He has my eyes
This one-shot came to me while I was attempting to come up with a storyline for a new Dramione book. However, it is more applicable for a one-shot than a full story. This was originally a piece of drabble I posted on Tumblr. Due to the amount of attention it received, I decided to extend the drabble and turn it into a one-shot I could post on here. Warning, it's quite sad and is, for sure, full of angst.
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Scorpius walked through the door to his Father and Mother's chamber. The room was in the East wing and was directly across from his own. He had been meaning to go through the boxes of his Mother's belongings – that his house elves packed - but decided against it for a while. His Mother had died a month ago, and the silence that followed her death roamed the halls, taunting him.
He was standing in front of his Mother's and Father's outsized closet which was now empty. It had been filled with his Mother's clothes long before. He looked around, noticing that a maroon and black book was sitting on the floor behind – what he remembered – was his mother's shoe rack. Letting curiosity get the best of him, he picked up the book. He was surprised to see that his name was engraved in the front of the book, and a baby lion image was playing on it.
He took the book and made himself comfortable on his Father's bed. His father, he scoffed, the man didn't seem fazed by the death of his wife. Then again, Scorpius questioned for a long time if his Father even loved his Mother. If he did, he never showed it.
His Mother was kind and gentle – somewhat like the old-lady Scorpius had met at Madam Malkin's. His mum didn't shower him with affection, nor did she show that she loved him. She was just nice. He heard everyone talk about their Mother's. How Rose Parkinson-Weasley's mum would always buy her, her favourite jellybeans and owl them to her. Or how Rafael Zabini's mum would always take him to Quidditch matches, even when she wasn't playing. His mother never did those things. She'd be there at the table to eat, ask him about his time at Hogwarts, and when dinner finishes, she would head to bed or to Aunt Daphne's home.
He opened the book. The first image was – what he presumed – was his first Ultrasound.
"Scorpius' first Ultrasound," he read aloud. Well, that clarifies it. He turned the pages, each page filled with his monthly Ultrasounds and showing how much he had grown.
The last page – the tenth – was used, too. He looked closely at the image – it was of his Father, Mother and him. But-
"What on Salazar?"
Scorpius ran out of the room and down the stairs, attempting to find his Father. He stopped by the Drawing room door, hearing the clink of the glass.
"Tell me about mother," Scorpius looked at his father - who was sitting in the middle of the drawing room, drinking a cup of firewhisky. Scorpius entered the room, the maroon` and black book in hands. His father looked at the book briefly before meeting his son's stare. He took a sip of his drink and placed it on the table.
"Your mother was a wonderful witch," Draco said, looking at his son. "Very proud of who she was. I guess all Slytherin's were, actu-
"I want to know about my real mother," Scorpius took a step toward his father. "I know mu- I mean Astoria was not my biological mother. It's another witch. I'm sure of it." Draco's eyes widened.
"Scorpius, do not begin with these st-
"I've seen the photographs, dad. I know that Astoria isn't my mother."
Draco looked at his son, tears beginning to fill his eyes as he suddenly realised what book he had in his hands. It was the book she had made, filled with ultrasound images of Scorpius. One with the three of them he had put in the night he arrived from St Mungo's with Scorpius.
"Tell him when he's ready," She smiled through the tears, placing a hand on her lover's cheek. "But in the meantime, I want you to move o-
"Don't start with that bullshit again, Granger," He sniffled, attempting to hide the tears that caressed his eyes. "No woman could replace you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you." Hermione let a tear drop from her eyes. Sitting in a St Mungo's hospital bed, waiting for the healers to come through the door, assuring them that it is time for baby Scorpius to enter the world.
"Draco, listen to me," She whispered, staring into his grey eyes she hoped their son would inherit. "I want you to move on. Fall in love," She began to sob, "make sure she treats Scorpius as her own, so he will never question whether he is hers or not," her bottom lip began to tremble. "Only tell him when the time is right. Tell him that his mother loves him, and will always be there for him. No matter what."
