Chapter 10
They landed in a large bedroom that reminded Harry of the kind you saw in royal palaces. The large four poster bed sat in the centre of the back wall of the room, and the black mahogany wood was draped with aubergine-coloured fabric. The bed was neatly made but visibly dusty, and Harry guessed this was one of likely countless spare rooms. He wondered if any of the death eaters had slept in the room during the war, then tried not to think about the war too much. Malfoy was pacing, frantic, muttering to himself, and Harry was about to say something when Malfoy got there first.
“Thoughts and opinions on blood magic, Potter.” Malfoy said mildly, even though his face was anything but. He looked so angry even Harry felt scared of him.
“It's dark magic right? Like, illegal?” Harry said, unsure of where this was going but hoping he wasn’t about to be made an accessory to an unhideable crime.
“It didn’t ask you what it was, I said thoughts and opinions.” Malfoy growled, and Harry took a step back.
“I get the feeling you’re going to do it anyway.” Harry responded, trying to keep his voice even.
“Mmm. An ancestor of mine was a great witch.” Malfoy said, turning and walking around the room, inspecting the walls and checking the drawers and cupboards. “And she had a daughter with undiagnosed learning difficulties. I mean, of course they were undiagnosed. No-one ever admits to there being…. Impurities, in the blood, if you will. This daughter of hers used to wander off a lot, and the Manor is a big building, so she created this spell, using blood magic, right?” Malfoy had started to pull paintings off the wall now, checking behind each one, ripping into the canvas to peer inside the frame.
“And this spell, its keyed into the Malfoy blood line, and allows any Malfoy to find their kin at any time. Sort of like a tracking spell. And this ancestor of mine, she took to hiding a map of the manor and its grounds….”
Malfoy trailed off, and kept looking before he shouted, “aha!” so loudly Harry jumped. he slid a piece of parchment from behind a loose wall panel.
“And this map, this map right here,” Malfoy said, brandishing a piece of parchment brown with age in front of Harry.
“This map right here, will allow me to find my son.”
Harry stood back and watched as Malfoy lay the map on a clear bit of carpet and crouched down, his thin shirt straining across his back as he peered at the map, refamiliarising himself with the layout of his ancestral home before me muttered an incantation too softly for Harry to hear, and the map started to glow green. Suddenly, the light faded and two spots right next to each other appeared. Harry peered over Malfoy’s shoulder and saw that they were labelled with Narcissa and Scorpius’ names.
“They’re in the east parlour.” Malfoy muttered, snatching up the map and running out of the room unimaginably fast, leaving Harry sprinting to keep up. They ran up stairs and down stairs and across corridors, before Malfoy skidded to a stop in front of a gruesome tapestry that depicted some sort of township being pillaged and burned. Malfoy gestured at Harry to be silent, before slipping behind the tapestry and holding it out for Harry to duck under his arm. They were in a narrow stone corridor that they crept along, quiet and slow, until Harry could hear murmuring voices that grew louder.
“And where is it that you and your father live, Scorpius?” he heard Narcissa’s voice through the stone. Malfoy paused.
“My daddy said I’m nots allowed to tell that to stwangews.” Scorpius responded, sounding small and scared.
“I’m not a stranger, Scorpius, I’m your grandmother. Now tell me where you live.”
“You’re stwange to me.” Scorpius stubbornly insisted, his inability to form ‘r’s warming Harry’s heart.
“That's my boy.” Harry heard Malfoy mutter beside him, before he started tapping his wand on the stone bricks in an intricate pattern. Suddenly, the wall parted, and they were behind another hanging tapestry.
“Stay here. Try and be helpful if you can.” Malfoy whispered, before stepping out from the tapestry. Harry’s warning died in his throat.
“Mother.” Malfoy’s voice was low and dangerous. It sent shivers up Harry’s spine. Harry slid to the side and slowly peeked round, surveying the room. It was a posh sitting room, filled with glass cupboards filled with tea sets and a set of matching sofas and armchairs. Narcissa was stood in front of the fire, gripping Scorpius’ upper arm so tightly Harry could see the indents from where her nails were digging in. thin rivulets of blood began to stream down his arm.
“Let. Him. Go.” Malfoy commanded, advancing on his mother. Narcissa whipped out her wand and trained it on Malfoy, and Scorpius whimpered.
“Give me back my son, Mother.” Malfoy said again, training his own wand on Narcissa. They made a striking portrait. Harry heard the walls around him groan, as if upset that mother and son had drawn on each other.
“He’s not yours, he’s ours. He’s mine. He was always supposed to be mine. My grandson, who was going to run the Manor when you made it clear you had no interest in being a real Malfoy. Lucius’ new heir, who would make up for your sins!” Narcissa spat the last word as if it were poison, and took a step away from Malfoy, dragging the boy with her.
“Give me my son, mother or I swear to GOD,” Malfoy screamed in a way Harry had never heard before, his face twisting into something ugly. Scorpius began to cry.
“I swear to God, Mother, I will kill you.” Malfoy’s voice broke on the last sentence, and Harry could see tears streaming from his blood shot eyes. His wand arm was trembling, but Harry could see the truth in the statement. For Scorpius, for his son, Malfoy was truly willing to do anything. The walls groaned again at the threat.
