"Mistress?" Thin fingers poke her gently, rousing Narcissa from her sleep. She scowls and squints in the thin light just starting to drift through the gap in the heavy curtains. Only just dawn. There's a shape beside her – unusual, unfamiliar – and she remembers Lucius, and yesterday, and how today is only the second day of the rest of their life.

"Mistress," says the elf a little more forcefully, pulling Narcissa's attention to it.

She scowls. "What?"

"Master Draco, Mistress. With Master Scorpius. Looking for Floo-powder. Mistress said she wanted to be informed–"

But Narcissa is already up, heart hammering, searching for her slippers and trying to be quiet, trying not to wake the man sleeping so heavily beside her. When had Lucius come up to bed?

"Yes. I'm coming."

She finds Draco by the fireplace in the hall, dressed in his work suit – smart and black and clean – searching the cabinet in which the Floo-powder is usually kept. She is glad she had it moved and hidden, for fear of a situation exactly like this. He will not run away from them again.

Scorpius is with him, sleepy and wobbling on his feet; bundled up in what seems to be every item of outdoor clothing he owns. He smiles in bleary welcome as she approaches at a brisk walk. It's all Narcissa can manage to not run to Draco and slap him.

Instead, she strides up and grabs his arm, forcing him to face her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Going to work." The words are bleak and flat. He looks even more tired than Scorpius, as though he hasn't slept in weeks. As neatly as he's dressed him and tied back his hair, nothing can hide the shadows under his eyes or the grey in his skin. He looks like he did when he was sixteen and the Dark Lord took over their home. Narcissa relaxes her hold on him just a fraction, still keeping him in place.

"I thought you were taking some time off?"

"I really can't afford to," says Draco, his eyes fixed just south of hers. "I thought I could work here but there are too many distractions. I really need go in and get things done."

"And you require Scorpius's assistance, do you?"

He looks at her then with a wary ferocity that tells her he's prepared to fight if he has to.

Her mouth tightens. "No, Draco."

"You cannot stop me."

"If you thought that was true, you wouldn't be sneaking away."

Draco swallows, eyes flicking to where Scorpius is watching them closely. Then, very quietly, "We can't stay here, Mother." Because the game is up and there's no point lying to her. Draco has always been a terrible liar. He starts to move away from her. "We have to go–"

"Have you had breakfast?"

Scorpius's attention piques at the mention of breakfast. Draco notices and sags. "Don't do this."

"At least eat before you go." She's desperate. He's right, as hateful as it is to admit: she cannot stop him if he's really determined to go. But she's right too. He would not be sneaking away in the hope of not being caught if he was really determined. "Your father's not going to be up for hours, and Astoria always sleeps late. Please, Draco. At least have coffee with me."

Scorpius tugs at Draco's jacket and makes an eager hand gesture that she doesn't understand. Draco makes one back, and once again they're deep into a conversation that she cannot be a part of. It's no wonder that Astoria gets frustrated. Lucius is infuriating, but at least they can have a conversation.

Finally, it seems that Scorpius's desire for food wins out and Draco sighs. "One coffee. And then I really do need to go to work."

"Maybe a day away from the Manor will help," Narcissa agrees tentatively, settling her hand more loosely on Draco's arm. "But there's no need for Scorpius to go too. I'm sure we can find something with which to entertain him." Her free hand rests on her grandson's shoulder. She might not be able to understand him, but when Draco took him away before, his absence left a significant hole behind. She cannot stand the thought of losing him again. Of losing either of them. They are finally all together, can finally move on with their lives. She just wishes that Draco and Lucius could understand that it's going to take time and patience. "Would you like to go flying, Scorpius? Did you know that your grandfather was on the Hogwarts's Quidditch team too? I'm sure he'd love to take you out."

"No," says Draco shortly.

"He taught you."

"He spelled my broomstick so that I couldn't land for an hour."

"It worked, didn't it?"

Draco makes a derisive sound in the back of his throat.

She sighs. This isn't how it's supposed to go. "I know this is hard for you," she murmurs. "I know he can be unfair."

"That's certainly one word for it, though not necessarily the one I would use."

