Draco spent another long restless evening staring at the painting of Astoria that hung in the library. He missed her so very much. She always seemed to know how to get him to see the way forward in whatever endeavour he was undertaking. And now she was gone.
"Why did you have to leave me!?" Draco said to the portrait in frustration.
Her image only smiled, put one finger to her lips and whispered: "I have not left you, Draco. I live in your heart. And in our son. You will find the way. You always do."
Draco turned back to the stack of notebooks and sheaves of parchment on the long library table. This potion would secure the fortunes of the family for generations — "if only I could get the damn thing to coalesce properly!" he shouted to himself in frustration.
He reviewed the complex lists of ingredients. He knew it lacked something, and he knew it's nature. But its shape eluded him during the day and taunted his dreams at night. He double checked his arithmancy. Impeccable. He reviewed the directions and the flow sheets. Perfect in every way. He reviewed his notes on all six hundred and ninety-nine previous — and failed — attempts to get the potion to work right.
He noticed that his first hundred and twenty some attempts were really shots in the dark. He'd started working on it during his fifth year at Hogwarts, but left it for some years. Sometimes he wished he could consult with Severus, but ... But then came Astoria into his life. The war was done and people on both sides sort of settled down into getting on with life. His years with Astoria were truly wonderful; and when little Scorpius was born, he felt a completion in his heart that he never thought he would attain. She had helped him work out all seven of the basic components of the potion. And then Astoria was torn from him. He was alone. For a while he descended into a kind of madness, almost like what he went through his last year at Hogwarts. But finding the little notes that Astoria would leave for him in his notebooks and recalling his duty and his love for Scorpius had brought him back from that brink.
The last two hundred or so attempts had all been mirror images of one another. The seven components have all been perfectly composed into a single whole. Yet it lacked one ingredient, a sort of ruling ingredient, one that would bind it into a unified and homogeneous composition. He knew the mysterious and undiscovered ingredient was something organic. But... plant? or animal? or something of both?
He tossed his quill onto the table. He smiled in spite of his inner turmoil. Not a quill, he thought; but a pen. He picked it up. A piece of muggle ingenuity. Growing up, he'd never even heard of such a thing. Anyway, his father would have excoriated him for even touching such a dirty thing. But the reality was that he and Astoria had determined not to raise Scorpius as a blood purist or a muggle hater. She took to the project wholeheartedly and had actually gone into muggle London and went shopping in muggle shops. Her sister Daphne, of course, fully approved; but he was certain Mother would never condone a Greengrass stooping so low as to "go shopping", let alone in muggle shops! This was about four years ago, she had just gotten pregnant and wanted the baby to be exposed to some muggle things.
She'd brought home this curious kind of quill — the muggles call it a "biro". A simple device, really. Just click this little silver doo-dad at one end and somehow the nib with its (nearly) inexhaustible ink pops out the other end. Draco, in spite of his initial reservations, became utterly fascinated. He remembered clicking the little doo-dad for fifteen minutes. He stopped only when he realised he must look very much like old Mr Weasley in his workshop. But perhaps Arthur was on to something. This "biro" thing was clearly superior to any kind of quill wizards had been using for centuries. It was almost magical! And then she brought home a muggle wireless! Now that was heaven! It would actually pick up more than just the one wizarding broadcast the magical wireless could get. He found he could get all sorts of news and music on it. At last he could listen to proper music; swearing he would vomit if he had to hear Celestina Warbeck warble her way through one more inane song. It even picked up the wizarding channels if you hit it in the right spot!
Astoria had also brought home some muggle foods. Many of them came packaged in this disgusting slippery material. He remembered from muggle studies that this was called "plastic". But what was inside! The foods inside were pure joy! One of the bags of plastic was orange and after discovering that the bag didn't have to be squeezed to the point of explosion, and after levitating all the curious little orange nuggets into a more convenient bowl, Draco Malfoy instantly found himself hooked. He never told Astoria this, but whenever he went down to London to visit the Minister, he would always take the time to venture out into muggle London to find the shops that sold this salty snack called "Cheetahs". One time, he even stayed at the Cauldron over night, just so he could indulge in the cheesy and salty crunchiness of all four bags he had bought!
