#don't judge my writing on my banner-making skills please x)

[dontthrowsticksatme]

Life at Victoria Road five

Pairing: Drarry

Rating: T

Word count: 64k

Summary:

With nowhere else to go, a washed-up Harry Potter crashes on Draco Malfoy’s couch, disrupting the domestic life at this fresh dad’s two-bedroom, Muggle walk-up. From his spot on the couch, Harry watches Draco navigate the wonders of fatherhood. Draco, meanwhile, struggles to understand his urge to take care of his former enemy (it must be the paternal instinct).

(Note: this is not an addiction recovery fic. There is an addiction recovery side plot, but I don't know enough to do it justice.)

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Excerpt under the cut :)

Excerpt (960 words):

As Malfoy had promised, the three of them went shopping after breakfast. Scorpius got tucked into Malfoy’s vintage, baby blue pram, and Harry had to shiver in his ragged denim jacket, hunched in the autumn chill, feeling fragile. His head and his muscles still hurt. These days, his head and his muscles always hurt. He squinted against the bright, October sunshine.

Malfoy was whistling to keep the baby entertained. It was a mystery how he'd survived each time they went out, as he only had eyes for the kid instead of their surroundings. It seemed like he intuitively sensed traffic lights and stopped for them without looking. It wasn’t possible, but Harry couldn’t see Malfoy looking up at any point.

‘Potter is an ugly fart,’ Malfoy sang softly to the kid. ‘He makes rock bottom look like art. Remember not to break his heart, or he will surely fall apart. That’s why we all sing: Potter’s an ugly fart.’

‘That makes no sense,’ Harry pointed out, pressing the button for the traffic lights a few more times.

‘Potter looks like he’s in pain,’ Malfoy sang on. ‘That’s because he is insane. Better put him on a train, or on a chain, or he will make us all feel pain.’

Harry sighed.

Malfoy sniggered. ‘You used to get angry.’ He draped himself over the pram to leer at Harry. ‘When I insulted you.’ He seemed entirely comfortable in his tight, woollen jacket, buttoned up over a thin, baby blue sweater that was clearly carefully selected to complement his skin tone and eyes, perhaps even the pram.

‘Yeah…’

Malfoy smirked. Looking around at the blue sky and the orange tops of the trees, he simpered, ‘You missed me, didn’t you?’

The traffic lights turned green, so they walked. ‘Madly,’ grumbled Harry, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and kicking at a flattened coke can.

Malfoy laughed.

When they reached the other side of the road, Malfoy pushed the pram ahead of them. They strolled over to it and he pushed it again. ‘Such a bore, this pram... Imagine if it could fly. If Scorpius could fly around us at his own pace and look at everything around him, not just the stupid sky. Hello, baby!’ Malfoy had reached the pram again and bent over the side to press a kiss at Scorpius’ head. ‘Oh, aren’t you an ugly little fellow! You can’t do shit, can you? No! You can’t!’ Malfoy laughed and wearily pulled the pram behind him as if he were the teenager cleaning up the shopping carts at the local supermarket.

Harry decided to take over the pushing of the pram.

Malfoy immediately took his cue to walk ahead of them, straight-backed like a parade leader. ‘Potter shouldn’t be outside,’ he started chanting again. ‘The last time, all the babies cried. They cried and cried till past Yuletide.’ Malfoy jumped up to break off a branch of a tree and swung it around like it was a baton. ‘Tell the people far and wide, that Potter is out and ready to fight.’ At that last word, he unexpectedly lashed out at Harry with the stick. At least, he tried to, but Harry caught the stick and yanked it out of Malfoy’s hands, and Malfoy promptly covered his head, screaming.

It made Harry laugh.

Malfoy hipped over to Harry and grabbed the stick from him. Harry allowed it.

‘Have you breathed in properly, Potter?’ Malfoy demonstrated breathing deeply in and out a few times. ‘How nice it is – Oh Merlin!’ He froze in front of a shop window, voice high in panic.

‘What?’ Harry whirled around, flicking out his wand. ‘What?’

‘My hair is such a mess.’ As he checked himself in the reflection of the shop window, Malfoy pulled at strands of his white blonde hair, which had indeed grown to be quite long; Harry kept seeing him pushing and blowing it away from his face.

With a sigh, Malfoy resumed walking. Harry had trouble shifting gears and had only just come to a halt with the pram, but Malfoy didn’t care.

‘I really need a haircut, you know, but the last time I tried, that menace over there wouldn’t stop crying. I had to just go home after they had only just washed it. It was awful.’ He slowed down so he could tickle Scorpius’ belly. ‘Yes, I’m talking about you, you little loudmouth. You’re the reason daddy looks like Lady Diana, aren’t you?’

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at this. ‘That’s an awful thing to say! Princess Di was beautiful.’

Malfoy made an indignant sound as he straightened up to scowl at him, and sniffily took the pram back. Harry sniggered.

They passed a fruit and vegetable store that had most of the pavement covered in crates of fruit. On the corner, a small, green shop sold cigars; Harry didn’t even know that was still a thing. On the other side of the road, an all pink hairdresser – pink awning, pink sign, pink frames – had faded to blue-and-white pictures of hair models up in the windows. Nobody in the street seemed to be in a hurry. A few guys were sitting in plastic lawn chairs, watching the passersby, and further down the road two women were chatting on the corner of a street, one of them with a dog.

Harry liked it. The regularity of it all.

It had been a long time since he’d been shopping, sober and clean. Or that he'd been out and about before noon.

The morning sun worked hard to shine through the overcast sky. On the beech trees around them, the green-and-yellow leaves rustled in the breeze. The smell of autumn daybreak hung in the air and Harry felt like he was skipping school.