Chapter 12
Harry fucking Potter was stood in the middle of his living room, blocking their view to the telly, and Scorpius was howling. His face was turning purple, and he was thrashing and crying louder than Draco had ever heard him, even when he was a baby. He had never seen his son this distressed and clearly the damage wrought by his mother had gone much deeper than anticipated if this was Scorpius’ reaction to a surprise visitor. Draco hauled him up and into his arms from the sofa, and Scorpius fought a bit more before going completely boneless in Draco’s arms, and Draco practically galloped up the stairs to get him to his bedroom. He didn’t even have time to say anything to Potter, which was likely best because at that moment all Draco felt towards the man was pure rage. How dare he just show up like that unannounced? The fool had never learnt to think this through.
“Scorpius, shh, it's okay, daddy’s here, it was just healer Potter, I’m sorry, he’s safe, you know him, it's okay.” Draco was frantically trying to calm Scorpius, who was refusing to leave Draco’s arms, gripping his pyjama top so hard Draco thought it might rip, still hyperventilating. Draco cursed under his breath and climbed awkwardly into bed with Scorpius still clinging to him, lying on his back and settling Scorpius on his chest. Scorpius fell into a deep sleep quickly, having thoroughly exhausted himself in his panic. Draco desperately hoped Potter was still downstairs because they clearly had things to discuss.
When Scorpius’ grip loosened and his breaths evened out, Draco awkwardly wriggled out from under him, tucking him in and casting an alarm spell that would make his wand buzz if Scorpius woke up, and then he went downstairs.
From halfway down the flight of stairs, he could see through the living room doorway that Potter was still there, sitting on the sofa hunched over with his head in his hands. It was such a pitiful sight that Draco’s anger dissipated, and he sympathised for Potter’s position.
“Cup of tea?” Draco asked when he was right behind Potter, taking only a little bit of joy in the way the other man jumped.
“If you could. I am- so- sorry for bursting in like that, I don’t know what I was thinking I just-”
“Save it.” Draco interrupted Potter’s rambled apology. “It's fine, let's go into the kitchen and talk. Scorpius is not… coping very well. I apologise for the severity of his reaction.”
Potter just nodded and followed Draco into the kitchen. It was his favourite room in the whole house. Decorated in navy and orange with a cream aga and large french doors that led out into the garden, it was where Draco came for peace and solace.
“Sit.” Draco commanded, realising that he was still a little bit angry with Potter, and allowing himself some curtness. “Milk? Sugar?” he asked, not turning around because he knew the look on Potter’s face would make him crumble and forgive, and he wasn’t ready to yet.
“Milk, two sugars, please.” Potter’s voice came from behind and Draco nodded. When he was done, he turned and placed two steaming mugs on the table and sat opposite Potter.
“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit then?” he asked, taking a sip.
****
“I sent owls!” Harry started with, desperate to defend his position. “Four of them, and they all returned unopened, and I just thought- if you’re ignoring me, fair enough but it didn’t feel like something you’d do? Maybe I’m just stupid but-”
Malfoy’s brow furrowed. “You’re not stupid, Potter. I have this house heavily warded. The owls were unable to find it and returned. I believe I also owe you an apology- I appreciate I am nearly impossible to contact, and I should have anticipated that you would wish to, and that you would expect our presence at the appointments, but Scorpius, well.” Malfoy drank deeply from his mug and stared out of the glass french doors that led to the garden. Harry used the silence to study him.
Malfoy’s jawline was sharp, his cheekbones well defined. His eyelashes and eyebrows were darker than his hair, and they framed his eyes perfectly. His lips were perfect pink, flushed from the heat of the tea and Harry was bewitched. His fingers itched to reach out and tuck Malfoy’s hair behind his ear, to tell him it was all going to be okay. Malfoy looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Scorpius isn’t coping very well. You saw what he was like earlier, kicking and screaming. He won’t leave my side. I’ve pulled him out of school for the time being, and I’ve taken time off work. He can’t go outside. I’m at my wits end. I can’t even bathe in peace, he climbs into the tub with me.”
