I own nothing.
Scorpius
It never struck Scorpius Malfoy as odd that he didn't know exactly what his father did for a living. On the very rare occasion that anyone asked, he simply said what he had grown up hearing - that his father was a Ministry Consultant, and if he didn't know precisely what that meant, well, neither did anyone else. The title was vague enough to be all-encompassing but important-sounding enough that no one felt comfortable asking more questions. Which was exactly why it had been chosen.
There was also the added benefit that the title could describe what the Malfoy family had been doing for generations - donating enough money to the Ministry to be able to whisper in the ears of higher ups on issues near and dear to the Malfoy name and fortune - so most people just sneered with some contempt at the idea that Draco Malfoy was still trying to keep his fingers in the pie, and looked no further. Which was, again, by design.
Scorpius Malfoy didn't know any of this.
To Scorpius, Draco Malfoy was only ever his father - distant and aloof, but since Scorpius wasn't around other children enough to have a basis for comparison, he barely gave a second thought as to what his father was or wasn't. The frequency with which his father was gone didn't help matters.
For as long as Scorpius could remember, his father was gone for five to seven days of every month, away on "business trips," his mother always said. She also told him that before he was born, his father's trips had lasted much longer. Sometimes, she had told him, his father had been gone for months at a time.
"Did you miss him?" young Scorpius had asked.
"Very much," his mother had said. "I always miss him when he's gone. Do you?"
"Yes," young Scorpius had replied, but more because he knew it was the expected answer than because it was necessarily true. He supposed he missed his father. He'd never really thought about it. Life in his home was much the same for Scorpius whether his father was there or not. Draco Malfoy was a distant father, but not a particularly stern or strict one. He did not insist on absolute quiet in the house, nor did he expect Scorpius to behave like a miniature adult. He encouraged Scorpius to run and play and laugh and sing (as much as Scorpius was inclined to those things). He accepted hugs or tokens of affection when offered. He would smile indulgently when Scorpius had a story to tell him. He rarely instigated the affection, and he never joined in anything that could be considered play, but he never wished for his son to eschew such things. And he never pushed Scorpius away, though he did tend to hold him at arms' length, the result being that when Draco Malfoy was present, Scorpius fit him into his day to day life without thinking about it, and when he wasn't, Scorpius's world shrank once more to him and his mother.
Scorpius's mother was a social activist. She had a weekly column in the Daily Prophet that allowed her to work mostly from home, and Scorpius adored her. She laughed and played and was silly right along with him, and every once in a very rare while, she could convince his father to come out in the garden and sit on the grass with them and perhaps make a few colored bubbles with his wand for Scorpius to play with, or conjure a Patronus for Scorpius to chase. Those moments were rare, and though Scorpius didn't, as a child, understand exactly what they meant, he knew they were important, and he treasured them.
When Scorpius sat quietly and concentrated very hard, he was almost certain he could remember being tossed up in the air by his father, who was smiling and laughing and swinging him around the summer garden, and he also thought he could remember riding his father like a pony, but the older Scorpius got, the less those memories meshed with the father he knew, and the more likely he thought it that they were just things he'd dreamed.
Scorpius led a very solitary childhood. There was Mum, who was always there, and Hilde, their housekeeper, who spoiled Scorpius rotten but still lectured him time and again on how to be a polite, lovely boy. And there was Father. Every once in a while, there was Aunt Daphne and Uncle Theo, whom Scorpius liked well enough, and their daughter, his cousin Enid, but she was several years younger than Scorpius and therefore not much of a companion. There were also grandparents, but Scorpius always felt stiff and uncomfortable around both sets, and he and Mum and Father didn't visit either household very often. Grandmother Narcissa was better than the others, but Grandfather Lucius and Grandmother Helena were both quite unpleasant, and Scorpius always felt like they were finding fault with him.
There were very few other children. By the time Scorpius was old enough to understand that this was unusual, he knew enough to know that things were that way because of his father and his name, though he didn't understand why or how.
He remembered being six years old and in London with his Mum. It was near Christmas, and she was frantic and flustered because she had a charity event that night to prepare and she was supposed to have left Scorpius at home, but Hilde was sick and his father had been called away suddenly and Aunt Daphne had just had Enid, so he'd had to tag along with her on her errands. And in one of the shops, Mum was picking up something expensive, and the shopkeeper had asked her to go into the back room where it was being stored, and there had been no kids allowed.
