Chapter Text
When Draco Malfoy was a child, such was his dislike of waking early in the morning, that the house elves used to squabble about whose turn it was to rouse him. When any of the elves misbehaved, his Father would grimly punish them by assigning them the duty of waking Master Draco for a week, and it was a far more effective behaviour modification than any other. However, things change as people grow older, and, despite his continued hatred of mornings, Draco was no longer the spoiled brat he’d once been, and he considered this a significant marker of his personal growth.
This morning, he was roused, not by his usual alarm spell, but by an urgent little voice in his ear saying, “Papa.” His eyes flew open, and he stared, a little blearily, at his four-year-old son.
“Scorpius, you good?”
“I’m good, Papa. The sun is awake, though.”
“So it is,” Draco agreed, stretching and giving a final longing glance at his fluffy duvet. “Shall we have pancakes for breakfast?”
“No, Papa, not hungry.”
“Well, maybe we’ll try a little something,” Draco said. This wasn’t the time to begin a battle over eating. Maybe after he wrestled Scorpius into his clothes.
With the help of Scorpius’ favourite house elf, Kattie, it wasn’t long before both Draco and Scorpius were bathed, dressed and sitting at the breakfast table. Scorpius was happily describing to Draco the eating habits of the Hungarian Horntail, his current favourite breed of Dragon.
When he paused to take a breath, Draco spotted his chance, and cut in smoothly. “So, today, Scorpius, do you remember our plans?”
Scorpius regarded him a little balefully. “Yes, Papa, we’re going to see the Vampire, and then you’ll get me a new book, but only if I’m good, and only if I don’t cry.”
Draco grinned, “I doubt that Healer Cici would appreciate being called a Vampire.”
“Well, she shouldn’t be so interested in my blood,” Scorpius replied, a little imperiously. “Can I be done?”
Draco eyed the plate. Three bites. They’d been sitting there for nearly an hour, and his birdlike child had eaten precisely three bites of his pancake. “Are you sure you can’t eat a little more?”
“I’m sure, Papa. I’ll explode.”
“Very well,” Draco sighed, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “But you’ll have to eat a little more at lunchtime today.” Scorpius eyed him with the face of a child who had no intention of eating more at lunchtime, but Draco didn’t have the ability to climb that particular mountain at present.
“Will Mama be coming to the Healer’s office?”
“Yes, she’ll meet us there.”
“Good, I don’t think she knows much about the Hungarian Horntail.” Scorpius wriggled down from his booster seat, and ran from the room to get his model Dragon.
They arrived through the Healer’s floo ten minutes early for their appointment, and Scorpius immediately made his way to the books and toys in the corner. After checking in, Draco sat in a chair nearby, and watched as his son chatted to the little girl who was there as well. “How old are you?” The little girl was eying him appraisingly.
“Four and-a-half,” Scorpius replied.
“You’re little,” she said doubtfully. “You don’t look four.” Draco stiffened, ready to intervene.
“And a half,” Scorpius corrected. “I’m little because I have Fanconi Anemia, and it means I don’t grow as quickly as other kids.”
“I don’t know what that is,” the girl replied.
“It means that my blood works funny, and so I get sick sometimes, and tired. And I have to take potions.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes, but my Papa says I’m braver than a dragon.”
Draco felt tears prickling at the back of his throat, and swallowed hard to prevent a wail from escaping. If he allowed himself to, he’d never stop crying. Fortunately, his breakdown was diverted by the arrival of his ex-wife.
“Mama!” Scorpius cried, and ran to the floo, wrapping his arms around his Mother.
“Hello darling,” Astoria said. “You good?”
“I’m good, Mama. Papa, look! Mama’s here!”
“I see,” Draco answered, rising to greet the new arrival. He placed a kiss on her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “You good, ‘Tori?”
“I’m good, Draco,” she confirmed. The question-and-answer confirmation (“You good?”, “I’m good”) had become a coping strategy that the entire family had used throughout Scorpius’ childhood. When he’d been born, so tiny and fragile, and as he’d coped with so many little illnesses and frailty, the reassurance that they were okay gave them courage. As he’d finally been diagnosed last year with the disease that threatened his life, Draco hadn’t been prepared to become an expert in rare blood disorders, hadn’t been prepared, after having feared for his life throughout his adolescence, to now know a terror so much greater.
