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torestoreamends · 7 years

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Moramortia: Chapter 2

It’s a relief for everyone to have Scorpius back at Hogwarts. But it quickly becomes clear that all is still not well with him...

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II Back to Normal

The dorm is dark and perfectly still, apart from the two pinpricks of light glowing within Scorpius's tightly drawn, deep green hangings. It creates a cosy little emerald cave for two, warm, and comfortable, and safe.

Scorpius is curled up on his side under his blankets, Bathilda the Bat cradled against his side, and Albus is sitting up beside him, leaning on the head rest. Both their wands are lit, and the soft white light makes Scorpius's hair glow silver. The conjured wall of quiet around them, courtesy of a 'Muffliato' from Scorpius, creates a warm barrier of privacy between them and the rest of the world.

"You know," Scorpius says quietly, glancing up at Albus, "there were a couple of days when I really thought I might not come back here?"

Albus looks down at him. "Was it that bad?"

Scorpius nods solemnly. "There's nothing like thinking you'll never see somewhere again to make you appreciate it. Just being here is wonderful. This bed is so comfortable, and the food... Albus, I really hope you never have to eat hospital food. It's vile. I swear they had fish every other day, and you know how much I hate fish." He pulls a face of pure disgust. "You'd have thought they'd feed you well in a place where people are trying to get better from things, but apparently not. And now I'm here and it's like putting little bits of heaven in my mouth every time I eat anything."

Albus smiles. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. And I'm glad you're back too. It was lonely without you. Do you know how many classes I nearly missed because you weren't here to wake me up? And I definitely need your help with Transfiguration."

Scorpius looks up at him. "I would love nothing more than to help you. I think I missed the homework as much as anything else. When Flitwick set us that essay earlier I nearly cried with happiness."

"You weren't the only one who wanted to cry," Albus mutters.

Scorpius nudges his leg. "Seriously, Albus. I thought my brain was going to shrivel up and die. They wouldn't even let me read my owls. It was just rest. Constant rest. But now I'm free and it is wonderful."

"I would have visited you," Albus says, reaching out and brushing his fingers through Scorpius's hair. It's warm and delightfully soft, and it's so nice to be able to touch it again. Scorpius closes his eyes, a contented smile on his face.

"If I'd known you were so bored," Albus says, "I would have come and visited you every day."

"I'm not sure I'd have wanted you to see me like that," Scorpius murmurs. "You think I look awful now... it was a lot worse before."

"But you're better now," Albus says, looking down at him. "You're here. And I know you're still hurting, but..."

Scorpius nods. "I am better, you're right. And the pain isn't so bad..." he picks at his blankets. "It comes and goes, like I said. Most of the time it's okay. I can handle it. And then there are other times when..." he swallows. "When it's like it's coming in waves and I feel like I'm going to drown in it."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Albus asks, smoothing a hand over his shoulder.

Scorpius looks up at him. "Hold my hand."

"Easy." Albus reaches out and takes both of them, squeezing them gently.

"And don't leave me."

Albus holds on tighter. "I would never-"

"I know. I just didn't want to assume..." Scorpius looks away, down at their linked fingers. He pulls one of his hands free and toys with the cuff of his pyjama top. "I have to go back to the hospital this weekend. They want to do some tests or something."

"Tests?" Albus asks in alarm. "What for?"

"I'm not really sure. To see if I'm getting better, I suppose." He shrugs, clearly avoiding Albus's eyes.

Albus studies him for a moment. "You're worried."

Scorpius swallows. "A little. I think given my family history... But I'm sure it will be fine." He looks up suddenly and gives Albus a very bright smile, almost too bright. Albus feels a bit sick at the sight of how falsely cheerful it is.

"Anyway! Scorpius chirps. "Tell me about your exam results. Dad heard you did brilliantly last year, which you deserved to. You worked so hard."

Albus does his best to conjure up some enthusiasm as the conversation turns to more mundane topics. But as they talk he can't shake the faint sense of dread, and the feeling that Scorpius knows more about what's going on than he's willing to say.

It's still nice though, talking, just the two of them, about whatever they can think of to say. Once they get started they don't stop until, halfway through an anecdote about James nearly knocking himself out with a broomstick, Albus realises Scorpius has fallen asleep.

