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The Healers room was painted a soothing green, and a big window let in the spring sunshine. Madam Rosemary, sitting behind a desk, gestured for Harry and Draco to sit in the two visitor’s chairs.
In the corner was a table surrounded by toys. Scorpius made a beeline for those. He made himself comfortable on a beanbag and was immediately engrossed with a wooden abacus. Draco watched his son for a moment, before turning his attention towards the Paediatrician.
Madam Rosemary looked nothing like the starched, green-robed Mediwitches Draco remembered from his childhood. Her grey hair was tied in a complicated braid, and she wore heavy amber jewellery. Draco twisted his hand in his lap, feeling nervous. Beside him, Harry’s mouth was set in a straight line, and he held himself tightly.
This appointment was a significant one, and they’d had it marked on the calendar for weeks. Today they would discover whether Scorpius, their four-year-old son, was – as his nursery school had suggested - autistic.
Madam Rosemary was the first to speak. “It’s wonderful to meet you both again,” she said, smiling professionally, “and little Scorpius too. How are you feeling about today’s appointment?”
“Anxious,” Draco admitted. “Glad that it’s finally here.”
Harry didn’t speak, so after a beat, Madam Rosemary continued. “I know it’s a difficult experience, but there’s nothing to be anxious about, I promise,” she replied, casting her eyes across the open file on her desk. “Now, just to recap, you were advised to visit St Mungo’s by Scorpius’s nursery school, is that correct? Coming here wasn’t an unprompted decision?”
Draco shifted in his seat, remembering the conversation he’d had with Miss Peony. “Scorpius’s nursery teacher brought it up at the end of the first term.” He flicked his eyes over to their son, who was still playing with the abacus and had carefully organised the beads into a tidy line. “It was a bolt from the blue if I’m honest. Scorpius is our first, plus we’re the first parents amongst our friends. We don’t… The thing is, we didn’t realise there was anything wrong with Scorp. He’s always been his own person, ever since he was born. We had no idea there was anything we ought to be concerned about.”
Draco paused. He’d slipped into the same spiel of defensive logic which rolled through his brain constantly. Harry gave his hand a supportive squeeze. His husband had told him innumerable times that he hadn’t done anything wrong, but it didn’t help much. He was still guilt-ridden.
“That’s a very common story,” Madam Rosemary answered. “Often nursery staff are the first to notice. They’re usually the first people outside immediate family to form a relationship with a child. Please don’t worry. Without other children to compare to, how could you have known there was anything different about him? As for Scorpius, a diagnosis of autism doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with him, or that it must be a cause for concern.”
For the first time since entering the office, Harry spoke. There was a protective edge to his voice. “Is that what the results say?” he asked bluntly. “Scorpius has autism?”
Suddenly, the room seemed airless, and Draco felt his heart knocking against his ribs. He didn’t really know why, because he knew exactly what Madam Rosemary would say before the words even left her mouth.
The witch looked at Scorpius’s file once more before picking up a small piece of parchment. “According to the tests Scorpius has taken, the conversations I’ve had with both of you, and my observation of your son at Green Toadstool Nursery, I can confirm he does meet the criteria for Autistic Spectrum Disorder.”
Draco let out the breath that he hadn’t known he was holding onto. Beside him, Harry bristled. “My son is perfect,” he answered, frowning, his voice tightly controlled. “He’s kind, funny, clever… I don’t know where this is all coming from.”
“During every visit here, and during my observation, I was privileged to see all those aspects of his character,” Madam Rosemary answered, not cowed in the slightest by Harry’s fame. “Being autistic doesn’t preclude Scorpius from being kind, funny, clever, or anything else he wishes to be.”
Madam Rosemary halted briefly. She looked towards Scorpius. He wasn’t paying any attention to the adults’ conversation. Having moved on from the abacus, Scorpius was directing his interest onto a toy snake instead. He ran it through his fingers, enjoying the sensation of the slippery skin against his own.
“But it’s better to be armed with all the facts, don’t you think, whilst Scorpius is still little?” the witch asked them both. “That way, steps can be taken, both at home and at school, to ensure Scorpius can live his best life.”
