This story was written for the House Competition by Moonlight Forgotten (Year 3)
Round 3
House: Gryffindor
Position: Year 1
Category: Drabble (Family)
Prompt: Malfoy Manor
Words: 366
Draco Malfoy was at his study at Malfoy Manor when his eleven-year-old son, Scorpius Malfoy, entered. Scorpius was about to begin his first year at Hogwarts and was very much the spitting image of Draco with his pointed chin, pale skin, and platinum blonde hair.
"Dad, may I have word?" asked Scorpius.
"Certainly, son," Draco obliged.
Scorpius seemed to be contemplating what he had to say.
"What if … what …" Scorpius paused.
"Go on Scorpius. You can tell me anything," said Draco curtly.
"What if I don't get into Slytherin? Would I be an embarrassment to our family?" asked Scorpius.
Draco eyed his son. He knew where his son was coming from. Draco himself had been brought up to idolize Slytherin and was taught that it was family tradition to be sorted into Slytherin. But the war and age had given him perspective. Draco and Astoria had decided to raise Scorpius to embrace himself as an individual instead of bowing to family traditions. He had decided to never force any of their family expectations on Scorpius.
Draco walked up to his son and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Son, don't listen too much to what your grandfather and grandmother say. Your mum and I would be proud of you regardless of which house you get sorted into," said Draco.
"You really mean that?" asked Scorpius, astonished.
"I cross my heart," said Draco.
"Even Hufflepuff?"
"Even Hufflepuff," Draco said reassuringly. "Your mother and l would love and value you just as much, whichever house you get into."
"What about Grandma and Grandpa?"
"They love you too, and I assure you they'll come around eventually," said Draco.
"Thanks Dad," said Scorpius, throwing his arms around his father.
Draco returned the hug comfortingly. He never had many of these hugs with his father, at least not as much as he secretly craved to. When he had Scorpius, Draco had promised not to deprive his son of the affection he had craved from his father. He could never stop loving the little boy in his arms no matter what he did or which house he got into. He couldn't even if he tried. His fatherly love was unconditional.