He looks so peaceful, glowing in the wand light, a little smile on his face, all wrapped up in the blankets. Albus is half tempted to stay with him, but he doesn't want to intrude, not when Scorpius so clearly needs rest, and never without permission. Instead he leans down and brushes a kiss on Scorpius's cheek, something he'd never dare do if Scorpius were awake. Then he Noxes both their wands, slides quietly out from behind the hangings, and returns to his own bed. There he lies on his side in the darkness and tries not to think about what Scorpius needing more tests might mean.

---

Scorpius perches on the bannister at the top of the stairs overlooking the Entrance Hall. He's paying very little attention to the chaos going on around him, like the whirlwind of students is none of his business, even though technically he's supposed to be helping Rose instil some sort of order.

"Do you think I told him too much?" He asks, kicking his feet back and forward. "I didn't want to worry him."

"He's Albus," Rose replies distractedly, scanning the crowds of students. "He worries about everything. When you disappeared he thought Delphi had broken out of Azkaban and kidnapped you and your dad."

Scorpius smiles. "That sounds like the sort of thing he'd think."

"My point is, he'll worry whatever you tell him. Maybe you should-" She breaks off to yell at a couple of people on the stairs. "Will you two stop pushing? Everyone's going to get to dinner eventually. There's plenty of food." She glares at them as they look ashamed and continue down the stairs at a more sedate pace, then she rolls her eyes and turns back to Scorpius. "Maybe you should just be honest with him. You might be an excellent liar but Albus knows you better than anyone, he can read you like a book. And he's your boyfriend. Shouldn't you-"

"Correction," Scorpius says, leaning down towards her and gripping the bannister with both hands, so he doesn't fall off. "He is not my boyfriend. Not officially."

She shakes her head. "I still don't understand that."

"We decided we didn't want to ruin a perfectly decent friendship."

Rose points at him. "You two are weird." She shakes her head in despair. "Anyway. Shouldn't you tell him things? That's the point of friends. You can talk to them."

"Sometimes..." Scorpius hugs himself and bounces his heels off a marble column.

Rose surveys him for a moment, then waves him down. "You're being useless, Scorpius. Come and help me. We can talk in a minute."

Scorpius hops off the balcony. "I'm sick," he complains. "You're supposed to be nice to me."

"No, I'm not. You were the one who spent all day telling me how excited you are to yell at people again. Now's your chance."

They spread out and start directing traffic. The dinner rush is always a nightmare, especially in the first couple of weeks when the first years are still a little lost and likely to be crushed by the stampede. Luckily it thins out quickly, until just a few stragglers are left. Albus is among the last to come through.

He grins at them as he passes, and catches Scorpius's hand. "Dinner?"

"Nothing could make me happier." Scorpius pulls him into a brief hug.

Rose pretends to gag.

"I'll see you in a minute then." Albus slips out of his grasp and disappears down the stairs.

Scorpius watches him go for a moment, then, as he turns back to Rose he feels the pain start to flare up again. It starts somewhere in his chest, the way it always does, then spreads down his torso like every single one of his ribs is breaking. His lungs are on fire. His stomach aches. Beneath him his legs collapse, which is almost a relief because his head is overtaken by enough pain to make him see stars. It's sickening, and he presses his forehead against the cool stone floor for any kind of relief.

He's felt a Cruciatus curse before, the worst kind of pain imaginable, that rips mercilessly through your body. Even that was better than this. At least he knew when that would end, how it would end, with either immediate death or a bit of respite. This is unpredictable. When he was in hospital it was like this for hours upon hours.

Thankfully, this time it fades almost as quickly as it came, and he finds himself screwed up on the floor at the top of the Marble Staircase, breathing hard and clutching his chest.

Rose is kneeling beside him with a look of immense concern on her face. "This is what's wrong with you?"

Scorpius nods and starts trying to peel himself off the ground. He feels weak and his head is spinning. "Intense pain, whenever I'm least expecting it. It's not normally so bad."

Rose puts a hand on his arm and helps him sit up stairs. "Does Albus know about this?"

"I may have had a small moment in front of him the other day. Not like that though." He rubs his chest and tries to take deep breaths. The pain is receding, but he wishes it would do it faster.

"And these tests you're having..." Rose says. "I know curses usually skip a few generations, but..."

He looks up at her. "Yes, Rose. They do think I might have the same disease as my mum."

