4 hours
Scorpius lay on the dungeon floor with only a single blanket for comfort. His body ached from the Cruciatus curse, and his stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast in the dorm.
"You might as well shut up," he said to his stomach. "I don't get the feeling we're getting room service down here."
Scorpius looked around. The dungeon was damp and empty with a layer of dust centimeters thick on the floor. A single, small window near the ceiling let in a few rays of moonlight, but nothing more. It was sealed shut and well out of reach.
They're looking for me, Scorpius told himself. Albus was waiting for me and he'd have known something was wrong and found Ainsley. They'll be looking for me.
He struggled to his feet without use of his arms and staggered into a pillar, shaking loose dust and grime, wondering how long it had been since this place had been occupied. He took a few steps and then - crunch.
"Please don't be a skeleton. Please don't be -"
Scorpius looked down and raised his foot. A rat skeleton was crushed beneath his shoe.
He longed for the Slytherin dorm and his warm bed.
Scorpius walked the perimeter of the room, kicking every brick along the floor looking for anything out of the ordinary, but found nothing.
They're looking for me, Scorpius told himself again. Dad will be on his way.
He looked down at what he could see of his arms. The fine hairs on his triceps stood on end with as if pulled by an electric charge, and he felt as if tiny ants were crawling over his skin.
He tried to imagine Albus and his father - where they'd be and what they were doing. Would they be prowling the Hogwarts grounds? Turning Hogsmeade inside out?
One thing was for sure - they certainly weren't going to know to start here, and he was going to have to survive until they figured it out.
Albus sat alone in a grand hallway, his back against the wall and his knees drawn to his chest. An emergency hearing had been called to address Scorpius' disappearance, and even though it was the middle of the night, ministry officials had shut themselves in the main chamber. The Malfoy name had that kind of power.
"You have to wait here," Harry had said. "I'm sorry."
And so Albus waited for hours on end, trying not to think of all the horrible things that could be happening to Scorpius and then thinking of them anyway.
He'd barely moved until he heard footsteps approaching. Hermione was striding down the hall toward him.
"Albus?"
"Aunt Hermione."
He got to his feet and straightened his robes, realizing for the first time that he was still dressed from Quidditch.
"Al, I can't imagine..."
She wrapped her arms around him tight, holding him until he hugged her back.
"We're going to find him," she assured him. "I'm putting the entire ministry into finding him."
"There's so much red tape," Albus said. Hermione sighed.
"I know. But you're lucky. Your dad is the best out there."
Hermione released him and looked him over. Albus knew he looked awful. He didn't need her to tell him.
"I've got to go in there," she said. "I was just getting the report from the agents who talked to Ainsley."
"How is she?"
"She's pretty shaken up," Hermione admitted. "I'll see you after."
She turned and strode toward the door.
"Hermione?"
"Yeah?"
"I... I didn't even kiss him goodbye this morning."
Hermione's face fell into a look of pity.
"He got me ready for my game and fixed my shoes and prepped my notes for a test, and I didn't even kiss him goodbye. Or tell him I loved him."
"He knows, Al," Hermione said. "He has to."
Albus sank back to the floor.
"We'll find him."
Albus knew that tone. It was the same one he used when he was trying to convince both himself and Scorpius that things were going to get better.
5 hours
The door to the dungeon opened far earlier than Scorpius wanted it to. He knew it had to be the middle of the night by now, and had hoped against hope that he'd be left alone for a few more hours at least.
Selwyn came towards him, kicking up dust as he walked, and grabbed Scorpius roughly by the shoulder, dragging him off the floor. He was a large man, but didn't look particularly intelligent.
"Come on," he said. "Your aunt wants to see you."
At the top of the stairs waited the person Scorpius knew immediately was the third figure. Her height and size matched, but her face surprised him the most. Petite and framed by dark, straight hair.
"He looks like his father," Pansy Parkinson said, disappointed. She grabbed his other shoulder and pulled him along.
