Fic: Re-Evaluating
Title: Re-Evaluating
Author: alexa_black
Beta: As always, thanks to eidheann_writes!
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Draco
Word Count: just over 1000
Disclaimer: I don’t own Draco or Harry, but one can dream. No money is being made, or ever will be made, off of this story.
Warnings: EWE (I took some liberties with Scorpius)
Summary: "Happiness is not something ready-made. It comes from your own actions." - Dalai Lama
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to Insurmountable. It’d be best, though is by no means necessary, to read that first.
Draco stood still, trying not to fidget with the sleeves of his robe. He would never admit it, but he’d grown accustomed to wearing Muggle suits. Robes were so…fluid. They made him feel vulnerable, exposed, and he hated it. But they were traditional.
He cast his gaze about the glade to take his mind off of his apparel. ‘Mother has outdone herself,’ he thought, hiding a wry smile.
In true Slytherin fashion, everything was done up in shades of green and silver. The modest gathering was seated on benches made from silver birch branches. Small silvery flowers lined the aisle, twinkling in the dying sunlight. The translucent lanterns hanging in the nearby trees held balls of silver fire, a trick he had never coaxed out of his mother.
A simple Enhancement Charm, however, was all she had needed to capitalize on the greenery Spring had brought forth. The glade was resplendent in shades of green too numerous to name. It had been his favorite season; a season of resurrection, renewal, life. A season of second chances.
Now the sight of so much green made his stomach roil, threatening to expel the meager dinner he had consumed.
He couldn’t help analyzing the various shades of green before him and finding them lacking. They were dull, flat, lifeless, when compared to the emerald gaze-
Draco pursed his lips and stared resolutely forward. Astoria’s lips curled up in a smile and he had to fight back a cringe. It was all wrong; it was too demure, too gentle. Too feminine.
‘It should be Harry,’ he thought sadly. ‘He should be the one standing here. Not her.’
As if Summoned by his thoughts, Harry appeared in the aisle not three feet from Draco. He was dressed in black, the green of his eyes standing out in stark relief.
Draco let out a shaky breath, his heart clenching at the sight. ‘He’s here. He came to save me.’
He started to walk forward, away from Astoria, but something in Harry’s expression made him freeze. Where he expected determination, he found only sadness. Profound sadness.
He started to speak but Harry shook his head. “I can’t be in your life knowing that you chose not to be in mine.”
He turned and walked up the aisle.
“No!” Draco tried to shout but the words wouldn’t come. He tried to follow Harry to no avail; his feet were stuck. He frantically searched for the source of his immobility but couldn’t find it. He made to claw at the ground and found himself unable to bend. The more he struggled, the more frozen he became until he felt it closing in, clouding his memory, slowing his heart-
His eyes snapped open. He blinked up at his ceiling. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Reaching under his pillow, he grasped his wand. Dim light filled the room with a simple wave. Draco sat up and held his head in his hands.
Five years.
It had been five years since he had bonded with Astoria.
Five years without Harry.
The dreams started shortly after the ceremony. He had thought they would fade with time. That they would become easier to bear.
They hadn’t.
He swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear the vestiges of the dream.
“Daddy!”
Draco’s body was moving before he realized he’d left his bedroom. He crossed the hall in a few short strides and eased open a bright red door.
The room was dark, the barest hint of moonlight filtering through the curtains. He recognized the floppy ears before soft blue light flared in the house-elf’s hand. He plopped the ball of flame into a jar and placed it on the nightstand. The light illuminated the quivering lump huddled on the corner of the bed.
“Thank you, Tippy,” he murmured with a nod of his head. “I’ll take it from here.”
The house-elf bowed and disappeared with a crack.
The lump uncurled slightly at the sound of Draco’s voice and grey eyes peered up at him. Draco crouched by the side of the bed and ran his hand through fine blonde hair.
“What’s wrong, Scorpius?” he asked gently.
Scorpius shook his head frantically and jammed his thumb in his mouth. Draco smoothed his hair back from his forehead.
“I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong. Did you have a bad dream?”
Eyes wide, he nodded.
“It wasn’t real,” he said soothingly.
“It felt real,” Scorpius mumbled around his thumb. He clutched the blanket tighter, still frightened.
Draco scanned the room, trying to think of a way to help him. He spotted the chest of toys in the corner and grinned. Much to his son’s dismay, he left the side of the bed and picked up a stuffed Crup. He sat on the floor and placed the toy in front of Scorpius.
“When I was your age, I had a lot of bad dreams,” he whispered as if he was sharing a secret. Scorpius stared at him, riveted. “One night, my mother gave me a stuffed dragon. I named him Xander. Does this guy have a name?”