Rose sits down very hard on the step beside him and says nothing, almost as if she's too stunned to speak. Scorpius takes the moment to arrange himself into a more comfortable position beside her. He continues with his deep, steady breathing, and the pain starts to seep away, becoming just a residual dull ache in his bones.

"When I was really ill," he says finally. "I felt..." He pulls his sleeves over his hands and stares down at them. "I felt the way Mum looked over that last summer. Sleeping all the time, too weak to do anything, no appetite. Just slowly fading away. But then I got better... I don't really understand why." He sighs and hugs his arms against his chest. "You know they can't figure out what's wrong with me? Apparently with Mum they diagnosed it straight away, but I don't think they even know yet with me. It's just some horrible mystery illness that might be slowly killing me and they have no idea how to stop it."

Rose's eyes shine bronze in the light from the lamp above them as she looks at him. "Are you scared?"

Scorpius shrugs. "I don't think there's any point in being scared. There's nothing I can do. It's either happening or it isn't. And Mum... she was scared but she tried not to let it affect how she lived her life."

"You're not your mum though."

"No," he says, looking down at his knees. "But I think she's an excellent person to emulate." He reaches out for the bannister and drags himself to his feet. Nothing hurts anymore and he only feels slightly dizzy, which is something.

"Where do you think you're going?" Rose asks, hopping up beside him, ready to catch him if he falls.

"I said I'd have dinner with Albus."

"Are you going to collapse again?" She asks, scrutinising him.

"I hope not. I'm starving."

Rose pauses, then steps forward and hugs him tightly. "Look after yourself, Scorpius."

Scorpius hugs her back and feels a small twinge of pain that he manages to brush aside. "I promise I will."

---

Draco Malfoy has spent an unfortunately large proportion of his adult life pacing anxiously around hospital rooms, and he's doing it again now. Scorpius sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed and tries to ignore him. There's a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay he needs to have done for Monday, and still hasn't finished reading all the theory, thanks to the classes he's missed. But it's almost impossible to concentrate on complicated spell theory when his dad's shoes are squeaking on the floor.

After a couple of minutes he snaps his book shut and glares at him. "Dad. You see these chairs all around us? They're here for a reason. You're supposed to sit in them so you don't drive the person in the bed completely insane."

Draco comes to a halt, takes a very deep breath, and sits in the chair beside Scorpius's bed, back rigid. He clenches his hands in his lap. "Sorry."

Scorpius bows his head and flicks the pages of the book under his fingers. "It's not your fault," he mutters.

His dad looks at him. "You're frustrated. I understand. Your mother... It frustrated her too. The sitting around and waiting for answers. Not being able to get on with things. You were made for better things than this, both of you."

Scorpius stacks his books up carefully on the bed in front of him and looks up at his dad. "I'm sorry."

"What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"

"For getting sick? For putting you through this again. You already did this once with mum. It wasn't fair then, and now..." He waves a hand and shakes his head

"Life isn't fair, Scorpius. We both know that." His dad twists his hands together in his lap. "If there were some way of healing you, I would do it in a heartbeat. If I could bring your mother back... But there are things that can't be achieved with magic. Changing life and death... I know you understand that, as hard as it sometimes is to accept."

Scorpius nods and starts fiddling with the edge of the bit of parchment in front of him, curling the corner up then flattening it back out until it's creased and rolling up. "Do you think..." he swallows and glances up. "Do you think I'm going to die, Dad?"

Draco looks at him, grey eyes hard with steely determination. "That's what we're here to find out. We're going to find out what's wrong with you, Scorpius, wherever we have to go, however long it takes. I will not let you suffer."

"And what if they don't know?" Scorpius asks, avoiding his eyes. "Or what if I'd rather just go to school with my friends and pretend everything's fine?"

His dad considers for several long seconds. "You're of age," he says finally. "You're old enough to make your own decisions. It took me an awfully long time to find happiness, and I don't want to keep you from yours. I doubt happiness for you is sitting in a room like this."

Scorpius looks around at it. He's always hated hospital rooms, and this one is no better than any of the others he's visited. "Not really."

Draco nods. "Then if we fail to get any answers today we won't come back unless things deteriorate."

Scorpius looks up at him in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"This is your life," his dad says, holding his gaze. "I'm not going to control it for you. I want you to find the things that make your life less murky in the time you have, however much time that may be."

Scorpius looks at his dad for a moment, then says quite quietly, "I love you."