"It's hard for me too," she pushes on, absently combing Scorpius's hair with her fingers "But it's going to take time. Azkaban takes a terrible tole on people, and it's going to be difficult for him to adapt to the way things are now. But please be patient with him, Draco. Rise above it. What do they say about Krups? All bark and no bite?"

The smallest smile tweaks Draco's mouth, though they both know how inapplicable the comparison is to Lucius.

"You are stronger than your father," says Narcissa. "I know you are even if you don't believe it yourself. There's nothing he can do to you, no matter how angry he gets. You know that, don't you? He's been broken down and he's pretending otherwise. But it is pretense. Nothing more Just give him a chance and I think you'll be surprised. And he's very taken with Scorpius," she pushes, looking for a smile. "I think being a grandfather will be good for him, will soften him."

"I don't want Scorpius used like that."

"Draco–"

"I don't trust him," says Draco, watching the ground as they walk. "Least of all with Scorp. And maybe it's a matter of time, but I don't have time. I have enough to do, enough to deal with, and Father–" He chews his lip, uncomfortable with being so candid. "Father sends me backwards."

"I know." She squeezes his arm. "I know he does. I know it's hard. I know there's so much you've been trying to forget."

"He came looking for me last night," says Draco quietly. "I was trying to work in the library and he found me. He talked about Snape."

Her heart gives a jolt. "I'm sorry, darling."

"I don't do that," Draco continues stiltedly. "I don't talk about him. And Father wouldn't stop. Insisted on telling me what Snape would want and what he wouldn't. Telling me that it's both his fault that everything went wrong and that he saved the world and I'm wasting the chance he gave me. And I don't know. I don't know. I told him... I told Father..."

But she stops him with a touch, acutely aware of the child on her other side, listening to things he ought not to be listening to.

"Scorpius," says Narcissa. "Why don't you run down to the kitchen and pick something out for our breakfast? Your father and I will be in the sunroom."

With a quick glance at Draco for approval, Scorpius nods and runs off, a little unsteady on his feet in all those layers.

"Go on, Draco."

Draco takes a deep breath. "I-I told him I wished he'd died instead."

She winces. "Oh Draco..."

"I know. But I meant it. I still mean. I've thought it every day since."

"I know."

He looks at her in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course." Narcissa knows she has to be careful. Draco is as fragile as his father, and if she wants to piece her family back together, she has to handle each of them cautiously. "But you shouldn't've said it. Especially not to him. How do you think that would make him feel? How did you expect him to react?"

"I don't care how he feels. It's true. And he never takes my feelings into consideration, that much was made quite clear. Consideration has never played much of a part in our relationship."

"But I thought you wanted to be better than him?" says Narcissa slyly. "I thought you wanted to learn from your father's mistakes?"

"Of course I do!"

"And if that is true, then you have to apply it to the way you treat him too. Not just Scorpius. Take the higher road, Draco. Rise above it and show your father that he cannot bring you down to his level." She smiles. "That, I honestly believe, is what Severus would've wanted for you."

And finally finally Draco starts to relax, and she knows he believes her. "I think so too."

"Good boy." She's only been awake for fifteen minutes, but already she feels like she's been dealt with a week's worth of negotiations. Family really is exhausting.

The sunroom is like a greenhouse, made entirely of glass but charmed to keep it cool. Narcissa had added the extension when she and Draco had returned to the Manor several months after Lucius's arrest. The whole house had been in dire need of renovations – it had been as though someone had come in and destroyed everything – and she'd been glad of the project. After the Dark Lord's extended stay, the house no longer felt like home, and she was keen to make it theirs again, to make it a place that someone might want to come home to and stay in. She'd added carpets where there'd been cold, wooden boards and frozen stone slabs, and switched out a lot of the ancient, uncomfortable furniture for pieces that could actually be used. The sunroom she'd included for herself. The Manor was liable to get dark and stay dark, and did not lend itself nicely to a good mood. The sunroom was her place to recharge and relax, where she could look out at the gardens, watch the peacocks play and witness the seasons change. Much more preferable than the little sitting-room Lucius's mother had so kindly told her was hers when she'd first come to live there.

They sit together on one of the small settees looking out towards the West Garden.

"You could be happy here, you know," she says to Draco, "if only you made up your mind to be."

"As easy as that?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes. This is your house. And one day it will be Scorpius's. You must stop treating it like a prison."