"Scorpius," Mum had said, kneeling down to his level, "I need you to stay right here, for just two minutes, okay? Don't move, don't touch anything, don't talk to anyone, understand?"
And Scorpius had nodded and said, "Yes, Mum," and she'd drawn a shining circle around him with her wand and looked very nervous as she'd gone to the next room, though Scorpius hadn't understood why.
But not long after his mother had disappeared from sight, a lady he didn't know had come up beside him with a sneer on her face. Not able to cross the line his mother had drawn, she had just looked down at him and asked, "Are you proud of your father, little boy?" And Scorpius had stared up at her, not answering because his mother had told him not to talk to anyone, and because he wasn't sure the woman was talking to him at all, as her question hadn't made any sense. "Did you hear me?" she'd said, and she'd sounded so angry. "Are you proud to have such a sniveling coward for a father?"
"D'you know my father?" Scorpius had asked, because if she knew his father, maybe it was all right to talk to her, and if she didn't, then he could politely inform her that she probably had him mixed up with someone else.
"The whole world knows your father, or hasn't he had the guts to tell you? You're the child of a coward, a coward and a traitor, and if your family had any decency—"
And then a large, solid shape had swept between them, and Scorpius's mother had been there, her jaw high and set in a hard line, and Scorpius had hardly recognized her, this woman whose eyes were blazing instead of twinkling. She'd scared him a bit, much more than the loud, rude woman had.
"I will thank you not to speak so to my son," his mother had said in a hard voice.
"You think you're so fine, so high and mighty," the woman had sneered at Scorpius's mother. "But the whole world knows the truth of you, and you won't ever escape it, not as long as you live."
"And shall we open the book of your life and find the missteps you have made?" his mother had challenged. "Shall we write them down on weights and hang them about your neck to be borne the rest of your days? Shall we see if you are equal to it when heaviness of your misdeeds is draped upon your shoulders?"
"I hope you're enjoying the lonely life you've chosen for yourself, Astoria Greengrass," the woman had spat, but Scorpius's mother had been unfazed.
"My name," she had said in a clear voice, "is Astoria Malfoy, and it is a name that I bear proudly. And yes, thank you, I am happy in the life I chose. Would that you could say the same. But judging from your need to attack children with your foul words, it is clear that you cannot. And I have no further time to waste on ignorant people. Come along, Scorpius."
And she had taken his hand and led him gently from the shop while the woman had shouted more nasty things after them.
Scorpius had had a lot of questions at the end of that day, and Astoria had let him ask them, and she had answered them, explaining the situation as well as it could be explained to a six-year-old. It wasn't until some years later that Scorpius really understood what she had said that night, but he understood from that day on that there would always be people who looked at him differently because of who his father was and the mysterious bad things he had done so many years ago.
And that was why, Scorpius figured out, there were no other children. None but Honoria.
Scorpius had known Honoria Ridgeton pretty much his whole life. She was just a few months younger than he was, and someday, he was going to marry her.
This wasn't puppy love or any sort of little-boy-certainty declaration; it wasn't even something that Scorpius had decided. Their marriage had been arranged for them by their parents when they were two years old.
That he would probably marry Honoria was something that Scorpius knew, but it wasn't something he thought a lot about, at least, not until he was almost eleven. Because when he turned eleven, there was going to be a ceremony where he and Honoria swore to each other that they would one day maybe get married. The whole thing was strange to him because his parents had been careful to tell him that he didn't have to marry Honoria, they would make that choice when they were older, but that this was just a ceremony. And yet, for all that they told him that, the ceremony seemed a lot more important to his parents than they made out.
He knew that because seven weeks before his eleventh birthday, he overheard a late night conversation between his parents. He was getting a drink of water from the bathroom, and they were in the sitting room below, and their voices carried, and he heard his name, and then he did what any good ten-year-old would. He positioned himself against the stairway wall and crept halfway down the steps so he could listen better.
"I thought he promised you no more big trips, not until May. Not until after Scorpius's birthday," his mother said in a tight, hushed voice.
"You know as well as I do that those promises are never firm, Astoria," his father said quietly. "Much as the world might think otherwise, there are some things Harry Potter cannot control, and when Dark wizards choose to resurface is one of them. He needs me now, not seven weeks from now."
"You know how important this birthday is, Draco."