That was all that Draco wanted, and he knew it was everything Harry wanted too. His husband loved their son more than all the stars in the sky. Once he’d adjusted to the diagnosis, Harry would be Scorp’s greatest advocate.
“You said he had a disorder,” Harry snapped back, quick as a whip.
But Madam Rosemary wasn’t thrown. “That’s the official title,” she explained. “But please be assured that many people don’t view it that way. Many of those diagnosed believe it to be a gift or say they wouldn’t wish to live without it. In fact, this is one of the many areas where Muggles, by nature of their larger population, have advanced far further than the wizarding world. We’re catching up, although slowly.”
Draco, who had devoured every article and book on the subject he could find in the Islington public library, could attest to that. He had found books about language acquisition, about social skills, and about famous people who had been autistic. There had been a whole shelf, whereas in the vast library at Malfoy Manor Draco hadn’t discovered a single mention of the condition.
“I tried bringing it up with my parents,” Draco said, speaking for the first time since Madam Rosemary had made her diagnosis. “They hadn’t a clue what I was talking about. Mother talked about fey folk and changelings, scattered through the different generations of my family. She said some never spoke, while others would talk at length about only one thing.” He sighed. “Mother was actually talking about autistic people, wasn’t she?”
“I believe so,” Madam Rosemary said. “The history of autistic people in pureblood families is a shameful one,” she continued. “They were disinherited, hidden away, or institutionalised. Luckily, things are beginning to change. With you two on his side, Scorpius won’t have to suffer from prejudice.”
“But his life will still be harder, won’t it?” Harry cut in, a degree of sadness creeping into his tone. “It feels so unfair. We had such a challenging time getting pregnant, but then Scorpius was born, and it was like a light had switched on. All I want for Scorp is an easier time of it than Draco and I had when we were kids.”
Madam Rosemary looked at Harry sympathetically. “But that’s where you’ll both come in,” she said. “Now is when you become Scorpius’s greatest ally. Our world wasn’t designed for him, or for people like him. He might hit development checkpoints in a different order, or at a different rate to his peers. Scorpius’s autism might affect his spoken language, his social skills or how he’ll process the world around him. We simply don’t know yet. Everything will become clearer with time.”
“We can be his allies,” Draco said, assuring himself, as much as Harry or Madam Rosemary. “We’ll do everything in our power.” He risked a glance in Harry’s direction. The fight had left his husband’s expression, and he appeared lost in thought.
“That’s marvellous to hear,” Madam Rosemary said, smiling approvingly. “There is nothing lesser in being autistic, it is simply a different way of being. Your son isn’t broken or damaged. However, there are always going to be difficulties living in a world that wasn’t built for you, which is why it is described as a disability but, with your help, Scorpius will be able to cope and adapt. Some people can adapt to autism in such a way that you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. His diagnosis isn’t the end of his story, not by a long way.”
“Does that mean Scorp could be normal, when he grows up?” Harry asked.
“Normal is such a loaded word, don’t you think? Scorpius is already normal,” Madam Rosemary answered, not unkindly. “His autism has been a part of him since the day he was born, just like his kindness, his humour, and his green eyes. He’s still your baby. But no, even with coping and adaptation, he’ll still be autistic. It isn’t something you grow out of. Some days fitting in with others, and playing down autistic behaviours comes easily, other days are more difficult. We call it masking, and some wixen are better at it than others.”
A slight flush coloured Harry’s cheeks, but he didn’t answer. Draco could see the cogs moving in Harry’s head and could tell he was considering everything that Scorpius’s Healer had said.
Draco broke the silence. “We’ve never met an autistic person before,” he admitted, squeezing Harry’s hand, wanting to comfort them both. “Maybe in Muggle circles things might be different, but amongst the people we know… Well, we’d never know if they were. It’s not the sort of thing people admit.”
“It’s certainly a taboo subject,” Madam Rosemary said, nodding her agreement with Draco’s words, “and it isn’t easy to be the first to admit one’s difference. However, it isn’t true that you’ve never met an autistic person. I’m an autistic person and, I hope, not too scary.”
Draco could scarcely believe it. He’d never have known, had Madam Rosemary not chosen to tell them. “Not scary at all,” Draco repeated. “Is that, um, why you chose this career?” he asked, genuinely interested.
