Disclaimer: Shockingly, I hadn't acquired the rights to Harry Potter in the week between the last chapter and this one.
Chapter Seventeen: Take a Number
Albus helped Scorpius to his feet.
"Really, Albus Severus, I'm fine," said Scorpius. "There's no need to fuss."
"Yes, but—" started Albus
"I will take my son," said Draco imperiously, clapping a hand on Scorpius's shoulder.
"Father," said Scorpius, rubbing his forehead—it really did hurt something awful—"what about Mother...?"
"I gave her a Calming Draught and a Dreamless Sleep Potion," said Draco, the accusation clear in his voice. "We should be back before she wakes up."
Scorpius nodded wordlessly. A part of him felt guilty about upsetting his mother like that, but it was a very little part.
Draco led the two teenagers to the fireplace.
"Er—Father," said Scorpius. "There isn't any Floo Powder..."
"Even though I distinctly told you to buy some," said Draco disapprovingly. "Luckily I brought some back with me." He removed a small jar from his cloak pocket, unscrewed the lid, and held it out to Albus. "You first, Potter."
Albus glanced back over his shoulder at Scorpius. The blond boy still looked pinched and ill; the priority right was to get him to the hospital. Albus took a pinch of Floo Powder and threw it on the flames, stepping in after it.
"Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!"
After a dizzying minute, Albus was deposited on the hearth of a fireplace in the lobby of Saint Mungo's. He stumbled, caught himself, and stepped a few feet away from the fireplace to dust himself off. Thirty seconds later the fire flared again and Draco stepped out, followed by a rather green looking Scorpius. Albus moved to go to the other boy, but Draco held him back with a glare. Swallowing hard, Albus followed a few steps behind Draco as he steered his son to the front desk.
Draco rapped on the desk to get the receptionist's attention. The receptionist, a young brunette with bad highlights, long, manicured fingernails, and too much make-up looked up with an expression of bored irritation on her face.
"Can I help you?"
"My name is Draco Malfoy. My son is suffering from an unknown and possibly life-threatening illness. We need to see a healer immediately."
"Take a number," said the receptionist in a bored voice.
"What?"
"Are you deaf? Take a number." The girl gestured to a stack of little laminated numbers on the edge of the desk.
"I don't think you understand," said Draco in a low, threatening voice. "We need to see a healer immediately."
"Yeah, yeah," said the receptionist, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. "So does everyone else around here."
"I am Draco Malfoy!" said Draco, slamming his fist down on the desk hard enough to make the laminated numbers jump.
"Listen, Mister Malfoy," said the girl, "I'm not getting paid enough to deal with people like you. Either you take a number and wait like everyone else, or I call security and have them deal with you."
"Father," said Scorpius, laying a hand on his arm. "Father, just take a number."
Draco glared at the girl. "I'm filing a complaint!"
"You do that," she said. "A lot of good it'll do you."
Draco took a number—133—and the three of them found seats between a wizard whose head had swelled to four or five times its usual size and appeared to still be growing, and a little witch who quacked like duck every few seconds. Scorpius, who was still feeling nauseous from the Floo, put his head in his hands, pressing his palms against his eye sockets in a vain attempt to alleviate some of the pain in his head. Albus looked at him in concern.
"Scor—?"
"Don't touch him," snapped Draco. Albus hastily drew his hand back from Scorpius shoulder. "Scorpius, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, Father," said Scorpius. "Just a little tired and dizzy."
The three of them sat there in tense silence for several minutes, waiting for their number to be called.
"One-twenty-nine!"
A woman holding a baby which kept turning into a fish and back again got up and followed the healer out of the room.
"One-thirty!"
A man whose hands and feet were covered in thick black fur and who had a tail protruding from the seat of his trousers sprang up and hurried away.
"One-thirty-one!"
The man with the expanding head rose and teetered after the healer.
"One-thirty-two!"
The quacking woman waddled away, quacking all the while.
"One-thirty-three!"
Scorpius raised his head. The healer was looking around the room expectantly.
Albus extended a hand to help Scorpius to his feet, but Draco got between them. Scorpius waved both of their hands away and rose on his own. The three of them crossed the room to the healer and followed him through a large white door and to a lift.
"Name of patient?" said the healer, taking out a clipboard.
"Scorpius Malfoy," said Draco.
The healer wrote this down on his clipboard. "Age?"
"Seventeen."
"Reason for visit?"
"Unknown and possibly life-threatening illness."
"Previous medical concerns or conditions?"
"Only a slight allergy to cats."
"Any allergies to any medications?"
"None."
"Any pre-existing or previous ailments, injuries, or medical conditions?"
"None," growled Draco.
The healer jotted all of this down on his clipboard, walking all the while. "Follow me please."
He led them into the lift and pressed the button marked 2. The lift rose with a slight jolt and stopped with a ding, the doors opening on a sunny yellow hallway. The healer led them to another room which appeared to be a small waiting room. There were several doors leading off of it.
"Healer Shelby is waiting for you in room three, Master Malfoy," said the healer.
Scorpius entered the indicated room. Albus and Draco made to follow him, but the healer blocked their path. "Please wait here."
"But—" said Draco and Albus together.
