Draco was having such a good dream.
He was on a beach somewhere with crystal clear turquoise water so clear that crabs could be seen scuttling to and fro on the sandy bottom while schools of brightly coloured fish swam in unnameable patterns. His beautiful wife was wearing naught but a bikini and a ridiculously large sun hat and his body was pressed against hers while he kissed her languidly. Blunted fingernails scraped against his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair only to cup his cheeks in her hands and pull him closer to her.
He could feel the warm sun beating down upon his back as he pulled her closer, laving open mouthed kisses over the curve of her neck and shoulder. His wife’s delicate hands slid over the planes of his body to yank at the towel wrapped around his waist.
“Mm,” he hummed against her skin, “Someone’s impatient.”
She giggled, nuzzling her nose against his and kissed him again. The tug at his towel became more insistent.
When his arms tightened around his witch, he heard a very irritated grunt that sounded nothing like his wife but seemed to come from her. He stopped kissing her and stared down at her, but she looked lovely, content, and mussed in just the way he liked.
Draco heard the sound again, though it was more like a huff than a grunt and before he knew it, Draco was ripped from sleep to sunlight stinging his eyes, his wife’s side of the bed empty, and a toddler tugging at his dressing gown.
He’d been so tired last night he must’ve fallen asleep with it on.
“Daddy!” the tot insisted, climbing up to sit on his back and tugging at his robe.
“Can’t it wait another minute, Scorpius?” Draco mumbled in a sleepy haze. He ran his hands over his face and yawned, relaxing back into the pillows. Merlin help him, he just wanted a few more minutes.
Unfortunately, his son was as relentless as he had been as a child. Stubborn as a hippogriff and sneaky as a niffler. And being only two, very used to getting his own way.
“No! Pway!” The vowels were drawn out in a whine and Draco felt the chubby hands of his son brace against his back as Scorpius forced himself to stay upright with Draco’s subtle movements.
With another yawn, Draco propped his head up on his hand, “Won’t you let your dad be at peace?” he asked as Scorpius began to roar like a dragon, only it was significantly less intimidating and consequently much more adorable.
He couldn’t help but smile at the little blond boy.
“No!” Scorpius shouted, “Dwagons!” He held his chubby arms above his head in what Draco assumed was supposed to be a claw-like fashion meant to intimidate. It was nearly the same motion the little boy used when he wanted to be picked up except for the fact that his face was scrunched up and he was baring his teeth and attempting a roar which sounded rather kittenish and certainly not intimidating.
“Yes, yes. I am aware of your love for dragons,” he deadpanned. Draco had spent much time studying dragons in his youth the moment he learned the meaning of his given name. However, he could only sing “Little Dragons Eat Their Breakfast” and “Baby Dragon Goes to Town” so many times before he wanted to vomit. And of course, those asinine songs had to accompany any play with Scorpius’ actual toy dragons.
Merlin save him from childhood obsessions.
Scorpius flailed his arms and fell off of Draco and onto the bed, little arms still held aloft with kicking feet and a growly sound coming out of his pouty two year old mouth.
Draco attempted to sit up, but the little boy was faster than his tired father and very quickly, Draco found himself wide-eyed with an unexpected armful of toddler. He could feel Scorpius smile against his robe as the boy’s arms tightened infinitesimally around him in a tiny hug that carried so much emotion and love as children’s hugs often do. Sitting up, Draco wrapped Scorpius up in his arms and lifted him from where Scorpius had landed against his stomach. He kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair.
Scorpius’s tiny hands fisted Draco’s robe and he grinned, reminding Draco how precious these moments were.
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