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Seeing Scorpius off at Platform 9¾ was an experience, Draco fondly remembered his own parents during his sendoff all those years ago. Unfortunately, the elder Malfoys were needed in France so they couldn’t be there on the Platform that morning but they did throw a wonderful going away celebration that was Malfoys-only, which by extension included Andromeda and the Lupins. Scorpius kept asking Teddy about the castle and the Great Hall and the Quidditch pitch. Draco was particularly proud of the Quidditch pitch which he had renovated—per his position as a Hogwarts governor—into a professional quality pitch worthy of any team in the British and Irish Quidditch League. He sat back and grinned.
He looked at his watch which Hermione had given him for their 10th anniversary which included the location hands of all his family. Lucius and Narcissa were in France, according to the watch; Scorpius was on the Hogwarts Express apparently just passing Newcastle; Hermione was back at Folkestone Castle, probably getting ready to floo to her office at Hogwarts; and the twins were safely being looked after by Richard and Jean in Hampstead. All was well.
A knock on his office door tore him out of his brief reverie, “Come in.”
“Sorry to disturb you Lord Black, but the Minister would like a few minutes,” answered his secretary, “And Mr Potter is waiting for you in the atrium.”
“That’s all right, Hestia. Send the Minister in and tell Mr Potter I maybe a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” And Hestia stepped out, seconds later Kingsley Shacklebolt entered.
“Did Scorpius get off okay,” the Minister for Magic asked in greeting.
“He did, although the twins and Hermione were a bit weepy about him leaving,” Draco gestured for Kingsley to sit.
“It’s understandable,” Kingsley replied as he sat.
“What can I do for you, Minister?”
“Harry was reporting that Ron’s son, Wendell, has been asking his father how he could be a wizard, since his father isn’t and the muggle woman who gave birth to him isn’t. Harry is concerned that there could be issues if someone talked or if Ron rediscovers his actual memories.”
“Is that all? By Merlin Minister, you had me worried for a moment,” Draco smirked. “As far as MACUSA are concerned, Voldemort and the events of the Second Wizarding War are a non-issue. Their history books show no significant mention of Voldemort other than he and I quote, ‘Was a brilliant half-blood wizard, who came from humble roots. And who after a brief psychotic episode in his late 60s, died of cardiac arrest at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ There isn’t even any mention of Potter or of me or Hermione in their annals, much less of Weasley.”
“So you think there’s nothing to worry about?”
“Not unless you think Weasley is somehow powerful enough to reverse a Ministry-sanctioned Obliviate, which considering his lack of a strong magical core when we Obliviated him, I believe we are safe from anything Ronald Weasley might do or say to pique his son’s curiosity. But if it will give you peace of mind, Minister, I will talk to MACUSA’s Director of Magical Security to ensure Ron Weasley isn’t a threat.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Draco smiled, “All in a day’s work. Is that all?”
“Yes. Well, I should get going, I have a Wizengamot hearing to attend, thank you for looking into it.”
“My pleasure, Minister.”
After Kingsley left, Draco called in his secretary.
“Hestia, could you floo ahead and notify MACUSA’s Director of Magical Security that I’m on my way and arrange an international portkey for me after I speak to Mr Potter?”
“Yes, sir, what should I state as the purpose of your visit?”
“Inter Ministry relations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Hestia, that is all. I’ll be back shortly,” Draco got up and left his office for the atrium.
“What did you need, Potter?”
“Did Kingsley talk to you about my concerns about Ron?”
“Yes, and I think he’s harmless but to calm the Minister I’ve arranged a meeting with MACUSA’s DMS after our meeting. Is there anything else?”
“There is one other thing, the underage magical trace picked up a fairly large use of magical energy aboard the Hogwarts Express.”
Draco scoffed, “First years showing off for their friends. My wife did when she met you.”
“That’s what I thought, until I read the trace report, it was only one wand.”
“Okay, now you’re starting to sound ominous, just tell me whose?”
“Scorpius.”
“Scorpius? My Scorpius? Surely not.”
“Do you know any other Scorpius?” Harry asked pointedly.
“Fuck…” Draco drew out and wiped his face with his hand.
“You sound guilty, care to share?”
