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“She’s pregnant?” Lucius snapped.
“She is also sat right here,” Astoria said.
Lucius completely ignored her and turned to Draco, who had known that telling his parents they were pregnant would go terribly. Still, it was much better than when they had excitedly announced that they were engaged. Draco still had nightmares about the disaster that had been their wedding.
“It’ll be a blood traitor before it can speak!” Lucius exclaimed.
“Are we still using that term?” Astoria said loudly, “it’s a bit outdated, don’t you think? I much prefer the term, ‘decent human being,’”
Narcissa shuffled awkwardly in her seat.
“I, for one, am happy for you both,”
“Thank-you, mother,”
“I dislike the direction in which our family is heading,” Lucius said.
“I dislike the way it has been for the last few decades,” Astoria replied.
“I think it’s time to go!” Draco said, jumping up, “Lovely to see you, mother, father,”
—
Draco Malfoy had never believed in love. Not for himself, anyway. Once the Dark Mark had tarnished his skin and he had found himself on the wrong side of history, he had been quite sure that love was not on the cards for him. He hadn’t been entirely sure that there was anything but a cell on in Azkaban with his name on it in his future.
And then he met Astoria and everything changed.
Suddenly, he had found someone who did not care if he was a Malfoy or not. She did not care what he had done in the past because she was too busy focusing on a brighter future. She challenged the status quo that he had so rigidly stuck to and everything that he had ever believed in.
Life had never been better.
As much as he took responsibility for everything that he had done in the war, Astoria had helped him to move on from it. She had reminded him that he was more than the Dark Mark, more than his last name and more than what the Daily Prophet wrote about him. He was good at his job, a loving husband and a terrific father.
Draco had never thought that he would have children, partly because he was terrified that they would grow up to make the same mistakes that he did. But as he watched Scorpius grow, he realised that he had nothing to worry about. Scorpius was kind, empathetic, intelligent and worth one million of him. Astoria liked to say that Scorpius was like him, but he knew that she was only saying that to be kind. Scorpius was everything that Astoria was, and Draco could never be.
And then their luck had run out.
Astoria had always been ill and occasionally frail, but she had never let that stop her. She had never let that stop her from being the incredible woman that she was, but it soon got a hold of her and even she couldn’t fight her way out of it’s grip.
Draco spent most of his days with her. He sat next to her in bed and held her hand as she looked up at him through half closed eyes. He told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. She would scoff and laugh at him for being soft, but the tears still rolled down her face as she inched ever closer to her death.
Daphne had been amazing, even when she had watch her younger sister die. She took Scorpius to her house to see his cousins, to the Potter’s to see Albus and to Diagon Alley, just to get out of the house. And he always came back with a smile on his face and a story about a new drink he had had at the Leaky Cauldron or a funny thing that Albus Potter had said to him. And Astoria always managed to listen to everything that he had to say. Despite how weak she was, she still managed to have a coherent conversation with him and Draco had never seen strength like it.
Scorpius was by her side the day she died, sat cross legged on the bed next to her with tears streaming down his face. Draco knelt neck to her and held her hand, all whilst wishing that they could switch places. He would do anything if it meant that she could live. He would give up everything he owned, if he had to.
It was peaceful, at least. Too weak to say anything, she simply smiled at Scorpius and let her hand go limp.
Draco had never known pain like it.
He had never known pain like the sound of his thirteen year old son dissolving into wailing sobs. He had never known pain like having to wrap his arms around Scorpius knowing that nothing he could ever say or do would change what had happened. He had never known pain like the sudden realisation that the one person in the world who had loved him because of who he was and not because of the wealth he had had left him behind. People he loved always seemed to leave him behind: Goyle, Pansy, Blaise...all gone after the Malfoy’s fall from grace, and now Astoria had left him, too.
But this might have been his worst fall from grace yet; even worse than the first few months after the war.
—
Scorpius sniffed as Draco slowly walked around his bedroom, packing his trunk for him.
“I miss mum,”
Draco carefully placed two pairs of socks in the trunk and turned to face his son. The summer had not been kind to him; his hair was in desperate need of a cut and there were deep bags under his eyes. He looked too old for a thirteen year old.
“I know. I do too,”
Draco knew that this would not make Scorpius any better, but he didn’t know what else he could say.
“You don’t have to go back to school straight away,” Draco said, “Professor McGonagall said you can take as much time as you need off,”
Scorpius shook his head.
“I want to go,” he said, “I don’t want to fall behind,”
“It’s only your third year, Scorpius. I think you could miss the first couple of weeks,”
“I don’t want to miss anything important! I’m starting new subjects,”
Draco smiled at his son and nodded his head, thinking about how he purposely went out of his way to get time off school in his third year after he had been attacked by that Hippogriff.
"You're a better student than I was,"
“And I think - I think it’s what mum would have wanted,”
When Draco dropped Scorpius off at the train station, he very quickly found Albus Potter. Scorpius had barely uttered five words Albus before he enveloped him in a hug, and Draco felt himself begin to relax. Scorpius had someone who would look out for him, not matter what. Which was a lot more than Draco had in all his years at Hogwarts.
“He’s going to be alright,” Draco whispered to the sky, hoping that somehow, Astoria could hear him.
He suddenly got a whiff of the lavender perfume that she wore every day, and knew that she hadn’t gone too far.