Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, they've really encouraged me to keep writing. I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been so busy lately with school and finals and SATs and everything else going on in junior year of high school. Once it's summer, I will have much more time to update. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Draco's body stiffened in shock, and he felt familiar nervous knots in his stomach, that came everytime he laid eyes on the man that was in front of him. His father. His mother stood beside him, and Draco inwardly winced at the worry and concern in her expression. He hadn't thought about his parents when he had hurt himself, and now he felt horribly guilty. His father's gaze was sharp, and it felt like he was reading Draco's mind, making him feel small.
Then Draco felt like hitting himself. He wasn't a child anymore. He shouldn't be afraid of his father. But he knew that he still was, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. He hated that feeling, of the fear and helplessness he felt when around his father. He never wanted anyone to see that side of him, even now. He didn't want anyone to see the frightened boy that hid beneath the arrogant and confident man that was on the surface. But his son had seen it all. Seen all of his worst memories, his deepest secrets. He didn't know how to feel about that, that someone else knew more about him than anyone else alive now did.
"Father, Mother. How are you?" he asked, meeting his father's cold eyes. He felt his heart rate picking up, but he made his face expressionless and smiled. As a child, it had been impossible for him to fake confidence around his father, as he had been absolutely terrified of him. But now, after years of practice and meeting with his father and mother almost every month (whenever Scorpius was away), he could successfully hide his emotions around his father and have a conversation with him without becoming getting nervous.
After he had married Astoria, his parents had moved away to one of their summer homes, because, as his father had put it, they couldn't bear to live with their disgraceful son and his weak wife. And Draco had been heartbroken. He still was, actually. But a small, guilty part of him had been glad that his father wouldn't be there anymore to insult him and Astoria every time he saw them. Now he felt horrible for feeling that way, because no matter how hurtful his father's comments were, he was still Draco's father. And Draco loved his father, and even now, he craved approval.
Scorpius's mouth was wide open with shock. Then Draco saw his normally gentle son's face become furious as he stalked towards Draco's parents. "Stop," Draco wanted to say, but for some reason his voice wasn't working.
"You're evil! I hate you!" Scorpius yelled at his grandfather's face. Lucius's eyes slowly moved towards Scorpius, who stood his ground firmly.
Draco's heart jumped into his throat as he tried to read his father's face. Draco would never dare say something like that to his father. He didn't understand how his son could be so brave, to yell at such a terrifying man without even looking afraid. That bravery definitely hadn't come from Draco.
Although his father was definitely less intimidating in his old age, he was the only person still alive who could make Draco feel like a young child again, submissive and obedient.
His father raised an eyebrow when he saw Scorpius's face, and Draco knew exactly what he was looking at. The bruise that Draco had made was still there, and Draco saw for the first time how large it was. Guilt flooded through him again.
His father's eyes were calm, but Draco could see how surprised he was.
"Draco, I was going to tell you that you need to… discipline your son more, but it seems like you're already doing so," he drawled. Draco knew that his father was against the way Scorpius was being raised, but it was too much for him to insult Draco's parenting! Draco felt a small flare of anger.
"My dad doesn't abuse me," Scorpius said angrily. "But you abused him!"
Abuse? That word always made Draco uncomfortable. He preferred discipline. Or punishment. Abuse made it seem more serious than it actually was.
"Did you tell him that we abused you?" his father asked angrily, turning to Draco. "I punished you for your failures, which were much more common than your accomplishments. If you even had any of those at all."
Draco looked away, ashamed. Had he really been that horrible of a son?
His father glared at him, and Draco realized that he was expecting an answer.
"Of course, Father," he said quietly. He turned to look at his mother, who didn't meet his eyes. Of course.
"And you," his father said, turning to Scorpius angrily. Scorpius didn't even flinch, and once again, Draco marveled at his son's bravery.
"How dare you speak to me like that? And if your father doesn't discipline you, as you claim, where did you get that horrid bruise from?" Lucius snarled.
"Father, I did make that bruise, but it was on accident," Draco said quietly. His father raised an eyebrow. "And how-"
"You don't need to know. You don't deserve to know," Scorpius said.
If his father had been angry before, it was nothing compared to how he was now. He looked livid. Draco shuddered at the look on his face.
"Don't you dare interrupt me again, you insolent boy," His father hissed. "At least your father has one thing right; he is obedient to me. You need to learn that lesson as well."
Draco winced. He would've been so happy if his father had said that when he had been a child, but now he wasn't so sure.
"He was afraid of you," Scorpius said angrily. "And I don't blame him. You're a terrible father. But I'm not afraid of you, and I never will be!"
"Scorpius," Draco said firmly. "That's enough." Scorpius still looked angry, but he stayed silent.
Draco thought about what his son had said. Was his father the one at fault, or was Draco just a horrible son? His father had only done what he thought was right. But for the first time, Draco thought about how different he and his father were. After all, Draco would never beat his son, even if Scorpius did deserve a punishment. So why had his father done it to him?
