As said in the summary, here will await three one-shots, all Malfoy-related and having something to do with one wretched play I still have doubts whether to consider canon or not (yeah, I didn't like it). The anger after reading it resulted in a few so-called missing scenes from it, something I somehow needed to see. The characters are all behaving the way I see them; I always regarded Malfoys in a certain way, so I'm not really sure if it's really the way they are supposed to be seen. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

This one is set sometime after the main events of "The Cursed Child". The title comes from the short song "I'm Still Here" from Rizzoli & Isles. After a dark night, Draco needs to clarify some things.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter - all the characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

"You knew."

There was a pause - silence hang in the heavy air, prolonging for so long it became highly uncomfortable, yet no one dared to break it.

"You knew he... she... they had a child and you kept silent for twenty-two years."

Another pause.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Draco..."

"Don't."

Draco breathed heavily, not even looking at his parents. Never before in his life had he felt such an enormous amount of disgust towards anyone. After all those years, when he had finally come to terms with who they all had been, but how they had changed, getting so far from their starting point, so far from their roots, after all of that came the revelation that shook his world once more. Possibly changing it forever.

Oh, how much he would have done to avoid some of such events. He definitely had had enough of them for a few lifetimes.

"What did you expect us to do?" Lucius' voice was calm and cold. He stared into Draco's eyes with intensity that would frighten most people, but younger Malfoy had been resistant to it for a long time. Maybe because the father he had once been afraid of, the one that haunted his dreams in his childhood, always ordering him to do better, to be the best, had vanquished quarter of century ago. They say Azkaban changes you forever and there wasn't a better example for it than Lucius Malfoy. The only "haunting" thing left were his eyes, darker and colder than ever, but undoubtedly revealing a broken man inside, broken beyond the point of any possible repair. That was why he had withdrawn from the public life and sheltered inside the family, inside those four walls where they all could be safe and sound. Or maybe, as Draco now thought, the withdrawal had something to do with the biggest secret anyone could ever hide. "Keep her here and raise her as our own? Tell the world that our niece is Voldemort's daughter? Or reveal it and still give her away, so the world could exact its own justice on her?"

"What..." Draco couldn't believe his own ears. "I didn't say you should raise her as your own. Although maybe you should, maybe..." he stuttered for a moment, looking for the right words, "...you could save her from what she became. But instead you just ran away from the responsibility, left her with whoever bid the lowest price and washed your hands, because it was no longer your problem, right?"

"Draco..."

"I'm not finished, mother!"

Narcissa was standing in the middle of the room, in the same distance from her son, who didn't step from the threshold, and from her husband, who was sitting in an armchair next to the fireplace. Her face bore a tormented expression, one that would make Draco's heart ache if the circumstances had been different.

"And most of all, you lied to me. You didn't tell me that my cousin..." He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts that were raging in the storm of fury. "You didn't even tell me I had a cousin!"

Draco had been there for them when they had needed him; he had helped them rebuild their life after the Second War; he had helped Lucius come to terms with the new reality and accept his past experiences, although his father had never asked for it; he had been a steady support for both of his parents when everyone around them had been an enemy. He had always been there for them. And yet, they had been lying to him for the last twenty-two years. That hurt much more than he could ever expect.

"It was for your own good." Narcissa's words came barely above a whisper - she felt terrible in every possible way. For her long-dead sister, for her imprisoned niece she could have saved from such a fate, for her son who will probably never forgive her for sheltering him from the truth.

"I'm so sick of that phrase," Draco snapped with such an anger it made Narcissa shudder. Her beloved son had never raised his voice at her, not once.

"Don't speak like that to your mother!" Lucius stood up and came to her, wrapping his arm protectively over her shoulder as to shelter her from their son's rage. Anger appeared in his grey irises.

"Look at you," Draco mocked, his face distorted into expression of fake-pity. "So loving, so protective of your own kind. Well, guess what, father - she was your own kind as well and you let her rot in some dark hole!"

Lucius looked at him with wonder for a little while, apparently trying to understand his motives.

"What are you really angry about, Draco?" The oldest Malfoy's voice came out completely steady this time, calm and quiet again. He let go of Narcissa and threaded towards Draco to come to a stop right in front of him. "That we lied to you and to the whole wizarding world? Or that we didn't save that... little lost creature, as you apparently consider her to be? That we... weren't heroes?"

Draco stared at his father wordlessly, a storm of thoughts rushing through his brain.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Lucius spoke silently, but there was something dire in his voice, something that reminded Draco of some long forgotten - or at least he had thought so - time. "Heroes. You wanted to be a hero, but you were born on the wrong side of the war. And when you thought you were finally on the righteous path something like this happens and crushes your dreams yet again... So sad."

Draco felt a quiver of anger shooting directly through his heart. He knew now what it was in his father's voice - cruelty. He hadn't heard it in a while. Maybe even never directed strictly and solely towards him.

"Lucius!" Narcissa seemed as shocked as he was.

