Work Text:
Somehow, Draco had managed to avoid it for years — returning to Hogwarts, that is — so with Scorpius in his sixth year and Lyra in her fourth, it was about time that his luck ran out.
He sat beside a very angry Hermione in the Headmaster’s office, still trying to accept that it was fucking Longbottom at the desk across from him.
“I’m so sorry, Nev.” Hermione groaned, her feet bouncing against the floor. “It’s just — this is so unlike him, you know? To punch someone…”
“Six people.” Draco interjected, earning a sharp glare and a whack against his arm.
She returned to the monologue he’d heard no less than a hundred times since they received the owl from Professor Longbottom , calling them for a disciplinary meeting about their son’s recent change in behavior.
“And over just a few weeks… He isn’t a violent kid, that’s all, so I don’t understand where this is all coming from.”
Draco had to bite his tongue to stop himself from mentioning that she hadn’t been a particularly violent kid either, until she knocked his front tooth loose in third year.
Longbottom looked freakishly comfortable listening to her ramble on for another five minutes, happy even, and Draco wondered how many times he’d heard her go on like this before.
“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hermione.” He assured her once she finally finished all she had to say, stepping around the large oak desk to squeeze her hand.
“Scorpius is a good kid. Top of his class. I just wanted to make sure the two of you knew that it was being handled well. He’s got detention this evening in the kitchens… think that ought to do the trick.”
“Thanks, Nev. You know I trust you, whatever you think is best.” She stood up to hug him, kissing his cheek.
And Draco mumbled something along the same lines, shaking Longbottom’s hand and following his wife into the corridor just outside the headmaster’s office.
Against the wall, Scorpius stood with a sorry sort of look on his face. Convincing , Draco thought, watching him rub at the broken skin of his knuckles.
He heard his son mumble, “I’m sorry I disappointed you, mum.”
“Well I trust you had a reason?” Hermione reached up to run a thumb over Scorpius’ cheek, standing only as tall as the knot of his tie.
“A good one. Promise.” Scorpius stared over her shoulder to meet his father’s eye, leaning down to let his mother kiss his cheek.
Hermione, placated for the time being, whipped her head around, shooting Draco a look that said deal with this before heading off down the spiral stairs.
And when he was certain she was gone, Scorpius finally spoke up. “I can’t keep beating around on fourth years forever, dad. You know this last one is actually an alright lad? He’s on the quidditch team and he––”
“Don’t worry about your mother, okay? I’ll take care of her.” Draco interrupted his son with a firm clap on the shoulder.
“You’ll do no such thing!” Scorpius bit back a laugh at the sound of his mother’s indignance, echoing up through the otherwise empty stairwell.
His father lowered his voice all at once, passing him a folded piece of parchment from his coat pocket. “Keep up the good work, yeah?”
Scorpius accepted it reluctantly. Another letter addressed to Lyra, no doubt, the name of some sorry teenage boy scribbled across the top corner.
A binding handshake. “I’ve got it dad.”
A proud smile. “See you again next week, Scorp.”