It goes without saying that I had no idea what I was doing. 'How to be a Decent Parent 101' is not an offered course at Hogwarts. However, there were ways around the utter terrorizing fear of screwing up so bad that your child is completely damaged or deranged.

For example, if he didn't want to eat his baby food (which looked completely disgusting so I can't say I blame him), a simple transfiguration charm (he especially liked when I turned the pureé into the shape of a Romanian Longhorn dragon) would usually do the trick.

If he wouldn't sleep, lullabies more often than not helped.

And, whenever there was a thunderstorm (he hated thunderstorms, and would cry immediately, gripping his blanket in his little hands) the only thing I found diverted his attention was producing a patronus.

I don't know why I decided to give it a try, but it worked. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the swirling fox prancing around the room, his little eyes widened with small giggles, forgetting all about the thunder and lightning outside.

However, the real reason I didn't completely fail at being a mother was simply because he was an exceedingly easy child. Sure, he cried and misbehaved sometimes as an infant, but it was rare. He was happy and calm and wonderful, and he stayed that way.

One morning, when he was just about eleven months old, I was sending a banana pureé Swedish Short-Snout around his highchair tray, and Draco sat down. "My mother just sent an owl and she --" he began, when he was interrupted.

"Da-Da,"

Draco and I stared at each other, mouths open, and shot our heads to the side to look at Scorpius. He was giggling, reaching out his hand toward Draco.

We stared at each other again. After a long, frozen pause, Draco said, "OhmyGod, OH MY GOD DID HE JUST. . . ?"

I nodded excitedly.

Draco knelt down beside the highchair. "Oh my God, that's me! THAT'S ME!" He said to Scorpius. Scorpius looked a little confused, but started giggling again when Draco ran a hand through his hair and kept repeating "THAT'S ME!"

I knelt down too, and said, "Who is that?" pointing toward Draco. He was still giggling, reaching out for my pointed finger. "Who's that?" I said again.

He stopped giggling, and said, now looking directly at Draco. "Da-da?"

I squealed, and Draco took him up in his arms, raising him up in the air. "Yes! That's me!" He looked at me, and said, a frantic excitement in his eyes. "HE KNOWS ME!"

I shook his arm happily, nodding.

Later that night, when Draco was getting ready for bed, I sat Scorpius down on my lap.

"Okay, now Scorpius, who am I?"

He looked at me blankly.

"I'm Ma-ma." I enunciated the word, eyes wide.

He still stared at me blankly.

"Come on, MA-MA." That time I enunciated it so dramatically my jaw clicked a little.

He said some baby-mumble talk, and my shoulders fell. "You can say Da-da but not Ma-ma? I'm around you more often, I'm the one that feeds you most often, the one that deals with more dirty diapers," I muttered.

Then he looked up. "Da-da!" He said, clapping his tiny hands together.

"No, Ma-ma!" I said, but then heard Draco snickering behind me.

I turned around to see him leaning smugly against the door jamb. "Whatcha' doing?"

I cleared my throat. "Uh, nothing. You know, just getting him ready for bed, that's all."

"Mh," he said, still smirking. "You're jealous he said my name before your's, aren't you?"

"Pfft, what? Uh, no. No, of course I'm not, why would I be. . . ."

He nodded mockingly.

"Okay, fine. But come on, he-but -- yes." I rolled my eyes reluctantly.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "What can I say? It's hard being the favorite parent."

I crossed my arms. "Mh, yeah, I'm sure."

He shrugged, and said sarcastically, "Well, maybe one day you'll attain this level of perfect-parenting."

"Hm. Go to bed."

"Best parent of the year."

"Go to bed before I hex you."

"Witch Weekly's Number One Father. . ." he said, walking out of Scorpius' room.

I held Scorpius in my arms and said to him, "Your father is delusional."

"Heard that!"

* * *

Other than all the amazing bits, there was one drop of poison, one sickening fact; having Scorpius weakened me substantially. The lead limbs and lightheadedness I'd felt in the hospital were only signs of what was to come, unfortunately.

I tried as best I could to brush it off, to overcome it all, but whatever weakness or pain I'd felt before was multiplied. From little things; my skin being a shade paler, my face a bit bonier, to bigger things; I was coughing up blood almost once a week, the smallest exertions like carrying the laundry basket around or -- what really disturbed me -- holding Scorpius for too long, made my arms feel like jelly and knees wobbly.

I hated myself for it. How could I feel this way, wilt like this, when I had so much to live for? So much I wanted to be around for?

I was determined to ignore it, forget about it, drive it from my mind. Because maybe if I wasn't thinking about it, wasn't registering it, then maybe I could override it, outwit it for a while, tricking it into submission.

Maybe. Maybe that could work.