"When your mother tells you we did something for your own good, you'd better believe that." Lucius didn't react, continuing his speech instead. "It wasn't your cross to bear, so we spared you that knowledge. You aspired to be better than us, to be different, so we gave you that chance. Do you think you would receive it if the world found out your closest living relative is Voldemort's spawn? Have you given it a single thought, what would happen to your own life if the world discovered the truth?"

The silence that fell rang in Draco's and Narcissa's ears. The words were cruel and harsh, but Draco realized, in spite of himself, that his father was right. He hadn't had much of a normal life with sheer suspicions that his son was Voldemort's child; it was hard to imagine what their life would have looked like if the world had known the real truth.

"You haven't, of course."

Draco's eyes fell onto the floor. Yet again he felt like that lonely kid, constantly scorned by his over-demanding father, never good enough, yet always sheltered from what could harm him. If that wasn't the definition of tough love he didn't know what was.

Narcissa moved quietly towards him, apparently thinking about comforting him, but he stepped back immediately, which made her stop and look at him with excruciating sadness. He hated seeing her like that, especially that he was partially responsible for such a state of things. However, he wasn't able to force himself to do something about it. He was too infuriated by their deed and humiliated by the truth in his father's words that he had so foolishly ignored, to focus on anything other than his anger and pain.

He suddenly looked up from the floor, his eyes resembling two lakes frozen to the core. Narcissa realized her two men had never been more alike than in that moment.

"I understand your reasons," Draco started coldly, knowing there was no way to win a battle with his father, but he was more than determined to at least leave the house with his head up. He didn't care what they'll think or say anymore. Truth be told, the big part of him wanted to turn around this very moment and walk away to never be forced to look at them again. "I understand that all these years ago you were in fact trying to protect me."

Lucius' lips twisted into a smug smirk of victory. Draco suddenly felt sharp pain in his palms; he didn't realize he had been digging his nails into them for Merlin knew how long up until now.

"But I grew up. You had such a long time to tell me - me, not the world - any yet you chose not to, deceiving me, always omitting the truth. It wasn't for my protection, but for the protection of your own skin. You know what I would feel if you told me? I would feel grateful, proud that you decided to trust me, powerful with this new knowledge. The world wouldn't know, I would. Your son. The person you're supposed to trust. But you didn't."

He saw a quick flash of remorse showing in Lucius' eyes that quickly disappeared, leaving something akin to resignation.

"It was never about that kind of trust," the older Malfoy said quietly. "We..." one glance at Narcissa made him reconsider and change the pronoun, "I didn't trust you would keep it from destroying you."

"I'm not that weak foolish lad I was, father. I haven't been him for a really long time, but apparently you didn't notice."

The rage changed into a different kind of pain. For a long time Draco's biggest desire had been to make his father proud. Even now, as a grown-up man with a family of his own, with personal experiences that left him scarred for life, he still involuntarily and silently begged for approval. Yes, he had made a lot of things against his parents' wishes - like marrying someone they hadn't approved of - but that was not the point. He had thought he had lived up to at least some of Lucius' expectations. How painful was the realization he had been so deeply wrong...

Oh, he definitely did care what they'll think or say. Those were only some foolish wishes, a desperate attempt to convince himself things had changed.

Narcissa looked at her husband wide-eyedly, waiting for him to deny, to say anything that would make the situation at least slightly better. But Lucius remained silent, watching Draco with impenetrable expression. She shuddered internally at the thought of a rift they were currently creating between them, the rift that will be very difficult if not practically impossible to erase. Of course she could deny for Lucius, tell Draco what she was thinking about him, but she knew it wouldn't matter. Her son loved her with all his heart, but it wasn't her he had always tried to satisfy. It had never been her, because for her his sheer existence was enough to be pleased.

"Well..." Draco started, clearing his throat, but he wasn't meant to finish as Lucius cut him off mid-sentence.

"You don't understand at all, as usual." His voice was even colder now than before. "It was never about you being weak or strong, it was about what you would do with that knowledge out of the goodness of your heart." He took the word "goodness" in quotes, mockery present in his voice, filling those few letters thoroughly.

Draco knew what his father meant - the "goodness" of the middle Malfoy would make him set off for a wild search of the girl and try to save her, which would probably end tragically for a lot of people, him especially. Or at least that was what Draco thought Lucius had meant. But he was too exhausted by that hurtful and disappointing discussion to ask for clarification. He had enough. All of the negative emotions that had been raging through him left deep marks he was just now starting to feel. Only one desire remained - to run away from there and come back to the only person he might have not disappointed yet, at least not so severely. He had never been a father he wished Scorpius to have, but he had been trying, always relentlessly trying not to be Lucius. Remembering that, he suddenly felt a wave of new energy. He was a Malfoy, and even though it might not mean much nowadays, it should have always been associated with power and unyieldingness. But he was also himself, the first Malfoy to truly go his own way.

