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Draco’s at his wits end. It’s been nearly an hour and Scorpius has rejected every single piece of clothing he’s shown him. Not the jeans—they’re too blue, daddy — not the t-shirts that Harry’s taken to wearing around the house—no daddy, they’re too colorful!— not even the button down shirts he’d loved to wear when he’d been trying to model himself after Draco. He hadn’t yet given a reason as to why he didn’t want the shirts, but that’s about as far as Draco was willing to push it.
(He didn’t want to know if his son had stopped wanting to be exactly like his dad at the tender age of five.)
All he wants to do is give it up as a bad job, call Harry and ask him to take over. Why did he think that going shopping alone with Scorpius was going to be a good idea?
He sighs and decides to try again. This time it’s an Iron Man t-shirt, because Scorpius had loved the movie when they went to watch it in the theatre. (Draco had not loved it. In fact, he’d spent most of the movie looking down at the popcorn box in his lap. Which obviously meant that Scorpius demanded that they buy a DVD so that he could watch it over and over again.)
He brings it over to where Scorpius is standing, gazing in awe at the Christmas decorations in the atrium. “Daddy,” he starts, turning back to look at Draco, but his smile quickly falls when he sees what Draco is holding in his arms. “No, Daddy, no, I don’t want to wear that!”
Draco tries for a smile, even though it’s getting rather difficult to pretend he isn’t going to have a breakdown in the middle of a muggle store.
“Why, Scorp? I thought you liked Iron Man.”
“No! No, Daddy, no!” Scorpius is turning red, his mouth squeezed into a thin line. “I don’t want to wear that!”
Draco keeps his voice level. “Why don’t you want to wear it, darling?”
“I don’t want to!” Scorpius looks ready to scream, eyes screwed up tight, cheeks red and bursting. He’s preparing himself for a tantrum and Draco frankly cannot believe he thought this would be an easy trip.
Draco raises his hands up, surrendering. “Okay, okay, honey. We don’t have to get it.”
What would Harry do? Draco wracks his brains for an answer. “Why don’t you show me what you want to wear instead? Pick something out and try it on.”
“No, Daddy!” Draco sighs. And then wishes he hadn’t, because Scorpius continues with, “I can’t, I’m gay!”
What the fuck.
Okay, so Draco really needs to stop saying that when Scorpius can hear him.
He huffs out a quiet “No, Scorpius, you’re not gay.” The lady next to the canned tomatoes is looking at him funny. “I’m gay. You’re five.”
Scorpius still looks mutinous. “But that’s what you say when Papa asks you what you want for dinner and you can’t choose! I can’t choose either, Daddy, so that means I’m gay too!”
“Okay, okay!” Draco placates him, eyes darting around wildly, because although he is very flamboyantly gay, he does not necessarily need it advertised to the entirety of Marks & Spencer’s. It seems too late anyway, judging by the teenage girl looking over at them and laughing silently into her coffee cup.
Draco gives it up as a bad job and places a gentle hand on Scorpius’ shoulder. “Come on then, do you want to look around now, see if you really like something? If you don’t, we’ll come back tomorrow and try again, okay?”
Scorpius looks mildly appeased at that and nods at the first option. He allows Draco to hold his hand as they walk around the aisles, and Draco heaves a sigh (inwardly. He’s not tempting fate again.)
Suddenly, Scorpius lets go of his hand and runs across the boys section, into the fluffy dress section that was clearly designed for little girls who were just getting into the age of tiaras and glitter and gaudy outfits.
“This one, Daddy! This one! I want this pink one!” Scorpius actually looks excited, eyes gleaming and hair bouncing wildly. Draco walks over more sedately, eyes roving over the dresses. His son clearly has better taste than any of the people who designed them, because he’d gone for the most appealing number of the lot.
It’s a shimmery pink dress, fluffed up by layers of petticoats underneath, and has the sweetest little puff sleeves Draco has ever seen. And his little boy looks so happy standing next to it, cheeks flushed.
Draco’s heart melts and then expands with love. Scorpius’ face is lifted toward him eagerly, bouncing on his toes in shivery anticipation.
“Of course,” he says gently, kneeling down on the floor, cupping Scorpius’ face in his hand. “Of course, darling. Let’s go try it out in the dressing room, shall we?”
Scorpius squeals in happiness and grabs the dress eagerly, carrying it over to the small changing room on the side.
Draco’s smile grows, heart filling and expanding with love for his beautiful, amazing, wonderful son. Harry’s going to be so proud of Draco, and Draco only wishes he was here to see Scorpius like this too.
Oh, well. At least he wasn’t there for the.. other incident.
—
(Harry spends ten minutes cackling over the incident. He then ooh’s and ahh’s over Scorpius’ new purchase when he comes down to show it off and hugs his son proudly… and then proceeds to laugh for another ten minutes after that.
Draco doesn’t smile. Not at all. Okay, maybe just a little. Only because he’s still full of that love and affection he felt earlier. Nothing more to it.)