Chapter Text
Sitting in front of Headmistress McGonagall’s desk, Albus felt his back tense at the whoosh that announced an arrival through the fireplace.
“Minerva, what’s happened this time?” Harry Potter asked as he brushed soot from his shoulders and hair. His voice faltered slightly when he spotted his son sitting only a few feet away. Their eyes met for an instant, and Albus—pale, dirt-smudged, and visibly shaken—dropped his gaze back to the floor.
“There’s been an accident,” Minerva McGonagall was explaining as she moved to greet Harry. Her rigid posture and stern tone failed to conceal the note of concern beneath them.
Before she could say anything more, another burst from the fireplace announced a second arrival.
Draco Malfoy landed in the Headmistress’s office with a little more grace than Harry, though not without collecting his own share of soot. He ran a hand through his hair before freezing as he recognised Harry Potter.
The sight of his former schoolmate was hardly surprising. If Scorpius had done something reckless, Albus Potter was unlikely to have been far away.
No, what surprised him was that Harry had arrived before him.
“What have they done now?” he asked, offering only the briefest nod of greeting to the Headmistress.
He spotted Albus sitting in front of the large wooden desk, and his expression shifted from annoyance to unease the moment he realised Scorpius was nowhere to be seen.
McGonagall seemed to catch the change immediately.
“There’s been an accident,” she repeated, raising both hands in a calming gesture. “The boys are all right,” she added quickly.
Draco looked anything but reassured.
“Where’s Scorpius?”
“He’s in the hospital wing,” McGonagall replied.
She immediately reached out to stop him as he turned towards the door.
“Draco, Scorpius is fine. He’s not in danger. Madam Abbott is taking care of him. You’ll be able to see him in a moment.”
“What the hell happened?” Draco demanded, while Harry moved closer to his son.
Albus seemed incapable of lifting his eyes from the floor. A constant tremor ran through his body. Harry had not seen him this pale or shaken since the days of Delphi.
He noticed how filthy Albus’s clothes were, how tightly his fists were clenched against his stomach.
Only when McGonagall began explaining the evening’s events did Harry realise the stains covering his son’s fingers and robes were blood.
His eyes widened. He turned sharply towards the Headmistress, resting a hand on Albus’s shoulder.
Albus flinched but did not look up.
“Two days ago, a smuggled Heilong dragon was discovered not far from Hogwarts. Charlie Weasley and his dragonologists have been handling the situation, but the animal is injured and too weak to be transported.”
“Where are you going with this, Minerva?” Draco asked impatiently.
“The dragon is being kept temporarily in an enclosure at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The boys decided to go and see it.”
“What kind of dragon is it?” Harry asked.
“A rare Chinese species,” the Headmistress replied.
“One that breathes fire?”
“No. It’s more closely associated with water. Generally speaking, it doesn’t attack humans...” She paused. “But the boys entered the enclosure.”
Both men turned towards Albus in disbelief.
The boy seemed to shrink even further into himself.
“You went inside?”
“Scorpius too?”
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
“What happened?” Draco demanded.
Albus had no idea which of them to look at and remained frozen in his chair as McGonagall continued.
“Albus had the brilliant idea of collecting some of the dragon’s scales. He used your Invisibility Cloak, Harry, and entered the enclosure.”
“The cloak I gave to James? You still have it?”
“It’s not like he needs it,” Albus muttered quietly.
McGonagall handed Harry the cloak she had confiscated.
“But what on earth did you want dragon scales for?”
“Those are quite valuable,” Draco answered in the boy’s place. “Extremely durable, with a shifting ebony sheen. And Heilongs shed very few of them, so they’re rare.”
He noticed Harry looking at him curiously.
“My mother had a necklace made from scales like that,” he explained.
“And that is precisely why Albus tried to collect some,” McGonagall said. “Apparently, he was trying to impress a girl.”
The two men reacted very differently.
Harry let out a groan and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Draco, meanwhile, went completely still and stared at Albus in disbelief. “For a girl?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
“For Merlin’s sake, Albus!” Harry burst out, oblivious to Draco’s stunned gaze fixed on his son.
