Chapter Text
PART ONE
Draco sat at his desk, scrolls and parchment piled haphazardly on the mahogany surface. The late morning sunlight streaming through the window only reinforcing the throbbing behind his eyes, a persistent reminder that even the strongest hangover potions no longer were effective.
His fingers hovered over the pile of unopened letters. He didn’t want to deal with them, but he knew he had no choice. With a sharp exhale, he picked up the last one and tore it open, already bracing himself.
‘Mr Malfoy,
I regret to inform you that we have no available staff in the agency for your position of governess. We will keep your..’
Draco’s lip curled into a sneer, and he crumpled the letter in his fist, throwing it carelessly onto the floor. It joined the others, letters of rejection, each one a silent echo of his failures.
‘Thank you for reaching out but we are currently short staffed’
‘We have no available governessess available at present’
‘We cannot assist in your search for a governess for your son’
The words bled together into an endless litany of frustration. His teeth clenched as he shoved his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to smash something. This was her doing. Astoria. She had poisoned every possible lead, every avenue he had tried. A calculated, bitter woman who made it her life’s work to ruin him.
Draco had done what was expected of him, he had sired an heir, ensuring the Malfoy name would survive. But this? Raising the boy? That was a different matter entirely. He had no idea what to do with a five-year-old. And now, the house-elves were refusing to do it for him. They insisted he needed a governess. Distraught
He drained the firewhiskey from his tumbler in one desperate gulp, the warmth burning down his throat, but it did little to numb the gnawing frustration. He poured another, savoring the temporary relief as the liquid slid down his throat.
He needed something stronger.
“Draco.”
The familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced up just as Theodore Nott stepped through the Floo, shaking the dust from his dark hair.
“You’re looking like hell,” Theo remarked dryly, his sharp eyes flicking over the disarray of scrolls on the desk and the empty tumbler in Draco’s hand.
“I’m not in the mood, Theo.” Draco’s voice was tight, and he reached for the decanter again, but Theo placed a firm hand over his.
“Lay off the firewhiskey for now. We’ve got bigger things to deal with,” Theo said, his tone shifting from teasing to serious. He dropped into the chair opposite Draco, a quiet intensity settling between them.
Draco met his gaze, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “And what, exactly, do you want me to deal with, Theo? Another rejection letter?”
“Not a rejection letter,” Theo replied, his eyes narrowing. He pulled a brochure from his robes and laid it flat on the desk. “This is your solution.”
Draco looked down, his breath catching when he saw the name. ‘The Dumbledore Primary School for Magical Children’. The brochure was bright, glossy, and nauseatingly hopeful. Photographs of children climbing play equipment, waving wands in classrooms, playing Quidditch on tiny brooms—it looked like the type of place where you’d send Weasley spawn, not a Malfoy heir.
“Public school?” Draco muttered, his voice incredulous. “You're suggesting I send my son, the Malfoy heir, to a public school?”
“Careful, your bigotry is showing…” Theo sniped, tapping the page. “I’m on the board. I've put in a good word for you. You just need to owl the headmistress directly.”
Draco’s gaze lingered on the photos, his mind already swimming in the implications of it. Public school? No, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. But then, what was the alternative?
His hand hovered over his glass, but before he could pour more, Theo’s hand was on his again.
“Maybe eat something to soak up all the firewhiskey, you look like a skeleton, when's the last time you ate anything?”
Draco eyed him “does pussy count?” he smirked at his own joke, because coming to think of it, that was the last thing he ate.
Theo let his head roll back and looked at the ceiling, “Really didn't need to know that mate” He gathered himself and leaned forward on the desk towards Draco.
“Ok, listen up,” Theo said quietly, his voice growing serious. “This is important. Not just for me, We need your vote today. Bill 604. It’s crucial.”
Theo’s voice had softened, but the intensity hadn’t left his eyes.
Draco met his gaze, sensing the weight of something unspoken in Theo’s words. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Theo didn’t reply immediately, instead standing and moving closer. “I’ve been working behind the scenes on this for over a year, Draco. Your vote will tie the council and Shacklebolt will step in and be the tie break vote in our favour, I’m counting on you.”
