Hey! This was written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) Magical Theory: The Magic of Love Task 1 - Write about a character putting themself in harm's way to protect someone they love.

Warnings: Canon character death, mild language

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; all rights go to J. K. Rowling.

"You're never around!" Scorpius shouted, tears streaming down his face. "All you care about is that stupid school. If you're not working at your office, then you're meeting with some snobby executive to try and raise more money to build it. I get that this is important, Dad, I do, but all I want is to see you from time to time! Can't we take an hour or two out of each week to hang out together?"

Draco clenched his fist and grit his teeth, heart aching. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Scorpius sobbed as he continued. "I've been your son for sixteen years and I don't know anything about you. I couldn't even tell you what your favorite color was."

Draco reached out a hand tentatively toward Scorpius. "Scorpius, hold on—"

Scorpius staggered backwards out of his reach. "No, Dad. I can't wait any more. I'm sorry, but I can't."

Draco watched his son, the only family he had left, leave the room. Draco sat down in the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. He dreaded the day he'd be leaving instead of Scorpius.

17 years ago

"Draco," Astoria sighed, one hand resting on her pregnant stomach, "you don't need to worry so much. We'll figure it out."

Draco shook his head and clutched the quill in his hand tightly. "If I don't get this position, Astoria, we won't have enough money to support the baby." He slammed his palm on his desk in frustration. "I can't believe my father waited until you were pregnant to announce my disinheritance! How could he be so cruel to his only grandchild?"

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. "We can't do anything about that now, Draco. We just have to trust that we'll be able to do what's best for our son. We don't need to be rich, darling. We just need to be able to get by."

"But we can't get by on my current salary. I've asked Mr. Crouch for a raise, but he's refused, even given the circumstances."

"Barty Crouch is not known for being very generous," Astoria reminded him gently. "He wouldn't pay anyone a raise in your situation, so try not to take it too personally."

"I need to win this seat in Parliament," Draco whispered, looking over his shoulder to meet his wife's eyes. "I need to."

Astoria cupped Draco's face. "You need to face whatever the outcome is head on. If that means a position in Parliament, great! But if that means that you continue to work under Mr. Crouch, then we'll work with that, too. I can do the laundry of some of the men on the street if I have to, and we can always sell some of the things we don't need. I think, Draco, that you'll find we don't need as much as you think we do to get by."

And in that moment, Draco had decided to trust her.

But it didn't last.

As the months got colder, Astoria, who was always susceptible to illnesses, got sicker. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with her, but they did tell Draco that she wasn't likely to recover. Overwhelmed with grief and desperation, Draco spared no expense on her care. He got every doctor he could afford to come look at Astoria—and even some he couldn't afford. Despite all the medicines, herbal remedies, and loving, devoted care Draco gave Astoria, she didn't get better.

As the baby's due date got closer, Draco lost more and more hope.

A week before his child was to be born, there came a knock on the door.

Haggard and weary, drowning in his despair, Draco Malfoy opened the door to see a beautiful young woman standing there.

"Yes?" he asked tiredly. His mother would be appalled at his manners and his terrible slouched posture, but Draco couldn't find it in himself to care about most things these days, much less propriety.

The woman regarded him coolly. She had rich brown eyes that perfectly matched her brown hair. From her clothing, Draco would guess she was a lower middle class citizen. "You're Draco Malfoy, correct?"

He nodded. "Yes, I am."

She stuck out a hand, which he instinctively grabbed to shake. "It's my understanding," the woman began slowly, "that your wife is pregnant and very sick, and you've gotten yourself into a boatload of debt trying—in vain—to heal her."

Draco snatched his hand away. "What, exactly, is the point of this?" he asked angrily. "And who are you?"

The woman continued as though he hadn't spoken, but the slight curve to her lips let Draco know she was enjoying this encounter far too much. "I've also heard that you're running for a seat in Parliament. Hmm," she hummed, tapping one finger to the side of her chin in thought, "that certainly would help with all of your expenses. Doctors and babies are expensive, after all."

"I'd like you to leave," Draco told her firmly, putting one hand on the door's edge to shut it.

"I'd wait a moment, if I were you."

There was a hard edge to the woman's tone, one that Draco didn't like at all. "What do you want?" he snapped.

The woman glanced around before leaning forward slightly. "My name," she whispered, "is Pansy Parkinson."