"Hermione, don't make me do this," he sobbed into her hand, "I- I can't lose the love of my life." She leaned in, her forehead brushing up against his as their lips were concealed into a loving embrace.
"I will always love you, Draco." She whispered against his lips, "Promise me,"
"Hermion-
"Please, Draco."
"I promise."
"Miss Granger," The healers walked through the door, "it's time."
Hermione fell pregnant with Draco's son four years after the war. They worked together for quite some time before Draco moved out of the Department of Magical Creatures and became the head of the Department of Law Enforcement. He then asked if she would accompany him to the Ministry's annual Winter Ball, she smiled and agreed.
"Has your partner been a victim of the Cruciatus Curse?" Draco's face paled.
"Ye-yes. Four years ago." He looked at his sleeping lover through the glass window of the St Mungo's maternity ward room.
"Mister Malfoy," The healer looked at the blond with pity, "Due to the immediate effects of the Cruciatus, and not being healed with the proper antidotes and spells at the time of occurrence, Miss Granger will not be able to carry this child. And if she does, the chances of both, her and the child surviving are slim. We expect that the two of you should come to a conclusion by the end of the eighth month," he stumbled. His features paling and his eyes watering.
"A conclusion?"
"We will only be able to save one, Mister Malfoy. The baby or Miss Granger."
"You-your mother was the most beautiful witch to exist. Her smile could brighten up the darkest of rooms. Her cheeks would turn a vibrant shade when I complimented her," He looked up at his son with a distant smile, "She had this large mane that she called hair," he chuckled, "but, it was bloody perfect," He looked down at the ground, "and when she looked at me – she looked at me as if I held the world in my hands. That she was the most luckiest woman to live. Only that wasn't true. I was the luckiest man." He glanced up at his son before continuing. "Her eyes weren't brown, no," he smiled absentmindedly, "they were caramel, and the tip of her iris were golden, and in the sun they looked yellow. The way she battered her eyelashes at me when she was teasing me," he let a tear stream down his face. "Your mother was the bravest woman I knew. She fought in the war, she fought for what she believed in despite what people thought of her. She was courageous and Merlin, was she intelligent." He laughed, "She walked through the front door, six months after the war and declared that I told her the truth about why I chose to be a death eater. She was the reason why I got the job at the Ministry. Her persistent need to get what she wanted and she always used it for good." Tears were now streaming down his cheek as the memories of his late lover whirled in his head. "She was brave until the very end."
"Dad," Scorpius met his father's stare, "why didn't you tell me about her?"
"She told me to only tell you when the time was right," He laughed, "Merlin, how was I supposed to know when the time was right? Your mother was great at those things. Not me." He let another tear fall. "I wanted you to grow up knowing your mother. Not Astoria. But your biological mother, Scorp. But I promised your mother that I'd do that last thing for her, and that's what I did."
Scorpius was now standing across from his father, tears glossing his eyes and he stared at the moving photograph resting in his hands.
"How did you get this photo?"
"The Healer managed to let your mother hold you for a minute before the charm would wear off. It was one of the healers who took it. She gave me the photograph before I left St Mungo's." Draco walked toward his son, seeing the photo he always turned to. The photo where Hermione was lying in bed, baby Scorpius in her arms and Draco hovering over them two, staring as if his world had been complete.
"Mum's Hermione Granger, isn't she? I've heard a lot about her. And how she was the brightest witch of her age," Scorpius looked up at his father, "Headmistress McGonagall always tells us about her. About how brave she was. She told me that I reminded her of mum," he smiled, "I was so happy, dad. I was so happy to be compared to the brightest witch of her age," he began to cry, "and all along, that's all I thought she was. The brightest witch of her age," Draco embraced his son into a muffled hug, "but she wa-was so much more. She is my Mother."
Draco let the tears stream down his face. His son had never met his mother. The fact that he was so much like her, and Draco couldn't even tell him, was what hurt him the most. He had her lips, her button nose, her freckles her-
"You know what was the last thing she said to me, Scorp?" Draco smiled, looking down at his son.
"What?"
"Bugger. He has my eyes."