Work Text:
Vintage tee, brand new phone
High heels on cobblestones
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
~`~
Scorpius had been just under three the first time he really took in the flowers, bright and colorful and blooming, on Draco’s arm. A long ago sketch made reality by Astoria, hiding the painful reminder of a mad man that cursed Draco into his father’s servitude.
“Pwetty,” said Scorpius in the early morning light, he was in Draco’s arms, his mop of white blond curls in his eyes but that didn’t stop them roaming over Draco’s bare arms and chest. He reached out, touching the black lines so thin they were the only marker of a change in the design. “Mama pwetty.”
Scorpius knew how to walk and run, he could hold on tight to his toy broom and zip around the countryside where they lived, but he only had a handful of words that were understandable. Mama, dada, pwetty, and twuck, were just a few of the words they could actually decipher, and it was even harder in the early morning before tea or coffee and some toast.
“Mama is pretty,” agreed Draco, even though he knew that wasn’t what his son meant. Astoria had her own tattoos, their son’s constellation was on her arm, small pinpricks of white ink connected by the thinnest of white lines, Scorpius. She also had a few blooming flowers of her own, hidden on her inner thigh, a spot just for Draco and only Draco.
What Scorpius actually meant, was for Astoria to know that the flowers she had designed and drawn and later traced all over Draco’s arm, were pretty. He wanted to show his mama the beauty of the world, often finding anything bright and colorful to show her, whether it was a rock or flower or even just the snow that was starting to fall outside.
Astoria hummed, her voice soft and light as she reached over, taking Scorpius from Draco’s arms and away from the flowers that hid the violence forced onto an ignorant teenager. She held him up towards the ceiling, letting the little sleep shirt ride up and show off his chubby stomach where she blew a raspberry into before holding him to her chest.
Scorpius would fall asleep in her arms after a few sips of milky tea and a handful of bites of toast with butter and too much jam, the only way Astoria ever took her tea and toast. He would sleep in her arms, his little head resting against her shoulder, smearing strawberry jam on her nightgown before the three of them ended back up bed together.
Some mornings, Draco wished that Scorpius slept in his own bed, but this was the kind of morning that he wanted to hold his wife and son close to him and never let them go.
“He doesn’t know and he won’t understand,” whispered Astoria later, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, her head resting on his chest, over his heart.
“He’ll have to know someday,” Draco told her, tucking a loose curl back behind her ear and seeing their son’s forehead and lips on her face. Their son had the Malfoy curse of looking like their father, but with that came the inheritance of the Black family nose and high cheekbones, Scorpius was going to be a heartbreaker as he grew older.
~`~
But I knew you
Playing hide-and-seek and
Giving me your weekends, I
I knew you
Your heartbeat on the High Line
Once in twenty lifetimes, I
~`~
Draco wanted to tell Scorpius his story, his son was six, still so young, but he had just lost his sister and nearly lost his mother. He was still so small, so young, but already he held onto a haunting trauma that could break him.
“He’s still a child,” whispered Astoria, her body wrapped around Scorpius’s, her frame already not much bigger than their son’s. “He doesn’t need any more scars right now Draco.”
“One sadness can break another Astoria,” said Draco, turning and looking out the window in their bedroom. He remembered the night Scorpius had gone to his bedroom and stayed there the whole night, how he had woken up the next morning with a feeling of longing and sadness in his stomach because his son wasn’t asleep between him and Astoria. Scorpius came to their bed less and less, but sometimes scary noises in the night or bad dreams had him scrambling into their bed and the space between his parents.
“When the time is right,” said Astoria, gently brushing her fingers through Scorpius’s curly bangs, he needed a haircut again, “we’ll tell him. We’ll sit down and do it properly.”
Draco felt the phantom burn of the hidden scar on his arm, it ached sometimes when he remembered the war, the pain. Sometimes the scars of the horrible cuts that had once ripped him open ached too and Astoria would find and kiss each of them, reminding him that he was safe now.
He laid down with them, feeling his wife’s cool fingers as they traced the lines of scars along his chest and neck. She knew the connecting sharp shape of each scar, she used to draw stars around them and Draco felt his body bleed and ache with the love he wanted and needed to give her.
He kissed Scorpius’s forehead, taking in his unblemished skin, no scars, no visible pain on his tiny body. He was a beautiful child, the very best of Astoria always shined through him.
“Six is just too young,” whispered Astoria, and Draco wondered why his own parents hadn’t thought of that, thought of him like this. At six he was being taught that he was better than anyone else, anyone that wasn’t pureblood was to be seen as nothing and treated even less than nothing. “You should want better than what you were taught.”
Draco grabbed her hand, pulling her always cool fingers to his mouth and kissing her fingertips. He knew that his son was better than everything he had ever been taught.
~`~
To kiss in cars and downtown bars
Was all we needed
You drew stars around my scars
But now I'm bleedin'
~`~
“Dad, why did mum give you flowers?”
Draco didn’t say anything as he held his son, he hated moving into the manor and bringing his family along with him. But now especially that his father was gone, he had to take on the role as head of the family, but he didn’t want to be like his father.
“Dad?”
“You know the scar on your grandfather’s arm?” asked Draco, gently touching the hidden Dark Mark on his own arm. “The skull and snake?”
“Yeah,” said Scorpius, pulling away and sitting up in the bed, he looked so tired, his young face so down and sad. Funerals weren’t fun, and they were in the aftermath of one that had meant nothing to them, though the mark his grandfather had left on Scorpius was almost completely gone.