Albus, however, was painfully aware of it and lowered his head once more.
“You took a risk like that? What on earth were you thinking?”
“Did Scorpius know?” Draco asked slowly, as though he had barely heard Harry speak at all.
Albus gave a slight nod.
The man’s expression hardened.
“What happened to my son? Why is he in the hospital wing?” he demanded, turning back to Professor McGonagall.
McGonagall sighed, a mixture of pity and exasperation.
“He was hit by a spell.”
“Which one?” Draco pressed impatiently.
The Headmistress looked from Draco to Harry, knowing full well that what she was about to say would unleash absolute chaos.
“Sectumsempra,” she admitted at last.
A deathly silence followed.
Draco Malfoy actually stopped breathing. The colour drained from his face so completely that, for a moment, he looked as pale as he had during the years when Voldemort’s atrocities had unfolded around him.
Beside him, Harry went rigid as well. His eyes widened slightly as he turned towards his former schoolmate, his stomach twisting.
“Who...” Draco managed. “Who cast...?”
“Albus,” McGonagall replied, immediately trying to continue and explain the rest of the story.
Draco never gave her the chance. “Albus?!” he exploded, turning towards the younger Potter, his voice thick with both outrage and disbelief. “You cast a spell like that at my son?”
Drained of all colour, Albus jumped to his feet and shook his head emphatically.
Harry was staring at him with a mixture of confusion and hurt. “Albus,” he asked quietly, “what did you do?”
“No! Not at him!” Albus blurted out. “I’d never cast a spell like that at Scorpius! I cast it at the dragon! It was about to attack him and I was trying to protect him, but it blocked the spell with its wing and it ricocheted. I didn’t even know something like that was possible!”
“Draco...” Harry murmured, still struggling to process what had happened. “I’m sorry. Truly. I’ve never spoken to my children about a spell like that. I don’t understand...”
“I’m the one who told Scorpius about it,” Draco cut in sharply, his face still dark with anger.
He turned back to Albus.
“How could you drag him into something this absurd? Was what happened last year not enough? Convincing him to climb into a dragon enclosure?”
If possible, Albus grew even paler. “I... I never asked him to go inside,” he said. “He wasn’t supposed to. I only asked him to stay by the gate and open it so I could get in and out without letting the dragon escape.”
“Albus entered alone under the Invisibility Cloak,” Professor McGonagall explained. “The dragon must have sensed movement. A sweep of its tail sent him flying. He lost the cloak, and once he became visible, the animal attacked him.”
She fixed him with a sharp look. “That’s what happened, isn’t it, Potter?”
Albus nodded vigorously.
“Scorpius came in to protect me. He cast a Stunning Spell, but it didn’t do anything. The dragon turned on him. None of the spells we tried had any effect, and... and I didn’t know what else to do. It was almost on top of him by then. He was nearly at the gate...” Albus spoke quickly, his voice trembling but determined. He would not, under any circumstances, allow anyone to believe he had hurt his best friend on purpose.
“Scorpius told me about Sectumsempra once, and I just... I tried it. The spell hit the dragon’s wing, but it also ricocheted and struck Scorpius, throwing him out of the enclosure. I’d already put the cloak back on. I ran out and locked the gate. Scorpius was on the ground and...”
His eyes filled with tears. He lowered his gaze to his hands and clothes, still stained with blood.
Draco seemed to realise for the first time what was splattered across the boy’s robes.
His eyes widened. Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode towards the door.
Professor McGonagall immediately fell into step beside him. Harry and Albus followed a pace behind.
“Draco, I assure you, Scorpius is going to be fine,” Minerva repeated.
“I know what that spell does!” Draco snapped.
For a brief instant, his gaze flicked towards Harry Potter.
“Don’t tell me he’s fine. I remember perfectly well the pain. The blood loss. The shock.”
“The spell wasn’t particularly powerful,” McGonagall replied. “And it struck Scorpius with even less force after being deflected by the dragon. The wounds were shallow, and Albus quickly called for help. Scorpius received treatment almost immediately. There won’t be any lasting damage.”
