Chapter Text
A firm grip on his shoulder told him it was time.
The small blond child took one last glance at the platform with its strange oval-shaped metallic trains and people holding odd little devices that lit up at the touch of a finger, before pushing forwards towards the wall and falling through it.
As if by magic, they found themselves in an almost identical parallel station, only much smaller and filled with hundreds of cloaked witches and wizards all trying to board the large deep red steam train that was standing proud and ready to leave for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at eleven o’clock. The boy turned around to glance up at his father who was wearing an unreadable expression as he peered around the platform.
“Much busier than I remember,” he murmured, and more for himself if anything, he gave his son another reaffirming squeeze on the shoulder.
Scorpius tried to offer him an assuring smile in return but found he couldn’t whilst his lip was trembling and he was trying hard not to make a run back towards the exit. His mother, Astoria, seemed to notice and leant down to place a kiss on his cheek.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” she breathed so that only he could hear, “it wouldn’t be half as exciting if it wasn’t.”
“I-I’m not nervous...,” he lied knowing his mother would be able to read right through him, and gave her a shaky grin in return. As he did, he saw past her waist and spotted a very familiar face.
“Dad!” he cried with delight. “Dad, look it’s Harry Potter!” He pulled on his mother’s sleeve to get her to turn around.
To his confusion, he found their reactions to be nothing that he would have expected. Astoria reached out for her husband’s hand and ran her fingers over his, trying to soothe, Scorpius guessed, the anxious expression on his face. Draco hummed quietly and looked back down at his son, whose resemblance to him was uncanny – if a little more pretty.
“So it is, Scorpius,” he smiled softly, patting the blond’s head with fondness. A chime rang out across the platform signalling a five minute warning and they all turned to look at each other. In silence, Draco helped Scorpius lift his trunk onto the train and placed his small black owl in a separate compartment.
“You be good son, won’t you?” he asked, knowing his boy and knowing the answer to be ‘yes’. Sometimes he wondered how he managed to create such a gentle loving son, when his past had been so full of hate.
“’Course I will,” Scorpius said, reaching up to give his father a hug and then his mother. “I’ll write to you...”
Astoria smiled kindly. “We look forward to it.”
They were a family of little words and subtle meanings. With the lingering memory of his mother smiling Scorpius sucked in a deep breath trying to work up his courage and turned to step onto the train.