Scorpius shook his head.
“Well, he needs one. What should we call him?”
His face scrunched up in thought. “Frank!” he shouted and beamed up at Draco.
His heart filled with warmth at the look of pride on Scorpius’s face. He returned the smile. “Frank it is.”
He danced the Crup closer to his son, nuzzling his face, before continuing his story.
“My mother told me that every time I had a bad dream, I should tell my dragon. That way, he would know what to look for while I slept and he could keep the bad dreams away. And that’s what Frank will do for you. We’ll make sure Frank is with you when you go to bed and he’ll protect you from the bad dreams. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah!” he exclaimed, hugging the Crup to his chest. He pulled the ear close to his mouth and whispered his dream into it.
Draco smiled indulgently; his heart overflowed with love for the little boy before him. He knew he would do anything to give him the best childhood possible. Scorpius would grow up happy and cherished. He was determined to be the father Lucius had never been, to give his son everything he had missed out on.
One of them should be happy.
Draco ran his hand through Scorpius’s hair one more time before getting up and heading to the door.
“Daddy?”
He turned with his hand on the knob. “Yes?”
“Can we sleep wif you? ‘Cause Frank is just learnin’ and maybe the dream will come back,” he pleaded.
“Of course,” he nodded. He held out his arms and Scorpius ran into them. He carried him across the hall and tucked him under the covers on his own bed. He climbed in next to him and grabbed his wand, waving the door shut and extinguishing the lights.
Scorpius curled up against Draco’s side, Frank squashed between them. He popped his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes. Draco slid further under the covers and wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back.
He stared at the ceiling as Scorpius’s breathing evened out. Pieces of his final conversation with Harry flashed through his consciousness. “You’re an adult, he doesn’t run your life!” Harry had shouted at him. Draco remembered telling him that it wasn’t that simple…but maybe it could be.
He looked down at Scorpius, sleeping peacefully. He would do anything to make him happy.
Maybe it was time he did the same for himself.
***
After breakfast the next morning, Tippy took Scorpius outside to spend time with his grandmother in the garden. Draco walked through the ground floor, searching for his wife. He found her in a rarely used sitting room, reading. He sat in the chair across from her and cleared his throat. He swallowed down his hesitation as she met his gaze.
"Astoria, we need to talk."
Author: alexa_black
Beta: As always, thanks to eidheann_writes!
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Draco
Word Count: just over 1000
Disclaimer: I don’t own Draco or Harry, but one can dream. No money is being made, or ever will be made, off of this story.
Warnings: EWE (I took some liberties with Scorpius)
Summary: "Happiness is not something ready-made. It comes from your own actions." - Dalai Lama
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to Insurmountable. It’d be best, though is by no means necessary, to read that first.
Draco stood still, trying not to fidget with the sleeves of his robe. He would never admit it, but he’d grown accustomed to wearing Muggle suits. Robes were so…fluid. They made him feel vulnerable, exposed, and he hated it. But they were traditional.
He cast his gaze about the glade to take his mind off of his apparel. ‘Mother has outdone herself,’ he thought, hiding a wry smile.
In true Slytherin fashion, everything was done up in shades of green and silver. The modest gathering was seated on benches made from silver birch branches. Small silvery flowers lined the aisle, twinkling in the dying sunlight. The translucent lanterns hanging in the nearby trees held balls of silver fire, a trick he had never coaxed out of his mother.
A simple Enhancement Charm, however, was all she had needed to capitalize on the greenery Spring had brought forth. The glade was resplendent in shades of green too numerous to name. It had been his favorite season; a season of resurrection, renewal, life. A season of second chances.
Now the sight of so much green made his stomach roil, threatening to expel the meager dinner he had consumed.
He couldn’t help analyzing the various shades of green before him and finding them lacking. They were dull, flat, lifeless, when compared to the emerald gaze-
Draco pursed his lips and stared resolutely forward. Astoria’s lips curled up in a smile and he had to fight back a cringe. It was all wrong; it was too demure, too gentle. Too feminine.
‘It should be Harry,’ he thought sadly. ‘He should be the one standing here. Not her.’
As if Summoned by his thoughts, Harry appeared in the aisle not three feet from Draco. He was dressed in black, the green of his eyes standing out in stark relief.
Draco let out a shaky breath, his heart clenching at the sight. ‘He’s here. He came to save me.’
He started to walk forward, away from Astoria, but something in Harry’s expression made him freeze. Where he expected determination, he found only sadness. Profound sadness.
He started to speak but Harry shook his head. “I can’t be in your life knowing that you chose not to be in mine.”