But, when your child was being stalked by a monster, you became a monster-hunter, and you armed yourself with knowledge, and data from clinical trials, and you learned all about the Muggle world, because they’ve done so much more research on genetics and stem cells. And you learned about the internet, and you learned to rely on strangers, Muggles, that you’ve never met. And you saw your son’s healer far more often than you saw your friends or family, and you learned to mop up a nosebleed without batting an eyelash. And you learned the true meaning of mortality, when a new bruise showed up on Scorpius’ delicate little back, but you also learned to smile, and discuss dragons and to convince a stubborn four-year-old to ‘eat one bite, just one more bite, darling’. It had been eleven months since he, Scorpius and Astoria first heard the words ‘Fanconi Anemia’. Eleven short months to have the rug pulled from their feet so brutally that they still hadn’t been able to regain their footing.
Scorpius’ name was called, and Scorpius dragged his Mother by the arm as he raced through the doorway. “Dean,” he said delightedly, as the Mediwizard gave him a high five and gently placed him on the cot in an examining room. “I brung you my dragon to see!”
“Brought,” Draco corrected absently, and Scorpius rolled his eyes.
“Scorp, that’s the nicest one yet,” Dean said, and Scorpius entertained himself by flying the dragon around Dean’s head. Dean gave Draco and Astoria a friendly smile, and cast the standard diagnostics. “Okay buddy,” he said. “Time to appease the Vampire.”
Scorpius’ eyes widened. “See Papa, I told you that Cici was a Vampire,” he said, but he obediently presented an arm, and Dean quickly spelled six vials full. As he left the room, Healer Cici Clarke ducked around him as she entered it. She was in her mid-forties, and Muggleborn, with long dark hair that she wore in a braid, and sparkling blue eyes. When Scorpius had been referred to her, Draco was unsure about her objectivity (there were still Muggleborn shopkeepers in Diagon Alley that refused to serve them), but Cici had been a gift from the Gods. With joint Muggle and Wizarding degrees, she was the most knowledgable specialist available, and Draco and Astoria trusted her explicitly. More importantly, Scorpius adored her.
“Scorp, Draco, Astoria,” she said, “it’s wonderful to see you again. Scorpius, I hope you remembered to bring me the Horntail you were going to show me.”
“I did, Miss Cici!” Scorpius brandishing the dragon. After it had been thoroughly admired, she eyed him appraisingly.
“So, any nosebleeds lately?” Scorpius nodded. “Do you feel more or less tired than usual?” Scorpius shrugged. “When you’re playing with your friends, do you sometimes feel out of breath?” Another nod. “Okay, thanks for telling me that, Scorpius. Do you mind if I ask Mama and Papa some questions?” When Scorpius shook his head, she turned her attention to Draco. “Can I see his journal?” Wordlessly, he passed it over. After his diagnosis, Draco had begun to keep meticulous notes on Scorpius’ day to day occurrences…his energy levels, any illnesses, or new bruises. As the primary caregiver, it helped him keep Astoria up to date, and made conversations with Cici more valuable as well. “Lovely, thanks for that. I’m just going to pop along and see after Scorpius’ blood samples. Back in a tick.”
“Do you think she’s fixed my blood yet?” Scorpius wondered.
“I hope so,” Draco said, “but we’ll have to wait and see.” Draco’s jitteriness manifested in a bounce in his leg, until Astoria placed a gentle hand on his knee. He smiled gratefully at her. She was truly his best friend, and he was so grateful to be going through this with her.
It had been ten years ago, when Draco’s Mother had begun seeking a match for Draco, and Astoria’s parents had been seeking out a wealthy suitor for their daughter, that he’d first really gotten to know Astoria. She’d been two years behind he and her sister Daphne at school, and had been so quiet and shy then, he’d barely noticed her. Since her graduation, she had come into her own. She wanted no part of marriage. She wanted to be a lawyer, not a trophy wife who hosted dinners and served on charity boards. But, since the Greengrasses were quite poor, a law degree was unattainable. As they endured the ceremony of a ritual courtship, Draco had been nothing but honest with her.