"That would be easier if everyone else stopped treating me like a prisoner." Draco reaches for coffee. "You hid the Floo-Powder, didn't you?"

"I had a feeling you might try to disappear again."

"I don't know why you want me here so badly."

"Because you belong here," says Narcissa. "Because I love you. Because, as I say, I believe that you could be happy." She accepts the fragile china cup he offers her and holds it out as he stirs in sugar, first to hers then to his own. "You know that no-one is trying to hurt you, don't you?" she asks softly. "No-one can. You behave as though you're defenseless, but that's not true. No-one is threatening you anymore, Draco. You don't have to be afraid."

"I know that." It surprises her to hear him say it. "I really do know. It's just... I don't know. It's like there are two parts of me – the sensible one who knows there's no reason to be afraid – and the other one who's certain that everything is a threat. And the first part gets angry at the second part for being so stupid, so childish, and that only makes it worse, and it gets to the point where I don't know which one is real and which one isn't, and maybe it's both and maybe it's neither, and I... and I..." Draco shakes his head and swallows hard; coffee rippling in the cup between his hands. "It's stupid," he whispers. "I know it's stupid. And I'm trying, please believe that. It was easier in London, away from here, because there's something about this place that makes that second part of me grow and grow beyond my control. And I don't want to be like that but I don't know how to stop. As soon as I think I'm okay, something happens. With Father or Scorpius or Astoria. It can be anything. Anything unexpected. And it's like I can see myself falling but there's nothing I can do to stop it. There's nothing I can do. Not here. I can't escape myself here."

"Running away won't help."

He winces sharply. "That's not what–"

"Yes, it is." Narcissa does her best to keep her voice low and steady. "You have to be stronger, Draco. You have to fight that stupid part of you. Because it isn't real. Just remember that. Whenever you see yourself slipping, remember it isn't real and fight it. It's all over – all the things you're remembering that bother you – they're done, and they're never going to happen again. You've grown up, the war is over, Yaxley is as good as dead–"

"And Father is here."

"He cannot hurt you."

"It doesn't matter!" His face is wild and upset, trying to make her understand where there is no sense to be had. And he knows it too. And he's ashamed of it. Draco angles away, throat flickering. "It doesn't matter," he says again. "Every time he's near me, every time I think about him, I feel like I'm six years old."

"But you're not!"

"It doesn't matter!" Draco shouts. "You're acting as though there's any logic in it, but there isn't. I know it's ridiculous. I hate it. I do. I wish I could control it but I can't. I can't stop my throat from closing up whenever Father speaks to me, I can't stop flinching when someone touches me, and I can't stop my magic from trying to protect me when Astoria tries to–"

Narcissa stops him quickly. "I don't want to hear about your marital problems, Draco."

"You're not listening." He's gone again, turned back into the second person who has no sense. "Accidental magic is supposed to stop by ten-years-old. But mine came back. Like it thinks I cannot protect myself. It was always hard, always something I knew I didn't want and would never be comfortable with, but– Listen to me!"

But she can't. She can't stand it. This is not a conversation he should be trying to have with her, nor was it one she was willing to encourage. People struggle with sex all the time. It isn't unusual, even if the circumstances are.

Silence falls and she feels Draco draw back in on himself, away from her.

"I know it's stupid," he whispers again.

"Yes. Yes it is. You need to be stronger."

A pause. Then, "I know."

"You need to try harder."

"I know."

"Will you?"

He doesn't say anything, and when she can finally stand to look at him again, the damp on his cheeks glint in the sunlight.

"Draco."

"Yes, Mother."

"Good." She settles back in her seat a little more easily, feeling better. Then, "I'd prefer it if you didn't go back to London for a while. At least a few weeks. You can work here. You need to give yourself a chance to acclimate." He nods unhappily, and Narcissa reaches to squeeze his hand. "I know you can be stronger than this if you try, Draco. I need you to try. Your son needs you to try."

"Yes, Mother."

"I can help you," she continues in a rush of feeling. "Anything I can do to make it easier for you, I want to help."

And the way he looks at her, like he doesn't believe a single syllable coming from her mouth, breaks her heart.

