healing | drarry

four

good morning

i have partially given up on my other book, imperfect jigsaw, and chosen to write this for the time being

that being said

enjoy

~no pov

Kids have no filter, Harry decided.

Teddy came home, picked up by his favourite non-biological aunt and uncle (though that didn't matter to Harry - he loved his best friends like they were family.) The first thing the orphan said was, "what happened with you earlier?"

That part was understandable.

This part, where he asked, "you were totally gone, like really gone. Like when I tried to do magic and then half of my vegetables disappeared. Did you disappear? Is magic making you funny?"

Ron eventually shut Teddy up by waving a lollipop in his face and sending him off to his room. Harry, however, sat on the sofa, head in his hands, wondering if it was too late to put up the Metamorphmagus for adoption.

"Oh, leave him alone, Harry. He's just a kid; they're curious beings, you know." Hermione laughed. "He'll forget about it, kids always do."

"Mione, you're the one who's supposed to be freaking out. Has the world gone upside down, or flat, or turned into Jupiter while I was 'shut down'? Because this is not right. This," he pointed at his best friends, "is mayhem. Ron, why aren't you joking about it? Why are you being responsible- and you're not?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's called character development. My husband learned to understand when to be serious and I learned how to not stress-about-everything-and-everyone and basically give myself a bit of a break."

"That's completely unacceptable; get out of my house."

The brunette stayed put, knowing Harry didn't really mean it. 

"You alright now? I know we only left for a while but-"

"Shut up, I want laid-back Hermione back."

Ron snorted at that. "Can't make your mind up, can you, mate?"

"Oh the world's gone round again." Harry let out a breath of relief, very dramatically. "Right, well, I'm going to make myself a drink. You guys want anything?"

"Sit down."

Harry was sat.

"I'll make 'em. You need to relax."

Times like these were when Harry was grateful for his friends. Without them, well he didn't know what life would be like without them. He guessed that he'd probably be dead.

Draco's afternoon was rather different to The Boy-Who-Lived's. He apparated to the primary school, picked up his child, and came home to his desolate apartment, no friends to check up on him or make him a hot beverage. Times like these were when he missed Blaise and Pansy, and sometimes, even Crabbe and Goyle.

"And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Draco inwardly grimaced at his snobbish past-self, wondering why he used to gel his hair back so much his hairline almost ended up receding to the back of his neck. If he could go back in time, he would slap that kid in the face, dunk his hair in water, and burn every single gel factory to the ground, and then whatever gel products were left after.

"Father?"

"Yes, Scorp?"

The kid was hesitant to ask his question, but chose to regardless. He was a Malfoy after all; he'd never shy away from what he wanted. "Is- do- did you know The Boy Who Lived?"

Draco didn't expect that question, but it was better than all the other questions he'd come up with in his head. He expected war questions, questions about the mark, and worse. This was better- not good, but better.

"Er, yes, I did."

"Why 'did'? And why don't you ever hang out with wizards? You always hang out with the muggles from the other flats and the ones in the coffee shop."

Draco felt ill. "There's nothing wrong with muggles, Scorpius."

"I know." The mini Malfoy smiled. "It's just- well, people at school, they talk about hanging out with other wizards and witches, and this one boy knows Harry Potter and-"

The older Malfoy sighed, so the younger one stopped rambling. He wondered why his father seemed so off today; was it an important day or something?

"Are you alright?"

Draco smiled and nodded, but he wasn't really smiling. He was lucky that, though he was smart, Scorpius was just a kid, and didn't understand everything. Draco was good at faking emotions- he was a Slytherin after all- but sometimes his acting wasn't always top-notch. 

Trauma, am I right?

"I'm alright, Scorp." He ruffled his child's hair playfully. "Go finish that book you were reading earlier, and tell me all about it later, yeah?"

Excitedly, Scorpius ran off to do exactly that. Draco let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, glad that his kid still had some innocence. He considered sending Scorpius to school with a fake surname and hoping for the best, but that would probably put him back in Azkaban. The risk of Draco's war secrets being exposed was so easily accomplishable, which terrified him.

His son did not deserve to have his innocence ruined by finding out the damage his father caused. How Draco was to prevent that without telling Scorpius everything first, well he didn't know. 

He'd be better off without you.

Shaking his head, Draco went to the kitchen and made himself another coffee. He was tempted to switch out the caffeine for alcohol instead, but he swore he'd never drink around his son. Lucius did that in business parties, and it scared little Draco. Drunk men wandering around his home made it feel unhomely. 

So he swore he'd never do that to his kid. Besides, Drunk Draco wasn't the nicest to be around, since he always went through the five stages of grief, and then every other emotion known to man.

"Father!" Scorpius sang as he ran back into the living room, where Draco hadn't even realised he'd been sitting. "This book is the best book ever-"

Draco listened to his child ramble fondly, wishing the moment would last forever. But alas, I adore angst, so the blondie has to go through pain and pain and a bit more pain.

So it's safe to say, the moment didn't last forever.

omg i posted this on jan 17th didnt even realise

anyone remember the significance of jan 17th in tmh

i sound like im asking a gcse history question

what was the significance of marcher earldoms in 1067?