“I’m irrevocably gay,” he’d said. “I know that my parents insist upon an heir, and I’m willing to do my duty to the family, but I won’t lie to you and tell you that we’ll have a normal marriage.”
“I’m not really interested in doing things the normal way,” she’d said, tossing her head. “I don’t mind producing one child, if that’s something that you want. I will love him or her, and I’ll be involved, but I want a career more than anything. If you want to discreetly divorce after the baby comes, I wouldn’t fight you for custody, just visitation when schedules allow.”
They’d grinned at one another, and the bargain was struck. And somehow along the way, she’d become the most important person in his life, other than Scorpius. They’d had exactly enough sex to produce Scorpius, and amicably gone their separate ways. True to her word, Astoria was a wonderful Mother, and spent as much time as she could with Scorpius. Her parents, and Draco’s Mother had been furious when they’d divorced, but there’d been no scandal, and neither Draco nor Astoria had allowed their parents to interfere. Scorpius had done a lot to offset their parents’ collective disappointment as well, he allowed.
Cici re-entered the room, and Draco couldn’t read her expression. She sat behind her desk, and opened a file. “I have Scorpius’ results. The numbers aren’t where I’d like them to be, not by a long shot.” She pointed out the comparison between Scorpius’ previous white and red blood cell counts. “His white blood count is significantly lower, which tells us that we’re entering a different stage of the disease. This means that the Androgens that we’ve been using to treat Scorpius aren’t going to help him any longer. And it explains why Scorpius is seeing more infections, bruising and nosebleeds.”
Astoria, a product of her breeding, did not outwardly react in any way, but her fingers tightened around his knee so tightly that Draco could barely keep from grimacing. “So it’s not fixed yet?” Scorpius asked.
“No, Scorpius, it’s not fixed. The only way that we currently have to fix the problem would be through a bone marrow transplant. That means, that we would find someone who has blood that would work well with yours. We would take out a bit of the inside of one of their bones, and we would put that material, called marrow, into you. This bone marrow would then help teach your blood to start producing all of the right things that your body needs.”
“How will we find someone who’s blood gets along with mine?”
“That’s a very good question, and that’s why this is a tricky bit of medicine, Scorp. The best kind of donor is usually a brother or a sister, but because you’re an only child, that makes our search a bit harder.” Cici looked to Draco and Astoria. “You know that a non-sibling donor reduces our success rate by a large margin. For right now, we will begin to use hematopoietic growth factors, which we’ve been seeing some good results from. And, the research being done on gene therapy is very promising, but the science is slower than I’d like.”
“Miss Cici? Can I go play with Dean?”
“Yes, of course you may,” Cici said. Draco helped his son down from the cot, and kissed him on top of his silky white-blond head. Scorpius rolled his eyes at Draco, and bounced out of the room, making dragon noises as he went.
Draco turned back to Astoria and Cici, and allowed himself one single moment. He closed his eyes, and placed his head in his hands, and sighed, just once. Then, he squared his shoulders and said, “Right then. Options?”
“They haven’t changed much, I’m afraid. A sibling donor would be the best option, but I’m certain that you’d have much to discuss before making a decision to have another baby. In addition, you know that the chances of your next child having the same condition are higher than in other families.”
“What if one of us had a child with someone else?” Astoria’s voice was impassive. “It takes each of us to provide the faulty genetic factors, correct?”
“Yes, both parents need to have the same genetic anomaly for this condition to exist. If either of you had a child with another parent, the risks are much lower, if that’s something that you wish to consider. But because the baby would only be a half-sibling, there’s no certainty that they’d be a match. The hematopoietic growth factors will allow us to manage Scorpius’ condition for some time, but it’s difficult to estimate how long. There’s no guarantee.”
“Anything else? Something experimental?” Draco said. He knew he was begging, but he didn’t care. He would crawl on his hands and knees across broken glass if it gave Scorpius a chance.
“There is a clinical trial using gene therapy available in the Muggle medical system. We can submit Scorpius’ case for consideration, but these cross-discipline experimental therapies require some additional approvals from the Ministry, because of the Statute of Secrecy. If he is a good candidate for the trial, we’d need the Magical-Muggle Relations Department to sign off and become involved.”