"Draco, I'm sorry." It isn't comfortable feeling like this. She's always pushed away such feelings with her dependable shield of, I did my best. I did what I had to do. I did it because I love you. But, at that moment, the shield is useless. She cannot share it with him, cannot use it to put him back together, and she hates it. "I'm sorry for all of it. I wish I could've done more to help you when you needed it."

Draco's head drops. "I know there's nothing you could've done," he says tonelessly. "I know I'm alive because of you. And I know it's not your fault."

She knows it too. But knowing doesn't make it better for either of them.

As a witch, she has only ever had the power her husband allowed her. Narcissa was lucky with Lucius, he respected her. Most importantly, he loved her. They had always been compatible in a way that was rare amongst the marriages of their peers. She trusted him to make the correct decisions for them, and trusted that he would listen to her if ever she felt the need to redirect. Looking back, she sees places she should've redirected him, should've spoken up, should've tried to contain the temper that used to get him into so much trouble at school. But she trusted him, and in trusting him she became blind.

She never truly saw the tole Lucius's expectations took on Draco. The first time it was brought to her attention that her son was unhappy, that maybe he wasn't being treated properly, was when Severus had confronted them furiously. And she had been as defensive as Lucius. Severus didn't understand. He wasn't a parent. He hadn't been brought up in Wizarding society. He didn't know anything about anything and he had no right to judge them. But then she started to see, started noticing Draco's withdrawal and the subtle stammer he could only control by not speaking at all. And, like Lucius, she put it down to weakness. The boy was too fragile. He had to be made stronger. It was Severus's fault. Not theirs. They were doing the right thing. Doing their best. Doing what their own parents had done. It wasn't their fault it wasn't working on Draco.

It wasn't their fault.

They protected him where he needed protecting from the rest of the world, from everyone who wasn't them because Merlin help anyone who laid a finger on him who wasn't them. She couldn't criticize Lucius, even when she felt deep in her heart that he had gone too far. He was Draco's father. He knew best. Who was she to say otherwise? But others... The tutor she cannot even remember the name of now, the one who arrived after things came to a head with Severus, he had been out of line, and she and Lucius had done what was right and got rid of him. Too late. She shakes the thought from her head. Too late. The damage had already been done and they hadn't seen it in time. Severus had blamed them for that too. They should've seen, they should've noticed, if Draco wasn't so quiet, if Draco wasn't so scared–

It wasn't their fault.

And they'd done their best even when they hadn't the first clue about what to do – because what are you supposed to do when your eight-year-old is assaulted? – and they'd done their best to piece Draco back together and continue on as normal and make life normal again, even if it felt like 'normal' was no longer a feasible concept, when Draco's magic was out of control and he was liable to explode at any given time because he was so frightened and so distrustful of any touch, every touch, and when Severus started teaching at Hogwarts and was gone ten of the twelve months of the year, and his absence was felt by them all, and they couldn't fill the gap in Draco's life, and Draco seemed so angry at them for failing even it wasn't their fault and all they'd done – all they'd ever tried to do – is their best because they love him.

They love him.

Everything they have ever done – her and Lucius – is because they love him.

Hogwarts was the only thing she and Lucius ever seriously disagreed on. He hated that Draco was there –the final insult, the ultimate act of disobedience, and she's not entirely sure that he's ever quite recovered from it – but for Narcissa, once over the shock, it was a joy and a relief to see how much good it did Draco. He finally grew into the boy she had always imagined and wished he could be. Away from the Manor. Away from his father. Away from her.

She finally felt like she could relax, like everything was going to be okay and they had done their best and Draco was okay, and growing into a man she could be proud of and not have to. Even if Lucius wasn't happy, everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Then suddenly it wasn't.

And it was her fault. She should've talked Lucius out of it. She should've insisted he not answer the Mark's call. They could've found protection. They should've found protection. They should've protected Draco. Instead, she stood back and allowed Lucius to ruin all of their lives. And Narcissa has never forgiven either of them – herself or Lucius.

Because suddenly it was more than fending off a half-blood who cared too much and more than the disposal of a man who'd crept in and hurt their son.

It was too much. Voldemort and all the poison he brought into their home was too much, and suddenly Narcissa learnt what it was like to be frightened, and she realised that she didn't know how to fix it.

