second, his brain tried to blank the comment. When it finally absorbed it, his jaw fell open for the second time.
"He – He's in Gryffindor?!"
Astoria nodded gleefully.
Grey eyes nearly popping out of his skull, Draco opened, shut, and then opened his mouth again as he tried – in vain – to stop from feeling as though the world had just disappeared from beneath his feet. He – Scorpius – Gryffindor – something had to be wrong there, didn't it? Because – well, it was Scorp. He was a Malfoy, wasn't he? And Malfoys all went into Slytherin, everyone knew that…With the distinct feeling that someone had slapped him around the face with a wet kipper, he blinked vaguely, only just aware that Granger and Potter were both extending their congratulations to Astoria, though only just managing to keep their faces straight.
Weasely, however, was managing no such great feat. "Gryffindor?" He snorted, pounding the table with his fist. "That's bloody rich – gotta be the first Slytherin in centuries to – hey, wait a moment!" A thought had obviously crossed his mind, as he sat up to glare at Draco. "That means your son is in the same House as my daughter!"
"Oh, Ron." Granger tsked from across the table. "I'm sure that won't make any difference."
"Yeah." Astoria smiled brightly, before shooting a cheeky grin at Draco. "After all, it may interest you to know that my son is not as much of a spoiled, arrogant, bullying prat as my husband was."
"Thanks, dear." Draco managed to mutter sarcastically.
Astoria blew him a kiss cheerfully.
Rising to his feet, Potter directed a grin in Astoria's direction, prompting Draco to unconsciously curl his fingers around his wand beneath the table. "Well, maybe it's a good omen." He smirked, before nodding brusquely to Draco. "I'll tell Albus to keep an eye on him; he's in Gryffindor too."
"I don't want your bloody son – " Draco began to growl, before catching Astoria's glare. Weasley and Granger were distracted saying their goodbyes to Daphne, but Potter was watching him with a wary expression on his face. Grudgingly, he sighed, releasing his wand to grasp his wife's hand tightly. "I…thanks, Potter."
The man nodded, slipping an arm around Weasley's shoulders as they headed to the door. Daphne followed suit, kissing her sister briefly on the cheek before slipping out the door after them – leaving Astoria and Draco mulling over their respective Butterbeers. Draco was still gaping. "Gryffindor." He muttered. "I can' believe it."
"Oh, calm down." She rolled her eyes. "It's not like he's decided to be a practitioner of the Dark Arts – oh no, wait a moment, you'd like that."
Draco made a face at her. "Very funny. Daphne's right, though, my parents are never going to like this. I mean, they're still mad at me marrying you, but – Malfoys have been in Slytherin for centuries!"
"That's because you never had our sensible Greengrass blood to balance out all the pure, downright evil. " Astoria scoffed, shaking her head. After a moment, her arm slipped around his waist, large eyes focussed on him. "You're not angry with him, are you Draco? He's still your son. He is a brave boy, and there's no denying it."
Caught off-guard, he turned, about to issue the standard response; when his brain caught up with him and he thought for a moment. True, he was stunned – bloody shocked, even – but Scorp was still – he was still his son. He was still Scorpius – enthusiastic, maddening, and a holy terror when he got his hands on jinx books – and he was still going to be the same. "No, I'm not angry. He's not a bad kid." A grin flashed over his face. "'Sides, he might have a chance to push that Albus Potter off his broom…"
"I'm joking!" Ducking the slap that was directed at him, his grin became a smirk. "I just hope he knows that everyone prefers Slytherin boys in the end."
Astoria shot him a deadpan look. "Yes, because you were such a witch magnet at school."
"I did alright!"
"Pansy Parkinson is alright?"
"Well, alright, I admit, not her so much – still, you're missing the point – which is for one thing, my parents are going to ritualistically slaughter me if at least one of my kids don't end up in Slytherin…"
"Scorp doesn't have any brothers or sisters."
"He doesn't yet…"
Cookies if you managed to get through all that...