Draco nods. "I love you too. And I am incredibly proud of your bravery. Your mother would have been too."

Scorpius smiles and hugs one of his books to his chest. "Do you think?"

"She was always proud to call you her son. She loved you very much, and you are a- Scorpius?"

Scorpius's smile has faded. One of his hands is planted firmly on the bed and the other is pressed against his chest, where the burning pain has started blossoming outwards again.

Draco gets to his feet and is at the door in two strides, calling down the hall. "We need a Healer in here. Immediately."

"Dad," Scorpius groans weakly. "It's okay. It's-"

"Don't speak," his dad says urgently, rushing back to him. "Save your energy. You should lie down." He puts a hand on Scorpius's back to support him.

Scorpius doesn't have it in him to argue so he just curls up on the bed, his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay crumpled under his feet. His dad hovers by his shoulder until three Healers appear and start assessing him. Somewhere in his pain-addled brain he's glad they're here. If there were ever a moment to work out what's wrong with him this is it. Everything aches. He feels sick. He can't bear it. All he can do is screw his eyes tight shut, and grit his teeth and try not to throw up.

"I'm right here, Scorpius," his dad murmurs from close by.

Scorpius nods and reaches for his hand. There's another wave of pain and he clings on, trying not to pass out. The Healers swarm around him, wands out, talking at him; asking questions he can barely manage to answer. It's another hour before he's left in any peace and the pain fades away. He falls asleep, still holding his dad's hand, and when he comes to another hour or so after that there's a Healer there waiting to talk to them.

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#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Cursed Child #Scorbus #cursedchildnetwork #scorpius malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Rose Granger-Weasley #Draco Malfoy #Malfoy family feels #hpcc fic #Keep The Secrets #My writing #Moramortia #Mayhem to the nth degree

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hamkeepsnotes · 7 years

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In The After - pt 4

Fic Summary: Recovery is perhaps the hardest part of war. (A series of one shots about the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War and what it means to get better.)

Chapter Summary: Blaise is nothing if not protective of his daughter, but sometimes he doesn’t need to be.

Characters: Blaise Zabini, Magdalena Zabini (oc), Draco Malfoy

Word Count: 2231

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Blaise Zabini (June 17, 2007)

After Hogwarts, Blaise found himself drifting. Having been a Slytherin who stayed out of the war, most of his former friends were in Azkaban or under house arrest, and the remainder considered him a bit of a traitor. His interactions with his yearmates were reduced to the occasional letters from the Greengrass sisters, Pansy, and Draco.

For the most part, Blaise was content with this. He spent his days at his clothing store in Diagon Alley, and his evenings with his wife, an Italian witch named Maria, and his daughter. Limited interactions with the people of his youth meant they were safe, and he would do anything to keep them safe.

That was the thing – as much as Blaise liked to pretend that he was fine after the war, he lived in fear of something happening to them. That fear was what kept him from allowing Magdalena out of the Zabini manor more often than not, leaving her in the care of his mother while he and Maria were at work. (While the knowledge of what his mother was capable of was equally worrying, he knew she’d do nothing to hurt her own granddaughter.)

Unfortunately, his mother was getting on her years, and she had monthly appointments at St. Mungo’s to keep her health up and ensure she never looked her age. Usually, Maria was able to take the day off to watch Mag, but on this particularly sunny June day, she had an urgent meeting at the Ministry and a doctor’s appointment of her own in the afternoon. Which meant for the first time in Mag’s young life, she was going to be spending the day at Blaise’s shop.

He rushed around the shop, picking scissors and pins up from places where the three-year-old could easily reach. His manager, Danae, stood in the doorway of the storeroom, watching him with her eyebrows raised.

“I’ve never seen you show this much emotion at once before,” she commented drily as Blaise shut the door tightly on the tailoring room. She caught the key when he tossed it to her, and watched him lean back letting out a sigh of relief at his newly toddler-proofed shop. “You know that if she really wants to get something, she’ll find a way, right?”

Blaise shrugged. “In that case I’m making things as hard as possible for her,” he replied, standing up straight as emerald green flames roared to life in the fireplace. Maria stepped out gracefully, as always, with Mag clutching her tightly and burying her face in her mother’s shoulder.

“Sorry we’re a bit late,” Maria said, carefully placing Mag on the floor and whipping a bag off her shoulder to hand to Blaise. “I couldn’t find my ID badge.”