It was life and death. They had to survive. That was all that mattered. And in surviving they let everything be torn apart. She told herself that it didn't matter as long as they were alive. Just as Lucius had insisted that Draco's broken arm didn't matter because it could be fixed by magic.

But it did matter. It all mattered. And there was nothing she could do but stand by and watch as her husband was taken away and her son was enlisted for a mission no-one ever expected him to succeed. Suicide. And she watched Draco accept it because to refuse meant death and she had already instilled in him the need to survive. And it was becoming more and more impossible and less and less likely, and she watched it all unfold, finally going to Severus – Severus who'd always irritated her– to ask him, to beg him to protect her child.

She would've deserved it if he'd laughed at her. But he didn't. He made the vow for Draco, to protect him in a way that she could not and never had.

Severus did his best, just as he always did his best for the boy who was not his. Even when Draco fought him, because Draco didn't know anything beyond that he had to kill Dumbledore because if he didn't he would die. Their survival was on his shoulders alone.

Narcissa remembers waiting for the news, with Lucius newly returned home and despicable. She remembers hating him, hating him hating him for bringing this into their home. Lucius had faith in Draco – The boy will succeed. He has to. – So ready to be prouder than he'd ever been in Draco's whole life. She remembers her own terror – half praying that Draco couldn't do it because how could she live with herself if her son was killer? And half praying he could because at least then he'd be safe for a little while longer.

She remembers the sound of Apparation, and then Severus was there, grim faced.

And Draco... Draco her son her boy her baby. Locked into Severus's grip, stumbling, almost falling, and haunted.

"What happened?" She'd gone to him and took him from Severus, touching his face and feeling the tears on his cheeks. "What happened?"

She remembers Draco gasp: "I'm sorry. I-I couldn't do it."

And the relief and the fear had almost made her sick. Narcissa held him as she'd never held him before, pulling him tight to her and holding him so close for fear of letting him slip away.

"It's going to be okay," she had whispered to him, so quietly, so secretly she's still not sure if he heard her. There would be hell to pay – and hell they certainly paid – but Draco was alive and not a killer, and they would keep surviving and keep living.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

She told herself that so many times it became a constant mantra in her head. Even when Lucius was cursed, even when their home was ransacked, even when Fenrir Greyback made claims on Draco, and Yaxley intervened and undid all the good and all the healing Draco had managed to claw back. Even she could hear what was going on and saw the toll it took on Draco, saw him fading before her eyes, but at least he was alive. As long as he was alive they could get through this.

Nothing else mattered.

She said it so often it became meaningless until, finally, it turned into a lie.

Draco wasn't supposed to go back to Hogwarts. He was a prisoner there, as they all were. But Snape had influence, somehow still, and somehow he managed to barter Draco back, though Narcissa still doesn't know how he did it. She supposes that Severus managed to convince the Dark Lord that Draco was still useful – even though anyone could see that he had been broken beyond any use at all – and only at Hogwarts could he fulfill his final potential.

Narcissa had never been so thankful for anything in her life, had never loved anyone outside of Lucius and Draco so completely as she loved Snape for getting him out of there. Hogwarts had become a battleground, the frontline of the war, but she knew – she knew, wholly and completely –that as long as Draco was with Severus, he would be safe. Not just alive but safe. Because Severus had always been willing and able to do what she and Lucius couldn't.

They had failed. It was their fault. All the way through from the beginning. They had done their best but their best was worthless.

And Narcissa resolved then and there that they would live through to see the end of it all.

She never told Lucius. It wasn't for him. It was for Draco.

Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?

And when Harry Potter had told her 'yes', it had given her the strength and courage to do what Severus would've done and move the world for Draco.

Too little, too late, but she did her best and she saved them all. She saved her son. She did what she'd set out to do and they'd all survived. She and Lucius and Draco.

Nothing else mattered.

And – finally – she'd thought that their troubles were over. Lucius was in Azkaban, and the house was being fixed up, and Draco was with her. Draco was safe.

She hadn't been prepared for the aftermath. She hadn't expected him to still be broken seven years later.

And Narcissa doesn't know what to do.

Tell me what to do.

Severus would know. He was better at this than she is, better with Draco. She wishes he were here now.

"I know he would be proud of you," she says, and Draco's eyes flick up – softer, more blue than his Lucius's grey.

