Sickness
The first Wizard Draco saw in five and a half years was Neville Longbottom. Or at least, the first Wizard he saw that he recognised. Draco apparated into the main reception of Saint Mungo’s, Scorpius lying limp in his arms, and found himself staring into the warm brown eyes of the boy he had spent the better half of seven years bullying relentlessly.
Neville looked like he was going to say something, and Draco was rooted to the spot, frozen at the naively unexpected confrontation of his past, but then Scorpius shifted in his arms and groaned weakly, he little pudgy fingers trying to grip at Draco’s shirt collar, and reality came crashing back down. Draco hurried over to the reception desk.
“Name?” the witch behind the desk asked, quill poised above the ‘new patient’ form she had taken from a stack on the desk next to her.
“Scorpius Malfoy. The patient's name, that is.” Draco said, feeling frantic.
“Age?” the reception witch was pretty, in lilac scrubs, her hair in two thick plaits that snaked over her shoulders. She had acrylic nails on.
“Five.” Draco’s heart broke that Scorpius didn’t even have the energy to insist that he was actually five and three quarters thank you very much.
“Known symptoms?”
“Lethargy, um, loss of appetite, he, um, he’s pale, he threw up this morning, he’s barely managing to drink water.” Draco’s panic grew as he listed all the problems he had found with Scorpius. He hefted his son a bit higher up in his arms, transferring Scorpius’ head from his left to his right shoulder. As he did so he noticed that Scorpius’ neck was drenched in sweat.
“I think he might have a fever, he’s burning up.”
“Okay, Mr Malfoy. If you take this form and follow the signs to the paediatric unit, which is just on the second floor, up those stairs you see there, then first door on the left, okay? Give this form into the reception there and someone will see you as soon as possible. Try not to worry, Mr Malfoy, your son will be okay.” The witch smiled warmly at him over the desk, which Draco had not expected, but her kindness eased his nerves just a little bit. He hadn’t expected so much as civility when he came in today, but he knew there was nowhere else he could take Scorpius for help.
“What was your name, please?” Draco asked, even though it wasted precious seconds.
“Mariella.” the witch said, and Draco nodded, trying to smile.
“Thank you so much for all your help, Mariella.” He said, before jogging off to the stairs she had pointed out, trying to be as fast as possible without bouncing Scorpius about too much. He had never been more grateful for his decision to take up spin classes with some of the mums from Scorpius’ school than when he was racing up a staircase with his five year old like a sack of concrete against his chest. He cursed the wizarding world for their lack of lifts as he went, before he came skidding out into a corridor and saw a large flashing sign that read ‘Paediatric Unit’, pointing to a doorway that was painted bright blue and surrounded by little cartoon fish. His ordeal had caused his hair to fall into his face, and Draco tried to blow it out of his eyes as he walked straight over to the reception desk and passed the wizard sitting there Scorpius’ form.
“Thank you Mr- M-Malfoy, please take a seat and someone will see you in a moment.” the Wizard said, stuttering over Draco’s surname when he recognised it, but he rallied impressively, and didn’t even flinch before directing Draco over to a corner of the room filled with sagging, aged sofas, surrounded by boxes of children’s toys and books. Draco dropped himself onto one of the sofas, and felt his thighs turn to jelly as they were finally allowed to rest. He arranged Scorpius on his lap, so he was cradled like a baby in Draco’s arms, and Draco stroked his son’s soft, blond hair away from his sweaty, pale face. Draco pressed a desperate kiss to Scorpius’ forehead and felt relief crash over him like a wave when his son’s eyes fluttered open. Draco smiled at his son, and Scorpius managed a weak smile back before his eyes fell closed again. Draco leant his head against the wall and tried to stem the panic that threatened to overwhelm him as he waited to be called in.
Mr Malfoy?” a lilting, feminine voice cut through Draco’s racing thoughts and he opened his eyes to see a woman standing in the doorway, smiling at him. He was disconcerted by how polite everyone had been. The last time he had been in the wizarding world he had been met- and rightly- with contempt, scorn, malice and hatred wherever he went. It was as if the world had forgotten who he was over the last few years. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Draco stood and followed her out of the room. Her blond hair was cut into a sensible bob which swayed with each step she took. She was dressed in mustard yellow scrubs that blended in with the brightly-painted walls they passed, and Draco appreciated all the efforts made to help the child patients feel more at home in the hospital environment.
