Chapter 6
“I’ve not seen anything like it. I don’t even know where to start with my research.” Harry was slumped in his desk chair, sat opposite Ore, his favourite co-worker, and the only other Healer on the ward with the same specialisation in more serious childhood illnesses. Scorpius’ first observation appointment was that afternoon, and Harry felt like he had no idea what he was doing. He was foraying in the dark, with no real plan on how to get Scorpius better.
“If it were me, I would start with researching into the family's medical history. Just because you’ve not seen this in another child doesn’t mean it's not happened before. You’ve only been a paediatric healer for about four years. Just going off statistics, it's likely you’ve not seen half the magical afflictions children can fall victim to. Read up on the family history, look for records of the same symptoms, or weak magic in childhood, or late-stage core development. Start there and work forwards. Let me know what you find, and I'll see if I have the time to help you.” Ore said, calm and collected as ever. She was like a still, calm lake to Harry’s raging ocean.
“I could marry you. I guess I’m spending the rest of my morning in the archives.” Harry said, grinning at Ore before standing and pulling his healer’s robes on. He never wore them on the ward, but he always wore them out and about in the wider hospital, he felt they made him look more professional.
“I’m already married, you fool. I’ll see you for lunch, yes? And we can discuss if you’ve found anything.” Ore said, laughing and getting ready to leave herself.
Harry paced it down to the archives which were stored in these great underground caverns. Each ‘room’- though they were more like caves- was dedicated to each ward in the hospital above, and then the filing cabinets were labelled alphabetically by surname. The paediatric archive was the smallest, and Harry zeroed in on the cabinet labelled “L-P” and started rifling through.
There was nothing under Malfoy, other than Harry’s own transcript of his last two appointments with Scorpius. Nothing at all, for the whole family. Harry kept searching, wondering if they’d been misplaced, but he couldn’t find anything at all.
He looked under ‘Black’ for Narcissa, and only found documents detailing a time when Sirius had been brought in by the Potter family for injuries sustained at school. It hit him in the gut, to see Sirius’ name. He felt winded, like his lungs were being crushed in the fists of memory. In his mind’s eye, he saw Sirius’ face, the way Sirius had been staying at Grimmauld with the Order. His handsome face, his eyes watery from whiskey and red wine, his hair tied up in a bun secured with his wand.
Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted Sirius back.
With shaking hands, he carefully re-filed the documents, before finding an empty bit of wall and sitting against it. He found this was best, when he was reminded of the war; of his childhood, of anything he ever experienced before he turned twenty. He just had to sit down and let the memories wash over him. When it felt natural to think of other things- what he wanted for dinner, the next episode of his tv show, the current chapter of his book- he knew it was safe to get up again, to keep going, to resume his normal life.
So he sat, leant up against the stone walls, surrounded by the stories of every child that had passed through his ward after the year 1672, and let himself have a little cry as he thought about Sirius, and Remus, and his parents, and all the things they never got to do. Then he found himself thinking of Teddy, and all the things he could do with Teddy, all the ways he could prove to Teddy how much he loved him. Then he wondered what Teddy was up to, what he was spending his Saturday doing; likely studying under Andromeda’s strict tutelage. And then Harry knew he was okay, that the episode had passed. The tears had dried on his cheeks and he had stopped trembling. Slowly, Harry stood and dusted off his robes before making his way back to the ward to prepare for his appointment with the Malfoy’s.
“Scorpius, Nurse Daisy is going to help you with some fun activities for a few minutes, does that sound okay? And daddy is going to hang out with me in my office and we’ll do boring adult stuff and talk about business.” Harry addressed Scorpius, who was a very serious young boy, he was coming to discover. Much like his father, he was reserved in public, sort of aloof, or as aloof as a five year old could be. He cracked under any compliments and his true nature shined through. He was a very smiley boy, and very attached to his father.
He looked to Malfoy now, eyes worried at the prospect of being taken too far away from him. Malfoy crouched down to his level, and Harry watched in wonder at how quickly Scorpius folded himself into his father’s embrace. Teddy had never done that, at that age. Had always been frightfully independent. Maybe it was because he didn’t have real parents-
Harry shook the thought off. That was a dark path to follow and he wasn’t going to let it get to him. Instead, he observed as Malfoy whispered soft assurances to Scorpius, accompanied by many kisses to the forehead and hair. Malfoy kissed his son a lot, Harry had noticed. The physical affection between them was greatly unexpected. Harry racked his brain for memories of Lucius ever touching Malfoy like that, but he couldn’t find them, so it clearly wasn’t a learned behaviour.