Madam Rosemary took a sip from the glass of water which stood at the edge of her desk.
“Not initially. My own diagnosis came later, after spending time in Muggle hospitals as part of my Healer training. I worked with a terrific team of paediatricians there, all of whom were very open about their neurodiversity. Something clicked, and finally I understood why I’d always felt so different to my friends, and to my family. For the first time, I felt like myself. That’s why it’s so good that you’re seeking help for Scorpius at such a young age. He’ll grow up with an understanding of himself, and who he is, and know that he is perfect nevertheless.”
Draco felt a great deal of admiration for Madam Rosemary, and how frankly she spoke about her diagnosis. Over time, Draco hoped it would become second nature for Harry and him to talk openly about autism as well. Draco had always been incredibly proud of Scorpius and couldn’t imagine hiding any part of who his son was.
“We made an appointment on the same day Miss Peony voiced her concerns,” Draco agreed. “We want to support Scorpius every way we can.”
Beside him, Harry sat up straighter in his chair. “No offence,” he said, “but are you sure you’re not just seeing autism in Scorpius because that’s what you expected to see?” He swallowed, and Draco felt a stab of empathy for his husband. Harry hadn’t wanted to engage with the books Draco had brought home from the Muggle library or have any discussions about what a diagnosis would mean. Harry had been hoping for a different outcome.
Harry glanced at the ceiling, at Scorpius, and finally at Draco. It was to him, rather than Madam Rosemary, that Harry addressed his next comment. “So, Scorpius likes dragons? I’d have liked dragons when I was four, had I known they existed! Yes, I admit he’s a bit of a chatterbox on the subject, but maybe that’s just him. Maybe he’ll get interested in other things later. To me, Scorp seems like an ordinary lad. He isn’t all that different to how Teddy was at the same age.”
Madam Rosemary watched Harry steadily. Eventually he turned, glanced at her, before looking away. “No one is saying this is a bad thing,” Madam Rosemary said softly. “Scorpius isn’t ill. In every meaningful way, he is the same person who walked into this appointment room with you this morning. Would it help, do you think, if I explained where my diagnosis has come from?”
“Please,” Draco said, and Harry nodded.
“Alright,” Madam Rosemary said, running a finger down her notes. She smiled. “To begin with, Scorpius displays distinct sensory defensiveness and sensory seeking behaviours, and both of these are indicators of autism-”
“I don’t get it,” Harry cut in, frowning. “Sensory what-now?”
Draco, having read the library books, had a fair idea what Madam Rosemary was talking about. Even so, he decided to let her explain, knowing it would be far more understandable to Harry than anything he said.
“Sensory defensiveness and sensory seeking behaviours,” Madam Rosemary repeated. “Remember before, when I said that Scorpius’s autism might affect the way he processes the world around him? That’s because autistic people’s senses can be very different to those without the condition. So, a sound, sensation, or noise might appear amplified to them, making it uncomfortable to experience. Firstly, remember when Scorpius didn’t like it when I Lumos’ed the light during our first appointment? He complained it hurt his eyes. Then, when I visited his nursery school, I watched him press his hands to his ears during playtime. Lastly, during our interview, when we talked about dinners, you told me Scorpius has a very limited repertoire of foods that he is willing to eat?”
“Mashed potatoes,” Draco said wryly. “Toast and fishfingers if he’s feeling brave. He says other things taste too strong or too slimy.”
“He’s funny about clothes too,” Harry added. “Likes his pyjamas to be a size too small, so they’re tight. And Scorp always throws his bed sheets onto the floor, even in the winter. He gets too hot under the covers.”
“These are all sensory defensive behaviours,” Madam Rosemary said, looking at both wizards in turn, “and I’d hazard a guess you’re already helping Scorpius by not making him eat foods which he can’t handle, or making him wear clothes that make him uncomfortable. Even without knowledge of his autism, you’re already helping Scorpius to negotiate the world.”
Harry sighed. “I’d never force Scorp to eat foods he didn’t like. My Uncle and Aunt used to do that very thing,” he said. “Every dinner time they’d tell me I was lucky to get food at all, that every pea and carrot had come off Dudley’s plate. I couldn’t leave the table until I’d cleared my plate, and it all tasted vile. Every mouthful was a battle.”
