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In Loco Parentis	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16793 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Three: The Trigger

Three weeks had passed since Harry and Ron had discovered Malfoy alive and brought him to Grimmauld Place. Draco had mainly recovered physically, though he remained quite weak, and he still had no memory from any time before or during his kidnapping. Harry had taken the decision to keep Draco’s existence from Scorpius for the time being; to find out your dad isn’t actually dead is shocking and confusing enough, Harry reasoned, without the added complication that he would actually have no idea who you are. He didn’t want Scorpius any more upset and confounded than he was going to be already.

Harry had visited Malfoy Manor the day following Healer Morgan’s diagnosis with Kingsley and Ron to retrieve a number of artefacts belonging to Draco, in an attempt to help him regain his memories. The Malfoy signet ring he’d warn as a teenager, a music box that played a lullaby sung in his mother’s voice, a photo of the Slytherin Quidditch team in which he was the Seeker, and the dress robes he had worn at his wedding were amongst the more personal items that now adorned Draco’s room. He had looked at each item with curiosity, particularly the music box, yet his face had shown no trace of recognition or emotion at the sight of anything. Harry kept reminding himself that Draco had suffered immensely and it was going to take a long time for him to recover fully. However he couldn’t help but wish for a quick return of Draco’s memories; keeping him hidden from Scorpius was proving a strain, not to mention the guilt Harry felt at withholding the information from the boy.

The end of May approached. Kingsley had granted Harry an extended period of paid leave from the Aurors, giving him assignments he could complete at home for the time being, in light of his unique situation. And, until that afternoon on the last Friday in May, everything was working out relatively well. Harry knew he should have realised it was all too good to last.

He had told Draco not to wander around the house between the hours of seven in the morning and seven at night, but to remain on the third floor, which had a small library as well as a large bathroom in addition to the small en-suite in his room that Draco could use. Harry had made that point absolutely crystal clear. Yet Draco had, on that one idiotic occasion, chosen to ignore him. The wards surrounding the third floor staircase that informed Harry if the man tried to come downstairs vibrated, and Harry leapt to his feet, flinging the case notes he was reading through onto his desk and darting out of his study. He was too late. There, walking down the stairs and heading for the ground floor was the figure of Draco. And standing in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at the figure with wide eyes, was Scorpius. His bottom lip trembled as he looked at Harry in confusion.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, taking in a few calming breaths. Shit.

“Scorp, can you stay in your room for a few minutes please? I promise I’ll be up again in just a minute,” Harry said, his voice filled with a false calmness he certainly didn’t feel. “I won’t be long,” he said again, this time more sternly, when Scorpius didn’t move. Scorpius didn’t say anything but turned and entered his room. Harry noticed the boy’s face was white.

“Oh God,” Harry muttered to himself, as he went down the stairs to see why the man had taken to wandering around outside of his allowed hours. He found Draco in the kitchen obviously trying to make a hot drink but having no clue how to heat the water.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Draco?” Harry yelled, causing Draco to start, spilling water from the saucepan in his hand all over the stove he couldn’t light. Harry saw his face was pale and frightened, but he took no notice. “It’s five in the afternoon. You’re supposed to be on the third floor. I’ve told you you’re not a prisoner here, you’re a houseguest until you’re well again, but for reasons I cannot explain to you yet, you must not come downstairs until seven in the evening. If you need anything you’re to call for Kreacher. What are you doing?”

“I…” Draco’s voice trembled. “I just wanted a coffee. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and Harry’s anger instantly dissolved. It wasn’t really Draco’s fault. He sighed deeply.

“Okay. Just, please, in future, call for Kreacher if you need anything,” he replied, his voice softer. He reached out an arm and patted Draco’s shoulder lightly. Go back up. I’ll have Kreacher bring you a cup of coffee upstairs.” He gave Draco a weak smile. “I’ll even get him to throw in a packet of chocolate biscuits for you.”

He followed Draco out of the room and up the flight of stairs, then turned left on the landing and opened Scorpius’ door. He felt a small stab in his chest when he saw the boy curled up on his bed, looking upset. Harry crossed the room in a heartbeat, and threw up a Locking Charm on the door. He scooped Scorpius into his arms and held him tightly.