"You know," he chuckled humorlessly, his gaze on the ground, "coming here I was ready to forgive you. I was ready to forget all the lies and illusions, even though these lies put my son in danger's way. I wanted to forgive you, because I love you." He looked sternly first at Narcissa, who had only pain written in her blue irises, and then at Lucius, who remained stone-cold and disinterested. "But now I've had enough. I won't beg you to convince me I should forgive you; if you want me to ever talk to you again, you will come to me to beg for my forgiveness, which you won't get, because forgiveness is something one must earn." He stressed "you" and "me", his voice balanced and calm.

Lucius puffed indignantly, which earned him a strike on the arm from Narcissa, who didn't take her eyes off Draco.

"I... I just hope you'll finally pay the price for at least some of your mistakes, because that is something you deserve," Draco ended, his voice still steady, although his eyes were shooting lightnings.

"What price is there to pay?" Lucius asked before Narcissa could stop him. Obviously he didn't believe a word Draco had said, unlike his wife, who seemed devastated by their son's speech. "You think your new friends will lock us in Azkaban for hiding the truth and for the sins that are now long gone? What good would it bring to anyone?"

Draco smirked. Those sins could never be gone; his own burned in his veins every single day and he hadn't committed even one tenth as much wrongdoings as his father had.

"My new friends," he said slowly, focusing only on that part of Lucius' reaction. His so-called new friends were the sole reason his heart was still even beating, because if it hadn't been for them, Scorpius would be stuck in time for the rest of his life, without any way to come back. That wasn't something Draco's heart would survive, probably not ever and definitely not after...

He felt something squeezing his throat at the thought. It was still so hard every single time her name came to his mind. It was still so unbelievable. Like so many things that had happened lately, he noticed absentmindedly.

...not after Astoria, he finished sadly, now able to continue. "That's all that matters to you right now?"

This time it was Lucius who smirked.

"You seem very intent on convincing yourself your every choice is wrong in my eyes. Like a martyr you most definitely are not."

Narcissa's ears blocked the sounds, her heart unable to listen to it anymore. She had never been a compliant bystander, but now she just stood idly by, watching her two men eyeing each other hostilely. She wasn't sure what was exactly happening and why, as she didn't recognize their behavior whatsoever. Sure, they had often been that way towards other people, but not to each other, and definitely not since the second war. Their relationship had been strained and harsh, although never to such an extent. She felt like that was something for them to figure out on their own, so she shouldn't have interfered; but mostly, even though she was reluctant to admit it to herself, there was a guilt overwhelming her. A guilt that made her agree with practically everything Draco had said. A guilt that locked her lips and shot her back in time, forcing her to rethink the decision she had made so many years ago, like it could change anything, like it could change the situation they found themselves in.

It couldn't. Nothing could change it. It was already far too late to stop the damage Lucius and Draco were inflicting upon each other for the last half an hour or so.

Suddenly her eyes caught a glimpse of the youngest member of their family, who was standing in the corridor for Merlin knows how long. She smiled at him sadly and shook her head. He didn't react in any way, staring at his relatives with bewildered and frightened expression. She knew he shouldn't have seen it; that wasn't an image of their family she would have ever wanted Scorpius to have. It wasn't true, for once. It wasn't them. Not now, not today, not here.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied with how that went, because you're not gonna see me ever again." Draco's voice reached their ears. "Farewell, father. Mother." Draco nodded towards Narcissa and turned around towards the door. Whatever reaction the sight of his son evoked in him, he hid it perfectly.

"Don't make a fool of yourself," Lucius scoffed at Draco's back. The middle Malfoy didn't react, but continued his slow walk, in his mind already out of the room. He was contemplating how everything always had been a lie. False impressions, misleading believes, hidden half-truths. He had lived through all his childhood utterly convinced his parents considered Voldemort a Savior, like everyone else on their side of the wizarding world, only to find out they definitely didn't hold him in high regard. He had believed the idea of purity had been the most important thing they had ever had, only to become positively surprised that the most important thing for all the living Malfoys was, in fact, family and love. He had thought that after the second war they had finally entered the path of honesty and serenity. And now he learned it wasn't true as well.

What was true, he didn't now anymore.

"Draco Malfoy, I command you to come back here this instant!"

Draco smiled at his son and cocked his head towards the exit door of the property, silently asking Scorpius to follow him. Scorpius nodded, but stayed in the same place, his eyes still wide-open from shock and disbelief.

"Draco!"

Draco had never suspected that turning his back on his father both literally and metaphorically would be so gratifying; it was the first thing since Astoria's death that gave him so much joy, except of course for getting Scorpius back. He felt free, maybe for the first time in his life.

He was free.

Scorpius stared at his grandparents for a while, thinking, then smiled sadly and quickly followed in his father's footsteps. He had been trying to create bridges between him and the ever-so-prejudiced Rose Granger-Weasley, but as he now saw it, there were more important rifts he had to mend first. Hitting closer to home, creating deeper wounds. But he wouldn't be himself if he didn't try.

Scorpius Malfoy, the Mender of What's Broken.

He liked that. There was always hope to fix things, wasn't there?