Fic: Conversations on Platform 9 and 3/4ths
Title: Conversations on Platform 9 and 3/4ths
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ≈1,000
Pairing(s): Theodore/Draco, mentions of Theodore/Tracey, Tracey/Blaise, and Draco/Astoria
Warning(s): Mild adultery.
Summary: After years apart, Theo and Draco meet each other on Platform 9 and 3/4ths, waiting to bring their children home for winter holidays.
A/N: DH canon-compliant, including the epilogue. (I know, I know). Written with blossomslut in mind- I hesitate to say for her only because I cannot possibly do her Draco justice. But I tried. A Christmas present of sorts, anyway.
A/N 2: This isn't Draco/Blaise friendly in the slightest, Cat, so read at your own risk.
“Some trick you pulled,” Draco says dryly. “War ends, you skip out of the country to Merlin-knows-where without a word to anyone, then creep back to Britain, shut everyone out of the Estate wards, marry Tracey and start working for the bloody Department of Mysteries, and that’s the first anyone hears of you.”
“Blaise never could be counted on to keep his mouth shut,” Theo remarks coolly. “I presume that’s how you found out, anyway.”
“It was.” Draco pauses briefly. “You know that he and Tracey had a... well, something.”
Theo’s lips quirk wryly. “They still do. I get called away for an assignment, the children are at school, she sends him an owl. When I get back she’s waiting, I get a hug, a kiss hello, I’m glad you’re safe, and the next day Blaise and I carry on as if he hasn’t spent the last week fucking my wife.” He shrugs. “It’s a well-practiced illusion.”
Draco glances at him narrowly. “And you don’t mind?”
“What, am I about to object to her wanting sex? Merlin knows she isn’t getting it from me.”
Draco nearly smiles. “I had wondered. And the children?”
“She’s a Healer, there are ways. And you of all people ought to know intimately that Trace isn’t exactly to my taste, no matter how much I care for her.”
“Indeed. Not exactly a secret that you’re bent, Theo.”
Theo elbows him lightly. “I’m not the only one. But you managed a family just fine yourself, from what I hear.”
“Your Gryffindor,” Draco says, “is a terrible influence on Scorpius.”
Theo can’t quite hide a smirk. “I can’t believe you named the boy Scorpius.”
“How do you know Astoria didn’t? Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with the name Scorpius.”
A pointed, withering look. “You named him, don’t play games. Were you just hoping he would be nicknamed Score, or what? You’d think being called Draco would have taken the charm away from pretentious names for you.”
“There is nothing wrong with Scorpius or Draco, Nott,” he says tightly, scowling, and Theo smiles, suddenly and unexpectedly- his smiles are always unexpected, and they make it difficult to stay annoyed with him for long.
“Draco,” Theo murmurs fondly, “you’re so easy.”
“Lies,” Draco answers automatically, absently. “Why are you here, anyway? Tracey’s usually the one with your brood at the station. She’s all right, I trust.”
“Charlotte asked me to come, and by asked I mean demanded.” Theo pauses. “As to Trace,” he adds, his tone a bit too neutral, “I’ve barely seen her the whole month, so your guess is probably as good as mine.”
“Too long between assignments?” Draco says; the jab has crossed his lips before he’s thought about it, but Theo gives no real reaction.
“Doubtful. I’m gone all the time, out of the house if not out of the country, and her hours aren’t exactly forgiving, either. She’s been wrapped up in some research that would doubtless be fascinating if I had any idea what she’s on about when she gets technical.”
“Idiot.”
“I know.”
Theo’s excessive self-awareness always took a lot of the fun out of chiding him, really. For a long moment, they are silent.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
A pause. “Leave. Marry her. Avoid all of us. All of it, everything.”
Theo lets out a breath and looks away, turning his gaze to the train tracks. “These are exactly the questions I never wanted to answer.” He is silent for a moment. “I left because there was nothing for me here, then. I came back because there was nothing for me anywhere else, and Trace was as good a reason as any to stay anywhere. Britain doesn’t mean anything to me. And you... you changed a lot, in sixth year, in seventh, but I... I’ve always been bitter.” Theo’s voice drops, becomes difficult to hear over the clamour of the people on the platform. “I wasn’t ready to come back to a man I didn’t know, I... I wasn’t ready to take that chance. Better to be forgotten than rejected.”
“Idiot,” Draco snaps, sharper this time, and he tangles his fingers into Theo’s hair and kisses him hard on the mouth. He can feel Theo startle, then melt, can feel the soft exhalation against his lips and the way Theo’s hands catch hold of his coat to pull him in closer.
The train whistle sounds, and they break apart; Draco’s eyes are difficult to read, but there are cracks in Theo’s mask. He looks startled, and young in ways he never was; his fingers are at his lips, and for a long, stretched moment he just looks at Draco, breaths still coming fast and turning to fog in the cold December air.
He does not look away until the children come rushing up; Scorpius is taking his time, and Draco has the luxury of a moment to watch Theo and his daughters- he has met all four girls in the past, but he’s never seen them with him. Charlotte, the eldest and a Gryffindor almost to a fault has promptly flung her arms around him, grinning, soon joined by Alanna, the youngest; Theo slips easily into a warm smile that Draco cannot for the life of him decide if it is a mask or not. Desdemona is tapping her foot and rolling her eyes at her sisters, and quiet Melanie waits until the other two are out of the way before approaching and wrapping her arms around Theo. “Missed you,” she tells him softly, ignoring the eager chatter of the others, and Theo smooths down her hair and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “Missed you too. You girls have all your things? Your mother said she’d be home in time to meet you.”
A chorus of impatient affirmatives, and Theo turns, hesitates. “Draco...”