“Before he boarded the train I told him to protect his mother at all costs except Hermione, minutes later made him promise not to use his wand until he made it to Scotland which he did. Scorpius is a good boy—a mama’s boy—“
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” Harry interrupted with a grin.
Draco glared at the other wizard, “Shut up, Potter. As I was saying, he’d never break a promise to his mother unless…” It dawned on Draco who would cause his son to act out, “…oh shite, Goyle. Let me and Hermione handle this Potter, there’s no need for Scorp to experience what you did during Fourth Year. I have to go.” He left the Boy-Who-Lived standing gobsmacked in the atrium.
Draco ran back to his office, “Hestia, reschedule my meeting and cancel my portkey, something more important than Ronald Weasley came up.”
“Yes sir,” Hestia had never seen the normally composed Lord Black look so out of sorts.
Draco ran back into his office, locked and silenced the door and headed for the floo.
“Gregory Goyle!” He shouted and tossed in the powder and stuck his head into the fire.
“Ah, Draco to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” Gregory asked nonchalantly.
“Can it, Goyle! Your son provoked mine and there was a magical fight aboard the Hogwarts Express. I’m warning you, Goyle, if your son said anything to provoke mine into using his magic improperly I will see to it that you are thrown into Azkaban. Do you have anything to say now, you fucking boil?”
“Temper, temper. It’s a wonder how that mudblood puts up with you.” Goyle smirked.
“You think I’m joking? Thirteen years ago, I had Ron Weasley unanimously repatriated without his memories of being a wizard after only 10 minutes of questioning, you think I can’t get you thrown in Azkaban for defaming my wife or worse, inciting my son?!”
Goyle blanched. Draco he could take on but Lord Black was a different story. “All right, I’m sorry. I will ask Brutus after the Sorting, and whatever he did I’m sure he deserved it. I’m still not over Vincent’s death, as you know. And I don’t think…” he trailed off.
“Whatever your reasons, you of all people should know the War changes people, Crabbe changed for the worst. It was his own fault he cast the Fiendfyre and it was his own fault he couldn’t control it. You need to move on, you lived. The good lived and the good that needed to die, died. It’s been over a decade, we cannot continue to be this divisive or else it will lead to the rise of a new Dark Lord.”
Goyle sighed, Malfoy had been telling him that much for the last few years and he wouldn’t listen. “You’re right, I apologise. And I’ll talk to Brutus.”
Draco calmed down, “All right if you’re in need of a good mind healer, you should see Astoria.”
“Astoria? Astoria Greengrass?”
“The one and only.”
Goyle had a huge crush on Daphne’s younger sister back in school but she was always trying to get Draco’s attention even after he and the Gryffindor muggle-born got together.
“I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”
“Well get some, and go see Pansy she misses you,” he disconnected the floo.
Draco sighed, and looked at his watch, Hermione was at Hogwarts and the train would be arriving in a couple of hours. Great, he had two hours to save his son from his wife’s wrath. But he had no particular plan. He took another breath and picked up some floo powder.
“Headmistress’ Office, Hogwarts.”
He stuck his head in.
“Draco, what can I do for you, my incredibly handsome husband?” Hermione greeted Draco’s face in the floo with a smile.
“Can you let me through it is best to explain in person.”
“Of course, come on through.”
Seconds later, Draco stepped into the Headmistress’ office. When he saw his wife he immediately went in for a kiss. They lost themselves in each other and only broke apart after Severus Snape’s portrait cleared his throat. The two jumped apart like it was Fifth Year again.
As Hermione blushed and straightened her robes, Draco looked at his godfather’s portrait annoyed, “Honestly, Severus, neither I nor Hermione are Fifth Years anymore.”
“You may be married Draco, but try to control your sexual urges. This is a place of learning not… hanky-panky.”
“Hanky-panky? Severus, slang coming from you is beyond disturbing.”
“Be that as it may.”
Draco rolled his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was arguing with a portrait and losing. “Very well.”
“That was quite a greeting, what did I do to deserve it?” Hermione interrupted, now more composed.
“I was hoping to seduce you enough so that you wouldn’t freak when I break the news,” Draco admitted.
Hermione pursed her lips. “What happened, Draco?”
“Potter informed me of an underage magic trace, and he said that the wand in question was Scorpius’.”
