Chapter 1
The waiting room of the Ministry of Magic was stifling, overcrowded, and—Draco was certain—a direct offshoot of hell itself. Between crying children, bickering witches, and the acrid stench of burnt parchment, he sat perched on an uncomfortable chair, Scorpius squirming restlessly in his arms.
“Just a few more minutes, my little dragon,” Draco murmured, bouncing his son gently while trying to focus on the form in his hand. His fingers were sticky with… something. Merlin’s beard, he wasn’t even sure what it was. Porridge? Drool? Something green and suspiciously slimy that he decided not to investigate further.
An impatient throat-clearing made him glance up. The witch behind the counter extended her bureaucratic wand with a flick, pointing at the line he’d missed. “The middle name, Mr… Black.”
It still felt strange hearing that name. Black. Not Malfoy. Not anymore.Pressing his lips together, Draco scribbled the missing name: Scorpius Hyperion Black. A fresh start. A safe name, far removed from curses and bloodlines. But the paperwork? Utterly intolerable.Scorpius started to cry. Quietly at first, then louder. Draco could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. “Not now, little one. Please. Just a few more seconds and—”
“You do know you can’t bribe him, right?”
The voice hit him like a lightning bolt—deep, lightly amused, and… bloody hell. Draco looked up and felt his stomach drop.
Harry Potter.
Of course. Of course, it had to be Harry Bloody Potter finding him at what was, undoubtedly, one of the most pathetic moments of his life. And naturally, Harry had to look like he’d just stepped out of a recruitment poster for the Auror Department: casual yet competent, with artfully messy hair that somehow still looked maddeningly attractive. And that uniform—it fit like a second skin.
“Potter,” Draco said dryly. “Here to complete my humiliation? Or are you simply living proof that my life is a cosmic joke?”
Harry smiled—that infuriatingly genuine smile that had unnerved Draco since Hogwarts. “Just here by chance. But hey, looks like you’ve got your hands full.” He leaned in, and before Draco could protest, Harry had gently taken Scorpius out of his arms.
“What in Merlin’s—”
“Relax.” Harry rocked Scorpius expertly, his movements confident and practiced. The crying stopped almost instantly, the little boy staring up at Harry with wide, silver eyes. Draco hated it, but he couldn’t look away. Harry Potter holding his child. And looking so damn natural doing it.
“Of course, the savior of the wizarding world has to show off,” Draco muttered, trying to mask his unease. “What’s next? Changing nappies and brokering world peace while you’re at it?”Harry grinned. “Nappy changes? Please. Three years of Teddy Lupin hardened me. And world peace is a stretch, but I could at least help manage your chaos—you look like you haven’t slept in days, and I’d wager the word ‘shower’ is a distant memory.”
Draco glared as he signed the last line of the form. “Thank you, Potter. That’s… deeply uplifting. I feel significantly less humiliated now.”
Harry’s expression softened, and suddenly the room felt too small. Too warm. Too much. “Draco,” he said quietly, “I was joking. You’re doing great.”
The words hit him. Too deep. Too direct. Draco clenched his jaw. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“I do,” Harry replied, his gaze steady. “I know what it feels like to think you’re not enough. But I also know that you’re trying harder than most people ever would. You’ve always been a prince of ambition and elegance, Draco Malfoy… er, Black.” Draco felt the words stick in his throat. Years ago, he’d believed he and Harry would never exchange more than a passing glance. Now it was worse. Now Harry actually saw him.
“I’m trying,” Draco admitted finally. “But I have no idea what I’m doing. I just know he won’t have the life I had. No curses. No hate. No suffocating name he has to carry. Just…” His voice faltered. “Just love. Love he’ll never have to doubt. Unconditional.”
Harry nodded, his eyes flicking to Scorpius, who was now happily chewing on Harry’s sleeve. “And that’s why you chose Black?” Draco looked down at his son, his voice soft. “My mother loved me. That’s all I want for him—to always feel loved.”
For a moment, Harry said nothing. Then: “You’ll do it. I know you will. But—” A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “I could still give you some tips. I’m a pro when it comes to sealing charms on nappies and the like.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You want to help me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe because I know what it’s like to mess up and still want a second chance.”
Draco’s heart stuttered, and he had to clear his throat. “Fine, Potter. But if you start giving me unnecessary breastfeeding advice, I’ll throw you out of my cottage.”
Harry laughed, and Draco felt the sound echo in his chest. Merlin’s cursed trousers—that smile might kill him one day.
And yet, he let Harry keep holding his son.