Draco went down the Hall to Scorpius' room, more nervous than he would like to let on. It was one thing to know your father had been a Death Eater, but another entirely to live with those memories, with Voldemort, with Bellatrix and the missions and his countless failures and with Azkaban. Not to mention knowing quite intimately what he and Harry had been up to lately. Still, Scorpius was strong, and Draco was selfishly glad that if his darkest moments had to be shared with someone they were shared with his adult child who he loved and trusted above almost anyone else.
He knocked on his sons door and waited, wanting to give him a chance to pull himself together if he was having a harder time than his journal response had let on.