A/N: This story will have 12 chapters, not counting this intro and the epilogue. You see that? I actually know how many chapters are in the story.

I wanted to go ahead and post the intro, but the first chapter will not be up until I get back to college some time in mid-August. Love you all!


A Year Without Magic

An Introduction

"Father."

He should have expected it, of course.

"Father?"

No, not even expected- he should have known.

"Father."

He remembered reading about it in the Prophet, after all, read the engagement notice all those years ago and even saw pictures of the bouncing babies years later.

"Father, if you don't pay attention I'm going to set your pants on fire with my mind."

Draco blinked rapidly, quickly refocusing his attention on the disgruntled eleven-year-old before him. Scorpius was glaring up at his father, hands on his hips and an all-too-knowing look in his gray eyes.

"If you're quite done gaping, it'd be great if you could help me haul this two-ton trunk onto the train," the boy said wryly, "you know, if you're up to it."

Draco was stuck somewhere between being irritated with the little snot and being thoroughly amused at how very like himself the boy had turned out.

"Keep up that attitude and you'll be hauling that trunk all the way back to the house while the train leaves without you," he finally grumbled, grabbing one of the handles while Scorpius took hold of the other.

"Oh, be still, my terrified little heart," Scorpius snarked back.

"You're a haughty little piss, you know that?"

"I'm just excited, Father," Scorpius drawled dramatically, rolling his eyes.

Draco dropped his side of the trunk and smirked when the full weight of it dragged his son to the ground. The now-ruffled and irritated Scorpius huffed and glared up at his father, who determinedly picked at his fingernails and ignored the boy on the ground.

"You're an arse!" the boy snapped, hauling himself to his feet.

"And you're only eleven so don't use that sort of language," Draco shot back, reaching out to brush a piece of lint off his son's shoulder. "Now grab your trunk and let's get it to the train before the conductor comes to his senses and leaves without you."

Scorpius grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a repetition of his earlier swear, but helped his father haul the trunk to the luggage rack of a train compartment all the same.

"Good lord, what did you pack, you little goblin?" Draco gasped, holding a hand over the stitch in his side.

"Oh, I don't know, Dad- maybe a whole year's worth of clothing," Scorpius attempted to snark, but the affect was somewhat diminished by his breathless panting.

The two finally managed to straighten up and look around the compartment.

It was smaller than Draco recalled- then again it had been a long time since he'd been on the Hogwarts Express. Aside from the slightly claustrophobic feeling he got from all the snot-nosed brats banging around him, there was also a vague sense of nostalgia. He shook it off and made his way off the train and back to the platform, Scorpius hot on his heels.

He'd never admit how much he'd been dreading this moment- sending Scorpius off for his first year. But…well, time moved on even if you weren't ready for it to do so, and that was a lesson Draco had learned better than a lot of people.

"Alright, Dad, let me have it," Scorpius said, screwing up his face as if expecting something terribly unpleasant.

"Let you have what? What are you talking about?"

Scorpius gave a long-suffering sigh and examined his nails in the same offhand way his father had earlier. "Your long-winded, teary-eyed, I'm-going-to-miss-you-be-a-good-boy speech. Isn't that what fathers do at this moment?"

Draco stared down at the little arse who was so very obviously his son. Same white-blonde hair, same gray eyes, same self-satisfied smirk. It was like staring at the reflection of his eleven-year-old self.

"Alright then, you prat. Here's your speech so pay attention."

Scorpius continued to examine his nails, but Draco could practically see the boy's ears perk up.

"You're going to get away with a lot of cheek because you're a good-looking, charming little bastard. Don't try to get anything past the head mistress though- she's not going to fall for it. Don't walk through the ghosts- it feels terrible. Don't touch any girls until you're at least a fourth year- if you so much as look at them before that time, your brain will melt out of your ears. Don't cut class- you're not bright enough to get away with it. Try out for Quidditch- your puny size and the enjoyment you get from chasing shiny things will make you a good Seeker. Write me every week or else I won't send you money." Draco trailed off, tapping his lips with his forefinger as he thought for a few seconds. "Yeah, that's about it. Well, have fun, don't die, see you next year." He turned smartly on his heel and started off through the crowd, leaving a wide-eyed and stunned Scorpius to stare after him.

When it became clear that his father had no intention of turning around or coming back for him, Scorpius made a mad dash through the crowd, shoving through the other parents and students until he caught the back of his dad's coat and gave an almighty tug.

"Dad! Dad, wait!" he panted, pulling hard on the coat until Draco turned to look down at him with his eyebrows raised high.

"Yeah, what?" Draco asked coolly, trying to keep the smile from breaking onto his lips.

"I- I just…" Scorpius fidgeted, looking around surreptitiously to see if anyone was watching. The coast was clear. He launched himself bodily at his father, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist and squeezing tight. "I'll miss you, Dad. And I'll write you and…and I love you!" he hissed the last bit in a whisper so that none of the passersby would hear.

Draco returned the boy's hug and grinned to himself. They really were too much alike- he'd been just as arrogant and terrified of looking like anancyon his first day. Unlike Scorpius, he'd never pushed the arrogance aside and said anything to his father- something he regretted now. After a final, rib-crunching squeeze, Scorpius let go and hastily took a step back, haughty mask back in place.

"One last thing, Father," he said, sounding like a prince addressing Parliament.

"Yes?" Draco asked, slightly amused.

"You should talk to her."

Scorpius held his father's gaze, but Draco was hardly paying any attention. His mind was racing in a thousand different directions- one of which involved being irritated with how very perceptive his little brat of a son had turned out to be. Talk to her.

Talk to her, the boy said, as if it were that simple. As if he could just walk up to her, here of all places, walk up to her and speak. After all these years. Speak to her.

Hear her voice.

After all these years.

The train whistle sounded, high and loud like a banshee scream. Scorpius jumped, eyes widening, and Draco forced his mind to the present.

"You're going to have the time of your life," he said, squeezing Scorpius' shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll come to all of your Quidditch matches, and I promise you won't even realize youmisshome-that's how wonderful Hogwarts is. Chin up," he added, knocking his knuckles against the boy's jaw playfully. "Now hurry off before the train actually leaves you!"

Scorpius gave a hysterical bark of a laugh before sprinting for the train doors. Draco watched through the windows as the boy composed himself and glided coolly to the compartment where they'd stowed his trunk. He gave a last glance out the window, met Draco's eyes, and flashed an arrogant grin. The train lurched forward, and Scorpius turned away and started talking to another boy in the compartment.

He was just a child, Draco reminded himself. Scorpius had no idea what he'd asked his father to do- to go talk to her. He was so young- he couldn't understand.

Yes, he was just a child. An oddly perceptive one, but a child all the same.

The engine was passing out of the station; it would be out of sight soon.

Draco steeled himself, reached into his pocket and grasped the folded piece of paper there as if it were his only link to this world, turned and looked across the platform, and met her eyes for the first time in seventeen years.