Title: Losing Rin

Author: Tsubasa Kya

Disclaimer: I make no profit off this work. If I did, you would not be reading it here.

Chapter 8

Harry Potter. Savior of the Wizarding World. The Greatest Baby Ever Born. The Chosen One. The Prophet. The Child God. The God Child.

Draco could stare colder at the man if he wanted to. He really could. He leaned back in his desk chair, watching as Potter stormed around their shared office space, knocking over this thing or that, huffing and hissing and raging over whatever had set him off.

Crossing one leg over the other, Draco folded his hands on his stomach and waited for what he knew would come; The Accusation. It was right on schedule. Exactly six minutes and thirty-two seconds later (Draco once made a game of timing each of "The Accusations" and found with some surprise that Potter had consistently made "the Accusation" always six minutes and thirty-two seconds after he stormed into the office) Potter whirled on Draco with angry eyes.

"You've gone too far, Malfoy! Give it back to me!" Bang on cue.

Draco had long ago learned not to give in and argue, because it generally ended in a duel, a ruined office, and a hospital trip in either of their cases. There was even a betting pool around the office when their arguments escalated on which of them would end up hospitalized. While one of them was hospitalized, the other generally ended up on temporary suspension, although Potter got suspension with pay since he had an "in" with the department head (Bloody Gryffindors!), and Draco did not. Draco couldn't afford that time off he would get while suspended. It would mean he'd have to be home more often. With his wife. Damn.

"Malfoy!" Potter hissed.

"Bloody hell, Potter," Draco said, "how often have you accused me of stealing from you, and how often are you proved—thoroughly—that I didn't touch whatever you think I have taken?"

Potter seemed to think about this and by the annoyance that burned in his eyes, he seemed to realize Draco was right. Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held at avoiding the potential for spending more time at home. Yes, he loved his son Scorpius, but if not seeing his son often meant he didn't see his wife or his mother often, well… he'd take the hit.

As Potter went back to scouring the room, Draco decided it would probably be beneficial to go home. He hadn't been home for almost three days; he slept at his desk.

Getting to his feet, Draco began collecting together a handful of paperwork he could use as an excuse later to steal himself away into his study. Basically, if the papers looked important, it went into his briefcase—provided they didn't contain classified information, of course. It really wouldn't do to give Weasley another reason to sack him.

"Where're you going?" Potter demanded. Draco had the sudden curious thought of, Have I learned Parseltongue? It certainly seemed possible, with the amount of hissing Potter was doing that evening.

"Would it matter if I told you or not?" Draco asked, "You'll still scamper after me like I'm out plotting to be the next Dark Lord."

"For the last time! I wasn't following you!"

"No, you just happened to rather coincidentally show up in the same place I did ten times in one day. Ten to one odds are fairly condemning, Potter." Draco snapped. Okay, so he was just a little irritated.

The situation was simple. Four days prior, Weasley ordered Draco to take a day's vacation (Draco was thoroughly opposed to this idea but in a boss-versus-minion standpoint, the opposition was moot). During Draco's twenty-four hour forced vacation, Draco went home and got his son Scorpius. They went to Dur Waffle Haus, a German waffle house. That was shortly after six in the morning. Sure, he was aware that waking a four-year-old up at quarter-to-six in the morning was not generally done. It simply wasn't done.

But Draco did a lot of things that just weren't done. Scorpius was a good boy provided he wasn't anywhere near his mother… He'd been an angel all day. When Potter showed up at the waffle house, Scorpius had ever-so-casually dropped a glop of butter on the floor. Potter was furious when he ended up on his back beside their booth. Draco knew what happened (and praised his son when out of earshot of Potter) but pretended he didn't and just kept reading the morning paper.

Then, later that day Potter shows up when Draco was in Madam Malkin's purchasing robes for Scorpius. That was a pure disaster although his son was not at fault for what occurred. If Potter hadn't tripped, then that stand of mirrors wouldn't have been broken.

Potter showed up when Draco was in the pet shop looking at the 'Strange and Unusual' creatures with Scorpius (they bought a magic scorpion, but Scorpius seemed to get it in his head that the creature wanted to play fetch with Draco's wedding ring—coincidentally, that was also how he lost his wedding ring though he didn't recall giving Scorpius the ring, or when this occurred).

