Scorpius' second year at Hogwarts had come one faster than Draco would have liked to admit. A whirlwind of letters had flown through the house from September to April, full of adolescent adventures that needed constant re-telling. Draco and Astoria would at once smile and cringe at the mishaps their "wayward" son would find himself in.

Well you see, it wasn't really MY fault that Flint fellow got a broken nose… I wasn't exactly aiming the hex at him, he just got in the way…

Albus and I tried out for the quidditch team and we didn't make it this year. I guess they were too intimidated by our natural talent.

Hugo. And. Lily. Need. To. STOP. Following. Us. It's annoying. Plus I think Lily MIGHT have a crush on me, which is in no way shape or form good. She's much too young.

Draco had snorted at that. "So are you." He had muttered with a smile that November day.

Albus, Rose and I have decided that detention with Filch is not exactly exciting. He keeps threatening to string us up by our toes.

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THE KITCHENS! IT'S A BLOODY MIRACLE! Rose just thinks Albus, James and I are pigs though.

These sort of instances, big and small kept happening until Scorpius came home for the Easter holiday. Scorpius had come home at first very excited to see his parents and grandparents (they were much more mellow these days, at least, his mother was). Yet when Scorpius found out that it would be spent at his grandparents manor he had cringed and became the poster child for doom and gloom.

"I don't like that house," Scorpius had whispered to the floor, not daring to look at his father, dragging his right toe in a circular motion. "It's so… cold. It feels like ghosts live there, but you know, the ones you can't see."

Draco could never blame his son for feeling this way. Draco now hated that house and no fond memory that he might have had of it before the war remained in his mind. The screams of the dead and dying still echoed through the corridors, and he never dared go down into that horrid basement.

"I'm sorry, son," Draco had said gently, kneeling in front of his boy and pulling his chin up so their eyes met. "But your grandparents are nearly dragons now, and they get grumpy when they travel."

Scorpius giggled involuntarily and Astoria, looking on, smiled.

Entering Malfoy Manor was like entering a cage again for Draco. He looked around and nothing had changed except the scourging of the blood stains from the floor. Narcissa and Lucius greeted their grandson by spoiling him with chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and cauldron cakes. Astoria turned to her husband and rolled her eyes, but she was grinning all the same. Draco tried to smile but it faltered.

Dinner that evening had started out pleasant enough. The sat at a long oak table, polished to shining perfection. It was not the same table that Draco had watched as Professor Charity Burbage was devoured… His mother and him had burned it.

The air she had dangled from, however, was still there.

Suddenly Lucius turned to young Scorpius as he was devouring a tender piece of beef and asked,

"I've heard, my boy, that you've been… consorting with a Potter and a Weasley,"

Draco and Astoria both visibly stiffened. Narcissa frowned at her husband, possessing more tact. Draco had done his best to keep Scorpius' school life away from his father's knowledge. The pure blood circle of families, especially the older generations, was tight though. Of course Lucius would have heard about it eventually through the grape vine.

"Albus and Rose!" Scorpius said, beaming, completely unaware of the tension in the room.

Lucius began to open his mouth, his old and hardened face tightening, but Draco spoke up.

"Yes, Father, they are his very best friends. Quite lovely, really. Wouldn't you agree Astoria?"

"Yes, quite so. Ever so delightful."

The emphasis on their words did not escape the elder Malfoys. Lucius looked like he was about to speak again until Narcissa laid a hand on his arm and shook her head.

Later that night as Astoria and Draco laid in bed, Draco found it impossible to sleep. Astoria breathed softly next to him but Draco could not find rest. He looked around his room, gazing at the old Slytherin and quidditch posters he had thought were so cool as a teenager. The figures on them moved slowly, almost lazily, as the old paper was aging without any proper care.

Then he remembered coming to his room every night with the knowledge that beasts like Fenrir Greyback and his own aunt were downstairs. He would shiver in bed for hours, afraid that any one of them would go crazy and just… kill them all. There were times he would be put in charge of the dungeon that their basement had become downstairs. A week afterwards he would scream into his pillow.

Slowly and carefully he got up from bed. Kissing Astoria on the forehead he hoisted himself away from her and, for some reason, started to walk out of the room and down the hall. Something was pulling him to Scorpius' room. It was a room his father and mother had made just for him, completely new and unused before he was born.

That did not stop the ghosts.

He found Scorpius sniveling into his pillow, his hands white as he clutched the sheets. Draco slowly wandered over to him, sat down beside him and patted his hair.

Scorpius flinched but them recognized the weathered face of his father and propelled himself into his embrace.

"Someone keeps yelling and screaming," he sobbed, burying himself into his father's strong chest. "And another person won't stop… laughing at them."

Draco raised his head so his son wouldn't see the tears fill his eyes. A wet trail was left on his cheek.

"They're just nightmares, your imagination," he lied. He was better at lying now. "I'm here, you're safe. Safe and sound."

Scorpius sniffled.

"I feel like a baby. I'm not five anymore!"

"No you're not," Draco said somberly, holding his son close. "And you don't know haw sad that makes me."

He settled his son in bed and laid down beside him. Scorpius, trying to regain his composure, glared at him. Draco gave a watery chuckle. "Indulge your old man once, Soon I won't be able to pick you up anymore either."

Scorpius gave a pathetic glare and let himself fall asleep next to his father. When Scorpius began snoring softly, Draco whispered,

"I'm sorry."

It fell on deaf ears.