“Anything. Please have his case considered,” Draco said.
“Alright. I studied with the Doctor who’s running the trial. I can have his file and bloodwork sent over today, and get you an answer quite soon. If he’s approved, though, the process to gain Ministry approval can take quite a while. They seem to be chronically understaffed in that Department.”
“Is there anything we can do to rush it through?”
“I’m not sure. The woman who runs the Department is tough, but fair. Maybe if you made an appointment to speak with her, she’d give you an exemption. I’ll floo you tonight to let you know if Scorpius is eligible for inclusion in the trial.”
“Thank you, Cici, for everything.”
“Astoria, Draco, I know that we didn’t get the results that we were hoping for today, but please don’t lose hope. I promise you that I will pursue every opportunity to help Scorpius get better. I’m not giving up on him.”
“Either are we,” Draco said, taking Astoria’s hand and leading her to find their son.
Later that evening, Draco stood in Scorpius’ doorway, watching his son in slumber. His tiny rosebud mouth was wide open, and he was snoring deeply. Need to check that he’s not getting another sinus infection, Draco thought absently. Scorpius clutched his new book tightly in one hand. They’d made it to Flourish and Blotts to obtain his reward for his good behaviour at the Healer’s, but Scorpius had been too tired to visit any of the other shops. As Scorpius snuffled, and rolled over, the blanket slipped from his shoulders. Draco tucked him in more firmly, and smoothed the hair away from his brow, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Satisfied that he was sleeping soundly, Draco returned to the living room. Astoria was staring into the fire, a huge gin and tonic in her hand. She noticed his entry, and motioned towards his own drink. Taking a bracing gulp, Draco settled himself at her feet. “Tor,” he said.
Just saying her name opened the floodgates. Astoria’s huge blue eyes filled with tears. He knelt between her knees, and held her chin with his hand, while wiping her tears away with the other. “Dray, I’m so scared,” she wept. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Either do I,” he confessed. “I’m scared too.” He didn’t say what he was actually thinking. Draco knew that he was being punished. Punished for being a coward and a bigot, for making so many bad choices, for hurting so many people. The gods had judged him, and they were going to take the person he loved most. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“Draco Malfoy, don’t you dare start that shit again,” Astoria said fiercely. “I know what you’re thinking right now, and I won’t let you. This isn’t your fault, you’re not being punished, and our baby is not going to die.”
“Okay,” he soothed. “And you’re right, he’s going to beat this, he’s strong.” He looked closely at her. “Do you think we should have another baby?”
“Not with each other,” she said immediately. “I can’t bring another baby into this world knowing that they’d have a chance to being just as sick as Scorp. It’s not fair, to either of them.”
“Maybe we could get a surrogate?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It feels wrong, somehow, manufacturing a baby just for…spare parts.”
“Astoria!”
“I don’t mean it that way, Draco, but you have to see my point. Scorpius was so wanted. I love him so much, but something doesn’t seem right about this. And, we don’t know if a half sibling would even match Scorpius. But then I just look at his little face, and I’d do anything in the world to get him better.”
“If we had another, it’s not like we would love him any less than Scorpius.”
“I can’t make this decision right now, Draco. I need to think about it.”
“I understand, you’re right. Tor, we’re going to be okay. Scorp’s going to be okay.”
He hugged her then, tightly, and her shoulders hitched once before she buried her face into his neck. “You good, Dray?”
“I’m good Astoria.”
He escaped to the shower then, and stood under the steaming water with his head against the tile. It was there, behind a silencing charm, that he finally gave way to the the wailing, grieving animal that had taken up residence inside of him. He cried until the water went cold, and even then, as he turned off the faucet and sunk to the cool floor, his tears fell unchecked. For a single, childish moment, he longed for his father. His father, who, after finally being released from Azkaban wasn’t really himself any longer, and could certainly do nothing to help fix Draco’s child. Then, he towelled himself off, and went to check on Scorpius again.