His father sighed, turning to Draco. "Your son is actually more disgraceful than you were, Draco," he drawled. "I didn't think it was possible, yet here we are. Must be those defective Greengrass genes."
Draco grimaced, feeling the jibe towards Astoria like it was towards him. Scorpius looked stunned, as if he didn't believe that his grandfather had just said that.
"Astoria wasn't defective, and neither is Scorpius," he said angrily. Before his father could say something else (clearly another insult), his mother interrupted.
"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked, glaring at her husband as if daring him to say something else. His father scoffed but fell silent.
"I'm better," Draco replied.
Scorpius was staring at Draco's mother. Did Scorpius hate Draco's mother too? The thought made Draco sad. His son would never get to have a relationship with his grandparents, because of all the hate between them. Admittedly, Draco never had the perfect relationship with either of his parents. But at least he understood why they did what they did. Scorpius would never understand that.
"So, Draco. What idiotic thing have you done now?" his father sneered when he caught sight of Draco's bandaged dark mark. He probably already knew, Draco thought. He just wanted to hear Draco admit it.
"It was a mistake, Father," Draco said, forcing his voice to not shake.
"A mistake, Draco? A mistake? After all your mother and I have given you, all we have done for you, you repay us by trying to kill yourself?" His father hissed, slamming his hand onto the bedside table. Draco flinched.
He had been wrong before. His father was still just as intimidating as he had been in Draco's childhood. Draco focused on the cane his father always held, which was tapping aggressively on the floor. That was always a sign of his father's anger.
"Stop it!" Scorpius yelled. "You haven't done anything for my dad! You hurt him!"
Lucius glared at Scorpius. "And I can punish you as well, if you don't silence yourself," he sneered. "If your father isn't willing teach you, then I might have to take over."
He turned to Draco, and he couldn't help shrinking away slightly from his father's intimidating gaze.
"Draco, why would you hurt yourself?" his mother asked.
"And how did you 'accidentally' hurt your son?" his father sneered.
Draco took a deep breath. He had to tell his parents everything now.
"After the war, I bought a pensieve," Draco said, looking up at his parents to see their reactions.
Both looked blank. "What?" his mother asked. Draco took a deep breath.
"I bought a pensieve to store my memories in," he said quietly. "And Scorpius found it accidentally. I had to go in to get him out."
His mother looked horrified. Draco had no doubt that she knew about how pensieves dulled memories. And what it meant now that he had gone into the pensieve again.
"Draco," she gasped. Guilt flooded through him when he saw his mother start to cry. She went up to the bed and put her arms around Draco. Draco's eyes widened in surprise and he stiffened.
He realized for the first time that he and his mother had never really hugged. In fact, the only person he had ever gotten affection from in his childhood had been Severus, and even that had been rare.
He had always known that she loved him, because she had always been kind and gentle with him, unlike his father. But he had also always known that she loved his father just as much, maybe even more than him. She had never tried to help Draco after he was punished. And that hurt him almost as much as his father's disappointment.
Both of his parents had spoiled him, giving him anything he would ever desire, as if to make up for their shortcomings. But that had never been enough for him. He had always wanted their love and affection.
"Draco," he heard his father say. He turned to his father uncertainty, still apprehensive, his mother still clinging to him in a way that was unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable.
"Even as a child you were… disturbed. But to do something this foolish? I'm surprised even you could be this idiotic." His father sighed, shaking his head as if too disgusted to say anything more. Draco tried to ignore the familiar feeling of hurt that came with his father's words, but he felt a lump in his throat that just wouldn't go away.
"Stop insulting my dad." Scorpius looked angrier than Draco had ever seen him. Draco's father whirled around and glared at Scorpius with such a ferocious look that Draco wanted to grab his son and hide somewhere with him.
"Ignorant child!" his father hissed at Scorpius. "Don't you know what you have done to my son by going into his pensieve?" Scorpius's eyes went wide with surprise, and he glanced at Draco uneasily.
"What's he talking about?" he asked, looking at his dad. Slowly, his father's eyes shifted towards Draco as well, until everyone was looking at him.
"Yes, Draco. Explain to your ungrateful, ill-mannered son what I'm talking about," his father snarled. Scorpius flushed but otherwise ignored his grandfather, looking at Draco curiously.
Draco found himself unable to speak. Maybe it was the fact that his father was staring at him in that terrifying way that made Draco's voice stop working, or it was because the memory was too painful to talk about. Either way, he felt like his throat was closing up.
His mother took pity on him and cleared her throat, bringing the attention of her husband and grandson towards her.
"When someone puts memories in a pensieve, it can either be used to remember them at a future time, or it can be used to… dull memories. Usually used by people who have traumatizing memories they don't want to remember as vividly," his mother said, sniffing as she turned to look at Draco.
"Draco, why didn't you tell us you were suffering? We could have helped you."
Draco didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't exactly tell his parents that he wasn't comfortable enough with them to tell them personal things like this. If he had told them about his problems after the war, his mother would have overreacted and become overbearing. His father would have just sneered at him and told him that he needed to grow up. They wouldn't have understood.
