Honestly, Harry hadn't been aware that there was Wizarding preschool. He had just assumed that Hogwarts was the beginning of magical education. Looking back on it, it seemed rather stupid to think that education would begin at eleven, but knowing the other stupidities of the Wizarding world, it wouldn't have surprised him.

Knowing about the preschools, Harry had only one thing to say: Thank. Fucking. Merlin.

Harry loved his children with all his heart, he would die for them. But that didn't mean that Harry's sanity could only take so much of his three children. Those precious hours in which the children were at their pre-Hogwarts classes were sweet relief for Harry.

Sometimes he was able to catch up on his paperwork for Kingsley. Sometimes he could get a stress free flight on his broom (with maybe a few lazy tricks for kicks). Sometimes he could take an hour or two for casual reading or a nap.

Sometimes that nap led him to be an hour late in picking up his children.

"Morgana's saggy tit…"

Harry nearly fell flat on his face tumbling out of the school's Floo fireplace. No doubt he'd be getting a lecture from the school's matron if she saw him (which Harry hoped he could avoid). He only hoped the children would be forgiving in his tardiness.

If not, he could probably earn their forgiveness by taking them out to dinner.

Harry had honestly expected his children to be the only ones still left on the school's small play ground, with him being the last parent to arrive.

Seeing another parent sitting on one of the playground benches hadn't been expected.

Seeing that parent as a very familiar blond was nothing short of astonishing.

"Funny seeing you here, Malfoy." Harry murmured, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he approached the bench.

The blond turned his attention from the playground to look at Harry, "Ah, I should have known you'd be the reason I couldn't leave, Potter." He took a sip from what Harry assumed was a juice box, "I should have recognized those black mops from anywhere."

"Are you volunteering as yard duty?" Harry raised his eyebrow.

A very Malfoy scowl crossed Draco's face, "As if I'd be caught dead in those gaudy orange robes. No, Scorpius wouldn't let me leave while he could still play with his friends." He pointed back toward the playground.

Harry turned his gaze back towards his children. James was at the top of play structure (which may or may not have been a model of Hogwarts), hanging upside down from the castle walls. Lily was currently astride a play broom, cruising at a comfortable speed as her toes nearly touched the ground. Albus was at her side, making sure she didn't fall off. But there was a small blond boy at Lily's other side, hand on her shoulder and helping her position her hands.

"I'm actually surprised," Malfoy continued, "Scorpius hasn't let anyone, not even the house elves, touch his broom, let alone ride it."

"That doesn't surprise me…" Harry murmured, sitting down on the bench next to the former Slytherin, "…You named your son Scorpius?"

"It's a family name." Draco nodded, "It's tradition."

"What is it with wizarding people and family names?"

"This coming from the man who named two of his children after his parents?"

"…Fair enough." Harry chuckled, running a hand through his hair, "So how old is Scorpion?"

"Scorpius. And he's six." Draco nodded, taking another drink of his juice box "Five more years until Hogwarts…five long years."

Harry smiled, "He's the same age as Al then. Luckily James only has three more years until Hogwarts, but I'll still have the other two."

Draco scoffed, reaching into his bag and pulling out another juice box, "You need this more than me."

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion, "Uh, thanks?"

"It's spiked."

"Oh." Harry accepted the "juice box" readily, punching the straw into the opening before drinking deeply.

"The teachers frown down on alcohol use, so I have to smuggle it in." The blond snorted, "Then again, the teachers frown down on me in general most days."

Neither of them had to go into detail about the stigma attached to the Malfoy name.

"I'm on the flip side, they all can be such obnoxious kiss-asses." Harry shook his head, taking another sip, "What is this stuff? Firewhiskey?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Believe it or not, Potter, there are more liquors than Firewhiskey. You should refine your pallet."

"I have three children under ten, the most refined my pallet gets is when I can make broomstick pancakes."

"Lucky, I still haven't managed to get that right."

The two fathers paused, looking at each other and laughing at the idea of them fussing over fancy pancakes.

Draco managed to crack a smile, "I take it Weaslette doesn't do much cooking."

"She didn't while we were married, no."

"Oh." The other man had the decency to look sheepish.

"Don't even think of apologizing. Ginny and I didn't publicize our divorce, we wanted it to be quick and quiet." Harry shrugged, "We really shouldn't have gotten married in the first place, but hey, it was good while it was lasted." He took another drink of liquor, "So how are you and..Aster?"

"Astoria." Draco shook his head, "She's been dead for six years."

"Oh."

The blond gave Harry a wry smile, "Don't even think of apologizing." He sighed, "We'd been desperately trying for a child, and she took all sort of potions to boost her fertility rate…it wasn't until after that I learned that she wasn't supposed to have children. "Small hips" they said, "Too small for childbearing." But Astoria had been so determined…"

Harry nodded, holding out his juicebox, "To hapless single fathers."

"Speak for yourself Potter." Draco smirked, "To fabulous single fathers."

The two tapped the juice boxes in toast, sharing a smile between them.

"So how long before we can start arranging play dates?"