Healer Cici’s owl arrived just before Draco was about to go to bed. He untied the parchment from the unassuming owl’s leg, and it hooted once before disappearing back out the window. The letter was short:
Dear Draco, Astoria and Scorpius,
I spoke to the Doctor who is running the gene therapy trial, and after reviewing his bloodwork, he agrees that Scorpius is a potential candidate. Once Ministry approval is granted, we can proceed with a number of follow up tests, and if the results look good, he’d be willing to include Scorpius. I’ve sent the application over to the Ministry, and now we will wait for approval.
I’m not supposed to tell you that sometimes, a personal appeal from a family member can go a long way towards swaying the Ministry’s decision. I’m certainly not telling you to make an appointment at the Department of Magical Muggle Relations to plead your case, as there are official channels that need to be observed. My official advice is to remain patient, as these cases often take time to be reviewed.
Please don’t hesitate to floo me if you have any additional questions, and I look forward to seeing the three of you in two weeks at Scorpius’ next appointment.
Regards,
Cici.
When she finished reading the parchment, Astoria looked up. “Which one of us should go?”
“Doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Draco replied. “I don’t mind.”
“You go, then. I’ll stay with Scorpius.”
And that was why, the next morning, Draco found himself in a set of carefully tailored robes, standing by the breakfast table next to a weeping Scorpius. Draco’s son almost never cried, even when being subjected to the most painful medical procedures. Today, however, his grey eyes looked at Draco pleadingly, and his bottom lip trembled.
“Darling, don’t you want to stay home with Mama?”
“I can’t,” Scorpius sobbed. “I have to go with you.”
“But the Ministry is boring, Scorpius. Mama and Kattie will make cookies with you,” Astoria said entreatingly.
“I need to go with Papa. It’s important.”
Draco knelt next to Scorpius’ chair, and carded his hand through his baby fine hair. “Can you explain why?”
“No,” he wailed. “I can’t. But I know I have to.”
“If you were to go with me, you’d have to sit quietly for a long time. It wouldn’t be very much fun at all. And we’ll need to make sure that you don’t pick up any germs along the way, so lots of cleaning spells.”
“Fine, Papa, but I know I have to go.” Scorpius’ tears were lessening, as he calculated the exact moment of Draco’s capitulation.
It wasn’t as if Draco was any good at refusing his child much of anything, anyway. “Very well. Kattie, can you please prepare Scorpius for an outing?”
The Department of Magical-Muggle Relations was located on the fifth floor of the Ministry. Scorpius looked wide-eyed at the memos swooping through the corridors as he clung to Draco’s hand and skipped along beside him. The door to the Department Head was guarded by a stern looking older woman who peered over her glasses at the two of them. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m afraid we don’t,” Draco said. “We were only made aware of the need for a discussion with the Head yesterday evening, so there wasn’t time to make one. I understand that she is likely very busy, and I hate to presume, but the matter is time-sensitive. Is there a possibility to make any time in the Head’s schedule today?”
The woman clicked her tongue at him, and examined the diary in front of her. "I could make fifteen minutes available at 11:00 sharp,” she said, a little grudgingly. “But then she has an appointment with the Minister, so that’s the best I could do.”
“Thank you,” Draco said fervently. “We’ll just come back then. Scorpius, let’s go down to the canteen and-”
“What’s your name?” Scorpius asked the lady behind the desk.
She chuckled. “My name is Margaret Nott. And you, young man?”
“My name is Scorpius Amicus Greengrass-Malfoy. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nott.” he replied. Draco tensed. The Malfoy name had recovered some since their disgrace, but Draco still feared that someone would shun his child for the misdeeds of his ancestors. The Notts hadn’t been convicted as Death Eaters, but they were Slytherins, he remembered, his mental calculus suggesting that this could go in any direction.
To his relief, Mrs. Nott chuckled. “Your name is quite a bit bigger than you are, lad. We’ll see you at 11:00. Do you think that you could do something for me in the meantime?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“So polite,” she said approvingly. “Your Father said that you were going to the canteen. Do you think that you could eat five bites of whatever he puts in front of you?”
“I’m not really hungry,” Scorpius said doubtfully.
“Oh, I know, but I would be so pleased if you tried.”