"And you know how important catching scum like Avery is. The man has evaded me for almost seventeen years; I'm not letting him get away again." Scorpius had never heard his father speak with such a tone before, and it frightened him.
"Draco, you're talking like this is personal—"
"It is personal," his father interrupted forcefully. "He was my house-mate, Astoria, he sat next to me time and again, he murdered our classmates during the battle and took glee in it, it is personal."
"Draco—"
"What would you have me do? No one knows Avery like I do. No one else has a better chance of capturing him once and for all. Do you want me to go to Potter and tell him that I can't assist in the capture of one of the last at large members of the Old War threat because my son's birthday is in two months?"
His mother was silent after that question, and Scorpius found himself chewing on his lip as he waited anxiously to hear what would be said next. It was his father who spoke again.
"It will not take me long," he said in a gentler voice. "Four weeks at the most. I will be back before his birthday."
"And if you're not?" she challenged then. "What am I to tell Ridgetons? If this takes longer than you plan? You're his father, you're to stand behind him at the ceremony, to show your support, to acknowledge that he is equal to the responsibility."
"You need not inform me how important my presence at the ceremony is," was all Scorpius's father said. "I will be there. I will be back before March is out." Scorpius heard the sound of kissing, then his father said, "I love you, Astoria."
"And I, you," his mother responded, though she sounded sad. There was the sound of another kiss, and Scorpius crept back up the stairs, not wanting to be caught listening. The next morning, his father was gone. His mother told him it would be a longer trip than usual. "But he'll be back by the end of March," she'd said with a smile.
But he wasn't. March ended and April began, and there was no sign or word of his father. As Scorpius's birthday came steadily nearer, Scorpius watched his mother become more and more anxious and worried. She wrote more letters, Flooed more people, and made more trips to London in her best clothes than Scorpius could ever remember.
He also caught her crying in her room late at night two different times, but he didn't like to think about that, as the memory made him feel sick to his stomach.
He worried because he knew his mother was worried. But he was only vaguely aware that there was something about the gravity of the situation that was outside his understanding.
Three nights before his birthday, he sat on the steps outside the sitting room long after he was supposed to be asleep, and eavesdropped on his mother making two Floo calls. The first was to the Ridgetons.
"Hello," she said in a cheery voice that Scorpius was almost sure was fake. "Sorry to bother you so late at night, but I wanted to let you know that Draco has come down with a sudden and pretty serious case of Dragon Pox." Mr. Ridgeton said something then that Scorpius couldn't hear, but sounded sympathetic. "Yes, I know," his mother responded. "Merlin only knows where he picked it up. It's just gotten worse as the day's gone on, and we're hoping he'll be all right by the 21st, but . . ."
Scorpius strained to hear Mr. Ridgeton's response, creeping further down the stairs. He caught the end of the sentence. " . . . really, it's no problem, Astoria. You let us know if we need to postpone, and tell Draco to feel better."
His mother's next call was to Mrs. Granger-Weasley, and that was the one that made Scorpius's stomach tie in knots. They spoke in hushed, anxious whispers, and Scorpius could only hear a few, broken phrases that made no sense: "fully immerse" . . . "made his cover" . . . "agent gone dark."
With a growl of frustration, Scorpius tiptoed quietly but quickly up the stairs and scurried for the second floor parlor. It shared a heating grate with the sitting room, and lying on his stomach behind the settee, his ear against the grate, he could hear much clearer.
". . . don't know if he doesn't know more or just can't tell me more. He did say Harry planned on sending in a second agent if they haven't heard anything by the end of the week. But if Draco has gone dark, it's for a reason, and sending a second agent might just make things worse. It's a gamble either way. I'm sorry I can't be more help."
Scorpius retreated to his bedroom after that because if he stayed much longer or heard much more it would become too hard to keep pretending that his dad had an ordinary job and went on ordinary business trips and that this was somehow an ordinary delay.
Two nights later, the night before his birthday, Scorpius woke to the faint crack of Apparition coming from somewhere outside. In a flash, he was out of bed and down to the back second floor landing, which had the window with the best view of their Apparition point. He could see a cloaked figure moving heavily toward the house. Even as he watched, his mother, who had heard the crack as well, flung open the front door and ran to the figure.
Scorpius took advantage of his mother's absence to run to the second floor parlor and position himself with his ear to the grate. Moments later, his parents entered the sitting room. Scorpius's father looked gaunt and exhausted, and Mother had to help him to the fainting couch by the fire. Scorpius's father sagged into the velvet with nothing like his usual uprightness.