Draco swallowed, his fingers twitching with the need for another drink. But as Theo’s gaze hardened, something in Draco shifted. He nodded.
Theo continued, ”Im fucking serious mate, I’ve stood by you though all your questionable life choices, and never asked for anything until now, this is important to me and someone I care greatly for, who is also someone you just happen to owe so much too, so its yes on 604, its the last bill of the day, don’t fuck this up.”
“Fine. Yes on 604. Draco waved him off as he attempted to grab the decanter of whiskey again. “But for the record, I’m still not happy about sending Scorp to a bloody wizard school that looks like a daycare for the Weasleys.”
Theo chuckled, but his amusement quickly turned to a more tender moment as the door swung open and a small, whirlwind of blond hair rushed in.
““Uncle Theo!”
Theodore crouched down just in time to catch Scorpius in his arms. The boy’s giggles filled the room, and for a moment, the tension broke.
“Why hello young man, who might you be?” Theo moved to hold his hand out for a handshake.
Scorpius burst into giggles. “Uncle Theo, it's me Scorpius,” the boy laughed and pressed a wet sloppy kiss to Theo’s cheek.
Theo opened his eyes wide in mock amazement, “Scorp is that really you, you're so big, how old are you now… twenty seven?” Theo asked affectionately. Scorpius fell into another fit of giggles, lifting his hand up and spreading his fingers wide.
“No Uncle Theo, I'm five now, Dadda says I have to be good and smart and quiet” Scorpius moved his finger over his lips in a shushing motion, frowning and scrunching his eyebrows together in an adorable imitation of this Father’s almost permanent scowl of late.
Theo lowered Scorpius to the floor, and he scurried out of Theo’s arms and moved over to Draco, he brushed his hand hesitantly on Draco’s arm, asking quietly “Do you have a headache Dadda, do you want a potion?”
"Just some quiet Scorp, off you go” Draco motioned him away. Scorpius' brow furrowed, but he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on his fathers arm and moved to the door, he looked back at Theo making the shushing noise again his finger over his mouth and whispered “Be quiet Uncle Theo, Dadda is always tired after his dates”. Scorpius quietly shut the study door as he left.
Draco froze, his hand tightening around the tumbler. Theo’s eyes widened in surprise, then laughter bubbled up. “Dates, huh, is that what you call them..?”
“Not your business, Theo,” Draco muttered, his face heating. But inside, a wave of unexpected guilt crashed over him. “I can do whatever I want to now, remember…divorced”, he held up his left hand and wiggled his bare ring finger.
“And you can fuck whoever you want, too it seems according to The Daily Prophet.” Theo replied and snatched the decanter away again, and motioned to a copy of the paper on the desk a photo of Draco, clearly drunk, arms around two women stumbling out of the Leaky Cauldron. Theo paused, pulling out his wand from his inner robes, seeing the wood softly glow and vibrate. “Shit I got to go, Draco I’m counting on you” He raised his finger as he backed towards the floo and grabbed some powder from the mantle, “Lay off the alcohol for this afternoon please”.
Theo spun on his heel, announcing with a casual flick of his wrist, “Ministry of Magic.” A burst of green flames erupted from the grate, swallowing him whole, vanishing in a swirl of smoke and embers.
Draco glanced down at the brochure in his hands, a deep, resigned sigh escaping him. Had it really come to this? Public school. The words burned in his mind like an unforgivable curse.
For a moment, a twisted sense of relief washed over him. His father, Lucius, was dead, and that was the one thing that kept Draco from unraveling completely. But Merlin, he thought, if Father could see what I’m about to do... His stomach churned at the thought, a mix of defiance and dread settling in. He could almost hear his father’s disapproving voice, harsh and cold, cutting through his thoughts.
Before he could spiral into another round of self-loathing, he did the only thing that seemed to numb the gnawing uncertainty. The bottle of firewhisky at his side was already half empty, and that did wonders for shutting down his brain. With a resigned wave of his wand, he summoned a blank sheet of parchment, dipped his quill, and began scribbling out an inquiry to the Headmistress of Dumbledore's Primary School for Magical Children.