edgewareroad: (TiRN.)
[personal profile] edgewareroad
Author: [livejournal.com profile] edgewareroad with extensive moral support from [livejournal.com profile] clovermews.
Disclaimer: In my dreams, I own the Malfoys. In reality, they are J.K. R-Dawg's.
Pairing/Characters: Scorpius/Albus, Draco.
Notes: Scorpius talks to Draco after the Meet-the-Parents at the Manor. (Belongs somewhere after this thread .)
Rating: PG-13 pretty much exclusively for language. We all know Scorpius has a mouth.


Scorpius turns away from the fireplace in the drawing room as Al disappears into the green flames. He can feel his face flushing with anger now that Al can’t see him. It’s not like bringing his boyfriend to dinner had been Scorpius’s own fucking idea, and Al certainly hadn’t asked to come. Then why, he wonders, had they sat in silence for an uncomfortable portion of dinner, while his Father looked at Albus through narrowed eyes? Scorpius is tired of the fucked up inner workings of the Malfoy family, but what he actually hates-- what he won’t allow-- is for Al to be dragged into them.

He thinks about simply retreating to his room and not speaking to them at all, but in the end, he can’t bring himself to do it. He wants them to like him. In spite of the drama and the dinner, he just wants them to like Al so badly that he can feel it like an ache even through his anger.

So he trudges back to the Dining Room, only to find his Father sitting alone, unmoved since Scorpius had excused himself to walk Al to the floo. Draco looks up when he when his son enters the room.

“I want to speak to you,” he says in a gruff voice.

“Really?” answers Scorpius, just this side of insolent, but he throws himself into the chair across from his Father.

No speaking actually occurs. Draco merely looks at him. Scorpius actually grits his teeth against everything he wants to say. It won’t help his case. Not in the slightest. He would feel better, certainly, but his Father hates his displays of temper.

Finally, though, Scorpius can take it no longer. Careful to keep he tone even, he bites out, “Why did you ask me to invite him if you weren’t going to speak to him?”

Draco swallows. He looks lost in thought as he responds, “He looks so much like his Father.”

“Yes, well. He’s not his Father. He’s my boyfriend,” Scorpius snaps.

Draco looks at him almost pleadingly. Scorpius merely glares back.

“Do you know how easy it is for you to become the villain here?” Draco asks in a quiet voice. “If you break up, if he get injured playing backyard quidditch? Then everything we ever wanted for you, everything you’ve worked for and put up with means nothing.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t let it happen,” Scorpius responds immediately, willing him to understand. But how can he? Scorpius never let Al into his parents’ lives, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

“You don’t know that,” Draco cautions.

“Yes, I do,” says Scorpius seriously, locking eyes with his Father. “I’ve spent every day with him since we were eleven years old. I trust him more that I trust myself.”

“Never do that, Scorpius.”

Scorpius stands and walks over to the Dining Room windows. He’s frustrated but knows he cannot blame his Father, knows that wouldn’t be quite fair. Instead, he watches as a peacock makes its way along the top of one of the high hedges, flexing his fingers and taking deep breaths.

“You can’t believe that someone could see me for who I actually am,” Scorpius says finally, and it’s not an accusation. He walks over to where Draco is now standing beside the table.

“Father, you have to understand. I’m asking you to understand. He’s the only person who’s ever looked at me and seen more than this,” Scorpius manages a bit desperately, taking his Father’s left forearm in his hand.

Draco actually flinches, and it twists something in Scorpius’s chest.

“I’m grateful for everything you and Mother did, because I needed to be sheltered. I understand that now, but I don’t need protection from him. He loves me. I’m not telling you this because he said it, and it was sweet, and I wanted to hear it. I’m telling you this because I know it now.”

There is a moment of silence in which Draco seems to be struggling with words before he asks, flatly, “Have you slept with him?”

“That’s none of your b—“

“Scorpius.” It’s Draco’s eyes that make him answer, the concern there and the flash of fear.

“Yes.”

“And are you being—“

Scorpius cuts him short. “He’s never—“ Scorpius finds that he can’t quite bring himself to say it. “With anyone else. Neither have I.”

Draco nods without looking at him.

“This isn’t me rebelling. I know what it looks like. I didn’t set out to date Harry Potter’s son. It’s not about that, and it’s not about image. I--” Scorpius’s throat becomes too tight, and he chokes on his own words.

His father’s expression changes, and Scorpius cannot read it. “Alright, Scorpius,” says Draco gently. “Alright.”

Scorpius cannot stop himself. “I’m gay, Father,” he says and hates that it sounds like a plea, hates that he can’t stop the tears from falling now when he’s been so strong.

Draco wraps his arms around Scorpius’s shoulders. “

I know,” he says. Scorpius can tell by his voice that he is crying, too.
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