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Hey guys. Yep, I'm back with another story: idea just popped into my head, I had to write it down. I know I should be working on my other stories, but I couldn't help myself. I had to post this one. So, hope you like it and let me know what you think.

Scorpius had always been considered a very quiet child. At the Wizarding primary school of Leavesden near Watford, the teachers had been most surprised to learn that their young student was in fact the son of the notorious former Death-Eater Draco Malfoy. Except for the physical appearance, it seemed that Scorpius had inherited none of his father's traits. He was not very talkative, didn't like to play with the other children and preferred to retreat in an empty classroom rather than to go run in the schoolyard during the ten o'clock break. Scorpius worried the school staff. He seemed to have problems with the most simplistic subjects at school. He rarely showed any sign of having magical blood in his veins, which is why most the teachers thought that Scorpius was a squib.

Every time a teacher tried to start a conversation with the young boy, they were met with an everlasting silence and a blank expression. It was as if Scorpius didn't hear them at all, just as if he was being surrounded by everything but not by the people who talked to him. When they tried to make him nod or shake his head, Scorpius wouldn't react and would avoid eye contact as much as possible. If anyone touched him in a comforting manner, Scorpius would flinch away and look at the other people with round and frightened eyes.

The boy worried the staff and one day, the headmistress decided to call Draco Malfoy for a personal meeting concerning his son Scorpius. It was when the boy's grandmother (for it was never his father who picked him up) came to school one afternoon that Mrs McClusky, the school's headmistress, confronted her in the schoolyard, asking to see the child's father.

"He's absent for the week, he's on a business trip. May I take a message for him?"

"Just make sure that as soon as he returns he comes to see me, I think we both need to have a long talk concerning our little Scorpius"

Mrs Malfoy was, in Mrs McClusky's eyes, a very beautiful and elegant lady. Her hair was always bound in a tight chignon and her clothes accentuated her thinness. Her face seemed constantly twisted with worry and her frail-looking shoulders surely had already carried more weight than a woman like her could handle. Mrs McClusky had never met Draco Malfoy in person, but she imagined him to be like his mother in this prospect: worried for his son just as much as Mrs McClusky herself, the staff and the grandmother were.

The headmistress had not been very confident concerning the coming of Draco Malfoy, but she decided not to let the stress overwhelm her and so she had waited. It had seemed almost like an eternity to wait when eventually, the week was nearing its end. It was on late Friday evening, when Mrs McClusky had lost all hope to see Draco Malfoy cross her doorstep that he appeared. Although the man was notorious for serving the Dark Lord before his death, Mrs McClusky smiled professionally at him, bidding him to sit down with a wave of her hand.

"Good evening Mr Malfoy, I was expecting you earlier. I hope your trip went well" she said, tried to lighten the tension that had settled between them two. Mr Malfoy nodded politely, taking a seat in front of the large wooden desk, passing a hand through his ruffled hair.

"My mother told me you wanted to see me because of my son. Is everything alright? Has Scorpius done something he shouldn't have?" Mrs McClusky tried to wave the matter away, acting as if the situation wasn't severe but her smile was considerably more tensed than usual. Mr Malfoy must have noticed her worries, for he frowned at her in worry.

"What happened?" he asked and Mrs McClusky thought his voice sounded incredibly calm. Waving her wand at the tea pot in the corner of the room, she looked at the man sitting in front of her. Her smile had faded and she now wore a grave expression. She knew now that if the father was worried about his son's behaviour, it meant that he knew something she and the staff did not.

"Mr Malfoy, we believe Scorpius to be a very polite and intelligent boy you should be reassured. The only thing the staff and myself find most unusual is his lack of social contacts and most of all, his difficulties to speak freely to teachers and students. You see, we have been asking ourselves for a long time if maybe… well it's not easy to…"

"I know what you're thinking" Mr Malfoy interrupted Mrs McClusky and the headmistress felt almost sad seeing the expression on the other man's face. "I know and I don't blame you for deducing this, but know that my son is a child like any other."

"I fear I do not know what you're talking about, sir" Mrs McClusky said, although she had a faint idea of what Mr Malfoy was about to tell her. She had already suspected this, but she had never dared talk about it to the other teachers. She feared that they would reject the poor child for this… unusual trait. They already didn't like having Scorpius in their class because of what happened with his father years ago. The headmistress didn't want to make the matters worse in telling them the terrible burden the poor child and parent had to bear. Mr Malfoy looked at her with sad eyes and at that precise moment, Mrs McClusky thought she had guessed right about the resemblance between him and Mrs Malfoy.