The day continued, with Potter showing up everywhere Draco did. When confronted after the sixth occurrence, Potter claimed, "I'm just running errands."

When it happened for the seventh time, Potter had rolled his eyes in disgust and said, "Maybe it's fate." He'd turned away and Draco swore he heard the muttered words, "She does love to pull my strings, doesn't she?"

After the eighth time at a diner, Draco called it quits and went home. He was there for—maybe—an hour before he had to leave or risk hexing his mother's lips right off her face. Granted, that would have been nice… He just couldn't afford New Azkaban.

He'd left the house and gone to the Three Broomsticks. That was, of course, the nice thing about living in Hogsmeade; the Three Broomsticks was always warm, cozy, and full of firewhiskey.

He was there no longer than it took to order one drink before who should walk into the place but Harry—Effing—Potter! Draco was pissed. Three stools down the bar. Potter sat there, ordered a Bloody Butterbeer like he was on a stakeout! Well, Draco wasn't about to stand for it, so he drowned miserably in several mugs of firewhiskey strong enough to eat through the mug itself, and when he was stone drunk and Madam Rosemerta wouldn't serve him anymore and took his wand—they were like muggle keys—(it happened every Tuesday—both he and the Madam were used to the routine) he decided he was going to tell off Ronald Weasley for forcing him into vacation.

So, Draco stormed off to Weasley's house. The problem? It was a simple task of figuring out left and right, which Draco could not do whilst drunk off his ass. He wandered the village looking for Weasley's house, sure it was somewhere in the vicinity…

Eventually he managed to find his house and he knew Weasley lived to the left of him, and Potter was on the right. He was sandwiched between Gryffindors, and lived with the Europe's Most Annoying Witches; now if that wasn't the pits, he didn't know what was.

So he stormed up to Weasley's place, and who should answer the door but the Bleeding Savior! So, what, did Potty suddenly know him enough to know where he was going to be at all times? Oh that just pissed him off! That somehow Potter knew he was going to be going to Weasley's…

"Condemning?" Potter hissed, his eyes flashing like a snake's just before the strike. "I always eat breakfast at Dur Waffle Haus with the boys before I take them to Mrs. Weasley's."

"Yeah? What about the rest of the day?"

"I was doing my job!"

"Uh huh. Right." Draco was not convinced.

"I. Was. Doing. My. Job!"

"That so? Prove it."

"Madam Malkin's had a break-in, I was following up. After that, the ministry received intel on a stolen pet of an important Egyptian priest who had been in England. The Egyptian priest had a fondness for scorpions; I'm sure you'll recall the incredibly dangerous magical creature you bought in the pet shop? Yeah, that was pawned off. Bloody hell, Malfoy, you bought your son a deadly scorpion! Isn't he only three?" Potter shouted, his hands moving wildly to demonstrate his points.

"He's four!" Draco found his hackles rising. "And how was I supposed to know the thing was that bloody dangerous?"

"You should've recognized it! The memo went out to the entire office to be on the lookout for the thing, and the photo showed very distinctive markings!"

"So you had a reason to be in the pet shop. Big deal. That doesn't cut you off the rest of the day! You were still following me as if I was up to something!"

"You had just bought the priest's scorpion, and it was my job to get it back, but when I caught up to you a half an hour later, you didn't have the scorpion and I got wind of something more pressing: a man was found dead in an alleyway."

Potter was going to get hexed, Draco swore it. "Oh, and you're just assuming I did it? Newsflash, I was with Scorpius all day! He's a handful; I didn't have time for any dastardly deeds, alright?"

"I never said that!" Potter yelled. If anyone in the ministry didn't know they were fighting before, they knew now. "That scorpion you bought was toxic, and it stung a man."

"Bloody hell, and you're blaming me? Blame the fucking thief that stole it and sold it to the pet shop, damn it!"

Potter was slightly taken aback by that, and he winced and explained, "Well, as it turned out, the man who died was the thief." He shook himself and continued, "But that's not my point! I wasn't following you; I just ended up running left and right trying to figure out why the man was dead and after that I had to catch the scorpion before it could do anyone else harm!"

"What about at the diner? You sure didn't look like you were chasing after a scorpion there."

"I'm sorry if after a long day of hell I might want to go get some food at the closest establishment! For the love of Merlin, I wasn't following you!"

