The Poisoned Apple
Author's Note: 'The Poisoned Apple' is my first attempt in any kind of fanfiction and therefore I kindly ask for constructive reviews from my readers. English is my second language and the story is not beta'd; so I apologize beforehand for any kind of grammatical errors which might have slipped my attention. I have used French dialogues in this chapter and thanks to Wane Soo-Jin for correcting the French.
The rating for this chapter is K.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Harry Potter and related characters are copyright to J K Rowling and Warner Bros. Any resemblance to other characters is purely co-incidental. No money or profit is being gained from this writing.
Chapter 1: Prologue.
"OUCH!"
Draco Malfoy, absentmindedly wandering the streets of Paris near 'Jardin des Tuileries', was brought to his senses by a sudden thud and a loud cry of pain. Startled, he looked around for the source of the sound and after a few moments of frantic scrutiny of surroundings, realized that it was coming from a small boy who lay at his feet, rubbing his eye.
'Damn! How can he be so careless?'
Not thinking any further and cursing himself under the breath for his lack of attention while walking, he immediately sat down to inspect the boy.
"Are you hurt, kid?" he asked anxiously as he searched for any obvious signs of trauma in his face.
The boy did not answer but kept rubbing his left eye.
'Damn!' Draco gulped and cursed again. Had he wounded the boy grievously?
"Let me see. Let me see your eye, kid," he almost pleaded, trying hard to conceal a growing sense of alarm from his voice.
The boy still did not comply. He kept rubbing his eye painfully while completely ignoring his plea.
Draco looked around helplessly, 'Where are the boy's parents?' he thought desperately. 'Why isn't he listening to me?'
And then he realized.
He had been trying to talk to a French boy in the middle of a street full of French people in front of a famous French park in: English.
'Damn again and again and again!'
Utterly disgusted by his sense of space, he leaned forward to the small boy and spoke in very clear French: Est-Tu blessé gamin ? (Are you hurt, kid?)
The boy nodded in response all the while sniffing and rubbing his left eye.
For some inexplicable reason Draco's heart melted at the sight. He reached, grabbed the boy's hand carefully to remove it from his eye and said gently, "Je ne vais pas te faire de mal. Laisse-moi voir." (I am not going to hurt you. Let me see.)
The boy complied this time and looked at him.
Draco's breath caught at his throat.
The wide eyes now staring at him, one red and watering along with its other normal counterpart, were exactly the same shape and colour as his own: Grey.
The 'Malfoy Grey'.
But that was just the beginning. As his eyes trailed down along the face of the slightly startled and painful looking boy, he discovered other unmistakable Malfoy traits: pale flawless complexion, pointed nose and chin, high cheekbones and lips perfect for their trademark Malfoy sneer.
A face of Draco's own younger self. A face that was destined to become a handsome man in future.
Completely oblivious to his surroundings Draco gaped at the boy, too mesmerized to even blink.
The little boy was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a red and white striped T-shirt along with a blue cap to match his pants.
Transfixed and hardly daring to breathe Draco reached forward and removed the cap from the boys little head.
His gaze fell upon small, messy silvery-blonde curls adorning his head. He looked just like—
"Scorpius!" Draco cried out.
"Excusez-moi, Monsieur! Quefaites-vouz?" (Excuse me, Mister! What are you doing?)
Draco was snapped back to reality from his reverie by an angry female voice. So lost was he in his thoughts that he had failed to notice the female figure now flanking the boy and as he looked up following the direction of the voice, he found a young woman staring down at him: livid.
"Pardon?" he asked instead, simply too lost to voice his thoughts properly.
The woman seemed to get even angrier. She flared her nose visibly and grasped the boy protectively in her arms.
"Pourquoi regardez-vous cet enfant?" (Why are you staring at this boy? she asked Draco in a deadly cold voice.
Unable to comprehend what to say in response, Draco simply stared at the woman and the boy before him.
The boy except for his curly pattern of hair looked exactly like his own miniature self at the age of five or six. The woman on the other hand was nothing remotely like the boy: her hair was straight light brown and she had a pale freckled face, a small chin, a button nose and deep blue eyes, which were blazing at the moment.
"Quelest son prénom?" (What is his name?) he heard himself asking her.
The woman huffed angrily in response and snatched the boy's cap from Draco's hand. She placed it on the boy's curl-adorned head, glared at him and said through gritted teeth:
"Ne le touchez pas!" (Don't touch him.)
She hoisted the boy, who was still staring at Draco, in her lap and kissed him tenderly on his cheek.
"On s'en va Adrian." (Come, Adrian.) She said, still glaring at Draco's direction before she spun at her heels and started walking at the opposite direction towards the entrance of the Tuileries Garden.
Draco stood rooted to the spot watching the retreating figure of the woman with the angelic boy with only one word reverberating across his mind: Adrian! Adrian! Adrian!
Then in the flash of a blink, the woman and the boy were gone.
Draco came to his senses and lunged forward frantically as if trying to feel the woman and the boy in the thin air.
"Scorpius! Adrian! Scorpius! Adrian!" he called after the boy as he looked around and searched the place, bewildered.
But they were nowhere to be seen.
"No! No! No! Come back to me, Scorpius! Come back to Father!" he screamed in despair as he tore into the park in search of his lost son.
