Healing
Draco sighed, leaning his head back on the edge of the enamel bathtub as Scorpius shimmied out of his pyjamas and climbed in. It had been two weeks since the horrific debacle with his mother, and in that time Scorpius had refused to be away from Draco for more than five minutes. He’d follow Draco into the bathroom- would climb into the bath with him every evening, like he was doing now- he wouldn’t fall asleep without Draco. In fact, Draco had started just putting Scorpius to sleep in his own bedroom. He had moved the desk from his office into his bedroom, and would sit at his desk, reading his casefiles in low lamplight where Scorpius could see him.
Draco had had to tell Scorpius’ school that there had been a family emergency and pull him out for the foreseeable future, and he’d had to take a sort of semi-sabbatical from work, driving in on a monday morning with Scorpius in tow, collecting his files for the week, taking them home, reading them, writing all his notes for the barrister, and then taking them back in on a wednesday and friday afternoon. He was bored out of his skull, spending his time either on his sofa re-watching Scorpius’ favourite films to give him a sense of comfort, or holed up at his desk in his bedroom, feeling the stare of his five year old like a brand.
Scorpius hated going outside- would burst into tears at the sight of random old women. Draco had had to get his weekly shop delivered now, which was more expensive and an annoying change to his routine.
It had also been two weeks since Draco had last heard from Harry. His clifton townhouse- his safe haven- had been warded against wizarding folk to the hight heavens, which included owls, so if Harry had attempted to write, Draco would never know.
Scorpius splashed about in the bath, sloshing water up over the sides and Draco bit his lip to keep from snapping at his son. Spending all his time with Scorpius was wearing his patience thin, but he could hardly blame the child, who was clearly just traumatised and seeking his father for comfort. Draco knew he had to organise getting a mind healer for Scorpius, but he knew doing so would involve facing Potter, and saint Mungo’s and the wider wizarding world again, and Draco could hardly stand the thought.
How naive he had been to believe he had escaped his family’s clutches so easily. He should have known that nothing would stop their dogged pursuit of Malfoy family glory, but he had gone Scorpius’ whole life without hearing a peep, and he had stupidly assumed he was safe. He likely wouldn’t be safe until they were both six feet under, as macabre a thought as it was.
“Okay, Daddy?” Scorpius voice came. He sounded timid and scared. Draco opened his eyes and stared at his son, sat between Draco’s pale knees.
“Daddy’s okay, Scorp, just tired. You get tired sometimes, yeah? And it makes you grumpy doesn’t it, well daddy gets grumpy too when he’s tired. Shall we watch a film and go to bed after this?” he said, forcing his voice to be light even though he felt anything but.
“Okay, daddy.” Scorpius nodded, reaching over for his rubber duck. Draco watched him as he felt his nerves fray. Tomorrow, he would take him back to organise a mind healer tomorrow.
***
Harry paced his living room, getting more agitated by the minute. The fourth owl he had sent to find and deliver a letter to Malfoy had returned with the letter unopened. It had been two weeks since the whole incident- Harry couldn’t call it a kidnapping or he’d feel so guilty he’d throw up. When Malfoy had missed the first saturday appointment afterwards, Harry had been worried but understood. That’s when he’d sent the second letter. He’d sent the third midweek, trying to convey his apologies, but once again his owl had returned with an unopened letter. Harry had told Hermione, who had told him to wait until the next scheduled appointment, and if Malfoy missed that Harry was allowed to panic.
Well, it should have been that afternoon, and low and behold Malfoy and Scorpius had not shown up. Harry had worried himself sick, sat in his office, and gone home early to write yet another letter and send it off, and it had just come back. The poor carpet in the living room of his tiny london flat would be threadbare by the time his lease ended with the way he took his stress out on it.
In the end, Harry decided there was nothing for it. He’d have to apparate back to Draco’s. He could visualise the inside of the living room well enough, and he could just double check they were all okay, and then pop back home again, his anxious nerves soothed. Not even bothering to change out of his scrubs, Harry closed his eyes and apparated.
He opened them to see the faces of Scorpius and Malfoy staring at him in horror, and it only just dawned on him that maybe apparating inside someone's home at eight pm on a saturday night with no warning was not the most polite thing to do.
Then Scorpius started to scream.