"My child is autistic, headmistress"

The news came as a shock to Mrs McClusky, as if someone had emptied a bucket of icy cold water over her. She hadn't dared believe in the prospect of young Scorpius to be autistic. Absent-mindedly, the headmistress waved her wand at the teapot in the corner of the room, which floated to her desk and poured some tea in a cup made of finest China. Mrs McClusky didn't know how to react and couldn't think of anything to say. She reckoned that 'I thought he was' was not the kind of answer Mr Malfoy would like hearing. Shakily, the elderly woman took a sip of her tea and swallowed it slowly, the silence of the room making her nervous. What was she to do now? She couldn't send Scorpius away; poor child wasn't to blame for his illness.

"This explains a lot"

"He's not a mean boy in fact he's a sweet child really. Please don't send him away you were the only school I could get him in. It's already hard enough for me to be labelled as a Death Eater I beg you, don't make my son pay the price for being different" There was no emotion in the other man's eyes and his voice was calm. Mrs McClusky couldn't help but admire the father, admiring his calm reaction and strength of will. He was ready to conceal a very important element about his son to get him into a good school. He cared for Scorpius that was a certainty.

"Mr Malfoy, do you realize how serious this is? Your child could have been a danger to his little friends"

"Friends" the other man said, an ironic smile on his lips and a bitter expression on his face as he snorted disdainfully, "what friends if I may ask, Mrs McClusky? Scorpius has no friends, who would like to befriend a… freak like they call him" The headmistress noticed that tears had welled up in the man's eyes at the mention of the word 'freak'. It must be horrible, especially for a parent, to hear his son being called a freak.

"Mr Malfoy, I won't send Scorpius away and I won't talk about this with the staff. They wouldn't react the way I would like them to and I don't blame them and I'm sure you don't either" Mr Malfoy shook his head, having regained his lost composure. Mrs McClusky took another sip of his tea without breaking eye contact.

"Your son is in good hands here. We have employed a new teacher who, according to his curriculum, has specialised in the education of children with mind diseases" Mr Malfoy flinched at the word and Mrs McClusky realized that it was certainly worse to admit that your own child had a grave handicap.

"How convenient, isn't it?" he said, his voice dripping with irony. Mrs McClusky smiled sadly at him.

"Indeed, you must have a lucky star shining over your head" She had concealed her own irony behind a smile, but Mr Malfoy wasn't stupid. His smirk was bitterer than before.

"Do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you? I always do, but for me the answer is clear: I'm paying for the mistakes I made years ago. I just thought that God would be more lenient and spare my child this horrible life" This time, Mr Malfoy didn't even bother to hide his tears as he got up and shook hands with the headmistress. Her heart clenched in her chest seeing the young father in such distress. She smiled reassuringly at him before he left, closing the door behind him. Mrs McClusky sighed, sinking back into her leathered chair.

"Goodness me I wonder if people would react differently if they knew the truth about this man" Mrs McClusky knew the answer, but she didn't lose hope that one day, people would stop being narrow-minded and would be able to forgive Draco Malfoy for his past deeds. She hoped, for Scorpius' sake.

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"Scorpius" Narcissa called for the umpteenth time, trying to catch her grandson's attention once again. Seven-year-old Scorpius didn't react and avoided eye contact with his grandmother. He stared at the wall opposite him and Narcissa sighed desperately.

"Scorpius dear, eat your mashed potatoes" It took the child a long time to react, but when his attention was eventually drawn back to his plate, Scorpius attempted to grab his fork. Narcissa smiled at her grandson, though she knew he would never smile back or acknowledge her. Even with Scorpius being different, Narcissa didn't stop loving him and she knew that her own son felt the same.

"There's a good boy, isn't it?" she coaxed, fighting the urge to brush her hand through the platinum blonde hair. Narcissa wished her grandson could have had a normal life. She wished that Astoria had not died and left her son and husband to deal with this situation alone. Narcissa believed that a sibling would do Scorpius some good, although she knew this was impossible in the meantime. Although Astoria and Draco's marriage had been arranged, the two had gotten on well and had considered each other best friends. Astoria had done her duty: she had given Draco and heir, but unfortunately, her fate had been a tragic one. She died only weeks after Scorpius' birth, too weak to go on with her life. She had been too fragile to carry children and Draco blamed himself every day of his life for her death.

