Author's note: This chapter is told from Scorpius' perspective.


"Spit it out, Scorpius," Father said, after one lap of the Black Lake.

He touched my shoulder. Was that Father-subtlety for a hug?

I didn't want one.

I shook him off.

"Fine," he growled. "You played well," he said, for the fifth time. "I am proud of you." He looked me directly in the eye. The summer sun gave his grey eyes a glint.

I don't care, I replied, mentally. I focused on Father's limp and how his black cloak trailed behind him. Would it have killed him to wear a blue or a bright green? Father ever changed for anyone, not even fashion.

"You've given my robes a new life," he said. "I remembered when I was your age, the most 'accomplished' I ever was on the quidditch pitch was when I dressed up as a dementor to torment Potter. I sat on Marcus Flint's shoulders and got a Patronus charm into the face. Of course, Potter could cast one."

"Mother sent you, didn't she?" I chewed the inside of my cheek. I had heard that story before from Mother, not from Father, he didn't talk much about Hogwarts.

Father sighed. "I'm here now that's what matters. I stopped you being assaulted by filth- don't give me that look. If your mother was here she would've hexed anyone who would insult or dare lay a hand on her precious son. Scorpius, I had to act whether you liked it or not." he said, coldly.

"I can protect myself," I matched his tone.

Father didn't reply to that, instead, he said, sourly.

"Your mother and I are still a mockery in the pureblood community. You know once the Malfoy name was considered too good for a Greengrass but now…" he trailed off. "Maybe even a half-blood-"

"Or a Weasley," I finished, holding my breath, my heart sped up. I waited for the snap but it didn't come.

"Or a Weasley," he repeated, considering the words. "Apparently you're now, to quote Gregory Goyle, a muggle-lover."

I could feel the tips of my ears grow pink. Old habits die hard. "What's not to like?"

"Watch the tone, son," he said, sharply. "Your ginger girlfriend was hard enough to talk to about current issues. Though I must admit, it was nice to talk about draughts with someone who understands their complex nature."

"You were talking to Rose?"

"She's making it her mission to get me on her side," Father said, his tone not giving away anything.

I felt my lips twitch, that was Rosie alright.

"Maybe your mother was right, she usually is, we'll worry about the rest later. You're young, I just don't want you making mistakes that will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Father, I know I'm not making a mistake," I said. "I was angry all the time with the Slytherins but with the Ravenclaws… I'm just happy. They don't want anything from me or expect me to do anything for them. Rose isn't using me."

Father nodded in response, gripping his cane tighter.

"Why are you being so… nice?" I had to ask.

Maybe getting 'essence of death' spilt on his leg transformed him. Back to the before-I-went-to-Hogwarts-Father. The one that would bring me into his study and try to teach me simple potions. He'd tell me to stir the caldron or organise the ingredients in order of use. He spoke to me gently even one time when I spilt a bottle of very expensive and slimy beetle-slugs across his desk. He didn't even yell, he just pulled a face, patted me on the back and told me, 'at least you won't make that mistake when it really matters.'

"That Weasley girl isn't her parents and she has endless amounts of nice things to say about you. So 'what's not to like.'"

I beamed. "Her moods are quite infectious."

"Just stick with the Slytherins, Scorpius, and you'll be alright."

I nodded. At least I had that glimmer of hope.

Father suddenly frowned. "Though I think your mother had far too much hope. I dare say she wouldn't be able to sit in a room with your friends for more than ten minutes. I have a higher tolerance for annoying than she has."

I sighed. A small glimmer of hope. "Rose is just eager," I said, and suddenly felt better. I had defended my own girlfriend to my father in a normal conversation. Maybe I was a better person than I was at the start of the year.

Father stopped walking. He narrowed his eyes at a figure strutting towards us. Professor Crepsley, head of Slytherin house, my defence teacher and all around a-hole.

"Draco Malfoy," Crepsley gave a lopsided smile to my father. He held out his hand and shook my fathers. For a blissful minute, I thought I was invisible. "How is Astoria?"

"Quite good," Father replied. "You're timing is wonderful. I am also here to inquire about Scorpius' classes. His grades are, as you know, of utmost importance to me."

I fought back a scowl. I wondered if my father was emotionally blind or deaf?

"Problems with boggarts..."

I flushed red.