“Who was that man, Harry?” he asked in a tiny voice. Harry noticed Scorpius’ eyes were fixed on the photograph of Draco and Annalisa with a newborn Scorpius curled fast asleep in his proud father’s arms that took pride of place on his bedside table. He’d clearly noticed that the man on the stairs bore more than just a resemblance to his supposedly-dead father. Harry realised his own hands were shaking slightly.

“Scorp, do you remember the day after your birthday? When we went bowling?” Scorpius nodded his head. “Well, on the way home your uncle Ron and I found, um, something, didn’t we, and Auntie Hermione took you back to her house for a bit. Well, we found something really, really special. We found your daddy. Scorp, that man you saw on the stairs earlier is your daddy. He’s been living here.”

“But you said Daddy was dead, and that once someone is dead they can never come back,” Scorpius whispered. He screwed his eyes tight and his bottom lip trembled.

“We thought he was, Scorp. He’d been missing for so long, and no one knew where he was, or had heard anything from him. I promise you no one lied to you about that. He’s been very poorly so we brought him here to get better,” Harry said. He heard a loud sniff, and then the front of his t-shirt became damp with Scorpius’ confused tears. “Oh, Scorp, please don’t. Please don’t cry,” he soothed, as he rocked the boy in his arms.

“Doesn’t Daddy want to see me? Is that why you hid him from me? Doesn’t he love me anymore?” Scorpius asked, and Harry felt his heart break a little.

“Your daddy loves you very, very much,” Harry replied, his voice thick with emotion. “But the bad men who took your mummy and daddy did some very cruel things to him. He can’t remember things at the moment, Scorp. He’s forgotten who I am, who Auntie Hermione and Uncle Ron are, and he’s even forgotten about you. But the Healer says he’ll remember again one day. I wanted to keep him a secret until I knew he’d remember you, as when he gets his memories back he’s going to want you so much.”

“Why doesn’t he have any memories at the moment, Harry?” Scorpius asked.

“You know when you fall over and hurt your knee, your body needs time to heal?” Harry said, thinking up the analogy on his feet and hoping Scorpius would understand it. “It takes time for the skin to knit back together and for it to become the same as it was before. This is what’s happened to your daddy’s mind. His mind is hurt at the moment, and it will take time for it to knit back together how it was before. We don’t know how long it’ll take, Scorp, but I promise you that your daddy wants you and loves you with all his heart.”

“Will my mummy come back too, like Daddy did?” Scorpius asked hopefully. Harry felt a very unpleasant dropping in his stomach. Annalisa Malfoy’s badly decomposed body was delivered to the Ministry three years ago and there was no doubt at all she was dead. How was he going to explain this in an appropriate way to a five-year-old child?

“No, Scorpius. I’m very sorry, but we know your mummy died. We, um, we know where she is. Do you remember that time in February on her birthday when we went to France and put flowers on her grave? That’s where your mummy is, Scorp.”

Scorpius’ bottom lip wobbled violently before he gave in and began to cry in earnest. Sobs shook his tiny body.

“I… I don’t u…understand, H…Harry,” he wailed. Harry kissed the top of Scorpius’ head.

“I don’t either to be honest, Scorpius,” he replied.

****

It had taken well over an hour, four stories and a mild Calming Draught that Hermione had brewed specifically for young children before Scorpius fell into an uneasy sleep at around seven that evening. He’d refused the supper that Kreacher had served him in his room, and refused to let go of Harry. Once Scorpius was asleep, Harry set a charm around his bed that would let him know if Scorpius stirred, and placed a large, squashy plush dragon under his sleeping arm. He always knew that conversation was going to be one of the most difficult he’d ever had, and he felt completely and utterly drained because of it.

He entered his kitchen, where Kreacher served him supper. Harry picked at his food, not really tasting what he was eating.

After his meagre supper, he went into Draco’s room to talk with him, which he had been doing every night since Draco had recovered enough to talk. Harry had worked out that Draco had been living rough in London for about six months, if the time from what Draco could remember was when he did indeed end up on the streets. This meant he had been imprisoned for over four years.

