Holy... Has it really been 11 years since I last wrote a HP fan fic? Well, here we are again, all thanks to seeing Cursed Child for the first time and absolutely falling in love with the relationship between Draco and Scorpius. With all the conversations we saw between Harry and Albus, I thought this pair deserved one, too. Takes place directly after the lake scene and MacGonagall speaks to everyone.

"And Dad! My dad! Hi, Dad."

The wealth of emotions that had surged through Scorpius in that moment and the moments preceding it were still rattling away in his shell-shocked mind. Albus existed! Harry Potter survived the Battle of Hogwarts and was back exactly as he should be, from the top of his lightning bolt scar to the bottom of his awkward relationship with his son! And his own dad….

Oh, as excited as he had been the second he laid eyes on him, he was ten times that nervous now. After the headmistress had given them enough detentions to last them until the end of their school career, Draco had requested he borrow an empty classroom to discuss matters further with his son. Alone.

Every kid in the history of existence knew there would be nothing good to come from this. Yet, here he was, walking quietly into the lifeless History of Magic classroom, wishing desperately they could discuss the books on the shelves rather than the whole business with the time turner. He turned and braved a glance at his father. After the alternate reality he had just seen, looking his dad in the eye, knowing the heaps of trouble he was in, wasn't the most terrifying thing in the world. Still, he had to admit it came closer than he liked.

Draco swept in effortlessly and closed the door behind them. The solitude, tension, and darkness reminded the young teen of the conversation they had shared in the other timeline: a mixture of yelling and thinly veiled warnings wrapped in something that still felt like love. The banners and propaganda were missing now, replaced by thick tomes from decades and centuries past, but the emotions felt eerily similar.

"Do you have anything more you would like to say?" Draco's voice was heavy, though Scorpius could hear the thin tether to his anger fraying already. Instinctively, he stood a little straighter.

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"I mean, no, sir. I didn't mean, um, I mean… Sorry, but no. Sir."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and they stood there, listening to the wind outside and the sounds of their breathing, father struggling to keep himself together and son just trying to just keep himself steady. The formality in his child's voice eased some of the rising frustration, but knowing what his and Albus's stupidity had nearly brought into the world—had brought into the world—forced him to take a moment.

Scorpius waited, his hands fidgeting and his eyes darting from one corner of the room to another. He thought back to the fight he'd had with his dad's other version, rubbing his neck as he recalled being pressed against the mahogany desk. His father, for better or worse, didn't get physical often. Pats on the shoulder were more frequent than hugs as his mother had been the affectionate parent, but the teen was also aware his father was far less… damaging than his own had been. He recalled the few mild incidents in his earlier childhood for serious infractions and the pulling of his collar from the lake all the way to the headmistress's office were all more the exception than the rule. Certainly nothing he'd consider unreasonable, let alone abusive.

That didn't stop Scorpius from steering clear of the desk and out of arm's reach.

"I want you to know that I'm not stepping in to ask Professor McGonagall to lighten her sentences."

"I wouldn't ask—" Draco sent Scorpius a sharp look, silencing him immediately.

"You will do as many detentions as she sees fit. You won't see Hogsmeade again until after school lets out in spring unless I get an owl from her detailing how she's allowing it early due to your impeccable behavior and grades. As for Christmas…" he trailed, taking another deep, shaky breath. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now I need to truly know that you understand, without even a hair of a doubt, what you and Albus did was dangerously idiotic, reckless, and damn well beyond comprehension."

"Yes, sir. I really am sorry. I mean it. One-hundred percent, totally, and completely mean it. I'm so, so sorry, Dad. I promise, no more time turning," Scorpius squeaked out.

Draco stared at him briefly before heaving a sigh. "Thank Merlin that device is at the bottom of the lake and will soon, hopefully, be back in the hands of responsible adults. Well, more responsible than two fourteen-year-olds."

Scorpius urged his cheeks not to flush crimson, urged his little fidgets not to give him away as the device practically burned a hole in his pocket. He thanked whatever lucky stars he had left that the room was as dark as it was, crossing his toes in his shoes that his father would be none the wiser.

After this, he thought, I will never lie or steal or do anything against my dad again. I swear. Just let me get rid of the time turner and I'll be the best son to ever son in the history of sons.

A thick silence settled around them, Draco's stare burning into Scorpius, his son using the fear he'd experienced in the alternate world to remind him he would survive this, too. Well, so long as his secret didn't get found out, in which case he hoped Albus knew he was the executor of his estate consisting of Fizzing Whizzbies and Pepper Imps.

"I can not believe you escaped from the Hogwarts Express while it was moving, snuck around the Ministry of Magic, impersonated Pott—the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stole a time turner when you've read enough books to know the exact details of when's and why's and where's of their illegality right down to what the Minister for Magic ate for breakfast on the day they were banned, and nearly brought on what I would essentially call one step shy of the apocalypse."

Scorpius hung his head, a treacherous burning prickling his eyes. "I really am sorry, Dad."

Draco forced himself to take another steadying breath. Whether or not he noticed the few stray tears that had managed to trail down his son's cheeks, Scorpius couldn't be sure but was grateful to once again for the dim lighting.

"Do you know what out of all of this is the hardest to bear?"

The teen raised his gaze back to his father and the sudden softness of his voice. "No, sir. Maybe? I don't think the illegal bits were fun to hear, especially since our family name is already, well, in the state it's in."

"No, Scorpius. Every step of the way, you put yourself in danger. Immense, horrible danger. At any point, I could have lost you. Do you understand that?"

More tears collected, making tracks down his face and dribbling off his jaw. "Yes, sir. I swear, I'll never do something like this again. We just wanted to do something right and it went so horribly wrong."

He sensed his father move as he wiped the the moisture from his cheeks, and though he was both anxious and hopeful for what was to come, he found himself rooted on the spot. After a while, he felt a firm but caring hand on his shoulder then up to his hair.

"I know what you did came from a good place, but I am asking you to think harder in the future. Am I clear?"

"Completely," he nodded.

He sniffled then registered the handkerchief stretched out to him. With a grateful, watery smile, he took it and struggled to make himself presentable once more.

"I…" Draco started, and though he didn't finish it, Scorpius could swear he heard it, anyway. This time more than any other time his father had come close to showing too much emotion, except for perhaps on the day of Astoria's funeral.

"Me, too, Dad," he replied.

Maybe one day, he thought, they could drop the Malfoy act and just be a father and son. Hug, perhaps. Admit they loved each other, even. Maybe.

For now, a handkerchief, an outstretched hand, and the quiet would have to do.