“I have the same mark on my arm, but your mum drew flowers over it all the time and I made it permeant,” explained Draco, and Scorpius nodded as he touched one of the flowers on his forearm. “She helped me move on from that part of my past.”
Scorpius was quiet and Draco felt anxious as his son traced the flowers on his arms, his fingers soft and gentle like Astoria’s always were, but not cold. Scorpius was such a sweet boy, he was kind and funny and gentle, he loved deeply and honestly, and even as a newborn Draco knew that his son was going to be the best of the Malfoy family.
He was going to bring them honor again, going to make their name mean something good and honest again.
“Grandpa hit me, mum knew,” whispered Scorpius, tears suddenly coming to his eyes, and Draco pulled him in close to him again. “Did mummy kill him?”
Draco had paced the bedroom while Astoria had snuck into his father’s sickroom and slipped him the poison that stopped his heart. He had taken the opera gloves that Astoria had worn and burned them in the fireplace, before snogging his wife as a thank you for saving their son from the cruelty of his father’s anger.
They should’ve killed him when he tried to kill Astoria and had killed their daughter.
“No,” lied Draco and Scorpius nodded as he wiped at his eyes. “Grandpa was sick, that’s how he died.”
He climbed out of bed and went to his and Astoria’s closet, pulling out the worn sweater his Aunt Andromeda gave him for Christmas a few years before she passed. He threw it over to Scorpius, he used to wear the sweater a lot back when they lived in the cottage, it was always a little drafty and he needed something warm to wear.
“Here, put this on Prince, let’s go find mum,” said Draco, and Scorpius scrambled to put on the old worn down cardigan.
Draco put his hand on Scorpius’s shoulder, leading him out of the bedroom and away from the comfort of his bed. He still missed the nights that Scorpius would crawl into bed with him and Astoria, though since they had moved into the manor, he had been spending more time in his and Astoria’s bedroom than before.
The manor still haunted Draco on his worst nights, he could hear the screams of torture coming from the basement, from wherever his Aunt Bellatrix decided to curve her appetite for screaming. The manor was full of ghosts, full of anger and sadness and fear. It was the last place that he ever wanted his son to grow up.
“Here are my two favorite people,” said Astoria, pulling Scorpius into her arms and Draco wished that their son wasn’t nearly the same height as his wife. Scorpius was growing up too fast. “Draco, darling why do you look so upset? Scorpius why is your father looking so sad?”
“Grandpa died?” said Scorpius, though it was more of a question than anything else as Astoria pulled him in close and kissed his forehead.
“Are we that upset?” mumbled Astoria, looking at Draco as she gently covered their son’s ears. “Seriously Draco?”
Draco didn’t say anything as he took her left arm and pressed his fingers to her forearm, letting her know what they had really been talking about. Scorpius didn’t need to know all of the little details yet, but he did need to know why it was important that they changed, that Draco had changed.
~`~
But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss
I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
The smell of smoke would hang around this long
'Cause I knew everything when I was young
~`~
Scorpius was fifteen when he fell in love, fifteen and stupid and hopelessly in love with a Weasley girl. Draco hated the fact that he liked Rose Weasley before he knew who her parents were, but it was just his luck. Even after two years of their relationship, he had to stubbornly admit that he absolutely adored her.
It was actually more Scorpius’s luck, because Draco was stubborn and stupid still at his age, but Ron and Hermione Weasley were determined to look beyond their childhood rivalry for their children. It was something that Draco could begrudgingly accept of them even if it was hard to for himself.
“Scorpius,” said Draco, tightening his hand on his son’s shoulder so he didn’t run off at the sight of Rose. He couldn’t blame his son, Rose was quite adorable and she was smart and funny and charming, which only annoyed Draco in who her parents were more. “Is she wearing your sweater?”
Scorpius made a noise, and Draco rolled his eyes before releasing his son and watching him run off to Rose. She was wearing the old cardigan that Draco had given Scorpius after his dad died, and even though it just meant that he was growing up, it was a lot to accept.
“We knew this was going to happen someday,” said Astoria, and Draco nodded as he thought of how little his son was the first time he wrapped Scorpius up in that old cardigan. He remembered how warm his body had been against his own, so light while his heart fluttered with each little breath, with every yawn and annoyed little huff.
Back then he had been untouched, so little and safe, no scars or anything in the world to hurt him. Back then when he fit perfectly in their arms and slept between him and Astoria, so sweet and cute. Back then before he was anything but their little boy, their little Prince.
“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” said Rose, smiling at them as she pulled on Scorpius’s arm, “I brought Scorpius back to say goodbye, we can catch up on the train.”
She kissed Scorpius’s cheek before running off to her own parents, and Draco hated how much he actually adored her.
Scorpius just smiled after her, watching her disappear into the crowd and Draco rolled his eyes, remembering when he would look at Astoria like that. He knew that he still looked after like that, but it looked so funny on his son.
“Just make it back to us at the end,” said Astoria, grabbing Scorpius’s shoulder and pulling him down to her height. Scorpius closed his eyes as Astoria kissed his forehead, a warm feeling that Draco knew well and loved deeply. “We love you Prince.”
“I love you mum,” whispered Scorpius, before turning to Draco, “you too dad, don’t worry.”
“Too late,” Draco told him, pulling him in and hugging him tightly, “we love you so much.”
~`~
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite