Author's Note: This chapter is kind of short but it had to end where I ended it, you'll see that when you get there (I hope) and it's not that short really...

Anyway, enjoy!

-SQ

Disclaimer: Despite my kind of lengthy absence between originally posting the last chapter and this one, I have still not acquired the rights to Harry Potter.

Chapter Eighteen: Nothing Is Going To Change Your Mind, Is It?

Finally! Albus made to bolt into the hospital room, but at the last second he hesitated and stepped back, allowing Draco to enter before him. Albus followed after, hanging back in the doorway.

Scorpius was sitting on a white, sterile looking hospital bed at the far end of the room. Albus was relieved to see a light in his eyes and faint blush in his cheeks. Scorpius looked tired, but healthier than he had in weeks.

Draco crossed the room purposefully and stood in front of Scorpius.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Father, truly," said Scorpius. "Much better. They ran a few tests and then gave me a couple potions to clear my headache. I'm tired, but other than that I'm well."

Draco turned to the healer for confirmation.

The green-robed woman nodded her head. "Everything seems to be in order now. I can prescribe a potion for him to take to help him recover his strength more quickly, but other than that exercise and a few good-sized meals and your son will be as good as new."

"What was it, then?" asked Draco with a touch of impatience. "What made my son so ill?"

The healer frowned. "Well, as best as I can work out, young Master Malfoy was suffering from a flu-like virus that is normally a Muggle illness. As such, wizards have almost no immune build-up against it. Added to probable magical contamination... But if that is the case, in all honesty, Mr. Malfoy, your son should not have survived without professional medical care. I am baffled."

Draco's pale face went even paler and he raised his hand as though to touch Scorpius's cheek.

"I'm fine now, Father," said Scorpius. He peered around the room. "Where is Albus Severus?"

Draco stiffened slightly at this question, but then he relaxed slightly and jerked his head toward the doorway.

"Albus Severus!" said Scorpius, catching sight of the dark-haired boy. "What are you doing over there? Come here."

Albus half-glanced at Draco, who gave him a small, curt nod. Then he raced toward the bed and threw his arms around Scorpius.

Scorpius grinned and hugged Albus back.

"Albus Severus, I'm fine, really. Hush."

Albus felt Scorpius's head for the cut from the coffee table. It wasn't there. He gave him one last squeeze and drew back.

Draco was staring at the two boys in ill-concealed amazement. He had never seen Scorpius do more than shake hands without discomfort, and here he was allowing the Potter boy to practically maul him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The two boys caught Draco's look and scooted a respectable distance away from one another. The healer cleared her throat for attention.

"Albus Severus Potter, I presume?"

Albus nodded, feeling suddenly shy.

To everyone's surprise, including his own, Draco spoke next.

"Healer Shelby, is it? You said you were baffled as to how my son could have survived his illness. I think a large portion of the credit goes to Potter."

The healer turned her gaze questioningly on Albus. He shrugged and stared at his lap, embarrassed.

"It was nothing. I mean...I just..." he shrugged again. "I... He's my best mate. I couldn't let him"—he swallowed—"you know... and there wasn't any Floo powder or owls...and I can't Apparate... I only did what I had to... it almost wasn't enough."

The healer's eyebrows rose.

"Am I to understand that you, a sixteen-year-old boy, managed, with only what was available in Master Malfoy's home, to see Master Malfoy safely through his illness?"

Albus shrugged again. He had a sudden appreciation for what his dad must feel like when everyone went on about all the stuff he did as a kid.

"That is...that is scarcely short of miraculous," said the Healer. "Have you ever thought about becoming a healer?"

"It wasn't all me," protested Albus. "Scor's the one who fought through it. I was just...you know...there."

"And probably," said Draco, giving him a look full of meaning, "if you hadn't been, he wouldn't have had the strength to fight it." He turned to the healer. "Thank you. If that is all then I will take the potion you prescribe and then we will take our leave. I have some things I would like to discuss with my son."

*****TWAMM*****

Albus and the two Malfoys walked in silence through the corridors of the hospital toward the Floo. Albus and Scorpius exchanged nervous glances behind Draco's back, not quite sure what to expect once the three of them were alone once more.

They arrived at the fireplace in the reception room and once again Draco stepped aside and motioned for Albus to go first. Figuring he wouldn't accomplish anything by stalling, except perhaps to annoy Draco, Albus took a handful of Floo Powder, threw it on the fire, stepped into the flames, and said clearly, "Malfoy Manor."

Scorpius looked at his father, wondering if he was going to take this opportunity to say something to him without the chance of Albus overhearing. But all he did was take a handful of Floo Powder, throw it on the flames, push Scorpius ahead of him into the fireplace, and say, "Malfoy Manor," in a loud, clear voice.

The world spun dizzyingly, but this time it didn't make Scorpius feel nauseous. He felt really and truly well, as he had not since the first day of the summer holidays. He was tired, yes, but it was the natural kind of tired from having a long, eventful day, not the bone-aching exhaustion that came from being ill. The world around Scorpius spun to a stop and he and Draco stepped out onto the hearth in the parlor of Malfoy Manor. Scorpius saw Albus and smiled at him, trying to tell him without words that everything was going to be okay. That, no matter what Draco had to say, Scorpius still loved Albus.

"I'm going to check on your mother," said Draco, addressing Scorpius. "Scorpius, wait for me in my study. Potter, you can stay here."

Albus nodded and sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa. Scorpius waited until his father had started up the stairs and then went over to Albus, taking his face in his hands.

"Are you alright?"

Albus nodded, pressing his cheek into Scorpius's hand.

"I'm just so glad you are."

Scorpius smiled and bent to kiss to top of Albus's head.

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. I promise. I love you."

"I love you too," said Albus, pressing his lips to the curve of Scorpius's neck.

Scorpius felt a shiver go through him.

"Later," he murmured, pulling away regretfully.

"Later," agreed Albus.

Scorpius gave Albus's hand a final squeeze and then crossed the room to the door of his father's study. Though he hadn't let on to Albus, he was nervous about the talk he was about to have with his father. Only very serious discussions took place in this room, which was cold and austere and had always made Scorpius nervous when he was younger; it was the kind of place that made you feel that you had to tiptoe past it and whisper while you were inside. He sat down at his father's desk and waited, schooling his posture, as his father had taught him, to look unaffected and dignified, but also at ease. He watched the clock while tuning his ears to the door, so that he would hear footsteps approaching and would not jump when his father entered the room.

Three minutes later the door opened.

"Scorpius, relax, you are not on trial for murder, this is not your death sentence. I simply wish to talk."

Scorpius let his shoulders fall ever-so-slightly as Draco sat down facing him across the desk.

Draco was silent for a moment, considering his son; he was nearly a man now. Where had his little boy gone? Draco knew he had made many mistakes in parenting that child, and he only hoped that he had succeeded at least in making Scorpius into a better man than he was. He ran a hand through his receding hair.

"Scorpius," he said at last, "this isn't just some way to get at your mother, some foolish form of rebellion or such?"

Scorpius shook his head. "No, Father. This isn't about Mother."

"Then are you just...experimenting or something? Because I suppose I understand that. That you would be...curious, especially with the way your mother has sheltered you."

Scorpius shook his head again. "No, Father, I'm not experimenting, I don't need to be curious, I know what I want. It's taken me a long while to see it, but now I know what I want."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Draco. "Before today I had no indication that you were interested in other boys, not one. And all of a sudden you're...snogging your best friend? You have always liked girls, only girls. I cannot believe that you have been hiding this from your mother and myself for all these years."

"You were right, Father, when you said if Albus hadn't been there I may not have had the strength to fight my illness. I don't think I would have. He's special, Father, I've always known it, I just failed to appreciate it before, to understand what it meant. Yes, I have always liked girls, what other choice did I have? Now I am interested in boys, not instead, but as well. One boy in particular. I never meant to deceive you. I was myself deceived. I was too much my mother's son; she blinded me to my own feelings so much that I had no idea they even existed. But now I do. And I won't ignore them."

Draco sighed. "And nothing is going to change your mind, is it?"

Scorpius shook his head again. "Nothing."

"I want you to be sure," said Draco. "Not just for my sake, or for your mother's. This isn't something you can take back, and it's going to have a lot of consequences. For everyone. There is a boy sitting out there in the parlor who is head-over-heels in love with you. You'd have to be blind not to see it. He'd do anything for you. He would probably die for you. So when you go back out there I want you to be very sure of what you're doing."

"You talked to him," said Scorpius.

Draco nodded. "Yes. Some. Enough to know his love for you is genuine. It is not hard, that boy wears his heart on his sleeve. I might not like it, I don't like it, but if it's what both of you want..."

Scorpius nodded. "It is, Father. I love him. I know that's not what you want to hear, but I do."

Draco sighed defeatedly. "Then I suppose that's it then. You can't stay here, you know that, right?"

Scorpius nodded again. "Yes, I know."

"Your mother will probably disown you."

"I know that too."

Draco rose and Scorpius followed suit.

"Father?"

"Yes."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Scorpius forced himself to meet his father's eyes.

"Will you disown me?"

Draco looked into the eyes that were so like his own and his face softened.

"No matter how you choose to spend your life, you will always be my son."

Scorpius allowed himself to smile. Draco returned the gesture briefly.

"Now come," said Draco, "the Potter boy is probably dying of anxiety waiting for us to return."

"Father," said Scorpius, "he has a name."

"What?"

"Albus Severus. He has a name."

Draco paused. "Yes...well..." he said after a moment, "let us rejoin Albus in the parlor before he worries himself into senility."

AN: Sorry if the explanation of Scor's illness was kind of lame. Really, what he had isn't the point of the fic, what came of the fact that he had it is.

I will read and reply to all of your lovely and helpful reviews. I'm excited, aren't you? ;)

Thanks for reading!

-SQ