"Then how the hell do you explain the Three Broomsticks? You just happen to show up there, I don't think so!"

"I was on a stake-out watching Morris Pen, after Lee Jordan informed me someone was stealing from the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and selling the products black market."

"GUYS!" Ronald Weasley's shout practically shattered the faux window. Both men turned to Weasley with equally disgruntled expressions on their faces. "Minister Shacklebolt wants to see you. Now. Both of you."

Draco stormed past Ron, feeling as if he had a dark storm cloud hovering over his head. He watched in satisfaction as other Aurors—even the older, more experienced ones—shifted out of the way. He made it to the elevator and started slamming his finger against the lift call button.

As Potter reached him, he said, "Once is enough. It won't come any faster!"

Draco really couldn't help himself; he turned around and swung his arm, knocking Potter in the chin hard enough to crack his lip. Potter then wasted no time to tackle Draco and soon enough they were rolling on the floor trying to beat each other senseless.

Aurors came from all over the room, pulling the two apart, taking their wands, and at last peace and order was restored. Not that they had been trying to use their wands… but they were still removed.

Ding. The lift had arrived…

"You want to talk about following, how about you tell me why the fuck you'd show up at my house piss-drunk?"

"God damn it, Harry! Every time you two fight, I get my arse chewed!" Weasley snapped. "Go the fuck home, both of you! Dean, Seamus, go see the minister and let him know you're taking Harry and Malfoy's place on assignment."

Draco was very angry at the moment, and really wanted to hex something, but since that always got him in trouble he had to resort to simply yanking himself free of captivity, snatching his wand back, and stepping onto the lift. His eyes met Potter's in a terrible clash of blue and green, and then the lift doors had closed.

When he got home, he was met with a maddening surprise. His good friend Blaise Zabini was banging his wife senseless against the kitchen counter. Pansy didn't even notice she'd been caught in her infidelity. Draco made a bee-line for his son's room, finding the boy hiding in a corner with his hands over his ears, crying and trying to block out the noises of the screams from the kitchen.

Gathering Scorpius in his arms, Draco sat on the tiny toddler bed to comfort his son. He wasn't as mad as he could be, he supposed. This simply gave him the nerve to do what he'd wanted to for years. He had Scorpius, who he wanted, and could find reason to get rid of Pansy who he didn't want. And while he was at it, he was just going to get rid of his mother too.

He brushed Scorpius's black locks out of his face. He didn't care that Scorpius had the same color hair as Pansy—it didn't mean he saw Pansy every time he saw his son. Apart from the hair, Scorpius was a miniature Draco; he had the high cheekbones, the strong, angled chin, the sharp nose, and most importantly he had Draco's glacier blue eyes.

As he rubbed Scorpius's back, his son cried, "Owie, daddy!"

Curious why such a small action would hurt, Draco shifted Scorpius in his arms and started to lift the back of Scorpius's shirt. The boy reacted badly and kicked and struggled to get away. "Daddy not seeing!" Draco was so surprised he let his son run across the room and hide in the closet.

The behavior was like nothing Draco had ever seen in his son and it both scared and angered him. Draco shifted across the room and knelt down to look at his son in the back of the closet. Scorpius had a nest built in there of at least a dozen pillows and sheets. So that's where all of his linens were disappearing… He thought the maid was stealing them. Well, maybe he should apologize for firing her...

Draco couldn't help but feel impressed in spite of himself. Scorpius had quite the neat little fort going on in the back of his giant closet. "Scorpius, please let daddy see… if you have an owie, daddy can fix it…"

"Daddy not love me." Scorpius said miserably, his words punctuated with sobs that tore at Draco's insides. "Mummy said so."

"Mummy's a lying, cheating whore," Draco forced his voice to stay even. He would not take his temper out on his son—ever. "Mummy's going to go far away, and from now on, it'll just be daddy and Scorpius."

Scorpius poked a hopeful head out of his fort. "Just daddy and me?" Draco nodded and watched his pride and joy crawl out. Scorpius wrapped his arms around Draco's neck. "Ice cream," he demanded, and Draco smiled, lifting the boy up.