Draco stopped so abruptly that the others nearly walked into him.
He turned back towards the Headmistress, towards Harry and Albus still following behind, and with a sharp movement unfastened the top button of his shirt, pulling the collar aside.
“I was treated immediately,” he shouted. “Snape reached me almost at once, and I still carry the scars!”
A jagged mark ran from the base of his neck down across his chest before disappearing beneath his shirt.
“And maybe Harry was already a far more powerful wizard than Albus is now, but that cursed spell hurts like hell. And it’s terrifying.”
“I—I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Albus stammered.
Hot tears were running freely down his face now, and his body would not stop shaking.
He was horrified by what had happened. By the fact that he had injured Scorpius so badly. By the image still burned into his mind: Scorpius lying on the ground, pale and suffering, his clothes soaked in blood.
“You didn’t mean to hurt him?” Draco repeated incredulously. “Convincing him to climb into a dragon enclosure wasn’t hurting him? Over a girl, of all things?”
His voice rose with every word, and he took a threatening step forward.
Albus recoiled instinctively until his back hit his father’s chest.
Behind him, Harry tightened both hands on his shoulders. “Draco,” he said quietly. His voice was low, but firm.
He was far from proud of what his son had done, but there was no chance he was going to stand by while Albus was threatened. The boy had made a serious mistake, and judging by the way he trembled beneath his hands, Harry was certain he understood that better than anyone.
“He never meant to hurt Scorpius.”
“He never means to!” Draco snarled. “And yet this is the second time my son has nearly died because of him!”
Then he turned his fury back on Albus. “You’re a disaster waiting to happen for him. Stay away from my son.”
Without acknowledging the devastated expression on the young Potter’s face, without giving him any chance to answer, Draco Malfoy turned and strode down the corridor towards the hospital wing.
Albus moved to follow him.
Harry held him back.
He didn’t loosen his grip even when Albus twisted around and shot him a look of pure confusion.
“Let me go!”
Harry shook his head. “Not now.”
“I want to see Scorpius!”
“You father is right,” Professor McGonagall said firmly. “Harry, take him back to the Slytherin dungeons.”
Albus opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a sharp gesture.
“And don’t think this is over. Both you and Scorpius will be punished for what happened.”
Like Draco before her, Minerva did not wait for a response. She turned on her heel and strode off in the same direction Draco Malfoy had disappeared.
“Dad!” Albus exclaimed as Harry urged him forward with a hand on his shoulder. “I just want to see him. I want to tell him I didn’t mean for this to happen. I need to know he’s okay!”
“His father is with him now,” Harry replied. “He doesn’t need you.”
“Yes, he does!” Albus shot back, wrenching his shoulders free. He turned around, his face tight with desperation. Pale. Shaken. Devastated.
Harry hesitated.
Albus seized the opportunity. “I know I messed up, but I swear I never wanted this to happen!”
“Albus—”
“Please, Dad. Just for a minute!”
With a sigh, Harry caught him by the wrist. “Not now. Albus, really, not now. Try to understand. What happened was serious. Very serious. Draco isn’t going to let you anywhere near him.”
“He said I have to stay away from him. I can’t stay away from him—he’s my best friend!” Albus shouted, yanking at his arm.
Harry tightened his grip, his expression hardening.
“You do not put your best friend’s life at risk,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Scorpius doesn’t need you right now. What you need is to think about what you’ve done.”
Albus tried to pull away again, but Harry drew him back sharply.
“Damn it, Albus, stop and think! He could have died—and so could you! Of course Draco wants to keep you away from him. I’d have reacted exactly the same way in his place.”
His voice dropped. “I have reacted that way for far less.”
Albus didn’t answer immediately. At least he stopped struggling.
Looking at his stricken expression, Harry thought that perhaps, finally, the reality of what had happened was beginning to sink in.
“I don’t want to lose him,” Albus whispered at last.
Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut.
With a quiet sigh, Harry released his wrist, wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and pulled him into a hug.