Harry visited Draco’s room to discuss the past, as he hoped that, combined with being surrounded by his possessions, would help his memory more than it would if they sat in the living room. Draco had been astounded to learn he was a wizard, and that magic existed, despite the evidence of it he had seen since his arrival in the house, including his own terrifying Apparition with Harry.

“So, that’s Crabbe there, and that one is Goyle?” Draco questioned, as he studied the Slytherin team photo. “And they were my friends?” Harry nodded, choosing not to mention how Crabbe had nearly managed to kill both him and Draco, and killed himself in the process. “And who’s that boy here?”

That’s Adrian Pucey. He played Chaser,” Harry said, then flushed. “The Gryffindor team used to nickname him ‘Pussy’. It was Oliver Wood, our captain, who started that one, after Pucey called him a ‘Scottish pug-faced bastard’ after he saved one of Pucey’s shots.”

Draco began to laugh. It was the first time Harry had heard him do so since his arrival and the sound was almost alien coming from such a sad figure. However Harry couldn’t help but notice it transformed Draco’s face and temporarily removed the lines of stress from his features. It made Harry chuckle too.

“And what about you, Harry? Did we get on at school?” Draco asked, and Harry instantly sobered.

“Um, not exactly, no,” he replied sheepishly, and began to explain his and Draco’s rivalry to him.

“He actually turned me into a fucking ferret?” Draco probed an hour or so later, and Harry couldn’t help but marvel in the look on Draco’s face. It was arrogant, indignant, and so… Draco. It gave Harry hope. He was praying he could be the trigger, the catalyst, to help Draco regain his memories.

“Yep. An amazing, bouncing ferret,” Harry responded, deadpanned. “It was your own fault for trying to hex me whilst my back was turned. Of course, that was nothing compared to how Ron and I, and a few of Ron’s siblings, left you on the Hogwarts Express after you insulted us on the journey home after our fifth year. ‘Slug’ is perhaps the best description I can give.”

“And I can really do this, Harry? This magic that you talk about? It’s not a joke?” Draco asked. Harry could see the hope flickering behind his eyes.

“No joke, Draco,” he said seriously. Suddenly he had an idea. He pulled out his wand and offered it to Draco, who stared at the length of holly in awe. “Go on, take it.” Draco reached out his hand and grasped the wand in his fingers. “What would you like to do?”

“Um, can I lift that cup off the nightstand?” Draco asked, his voice full of doubt. Harry laughed.

“You certainly can,” he replied. “Hold the wand like this, then with a swish and flick movement- yes, exactly like that- you have to say, ‘Wingardium Leviosa’. And make sure you make the ‘gar’ of Wingardium nice and long. Go on, try it.”

Draco pointed Harry’s wand at the cup. “Wingardium Leviosa!” he said clearly and, to his utter astonishment, the cup floated gracefully into the air. He was so shocked he dropped the wand, causing the cup to fall to the ground and shatter. Harry grinned.

“That was great, Draco. You can do that, and so, so much more,” Harry said encouragingly as he took his wand back, cast a quick Reparo at the broken cup and pocketed his wand. “And soon, when you’re better, you’ll be back to hexing my arse off for your own amusement in no time, I’m sure.” He checked his watch. “Ah, it’s nearly two. We’d better get some sleep. Goodnight, Ferret.”

“Fuck off, Harry,” Draco replied good-naturedly. “And sorry again, about earlier. When I went downstairs.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said stiffly, as he opened the door, and thinking that, actually, it was anything but fine. “See you tomorrow.” He crossed the hallway, descended to the first floor where his and Scorpius’ bedrooms were located, and entered his room. He’d have to tell Draco about Scorpius. Soon. Yes, definitely soon. But not quite yet.

****

The following morning brought some unexpected but certainly happy news. Ron’s Jack Russell terrier Patronus bounded into the living room, its tail wagging, and Ron’s voice spoke out clearly,

“Mate, I’m a dad again! Hugo was born at twenty-past four this morning. Mum and baby are both doing well. We’re coming home this afternoon, and Hugo wants to meet his godfather!”