"Really?"

"Yes." She knows it absolutely. "You have grown into a good man. A good father. That's all he wanted for you."

"That's not what Father says."

"You should know better than to pay mind to anything your father says."

This, at the very least, makes Draco smile. He ducks his head. "I suppose I got used to him not being here. I'm not used to him anymore."

"You always cared too much about what your father thought of you."

"I thought you said I always cared too little?"

Narcissa makes a noncommittal motion. "You were determined to clash but you hated to disappoint him. Even when you fought for something you wanted, on the rare occasion when you actually got it, it wasn't what you wanted because you'd disappointed him. I think you clashed more with yourself than with him, and that really is saying something."

Draco bobs his head in reluctant agreement.

"He could never be what you wanted him to be, Draco," Narcissa tells him gently.

"I know."

"I know you know. But you didn't know then. You wanted him to be like Severus. But it's not in his nature. It wouldn't've been possible."

"I know, Mother." His voice is clipped with irritation, not wanting to talk about it. "That's why I'm uncomfortable with him being around Scorpius. Because I know what he's like and I know he can't be anything else.

"Ah, but I think that's different."

"How?" Draco demands. "How is it different?"

"Lucius isn't responsible for Scorpius's outcome as he was for yours. There is less pressure. He has the liberty to enjoy Scorpius for who is without the need to try and mold him into something else as he did to you. I think he could surprise you, Draco."

"I'd rather not take that risk," says Draco curtly. Then every bit of him lights up, and Narcissa twists to see Scorpius himself running up to them, grinning his wonderful, unrestrained grin, and brandishing an envelope in Draco's face. "What's this?" Draco asks, and it's like he's a completely different person. His best self, Narcissa thinks, watching them with warmth in her heart as Scorpius climbs up into Draco's lap. There is no greater joy in her life than seeing them together.

Once they're settled, with Scorpius lying easily against Draco's chest, Draco turns the envelope over in his hands, a subtle frown creasing his features to see it addressed to Scorpius, and they open it together.

Narcissa waits patiently, watching her grandson's poorly contained excitement as Draco reads once, then twice, and folds the letter back up with a soft shake of the head. Scorpius twists around at once to look at his father.

A series of hand gestures; Draco's apologetic and Scorpius's becoming increasingly urgent then distressed. Then Scorpius jumps up, upset and signs angrily.

"I'm sorry," Draco tells him. "It's not a good time. I'm sorry Scorp– Scorpius!"

But the boy's already snatched the letter back out of Draco's fingers and he's off, stomping at a furiously fast pace, and when Draco makes to go after him, he runs.

Draco sits back and runs his fingers through his hair, looking at his son's retreating back helplessly.

"Can I ask?" Narcissa asks.

"A birthday invitation," Draco responds faintly. "He made a friend of Potter's boy."

"That's... nice."

"No," says Draco. "No it isn't. It's awful. He's a terrible influence, and Scorpius has become so attached."

"The friendships one makes at this age are important," Narcissa points out. "What about your friends?" She remembers them all as they used to be Draco and Theodore Nott, Parkinson's middle girl and that Zabini boy. Such a serious group of children. They would endure until the enf.

"But does he have to be friends with that boy?" Draco grimaces and shakes his head. "If he goes, I'll have to go with him and I'll have to talk to Potter."

She arches an eyebrow with a soft smirk. "Would that really be so awful?"

"Oh stop it."

Of all the changes in all the world, Narcissa thinks that this is the one that Draco struggles with the most – the not-being-sworn-childhood-nemeses-with-Harry-Potter one. She smiles.

"I think you would like him, Draco, if you gave him a chance."

"And we're done here." Draco rises. "Thank you for the coffee. And the chat."

She stands with him. "What have you decided?"

Draco pauses, hands pushed into the pockets of his black trousers. He looks so much like Lucius, she thinks. And so different too. So much himself.

Then he glances to her, head tilted tentatively. "You'll help me?"

All her fears rush out of her in a breath that makes her lightheaded. "I'll do my best," she promises.

"Don't push me anymore," Draco warns. "You say that Father needs time, but I do too."

"I know." She touches his arm. "I understand. We must all be patient with one another."

He gives a weak smile, and nods. "I can do that."

