Chapter Text
Scorpius Malfoy remained silent. For anyone familiar with this particular son of the Malfoy household, such stillness might signal an alarm, yet in this particular moment, there was genuinely nothing to be alarmed about. Nonetheless, it wasn't as if Scorpius was entirely still. His fingers interlocked and twisted, and he bounced on the balls of his feet in a dance of pure nervous energy. Still, he was quite composed by the boy's standards.
Compelled by his own will to remain silent, the young Slytherin's grey eyes followed the graceful movements of his father, who was in his potion workshop working on a complex project that had kept him engaged for weeks. Despite the threat of stains, Draco worked on two of the three pieces of one of his beautiful suits made of hand-spun Chinese silk. The jacket rested on the back of the chair in the corner of the room. The exquisite sleeves of his Egyptian cotton shirt were carefully folded to reveal his arms up to the elbow, and atop the pristine Italian cravat that adorned his neck lay one of the most beautiful jewels in the Malfoy collection: a radiant-cut diamond that sparkled with every movement of the skilled potion master.
Despite the majesty of the scene, there was a small, inconspicuous detail that marred the virtue of the tableau. The unsightly scars on the left forearm lay upon a still recognizable Dark Mark. Scorpius knew his father had tried various magical means to rid himself of the mark; however, the skull, the snake, and the dreadful memories of his past clung stubbornly to his father's skin. In his youth, during the lowest point of his desperation, Draco had resorted to slashing cuts into his own skin to rid himself of the mark, with only moderate success. Scorpius's attention was mostly held captive by the exquisite art unfolding before him, but every now and then, his gaze would shift to his father's forearm. After all, it was quite rare for Draco to allow it to be seen.
The wizard made his best effort to stay focused during a delicate moment of his operation, despite his son's scrutiny. After a few minutes, as the risk of explosion diminished, Draco began to speak.
"During my youthful years, I made a long list of questionable decisions..."
Scorpius startled at the sound of his father's voice, his large grey eyes focusing entirely on Draco. Draco spoke without making eye contact with his son; his hands were still busy turning knobs and adjusting flasks in the intricate system of glassware and burners before him.
"I held certain attitudes towards people and life in general that I am not proud of at all..."
The soft bubbling sound of a slowly boiling liquid began to fill the room.
"My life took certain turns that could have led me to less than ideal situations. I reached a very dark point in my life from which I thought I could never emerge..."
Draco unrolled the sleeves of his fine shirt and began rebuttoning the cuffs.
"I wish I could put this in less ridiculous words, but every time I've tried, I found the task downright impossible. However, the reason I live and breathe freely at this moment is that I found something extremely valuable, extraordinarily superior to any hatred, guilt, or darkness—I found love..."
One of the mansion's house-elves, the old Drowzy, who assisted Draco in his projects, approached carrying a clean towel and an elegant porcelain plate with crystal-clear water in which his master rinsed his hands without interrupting his speech.
"...A kind of love so absolute and pure that it can silence any echo of my tumultuous youth and has become the guiding light that illuminates my life and will."
Scorpius smiled, touched by his father's words. Beautiful memories of his family danced in his mind before his mother passed away, and his eyes became glassy with restrained tears.
"My mother was truly an extraordinary woman..."
Draco dried his hands with the towel provided by Drowzy and, for the first time, turned his gaze toward his son. He blinked slowly, and when his eyes reopened, the cold grey that characterized them seemed to have warmed slightly.
"She was... But I was talking about you."
Scorpius's eyes widened, and all his nervous movements, even his own breath, came to a halt in that moment. His father's declaration had been so firm and certain that it struck him with a force that shook his entire body, and he couldn't maintain eye contact.
"I... I love you too, Father..."
Scorpius heard the sound of Draco's elegant Italian shoes approaching until he could see them stop in front of him. One of his father's long, slender fingers gently lifted his chin, guiding his face back up, where he met the serene countenance of the young patriarch of the mansion. Draco reached for the diamond decorating his chest, and with patience, began to remove it.
"Seeing you achieve your goals and find happiness is the reason for my existence and my greatest ambition, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy..."
Once the diamond detached from his cravat, Draco affixed it to his son's bowtie, taking his time to align it perfectly.
"...And I would give my life without hesitation for it."
The blur in Scorpius's gaze reminded him that he needed to breathe.
At that moment, the sudden burst of someone arriving through the fireplace startled the younger Malfoy, while the elder remained unperturbed.
"Welcome, Albus."
Draco turned and returned to his workstation, where a satin green and silver scarf identical to the one adorning his son's shoulders lay.
"Good day, Mr. Malfoy, hello, Drowzy..." Albus Potter appeared in the room surrounded by thick green smoke. "...Sorry, I think I may have overdone it with the Floo powder." The young man shook off his clothes and strode in long steps toward his best friend, greeting him with a fist bump.
"Who would have thought Drowzy would live to see a Malfoy welcoming a Potter into their home?" The old house-elf disapproved as he looked at Albus.
"Give me some credit, Drowzy..." Draco took the scarf and walked back toward Albus and Scorpius. With elegance, he draped the scarf around the newcomer's neck, smoothing the fabric with his hands over the boy's shoulders. "This Potter proudly wears the colours of Salazar Slytherin's house."
Albus looked enthusiastically at how he now matched his best friend. "My brother James says I make the Gryffindors in the family tomb twist in their graves; I take that as a personal victory."
Draco barely smiled, containing a laugh, but Drowzy was less discreet.
"Aaah, Drowzy sees potential in the Potter child."
"Enough of the chatter," declared Draco. "I want to get to the Quidditch stadium early, or we'll have to navigate our way to our seats through a horde of disgusting fans reeking of beer and sweat."