Blaise nodded, leaning down so Mag could run into his arms. “Take all the time you need, my love,” he said kindly, kissing the top of his daughter’s head as he lifted her up.

“You be good for Papa, you hear me?” Maria directed the question at their daughter. “I’ll see you both tonight.”

She left as quickly as she came, the smell of smoke and rose petals lingering in the air behind her. Mag leaned back to peer into her father’s face and tilted her small head.

“What are we doing today, Daddy?” she asked excitedly, blinking up at him with her nearly violet eyes.

Blaise adjusted her on his hip and headed for the front counter, where he perched his daughter on the glass countertop and opened the cash register to count the change. “Well, polpetta, I have to wait until two more employees arrive to help Ms. Danae, and then you and I are heading out to post advertisements in other shops to get ready for the school year. And then, I was thinking there might be a little girl who wants some ice cream?”

Mag gasped, pressing her chubby hands to her cheeks. “Ice cream?” she asked incredulously. Blaise grinned and nodded. He’d been told once that his grin made him look like he was a dog about to bite, but it seemed to delight Mag. The toddler clapped her hands happily, kicking her feet against the counter before she could remember that wasn’t allowed.

She started chattering happily, watching her father work as he cleaned the shelves and rearranged the jewelry display. Blaise’s eyes kept darting towards the doorway and fireplace wearily, concerned that someone with a long-held grudge against him would hear about Mag and use her against him. Maybe he should just take her home.

Ethan and Artemis arrived not long after he finished straightening the window display with Mag’s help, arguing over something that he didn’t particularly care to enquire about. With a quick wave, he scooped Mag up, put a folder of fliers into her bag, and they stepped out into the alley.

Mag stared around with wide eyes, watching the morning rush of wizards hurrying towards Gringotts. She let out a small “wow” at the sight, curling her fingers into Blaise’s shirt as she leaned over to peer in the window of the shops they passed.

Blaise smiled fondly at her, hoisting her higher on his hip, and pointing towards the tall, marble-pillared building farther up the street. “That’s Gringotts,” he said, watching the awed look in his daughter’s eyes. “We need to stop there first, so I can get some money for our ice cream.”

With practiced ease, he weaved through the crowd, answering his daughter’s quiet inquiries about the shops they passed. The goblin in the doorway of Gringotts eyed them warily, despite Mag waving at it brightly.

Entering the huge, marbled entry to Gringotts seemed to take the toddler by surprise. She was so bemused by it all, leaning back with wide eyes and staring up at the high ceilings, that she didn’t even notice when Blaise clutched her tighter, holding her closely as he hurried past a figure shrouded in a black robe.

In fact, she seemed endlessly enthralled by the whole experience, not even complaining about the dizzying ride down to the vault, the grumpiness of the goblin, or the darkness of the vaults once they arrived. Everything was taken in with a childlike wonder that Blaise wished he possessed. Seeing such things for the first time, with no knowledge of the war they’d been through, had to be incredible.

He let himself ignore the anxiety at the pit of his stomach as he watched his daughter, eventually even letting her wander along the cobbled streets herself, though he held her hand tightly at all times.

The last place he expected anything to happen was in Quality Quidditch Supplies.

He left Mag by the Holyhead Harpies merchandise, smiling at the way her small fingers trailed over the faces of the women on the team, eying the natural curls of Angelina Johnson with particular awe.

Blaise turned to speak to Mr. Flightwin, the owner of the store, about leaving coupons for quidditch robes at the counter. When he turned back, Mag had disappeared.

Panic flared in his chest as he looked around the small shop and saw no sign of her. He knew that he should have just stayed home with her. There were too many people who would hurt her to get to him, too many people who still held grudges that were a decade old. She was gone and it was his fault. She could be hurt. They could hurt her. Someone could hurt his baby girl.

With this thought in mind he darted out of the store, pulling himself to his full height to scan the street. The ball of fear that lodged itself in his throat grew with every passing second. He turned on his heel and half-ran up the street, towards where Knockturn Alley converged with Diagon. If anyone had taken Mag, that’s where they’d be headed. He was sure of it.

“Magdalena!” he yelled, shoving past a witch with a particularly tall pointy hat. “Mag?”

“Daddy!”

