Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy came charging into the Hogwarts grounds, looking fiercer than Harry had ever seen him. His cloak billowed out behind him, and his hair was secured in his usual ponytail, although Harry noticed it looked far more hastily tied than usual.
He had been summoned from Malfoy Manor mere minutes ago, by the sudden (and rather shocking) arrival of Ginny Potter's horse Patronus. It had spoken with her voice and informed, him, terribly, that his son was missing.
Draco had jumped out of bed in an instant, dressed, and used the Floo Network to reach Hogwarts castle. He was shocked not to have been greeted by Professor McGonagall in her office, but rather by an over-enthusiastic house-elf who had directed him to the Potters. The elf had originally asked him politely to stay where he was and wait for the Headmistress, but Draco refused. He would not sit and wait while his only son was missing.
“What do you mean gone?” Draco demanded by way of greeting as he reached the Potters, who were standing together, but looked, oddly, like they weren't speaking.
Harry gave a pained look.
“How have they gone?”
“We don’t know, Draco,” Ginny said with forced calm. “But there’s no proof they’re in danger. We just thought it best to contact you.”
“Yes,” Draco nodded. “I expect that was your idea?”
Ginny gave a conflicted look. Draco understood that perfectly.
“I appreciate that. Unlike some people I would be there for my son at the drop of a wizard’s hat.”
That remark was quite clearly aimed at Harry, who shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Draco - that’s really not-“
“Have you checked it thoroughly? The school,” Draco asked Ginny, interrupting her.
“McGonagall is on it as we speak.”
“The secret passages? The moving rooms?”
“Professor McGonagall knows the school better than anyone alive,” Ginny said, peaceably.
Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but then nodded his head at the good sense.
“Well, if McGonagall is checking the school, I’ll do the grounds-“
“Draco-“
But Draco was in no mood to be pacified. He glanced at Harry for the first time, narrowing his eyes at the man’s sweaty hair, shifty expression, and general scruffiness.
“Potter, you need to check by the lake. I’ll go towards the greenhouses.”
Draco turned to Ginny, unwilling to give her an order.
“I’ll go and help McGonagall,” Ginny agreed. “We can cover more ground that way. We’ll wake the other professors if we have to.”
Draco nodded at her with respect. Harry looked at Ginny pleadingly, not wanting to be left alone with a furious and protective Draco Malfoy, but she refused to meet his eyes and marched off with great purpose.
“The lake, Potter!” Draco said sharply, only just stopping short of snapping his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “And if you find my son then let him know I am here.”
“Meet you back here?” Harry asked, weakly.
“Yes. We’ll do a full loop. Come on.”
Draco stalked off in the direction of the greenhouses, wand held before him. Never in his life had Harry felt like such a failure of a parent. If Draco Malfoy was charging about looking tired but desperate, giving out directions, then what was he, Harry, playing at? Standing about worrying wasn’t going to solve anything.
Harry began to trudge towards the lake. He moved more slowly than Draco had, but it was not for lack of urgency. Harry had an exceptional talent for spotting things that other people missed. It had first become apparent in his appointment as Gryffindor Seeker, and then again in his profession as an Auror. There was no way he'd miss anything as long as he kept his mind on the task.
He thought about his son. If Albus didn’t want to be found, then his hunt would prove fruitless, no matter how desperately Harry wished to locate him. Albus was a cunning boy, absolutely the most shrewd of his three children, and if this was some sort of punishment or way of getting his own back for being told off earlier, then there was nothing to be done but wait for Albus to reveal himself again.
That was assuming Albus had gone willingly…
Harry pushed the thought away, grimacing as he did so. Scorpius was missing too. Perhaps if Albus had been alone, it would have seemed more likely he’d been abducted, but would anyone wishing to cause him harm also have use for the Malfoy boy?
No, Harry told himself firmly. And there was no visible sign of a struggle. The other boys in the Slytherin dormitory had slept through their disappearance and when they had later been woken by a rather flustered Professor McGonagall, to find out what they knew, both boys claimed to have seen or heard nothing.