Albus clung to him immediately. “I swear, Dad,” he choked out, “I never wanted to hurt him.”
“I know,” Harry murmured.
For a moment, he rested his chin lightly against his son’s hair.
“But, Albus, you still have a lot to learn about what it means to be someone’s best friend. Friends protect each other. They don’t put each other in danger.”
“I was stupid!” Albus pleaded. “Please don’t let them keep us apart again.”
Harry held him a little tighter.
His son’s tears were genuine, and seeing him so broken hurt more than he wanted to admit.
“Give it some time,” he said, rubbing a hand slowly up and down Albus’s back. “Draco will calm down.”
He let Albus cry for a while longer before finally steering him towards the Slytherin dungeons, one arm still around his shoulders.
He hoped he hadn’t lied. He hoped Draco really would calm down.
But deep down, Harry feared it would take far longer than Albus imagined.
***
Madam Abbott assured Draco that Scorpius was merely shaken and already recovering physically. The wounds caused by the spell would leave no scars. They were shallow and would disappear completely within a week.
Draco felt a surge of relief.
Even so, his heart tightened when he reached his son's bedside.
Scorpius was awake, but dazed. He looked even paler than usual, and his glassy, half-lidded eyes struggled to lift towards his father—not from exhaustion alone, but from embarrassment as well.
Bloodstained bandages covered one cheek and part of his chest.
A wave of nausea twisted Draco's stomach.
He remembered all too well how painful those cuts had been. Despite Snape's healing spells. Despite Madam Pomfrey's potions and salves.
“Dad...” Scorpius murmured.
His fists tightened around the blankets. His voice trembled with uncertainty.
Since arriving, Draco had not said a word. His distress remained hidden behind the mask of composure he had learned to wear during those difficult final years at Hogwarts.
He blinked.
From the devastated look on his son's face, he realised that silence was being mistaken for anger and disappointment.
With a quiet sigh, he let some of his sadness show. He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and rested a hand over Scorpius's.
The boy trembled beneath his touch. Draco tightened his grip.
“Dad... I'm sorry,” Scorpius whispered.
His voice cracked with emotion. Tears shimmered in his eyes, barely held back.
Draco found that he could not bring himself to deliver the lecture he had intended.
He wanted to tell him he had been foolish. That what he had done had been unbelievably reckless. That he had risked his life. That Draco was deeply disappointed.
Instead, he said nothing.
In silence, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders.
When he had been a boy, his own father had never held him like that. Never embraced him simply to offer comfort. And Draco had felt the absence of it.
Scorpius stiffened in surprise.
Only for a moment.
Then the tension drained from his trembling body, and he broke down completely.
Draco had the distinct impression that something inside him finally gave way, as though he had been holding himself together for far too long.
“I'm an idiot,” Scorpius sobbed. “He doesn't want to say anything, and... and he'd do anything to stop people finding out about us. And I don't... I don't even know what we are anymore, because he spends so much energy trying to impress that girl that sometimes I wonder if... if maybe... maybe he doesn't really care about me at all.”
Draco sighed and held him a little tighter.
Young relationships were complicated. Particularly when the situation was already complicated to begin with.
“I feel so stupid,” Scorpius whispered brokenly. “I feel awful.”
“I know,” Draco murmured. “I can feel it.”
He lifted one hand and gently stroked his son's hair, now long enough to curl into soft, loose waves, just like his mother's.
“It shouldn't be this hard,” Scorpius said. “It shouldn't hurt this much.”
“No, Scorpius. It really shouldn't.” Draco kept his voice low.
He had no intention of interrupting him. He simply echoed his son's thoughts, letting him know he was listening, that he understood, that he was there.
Scorpius continued pouring out his frustration, and Draco listened.
He kept his criticisms to himself. Kept his reprimands to himself. And suffered quietly, the way only a parent can suffer when confronted with a child's pain.
He held him close until Madam Abbott appeared carrying one of her potions.
“He needs to calm down,” she said softly. “And he needs some rest.”