"I'm sorry," he said instead, looking down to study his bandaged dark mark. His father sneered and shook his head, muttering something that Draco was sure was an insult towards him. He was glad he couldn't hear it. Then his father began to speak.
"You didn't finish, Narcissa dear. You see, boy, if the person who put the memories into the pensieve is to go in and see them again, even just one, the memories will come back to the full extent, as if they had just experienced them."
Both Draco and his father watched Scorpius as he came to the realization of what he had done, and the horror and guilt on his face hurt Draco. He wanted to tell his son that it was ok, that it wasn't his fault.
"Scorpius, it's not your fault, it's mine. I shouldn't have made the pensieve in the first place." Draco tried to make Scorpius feel better, but his son's face was miserable. And his father looked furious: not at Draco for once, but at Scorpius.
Draco knew that his father was fine with hurting him himself, but if Draco was hurt by anyone else, that person was dead. In his third year, when the hippogriff had scratched him, he had done anything he could to get it killed, just because Draco had wanted to kill it. That had been the first time he felt that his father actually cared about him and didn't just think of him as a heir, but as a son.
The feeling had made him happier than he had ever been in a long time. He had wanted that to last forever, but after the hippogriff trial, his father had gone to treating him the same way he had before. And Draco had wondered if it was all just an act to the public. If his father had just wanted to show everyone his power, show that he could do anything if he wanted to. In fact, he still wasn't sure why his father had cared enough to go through all that trouble to kill the hippogriff, because Draco's injury hadn't been that serious.
"Father, it really wasn't his fault," Draco said calmly.
"I'm sorry Dad!" Scorpius cried out suddenly. "I didn't know that it would affect you in that way!" He moved as if to go to Draco but was stopped by his father.
"You've already done enough." The look on his face was one Draco was used to, and he was certain that everyone else in the room could hear his heart pounding; after all, how couldn't they? It was as loud as a drum.
"I think it's time for you to go, Father." Draco said firmly, although his heart was racing and his palms were sweating. This was only the second time in his entire life he had said anything against his father. But he wouldn't allow his father to do anything to Scorpius. He couldn't allow his son to be hurt the way he had been.
His father turned towards him in shock. "What did you just say to me?" he growled, low and dangerous. The voice that Draco knew was a warning for him, saying that if he kept going against his father, it would mean pain. And when he was a child, he definitely would have backed down, immediately, without second thought. And now, although he was afraid, he loved his son too much for him to be hurt.
"You-you heard what I said," Draco stammered. He tried to stop himself him flinching when his father came closer, the snake cane that had tormented Draco all his life in his hand.
He expected the cane to come up for sure now, but his father only looked at him for a few seconds with an unreadable emotion.
"I only want what's best for you," his father said harshly. "Why can't you ever understand that?" Draco frowned.
Then his father turned around and walked out of the room. Draco relaxed immediately, not noticing until now how tense he had been. His mother looked between her husband and son, and followed her husband out, giving her son one last sad look. Draco sighed. He shouldn't be surprised by his mother's behavior by now.
But he couldn't stop the familiar feeling of worthlessness, wondering why his mother always chose his father over him, wondering why he was never enough for the two people who were supposed to love him unconditionally. He had never believed in unconditional love until he had Scorpius. That was when he found out what it meant to love a person so dearly you would protect them with your life. That was when he understood how Harry's parents had given the sacrifice they had. He had always thought that he had to earn love and affection. He had never realized that it wasn't true until Scorpius and Astoria had come into his life.
"Dad?" Draco jumped at the voice, forgetting that Scorpius was there with him. His son was looking at him with a worried expression.
"Are you ok?" Draco was about to nod his head when he realized it wasn't true. He wasn't ok. He was broken.
Broken from the memories that were flooding through his head, that he had somehow managed to keep hidden from both of his parents. Broken from the constant insults and disappointment that had come from his father, the person he admired so much and desperately wanted to impress, since childhood.
But he had to stay strong for his son. Scorpius obviously thought this was his own fault, judging by his expression. And Draco never wanted his son to feel that way.
He forced a smile, although he knew it must look strained.
"I'm alright Scorpius." he smiled. Scorpius frowned at him, obviously not believing him.
Draco sighed. He heard the door open once again and looked at it, half expecting to see his parents standing there. Instead, a healer stepped in, the same one as before. Annoyed at the interruption once again, Draco glared at the man.
"Mr. Malfoy, I have your potion, for your arm. It may make you drowsy for a while," the man said, looking at Draco's left arm with slight disgust. Draco knew that the man knew what was under the bandages. But Draco was used to it. He was used to being looked at in that way. He accepted the potion, forcing a curt "thank you". The man nodded and turned around and left the room.
Draco looked at his son.
"You should leave now, Scorpius. Go back home." Scorpius shook his head, and Draco was too tired to argue with him. He drowned the potion, and his eyes were closing on their own accord, and he fell into the oblivion of sleep.