Draco doesn't slam the door to his old room. He can't wake Scorpius. His son is sleeping. He needs his sleep. He'd been so small when he'd been placed in Draco's arms. Not to mention so still. Draco can still smell the copper rich blood from his son's wounds. He knows the blood is gone from his chest where he'd cradled him but Draco feels like it'
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Draco's in, so long as he gets to see his father on a boogey board.
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