Eventually, after a few sniffles and the threat of tears, Scorpius tentatively lay his little hand in Daisy’s, and the two of them went off down the corridor. Harry led Malfoy back to his office.
“They won’t start without us, don’t worry. I just had a couple questions to ask and I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable discussing them around your son.” Harry explained as he sat down, taking a moment to watch Malfoy as he did the same. Today, Malfoy was in dark grey slacks and a very soft looking navy knitted jumper, which made his paleness all the more striking. He looked nervous at what Harry had said.
“It's not anything serious or medical, just questions of a more personal nature, but they can’t be avoided I’m afraid.” Harry was trying to be reassuring- hell must have frozen over, for the day had come when he was reassuring Draco sodding Malfoy- but judging by the deer in headlights look Malfoy was currently sporting, he hadn’t done a very good job.
“I need to start my research with your family medical history. I went down to the archives this morning but I was unable to find anything under Malfoy or Black, which is generally quite worrying, but also frustrating because I’m afraid I need an understanding of the family medical history to try and gain some insight into whatever is going on with Scorpius.” Harry looked at Malfoy, suddenly realising that the lack of medical records was certainly tied to whatever illegal activities the families were involved in. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion, wondering if Malfoy’s response would require a collaboration with the DMLE. Whatever expression was on his face was making Malfoy shift nervously in his seat, and Harry felt a sickening sense of twisted nostalgia as he convinced himself that Malfoy was up to something once again.
“We’re not in the archives because the archives began around the same time as Saint Mungo’s started treating muggleborn witches and wizards. All the families in the sacred twenty-eight hired their own private healers and physicians and potioneers. It is not a part of our history that I take pride in, and I regret immensely how deeply and how far back our anti-muggle prejudice goes, but that's the reason why.” Malfoy looked out of the tiny fake window and started chewing on one of his hangnails, his lips tightening. Just like that, Harry deflated.
He realised he was fully ready to call the aurors on a father of a sick six year old who had just come to him for help. Disgusted with himself, Harry thought of the way Scorpius clung to Malfoy; how sweet Malfoy was with his son, how gentle. Harry hadn’t hated himself in a long time, but he hated himself then.
“Would there be any medical records kept at the manor, then?” Harry asked, trying to maintain his veneer of professionalism, thin as it may be. The colour drained from Malfoy’s cheeks, and Harry noticed that his finger was dripping blood onto his lap, and his lips were stained with it. It made him look biblical.
“I wouldn’t know.” Malfoy said flatly. “I guess you could owl my- my mother may have them to hand. I would ask you not to reveal the specifics of the situation. I have not seen my mother for nigh on six years.”
It was like all the air had been taken from Harry for the second time that day. Malfoy had said he was living with muggles, yes, but Harry hadn’t expected that he had taken it that far. He was still envisioning Sundays and holidays at the manor, Scorpius running rampant with the house elves, stiff conversations over tea in the drawing room. He hadn’t realised-
“I’m sorry. If I need to owl her, I will be as vague as possible, or I’ll lie, whichever feels easiest. I could always say Mungo’s is trying to fill the gaps in its records or something. Also- and I’m sorry if this too is a personal question, but I would also need the medical history of Scorpius’ maternal line.”
“Oh.”
Harry watched as Malfoy sat and stared for a few minutes. He needed a nap. Today had been too many emotions for him to handle, and forcing Malfoy to talk about what were clearly difficult topics was really not helping him feel better.
“Yes, of course. Scorpius’ mother is Astoria Greengrass. The Greengrasses are also sacred twenty-eight, so you would also have to owl them directly. If you are going to do this, I suggest using your lie.” Malfoy’s tone seemed almost wry then, which Harry noticed as he processed the information about Scorpius’ mother. He knew nothing about the Greengrasses, and his impulsive nature was telling him to ask more questions, to try and uncover the unorthodoxy of Scorpius’ birth, but he held back. Not only was he a professional, he also knew there was no way in hell that Malfoy would tell him anything.
“Healer Potter, if you need the medical records of the children, may I suggest requesting to look through Hogwarts’ archive? I know the hospital wing has an archiving system similar to Mungo’s, and the Blacks, Greengrasses and Malfoy’s were all attendees.” Malfoy said after a bout of silence, and Harry could’ve smacked himself for being so stupid. Of course the Hogwarts articles were the place to start. They contained all information about all children from the ages of eleven to seventeen going back centuries.
He scribbled down a reminder to owl McGonagall as soon as possible, before leading Malfoy out of his office and off to see Scorpius.