Malfoy’s voice caught and Harry saw his lower lip tremble, and the tell-tale silver of tears gathering on his lower lash line. Without even thinking about it he was out of his seat and behind Malfoy’s, resting a hand on Malfoy’s warm shoulder. Malfoy shuddered but didn’t throw Harry off, instead taking several deep breaths, before ever-so-slowly tilting so his head was resting against Harry’s abdomen.
Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. Malfoy’s comforting, rich scent was so much stronger now, and Harry gave into the urge to gently run his fingers through Malfoy’s hair, teasing out the tangles.
“He needs a mind healer, but there’s no way he’d step foot in mungos for me to organise it.” Malfoy whispered, still staring determinedly out into the garden.
“I’ll fix it. I can organise a mind healer for him- for both of you, if you want. You need to look after yourself too, Malfoy.” Harry said, loath to use Malfoy’s last name in such an intimate setting, but too scared that saying his first name would cross yet another line, one that seemed much more defined than turning up unannounced in someone's home.
“I can’t- Scorpius just takes up all my energy.” Malfoy whispered again, his voice full of despair.
“I’ll help. Let me help.” Harry could hear the tone of desperation in his voice, but could do nothing to hide it. The kitchen was dark, lit only by a lamp emitting a warm orange light on the sideboard, and it felt a bit like they’d entered an alternate reality, and in this new reality, where Harry could touch Malfoy- could comfort him, he could beg, too.
“I don’t-”
“Draco. Please, let me help.” Harry took a step over the line, and felt and heard Malfoy- Draco- inhale sharply.
“Harry.” Draco murmured, and Harry shivered at the sound of his name in Draco’s deep voice.
“I’ll organise a mind healer. Can I come back? Here? Tomorrow? If I can’t write then I can’t tell you the details, and, well, I’d like to see you again. To make sure you’re okay. To make it up to Scorpius.” Harry thought back to Scorpius’ screaming face and grimaced.
“I never meant to scare him like that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. It’s my fault. I should have listened more- it was never about trusting you, I just put blind faith into wizarding institutions even though it is proven to me over and over again that they’re not safe. I’m so, so sorry, Draco.” Harry ploughed ahead when Draco remained silent. He had been brave, asking to come back, and a cold feeling grew in his stomach as it dawned on him that Draco may very well say no.
“I’m cooking dinner for a family friend and her daughter tomorrow. You can join us. You can’t come later than six, because they cannot see you apparate.” Draco said, slowly pulling away from Harry’s body. It took a lot of effort for Harry to keep from pulling him back into his arms. He couldn’t suppress his smile at being invited to dinner, and a family dinner at that. Surely Draco wouldn’t let Harry come if he hated him, if he was still angry.
“Six tomorrow. I won’t be late. I’ll bring the mind healer details too. I won’t let you down.” Harry promised, feeling joy bubble up in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Draco the next day.
****
Draco watched Harry disappear from his living room carpet, and wandered to bed in a daze, thinking about what he had just done. Maryam would have a field day at the prospect of someone from Draco’s past being invited into his new life, and she was sure to pick up on the… tension between the two of them. Draco groaned and sat on the bottom stair, his head buried in his hands. He desperately needed a break. He needed a night alone in his bed like he was used to, and as much as he loved his son the idea of having to crawl into bed next to Scorpius, to be inevitably woken up at six in the morning by a demand for breakfast held no appeal.
Sighing, Draco got up again and climbed the stairs. He tried and failed to not feel stupidly excited at the prospect of seeing Harry again the next day. As he lay in bed, listening to the snuffling sounds of Scorpius sleeping, he thought about how Potter was Harry now, and what Harry’s hands had felt like resting on his shoulder, combing through his hair.
Draco had never been touched like that. He had slept with three people in his lifetime, and not one of them had been a romantic partner, someone who had offered gentle touches and sweet assurances. Now Draco had had the tiniest taste, he ached for it. He yearned to feel Harry’s warmth around him, holding him steady as he pulled himself back together. Draco had felt embarrassed for nearly crying earlier until Harry had come over to him and touched him softly, and then all Draco had wanted to do was break. He felt like a poorly built dam, like the cracks in his concrete were growing, and soon they wouldn’t be able to hold back the tidal wave of emotion. He only hoped Harry would be holding onto him when it happened.
Draco sighed, and fell asleep with a smile on his face and memories of Harry’s hands and eyes playing through his mind.