DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own any part of the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of the characters. I'm just an avid fan who hopes to finish her story some time in the near future. :)
Chapter Six
Draco Malfoy sighed, leaning back in the chair outside a small cafe outside of Paris. He'd gotten quite used to this muggle cafe and its delicious caffeinated drinks. He'd found this place one day, soon after moving to France, and he'd come here once a week ever since.
Draco sipped his foamy mocha cappuccino as he watched the muggles around him mingle with one another and go about their daily business, unaware of his world and the magic that surrounded him. Occasionally, Draco would see a man or woman dressed oddly, and he would nod at them, their eye contact expressing a silent wizarding greeting.
Draining the contents of his cup, Draco left a small tip for the waiter, and wandered towards home. As he came into view of his home, nestled amongst normal, muggle dwellings, a small boy darted out from the townhouse, wrapping his short arms as far around Draco's waist as he possibly could, his hands not quite meeting behind Draco's back.
"Hello, Scorpius. Did you behave yourself for grandma?" Draco asked, a wide grin on the boy's face.
"Only most of the time!" Scorpius said, a wide grin on his small face.
" 'Only most of the time'? How were you the rest of the time?" Draco asked, looking into his son's eyes.
"Mischievous!" the boy said, turning and running back into the house. Draco smiled and shook his head, following his son into the house. Scorpius had learned that word from his tutor the day before, and he used as often as possible. Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for Draco just inside the door, her head held a bit high, and small smile on her face.
Narcissa's hair had grayed in the few years since Draco had left Hogwarts. Draco figured much of the gray hair was due to the Malfoys' involvement in the war, their status among other wizards very stressful.
"He said he was 'mischievous.' I hope he wasn't too rotten," Draco said, kissing his mother's cheek softly.
"Of course not. He only had a run-in with the cat. He tried to levitate the poor girl, claiming he had learned the charm from you. He almost had the cat to the ceiling before the poor creature realized what was happening. She freaked, and then he freaked, and before I knew it, she was running out of the house faster than anything I'd ever seen."
"He knows better than to levitate the cat. I'll talk to him."
"He's no more rotten than you were at that age. If I remember correctly, at three years old, you were racing around the manor on your father's old broom! And there was nothing I could do to stop you." Narcissa smiled at her son. "I must be off now. Your father's got a meeting of some kind that I simply MUST be present at." And with that, Narcissa Malfoy apparated from her son's home and back to her own.
Draco took a deep breath and went to find his son. He found Scorpius playing in his bedroom with a an enchanted race car set. Using his wand, Scorpius's cars were zooming around the room, across the tiled floor, up the walls, and over every other visible surface.
"You know you're not supposed to be doing that. You're only allowed to use your new wand when I'm home," Draco said, leaning against the door frame to his son's bedroom.
"But Grandma said it would be okay," Scorpius said, his cars coming to a screeching halt at his father's feet. Draco bent down and picked them up.
"Only because you're charismatic ways convinced her. You're too much like myself. Words will get you far in this world, little man. Come here." Scorpius stood and went to his father; Draco scooped him up and carried him into the living room.
"We've got a long day ahead of us. What do you say to heading in to Paris and having a look around?" Scorpius's eyes grew wide, almost as wide as the smile on his face.
After tucking Scorpius into bed that evening, Draco found himself wandering the house, bored out of his mind. A few years ago, he would have simply apparated wherever he wanted to go, whenever he wanted to. But things had changed.
Less than a year after Voldermort's fall, Draco's parents went into seclusion, afraid of the public and what they would do to the few existing followers Voldermort had had; however, Draco had chosen not to become a hermit.
He found himself traveling Europe, ending up in France, learning different sorts of magic, learning how magic changed from culture to culture, country to country. He had just arrived in France, looking for a place to stay, when he met a young French native.
Her English was flawless, but her accent shone through, not that she wanted to hide it. Her name was Astoria Greengrass, and Draco had never seen anything like her in his life. She wasn't the most beautiful of women, and she wasn't the most talented of witches, but Draco found himself falling in love with her with every sunset.
Draco and Astoria lost themselves in each other every chance they got, until one day Astoria told Draco she was leaving. He could recall the conversation as if it only happened yesterday.
"You're leaving?" he asked, his tone filled with heartbreak.
"Eet was only a matter of time, Draco, dear," she said. "We had fun with each other, but eet's not like we were in love." She laughed until she saw Draco's expression fall. "Oh. You thought... Oh, dear. Draco, we never discussed what we had as anything more than a passion-filled fling."
"You didn't exactly make it seem like that when I told you I loved you. And you said it back. Did that mean nothing to you?"
"Draco, Draco, Draco. Thees is France! We say it to EVERYONE! I tell my butcher that I love him every time I pick up a nice piece of meat!"
"We don't just toss the expression around for the hell of it where I come from, Astoria. It would have been nice if you had had the common decency to explain this a few weeks ago!"
She left the next morning. She packed everything up, and left, returning to her hometown, several hours south of Paris. He heard nothing from her for almost a year, until she showed up at the home he'd made for himself only five minutes north of Paris.
She said she couldn't stay long, that she only came for one reason. She handed him a sleeping infant, bundled in a blue, hand-knitted blanket. Astoria said she couldn't take care of their son, and that if Draco didn't take the child, she would have no choice but to put the baby boy in an orphanage. Draco stared down at the baby in his arms. One tiny hand stuck out from the top of the blanket, and Draco, cradling his infant son, wrapped the baby's tiny finger around one of this own long pale fingers.
The baby stirred slightly, a small whimper sounding from the child. When Draco looked up, Astoria was gone. Draco took the baby inside, cradling his son for hours while the baby slept, trying to figure out what he was going to do.
When the baby woke, he began to fuss. Draco, unwrapped the baby from the blanket, a small, folded sheet of parchment falling to the floor. Holding the baby tightly, Draco bent to pick up the paper, unfolding it with one hand. It said very little, and the only truly helpful information on it was that Astoria had named the baby Scorpius.
Draco let the paper fall to the floor again, gently rocking the baby on his shoulder. Not knowing what to do, Draco apparated to his parent's home, his mother's shock hidden as she sprang into maternal mode.
By the end of that same week, Draco's life had been completely rearranged for his new son. He'd turned his house from a house fit for a single man to one for a family. He worked during the day, his mother taking care of Scorpius while Draco was gone. Draco took great care of his son when he was home, guiding the baby in taking his first steps, ears listening when Scorpius uttered his first word.
And when the boy turned three, only four months ago, Draco took his son to the magic world of Diagon Alley, where the young boy watched everything with wide eyes, amazed at everything he saw that he'd never seen his short lifetime. Here, Draco took Scorpius to Covair's, the newly-constructed wand shop, set in place where Ollivander's used to be after the old wand-maker's retirement. Scorpius was awestruck when he found the perfect wand, mesmerized when the ten-inch cedar wand (with a Centaur tail-hair core) "chose" him.
Draco listened to the quiet of his house. Sighing, he went into the living room. After browsing his over-sized bookshelf, Draco pulled out Quidditch Throughout the Years, a gift his mother had given him several years ago.
A/N: Hopefully you've enjoyed this new chapter! Please review whether or not you liked it! The next chapter will be up as soon as I'm done with it! :)