“Scorpius gets all of his sensory defensiveness from you,” Draco said, looking at his husband. “There’s lots of different fabrics you can’t stand to have next to your skin and you always get so hot in bed that you throw the blankets over me. I’m always sweltering when I wake up.”
Madam Rosemary smiled sympathetically. “Let’s move onto the sensory seeking behaviour Scorpius displays. His spinning, stamping of feet, and his hand flapping are some examples.”
“Scorpius enjoys the sensation of feeling dizzy,” Draco confirmed. “Always has, ever since he learnt to walk.”
“Those are stims, or stimming,” Madam Rosemary told them, “and both are sensory seeking. Unfortunately, there isn’t one specific reason I can give you for Scorpius’s stims, because they are different for every autistic person. It might be for simple enjoyment, like the spinning or, in the case of feet stamping, it could be a method for Scorpius to centre himself. He may not even know himself.”
“I’m the same though,” Harry said, frowning. “I’ve never been able to sit still, ask any of my colleagues. I can’t sit through a meeting without getting out of my chair and moving around the room. I think better when I’ve got something in my hand or I’m active. When I’m sitting still, I want to vibrate out of my skin.”
“And that’s exactly how Scorpius would feel, were he denied his sensory seeking behaviours. I know that they can look a little odd occasionally, but they’re an important way for an autistic person to regulate themselves and reduce their stress. Unless it’s self-injurious then we shouldn’t try to stop them.”
Draco looked towards Scorpius. The toy snake had been abandoned in favour of Muggle crayons, and a colouring book. Scorp wasn’t interested in the black and white pictures of trains and bicycles, however. He was happily drawing his own little squiggles, and fitting each into a bigger pattern. Squiggling was one of his son’s favourite activities and, left alone, he could draw for ages.
“I read a book,” Draco said, “in the Muggle library, and it told me one of the best things you can do for an autistic child is encourage their interests.” He blushed, hearing how his words had sounded. “Obviously, we’d do that anyway, regardless of the diagnosis. Scorpius loves dragons,” he added. “Ever since he was a toddler, Scorpius has consumed everything he could on the subject. It’s all he talks about.”
“Absolutely,” Madam Rosemary confirmed. “Dragons are a special interest. When we spoke together in the nursery, Scorpius showed an understanding of dragon-centred words which were far beyond his age level. It’s another way for autistic people to cope with the world around them. Special interests provide structure, order, and predictability and help them to manage the uncertainties of life.”
“For me, it was dinosaurs,” Harry said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Dudley was given an encyclopaedia about them once, for a birthday, but he wasn’t interested in anything that wasn’t plastic or made a loud noise. He threw it in the bin, so I fished it out. I read it so often that I had all the entries memorised.” He sighed. “It used to calm my brain. Nothing I did for my Uncle and Aunt was right, and the goalposts changed every day. My mind was constantly whirring with worries and concerns.” Harry’s eyes rose to look at Scorpius. “Daft as it sounds, reading that dinosaur encyclopaedia was the only time where I had a clear mind.”
“You know, you seem to relate strongly to the traits that Scorpius displays,” Madam Rosemary said cautiously, taking another sip from her glass of water. “The sensory defensive behaviours you display around clothes, food and bedding, fidgeting during meetings and a childhood special interest in dinosaurs.”
“And your grownup special interest in Quidditch statistics,” Draco cut in, smiling.
“It makes an awful lot of sense,” Madam Rosemary said. “You’re more likely to develop autism if one of your parents has the condition as well. Often, when a person discovers they’re on the autistic spectrum as an adult, it helps them to understand elements of their own past in a different light.”
Madam Rosemary’s words appeared to have cast a Pretrificus Totalus over Harry. He didn’t speak, and simply stared at Scorpius’s Healer. Draco knew Harry wouldn’t agree to being assessed immediately – he’d need a period of acclimatisation to the idea – but he hoped very much that his husband would eventually. Anything which helped Harry make sense of and be at peace with his dreadful upbringing could only be a good thing.