The breath caught in Draco's throat, and his knuckles whitened against the door as he gripped it more tightly. Anyone who was anyone had heard of the Parkinsons, and Draco had definitely been someone before he gave it all up to marry Astoria. The Parkinsons lived at the edge of town, in the midst of the woods. No one knew exactly what they did in the woods, but there had always been rumors of witchcraft. Going by the sharp, cold, calculating look in Pansy's eyes, Draco decided that he wouldn't write off witch just yet.

She smiled, and Draco knew that she was aware of his sudden dread. "I'm not going to turn you into a frog, if that's what you're worried about."

He swallowed thickly. "What are you doing here, then?"

Pansy stepped forward, uncomfortably close to him. "May I come in?" she asked sweetly, looking Draco up and down.

"I think it would be best if we continued this conversation outside, actually, Ms. Parkinson." He wanted to keep this woman as far away from Astoria and his unborn child as he could.

"Very well," she acquiesced, stepping back so Draco had enough room to join her on the stoop. When he had shut the door behind himself, Pansy said, "I have a problem, Mr. Malfoy, and I need someone in the government to solve it for me."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm merely a clerk at the moment, Ms. Parkinson. I can bring your request to Mr. Crouch, but that's about it."

She shook her head at him impatiently. "Barty Crouch would never help me. His son had a close brush with witchcraft once, you know. Never the same. No, I need you, Mr. Malfoy, specifically. No one else has quite the reputation for hard, diligent work that you do. When you want something done, it gets done. I need that kind of dedication if I want to live to see the changes I want made. Simply put, I need you in Parliament."

"Well...I look forward to your support, Ms. Parkinson."

Draco was shocked when she had the audacity to huff and roll her eyes impatiently at him. "I didn't come here to let you know I was going to vote for you," she snapped. "I came here to offer you a deal."

As if his body could sense the danger, his heart started pounding in his chest and Draco suddenly found breathing rather difficult. "What sort of deal?" he asked breathlessly.

"I can grant you one life, Mr. Malfoy. Your wife is going to die, and your child is going to die with her. I'm giving you the opportunity to save one of them."

Draco recoiled. "I'm not choosing between my wife and son!"

Pansy shrugged. "Then they'll both die. Suit yourself. But, should you decide to let me save one, I can also influence a few people with some magic, guarantee that you'll win your seat in Parliament."

"If you want me in Parliament, why would you ask me for my permission?"

"It would take a lot of work on your part," Pansy replied, "and I'm not going to waste my magic on someone who isn't willing to help me in return."

Images of the bills collecting on the kitchen table and his empty pockets filled Draco's mind. He knew, deep in his bones, that what Pansy was telling him was the truth; Astoria and his child were going to die. He'd avoided admitting it to himself for so long, but he was going to go bankrupt soon if he kept giving himself false hope. Here Pansy was now, offering him a chance to save one of them. But how could he choose? How could he pick one of their lives over the other in good conscience?

But how on earth could he refuse?

"What would you have me do?" he asked softly, staring at his shoes.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "I want you to build a school, Draco Malfoy. I want there to be a school for witches like me, and I want it to be built just beyond the edge of the forest."

Draco's mouth fell open. "No one would agree to that! They're more likely to burn witches than to let them be educated!"

"I never said it would be an easy task, Mr. Malfoy. I simply said you were the person to do it."

"But why? Why this, why me?" Draco asked desperately.

"Because," the witch responded, "you're desperate, Mr. Malfoy, and desperate people can accomplish great feats."

At the moment, it was a preposterous proposal. But with time, with enough dedication and work, Draco thought he might be able to at least catalyze the change she wanted. "I want to save my baby," he told her quietly, "but what you're asking for will take time. A whole lifetime, perhaps. I can promise," he added quickly, seeing the displeasure on her face, "that I will do everything I can to start the change, put it in motion."

Pansy scowled. "I don't have a lifetime. But," she continued thoughtfully, "perhaps we can arrange something else. I'll give you until your son's eighteenth birthday. If the school is not built by then, I will take the life I gave you back."

Draco's blood ran cold. "No, I won't tell you to save my child just to have you take him away. I refuse."

Brown eyes regarded him thoughtfully. "And what if I didn't take the baby's life? What if I took yours instead?"

Draco bit his lip. "And...my child...he—or she—would be safe? Would get to live a long, healthy life?"

"I guarantee it," Pansy breathed.

"I'll do it," Draco whispered, ignoring the beating of his heart. "Save my baby, give me the power, and I'll build you a school. You can take my life if I fail to do so in eighteen years."

"Do we have a deal?" Pansy asked, holding out her hand. It might have been Draco's imagination, but he thought it seemed to be glowing dimly.

It didn't deter him. "We have a deal." He shook her hand.