"I've seen pictures of you," he said. "You were friends."
"We were acquaintances," she corrected. Scorpius knew that was a lie. Pansy Parkinson's particular brand of crazy was why Draco had always told him to be careful who he dated.
Scorpius finally got the opportunity to look around as they walked. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper and dusty picture frames whose portraits had been cut - shreaded beyond repair. The carpet was heavy with dust and dirt, and when they rounded the corner, he saw a great atrium just a bit smaller than the one in the Malfoy Manor.
"What is this place?"
No one answered him.
Selwyn and Parkison dumped him in a chair in the drawing room where Daphne was seated in an old armchair covered in a clean blanket, reading.
"Have we had time to reconsider our attitude?" she asked. Her tone reminded Scorpius strongly of Dolores Umbridge, and he half expected her to say he was ruining Voldemort Day.
"Not really," said Scorpius.
She sighed and closed her book, folding her hands in her lap.
"My sister's memory deserves so much better," she said. "And you're content to just let her memory die."
"My mother wanted me to be happy," Scorpius said.
"Astoria wanted you to live a good life," Daphne argued. "You're capable of so much more."
"Is this about Albus Potter?"
"This is about you and your father betraying your lineage and my sister's memory." Her voice was sharp and unforgiving. "It is your duty to use the power she gave you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Did you ever ask why the Greengrass family was cursed?"
Scorpius had, but no one had ever known or answered him. Even Draco had never been given a complete account - only that an ancestor had been cursed and it carried down through the generations, causing some members of the Greengrass family to be weaker than others.
"We were a powerful family once," Daphne said. "Centuries ago when there was magic everywhere, and when our family came from France, we were titans in these hills. The Greengrass family was feared once. We had land and power and used magic to keep our enemies at bay."
"I'm sure that was a long time ago," Scorpius said.
"Quiet," Daphne snapped. Scorpius shut his mouth. He wasn't prepared to be tortured again.
"One of our ancestors - I think his name was Abel - had more power than he could handle, and he used it poorly. There's one in every family, I suppose," she shrugged. "And he got himself cursed in a fight with another wizard."
Scorpius mulled it over.
"And you think that my meager powers have something to do with it?"
Daphne grinned - a horrible, cruel distortion of his mother's features.
"I think you're proof that the curse is finally broken," she said.
"It's too late for Draco," Pansy said. Scorpius hadn't realized she'd stayed, and saw her standing in the doorway. "It's not too late for you."
6 hours
Albus was near catatonic by the time the meeting broke up. Several officials he didn't know swept away, and those he'd met gave him piteous looks as they passed. Harry, Draco, and Hermione emerged last, and Albus scrambled to his feet.
"Did you figure out anything?"
"There hasn't even been a whisper of organized activity among the older families," Harry said. He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, looking exhausted. "Nothing."
This was not what Albus had wanted to hear.
"That doesn't mean we can't start knocking on doors and asking questions," Hermione said. "We're going to assemble a team and start questioning as many people as possible who might know anything. And I've got Ron keeping an ear to the ground in Diagon Alley. Even kidnappers have to pick a few things up from time to time, and he's completely inconspicuous there"
Albus wondered how often Hermione had used this tactic.
"What else?"
Albus looked to Draco, whose composure was slipping.
"It's the best we have," Draco said. "But I'm going to do some digging myself. See if there are any connections."
"What can I do to help?" Albus asked, desperate. "There has to be something I can do."
"Right now, there's not much else we can do," Harry said. "I've got officers out there patrolling wizarding communities looking for anything out of the ordinary, but until we know more..."
"That's it?"
"I'll be back in the morning with a list of names," Draco told Harry. "People my father talked about who might still be involved in the purist movement. I'll go through the journals he left behind."
"That would be helpful, Draco," Harry said consolingly.
"And then we can go find these people and ask questions?" Albus said. He needed concrete steps to finding Scorpius.