“Alright,” he agreed. Draco gave her a grateful glance and she winked.
They returned at 10:50 promptly, Scorpius carefully carrying a brown paper bag, while Draco followed with a cup of tea. “Mrs. Nott,” Scorpius said excitedly. “I brought you a present! And I ate six bites!”
“How wonderful!” Mrs. Nott exclaimed. “Thank you, Scorpius.” Scorp grinned and presented her with the muffin he’d selected as though it were precious jewelry. “Have a seat then, darling, Ms. Weasley-Granger will see you in just a moment.”
Draco tensed. He hadn’t seen or spoken to any of the members of the golden trio in years. He and Granger (Weasley-Granger, his mind corrected) had reached a point where they could politely interact in those strange years after the trials, but then…later, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her. His mind started to go down the rabbit hole, remembering the past, and the things that Draco resolutely did not think about ever, but the sound of a door opening jarred him from his mind’s efforts to self-destruct, and he took Scorpius’ hand and looked up.
“Draco?” Hermione Weasley-Granger was standing in the doorway to her office. “Come on through.”
“Thank you,” Draco replied politely, and gave Mrs. Nott a grateful smile on his way past her desk.
Scorpius was eying Hermione curiously, and she gave him a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Hermione. Would you like to sit down?” He nodded, and clambered up into one of the desk chairs. Draco noticed with a little pang that he was still too small to comfortably sit in a chair. His feet barely reached the edge of the seat. Draco sat in the chair beside him and ruffled his hair.
“Mrs. Weasley-Granger,” Draco said, his smile feeling tight around the edges, “thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”
“Draco,” she replied, her tone a little chiding, but her smile remaining warm. “I think we’re long past the ‘Malfoy and Granger’ phase, don’t you?”
He flushed. “I just didn’t want to presume.”
“It’s fine, honestly. I haven’t met your companion though.”
“Hermione, I’d like you to meet Scorpius, my son.”
She looked at him delightedly. “Hi Scorpius. I bet that lots of people tell you that you look like your daddy.”
He nodded. “I tell them that Papa looks like me.”
Hermione and Draco exchanged amused little smiles, and Draco thought, anything. I’ll do anything to keep this glorious child alive. Whatever it takes.
“I know that you’re busy, Hermione, and I won’t keep you long. I was just hoping that I could draw your attention to Scorpius’ application to participate in a Muggle clinical trial. His Healer tells us that all such things need to be approved by this Department.” He passed a file folder across the desk, and Hermione flipped it open. She scanned the contents quickly, and bit her lip as she read.
Finally, she looked up. “I’m not that familiar with Fanconi Anemia. It’s clearly a blood-based illness.”
“My blood has broken parts, and so it doesn’t make the right colours.” Scorpius was pleased to add to the conversation.
“Ah, I see. Does that mean that you feel tired a lot?”
“Sometimes. And I get nosebleeds. Papa says they’re disgusting.” Scorpius grinned.
“I only say that when you refuse to use a handkerchief,” Draco protested.
“Draco, obviously, we want to help anyone who’s living with a medical condition get access to the right healthcare for them. I’d really like to do some research, and discuss things a little further with you. Could you meet me for lunch tomorrow?” Hermione’s brown eyes met his, and he saw a flash of empathy.
“I can’t do tomorrow,” Scorpius said. “Mama’s taking me to the zoo.”
Hermione laughed out loud. “That’s a shame, Scorpius. We’ll miss having you. Perhaps your Papa and I could meet tomorrow, and then we’ll see you another time.”
“I suppose,” Scorpius said, and his imperious little chin made Draco weak-kneed, so much did he adore this child.
The restaurant that Hermione chose was Wizard, but Draco was grateful to see her sitting in a secluded booth near the back. He slid into the bench seat across from her and returned her smile a bit tentatively. So much rode on this, and Draco had never been good at playing nice. There was so much history between this Draco and woman and her two friends, and it set Draco on edge.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he began.
She waved a hand cheerfully. “I have to eat anyhow, and Ron will be pleased to hear I’ve left the office for a change.” Her smile dimmed a little. “Draco, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am to hear of Scorpius’ illness. It must be so difficult for you all.”