Narcissa shook her head, clearly lost for words. Malfoy was openly sobbing now, his chest heaving. “I’ll do it mother. I’ll do anything for him. Anything. I would raze the world to the ground to keep my son safe. He is the most precious thing alive, and you will get your filthy, tainted hands off of him.”
In her shock, Harry saw Narcissa’s hand loosen on Scorpius, and he took his chance, leaping out from behind the tapestry and yelling “accio Scorpius.” he had over cast the spell, and Scorpius’ little body shot through the air, knocking into Harry so hard he fell over backwards. Harry wrapped his arms around Scorpius and rolled, holding Scorpius between his body and the blood red carpet, leaving his back exposed to Narcissa. He just had to hope Malfoy would protect him. He expected duelling, but all he heard from behind him was silence. Scorpius was trembling like a leaf against Harry’s chest, hiccuping sobs being wrenched from his chest.
Harry debated getting up and running back into the tunnel when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and he was being spun through time and space. He clutched Scorpius even tighter when he landed, opening his eyes to see he was lying on an old hardwood floor, staring at a brightly coloured wall. Malfoy fell to his knees before Harry and wrenched his arms open, taking Scorpius from Harry and tucking him in against his chest. Scorpius was clinging to Draco’s shirt so hard Harry could see his tiny knuckles poking out. Malfoy was stroking his hair and pressing kisses to his face, whispering reassurances to him the whole time.
“Mon chou, it's okay, it's okay, Daddy’s here, my darling, my baby, I’m here, you’re safe now, I’m here.” Abruptly, Malfoy stood and walked out a doorway, and Harry used the time to look at his surroundings. He was in an open-plan sitting room, with two great bay windows. One looked out onto a calm, suburban-looking street, and the other looked out onto a very well-kept garden.
There were sofas, and a television, and a piano in one corner, and all over the walls were prints and drawings, some clearly done by a young child, as well as photos of Scorpius at every stage in his life. Harry wandered around the room, feeling something in his chest he couldn’t name. The walls were pale blue and the sofas were purple and stained and it was so obvious to Harry that this was a home. Draco Malfoy had made a real home for him and his son, with his son’s artwork on the walls, and all his school photos framed and put up with pride of place.
“I need you to check him.” Harry jumped guiltily at being caught in his snooping, and turned around to see Malfoy holding a sleeping Scorpius against his chest. “I need you to check him over, make sure she’s not cast anything on him. I’ve knocked him out, so he won’t wake up but I need you- I need you to make sure he’s okay.” Malfoy implored, and Harry’s heart couldn’t take the look on his face.
“Lie him down on the sofa.” Harry instructed, and Malfoy did so, hovering over him as Harry cast over the boy’s sleeping body.
“He’s fine. There's no magical interference that I can see. He’s upset, and exhausted, but he’s fine.” Harry felt Malfoy’s sigh of relief as the man swooped in again and picked up his son.
Harry trailed them up some stairs. The walls were lined with photos of Scorpius, Scorpius and Malfoy together in restaurants, at parks, Scorpius at school, Scorpius at school. Harry could feel the love in the house hanging in the air. For a split second, he mourned the fact that this was the house he might’ve grown up in, but the thought was gone as soon as it came as they reached a landing and Malfoy opened a door with stickers all over it.
Scorpius’ bedroom was painted bright blue, with a bed shaped like a little house, with a thin wooden ‘roof’ that was hung with yellow bunting. The floor was tidy, with boxes of toys lining the walls and a large wooden chest of drawers and wardrobe stood next to a large bay window, that was dotted with butterfly stickers. Harry lingered just outside on the landing, watching as Malfoy undressed Scorpius with unbearable tenderness, and re-dressed him in clean pyjamas taken from one of the drawers.
“You’ll have to apparate from the living room. I can’t have you knowing my door number or my street name. Only two wizards know my address, and they are Scorpius and myself.” Malfoy said, kneeling at the edge of Scorpius’s bed, watching his son. Harry watched as Malfoy ran a finger across the bruises on Scorpius’ arm, and a fresh wave of guilt so intense Harry felt physically ill washed over him. His fault- this had all been his fault. He had stopped being vigilant. He had let himself relax. Mad Eye would be so disappointed in him. Not more than Harry was disappointed in himself, though. He nodded, and turned to go back down the stairs so he could apparate. He turned back once to say something- anything- an apology, or something, to see Malfoy enlarging the bed and shucking off his shirt. His back was to the doorway, and Harry gaped as he saw that Malfoy had all the constellations of the milky way tattoo’d across his back. Two were done with thicker dots and lines, and Harry assumed they were the Scorpius and Draconis ones. Harry fled down the stairs before he could cry at the sight, and found himself sat on Malfoy’s sofa trying to calm himself down so he didn’t accidentally splinch himself.
As he did so, he heard Malfoy’s voice, deep and true, singing softly.
“Close your eyes, have no fear.
The monster’s gone,
He’s on the run, and your daddy’s here.
Beautiful, beautiful beautiful,
Beautiful boy.”
Harry apparated before he started crying.