Person A has a child from a previous relationship or that they adopted themselves before they met Person B. Person A and B are now dating, and B is close to A’s child, but does not consider themself to be a parent.
Person A is walking with their child down a busy sidewalk, about a block away from Person B’s work, where A and their child were going to meet them. Suddenly, A feels their child’s hand slip out of theirs, and they quickly turn in the crowd and work their way backwards, looking for their kid.
Person A goes into an alley that they’d just passed, and finds their kid’s wrist being tightly held by some stranger. Person A punches the stranger, forcing them to release A’s child.
A quickly checks their child for injuries, and gives them their phone to call for help. Person A’s adrenaline is running high, and there’s no way this stranger is going to get away with touching A’s kid.
After a fight, Person A, with a black eye, is pinning the stranger against the wall by their neck– not choking them, but near enough.
Person A’s child had apparently called Person B before calling the police. Person B quickly arrives and checks A’s child again for injuries, then turns their attention to Person A, who’s begun to add pressure to their hold on the stranger.
Person B quickly reaches out and places a hand gently on Person A’s shoulder. Person A glances to B, but their focus remains mostly on the stranger.
“A, he’s not worth it. Keep your peace of mind, let him go to prison, and pay for it there,” B reasons and A listens begrudgingly. After a bit more convincing, Person A loosens their hold on the stranger enough that he isn’t choking. They hear the police arrive, and Person A punches the stranger firmly in the nose before letting him drop to the ground.
As soon as the police have the stranger in custody, Person A rushes back to Person B and A’s child, and checks them for injuries as they talk to the police about the stranger.
After a long long day, Person A, B and A’s child get home. It isn’t long before the day catches up with A’s child, and Person A is tucking them into bed. A double checks the window locks, turns on the night light, and makes their way out of their child’s room.
B stands outside of A’s child’s room, waiting for the ritual to end. And as soon as A closes the door, they begin to cry into Person B’s shoulder, finally allowing themselves to feel how petrified they were from the day’s events. Person B leads A to the living room, where A begins to sob outright, clinging tighter and tighter to Person B’s shirt. “I, I almost, I almost l-lost my kid. Oh my God. I, I would’ve killed him, B, I would’ve killed him for touching my kid. Oh my God my kid. I almost lost them. I was so scared B– I thought, I thought- I don’t know what I-I’d do if, if, if, if they took my kid-d…”
Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.
“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.”
The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.
“Did you want something?”
“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.
And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.
“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”
“I want my friends to come visit.”
Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”
“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”
Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge.
“I see. For how long?”
“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”
Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”
I want my friends…friends…how often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables.
“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”
Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”
Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”
“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”
“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”
“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”
“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”
Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click.
Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front.
Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.
“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”
<b>Hufflepuff:</b> *is babysitting*<p/><b>Baby:</b> *starts crying*<p/><b>Hufflepuff:</b> No! No you're ok don't cry!<p/><b>Hufflepuff:</b> What do I do?!<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> *trying to ignore the baby*<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> *sighs and puts down book*<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> Give him here.<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> *takes baby and rocks him*<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> *coos* You're ok little one.<p/><b>Baby:</b> *stops crying*<p/><b>Hufflepuff:</b> You're good with babies??<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> If you tell anyone, I'll kill you.<p/></p>