Of course, their memories could have been altered to erase the information. Any witch or wizard of any prowess could perform a simple Memory Charm…
Harry stopped on the spot, having heard a rustling at his side. He kept his wand out warily ahead of him, ready to defend himself. With a soft hooting noise, an owl flew right over Harry’s head, with what looked like a mouse in its beak. It was headed to the Owlery, most likely.
You’re being ridiculous, Harry told Harry. You’re paranoid.
Albus was in no danger. Albus was not him. He was not being hunted by the most terrible Dark Wizard in an age. He was not marked for death.
And yet… the dreams. The pain in his scar. The instinctive twist of his gut which hardly ever failed him.
They’ve run away again, that’s all. They’ve run away to spite you. They’ll come back. They’re just two young boys messing about.
Harry wanted to believe the sensible voice in his head which told him Albus was fine. He wanted to believe it with all his heart. But somehow, he couldn’t rid himself of the image of his youngest son reaching out for him, screaming his name.
In what felt like no time at all, Harry spotted a light in the distance. He raised his wand as it approached.
Please be Albus, Harry thought desperately. Please be my son.
But as the light drew closer, Harry could make out a familiar pale, pointed face, illuminated in the darkness.
Draco was shaking his head with frustration. His search hadn’t proved fruitful either.
“Well?” Draco demanded as Harry walked up to approach him.
“No sign,” Harry admitted. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
“Why are you apologising?” Draco asked suspiciously. “What have you done wrong this time? If you’ve had a hand in this…”
“I haven’t done anything," Harry said wearily, hoping he sounded like he meant it.
“Are you sure about that?” Draco demanded, narrowing his eyes.
Harry felt oddly like a guilty schoolchild.
“Albus and I had words,” he found himself admitting, awkwardly.
Draco looked ready to start shouting at this revelation.
“After what they did are you telling me you didn’t tell Scorpius he’d been an idiot?” Harry asked, starting to lose his temper with guilt.
“Are you calling my son, my son, an idiot?” Draco hissed, wand raised.
“I’m calling both of them idiots!” Harry burst out, messing up his own sweaty hair and giving the grass a kick. “What you say to your son is up to you, but Albus messed up. He really messed up. He put people in danger, and he needed to know that. And as his father, I needed to tell him… that it’s just not on.“
Draco stared at Harry for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, lowered his wand.
“Of course it’s not on,” Draco agreed. “It’s ridiculous. These notions of heroism. The danger of it all. They’re just children…”
“Fourteen years old,” Harry said, thinking suddenly of himself at the same age. It was strange to think of a boy the age of Albus being involved in the Triwizard Tournament, to think of that same boy having faced Dementors, a Basilisk, Lord Voldemort himself…
How had it been allowed to happen? Why had nobody intervened? When Harry had been fourteen, the idea of being called a child would have frustrated and insulted him, but now with a son the very same age, it struck him how very young he had been, how young his own son was…
“They grow up too fast!” Draco continued, sounding angry at no one in particular.
“Sometimes… sometimes that can’t be helped,” Harry found himself saying.
Harry looked at Draco. Draco looked back.
Draco seemed to be remembering too. Harry wondered what it was he was thinking of. What had gone on in his own fourteenth year? It was common knowledge now that the Malfoy family at that time had been involved deeply in Dark Magic, and Harry was not naive enough to imagine that Draco had been kept away from it all.
By the time they had reached their seventh year, both boys had been fighting a war, on opposite sides. How had they got there? How could it have happened? It was madness that two children could have reached that point. Even in the climate of the old days, the danger of it all, it was ridiculous.
Draco Malfoy was the one to look away first, breaking the odd moment of curiosity and understanding.
“Come on,” he declared. “I say we do one more loop of the grounds. Just in case either of us missed anything.”
Harry nodded his head and together, rather awkwardly, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walked along in the darkness, side by side.
For a long while they searched without speaking. Occasionally Harry would sigh with frustration, or Draco would make some irate remark under his breath about the lack of Hogwarts security or lax student protection. A couple of times, when they heard a noise, Harry would grow very quiet and still, listening intently, but Draco would immediately call out: "Scorpius? Scorpius!"