“Go on, Nott,” he says, just as Scorpius finally deigns to amble over, “go home to your wife.”
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ≈1,000
Pairing(s): Theodore/Draco, mentions of Theodore/Tracey, Tracey/Blaise, and Draco/Astoria
Warning(s): Mild adultery.
Summary: After years apart, Theo and Draco meet each other on Platform 9 and 3/4ths, waiting to bring their children home for winter holidays.
A/N: DH canon-compliant, including the epilogue. (I know, I know). Written with blossomslut in mind- I hesitate to say for her only because I cannot possibly do her Draco justice. But I tried. A Christmas present of sorts, anyway.
A/N 2: This isn't Draco/Blaise friendly in the slightest, Cat, so read at your own risk.
“Some trick you pulled,” Draco says dryly. “War ends, you skip out of the country to Merlin-knows-where without a word to anyone, then creep back to Britain, shut everyone out of the Estate wards, marry Tracey and start working for the bloody Department of Mysteries, and that’s the first anyone hears of you.”
“Blaise never could be counted on to keep his mouth shut,” Theo remarks coolly. “I presume that’s how you found out, anyway.”
“It was.” Draco pauses briefly. “You know that he and Tracey had a... well, something.”
Theo’s lips quirk wryly. “They still do. I get called away for an assignment, the children are at school, she sends him an owl. When I get back she’s waiting, I get a hug, a kiss hello, I’m glad you’re safe, and the next day Blaise and I carry on as if he hasn’t spent the last week fucking my wife.” He shrugs. “It’s a well-practiced illusion.”
Draco glances at him narrowly. “And you don’t mind?”
“What, am I about to object to her wanting sex? Merlin knows she isn’t getting it from me.”
Draco nearly smiles. “I had wondered. And the children?”
“She’s a Healer, there are ways. And you of all people ought to know intimately that Trace isn’t exactly to my taste, no matter how much I care for her.”
“Indeed. Not exactly a secret that you’re bent, Theo.”
Theo elbows him lightly. “I’m not the only one. But you managed a family just fine yourself, from what I hear.”
“Your Gryffindor,” Draco says, “is a terrible influence on Scorpius.”
Theo can’t quite hide a smirk. “I can’t believe you named the boy Scorpius.”
“How do you know Astoria didn’t? Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with the name Scorpius.”
A pointed, withering look. “You named him, don’t play games. Were you just hoping he would be nicknamed Score, or what? You’d think being called Draco would have taken the charm away from pretentious names for you.”
“There is nothing wrong with Scorpius or Draco, Nott,” he says tightly, scowling, and Theo smiles, suddenly and unexpectedly- his smiles are always unexpected, and they make it difficult to stay annoyed with him for long.
“Draco,” Theo murmurs fondly, “you’re so easy.”
“Lies,” Draco answers automatically, absently. “Why are you here, anyway? Tracey’s usually the one with your brood at the station. She’s all right, I trust.”
“Charlotte asked me to come, and by asked I mean demanded.” Theo pauses. “As to Trace,” he adds, his tone a bit too neutral, “I’ve barely seen her the whole month, so your guess is probably as good as mine.”
“Too long between assignments?” Draco says; the jab has crossed his lips before he’s thought about it, but Theo gives no real reaction.
“Doubtful. I’m gone all the time, out of the house if not out of the country, and her hours aren’t exactly forgiving, either. She’s been wrapped up in some research that would doubtless be fascinating if I had any idea what she’s on about when she gets technical.”
“Idiot.”
“I know.”
Theo’s excessive self-awareness always took a lot of the fun out of chiding him, really. For a long moment, they are silent.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
A pause. “Leave. Marry her. Avoid all of us. All of it, everything.”
Theo lets out a breath and looks away, turning his gaze to the train tracks. “These are exactly the questions I never wanted to answer.” He is silent for a moment. “I left because there was nothing for me here, then. I came back because there was nothing for me anywhere else, and Trace was as good a reason as any to stay anywhere. Britain doesn’t mean anything to me. And you... you changed a lot, in sixth year, in seventh, but I... I’ve always been bitter.” Theo’s voice drops, becomes difficult to hear over the clamour of the people on the platform. “I wasn’t ready to come back to a man I didn’t know, I... I wasn’t ready to take that chance. Better to be forgotten than rejected.”
“Idiot,” Draco snaps, sharper this time, and he tangles his fingers into Theo’s hair and kisses him hard on the mouth. He can feel Theo startle, then melt, can feel the soft exhalation against his lips and the way Theo’s hands catch hold of his coat to pull him in closer.
The train whistle sounds, and they break apart; Draco’s eyes are difficult to read, but there are cracks in Theo’s mask. He looks startled, and young in ways he never was; his fingers are at his lips, and for a long, stretched moment he just looks at Draco, breaths still coming fast and turning to fog in the cold December air.
He does not look away until the children come rushing up; Scorpius is taking his time, and Draco has the luxury of a moment to watch Theo and his daughters- he has met all four girls in the past, but he’s never seen them with him. Charlotte, the eldest and a Gryffindor almost to a fault has promptly flung her arms around him, grinning, soon joined by Alanna, the youngest; Theo slips easily into a warm smile that Draco cannot for the life of him decide if it is a mask or not. Desdemona is tapping her foot and rolling her eyes at her sisters, and quiet Melanie waits until the other two are out of the way before approaching and wrapping her arms around Theo. “Missed you,” she tells him softly, ignoring the eager chatter of the others, and Theo smooths down her hair and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “Missed you too. You girls have all your things? Your mother said she’d be home in time to meet you.”
A chorus of impatient affirmatives, and Theo turns, hesitates. “Draco...”
“Go on, Nott,” he says, just as Scorpius finally deigns to amble over, “go home to your wife.”