"I assure you, Healer Shelby will take excellent care of him." And with that, the man swept out the way they had come, leaving Albus and Draco alone in the little waiting room.
Albus sat uncomfortably in a cushy yellow chair, avoiding Mr. Malfoy's gaze. He was sure the man was about to start yelling at him any second now. He had always been intimidated by Scorpius's father and right now the suspense was killing him.
Just get it over with already!
But Draco said nothing. Albus fidgeted with a small hole in the material of the chair, worming his finger in and out, in and out. He traced the vine pattern of the carpet with his eyes, following the loops and swirls until he began to feel dizzy. He could feel beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck.
Finally, Draco broke the silence.
"Would you care to tell me what happened, Potter?"
Albs jumped. "I—ah—"
"You know that I do not tolerate mumbling."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," said Albus. He swallowed hard. "When we got to Malfoy Manor Scorpius was fine," he said, willing himself not to stutter. "The next day he started seeming a little...off, b-but it wasn't anything major, and I thought I was imagining things." Draco's eyes bored into Albus. "W-when I asked him about it he said he was f-fine so I didn't push. It was only a couple days later, when he c-collapsed while we were flying, that I r-realized he was actually sick."
"Sick how?" said Draco.
"He had a f-fever and was really weak, and he couldn't keep anything d-down either. He kept telling me his was f-fine, but he kept getting worse. I did everything I could th-think of, but nothing seemed to help, his fever kept r-rising and he was becoming delirious. I should have owled someone immediately, but he t-told me not to, and then it was too late, all the owls were g-gone. I couldn't leave him to go get anyone..."
"And then?" prompted Draco.
"And then...he woke up. He was s-still really weak and f-feverish...but he started getting better. And he kept getting better. He d-doesn't have a fever anymore and his strength and appetite are f-finally returning." Albus stared at the floor. "I know you don't l-like me very much right now, Mr. Malfoy, and I don't blame you, but please believe me, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Scorpius. Never."
Draco tapped his long fingers on the armrest of his chair. "And I am to believe that Scorpius was...kissing...you of his own free will?"
Albus's head shot up, his eyes and voice suddenly fierce. "He was! I would never force him! Never!"
Draco eyed the green-eyed boy across from him. "And yet before this I came across nothing that would have led me to believe that my son was...so inclined."
Albus swallowed and lowered his head again. "I think this is something you should talk to Scorpius about."
They lapsed back into silence. Draco took the opportunity to study his son's best friend. Albus had grown into a young man over the last year. While still on the short side, he had filled out, and seemed more...self-assured somehow. Draco remembered that Albus had always been a very timid child, stuttering and avoiding eye contact and hiding behind Scorpius and Rose, Albus's cousin. Draco would have disapproved of his son's friendship with the two—they were a Potter and a Weasley for Merlin's sake!—but, while the girl had always gotten on his nerves, he could never bring himself to truly dislike Albus Potter; the boy was just too...likable. Draco had tolerated the two for Scorpius's sake, confident that the child would outgrow his childhood friends as he got older, as Draco himself had, but time had only seemed to strengthen the bond between them, especially between the two boys. One was hardly ever seen without the other at school, apparently, and even when they were home they were constantly going out to see one another. Draco simply didn't know what to make of it.
And now...Draco shuddered. His son, his son, had been kissing the son of Harry Potter! Of all the people Scorpius could have chosen to kiss! He didn't know if he was more bothered by the fact that Potter was a boy or that he was Harry Potter's son. At least it wasn't that obnoxious girl, said a voice in his head.
Astoria had been in hysterics, and who could blame her? She had always detested homosexuals. Draco had never shared her homophobia; he had always figured that the way other people chose to live their lives had no effect on him. But now that it was his own son...
How could Scorpius be gay? It didn't surprise him that the Potter boy was gay; small, sensitive, emotional, he was just the type, but Scorpius? Scorpius had had more girlfriends than anyone else in his year. And hadn't managed to keep a single one, said that same infuriating voice in Draco's head. Shut up! He thought irritably.
The main question was, if Scorpius really was gay, what was he going to do about it? It was obvious what Astoria's opinion was, but what was Draco's? He didn't like the idea of course, but was it really as big of a deal as Astoria was making it into?
He cast another glance at the young man sitting across from him. Albus was still playing with the hole in the chair cushion; it had become quite sizable by now. He kept casting anxious glances at the door to the room Scorpius was in, as if he could will the Healer to come out, or somehow develop x-ray vision and see what was going on inside.
He's genuinely worried, Draco realized with some surprise. He reminds me of myself when Astoria was in labor with Scorpius. Ugh. Albus Potter reminds me of myself? Merlin help me. But still...
"You really love him, don't you?" said Draco.
Albus jumped and then looked away from the door and toward Draco. There was no malice on the older man's face. Just a kind of...pained incredulity.
"Yes," said Albus. "I really do."
Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but just then the door to room three opened and a female healer stuck her head into the waiting room.
"Mr. Malfoy? Master Potter? You may come in now."
AN: So...nothing was quite resolved yet...sorry. We're getting there, I swear. Even though the three weeks are up there are several more chapters. I'm sure you're devastated, lol. I'm always thrilled to see reviews in my inbox, so don't hesitate to send them my way :)
-SQ