"And then we can start making a plan," Harry said. "But you and I are going home now."
"Home?"
"Yes. Neither of us is any good to Scorpius exhausted."
"Harry is right," Draco said. Harry looked at him as if he were surprised to hear those words. "We can't just walk around looking for him, hoping to bump into him on the streets. We need a plan, and for that we need information."
"And when everyone reports back in the morning, we'll start making one," Harry said. He took Albus by the arm. "But for now, I'm taking you home."
Harry directed Albus down the hall back toward the elevators. Though he was exhausted, Albus would have much rather stayed with Draco and found some way to help.
He turned around and looked at Draco, who was watching the Potters leave. He looked as lost as Albus felt.
Albus sat on his bed, staring at the floor for a long time after he got home. It was well past midnight, but he knew he wasn't going to sleep despite how tired his body was.
"Al?"
Ginny nudged his door open and peered in to see if he was awake.
"That's me," Albus sighed. He looked up at his mother and was surprised to find that her presence was of some comfort.
"How are you doing?"
"Awful," he admitted. "Mr. Malfoy is methodically going through the motions and gathering information, and dad is mobilizing everyone he can, and I'm just sitting here having a nervous breakdown."
Ginny sat beside him.
"I can't imagine that you wouldn't be," she said. "Your boyfriend was kidnapped and threatened."
"I just don't think anybody gets how -"
"I do," Ginny interrupted. "Your father ran off to fight Voldemort and left me behind. I had no idea if he was alive or dead for almost a year."
Albus stared at her.
"He ran off to fight Voldemort, Al," she repeated. "I think he can find Scorpius."
"But what if we don't find him in time?" Albus asked. He found that saying the words aloud made the fear even more palpable.
For that, Ginny had no response. She had never been one for sugar coating.
"Don't under estimate Scorpius," she said. "He wouldn't underestimate you."
Albus nodded and laid his head on his mother's shoulder, and she held him as if he were a child.
Scorpius hit the ground of the dungeon hard, his wrists twisting in the irons. Sewlyn slammed the door atop the stairs, depriving the room of its main source of light. He groaned and coughed, his face in the dirt and his body still shaking.
Refusing Daphne wasn't going to work. When she took the cuffs off and demanded he demonstrate his powers, he'd refused to play her game - it had only earned him the Cruciatus curse and an assurance of more missing meals.
Scorpius rolled onto his back and looked up at the stone ceiling above him.
They're looking for you, he told himself.
The attic was dusty and full of the things Draco hated to look at - his mother's curio, the stack of his father's walking sticks, and the portrait of his grandparents that lay draped in the corner. The air was thick with dust and a past Draco wanted to forget - the past he'd walked away from the day Astoria had told him she was pregnant.
"Lumos."
He walked around by wand-light, not wanting to bring a lantern into this dusty fire hazard. Toys and books from his childhood had been up here since he'd left for Hogwarts and his father had decided it was time to put away childish things.
Draco looked across all the reminders of his family. He'd hoped he'd never have to come up here, and that someday when he was gone, Scorpius would have someone throw away all the things he'd never seen up here - things he'd never remember or recognize.
He stepped over his Hogwarts trunk, still full of the things he'd left the school with. He'd never opened it again after the battle. He strode over the box of his baby toys that Astoria had pulled a single stuffed bear from - the one that still sat on Scorpius' bookshelf.
His father's desk - so black it seemed to suck in the meager light from Draco's wand - sat in the corner. Draco approached it slowly, as if it was dangerous, and paused for a moment and regarded it with trepidation before opening the drawer.
Black journals, all with dates inscribed on the side, each of them looking like Tom Riddle's diary. Black journals full of Lucius Malfoy's notes. The enchantments that kept out prying eyes had worn off years ago, but Draco had never looked through them. He had hoped he'd never have occasion too.
He scooped them all out of the drawer and slammed it shut. He'd dive back into the darkest parts of his life a thousand times if it meant bringing his son home.