"Where have you been?" his mother asked in a whisper little more than a hiss. Draco Malfoy gave a wan smile.
"I told you I'd be back for Scorpius's birthday."
"You said you'd be back in four weeks; it's been seven and a half!" Scorpius had never heard his mother sound so angry.
"I told you I would be gone as long as it took," his father said calmly, and Scorpius watched his mother turn away sharply. "The added length was unfortunate but unavoidable. I feared my cover had been made. I had to go to ground. I couldn't risk making contact; I didn't know who was watching or what they'd seen."
"I don't care," his mother said viciously. "I don't care about Avery, I don't care about your mission, and I don't care about your cover. Your son's birthday is tomorrow—"
"And I'm home. You cannot be angry with me for something that didn't happen."
"And you can't claim credit for luck and coincidence!" his mother shot back. "Which are the only responsible factors for your return in the nick of time! I lied to the Ridgetons, Draco! That's what you've made me!"
It made Scorpius feel very small and frightened to hear his parents arguing in such a way. But his father didn't seem cowed or upset at all; rather, he got stiffly but solidly to his feet and approached his wife, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugged sharply away from it.
"Come now," he said in a soft voice, so soft Scorpius almost couldn't catch it. "Let's have this out, Astoria. This isn't about the birthday. Say what you wish to say."
For a moment, Scorpius thought his mother would refuse. But then, her face crumpled. "I was scared to death," she said in a whisper. "What if I'd lost you?" Scorpius's father took her into his arms then, holding her tight, and Scorpius felt the knot in his stomach loosen a bit.
His father murmured something that Scorpius couldn't hear, but when his mother replied, "He's in bed, asleep," he figured he ought to get back to bed, and fast.
He got the door shut just before he heard his father start to make his way up the stairs, moving slower than usual. Scorpius made sure his back was to the door and his eyes were shut tight. Moments later, a sliver of light spilled into the room as the door was opened just the tiniest bit. Scorpius couldn't see his father, or hear him, but he knew he was there. He wondered, for a moment, if his father would come in to wake him, to let him know that he was home in time for his birthday.
But instead his father just stood in the doorway for several long moments, then shut the door carefully behind him. And the next morning, when Scorpius came down for breakfast, his father was at the table, reading the paper as if he'd never been away. He wished his son a happy birthday, and Scorpius said "Thank you, Father," in his most respectful voice. No remark was made on his father's extended absence, and life returned to normal in the Malfoy household, as if it had never happened.
Except that Scorpius knew it had. He didn't know what it meant, and he didn't understand why it was important, and he wouldn't for many years to come. But the events surrounding the weeks before his eleventh birthday opened his eyes to the fact that his father was a lot more than Scorpius had ever been told, a complicated puzzle that Scorpius would spend the next ten years trying to solve.
As is well established in my Pieces Universe stories (if you know where to look), my Draco Malfoy is a spy. After helping to clear his name, Harry kinda guilted him into becoming an undercover agent for the Auror Department. His code name is White Ferret (courtesy of Ron), only a handful of people are aware of the work that he does. The rest of the world sees him as a coward for his part in the war. This is the Draco and Astoria from "And the World Turns 'Round," and it is the Scorpius from the Roses Trilogy, hence the mention of Honoria and the Bonding.
I'm a bit sorry that Scorpius's moment turned out to focus so heavily on Draco, but only a bit, as a) Scorpius has an entire trilogy and upwards of 85,000 words devoted to him and his life at school and after and his romantic entanglements; b) I find Draco to be fascinating; and c) Draco is, in this universe, Scorpius's defining factor. Wanting to make his father proud of him defines Scorpius his entire time at Hogwarts. He goes into the Auror program because of how the world has responded to his father his whole life.
In painting this relationship, then, I really wanted to drive home the fact that Draco was not a bad father. He was just a distance and detached one. But he wasn't one of these horribly strict, Captain-Von-Trapp-pre-fun-loving-governess type of fathers. He wanted his son to be a child, and he loves Scorpius very much. Too much, from his perspective. I think if Draco had been a stricter father, then Scorpius's relationship with him would have been much more straightforward. But because Draco is this mysterious sort of figure, it becomes much more complicated, and Scorpius does spend the next ten years trying to figure it out.