"I'm home, mother" her son's voice called from the hall. Narcissa didn't move from her seat, waiting for Draco in the kitchen. After Astoria's death, Draco had decided to move to Watford because it was a peaceful and well-located place. The neighbours were nice and never asked uncomfortable questions about Scorpius' behaviour, merely believing him to be an extremely shy child. The house Draco and Narcissa had bought was not huge, but it was large enough for three people to feel comfortable. It had three storeys, one of which served Narcissa as private quarters. The kitchen was on the ground floor, opposite a spacious living room. Scorpius and Draco's room were on the first floor, as well as the bathrooms and Draco's study. Behind the house there was a small garden Narcissa liked spending time in. Sometimes, she even chatted with her neighbour, a young student in archaeology which Narcissa thought could make a perfect daughter-in-law.

"Hello" Draco greeted her, placing a kiss on her temple. Narcissa never thought her son would be so affectionate to her, but yet she once again had to remind herself that Draco was nothing like Lucius. Smiling at Draco, Narcissa stood up and took out the plate of the microwave, putting it on the table in front of her son together with a glass of red wine. Draco, as was his habit, had taken place opposite Scorpius, fondly looking at him.

"Hi there, Scorpius son" Draco said and Narcissa almost wanted to shout at him for still hoping after so many years that Scorpius would react to his voice. Scorpius' autism was detected when the child was four. Healers had only reluctantly agreed to help him, not trusting Draco because of his past as a Death-Eater. It made Narcissa's stomach churn thinking about the cruelty of people when it came to Death-Eaters. It wasn't Scorpius' fault if he was autistic, he shouldn't pay for his father's mistakes. When would people learn to open their minds?

"He hasn't eaten much since your departure" Narcissa told Draco, who had silently begun eating his meal, "you know, I think he senses when you're absent. See, before you came back he wouldn't eat and now, he has almost finished his plate" Narcissa tried to lighten up Draco's mood, although she herself didn't believe a word she was saying. Scorpius didn't even seem to recognize Draco, yet to notice his absence.

"McClusky knows" Draco said suddenly. Narcissa wasn't surprised, but the tone her son had used worried her.

"What will she do about it?" Draco shrugged his shoulders, drinking some of his wine.

"She informed me that they had recently employed a children's therapist. They think he might be able to help Scorpius" Draco took another sip of his wine and slapped the empty glass violently on the table. Scorpius jumped at the sudden noise, looking at his father fearfully.

"Pain" his high pitched voice said. Narcissa looked reproachfully at her son while Draco looked at Scorpius in confusion.

"Pain… angry"

"Scorpius son, are you hurt? You're in pain?" Draco asked, his meal forgotten. He quickly got up and went to kneel next to Scorpius' seat, looking at the child worriedly.

"Pain…angry… pain" Scorpius kept muttering the same words over and over again, making Draco feel mad with despair. If only the bloody healers would be smart enough to help his son, instead of letting his situation worsen with each passing day.

"Son, talk to me, please! I'm here, it's me, Scorpius I'm your father, I will never hurt you, please talk to me, please" Draco begged. He so badly wanted to hug Scorpius, to tell him all would be well, but he knew just how badly his son reacted to other people's touches. Frustrated, Draco excited the room, kicking the door shut violently and left Narcissa in the kitchen with the still muttering Scorpius.

"Pain… pain… help!"

Narcissa didn't know if her grandson was hurt or if he was talking of something else, but she couldn't help him. She would have to wait until the child had calmed down, for there was no way she would find out where Scorpius was hurt. He wouldn't speak, especially not to her. The only person he spoke to was Draco and even then, on rare occasions. Narcissa understood her son's reaction though; she too felt tired and hopeless. Clearing the dishes away, she looked up at the ceiling, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

"If there's truly a God up there, please help my son and grandson. Hasn't Draco paid enough for his mistakes? Don't you think you have ruined his life enough? Or do you enjoy seeing your own people suffer?" Just as Narcissa had expected it, no one answered her.

So, what do you think?

TBC…