Harry beamed at his friends’ wonderful news, and quickly sent his own Patronus back with his congratulations to the pair, and confirmation he would visit later. The baby hadn’t been due for another three weeks, but it was typical of Hermione, Harry mused with a wry smile. She was always in such a hurry to get things done.

At four that afternoon, Harry informed Draco he was going out for a couple of hours and Draco had access to the house. He Flooed with Scorpius to Andromeda’s to collect his godson Teddy, then Flooed to Ron and Hermione’s cottage in Ottery St Catchpole.

He stepped out of the Floo with the children and into a sea of Weasleys. Ron smiled broadly as Harry shook his hand in congratulations, before being accosted by Mrs Weasley and scooped into an awkward hug. He said a quick hello to the rest of the Weasley clan whilst Scorpius and Teddy disappeared to play with Rose, and George and Angelina’s three-year-old son Fred, and Bill and Fleur’s daughter Victoire. He even managed a polite ‘hello’ to Ginny, before turning quickly away from her. Finally he spotted Hermione, curled up in a fluffy dressing-gown and pyjamas on the sofa, a small bundle of blankets cradled in her arms. He leant down and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“He’s beautiful, Hermione. Just like his mum,” Harry said, staring at the tiny baby swaddled in a blue shawl. She smiled and yawned as she handed Hugo to Harry for his first cuddle.

“Tell Ron to perfect the art of masturbation,” she said, her eyes closed but a wry smile on her lips. “Because if he comes anywhere near me ever again, I’ll castrate him.” Harry spluttered, and gazed down at the small bundle with fiery red hair in the blankets.

Ten minutes later, Rose burst into the living room.

“Muuuuuuuuum,” she yelled, in that bossy voice small girls possess, “Scorpius is telling lies.”

“I am NOT!” came Scorpius’ angry retort, as he chased his honorary cousin into the room. “My daddy really is in my house with me and Harry!”

The room fell silent, and every adult turned to stare at Harry, who felt himself pale. He answered their unasked question with a nod of the head, and instantly Ron began ushering his surprised family towards to Floo. Finally, and after a lot of protesting, he’d managed to convince them all to leave. As soon as Percy’s body disappeared from the fireplace, he shut off his Floo.

“Scorpius is not telling lies,” Hermione said to her daughter sternly. “His daddy is living with Uncle Harry and him. Now go back and play, the grown-ups need to talk.”

“Bugger. I didn’t think to tell him not to tell anyone,” Harry said softly, once the children had returned upstairs.

“I’m surprised he knows, Harry! Weren’t you dead-set against telling him?” Ron asked.

“Scorpius spotted Draco as the git decided to take a walk through the house outside of his allowed hours,” Harry replied. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his right hand. “I pretty much told him everything last night. He’s hurt and confused and doesn’t understand why his daddy can’t see him yet. In other words, it’s all a total cock-up.”

“Well, I think it’s a good thing,” Hermione said, as she retrieved a fussing Hugo from Harry’s arms and began to feed him. Harry averted his eyes, his cheeks flaming. She tutted at Harry’s embarrassment and continued to feed her baby. “You know you couldn’t keep it a secret forever, Harry.”

“Draco doesn’t know yet,” Harry replied, causing both Ron and Hermione to gasp. “Look, what’s the point in telling him? It’s not as if he’s going to recognise Scorpius, is it?”

“You know why,” Ron said. “If anything is likely to be the trigger, to help Malfoy get his memories back, it’s going to be his son.”

“Maybe not,” Harry retorted. “Maybe I can be the trigger. You know I’ve filled his room with memorabilia from Malfoy Manor. I’m talking to him every night about the wizarding world and Hogwarts, and last night I even got him to perform some magic. Just a simple Levitation Charm but he managed it. If I can get through to him, without having to involve Scorpius, then I will.”

He saw Ron and Hermione exchange a knowing glance and felt his temper began to rise. He forced it back down, unwilling to have an argument with his friends on the day they became parents for the second time.