"Ice cream," he agreed indulgently. "And you know, I think Madame Rosemerta has Butterbeer Floats for good boys, and you are a good boy." He was spoiling his son, but he hardly cared. Especially now. Scorpius deserved to be spoiled. He felt some of his tension lift as his boy giggled, but he'd have to find out what sores were on Scorpius's back later on…

They left the house out the back door because Draco didn't want to walk by the kitchen door with Pansy and Blaise still quite loudly going at each other.

Hermione Weasley-Granger (bloody mudblood) was outside her house with her daughter Fredella and Potter's three kids; she was eight-and-a-half months pregnant now, if he remembered her due-date right (Weasley had been bragging at the office some time ago). Fredella saw Scorpius and shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Skorpus!"

"Freddie!" Scorpius cried out and wiggled out of Draco's arms. Scorpius ran straight into the Weasley's backyard, greeting Harry's children with a certain amount of familiarity that Draco just wasn't sure he was comfortable with. Still, he allowed it and crossed the invisible boundary between their yards.

"What's so hard about the name, 'Scorpius'?" Draco demanded of the mudblood, standing next to her picnic table.

Granger grinned at him. "She's four, Malfoy. She's going to mess things up." She called out, "Teddy, not so close to the grill!"

"Aww, but Auntie, I want to roast my marshmallows!" the boy complained.

"You can do that just as well from a distance. That's why you have sticks." Granger said unrelentingly.

Draco's eyes were pinned on his son. "Mind if I sit?" he asked Granger. He could get along with people when it served a purpose to him… And it always served a purpose with this woman. If he wasn't reasonably companionable, Weasley found a reason to suspend Draco from work.

"Sure." She said, "Be my guest." She twirled her wand and a glass appeared on the table, full of yellow liquid. "Lemonade?"

"No, thank you. Have you heard anything… odd… going on at my house lately?" He asked her. He supposed out of all his neighbors, he could get on with Granger the best, in spite of her… blood. She, at least, was an intelligent sort of conversation.

"No, why?"

"Oh, uh, no reason." Draco wasn't about to admit to his neighboring Gryffindor that someone had been hurting his son. She'd probably think it was him, accuse him of it immediately, and get his son taken away from him even as she got Draco put into lock up in New Azkaban.

"Aren't you usually at work now?" Hermione asked, glancing at him in curiosity.

Draco nodded. "I'm on FTO," he told her.

"FTO? What's that?"

"Forced time off," Draco said. "Because Potter threw a temper tantrum." He got to his feet as Hermione's jaw dropped, and her brows knit together. She was about to object to her friend throwing a tantrum, but Draco interrupted her, calling out to his son. "Scorpius," he said, "come."

Draco watched his son scamper toward him, but only seconds later he was distracted by the fact that Ronald Weasley was back from work early.

"Good. Just the person I need to talk to." Ron grumbled.

Draco's first thought was, "I didn't do whatever you're going to accuse me of doing. I went from the ministry to my front door step to my son's room and I've been right here for the past—"

Ron rolled his eyes at Draco. "I'm not here to accuse you of anything. I'm here to tell you that Minister Shacklebolt and I decided you can either take time off for two weeks voluntarily, or you can clear out your office and find another job."

Draco pursed his lips. "Excuse me?"

"Here's two tickets to travel using the International Port Key. Find a baby sitter for Scorpius and take your wife to France for the time, or something. We're getting sick of you constantly starting things with Harry. You two need to put aside the school boy rivalry and start working together, rather than arguing." Ron said, holding out an envelope to Draco.

"We do work together." Draco argued, but he scowled and took the envelope when he noticed the light in Ron's eyes was one of 'your job is on the line here'. Draco scooped up his son. "Fine. I'll go. But I won't go with Pansy." He'd take his son instead, and he could use that time to think about what to do about Pansy.

…Framing her for something and getting her arrested sounded like a fantastic idea at the moment…

"However you do it," Ron said, "you'd best take that port key tomorrow. And if you're back before two weeks, well… don't bother coming in to work. The port keys are being monitored, Malfoy."