“Right, Mr Malfoy. If you could lay your son on that bed for me, and take a seat whilst I run some diagnostics and ask some questions. When did the symptoms start?” the witch said as she closed the door behind him and drew her wand. Draco gently set Scorpius down on the bed in the middle of the room. It had a bright orange blanket, with little snitches fluttering around it. If Scorpius was more lucid, he would demand they take it home with them.
“Well, he started to get sick- what’s today, thursday- monday, maybe was when I first noticed he was lower energy than normal, and he didn’t finish all his dinner, which is unusual. I sort of assumed it was tiredness, or maybe the start of a cold. On Tuesday, he was worse. Pale, sick, didn’t want to eat much at all. I kept him home from school to see if that helped. When he didn’t improve, I took him to the muggle doctors yesterday, and their tests didn’t come up with anything, so I took him home again. I stupidly forgot that it could be magical. Then this morning he was quite sick, and threw up even though he’d barely eaten the last two days, and suddenly I remembered I’d not seen him do any accidental magic, or magic of any form in about a week, so I came straight here.”
Draco was getting agitated as he recounted the week. He waited too long, he knew, but Scorpius often got little colds, and got over them quickly. He was sure after this appointment the witch would run to the prophet and he would be exposed for being a bad father as well as a former death eater.
“I know I should have come in earlier, but he had a cold last month that cleared up in a few days and I just thought this would be the same.” Draco was still standing by Scorpius’ bedside, playing with his son’s hair.
“Mr Malfoy. Please, sit. It’s okay, kids get sick all the time, there’s often no reason to suspect something’s serious before it gets, well, serious. Just sit down there for two ticks and let me cast some more spells, and we’ll see what they tell me.” The witch said kindly, guiding Draco by the elbow to sit in one of the two plastic chairs against the wall of the room. Draco did as told, and stared at his son. He looked so small, lying in the bed which was big enough to accommodate teenagers too. He looked so pale against the loud coloured sheets, his usually ruddy cheeks white, his rosebud lips wan.
“Right, Mr Malfoy.” The Witch started, taking a seat at the little corner desk tucked at the back of the room.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I never caught your name?” He interrupted, chastising himself at his lack of manners.
“I’m Nurse Daisy. Now, Mr Malfoy. I’ve run a number of different diagnostic spells, and they all seem to point to some… issues with Scorpius’ magical core.” it was like she could read his mind, because she rushed on to say, “please, don’t panic. I know that’s easier said than done, but I’m sure everything is going to be okay. I know you’ll have questions, but as of right now I’m afraid I have very few answers. I’m going to go now and get our specialist to come in and take a look, and hopefully he’ll be able to provide some more answers. If you just sit tight here with Scorpius, and I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Nurse Daisy smiled warmly at him, but stood and hurried out of the room before he could ask any of the questions that were threatening to overwhelm whatever was left of his sanity.
The door closed softly behind her, and Draco dragged his chair over to the bedside, taking one of Scorpius’ tiny hands in his big ones. He felt the little fingers squeeze feebly and he looked up to see his son gazing back at him.
“I don’t feel well, Daddy.” Scorpius whispered, pouting, and Draco felt his heart shatter into a thousand fragments that embedded themselves into his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe through the cloud of panic and love that he felt for his son.
“I know, mon chou, I know, but we’re at the special hospital now, and they’re going to make you feel all better, okay? And Daddy’s here and he’s not going anywhere, okay, Scorp?” Draco didn’t know what words would ease the sadness in Scorpius’ eyes, so he just clutched his hand harder.
“Will you sing me a song, Daddy?” Scorpius rasped, and Draco nodded, dropping a kiss to Scorpius’ forehead before clearing his throat. he racked his brain for one he comfortably knew off by heart, before beginning. He and Scorpius loved to listen to music together. Their home was never silent.
“Almost heaven, West Virginia,
Blue ridge Mountains, Shenandoah river.
Life is old there, older than the trees,
Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze…”