“Thank you,” Draco said, taking a sip of water. “We’ve been managing, since the diagnosis. Scorpius is…well, you’ve met him.”
“He’s a delight. His healer must love him. How old is he?”
“Four,” Draco said. “And a half.”
She grinned, “The half is very important. My daughter gets quite offended when we forget to add it.”
“Ah, so it was a girl?” Hermione had been heavily pregnant the last time he’d seen her.
“Yes. Rose. We have a son as well, Hugo.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Ron’s over the moon.”
“I’m glad you’re doing well, Hermione.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Do you ever-” he began, and then stopped abruptly. He didn’t want to know. She looked at him expectantly, but he just smiled, and took another sip of his water. The waiter arrived, and they placed their orders, leaving them to stare at one another awkwardly.
Hermione moved things along. “I must confess that I’ve never met anyone with Scorpius’ condition before. Is it quite rare?”
Draco nodded. “Almost unheard of in Magical people. Quite rare amongst Muggles as well.”
“And it’s genetic in nature?”
“Yes,” Draco said, a little bitterly. “Passed down because Astoria and I both share a genetic anomaly. Ironic, really, that for all my Father’s muttering about breeding, I fathered a child with a Pureblooded witch, and we’re still managing to kill him.”
Hermione’s eyes softened in the corners, but she didn’t respond, other than to say, “And his condition has worsened?”
“Yes. The therapy that has been treating him to this point is no longer effective. There is another treatment that we’re exploring, but it won’t cure him.”
The waiter returned with their food, and, as they started eating, Hermione asked, “Is the condition curable?”
Draco nodded. “Mostly, yes. There are some treatments that will effectively teach Scorpius’ blood to create the proper proportion of blood cells, and that will greatly extend his life expectancy.”
“So why are you exploring a clinical trial? As I understand it, Muggle-based treatments don’t always produce expected results in magical patients. Are the other treatment options unsuited to Scorpius?”
“In a sense. The best treatment available is a bone marrow transplant, but finding a donor is quite difficult. The odds are increased significantly when a sibling donor exists, but Scorpius is an only child, and we’re grappling with the ethics of having another child, since that wasn’t part of our plans before all of this.”
Hermione suddenly dropped her fork. Her eyes grew wide for a split second, before she said, “Would you excuse me for a moment?” She raced away from the table and Draco stared after her. She was back within minutes, but her cheeks were pink with colour, and her forehead was wrinkled, as though she was thinking hard.
As manners dictated, Draco didn’t say anything about her abrupt departure, but after a few moments of awkward silence, Draco said, “So do you think that you’ll be able to approve Scorpius’ application?”
“I believe so, yes. The approval process is a two-stage one. If you receive first stage approval, I’ll meet with the Muggle Doctor who is leading the trial, and, if the meeting goes well, you can proceed with all of the testing required to ensure that Scorpius is a good candidate. After that’s taken place, we can grant stage two approval, which will allow us to create the necessary agreements. The Doctor will need to have his knowledge of the Magical world obliviated when the trial is completed, and he’ll need to agree to that. He’ll also need to agree to share his results with our teams at St. Mungo’s. The approval process isn’t a quick one, I’m afraid, but I’ll do everything I can to fast-track it.”
Draco felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Tears swam in his eyes for a moment before he blinked them away, and said, “Hermione, thank you. Truly. I owe you a great debt.”
“Don’t be silly, Draco, I’d never stand in the way of a child getting needed medical treatment.”
“I know that, but you had no obligation to prioritize anyone in my family. Especially after…”
Her smile was inordinately sad. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt him, Draco. It wasn’t your fault, what happened.”
“It was,” he replied simply. After all these years, his guilt and sorrow hadn’t fully abated. It sat in his belly like a stone. At times, he could forget about it, but, on days like these, when he was reminded of what he’d done, what he’d lost, it was heavy and foreign. He’d tried so hard to avoid asking, but, unable to resist, he finally said, “Do you speak to him, ever?”
Her face further clouded. “No,” she said bleakly. “Not once, not in over ten years.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never thought that he’d…”
“He’s stubborn,” she said, with forced lightness. “Always has been.”