"You're doing an awful lot to keep me out of the country. Planning a surprise party?" Draco lifted a brow, but then he turned away. He didn't particularly care if Ron was done with him now or not, because he was really annoyed and he just wanted to get away from the other guy. How dare they force him on vacation? He didn't want to go…

Draco took his son to the Three Broomsticks for Butterbeer Floats and sandwiches. After that he took his son home, gave him a bath, and found out just how bad his son's back was. It was no wonder his son had cried when he touched his back. Some of the welts were actually broken skin, and they looked red and infected. It was just as well that Pansy wasn't at home. He might have killed her. Especially listening to his most precious boy crying and screaming just at having the injuries washed…

He called on the Malfoy family medi-wizard, ordering the old goat out of bed and to his house. When the man arrived and inspected the injuries on his boy, he confirmed they were infected. He had to sit there, clenching his fists as his child screamed over the treatment process. Draco knew it wasn't pleasant having had to sit through such a treatment dozens of times his own self.

With an antibiotic cream smeared over Scorpius's back, the boy even cried in his sleep when he finally managed to nod off. He heard Pansy return late, and he could tell she was drunk by the noises and stumbling she was making. As she walked by Scorpius's room and heard him crying, she stormed in.

"You fucking brat, stop making that no—"

She noticed Draco sitting in a plush chair beside his son's toddler bed and trailed off.

Draco felt his gut roiling with hatred and anger. He twirled his wand in his fingers, and watched as her eyes drew to the movement of his wand, filling with fear. Oh, good, she remembered what his temper had been like in Hogwart's, down in Slytherin house.

"Hello. Pansy." He said in a low voice.

"Draco!" she looked uneasy and was probably trying to sober herself up in a hurry. "What are you doing here?" she was still being very loud. Scorpius was stirring.

"I decided to go on vacation to France." He said. There was no reason at all to insinuate that he was being forced on the vacation. Her eyes lit up at the idea of going to France. But he had no qualms shooting her down. "I came home to your infidelity. On my kitchen counter. With my best friend."

"Draco, what are you saying? You must have been dreaming." She insisted.

"Was I dreaming when I found my son had been abused?" he inquired, lifting himself out of the chair.

"You were! You were!" she agreed.

"Then what are these injuries?" he pointed to the little boy in the bed. Scorpius was on his stomach, his back uncovered. Draco had to sit beside the child to keep him on his stomach so that the cream wouldn't rub off.

"Well, if he weren't such a god-damn brat, he wouldn't need to be punished," she snapped at last.

"A brat? Punished?" Draco found himself sneering. "He's a good boy! And he's the sweetest child ever, it's a wonder how he came from you!" Draco was angry—angrier than he'd ever been in his entire life. He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of the room.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was punishing a child for making noise. Children were born making noise. In fact, Scorpius had made more noise the minute he came out of Pansy than any other time in his little life. It was as if he was complaining, 'Oh gawd, daddy, what the hell type of monster did you give me for a mother – get me away from her!' The minute Scorpius was handed to Draco, the boy instantly quieted and that was the happiest moment in Draco's life… the moment he got his son.

Pansy slapped Draco. He was so startled he let her go and put his hand to his cheek. He couldn't believe she'd actually hit him. Him. An Auror of the Ministry of Magic.

Draco felt anger beginning to boil inside him. She had a cold look on her face. She didn't even regret it. He supposed the most frightening thing of it was the fact that she looked like him. She looked like he used to feel.

He remembered years ago, when Harry-bleeding-savior-Potter had been there to use Sectumsempra on Draco in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Draco wasn't really certain why the memory was in his mind, but as Draco fell to the ground he recalled the look of terror and surprise in Potter's eyes.

Maybe he was recalling that day because that was a look that Pansy didn't have on her face. She looked coolly at him, and with hatred in her eyes.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore, Draco." She spat at him. "Look at how weak you've become! Ha! As if anyone would want a pathetic wreck like you anymore. You used to be a great guy, with potential to go wherever you wanted!"

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" he hissed. "Quit yelling, or you'll wake Scorpius!" He wanted his son to stay sleeping, so he was trying to keep his own voice down as well… but that was easier said than done.

"You're a Malfoy, Draco! Except now you've gone soft. You're simpering to the Ministry. You're cowering at the feet of blood traitors and mudbloods! Oh, how low you've sunk, Drakie." She tsked, her eyes burning with a dark rage.

"Soft?" he sneered at the woman. How dare she accuse him of going soft? How dare she accuse him of… well, maybe it wasn't as much an accusation as it was the truth… damn it all, he sort of had been taken by the ministry. He wasn't getting promoted, but at least he wasn't a bloody house elf working for table scraps, and at least he wasn't in jail or dead!