Hermione fumed, “That little… he’s all polite and innocent to my face and then when he’s alone he pulls this stunt! I’m gonna give him two months detention cleaning the Great Hall with a toothbrush for this!”
“Hermione…” Draco tried placating his wife, “I don’t know the whole story but it appears he was provoked.”
“You’re just defending him because he’s your heir,” Hermione hissed.
Draco couldn’t deny that he’d do anything for his children. “Come now Hermione, think logically, Scorpius never lies and he wouldn’t risk the Headmistress’ wrath unnecessarily. Maybe to sneak a girl back to his quarters but on his first day at Hogwarts? Unlikely.” Draco smirked as he took Hermione into his arms.
Hermione took a breath, breathing in Draco’s familiar scent, it was true, her son was ultimately a good boy. Narcissa said she credits Hermione for that because Draco was apparently a right terror. “You’re right, but I will still have to punish him. Any ideas?”
“Are you done being angry at my heir?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Not quite.”
“Do be reasonable, Hermione.”
“He could’ve been hurt Draco! He made me a promise and he broke it. Do you know how many times I’ve had to punish him for blatantly breaking the rules? Zero, zero, Draco! My baby is acting out and he’s only a First Year, I can’t even imagine what he’ll be like in the future. First, it’s broken promises, then skipping classes, then it’s underage drinking, then it’s becoming the next Dark Lord!”
Draco laughed, “Well that escalated quickly.”
“This isn’t funny, you prat. My son is now a lawbreaker, he’ll have to go in front of the Wizengamot, like Harry!”
“Whoa calm down there, my fiery lioness. None of that is going to happen, lest you forget, I am Lord Black and his grandfather is Lord Malfoy. He won’t see the interior of a Wizengamot chamber until he’s ready to take over for me. I won’t let that happen,” Hermione heard the sheer conviction in her husband’s voice with the last statement, she believed him. “If it makes you feel better, I have it on good authority that it was Goyle’s son who provoked him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because before I came here I laid into Goyle by floo. And if I know Scorp, he’ll show up at school unharmed, I can’t say the same about the Goyle boy, however. Scorpius is too clever—too like his mother—to plan out an attack where he’s hurt.”
Hermione smiled. It’s true, Scorpius may look like Draco but he is her son. “Flatterer.”
“So are you done with plotting archaic punishments on my heir and the future Lord Black?" He smirked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, her husband could be overly devious and charming at the same time. “Yes, fine I’m done plotting harm to our son.” And then she punched him in the shoulder.
“Merlin, woman! What was that for?” As he massaged his shoulder, he never forgot Hermione had a pretty nice right hook.
“For making me worry about Scorpius sneaking girls into his bedroom! He’s my baby!”
Draco smirked. “So what punishment are you going to levy? But do be reasonable.”
Hermione smirked herself, “Well, the elves are making custard pie for the feast, I think I’ll punish him by limiting him to only one serving.”
“Devious.” Draco knew how much his son loved custard pie, so one serving would be punishment enough since at home he would have three or four servings. Plus, he will be under Hermione’s watchful eye so he wouldn’t dare sneak.
“What about the Goyle boy?”
“If he had a run-in with Scorp, I’m sure he’s had his punishment.”
Draco chuckled, “You’re oddly proud of him for breaking the rules, aren’t you?”
“Of course darling, I wasn’t always the apple polisher you thought I was and he is my son.” Hermione grinned.
“Well now that that’s settled, what say you and I rekindle our Hogwarts years, eh? The train won’t be here for at least another hour. And as Headmistress you do have access to all the common rooms,” Draco said cooly running a finger up and down her arm.
“Draco! That’s highly inappropriate.” But she was losing her willpower especially when he touched her spot behind her elbow.
“Come on Headmistress, you can give me detention.” He flashed her a devastating grin.
Hermione took a deep breath, “I expect you in the library in five minutes, Mr Malfoy, do not be late,” as she transfigured his Ministry robes into a Hogwarts uniform with a Slytherin tie.
“Of course, Headmistress,” Draco grinned as he and Hermione ran to the library.
“Bloody hormones, I’m glad I’m dead.” Severus’ portrait scoffed, as he left to have tea with the Bloody Baron.