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In Loco Parentis	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16795 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all identifiable characters are copyright of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scolastic and Warner Brothers. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and makes no money. No copyright infringement intended.

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Chapter One: Harry, Scorpius and... Daddy?!

May 2006

“…Happy birthday, to you!” finished the crowd of well-wishers, and with that a delighted Scorpius blew out the five candles on his Snitch birthday cake, receiving a hug cheer for his efforts. The boy giggled and gave Harry a huge hug.

“Thank you, Harry,” he said, giving his guardian a huge, sloppy kiss. “This is brilliant.”

“You’re very welcome, Scorp,” Harry replied, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately.

It had been nearly four years since Scorpius Malfoy had arrived to live with Harry Potter full-time. Never once had Harry regretted his decision. Many had thought he was mad at first, Ron included, for taking the boy into his home, but it was plain for anyone to see now just how much Harry adored the youngster. And the feeling was clearly mutual- Scorpius idolised his father-figure.

Harry often thought that looking at Scorpius was like looking at a de-aged Draco; the grey-silver eyes were identical, as was the platinum-blond hair and pointed features. Scorpius even pouted and sulked when he didn’t get his own way in the same manner that Harry remembered an eleven-year-old Draco doing at Hogwarts. He was his father in miniature. But there was none of the arrogance, or the elitism or haughtiness of his father. Everyone who met Scorpius- and the list was, admittedly, limited for security reasons- couldn’t help but love the child. Even Ron.

“Did you have a good birthday, Scorp?” Harry asked that evening, as he tucked the boy up in his bed in Grimmauld Place.

The house was unrecognisable from how it was during its time as headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix. It was clean, light and airy, complete with modern furnishings and pale décor. Bill had used his Curse-Breaker skills to remove Mad-Eye’s curses from the property shortly after Voldemort’s defeat. Walburga Black’s portrait had finally been removed when Harry and Ron took a sledgehammer apiece to the wall and knocked through to the dining room, and Harry had instructed Kreacher to put the house-elf heads in his own sleeping quarters, if he wished to keep them. Scorpius’ bedroom was in pale blue with intricately- detailed dragons decorating the walls. Harry’s own tribute to Scorpius’ father.

“It was the best, Harry,” Scorpius replied sleepily. He yawned. “Tell me again about my daddy, Harry. Please. Tell me about how he flew on his broomstick.”

Harry smiled and, scooping the kid into his arms for a cuddle, launched into the well-told story of the former Slytherin’s Quidditch skills. Harry always hammed-up Draco’s flying ability for the boy, almost portraying him as a god in the air, when in reality Harry remembered him as a mediocre flyer who had bought his way onto the Slytherin team, and tried on more than one occasion to knock Harry off his broom. But Scorpius loved it. If lying about his nemesis’ skills in the air made Scorpius happy, then Harry was prepared to do it.

“And then your daddy launched into the Wronski Feint! Two hundred feet he must have plummeted before he pulled up, his fingers grazing the blades of grass on the Quidditch pitch, and the Ravenclaw Seeker who was following crashed into the ground. And then-” this was Scorpius’ favourite part and, Harry noticed, the boy was sitting upright and fully alert, eyes shining with excitement despite his tiredness, “- your daddy soared back into the sky at full-speed, and plucked the Snitch out of the air! ‘Slytherin wins!’ the commentator called, and the crowd all cheered, and your daddy was the hero of his house for the rest of the term.”

Scorpius squealed with delight and clapped his hands together, a pink flush of pleasure on his cheeks. Harry kissed him on the top of his head, hoping that the boy would never realise that the story was complete and utter fabrication.

“When I go to Hogwarts, Harry, do you think I’ll be a Slytherin, like Daddy was?” Scorpius asked. Harry pulled him tighter. Honestly, he didn’t know. The boy was only five, after all, and at the moment he could quite easily fit into any of the four houses.

“You might be,” he offered. “Or you might take after me and go to Gryffindor. But I’ll love you whatever house you go in to. Goodnight, Scorp. I’ll see you in the morning.” He waved his wand and extinguished the oil lamps in the boy’s bedroom, and could hear Scorpius’ gentle snores before he’d even crossed the room and reached the door.

Harry closed the door quietly and walked down the stairs to his study, where he dug out the Malfoy case file. He sighed deeply and put his head in his hands. In three months’ time it will be five years. Five years since Malfoy and his wife disappeared, and the Aurors were no closer solving the case now than they were then. Eye witnesses reported seeing the couple in Diagon Alley, before a masked wizard forced them into an alleyway. A terrified woman’s scream had been heard, and then the pair had simply disappeared. The only evidence that had remained at the scene of the kidnapping was a drop of blood which tests had shown was Draco’s. Harry was eternally thankful Scorpius had remained in Malfoy Manor with his grandmother that fateful day.

In 2003, on the second anniversary of the kidnapping, the decomposed body of Annalisa was delivered to the Ministry, with a mocking note attached. The letter had been sealed with the Dark Mark emblem imprinted on it. The body, which by this point was little more than the skeleton and some tissue residue, was even examined by a discreet Muggle pathologist who had a witch cousin for clues, but nothing of any use was revealed.