Scorpius Malfoy storms through the Manor with Albus's letter clutched tight in his fist, blinded by fury.

It isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't fair!

Just because his dad doesn't want to do anything ever, doesn't mean he has any right to keep Scorpius from doing anything ever too. And it was already the worst because he'd already been dragged away from London and his friends and the game that he'd been so eager to continue, so really it was only fair that he gets to go to the party, especially because he's never been to a birthday party before and this is his first invitation and Albus will be angry if he doesn't go and he won't like Scorpius anymore and then they won't be friends anymore and it isn't fair!

He aims a brutal kick at the nearest bit of wall and pain floods hot through his foot and up to send burning tears into his eyes.

Not fair.

"Scorpius Hyperion."

He falls backwards to his grandfather looking down at him upside-down and decide that the world looks better upside-down. He's still not sure what he thinks about his grandfather, who seemed nice yesterday then mean and is a Death-Eater and his dad doesn't like him but seemed to like Scorpius until he called him 'deficient'.

His grandfather tilts his head. "Why are you lying on the ground and kicking the wall?" Then he bends to take the crumpled letter Scorpius thrusts out at him, and he reads it as seriously and slowly as his father did.

"A birthday," he muses out loud. "A Potter birthday party. Harry Potter's son?"

Scorpius nods.

"A friend of yours?"

He nods again.

"And I suppose your father isn't a fan?"

Scorpius shakes his head, rolling over and scrambling up, wondering how his grandfather is so good at guessing.

"I didn't think so." Lucius offers him an arm, and lifts him up when Scorpius accepts, air whooshing in his ears. He's pretty sure his grandfather is taller than Draco. He's definitely higher up now than when his dad lifts him. "Potters and Malfoys are not commonly friends, did you know that?"

Scorpius scowls and signs furiously, That's not fair. We are friends. So there.

"You're telling me that's not right?"

He nods fervently.

"I see." Lucius settles him more comfortably in his arms and carries him back down through the Manor. "Maybe you're right," he says. "The world is changing fast. So you want to go to this party but your father says no and that's why you're angry."

Yes, Scorpius signs around his grandfather's neck, hoping that he could and might and will override Draco and say he can go. It's not fair. And there's a game we're playing that we need to finish and I'm his best friend so I have to be there. It's the law.

But Lucius doesn't understand him. "It's important to obey your father, Scorpius Hyperion," he says in the same way Grandmother tells him the same thing. "Even if you don't agree with him. Even if you think the rules are wrong. Even if you think he is wrong."

Scorpius grits his teeth and lays his head on his grandfather's shoulder. He did think it was wrong and stupid and unfair.

"Then again," Lucius muses, sort of sounding like he's talking to himself, "as long as you aren't caught, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't go. No doubt Harry Potter possesses his own fireplace. You know how to use the Floo Network, presume? I believe your father could be distracted for a few hours if you are truly set on going. I think it would be good for you to socialize. And just because Draco is woefully introverted, doesn't mean you should be too."

Exactly. Scorpius grins so hard his face aches. And it wouldn't even be his fault if Draco found out and got angry because his grandfather said he could go and his grandfather is in charge. No-one says it out loud, but he can tell by the way everyone is acting and the way everything is different. He's seen people like this before, sometimes grownups at the Ministry and sometimes kids his own age at Miss Winters'. Age doesn't matter. It's the way they stand and the way the move, and how the whole world seems to move around them instead of the other way around. That how his grandfather is. And if he's carrying Scorpius, then the world is moving for him too.

Scorpius thinks he quite likes that.

"We should probably avoid mentioning it to Draco, though," his grandfather continues with a secret smile on his mouth that he's offering to share. "He is so very easily upset, and I think you've been in trouble enough recently."

Scorpius flushes. That's true. He feels like he's constantly in trouble for things that aren't even anything to do with him. He doesn't want his dad to be upset with him anymore. It's tempting to just forget the whole thing and give up in the party. But he really really really wants to go. And maybe if he's got his grandfather on his side, it'll be easier to get away with it. Anyway, it would just be for maybe an hour. Draco probably even notice that he's gone.

"Our secret?" says his grandfather, offering a hand.

Scorpius looks at it, bites his lip, then shakes it.

Our secret.

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