Without fail Draco and Harry would be disappointed.
They were about three quarters of the way through their second loop when Harry plucked up the courage to confide in his once arch nemesis.
“Look, I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t care what you think of it. But you have a right to know.”
“What?” Draco snapped.
“My scar hurt. This evening. My scar hurt and that’s why Ginny and I came here tonight. It was why we checked on Albus.”
“Everyone knows about your scar,” Draco remarked, sounding irritated. “Doesn’t it give a twinge every other week? Or is it just when you’re falling out of the limelight?”
Harry had the tremendous urge to kick Draco, just then. He valiantly held it back.
“Can you drop all that for one second?” Harry asked. “Because in case you hadn’t noticed, this is serious. Do you really think I wanted to be roaming the Hogwarts grounds with you in the middle of the night? Do you think I wanted to be worried sick about Albus?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, reluctantly conceding the point.
“So what are you saying? That you think your scar hurting and our sons disappearing are linked in some way?”
“Voldemort’s allies have been moving. I’ve been following them with my department for months. I’m not saying it’s him. But I can’t be too careful-“
“Of course,” Draco burst out, spitefully. “At the first sign of trouble you go to your usual scapegoat.”
“Are you calling Voldemort a scapegoat?” Harry asked, utterly bewildered.
“You know what happens when you make these ludicrous, unfounded accusations. To those that supported him. To their families. Who do you think pays the price when you jump to conclusions? When you talk about your scar?”
“Are you seriously making this about you?”
“Do you realise what happens every time a story breaks in the Prophet? Every time someone so much as suspects He’s back?”
Harry shook his head mutely.
“My son pays the price! My wife… she used to pay the price. Innocent people! I’ve had threats, you know. People wishing death upon my son, my only son, and all because of your hysteria…”
“I’m sorry about that, okay?” Harry burst out with frustration. “Do you think I want your son to suffer? But what your family did, what you did. That’s not on me. All I can do is my job. Which is to protect people.”
“Because you love to play the hero.”
“You know what I love?” Harry snapped. “I love a bit of peace and quiet. I love not waking up in the night with my scar burning, to find my son is gone. I would love to just go to bed at night and not have to worry. But guess what, some of us have no choice. I never asked for any of this. Any of it. But I deal with it. And I could do without people like you constantly acting like I’m some sort of hate monger for being even the slightest bit suspicious of the people who used to want me dead.”
Draco fell silent.
“And you know what? I get that you’re angry. Okay? Because I would be too. Your son is missing. But I am not making this up, and I could really seriously do without you trying to make out I’m this overdramatic, fame hungry, attention-seeker.”
Draco took a deep breath and appeared to be fighting back the urge to retort.
“All right?” Harry said, letting out a breath.
Draco blinked a couple of times and tried to recover his dignity after that almighty dressing-down from Harry Potter of all people.
“Go on then. You were talking about your scar,” Draco forced out.
“Right,” Harry said, a little thrown by Draco Malfoy’s sudden cooperation. “I had a dream - a nightmare. I heard Voldemort’s voice. I saw my son. He was… in trouble.”
“And what made you think it wasn’t just a normal nightmare?”
“Just a feeling,” Harry admitted. It felt embarrassing enough as it was to admit to the dreams in front of Draco Malfoy, let alone have it pointed out that he was essentially starting a panicked search on the basis of a burning scar and gut feeling. Even Harry knew it sounded ridiculous.
“Did you see my son?” Draco asked, desperately.
“No,” Harry said. “Just Albus. Calling for me.”
“You don’t suppose the dreams are prophetic?”
Harry’s eyes widened at how seriously Draco was suddenly taking this. Never had he imagined he would find himself discussing his dreams with this man. And it was almost beyond belief that Draco could go for more than ten seconds without insulting him for his honesty. And yet there Draco Malfoy was. Listening.
“No. I’ve spoken to Hermione about it. It’s not Divination. It’s… it’s hard to explain.”
Draco thought on that.