Nothing had ever been heard or seen of Draco Malfoy since that day back in 2001. His magical signature had not been detected anywhere. That, and combined with the fact his wife’s body had been recovered, meant that in October 2005 he was declared legally dead, and his Gringotts Vaults had been transferred to Scorpius. Harry had felt very sad that day, although he managed to hide his sorrow from Scorpius. He may never have liked the git, but he and Draco had saved each other’s lives towards the end of the second war. And without Draco’s wand, the war would have been lost. Harry also had not forgotten the Malfoys’ defection at the last minute from the Dark Lord. It wasn’t enough to save Lucius from a twenty-year sentence in Azkaban, but it did keep Draco out of the place. Harry had even spoken in his defence at his Death Eater trial shortly after Voldemort’s defeat. He laughed sardonically now at the irony that the man would have been better off joining his father in prison after all. But then, of course, there would have been no Scorpius. Whatever had happened to Draco and his wife, Harry would never regret Scorpius being born.

Harry once more pored through the list of known Death Eaters who had managed to escape arrest after Voldemort’s defeat and were still on the run. All the major Death Eaters who hadn’t been killed during the Battle of Hogwarts- the Lestrange brothers, the Carrows, Dolohov, Rookwood, Yaxley- were all serving life terms under maximum security in Azkaban. After Lupin’s death, Harry had shared the Marauder’s Map with Kingsley and the man was so impressed he had immediately ordered a similar map be created of the wizarding prison. This meant it was now impossible for people to escape under the guise of a visitor and leave others in their place, like Barty Crouch had done so many years previously. Those bastards were all still safely locked up, and there were no other suspects who could hold such a grudge against the Malfoy family. It was a huge mystery and, with no leads or evidence, the case had gone cold. Harry, however, was not the youngest-ever deputy Head of the Auror Department for nothing; even if it took him another twenty years, he was going to bring Scorpius’ parents’ killers to justice.

He spent another couple of hours reading back through all the case notes, adding to them where appropriate, before deciding to turn in for the night. He called for Kreacher to bring him a hot chocolate in bed, which he drank too quickly, burning his tongue on the liquid slightly. He’d felt uneasy all day, like he was close to a breakthrough. He didn’t know what it meant, but he’d learnt a long time ago to trust his instincts, and the prickling feeling of intuition was hard to ignore. Harry extinguished the lamps in his bedroom and eventually fell asleep, Draco Malfoy’s face dominating his thoughts.

****

“Uncle Ron, that was crap!”

“Teddy! Watch your language! And don’t be so rude.”

“Sorry, Uncle Harry.”

Harry supressed a grin, as he watched his eight-year-old godson pick up the bowling ball and, unlike Ron, bowl it smoothly and accurately down the lane, scoring a strike. Teddy punched the air in triumph and let out a cry of delight. Ron glared, his score of two paling into insignificance in comparison. Harry beamed proudly; surely the boy was going to make Chaser when he started Hogwarts in three years’ time.

Hermione, who was sporting a rather large pregnancy bump, waddled over to the balls and selected the lightest one, before helping her four-year-old daughter Rose bowl it down the lane. The child clapped with glee as she knocked over all the pins. Teddy laughed.

“So, after frame four, Harry’s in the lead, followed by me, then Auntie Hermione, then Scorp, Rose, then Uncle Ron in last place,” he said, glancing at the computerised scoreboard before flashing a smug grin at Ron. The redhead flushed and made to argue, but Harry touched him on his forearm.

“It’s just a game of bowling. Let it go,” he said. Ron scowled childishly but, thankfully, closed his mouth.

The game continued and, to no one’s real surprise, Harry won. Afterwards, the three children complained of being hungry, so Harry and his friends ferried them into a nearby pub which had a huge indoor play area.

After everyone had eaten, the children all ran off to play in the equipment. Harry was always nervous of situations like this; it would be so easy for Scorpius to be taken, even in the Muggle world. Harry, however, was determined not to wrap the poor boy up in cotton wool; he needed to be able to have as normal a life as possible, to enjoy his childhood, despite Harry’s desire to keep him safely behind the Fidelius Charm at Grimmauld Place. Hermione seemed to read his mind.

“I’ll go and watch him, Harry, it’s okay. Have a drink with Ron and relax for once,” she said with a supportive smile, and made her way over to the play area.

Harry watched her go, not noticing when Ron went to the bar. He started slightly when Ron returned and placed a pint of Guinness in front of him, before taking a large sip from his own.

“Get that down you, mate,” Ron said, a moustache of beer foam attaching itself to his upper lip. “And, please, stop worrying about Scorpius for two minutes. I know being in public makes you nervous, but you know Hermione won’t let anything happen to him.”

Harry took a mouthful of Guinness and sighed happily. It was dark, bitter and cold. Delicious. Wizards just didn’t know how to brew a proper stout; they were always far too sweet, and full of bubbles. Muggles really did do some things better, he mused.