"Yeah, Drakie. Soft. You'll bend over and lick the shit off Weasley's boots, won't you?"

Her words infuriated him, and he grabbed her by the collar of her robes, shoving her against the hallway wall with enough jolt that her little witches' cap fell to the floor. "What did you just say to me, you lying, cheating whore?" he demanded.

Fear shot through her eyes for only a second, but then she stubbornly raised her chin up high and sneered, "Do you enjoy bending over the desk for Potter?"

"EXCUSE ME?" How the hell could she even say that? He hated Potter more than anything. And for her to even suggest that… that… oh hell no! He was a Malfoy, proud and true. And no Malfoy would ever even consider such a vile act. So, perhaps he was a bit homophobic, but what person…

"Spending a lot of time at the office, dear Drakie!" she said. "You disgust me!"

Not only that, but he would never be unfaithful to his marriage. Since she had been unfaithful to him, it would give Draco a reason to divorce her. Getting a divorce was simply something Purebloods did not do. But, well… he'd just have to add another tally to the things that Purebloods didn't do, but Draco Malfoy did.

"I disgust you? You beat my son!"

"That wretch isn't your son! HA!" she laughed and he thought she sounded a bit mad. Not angry-mad… more insane than anything. Ha, telling him Scorpius wasn't his son... how low had she fallen? Seriously. Did she expect him to believe that?

His eyes darted toward the door to Scorpius's bedroom. He wanted to reach out and hit this bloody woman for the suggestion and it took all of his will power to keep from doing just that. Draco wasn't a perfect man. Wait – yes, he was. Whatever he did was the right thing, regardless of the popular opinion of him. He was a pureblood and a Malfoy. He upheld high standards.

What he wasn't, was his father.

But he just couldn't hold himself back enough. He shoved Pansy toward the door. "Get out." He said it in such a cold voice, he scared himself. She looked terrified. "Get out, and don't you fucking dare to come back. If I see you again, I swear by Merlin I will rip your heart out!"

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her to the door. Draco was seething, and just glad to have been able to get rid of her. He'd call the locksmith and have him change the locks when he got back from this forced vacation to France.

The next morning, Draco felt exhausted from a long night sitting at his son's bedside. Once Scorpius was awake, Draco went over everything he'd packed for their trip and gave his tiny tot a smile.

"You ready, son?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat at the word 'son'. What if Scorpius wasn't his? He'd been trying to shake that thought since Pansy put it in his head. She was just trying to get inside his head. She was drunk; Draco didn't hold much stock in the words of a drunk… but that 'what if' was buzzing around his head like an annoying fly quick enough to avoid a swatting spell.

"Where are we going, daddy?" Scorpius asked, his blue eyes enormous at the prospect of leaving the house two days in a row. "Are we going to stay at Madame Rosemerta's?"

"Not today. We're going a little farther than that today."

After his best friend decided to have an affair with Draco's own wife, Draco's opinion quickly became 'to hell with the plants' so he didn't bother to arrange for a house sitter. He didn't have any house elves anymore. He felt they'd become disgruntled and dishonest, untrustworthy after hearing about Dobby betraying his family to Potter.

With Scorpius, Draco couldn't apparate out of Hogsmeade to London. He had to use the public floo in the three broomsticks, and that was difficult. Flooing was disorienting enough, but add a squirming young boy, a suitcase, and a fireplace that just never seemed to be large enough and Draco was recalling why he hated floo to begin with. It was so very undignified.

Taking the port key once he got to the Department of International Travel was even harder with an excitable four year old who didn't want to focus on a single thing for more than two seconds. He had Scorpius hold the cup, put his hand over Scorpius's tiny hands, and had to make a giant effort to hold the suitcase and balance the child on his hip all at once.

When he got to the other side, he ended up dropping the suitcase on his foot, and getting clocked in the face by the port key that his son held. He could taste the blood from where his tooth cut into his lip.

"Welcome to France!" the travel woman at the desk greeted them with a smile on her face. She spoke French, which was no surprise for Draco, but Scorpius didn't understand it.

"Daddy, that lady is talking funny…" Scorpius said.