Draco nodded. Gently, he eased Scorpius back against the pillows.
The boy accepted the potion reluctantly. He was still far too upset and agitated, but he was grateful for its quick effects.
The liquid slid down his throat, spreading a comforting warmth through his body.
Within moments, his arms and legs seemed twice as heavy, and a soothing drowsiness settled over him.
Scorpius welcomed it. He let himself sink into that strange, peaceful limbo.
In one final moment of clarity, he turned his heavy eyes towards his father. “Stay...” he whispered.
Before sleep claimed him completely, he saw Draco nod.
What he did not see was the grief written plainly across his face.
*
Draco was still sitting beside his son when Harry Potter entered the hospital wing.
He approached quietly and stopped a step away from his former schoolmate.
“How is he?” he asked, almost under his breath.
Draco did not move. He had heard Harry come in, but he had not even bothered to turn his head.
“He's suffering,” he replied curtly.
“Draco, I truly am sorry. More than you can imagine. I don't understand what gets into him, why he keeps doing things this reckless, what he still thinks he has to prove. But I promise you, we're not going to let this slide. When Ginny hears what happened—”
“I wasn't lying,” Draco cut in sharply. “You are a constant curse on my family. You always have been. And now your son is becoming one too.”
“Draco...” Harry began.
But Draco shook his head.
At last, he tore his gaze away from Scorpius's pale, drawn face and looked at his old rival.
“Don't misunderstand me. I'm fully aware that I was on the wrong side back then. My father too. I know perfectly well that my family's lives meant nothing to Voldemort.” His voice remained calm, but there was bitterness beneath it. “I've seen enough horrors to last a lifetime, and I know that by killing that monster, you freed me as much as anyone else.”
He paused.
“But you also made my life hell. And now your son is doing the same to mine. The difference is that I don't know how to protect him.”
“Draco... Albus made a terrible mistake. He knows that. He's devastated by what happened. He still does a lot of foolish things, but he's not cruel. He has a lot of growing up left to do.”
“And why should my son be the one paying the price for that immaturity?” Draco shot back. “Tell me, Harry—would you be happy if the situation were reversed? What did you do when you believed Scorpius was a threat to Albus?”
Harry looked away. “We both know separating them was a mistake.”
“Yes. It was a mistake when Scorpius needed Albus,” Draco replied, frowning. “I'm no longer convinced that's true.”
His gaze drifted back to the sleeping boy. “He wasn't suffering like this before. Now he's heartbroken, and it's agony to watch him like this.”
His expression softened despite himself.
“Scorpius is nothing like me. I was spoiled. Arrogant. He's different. He's kind. Trusting. He'd do anything for the people he loves.” His jaw tightened. “Even let them hurt him. And I need to find a way to protect him from that.”
“Albus didn't want to hurt him,” Harry insisted.
He could see exactly where Draco's thoughts were leading.
Perhaps facing the consequences of this disaster would force Albus to grow up faster.
But Harry also knew his son. Albus was gloomy by nature. Quick to brood. Quick to retreat into himself.
Without Scorpius beside him, Harry feared he would become even more withdrawn, even more resentful.
“I don't care what Albus wanted or didn't want!” Draco snapped, struggling to keep his voice low. “The only thing I care about is what Scorpius wants. I don't want to watch him suffer like this anymore, and right now staying away from your reckless son seems like the only solution.”
“Don't separate them, Draco. Don't make the same mistake I did.”
“I'll do whatever I have to do for my son's sake,” Draco replied flatly.
He was tired of the argument. Harry didn't know the whole story and it certainly wasn't Draco's place to explain the nature of the relationship between their sons.
That was something Albus should have done himself. He should have owned up to the feelings he kept insisting he had.
And he should have stopped hurting Scorpius.
Draco hated seeing his son in pain. He hated it even more when Harry Potter tried to advise him without knowing half of what was really going on.
Irritated, he turned back towards the sleeping boy. “It's going to be a long night, Potter,” he said coldly.
The message was clear enough.
Behind him, Harry let out a weary sigh.
A few seconds later, he left without another word.