He turned and walked up the aisle.
“No!” Draco tried to shout but the words wouldn’t come. He tried to follow Harry to no avail; his feet were stuck. He frantically searched for the source of his immobility but couldn’t find it. He made to claw at the ground and found himself unable to bend. The more he struggled, the more frozen he became until he felt it closing in, clouding his memory, slowing his heart-
His eyes snapped open. He blinked up at his ceiling. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Reaching under his pillow, he grasped his wand. Dim light filled the room with a simple wave. Draco sat up and held his head in his hands.
Five years.
It had been five years since he had bonded with Astoria.
Five years without Harry.
The dreams started shortly after the ceremony. He had thought they would fade with time. That they would become easier to bear.
They hadn’t.
He swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear the vestiges of the dream.
“Daddy!”
Draco’s body was moving before he realized he’d left his bedroom. He crossed the hall in a few short strides and eased open a bright red door.
The room was dark, the barest hint of moonlight filtering through the curtains. He recognized the floppy ears before soft blue light flared in the house-elf’s hand. He plopped the ball of flame into a jar and placed it on the nightstand. The light illuminated the quivering lump huddled on the corner of the bed.
“Thank you, Tippy,” he murmured with a nod of his head. “I’ll take it from here.”
The house-elf bowed and disappeared with a crack.
The lump uncurled slightly at the sound of Draco’s voice and grey eyes peered up at him. Draco crouched by the side of the bed and ran his hand through fine blonde hair.
“What’s wrong, Scorpius?” he asked gently.
Scorpius shook his head frantically and jammed his thumb in his mouth. Draco smoothed his hair back from his forehead.
“I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong. Did you have a bad dream?”
Eyes wide, he nodded.
“It wasn’t real,” he said soothingly.
“It felt real,” Scorpius mumbled around his thumb. He clutched the blanket tighter, still frightened.
Draco scanned the room, trying to think of a way to help him. He spotted the chest of toys in the corner and grinned. Much to his son’s dismay, he left the side of the bed and picked up a stuffed Crup. He sat on the floor and placed the toy in front of Scorpius.
“When I was your age, I had a lot of bad dreams,” he whispered as if he was sharing a secret. Scorpius stared at him, riveted. “One night, my mother gave me a stuffed dragon. I named him Xander. Does this guy have a name?”
Scorpius shook his head.
“Well, he needs one. What should we call him?”
His face scrunched up in thought. “Frank!” he shouted and beamed up at Draco.
His heart filled with warmth at the look of pride on Scorpius’s face. He returned the smile. “Frank it is.”
He danced the Crup closer to his son, nuzzling his face, before continuing his story.
“My mother told me that every time I had a bad dream, I should tell my dragon. That way, he would know what to look for while I slept and he could keep the bad dreams away. And that’s what Frank will do for you. We’ll make sure Frank is with you when you go to bed and he’ll protect you from the bad dreams. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah!” he exclaimed, hugging the Crup to his chest. He pulled the ear close to his mouth and whispered his dream into it.
Draco smiled indulgently; his heart overflowed with love for the little boy before him. He knew he would do anything to give him the best childhood possible. Scorpius would grow up happy and cherished. He was determined to be the father Lucius had never been, to give his son everything he had missed out on.
One of them should be happy.
Draco ran his hand through Scorpius’s hair one more time before getting up and heading to the door.
“Daddy?”
He turned with his hand on the knob. “Yes?”
“Can we sleep wif you? ‘Cause Frank is just learnin’ and maybe the dream will come back,” he pleaded.
“Of course,” he nodded. He held out his arms and Scorpius ran into them. He carried him across the hall and tucked him under the covers on his own bed. He climbed in next to him and grabbed his wand, waving the door shut and extinguishing the lights.
Scorpius curled up against Draco’s side, Frank squashed between them. He popped his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes. Draco slid further under the covers and wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back.
He stared at the ceiling as Scorpius’s breathing evened out. Pieces of his final conversation with Harry flashed through his consciousness. “You’re an adult, he doesn’t run your life!” Harry had shouted at him. Draco remembered telling him that it wasn’t that simple…but maybe it could be.
He looked down at Scorpius, sleeping peacefully. He would do anything to make him happy.
Maybe it was time he did the same for himself.
***
After breakfast the next morning, Tippy took Scorpius outside to spend time with his grandmother in the garden. Draco walked through the ground floor, searching for his wife. He found her in a rarely used sitting room, reading. He sat in the chair across from her and cleared his throat. He swallowed down his hesitation as she met his gaze.
"Astoria, we need to talk."