"Good day to you both," she then said in English. "Will you be staying in one of our international port-key travel ready hotels?" she took Draco's paperwork when he managed to fish it out of his pocket and limp over with it, his son, and his suitcase.

"No, thank you. My return is paid for, and I'll be using this location to return." He would have likely preferred to return in the port key hotel, but the ministry was paying for his vacation. They already had a hotel reserved for him… some place called La Ruse.

"And what will your purpose in France be?"

"Family vacation." Draco said, feeling a rather dry expression on his face. What the hell did she expect him to say? 'I'm here to begin a reign of terror the likes of which you've never seen any Dark Lord accomplish.' Yeah, whatever…

"How long will you be here?"

"Two weeks, if you'll care to read the paperwork." So maybe insulting the clerk was not the best idea. Her smile had changed into a narrowed, irritated expression.

The clerk stamped his paperwork and then Draco was finally on his way. He supposed he could have set his son down and let Scorpius walk on his own, eased pressure on his foot – which felt broken – but he chose not to.

As he walked out of the French Ministry's Department of International Travel, he wasn't quite sure why, but his eyes were drawn to a man with the whitest teeth Draco had ever seen in his life. They were so white, Draco almost wished he had sunglasses to cut the glare.

Scorpius shouted out as he pointed to the man, "SPARKLES!"

Cheeks pink with embarrassment at his son's outburst, Draco ignored the few people staring at him. He was better than them, so it didn't matter.

"Daddy, did you see that alien?" Scorpius asked.

Draco looked at his son in complete confusion. All he could think about was, 'what the hell is an alien?' But this was his son… and Scorpius was a child. And of course, Draco's life simply wasn't complete unless he'd done everything he could to spoil Scorpius. So regardless to the fact that he had no idea what magical creature Scorpius thought he'd seen, Draco nodded his head.

"Of course. That's what eyes are for, right?" he asked. He glanced at a nearby newspaper an older man sat on a bench reading in the Ministry lobby. He ought to get one soon… It might have local events in it that he could take Scorpius to – like book reading at the library or some silly little activity his son would enjoy but would haunt Draco for the rest of his life, maybe something to do with clowns and balloon spells… He caught a glimpse of a picture on the cover, what looked to be an Asian woman next to a table of a few children.

Scorpius grinned widely. "Yup!"

What he said next caused Draco's attention to be pulled away from the newspaper, but on second thought… he was the dad here… he was sure he could come up with non-traumatizing activities to do over the next few weeks. He didn't need a newspaper.

Scorpius said, "We're not freaky four eyes like Harry-bleeding-Potter!"

"You're right, son. He is a freak of nature."

"I should have known it was wrong of me to think you of all people might take a vacation from being an asshole." Draco froze at the voice of the one and only Harry Potter behind him.

Then, he glanced back at Harry with severely narrowed eyes. He was about to accuse Harry of stalking him, but then he noticed the tiny awe struck tots around Harry. Okay, so that was a bit odd… it was such a wide, huge world, and miraculously Harry chose to go to the same place on vacation that Draco did. However, thankfully Paris was a big enough place that Draco likely wouldn't see him ever again the entire vacation.

"You should know you're always wrong and stop wasting time." Draco snarked.

Scorpius nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Don't think, Harry Potter!"

Harry looked frustrated as Draco smiled at his son. He was such an angel. His little boy was pointing at Harry with a finger coated in saliva… unfortunately, Draco hadn't yet been able to get his son to kick the habit of finger sucking. "I don't know why you're here, Potter… I don't care why you picked Paris of all places to come… but you stay away from me and my son. I swear… if I see even a hair of your presence, I'll hex you to kingdom come!"

Draco turned and swept away with as much dignity as he could with a sore toe (thanks a lot, suitcase).

Harry called after him, "Yeah, well it isn't like I want to see you on my vacation either, you rat faced asshole!"

Draco tried to ignore him. But then his son so innocently asked, "Daddy, what's a 'rat faced asshole' and why are you one?" Draco flinched. Add that to his long list of reasons to hate Harry Potter.

"Harry Potter is just saying mean things because he knows we're better than him and there's nothing he can do about it." Draco explained to his son. Whew. That was a pretty smooth explanation.