"But something yourself and Astoria have pulled through. Study's required and perhaps a stronger stomach. I imagine Scorpius has told you all about it."

Father shot me the strangest look. "Yes, he has." Father lied.

"That is not why I was required to rush over here." Crepsley dropped his friendly smile. "As requested from the headmistress you must leave the grounds immediately. Complaints have been launched."

"I wonder by who," Father said, sarcastically. "I'll leave because I respect you but only after I say goodbye to my son."

"Of course, thank you." Crepsley nodded. He turned on his heel and headed back towards the castle.

Father's hand was suddenly gripping my shoulder. "Boggart?"

I scowled. "Nothing you have to worry-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he suddenly sounded angry. "Scorpius, if something's wrong you must tell me immediately."

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. "We're not doing boggarts anymore."

"Scorpius, I don't care." His eyes were wide. "One could be on your exam and you will be revisiting them for the NEWTs."

I bit the inside of my mouth hard.

"I'm going to assume the Pollycolly missing from my stores wasn't taken by your mother."

"Father, I'm fine." I almost hissed.

He gripped both my shoulders in response. "Scorpius, tell me now. I promise you'll feel better if you tell me what has happened."

"No, I won't."

Father sighed. "Listen to me. I understand. I couldn't go near a boggart for a long time after what happened, happened. And your mother… she still calls me to deal with boggarts."

My eyebrows rose. "I thought nothing happened to Mother during the war."

"Never ask me or your mother what happened to her. You'll never need to know and that is a privilege." He looked me sternly in the eye, unflinching. "Don't assume you know everything," he said. It was more of a warning than a gentle lesson.

I nodded. I stared at the grass waiting for him to leave me alone. I wasn't going to tell. Father would eventually give up, he always did. The vials stuffed under my mattress didn't matter, they were empty now and didn't exist.

Father's breath caught. "You're probably running low." He hesitated before saying. "I'll send you more." he dropped his hand. "Write to me when you are ready to tell me."

I'll never be ready to tell you.

"My mind's open." I stepped back.

A flicker of hurt crossed Father's face, or maybe that was just my imagination making him mundane.

"I know what's best for you, Scorpius Malfoy." he scowled at me. "Don't you dare doubt me, as your father, for a second. Speaking to me like that won't win you points."

"Sorry, Father," I replied, automatically.

"Good," he said, his tone still pinched. "I shall see you in a couple of weeks then."

We stood, not so awkwardly, together. My father wasn't about to hug me or say I love you and that was perfect. There would be something very off if he broke his stiff act.

"Summer," I replied, mentally wishing Hogwarts was a year-round school. In a couple of weeks, I would be sitting in a slightly warmer Malfoy Manor watching the wallpaper curl for three months. Grandmother and Dinky could only fill so many hours of the day. And I knew for a fact, Father wasn't going to let me out of his sight, home alone or out alone this summer. He was still angry about the Rose incident. He didn't say anything about it now, it radiated off him and made everyone within twelve feet uncomfortable.

"I'll walk with you," I said, my voice came out as uncertain. Would he actually send me those vials of Pollycolly or would he 'forget'?

Father nodded, setting off slower than usual. We walked in silence until the gates of Hogwarts came into sight.

"The last time I was here… I was nineteen." Father murmured, more to himself than me.

"Thanks for coming, Father." I rubbed the back of my neck.

"It has been an enlightening trip. I see something's stay exactly the same."

I winced.

He frowned. "You're causing a lot of stress. We have three months to talk about that."

"Yes, Father." I fought back a sigh. I just wanted to get on with this painful encounter.

The gate creaked open as Father approached. He turned to me through the shut gates.

"Expect the package by my owl before tonight." He said. There was a soft snap and he was gone, leaving me staring at the spot where he had stood. I unclipped my quidditch cloak, it was suddenly too hot. I threw the cloak over my arm, folding it so the 'Malfoy' name didn't stare up at me.

I wasn't some native Gryffindor.


Author's note: Oh my God, chapter 100. Thank you, readers! Your support has made this happen! In honour of chapter 100 details about the ISLYBID related (coming soon) story shall be spilt: Draco/Astoria, romance, set at Hogwarts during Draco's seventh year. As always not Cursed Child related (I will continue to ignore that play's existence).

Thank you again! Let's hope we see chapter 200...