Draco's Veela Side (Drarry)

The child- Scorbus Muggle AU

A/N
Huge trigger warning here- Albus is taking care of his nephew who has been SAed.

So, why was I walking around college with a child in my arms?
Good question!
This was my nephew. Who was, as of now, my responsibility. It's a long story.

My brother, James, and his girlfriend, Feenai, both passed away a year ago. Hurts like a bitch still. One night, whilst seventeen year old me was playing with a three year old child at my parents house, they both got pissed and played on the traintracks. Just like me and James did as a kid.
But the old ones we played on were abandoned. James, in his drunken state, must have gotten them confused. The ones he played on with Feenai were very much still active. I remember we told each other as kids that one day we'd get drunk in the future and take our future partners there. That's what killed him, living out his word.
At the age of sixteen, he knew I was gay. I was eleven. We'd been close as shit. I was seventeen when he died. He'd been 22 with a three year old child. And that child went to his uncle. Not me. Feinna's brother.
This was because I was underage. My parents had no room for him. She didn't communicate to her parents. And he was his godfather. He stopped my family seeing him that whole year he had him in his custody.
And a year later, that all stopped. We could see him again. His girlfriend had called the police on him.
Why?
Because she walked in and found him pinning a naked three year old screaming boy to the wall. Fucking disgusting pig. It angers mejust thinking about him. I could have had him. I could have beaten him up like mad. I took boxing after James died to get out my anger. And now? Knowing this sick twat had hurt my nephew?
He was took to prison. My parents were asked if they wanted custody. They had no room or money for another person, as much as it hurt them. They tried. They really had tried to make it through, my dad demanding he wasn't sent to a children's home. So, although I was attending college, I did the only thing a loving uncle with an apartment and a part-time job could do.
I took him in. My parents praise me for it, giving me every coin they can spare for him. But that's my nephew. All I have left of my brother. I'd hate myself everyday if I didn't take him in, and I hated myself everyday for not finding out sooner about what was happening to him. They take care of him whilst I'm at work. My parents, I mean. At college... it depends, really. I sometimes have to take him when my parents can't, and plus, I liked his company. And he was... a quiet human being now. Didn't speak much to anybody. At the age of four now, he could hardly speak much at all. He would hardly meet eye contact. He hardly went near anybody.
Except me. He was clung to me. And he's always been like that, weirdly.

The first time I met my nephew, Tyler, he was one. I know. Me and my brother had stopped speaking just before he was born and I never knew she was pregnant anyway. When I did find out, I demanded me and James put the stupid fight behind us. And we did. And we became close again. And the first time I met Tyler, he squealed, stuck his arms out to me and laughed, as if he already knew me. And I knew I needed him in my life. That year I couldn't see him was the hardest year of my life.
And, since I took him in a week ago, it'd been getting a bit harder. It was hurting, seeing him so different and so reserved now. That stupid arsehole had abused him and made him so... different.

I made room for him in my life. I had to. So now he sleeps on my bed in my apartment and I have the sofa. Yet I don't sleep. No, not really, not recently.
Instead I lay awake and stare at that door, my heart racing in case he'd been released from prison and was coming for Tyler. I knew I could fight, and apparently to my boyfriend I looked really intimidating. I had a resting bitch face and broad shoulders that always looked like I was ready to fight anybody. And I wasn't. I was a shy guy. Unless it involved my family. And now Tyler has made me become more confident and defensive and protective. I was intimidating now. Not to him. To others. I didn't want him hurt again.
If I did finally sleep, Tyler would wake me up with a scream and cry and I'd be up in seconds. A nightmare. He didn't want to give details. A bad, bad nightmare, again, the third time in a row. Either that or he would slowly get out of bed and come shake my shoulders as I lounged on my sofa, one arm hanging off and the other over the top, my legs sprawled and my head almost touching the floor. And he would look away and point in shame to his crotch. He had wet the bed.
I would smile sympathetically and slowly get up.
"It's alright, bud. Uncle will help."
And I would change the sheets and sometimes, when he let me, I'd go to sleep beside him, holding him and making sure he was okay.