“If Harry, um, decided to go down that path,” Draco asked, keeping his words carefully neutral, “what would it entail?”
“The process is very similar to what Scorpius undertook,” Madam Rosemary said, opening her drawer, and taking out a leaflet. “A few tests, a discussion about your previous life experiences and the completion of a few forms. Overall, it wouldn’t take a huge amount of time. A day, perhaps two, over the course of a couple of months.”
Harry frowned, and he took his glasses off to clean them on the hem of his tee-shirt. It was one of his husband’s most obvious tells. Harry was fighting with himself, unsure as to whether this was a good idea. At last, Harry spoke. “I’m not sure whether it’d be worth it? I’m thirty-two, own a broomstick emporium, and I already know what I’m all about.”
“Only you can make the decision about whether it's worth it or not,” Madam Rosemary answered, passing Harry the leaflet over her desk. “I can only speak from personal experience. Finding out I was autistic was a big relief. I was able to look back on events in my life, and understand the reasons I’d reacted as I had… I was able to forgive myself and move forward with a more forgiving mindset. Plus, it would be good for Scorpius as he grows and develops. He would always know that he wasn’t alone.”
Harry cast his eyes over the leaflet before folding it and pushing it into the depths of his bag. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Draco is the one who read all the books in the library. I buried my head in the ground.”
“Everyone needs time to come around to things,” Madam Rosemary said kindly. “We all have ideas about ourselves, and the people who we love, so a diagnosis can bring up all sorts of complicated emotions. Our time here is up, I’m afraid, but before you go, let me give you this.” Standing, Madam Rosemary handed Draco a stack of papers. “These are Scorpius’s test results and his official diagnosis, which you can peruse at home. I’ll follow up this meeting by sending a copy of the same material to Miss Peony Prentiss at Green Toadstool Nursery.”
“Thank you so much,” Draco said, rolling up the parchment and securing it with a charm before placing it into his bag. Harry, Scorpius, and he had only been in the room for half an hour, but he felt physically and mentally exhausted. He couldn’t wait to return to Grimmauld Place, cuddle with Scorp, make a cup of tea, and let today’s appointment sink in properly. His mind was whirling with everything they’d talked about. “I’m sure we’ll have about fifty questions,” he added, “once we’ve read everything through.”
“Of course,” Madam Rosemary nodded. “Send me an owl, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Draco shook Madam Rosemary’s hand. “Thank you for your time. It’s a lot to take in, but Scorpius is the brightest star in our sky. Anything we can do to support him, we will.”
“I don’t doubt it,” the witch said, shaking Harry’s offered hand. “It’s my pleasure. Scorpius is a wonderful young wizard, and even though he was a little suspicious of me to begin with, it’s clear you’re raising a very content young man who already feels safe, supported, and loved. You’ve already done a grand job of raising an autistic child, even without any knowledge of it.”
Madam Rosemary’s praise meant a great deal to Draco, and he felt the knot of tension in his belly loosen. When Scorpius was born, his and Harry’s only goal had been to give their son a happy life. He turned to Scorpius, who was still bent over the colouring book, the cuffs of his jumper dyed red by the crayons.
“Time to go home, baby,” Draco told him. “Do you think Medusa will have missed us?”
Scorpius got to his feet, abandoning his artwork without a second glance, and bounded over to him. He threw out his arms, and Draco picked him up, pressing a quick kiss into his vanilla-scented hair. “Can cats be autistic?” Scorpius asked, looking at Madam Rosemary for confirmation.
“You were so quiet,” Madam Rosemary told him. “I didn’t realise you were listening. You’d be surprised, Scorpius. Some owners do think their cats are autistic.”
“Medusa’s fur is itchy,” Scorpius complained, wrinkling his nose. “Itchy-tistic.”
“I don’t think cats can be autistic,” Madam Rosemary answered. “Just very special humans, like you and I.”
“Very special,” Scorpius beamed. “Swedish Short-Snouts are very special too. Their flames are the brightest blue.”
“Come on, Starbug,” Harry said, smiling at Scorpius’s statement. “Let’s go home. What do you say to a game of dragon snap? I think, if we team up, we can easily beat Papa.”