***
Draco watched from his uncomfortable plastic chair as Daisy and Potter had Scorpius do exercises with various magic objects, with the two healers casting constant spells over his son and the objects Scorpius was playing with to get a measure of the function of his magical core. He couldn’t help but smile at how carefree Scorpius seemed, not caring that he was being so closely watched.
Appreciating the chance for a break, Draco pulled out the small book of poetry he had been slowly making his way through, and began to read.
After about an hour, they were finished, and Draco found himself back again in Potter’s office, Scorpius sat beside him playing with some of his muggle toys that Draco had brought from home. Potter had explained that their observations had confirmed their hypothesis that Scorpius’ core wasn’t developing in line with his age, but they still didn’t know why. Draco wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. He didn’t care about the strength of Scorpius’ magic, in fact, he wouldn’t have cared if Scorpius had been born without it, but the magical core was a vital organ, so his son was essentially experiencing organ failure, like if his heart of liver hadn’t developed properly, and that was deeply worrying.
“Do you have any more questions?” Potter asked at the end of their conversation, and Draco somehow found himself asking, “What made you become a paediatric healer?” he wasn’t sure why he asked the question- it felt impolite, but he was curious, and Draco had never been known for his politeness, really. Potter considered the question briefly before answering.
“Actually, it was your cousin, Teddy. After the war, Andromeda went a little bit off the deep end- you know, no Tonks, no Ted, no Remus, and a newborn to look after? It was just a bit too much for her. And being a single mother is hard enough at the best of times. With Tonks, she had Ted, you know? She had help, and with Teddy she had nothing, and so I thought I’d help, you know? He’s my godson, and the role of a godfather is to step in if something happens to the parents, right? That was my responsibility, so I took it. Andromeda bought a cottage on the Cornish coast and the Weasley’s helped us fix it up, and I became a dad, sort of. At this point, you know, I was still planning to join the aurors when Teddy was a bit older and the world had sort of calmed down- Ron and I always planned to join together, you know? But between Fred and Australia, he wasn’t ready either. But then, when Teddy was about two, he got sick. Like, really sick. And Andromeda and I spent weeks here, pacing the halls, and relying on other people for his safety, and I don’t know, I just thought- I want to know that when Teddy needs help I can give it to him. He’s too precious for me to place his care entirely in the hands of other people, so you know.I moved to London, I trained as a paediatric doctor. And now I’m here.”
“And now you’re here.” Draco said, slightly at a loss. Potter had always been too self-sacrificing for his own good. Too many questions were swirling around his mind. “Are you happy, here?” he finally asked, and Potter sort of gaped at him.
“Oh. Uhm, yes? I suppose. Sorry, no one’s ever asked me that before.”
“No one’s ever asked if you’re happy?” Draco asked, shocked. Surely Potter was never without his Weasley’s. Did they not care?
“In general, yes, of course, but not here. They ask me if I enjoy it, or if I find it fulfilling, or if I’ll ever do something with my life that's for me and not for anyone else- or, rather, Hermione asks me that last one. No one ever asks me if my job makes me happy. It's sick children, you know? It seems a bit macabre.”
“I didn’t ask if the sick children made you happy, Potter. I asked if the job does.” Draco said, frowning. “Its not a moral judgement. You’re allowed to work somewhere that doesn’t make you happy, I was just curious.”
“Yes, I suppose it does make me happy. I get to meet new people, and help them, and I love kids. I find them much easier than adults, to be honest with you. They’re more straight forward.” Potter responded and Draco nodded, not sure why he cared so much that Potter was happy.
“What do you do?” Potter asked, and Draco couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or asking to be polite.
“I work with a legal firm. It's really not very interesting, but it pays the bills and then some, and it's good hours, given that I’m Scorpius’ primary caregiver.” Draco responded. He quite liked his job, to be honest. He went into the office for nine am every day, and was home by five without fail, and it was a lot of long, boring reading, but the women in the building had all adopted him, and they made sure he ate lunch and bought him cups of tea and they all bought Scorpius birthday presents.
“How did you get into law? Its muggle law, right?” Potter asked, his gaze intense. Draco felt a bit like a blooming flower with the full weight of Potter’s attention on him. He desperately wanted to please, to say the right thing, to seem interesting- to seem worthy of that emerald stare.
