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Draco awoke early the next morning. His back and neck were strangely aching and he felt rather cold - he must have kicked his duvet off in his sleep. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes properly and adjusted to his surroundings that he realised where he was. Instead of being in his own four poster bed, surrounded by goose feather pillows and blankets in deep shades of green, he was in fact, lying, curled up in a ball on his sons bedroom floor.

He got up quickly, and brushed himself down, rather embarrassed. How common of him, to have slept all night on his sons bedroom floor, without even a blanket. He was quite surprised that he’d actually managed it to be quite honest.

It was only then that Draco remembered the night be fore’s happenings. Astoria had gotten mad at him, for suggesting Scorpius was a squib, and she’d gone to sleep in one of the guest rooms. How petty of her. Draco also remembered giving Scorpius his wand in the night, to see if the child would do anything with it. He could remember no such luck.

Draco peered into Scorpius’ cot. He was sound asleep, his father’s wand still in his mouth. Draco had to admit that his son did look quite cute when he was sleeping. And he wasn’t making any mess or noise - that was nice. He watched him for a while, fondly, before attempting the almost impossible mission of retrieving his wand without waking Scorpius up. He gently prised open his son’s fists and took hold of the wand handle, before sliding it, ever so slowly out of the child’s mouth. Draco pulled a face as he held his wand out in front of him at arms length. The top was damp and dribbly from where Scorpius had been sucking on it all night. Draco wiped it cautiously on a burp bib that was hung over the end of Scorpius’ cot, and tucked it back into his pyjama bottom pocket.

Back in his own bedroom Draco sat on the end of the bed and yawned. He supposed he could make the bed himself, but he knew it would upset their house elf Walby would be quite offended if he did, so he didn’t bother.

He didn’t really know what to do with himself, if he was quite honest. Usually he wouldn’t wake up until late, but due to his inadequate sleeping arrangements last night he was up early, even before Scorpius. His mind was made up when he heard a sharp tapping at his window. He opened it up and a large long eared owl hopped onto his window sill. It held out its talon boldly, to which a parchment envelope was attached. Draco untied the envelope and let the bird help itself to some bird food and some water on a nearby table.

He recognised the writing almost at once, it was sharp and slightly slanted - it belonged to his father. Draco sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his parents, he did so very dearly, but they were rather high maintenance. He also knew that his father sending him and owl would almost definitely mean he was inviting himself over to stay. Lucius Malfoy didn’t care for stupid owls that merely said ‘how are you?’. He had once told Draco that he didn’t really care how his son was feeling, there was nothing he could do about it so why bother to inform him? Lucius had this heartless kind of view on a lot of things in life.

Draco opened up the letter and sure enough it read:

Your mother and I are planning to visit tonight on our way back from our vacation to Transylvania. Make sure that ruddy house elf makes the bed up to my standards this time - you definitely go to easy on him.
Your father.
P.S. I have a particularly amusing story to tell you about the mud blood neighbour.

Short and sweet is how Lucius always kept it. Draco scanned over it again. Tonight!? That gave him no time at all to sort out the manor for his parents.

“Walby!” Draco called out to his house elf, rather panic stricken. Walby appeared next to him straight away.

“How can I be of assistance Master?” the elf asked in a high pitched squeak, bowing so low that his long nose almost scraped the ground.

“I want you to thoroughly clean the entire manor - no slacking. And make sure that the master guest room is up to my fathers standards - we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Walby shifted uncomfortably at his memory of ‘last time‘, and then nodded eagerly, “It will be done, sir. Is there anything else Walby can be of your assistance for?”

“We’ll need a five course meal prepared for tonight - make sure it’s fit for our guests.”

“Of course, master. Right away.” Walby clicked his fingers and vanished.

Draco was on his feet at once - there was so much to be done. The first certainly being to get rid of that queer muggle contraption that Astoria had taken a shine to - he believed it was called something along the lines of a ‘cross-trainer’. What it did exactly he didn’t really know, but she liked to use it every day and it seemed to make her happy. It rather scared Draco though. And he knew his father would be deeply upset and angry at a muggle contraption in the house so he’d better find a way of getting rid of it sharpish.

But the muggle contraptions weren’t the only thing that were bothering Draco that morning. He hated to admit it, but he was terrified of what his father would say when he realised that Scorpius was not showing his signs of magic. Lucius Malfoy, of all people, was the worst for being prejudice about blood status, meaning he hated muggles, mud bloods, and squibs. Draco was sure that Lucius would not stand for his grandson to not have any magical powers, but he wasn’t sure what lengths he would go to to ensure this.

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