“I, er, I saw Ginny yesterday,” Ron said suddenly. Harry felt his tummy give an uncomfortable flip, but he schooled his features into a neutral expression and gave a nonchalant ‘hmmm?’ in reply. Ron wasn’t fooled by either.

“How long are you two going to ignore each other for, Harry? Come on, it’s been nearly six years since you split up, and neither of you can stand to even speak to the other!”

“In case you hadn’t forgotten, Ron, I came home and caught her in bed with the Seeker from the Magpies,” Harry said icily. “Sorry if I’m not overly forgiving about that.” He saw Ron’s crestfallen face and his anger subsided. “Look, I don’t hate her. Not anymore. I was furious with her for a long time, Ron, but now I’m- I don’t know. It’s like I feel nothing for her. Not love, not hatred, not even friendship. It’s just so awkward between us, y’know?”

Ron nodded.

“I know, mate. But I just want to see you happy, you understand? Have you even been on a date since Ginny? Got yourself laid, even?”

Harry felt the blush spread to the roots of his hair. Sex had always been a topic with which he was uncomfortable, and he tried his best to avoid. Even in the Gryffindor dormitory back in his Hogwarts days, the topic had made him squirm. Inwardly he thought it was probably one of the reasons Ginny had cheated on him, as Harry simply had no interest in it. He certainly didn’t miss it. He didn’t even wank that much. He shook his head in reply to Ron’s questions.

“In six years?” Ron asked incredulously. He dropped his voice. “You’ve seriously not had sex in six fucking years? God, Harry, I’d struggle to go more than a week, I think!”

“Yes, well, I have Scorp to consider, don’t I?” Harry responded, which wasn’t a lie. A part of him was getting annoyed he was having to justify his lifestyle to his friend. “I can’t just start dating. I’ve got his safety, his welfare to consider first and foremost. What if I met someone, and they turned out to want to be with me to get to him? Short of asking that person to take Veritaserum, which would show I didn’t fully trust them and would kill anything between us, I can never know for sure. Besides, I don’t really miss it. You know, um, sex.”

“I know you love him, and he clearly love you too, Harry, but, mate, you can’t give up your entire life for him,” Ron replied reasonably. “Just go on a few dates, have a laugh, for Merlin’s sake. You know Hermione and I will look after Scorpius for you.”

“Thanks, Ron, but I really am OK at the moment,” Harry replied, the tone of his voice clearly indicating the topic was closed. Ron sighed with exasperation but didn’t push it.

They finished their pints in friendly but somewhat forced conversation. Harry was toying with the idea of another when Scorpius came running towards him in tears, with a guilty-looking Teddy behind him.

“I didn’t do it, Uncle Harry!” he said, instantly causing Harry to wonder exactly what it was Teddy had done.

“H…he p…pushed me over,” Scorpius sobbed into Harry’s shoulder, whilst Harry made soothing circles into the boy’s back with his palm. “I h…hurt my arm, look!”

He thrust a slightly reddened forearm at Harry. Harry rubbed it better whilst he chastised Teddy for playing too rough, the desire for another drink completely extinguished.

“We’d better get going, actually,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione, after checking his watch. “Andromeda is picking Teddy up at six.”

It was a pleasant evening, very warm for mid-May, and so everyone decided to walk back to Grimmauld Place. Scorpius and Teddy had made up, and were running alongside the adults with Rose, laughing and joking. Harry had not once taken his eyes off the boy, which was normal for when they were outside together. Even Muggle London wasn’t completely safe.

Hermione was holding on to Harry’s arm for support, as walking was not the easiest of tasks for her any more. Harry was happy for his best friends; he knew Hermione had been shocked when she discovered she was pregnant with Rose, as she was still forging her career in the Ministry. However once the initial surprise had worn off, both she and Ron had excitedly looked forward to parenthood. They were natural parents to their little girl and, in about six weeks’ time, they would be adding a son to their family. Harry had been named godfather to Rose and the pair had already asked him to be godfather to their new baby when he was born, whom they had decided to name Hugo.

They passed an alleyway, and saw a man asleep, curled up inside a box. Harry paid the man little regard, other than to feel a pang of sympathy that people should have to live in that manner, his attention still fully trained on Scorpius. It was perhaps twenty seconds before he realised Ron had stopped, looking like he’d just been Stupefied.

“Harry,” he called urgently. “You really, really need to come and see this. Right now.”

Puzzled, Harry let go of Hermione’s arm, who rounded up the children and gave him a quizzical look, and doubled back the few metres he’d put between them when Ron had stopped.

“Call me insane, mate, but doesn’t that really fucking look like…”

But the rest of Ron’s words thundered through Harry’s brain in a loud, incomprehensible swirl of noise as it tried to process the sight in front of him. For Harry could quite plainly see now, why Ron had stopped. The man, who, now Harry examined him closer could see, looked emaciated and half-dead, curled up and shivering despite the warm weather, was unmistakably Draco Malfoy.
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In Loco Parentis