"Merlin's underpants, would you sto-" the child was still wailing, even as Draco fussed with his diapers.
The first few times Draco had attempted to change the child's diapers, he had found himself covered in baby piss. It had been three weeks since Granger had entrusted him with the life of her child, and he would've liked to think that he'd gotten keen enough to stay out of the splash zone as he tried to change the nappy for what seemed to be the tenth time that day. He wasn't so lucky.
The three weeks had passed excruciatingly slowly, and Malfoy had yet to hear from Granger. He doubted she would resurface, but he still kept an eye out for a sign to let him know that she was safe, or at the very least, alive. No luck. He was very ready to pull his hair out. Weeks of being on edge every time he had a floo call or heard someone walk past the door, weeks of trying to wrap his head around the fact that he, whether or not he liked it, was a single father in the midst of a war, had led to very poor sleep and eating habits.
He knew he was lucky. He had the privilege of not having to be on the run, he had his own home, but there was nobody he could trust. Even Potter, with whom he trusted his life, couldn't be told a thing about his predicament. Draco had taken the past few weeks off of work, and was dodging questions. His "friends" had attempted to owl him, and he knew that he had to make an appearance, or else someone would come a-knocking. Merlin help him.
The crying persisted, "Scorp please please stop," Malfoy picked up the freshly clothed babe and held him against his shoulder, patting his back. "I'm so tired."
He walked back and forth, trying to lull the spawn off to sleep, but to no avail. His ministrations seemed to bring the child no peace, so he sat down on the sofa with the crush of defeat on his head.
Malfoy set the baby on his back on his lap, still crying his head off, and Malfoy's heart couldn't take it. He'd already fed and burped him, what else was there? He was a bleeding Healer, what else was he supposed to do?
He picked Scorp's hands up and wiggled them in front of him, "Hey baby, does this make you laugh?" More crying. Shit.
"What about this?" He picked up Scorp's legs and pushed them towards his tummy gently. Babies were supposed to be flexible right? Was this fine? Fuck it, he should've specialized in paediatrics. The sound of a large pass of gas was followed by instant silence.
Malfoy could not have grinned wider, "You son-of-a-Granger, that was fantastic!" Scorpius gave a toothless grin. Yeah okay, that's just a reflex, babies can't actually smile, but still!
Malfoy stood up and nestled the baby in the crook of his elbow, "Years of studying to be a healer and no magical malady textbook prepared me for that. C'mon buddy, maybe now you'll take your nap, hmm?"
It had been three weeks. It had been a lonely three weeks. Yes, Malfoy was talking to a baby.
Newly swaddled and ready for bed, the babe was placed on Malfoy's shoulder as he sat down slowly on a rocking chair he had transfigured from an extra breakfast table chair. It's not like he had guests anyway.
Holding Scorpius close to his chest, Malfoy took the time to close his own eyes. It had been a hard few weeks, and he knew that he would have to eventually leave the cocoon of his own home and face the outside world at some point, but he couldn't bring himself to do just that. Despite the difficulty of caring for a newborn solo, he didn't want to break the bubble the two of them had found themselves in just yet. He wanted to keep Scorpius safe from the outside world for as long as he could.
Within ten minutes, both of them were out like a light.
Malfoy was jolted awake by the sound of pounding at his door. Bleary-eyed, he grabbed a bid to wipe the drool off his face, as well as the drool Scorp had left on his shirt, after setting the child down in his crib.
The knocking was persistent, and he knew his time was up. His nurse had come to drag is ass back to work. "Yes, yes I'm coming," he pulled a hand through his hair, trying to look presentable as he opened the door. "Maisie I told y-"
But it was not his nurse from St Mungo's, it was Rowle. The Death Eater.
Instantly, Malfoy's demeanour changed. His shoulders went back, and his spine became straight, making him seem taller. A nonchalant, but cold, expression graced his face.
"Thorfinn, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked cooly.
Behind the heavy-set man were two masked Death Eaters, and as Rowle pushed through, they followed.
"We got a tip saying that Potter's mudblood was spotted in the area." He snapped, eyes roaming around the modest (for a Malfoy) apartment.
"And you think that I would be housing her here, why?" He steely inquired, stepping aside.
Rowle glowered down at Malfoy, a sneer on his face. "You knew her at Hogwarts, didn't you?"
Malfoy let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. "And that's why you think it's okay to barge into my home un-announced?" He crossed his arms over his chest, still clutching the bib. Though it didn't seem so on the outside, Draco was panicking. Scorpius was in the other room. He should've cast a muffliato, or even shut the door for Merlin's sake! His wand wasn't even with him. If even one of them decided to turn a wand against him, he'd be dead in a second.
Rowle turned back from inspecting the living room. "You haven't been at work Mr Malfoy, care to explain?"
Malfoy sneered. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" He took one menacing step closer. "I have the ear of the Prime Minister," another step, "and I'm sure Auntie Bella would love" one more step, "to hear how you accused her only nephew of aiding a mudblood." He spat out the last word, barely a foot away from Rowle, who was a fraction taller than him.
At this, Rowle seemed to lose his demeanour and stepped back. "Mr Mal-"
"I suggest you get out, now," He flicked his finger, and the door swung open, "before I remind you who exactly you're dealing with."
Rowle's head snapped to the door and back at Malfoy, who clearly didn't have his wand. Wandless magic was one of, if not the most, difficult of magical skills to master. Rumor had it even Voldemort had not been able to master it.
It also didn't hurt that Malfoy was known for being ruthless when it came to those who displeased him. While he was content with being in the background for now, it wouldn't bode well for those around him to forget his dark past.
The three Death Eaters promptly fled.
Draco rushed to his bedroom to check on Scorpius, who was still sound asleep, thankfully. He sunk to his knees and touched a finger to the child's hair through the bars of the crib. His heart was racing, refusing to calm down, his hands almost shaking.
He didn't know what he was doing, but he knew that he had to get back to work before he was graced with other unfortunate presence. He needed help.
Draco stood up shakily, letting out a deep exhale, grabbing his wand from the dresser. He had been foolish for not resetting the wards after Granger had found him, and he had been even more foolish for not keeping his wand on him at all times. The time for complacency was over, he had to protect his son.