"Why?" Draco winced again. Great. Stupid bloody Potter got his son onto the 'why' questions. It would take him forever to get his son to stop asking 'why' to everything. It was a single word question that could never be satisfactorily answered. And children could spend days on it. They practically fed on the word, like it was something with substance that could sustain their vitals for months on end. Not that he wanted anyone to think of his son as 'ordinary' or 'common' but Scorpius liked to ask that question too.

And it killed him… every… time…

Draco was the sort of man who obeyed his child's whims rather than sensibility half the time. Any normal person who just portkey'd to another country might not want to carry two suitcases and a young boy around Paris looking for that place to eat that would satisfy a child of four years.

Draco was considerably not ordinary. He was a Malfoy, so he was clearly extraordinary. And his son's tummy was more important than the fact that he disliked walking through muggle streets. At least he managed to land himself at a little wizard patronized café, even if the view out the window wasn't that great (was that a muggle food place? It looked more like a zoo with unruly children everywhere!).

He looked curiously at the tables and benches. They were all shaped like flowers and flower petals. The older woman who ran the place approached him with a bright smile. She spoke French, greeting him and asking if she could get him a drink while he looked over the menu.

Draco replied, "Water and a glass of black tea for myself, and sweet buttermilk for my son."

"Sweet buttermilk?" she asked curiously.

He sighed, "Just milk for him." They didn't have sweet buttermilk? What kind of place were they running anyhow?

"I'll bring those out in a few moments." She promised him.

He noticed the high traffic in this place, and the huge wait for his drinks alone. Scorpius wanted every single item on the menu explained thoroughly before he decided he didn't want any of it, he just wanted a melted cheese sandwich. After the woman came back, Draco placed his order and asked about his son's request (which wasn't so much a request, as she damn well better manage a simple melted cheese sandwich – did she know who she was dealing with?).

"Of course I can do that." She smiled at Scorpius. "Would you like some potato skins with that?"

Draco's son made a face. "Yuck!"

"He'll take them," Draco said, as punishment for his son saying such a muggle word. Draco needed to move away from Hogsmeade. Living next to Granger was doing Scorpius no favors.

Draco asked then, "You seem to be rather short handed. Why is that?"

"Oh this? This is just a handful of gawkers wanting to see where the crazy girl was all the time." She huffed, displaying her disgust.

"Crazy girl?"

"Poor woman. I had no idea she had escaped from an asylum! And kidnapped three children too! I had been letting her work here, no questions asked. Well, I'll not do that again, that's for sure." The woman said and bustled off to fetch their food.

Draco thought about that but was forced to put all thoughts to the back of his mind when Scorpius sloshed milk on himself – and then wiped his face on his sleeve?

Draco was already half way to selling his house, and he wasn't even back from forced vacation yet!

After lunch, he was able to take his son back to the ministry paid for hotel and get the key to it. The clerk looked at him in confusion as he took the key. "Going to be a bit crowded, won't it?"

"It's a hotel room; I never assumed it would be as spacious as I'd like." Draco retorted. It wasn't until he went up to the room and found Potter already there with his kids bouncing on the bed that he realized his error.

"FUCK." He growled.

Potter stood there, staring at him with a child's shirt half to being tucked away in a drawer. Then he looked annoyed. "Breaking into my hotel room already? Most wait until I've gone to do that."

"You've got it wr"—Draco was cut off by a squeal.

His son.

"Harry Potter, you are a naughty boy! Daddy's gonna spank you for being in our room!" Scorpius screeched.

Harry turned bright red. Draco felt awkward.

"There's a misunderstanding with the hotel," Potter said, as if that wasn't obvious.

Well, they all went down to get it straightened out. Draco even got snarky and demanded to speak with the hotel manager. There was no mistake. The ministry official they spoke to who arranged things, a one Ronald Weasley, told them they were to share a two double bed hotel room with an additional pull out bed.

Stubbornly, Draco looked at Harry. "Well, I see an obvious solution. You get yourself a different room."

"Hey, I'm not swapping rooms; you swap!"

They argued like this for a good ten minutes before coming to the conclusion that neither would switch. So they ran with their kids back up the stairs, shoving to be the first as the kids complained. They both made it to the door. They both shoved and pushed to not let the other enter. In the end, they both ended up in the hotel room, their children wandering to bounce on the beds as they panted by the door and glared at each other.

This wasn't over. Oh no, this war was just beginning.

END CHAPTER.