He whipped around at the sound of her small voice, searching through the crowd for her. Someone was holding his daughter in the doorway of Avalon Toys, clutching her to their chest as she waved for Blaise. A blind panic took over him, and he barely remembered getting from one end of the street to the other before Mag was pushed safely behind him and his wand was at the stranger’s throat.

“Don’t you dare touch my daughter ever again,” he snapped, eyes hard. He heard his daughter let out a small whimper, clutching at the legs of his pants.

The person laughed warmly, tilting their head. “It’s nice to see you have emotions besides cold indifference, Zabini,” they said.

Blaise froze, stepping back and letting his wand arm drop to his side. The few people who’d stopped to stare at the commotion hurried away, glancing at the trio as they went. Soon, Blaise was left alone with Mag and – “Malfoy,” Blaise said coolly.

Mag stepped forward a little now that the danger was past, peering between the men cautiously. There was a tense silence before Malfoy broke it with a laugh, running a hand across his perfectly styled hair.

“I must say, that is not the greeting I’d expect from you,” he chuckled, smiling kindly down at Mag. She waved timidly back, a small smile crossing her face.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Malfoy,” he apologized, bending down to lift Mag to her spot on his hip. “Our school years have left me a bit paranoid. You can understand that I never want anything to happen to my daughter.”

Malfoy nodded, smiling at the girl on Blaise’s hip. “Of course,” he replied. “My own son is four. I live in fear that something will happen to him.”

“Ah, yes, Scorpius is it? I believe Astoria mentioned in an owl.”

“Yes, he’s the light of my life,” he said, a smile that Blaise wasn’t sure he’d ever seen crossing the other man’s face. “And this is Mag, correct?”

Blaise smiled. “Yes, short for Magdalena. She’s three. This is her first time in the alley.”

“Lucky I was the one who happened upon her, then, isn’t that right, Mag?” Draco said with a thin smile. There was something haunted in his eyes. Blaise knew that things hadn’t been great for him after the war, that only the intervention of Harry Potter saved him and his mother from Azkaban and shortened his father’s sentence. A part of his heart ached for the man that he once called his friend, and the child he was raising.

Mag nodded vigorously, flashing him a dimpled smile. “Uh-huh. Daddy, Mr. Malfoy was helping me find you, only I didn’t know your name so that made it harder. And I found you! Isn’t he nice?”

“He’s very nice, tesoro,” Blaise replied, kissing the top of her curly hair. “We were friends when we went to school. Did you know that?”

Mag shook her head. “Nope,” she popped the ‘p,’ and Blaise felt his heart melting at her adorableness. If there was one thing that always broke him, it was Mag. She was the cutest thing he’d ever seen – not that he’d seen many particularly cute things.

Malfoy hummed softly. “Mag, how would you like to make a friend someday?” he asked, eyes locked on Blaise’s face. Blaise frowned. What was he getting at?

Shock crossed the little girl’s face. “A friend?” she asked excitedly, looking quickly between Blaise and Malfoy as if she was watching a particularly active quidditch match. “Who?

“My son, Scorpius, is about your age,” he continued. “I think it’d do both you and your father some good to come over some time. We have a lovely cottage in the village of Merlin’s Hill, you should bring Maria, make a day of it.” The last part was directed at Blaise, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Are you trying to get me out of the house more, Malfoy?” he asked wryly, a small smirk on his face.

“From the looks of things you need it,” Malfoy replied. “And it’s purely selfish. Tori doesn’t get out much since Scorpius was born, and he doesn’t have many friends – I’m not particularly keen on him spending time with Parkinson’s girl, for good reason. He has cousins through Daphne, but they don’t get along particularly well. Too rowdy. This would be good for him. And for Mag, too, I imagine.”

Blaise thought for a moment before shifting Mag’s weight. “Alright,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake. “I’ll owl you to discuss the details.”

When Malfoy walked away, Blaise set Mag down, watching the man as he made his way towards Gringotts, cutting through the crowd of wizards like a knife through soft cheese. For the first time in ten years, Blaise felt like he had a friend.

Mag was tugging impatiently at the leg of his trousers, a small pout on her face. “Daddy, you promised ice cream,” she complained.

“I did,” he agreed, laughing a little and ruffling her hair, much to her dismay. “Let’s go, then.” Mag let out a small squeal of joy, tugging his hand and leading them the wrong way. He laughed and swung her around the other direction.

For the first time in years, he felt light. Happy.

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