His reverie was broken when he realised that little Scorpius was nowhere to be seen in the library! Draco wasn't panicked or anything. He was probably off playing with Harry, their house elf. All the same, it was getting late in the evening and he would have to get his son up to bed for a bit of reading and snuggle time. Astoria had once dredged up this horrible muggle thing called a "Tally Tuba" or something. Draco was all for ensuring that his son didn't grow up in the same discriminating environment he himself had; but he drew the line at muggle insanity. They had read a couple "Tella Tuba" books intended for children and Draco became convinced that being subjected to the cruciatus curse would be far preferable. They would have to more carefully study any muggle book or artifact they brought into the Manor.
As he stepped out of the library in search of Scorpius, Draco felt a slight tremor rumble up through the floor. He could feel a breeze waft through the halls and he could sense that a great work of magic had just been done inside the house. He smiled broadly. Little Scorpius is the precocious one! Magic at three years old and pretty strong at that!
As he descended to the man level, he spotted a curious orange object over by the arched opening that led down to the cellars and the old dungeons. Probably one of Scorpius's Lego blocks. Now, Legos were something that Draco wholeheartedly endorsed from the muggle world. They obviously unlocked a deep sense of curiosity and creativity in their son, and he vowed to obtain every package of Legos he could find in the shops. Ah, but no! It was not a Lego block at all — it was too small. In fact, as he looked more closely, it turned out to be — Draco lifted it up to his outstretched fingers — a Cheetah!
"Scorpis Hyperion Malfoy!" Drat. The little bugger had somehow gotten into daddy's secret stash of salty muggle snacks! He saw another bit of Cheetah — no, he corrected himself. He always mixed the name up. It was Cheetos. Not Cheetahs. He grunted. There was another one on the brink of the stairway, and some of the magically addictive cheese dust around it. "Scorpius!"
He went down the long stone stair and as he rounded the turn in the hallway that opened into his potions lab — a much better use for the space than the dungeons of old — Draco heard a muted sound; though whether of laughter or of sobbing he couldn't tell for the door was closed. Scorpius! He dashed into the laboratory, hoping not to find his precious son injured or ill.
And there he was! Scorpius had shoved some boxes over towards the long work table and had gotten up on top. His little mouth and face were covered in orange cheese dust and his fingers were caked with the stuff. Bits of Cheetos and dust were all along the ancient stone floor. A queer sort of glow emanated from the small brass cauldron Scorpius was sitting next to. Draco's heart fell: it was his most recent attempt to progress his potion work. He hoped Scorpius hadn't gotten into it for it was yet unstable and he could not be certain what effect the incomplete potion would have on the boy. He was momentarily torn between checking the cauldron and checking his son; but of course, his son won out!
Scorpius was laughing: "Dada! Look! I make magic!"
Draco crossed the huge space swiftly, and took his son up into his arms. "Scorpius! You were very naughty to steal from Daddy's snacks, you know that, right?"
"Es, Daddy."
"You know that all you have to do is ask Daddy, and if it won't spoil our dinner, we'll share a snack, right?"
"Es, Daddy. Share snack!"
"Promise Daddy you'll not do this again?"
"Promise, Daddy."
"You know I love you, Scorpius."
"Es! Love Daddy too!"
"Alright, then. Tell Daddy how you made magic?"
"There." Scorpius pointed to the brass cauldron. "I put magic dust into the bowl."
"Cauldron. It's called a cauldron."
Scorpius looked up at his father and considered this soberly. "I put magic dust into the cauldron. It stank. Then it glowed! And now no more stink! No more yucky looking milk." He pointed to the nearly empty bag of Cheetos. "Magic dust!"
Scorpius was right about one thing, Draco thought: the base potion did indeed look a lot like curdled milk, and it smelled about ten times worse.
They looked into the cauldron and Draco could find no sign of the base potion at all! In the cauldron, he could see nothing but a faintly glowing residue on the inner surface of the vessel and at the bottom, a slightly lumpy mass. He wasn't quite sure how he knew it, but Draco felt certain that the mass at the bottom of the brass cauldron was in fact the complete and fully composed form of the potion he had so long worked at! He was so excited that he lifted little Scorpius high above his head and wiggled him about triumphantly. "Scorpius, you really did make magic here! I am so proud of you!"
Scorpius laughed all the way up the stairs to his bedroom where Draco would read to him a story and snuggle with his son before it was time for bed.
The curious mass and the great mystery of the Cheetos dust could wait til morning. Right now, the little potion master needed to hear nothing more fascinating or mysterious than the tale of how I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew!