Standard Disclaimer: Nothing = mine.

This is from a Bill Engvall comedy sketch that I applied to Draco. This is to be funny, but it may have come out a bit darker than I intended, haha. =D

-o-o-o-o-

A moment's breath after the boys had first glanced at one another, Draco had known that one day his precious Scorpius and that ill-bred Potter boy were going to become more than "just friends." He may not have bothered to cultivate it through Divinations, but Draco had a bit of a sixth sense about these things, and the shy yet curious smiles the two 11-year-olds shared had made his stomach twist with a foreboding he'd not felt in years.

Salazar help me, he'd thought and could only hope his gut was wrong about this one as he watched with a worried frown when the Hogwart's Express departed that first, fateful day.

Naturally, Draco's intuition was horrifyingly accurate. Only a few years later, Scorpius exited the train for summer holidays with a bright smile, lips glossy red and kiss-swollen, with the Potter brat hot on his heels, wearing a mischievous grin. Draco took in the tousled hair and disheveled robes of both boys and felt the blood boil in his veins.

He's barely 15! His mind screamed. His sweet, innocent, darling little boy was being sullied by that dirty, Weasel-birthed, Potter-sired brat! Of course Scorpius wouldn't stay naïve forever, he'd forced himself to accept that long ago, but this was too soon—way too soon!

Well, Merlin be damned if Draco would sit back and let the corruption (continue to) happen.

So when Scorpius bit his lip and bashfully asked if his "best friend" could stay a week during the holiday, Draco smiled, played dumb, and said, "Of course Albus is welcome to visit," and began plotting a carefully discreet yet sinister threat on the young Potter's life.

When Albus Potter flooed in to their home, it took all of Draco's willpower not to rip the conniving wretch's head off then and there. Not now, he decided, and settled for a firmer-than-necessary handshake that led the demon teenager to wince, the arrogant git's grin to falter. Not now, because threatening with anger now would only incite the insignificant twit's Gryffindor heritage to rebel, and then Draco would have to deal with a scheming snake wielding lion's courage—not to mention an angry Scorpius. No, Draco knew what would be most effective—simple, short, to the frightening point—and merely sat back in wait, biding his time until he could speak to the irritating Potter spawn privately.

The opportunity came after dinner that very evening as the four of them sat in the west parlor to enjoy the sunset. Draco stood to one side of the room, staring out the tall windows across the vast lawns—that was when the fungus approached him, and with animated chatter at that! Trying to get on his good side, no doubt. Draco glanced to where his wife and son were distracted by their own conversation and then smiled darkly. Throwing an arm around the twittering nitwit next to him, he pulled the boy in close, squeezing so hard he could feel the bones shift. The nasty vermin breathed in sharply at the pain and then wide, uncertain eyes were on his instantly. Draco sneered at the quivering fool.

"You see that beautiful boy over there?" Draco asked quietly, indicating Scorpius with a tilt of his head. When the black-haired ogre swallowed nervously and nodded, Draco lowered his voice to a dark rumble and continued. "That's my little boy, my only child. My precious angel. Scorpius is my world, means everything to me, and I intend for nothing to pollute his future."

Here Draco squeezed even harder, making sure the green, fearful eyes were glued to his own. When the boy didn't shift gazes or flinch—too frozen—and only shivered harder, Draco smirked and added his final blow.

"So the next time you think about hugging him, or kissing him, I want you to remember these words: I've got no problem going back to prison."