“Harry, now, don’t take this the wrong way, but Ron and I both know you’re worried that if Draco regains his memory, he’s going to want to reclaim custody of Scorpius,” Hermione said, in a slightly high-pitched voice that Harry knew meant she was nervous. “You do want Draco to get better, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Harry spat. “How can you even think that? No matter what my personal worries are, I’m hardly going to be so selfish as to deliberately try and sabotage his recovery, am I?”

His friends looked suitably reprimanded, Harry was pleased to note. New baby or not, he wasn’t going to take that from them. “The only reason I’ve not introduced Scorpius yet is in case it doesn’t work. Do you know what that will do to Scorp? It’ll destroy him.”

“We’re sorry, mate,” Ron said. “But you know that, when Malfoy does get his memory back, he won’t take Scorpius away from you. You’ve had him for years, Harry. You’re the only family he’s ever known.”

A lump formed in Harry’s throat. He swallowed it down quickly.

“I’m sorry this came up this afternoon,” he said thickly. “It wasn’t the right time for this discussion at all. I should have realised Scorpius would say something. I’ll leave you both to rest now.” He said his goodbyes, collected the boys from upstairs and, after returning Teddy to his grandmother’s, Flooed home.

****

Draco put down his copy of David Copperfield as Harry entered his room. The Black library had a surprisingly large collection of classical Muggle literature in addition to its various wizarding tomes. Harry smiled at him and handed him a heavy box, wrapped in silver wrapping paper.

“Happy twenty-sixth birthday, Draco,” Harry said. It was a week since his visit to Ron and Hermione’s home and he’d decided it was finally time to tell him the truth.

“It’s my birthday?” Draco replied, surprised. Harry simply nodded. Draco tore open the paper to reveal a large album, with the words, ‘Scorpius, aged two to five’ written on the front. Draco turned the cover curiously, and Harry heard his breath hitch.

“Harry, this boy…” Draco began, his voice full of wonder as he fingered a large portrait of Scorpius as a toddler, his chubby face laughing and trying to get away as Harry pointed the camera at him. “He looks just like me.”

Harry sat on the edge of the sofa Draco was seated in, and folded his hands in his lap.

“Draco, that boy is called Scorpius. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.” He saw Draco jump at the mention of the surname. “He’s your son, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes widened in pure shock, as he continued to trace the images on the photograph, so like his own, with an index finger. “I have a son?” he whispered hoarsely. Harry nodded.

“And, Draco, that’s not all. He lives here, with me. He’s the reason you’ve only had limited access to the house. He’s been through a lot in his short life and I couldn’t risk upsetting him further. Do you remember what Healer Morgan said, about a trigger?” Draco nodded. “I hoped I would be able to trigger your memories for you. You and I have… well, a volatile history. I hoped your feelings towards me would be enough. But they’re not. I think Scorpius might be able to help.”

“Does he know about me?” Draco’s voice was shaky. Harry confirmed he did. “When can I see him?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on the pictures. This time it was of a four-year-old Scorpius covered in chocolate.

“This morning, if you like. Why don’t you join us downstairs for breakfast?” Harry suggested. Draco beamed.

“I’d like that,” he said.

****

Harry had Kreacher prepare a special breakfast of tropical fruits and pastries that he knew both generations of the Malfoys enjoyed, as well as a pot of freshly-brewed coffee and orange juice. He had told Scorpius that Draco would be joining them for breakfast that morning, and the boy had not been able to contain his excitement. Harry had reminded him that, although Draco now knew who Scorpius was, he still didn’t remember him.

Draco entered the room, dressed in a black t-shirt which revealed the faded Dark Mark, and a pair of blue denim jeans. He stopped dead when he saw his son.

“Um, hello, Scorpius,” he said uncertainly. Scorpius stood up and hurtled towards Draco, throwing his arms around Draco’s waist. Draco was startled for only a second before hugging the boy back just as tightly, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to Harry, who could only nod his head in acknowledgement. He thought if he spoke now he was sure to cry.