“My father. He spent my childhood grooming me to follow in his footsteps in wizarding politics and that involved learning about wizarding law. During my house arrest, I surmised that the basic concepts of muggle law must be similar enough to wizarding law, and if I was good at one I could become good at the other, so I secretly owl-ordered muggle law textbooks through flourish and blotts, claiming it was part of my probation, to learn about muggles, and I studied. Hard. then, during the pregancy, I-” Draco pondered how much of his history he wanted to reveal to Potter.
“During the pregancy I knew I couldn’t let my child grow up in the Manor like I did. Its the most loveless place you’ve ever seen, and I knew if there was one thing my child would be, it would be loved. So I made a plan to escape, and in order to do that I needed to have something to fall back on, something I could use to provide for my family, so I studied muggle law properly. Then, when I moved to- where I live now, I may or may not have used a little bit of magic to charm my way into being a paralegal. Whilst I did that, I undertook training to be a solicitor, which is what I work as now.”
“Huh. and does that make you happy?” Potter parroted back at him, an amused glint in his eye.
“I suppose. The job itself doesn’t, but the fact that it allows me to provide for Scorpius and spend lots of time with him makes me happy. The people I work with make me happy.” Draco responded, not really having thought about it before.
“Well then. Look at us, huh? If you’d told fifteen year old me that we’d be here he’d have put me in Janus Thickey.” Potter said, smiling at Draco. His teeth were all white and straight, and they glowed against his dark skin. Draco smiled back, but he was worried it came out as more of a grimace.
“Well. I should let you continue with your work. Shall we return next saturday? Same time?” Draco asked, standing up and motioning for Scorpius to do the same.
“Yes, that works. See you then.” Potter said, before waving to Scorpius in a way that Draco tried not to call adorable, and Draco ushered his son into the corridor before apparating them both home.
***
Harry drained his pint glass, taking as long as possible to avoid Hermione’s probing questions. A very childish part of him had hoped that seeing Malfoy as part of his work would generate gossip for him to bitch about with his friends and fuel their nostalgia, but Malfoy really was like a changed man. He was quite quiet, for the most part. Clearly devoted to his son, which only became more obvious with each minute spent in their company. Harry was sort-of waiting for the penny to drop, for Scorpius to do something that made Malfoy snap, or for Malfoy to slip up and complain about the muggles he apparently spent so much time with, but neither happened. Malfoy had seemingly unending patience for his son and muggles alike.
He was an enigma. He was almost always dressed in smart casual, but his hair was rarely that neat- chopped in wavy curtains that seemed hugely impractical, always falling in his face. Malfoy would always just tuck it behind his ear, not seeming to care that it made it bumpy or frizzy or greasy. More than once now Scorpius had come in wearing girls clothes, which was also intriguing. Harry didn’t think it would be naive to assume purebloods were sticklers for cisheteronormativity, but Scorpius came in wearing skirts and dresses and fairy wings just as frequently as he came in wearing trousers and button down shirts and blue tops with dinosaurs on. The vast majority of the toys he brought with him were muggle, as were the books. Harry couldn’t work it out.
“Malfoy’s fine, ‘Mione, thanks for asking.” Harry eventually replied, leaving her waiting after seeing the look on her face that usually led to some sort of psychoanalysis that re-arranged how worldview. He really wasn’t in the mood for one of them tonight. He wanted to just get tipsy and then go to bed.
“Mm, fine? How’s Scorpius?” Hermione took his hint, changing the subject easily, even if she didn’t stray far.
“I don’t know.” Harry responded honestly. “I still can’t figure out what’s wrong with his core, or how to fix it, but its clearly affecting his immune system. Every other week he comes in with a cold or something, causing much more severe symptoms than it should. Malfoy says its been like that for around a year, so I’ve got him on immune-bolstering potions as well as all sorts of vitamins. Poor boy probably drinks more potions than water these days. If its genetic, I think it comes from Malfoy’s genetics, so I really need this warrant to access the medical records, and hopefully they’ll tell me what to do, only you know what its like with the DMLE, so much red tape. You really need to suspect a crime to get a warrant, and Narcissa’s not done anything but be difficult, and I can hardly get her arrested for that now can I?” Harry sighed, the stress of the case creeping back into the corners of his mind.
“I just feel so helpless, you know? He’s so small, and so lovely, like honestly ‘Mione- the sweetest kid you’ve ever met, and each week he comes in and I still have no answers for them.”
Harry shook his head, and over the table Hermione clasped his hand in her warm, dry one and he felt a bit better.
“Lets talk about something else, this is my one night where I leave work at the door, you know?” he asked, and Hermione took charge of the conversation, telling Harry all about her parents retirement plans, and Harry settled in to discuss the merits of buying a countryhouse in kent or in wiltshire.