“Is that right?” Draco laughed. “You both know how much I like to win.” He turned to Madam Rosemary. “Thank you again,” he said, and Harry, Scorpius and he made their way out of the room.
The corridor back to the Public Floo was busy, and Scorpius, who wasn’t fond of hustle and bustle or noise, buried his face in Draco’s neck. Harry carried their bags, eyes somewhere far away. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left Madam Rosemary’s office, which wasn’t like him. Usually, Harry was the most talkative of the three Malfoy-Potters.
It was only when they were sat, back home on their settee that Harry finally spoke. “I’ll think about it,” he said, watching as Scorpius darted to collect the dragon snap cards. “Are Madam Rosemary’s owl coordinates in Scorp’s notes? You know… Just in case I need to ask for a Healer recommendation.”
Closing the space between then, Draco gave his husband a kiss, wanting to say without words how courageous Harry was being. This was a very different sort of bravery than the reckless Gryffindor bravery Harry had shown at school.
“They are,” Draco told him, after breaking their kiss. “Do you know how much I love you?” he added, a familiar question.
“Not as much as I love you,” Harry answered, leaning in to kiss Draco once again.
~
It was three months later, and Draco and Scorpius were enjoying a lazy afternoon in the lounge of Grimmauld Place. Outside was dull and grey, but Draco had cast Warming Charms to make their antiquated home comfortable.
Draco idled on the settee, reading Jane Eyre, with Scorpius tucked into his side. Scorpius was reading Scamander’s Fantastic Beasts and he had it open on the page dedicated to the Peruvian Vipertooth. Draco had read it so many times that Scorpius knew all the words. “They’re the smallest of all the dragons,” he read aloud, following the text with his finger, “and the swiftest in flight.”
“I thought that was the Romanian Longhorn,” Draco said, even though he knew full well it wasn’t. He just enjoyed letting Scorpius talk about his hobby.
“No, Papa,” Scorpius said, wrinkling his brow in a manner very reminiscent of Harry. “You know they’re much bigger, which makes them much slower.”
Draco would have asked a second question, but he was disturbed by the Floo chiming, and the sight of enchanted green flames rising in their fireplace.
Moments later, Harry stepped into the room, and brushed small traces of ash from his shoulders. He hung up his coat, kicked off his trainers, and took a set of parchments from his bag. Draco placed his bookmark back in Jane Eyre and abandoned the novel onto the carpet.
Harry dropped heavily onto the settee, so that each wizard bracketed Scorpius. Their son gave Harry a brief smile, before turning his attention back to Fantastic Beasts. Harry was quiet, and his demeanour was serious, and even though Draco knew he ought to give his husband time, patience had never been his strong suit.
“Well? What did Healer Lomas say?” Draco asked, watching Harry over the top of Scorpius’s head.
After unfurling the parchments Harry handed them over. Draco took them, his eyes scanning the text. He found what he was looking for, straightaway.
Diagnosis: Autistic Spectrum Disorder.
Madam Rosemary had been right. Scorpius wasn’t the only member of their family with autism. Draco supposed he ought to feel shocked, or even remotely surprised, but he didn’t. If anything, he felt the opposite. Their little family finally made perfect sense. After all, everything he loved most about Scorpius were the things he loved most about Harry.
“How are you feeling about it?” Draco asked, handing the parchment back. Harry still hadn’t spoken. He placed his diagnosis on the coffee table, sighed, and took out his wand. He Accio’ed the paper bag of Ice Mice that they’d brought from Diagon the day before. Harry didn’t eat one, though. Instead, Harry rolled the shiny wrapping between his finger and thumb.
Eventually, Harry spoke. “Relieved, mostly. Perhaps a teeny bit upset? This… My autism… I’ll have inherited it from one of my parents, won’t I? If they’d only been alive, maybe this is something I’d have known about myself for longer… Something we’d have seen earlier in Scorpius.”
“We got Scorp’s diagnosis as early as we could,” Draco answered, wanting to put Harry’s mind at rest. “I wonder, perhaps, if it was your Mum who was autistic? Perhaps there were parts of your personality which reminded your Aunt of her sister when they were younger?” Draco smiled sadly. “We’ll never know, darling. I wish I knew the answer.”
“I suppose not,” Harry said, taking a mouse from the bag, and chewing. After he’d swallowed, he spoke again. “Largely, I think I’m happy that I know. It explains a lot of things. When I was little… before I ever knew I was a wizard, I never, ever felt in step with anybody. I used to think it was because I was an orphan, or because I never had toys or nice clothes. Then, when I turned eleven, everything changed. Suddenly, I was a wizard. I could cast magic spells. I told myself that was why the world had always felt so wrong.” Harry smiled, for the first time since Flooing home. “But perhaps it wasn’t. Madam Rosemary was right, wasn’t she? It’s self-knowledge. Being able to look back at events from my life and understand things in a different light.”
“And,” Draco added, “it’s another way you can relate to Scorpius.”
“That’s true,” Harry answered, beginning to look more positive. He wound his arm around Scorpius’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “Guess what?” he said, dropping his head to address his son. “I’ve been to see a Healer this morning, Starbug, and he gave me some big news. You and I, we have the same sort of brain. We’re both autistic, baby. It’s our special power.”
Scorpius didn’t look up from Fantastic Beasts. “Horntails have special powers,” he said, pointing to the book. “The spikes on their tails are the sharpest things in the world.”
“Like a Stegosaurus,” Harry told Scorpius. “They were my favourite dinosaur when I was little. They had spikes on their tails too, and big plates on their backs.”
“You two are ridiculous,” Draco opined, amused, “It’s a good thing you’ve got my blond hair, darling. Otherwise, I’d think your Daddy cloned you from one of his fingernails.”
“Scorp does have my unruly hair,” Harry told him, “and my love of giant reptiles. So far, he doesn’t have my reprehensible eyesight. That’s a blessing.”
“He gets some things from me,” Draco quipped. “We both love reading, long baths, Chocolate Frogs, and you. That’s enough, for now.”
Harry laughed, but then his face took on a more serious expression. “This, er… Well, it won’t change anything, will it?”
“Such as?” Draco asked, letting the question hang in the air. Draco didn’t understand what Harry was getting at.
“I’m not sure,” Harry answered. “Things between us, with my mates, at work… If The Prophet finds out, you know there’ll be headlines. You, me, Scorp. What we’ve made together is my happy ending, and I don’t want anything to ruin that.”
That made a lot of sense. Harry worked hard to safeguard his family, because it was the most important thing in his life.
“Nothing will change unless you want it to,” Draco assured Harry. “This is your news to tell. You don’t have to tell Ron, or Hermione, or the team at work. It’s your decision to make. As for the blasted Prophet, if they found out and made a fuss, so what? We aren’t ashamed of Scorpius; I’m not ashamed of you.” He smiled, raising a hand to tuck a curl behind Harry’s ear. “I happen to love all of you, which means I love all your autistic parts too.”
“It’s tricky,” Harry admitted, acknowledging Draco’s words with a nod. “I had a set of ideas about myself and now I need to make readjustments to those. It’ll take some time.” He sighed. “But it’ll be easier for Scorpius, won’t it? He’s going to grow up knowing the right names for how he is feeling. He’ll have strategies he can use when he’s overwhelmed. Scorp will understand himself, far better than I ever have.”
Draco leant over the top of Scorpius’s head to give his husband a kiss. Harry was a wonderful dad. “He will,” Draco told Harry. “We’re going to make sure he continues to have an amazing life. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for him, and all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Dropping his head, Harry turned his attention to Scorpius. “Do you fancy making a trip to Aunty Luna’s Magical Creature Reservation? Luna told me they’d got a new baby Graphorn. D’you fancy meeting them?”
Luna’s Reservation was Scorp’s favourite place. He jumped to his feet, stimming joyously at the news. “Yes, yes, yes!” he shouted. “Graphorns have plates on their backs, like a Stegosaurus!” Scorpius dropped his book and dived off in the direction of his coat and trainers.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Harry asked, sliding over so that he was sitting beside Draco. “It’ll be good to get out and stretch our legs. We could even get fish and chips on the way home.”
“An afternoon listening to my two wonderful, brilliant boys talking ten to the dozen about their favourite scaly monsters?” Draco grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”