Breakfast was a roaring success. Scorpius talked continuously and needed to be reminded to eat as well as chat, telling Draco all about his life with Harry and the stories Harry told him about Draco. Halfway through the meal he disappeared to his room, bringing back the photo of him with both his parents. As Draco looked at it, Harry was certain he saw a flicker of recognition cross his features. He’d briefly told Draco what had happened to Scorpius’ mother, but this was the first time Draco had looked truly saddened by the mention of her.

Afterwards, as Kreacher cleared the kitchen and Scorpius entered his room to begin his morning study, Draco caught up to Harry in the hallway.

“I’ve not thanked you yet for looking after my son, Harry,” Draco said. “He’s a remarkable young man, and I couldn’t have done a finer job bringing him up myself if none of this happened. I, er, I just wanted you to know that.” Draco’s voice broke on the final word and he disappeared quickly back to his own quarters, making it plain he desired to be alone, leaving Harry stunned on the landing.

****

It was another week before anything significant happened. Harry had noticed that Draco was far more positive after his initial meeting with Scorpius, which had only grown with each subsequent contact. It seemed to have fuelled him with a renewed determination. But it was seven days after the breakfast meeting that saw a dramatic breakthrough in Draco’s memory-loss.

Harry had just finished putting Scorpius to bed, when he heard crying coming from Draco’s room. Draco hadn’t left the room all day, and Kreacher had said he’d been refusing meals. Harry tentatively knocked on the door, and opened it a fraction when he received no answer. Draco was lying on the bed, curled up on his side, his knees drawn up to his chest. The photo album Harry had given him for his birthday was lying open next to him. Harry noticed his face was ashen, and tears were dripping from his nose.

“Oh, Harry,” Draco sobbed. He stood off the bed and walked towards Harry, as Harry made his way to him, too. To Harry’s utter surprise, Draco clasped him in a massive hug.

“They told me they’d killed him,” Draco sobbed into Harry’s shoulder. “I thought my son was dead. They said his throat had been slit after they cast the Killing Curse on my mother.”

The revelation that Draco remembered something left Harry gobsmacked. He stared at Draco with questioning eyes.

“Yes, Potter, I’ve got my memories back,” Draco replied. “And now I fucking know why my mind was hiding them from me. How am I ever going to even begin to get over this? My mother, Annalisa… It’s all my fault.” He began to weep again.

“Bits and pieces started to come back after breakfast last week,” Draco said in raspy breaths. “You were right. Scorpius was the trigger. I needed to remember him more than I needed to forget everything that happened, I think. However everything was fuzzy, like waking up from a dream. But this morning I woke up with a whole head of crystal-clear memories that I don’t fucking want. And I don’t quite know what to do.”

Harry crossed the room to Draco’s shelf where his prescription potions were kept, and withdrew a small phial of Calming Draught. Draco uncorked the flask and downed its contents in one.

“They said that to try and break you,” Harry said, as soon as the Draught had kicked in. “Your mother died protecting Scorpius. She managed to hold the attackers off long enough for the Aurors to arrive, and then the attackers fled before they got a chance to get to him. She died a complete and utter hero. They told you they got him to taunt you further. I promise that’s him, Draco. He came to live with me as there were no family, and this house is under the Fidelius Charm. He’s completely safe here, as I’m the only Secret Keeper now. He’s had a good, happy life, Draco. He’s not suffered.”

“And Annalisa? What happened to her remains?” Draco asked. Harry grimaced.

“Her body was delivered to the Ministry on the second anniversary of your kidnapping. She was buried next to her parents in Rouen. We took her home, Draco.”

There was a long pause where Draco did nothing except stare at the photo album again. Harry was thankful for the Calming Draught Draco had taken.

“I understand if you can’t talk about this yet,” Harry said, “but I’m the Auror leading the kidnapping case. And I’ll confess, we have nothing to go on. Anything you can give me will be useful, Draco. Your wife’s killers deserve a lifetime stretch in Azkaban for this, and I intend to make sure they go there.”

Draco walked back over to his bed and sat down, his head in his hands. Eventually he looked up and gestured for Harry to join him.

“You’d better sit down, Harry. This is going to take a while.”
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In Loco Parentis