Rivalries

Scorpius Malfoy hadn't been raised like his father.

After the war and the fall of Voldemort, Draco's parents changed. He wasn't sure exactly how or why, but his parents would do things for him that weren't just buying him off. One day, his mother made dinner for him by herself.

Secretly, he'd prefer that the house elves cook, but he'd never tell her that.

It wasn't that Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy were, by any stretch of the imagination, good people at heart, but they were trying. His father hadn't thrown away his hidden collections of Dark artifacts and books, but he had stopped to give Draco a hug on more than one occasion.

Usually those occasions were some of the most awkward moments in his entire life. Just the thought of his father hugging anyone for any reason other than to put up a social appearance was laughable.

Draco always wondered what exactly brought that on, and he never understood until Scorpius turned five. One day, his son had nearly gotten himself killed by a muggle car when he ran out of the Leaky Cauldron

Now he understood.

His parents had nearly lost him, and they were grateful their family was alive, whole. Ever since that day, Draco vowed to raise his son differently, going to great lengths to try to disguise his prejudices. When Scorpius had asked him about the war and Harry Potter, he never once mentioned the fact that he might have preferred it if Harry had died in the battle. When it was time for a meal, Draco made a point to thank the elves.

So when Scorpius wrote home from Hogwarts for the first time, Draco managed to remain calm with the news that his son had been Sorted into Gryffindor. He'd raised him not to be a typical Slytherin, and it should not surprise him that his son was in Gryffindor.

After all, he'd never even told him about his contempt for Gryffindors. How could Scorpius know that he wouldn't be proud of him no matter where he went? Draco could deal with it; he'd just have to get used to saying Gryffindor.

The next time Scorpius wrote home, he'd nearly exploded and wasn't sure if the explosion was metaphorical or not.

Scorpius Malfoy had found a best friend at Hogwarts.

Albus Severus Potter.

Draco only found solace in this fact because he knew that his old nemesis was likely seething at the news as much as he was.

At least it wasn't a Weasley; if Albus had been a Weasley, Draco wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep himself from ruining his careful work. Of course, it wasn't like a half-Weasley that looked remarkably like Harry Potter was much better.

In Scorpius's third year, Draco was impatiently awaiting news of the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts. He'd come to accept that Scorpius had found friendship with a Potter, but that didn't mean he wasn't hoping that his son could overpower a Potter on the Quidditch field.

He jumped out of his chair in glee when the Scorpius's owl showed up the next day over morning tea. His son was now the Seeker of the Gryffindor House team.

He quickly sat down again as he remembered that Gryffindor was involved. Somehow, it was almost easier to accept his son as a friend of a Potter, than as a Gryffindor. Draco would have to wear red and gold to the Quidditch matches and sit in the Gryffindor family section.

He wasn't even sure he owned anything red. Maybe it was possible he was allergic to red.

Draco quickly read the rest of the letter. Potter's child had been made Chaser. He couldn't wait until the day the two of them were at a Quidditch match at the same time; the day he could gloat over his son being chosen for Seeker over Potter's. Harry Potter, the great Seeker, didn't even teach his own son to play his position.

It wasn't until fifth year that Harry and Draco managed to attend a Quidditch match at the same time. Draco hadn't said a word to Potter or his wife, mostly because he'd realized exactly why Albus was a Chaser. Alongside his brother, James, the two alone were nearly an unbeatable team. They hardly needed the third Chaser, a girl of Weasley origin, who appeared relatively bored.

Draco was pretty sure Potter hadn't said a word because he was too damn proud. Typical Gryffindor.

Harry and Draco both watched as their sons won the match for Gryffindor by nearly three hundred points. They watched together as their sons descended onto the field, embracing in the excitement of a match well played. They even clapped together.

"Scorpius played a good game," Harry said, turning towards Draco.

"So did Albus." Draco extended his hand for a firm, quick handshake before they turned away from each other.

Maybe there was hope for the two of them to suffer through Scorpius's seventeenth birthday party next year, after all.