“Potter, do you honestly believe that Voldemort is involved in this somehow?” he asked, quietly.
Harry squinted in the wand light to see if he was being mocked. But Draco’s face was deadly serious, perhaps even a touch fearful.
“I believe there’s a possibility Dark Magic is involved.”
Draco took a deep breath and nodded his head, grimly. He looked pained. Harry was sure he’d seen him close his eyes for a short moment.
“But it’s only a possibility. We have to keep our options open at this point,” Harry found himself saying, suddenly in Auror-mode. “We don’t know anything for certain. There could be hundreds of explanations.”
“Potter,” Draco said darkly, looking over at him. “Even I can tell you think this is serious, or you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me. So don’t try that ridiculous Ministry facade. I can see right through it.”
“I’m just saying, we don’t need to panic…”
“There is every point in panicking!” Draco suddenly burst out. “Someone has got my son!”
Hearing those dreadful words, the words that he, Harry, so longed to express himself, he somehow found the strength to be the reasonable voice in all of this. The voice he desperately needed to hear.
“We don’t know that anyone’s got them. They could have just wandered off-“
“You suspect Dark Magic, Potter! And do you know what that means? It means that my son will be a target! They’ll want him harmed to punish me for leaving it all behind. They won’t care that he’s a child!”
“Draco…”
“Don’t try to patronise me! My son is in danger!”
“We don’t know that either of them are in any danger-”
“Nor do we know that he’s safe!” Draco snapped.
Harry stared over at Draco, unsure of how to deal with him in such a state. He wished Ginny was there to help him out. Or even Professor McGonagall.
“He’s got Albus with him,” Harry said, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.
“Oh wonderful!” Draco scoffed darkly. “I’m sure he’ll be a great help! Just like when my son ended up alone in some alternate reality ruled by Voldemort himself, and your son disappeared!”
Never in his life had Harry seen Draco Malfoy work himself up into such a frenzy of anxiety. He was quite clearly beside himself with concern for his only son. When people had told Harry that grief had changed Draco Malfoy, he hadn’t quite believed it. Not until that moment.
It was almost pitiful, that sight.
“We don’t know there’s anything suspicious going on. Not for certain,” Harry tried again. “They might have just… I don’t know. Gone for a walk or gone exploring. Anything. Ron and I got up to all sorts when we were at Hogwarts. It could just be that.”
“Oh yes, a stroll in the early hours of the morning, leaving no trace!”
Harry was about to point out that he, Ron, and Hermione had quite often embarked on such forbidden activities, but he realised that Draco, having had no real friends during his time at Hogwarts, couldn't see that this was a possibility.
“Look, they ran away before. Maybe they’ve done it again?”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because Draco’s expression darkened at the memory.
“If your son is in any way responsible for this…” Draco fumed, turning his fury quite suddenly on Harry.
“What makes you think it isn’t down to Scorpius?” Harry shot back, temper flaring in his stress.
“Because my son would never never have acted so irresponsibly until he met Albus.”
“What are you trying to say?” Harry demanded, squaring up to Draco.
But Draco did not continue. He seemed to catch himself mid-rage, and with great power of will swallowed it back down again. Draco took a few deep breaths before he felt able to speak.
“I didn’t mean to disrespect Albus. I… he means a great deal to my son.”
“Understood,” Harry mumbled, taking a deep breath of his own and running a hand through his hair.
“But this can’t keep happening. It can’t.”
Harry couldn’t help but agree with that.
“If we can’t find them tonight, then I assume we’ll seek Ministry involvement?” Draco enquired, oddly calmly. Harry glanced at him and saw that he was turning back into the restrained and proud Draco Malfoy he recognised. Part of him was glad. The other… maybe not so much.
“Yes,” Harry agreed, equally professional. “I’ll use the whole of Law Enforcement if I have to.”
Draco nodded his head with approval.
There was an odd silence which was only broken by the distant hooting of owls.
“Another loop?” Harry suggested.
Draco nodded again.
Without another word, the two men began to walk again, in almost-companionable and yet incredibly anxious silence.
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