Present Day

Draco knocked on the door to his son's room. "Scorpius?" he called softly. There was a muffled sniffle from behind the door. Draco's heart clenched. "May I come in?"

There was no response, so Draco cautiously pushed the door open. Scorpius was lying on his back on the bed, face twisted and tears streaming down his face. Draco sat down gingerly on the bed. Hesitantly, Draco reached forward and settled a hand on his son's ankle. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Scorpius turned his head to look at him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, too. I just feel like we never spend any time together, Dad. I want to be a part of your life."

Reaching out with his free hand to brush some of the hair off of his son's forehead, Draco said fervently, "You, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, are the most important part of my life." He swallowed. "I'd sacrifice my own life for you any day of the week." He squeezed Scorpius' ankle. "I'd do anything for you. Scorpius, I...I haven't been completely honest with you."

Scorpius shot a quizzical gaze his way. "What do you mean?"

Tears pricked at his eyes, but Draco refused to let them fall. "When your mother was pregnant with you, she was very sick. I was just a clerk back then, but I did everything I could to help her get better, but nothing worked and she never did. The happiest days of her life, Scorpius, were the three days she spent in the hospital holding you before she died. They were the happiest of my life, too. We were so happy that you were born healthy. But...I made a deal to make sure you were, Scorp." Draco took a shuddering breath. "I was desperate, in debt, and I had no idea what the future would bring. Before you were born, a witch approached me. She offered to make sure I got a government position so I could pay off my debts and take care of you. She...You were both going to die if I didn't take her deal, Scorpius, and when she offered to save one of you in exchange for building that damn school in eighteen years, I jumped at the chance to save you. How could I not? You're my son."

Scorpius' eyes were wide. "You picked me over Mom?"

Draco nodded. "It broke my heart to have to pick one of you, but it was always a clear choice. Your mom never would have forgiven me if I picked her, and neither would I."

Scorpius was silent, and Draco let him absorb all the new information. At last, he asked, "What do you mean you have eighteen years? What happens if the witch school isn't built?"

Draco met his son's eyes, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I'll die."

Scorpius shot up. "What?"

Draco fought to remain calm. "If I don't build that school, the witch will take back a life in exchange for the one she saved. I bartered my own."

Draco felt awful as he watched Scorpius' eyes well up with tears. "You can't die," he wailed. "Dad, you can't—I can't lose you, too!"

Eyes burning, Draco said, "I don't want you to. Scorpius, love, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen. I'm going to build that school, and we're going to be okay. Okay?"

The tears were streaming steadily down Scorpius' face now. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you for working too much."

Draco felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn't have the will to chastise himself for it right then. "Come here," he said, opening his arms. Scorpius launched himself forward and clung to Draco tightly. Draco brought up a hand to card through his son's hair. "You're right that I haven't been spending enough time with you," he whispered into his son's hair. "I've been worried lately about finishing this. We're so close, Scorpius, but we need just a little bit more funding, and I need to convince just a couple more key people that this is a good idea, and then I'll be all yours, forever. I regret losing so much time with you, but I could never regret having you. Forgive me, please," he begged, voice breaking.

"I love you so much, Dad." Scorpius' voice was slightly muffled, and Draco chuckled wetly.

"I love you, too, Scorpius." He pressed a gentle kiss to Scorpius' head.

Scorpius looked up at him. "I'm going to help you build that school, Dad."

"You don't—"

"Yes, I do, and I will." There was a determined glint in Scorpius' eyes that reminded Draco of himself, and he smiled.

"Okay. Let's go."

6 months later

"And now, I'd like to declare Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry officially open!" Draco cut the red ribbon, smiling as it fluttered to the ground. All of the stress and anxieties he'd carried over the years seemed to float down off his shoulders with it, and for the first time in eighteen years, Draco felt free.

He looked up and made eye contact with a woman, still beautiful but not quite so young, and she smiled at him and nodded her head. Draco nodded back, recognizing the end of their transaction for what it was. Then he looked into the gathered crowd and met a different pair of eyes, grey ones, full of pride and excitement.

Draco smiled as he elbowed his way to his son. Not sparing the school a single glance, Draco wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders and began to lead him back into town. "Would you care to join me for the rest of the afternoon?"

Scorpius grinned at him. "What will we be doing?"

Draco looked back at him. "Nothing. Everything. Let's see where life takes us."

"I like the sound of that."

"Oh, and Scorpius?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I'm quitting."

Scorpius' laugh rang clear, and Draco thought to himself that he would be happy if he heard it everyday for the rest of his life.