Draco Malfoy stood at the window of his study, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The weight of loss bore heavily on his shoulders, a relentless reminder of Astoria's absence. His heart, once filled with love, now simmered with an unyielding bitterness. "Why did it have to be this way?" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper against the silence of the room.

Scorpius cradled Desdemona in his arms, his heart brimming with a fierce protectiveness. He rocked her gently, the cadence of his movements matching the rhythm of the lullaby. "You're safe with me, Mona," he whispered, his love for his sister an unwavering beacon amidst the darkness surrounding them.

Scorpius, with Desdemona perched happily on his shoulders, navigated the winding paths with ease. Her laughter rang out, a bright counterpoint to the somber atmosphere of the manor. "Look, Mona, the flowers are greeting us," he exclaimed, pointing to a cluster of daisies swaying in the breeze.

Draco sat at the head of the table, his eyes flitting to Desdemona, who sat beside Scorpius. The sight of her stirred a tempest of emotions within him, a turmoil he struggled to suppress. "She doesn't belong," he thought, his mind a tumult of grief and anger.

"Father, Mona is not to blame," Scorpius declared, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. Draco turned away, the shadows of the past clouding his judgment. "You don't understand, Scorpius," he replied, his tone a blend of sorrow and frustration.

Scorpius, with Desdemona nestled against him, sat on the stone steps leading to the gardens. The silence of the night enveloped them, a quiet promise of the bond they would always share. "We'll find our way, Mona," he vowed, his words a testament to the love that defied the shadows of their father's sorrow.