(no subject)
I cannot believe i'm posting this. GNRGH.
PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. THIS WAS DONE FOR PURE.. UHM. I DON'T KNOW. ohgod.
Title: Untitled
Pairings: H/S (DH Spoilers)
It was in the dark alley's that they met, a near imitation to the empty classrooms and secluded hallways of Hogwarts. Harry said he wanted it as close as possible to how it used to be. Scorpius never complained, not that he wanted particularly wanted to. If he did, all Harry would do was laugh and say that his father used to whine too. Used to whine practically every bloody chance he got, but he's not whining now is he? With a wife like that, and a son like you.
Now, all he whines about is the hair that he's losing. Going bald, must be tragedy, Harry says. He'll never loose his hair. He'll never change.
Scorpius admits, at times, Harry acts stranger than his own family. The Malfoy's, as pure as they are, are in inbred bunch and during the family holiday's their straight laced uptight airs fall apart and crack at the seams, and Scorpius wonders how much of that insanity he's managed to inherit. But Harry's insanity is a bit different, more hard edged and broken, as if he's lost parts of himself over the years, parts of himself he's drowned in too many pints and too many children with names that were supposed to make things appear to be alright.
Harry can only fool the rest of the world, but he never managed to fool himself.
His children will never make up for the people he's lost. His children, with the names of his father's and his own personal saviors, will never be their namesakes, but only themselves. They will never be able to live up to the things Harry wants them to, and they will never be able to give him the things he lost.
Except when it comes to Scorpius.
Harry's not a git. At least not a giant one. He doesn't truly believe Scorpius is Draco. Except when the firewhiskey clouds his vision and Scorpius' slight frame, thin ribs, white hair, starts to look all so familiar that Harry's anger starts to burn stronger and he has to try even harder not to remember what he's lost along the way. It's when Scorpius can see it in Harry's pupils, his shaking eyes, that he starts to worry he might end up hurt.
Scorpius always ends up hurt. Not that he particularly minds, just like his father.
PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. THIS WAS DONE FOR PURE.. UHM. I DON'T KNOW. ohgod.
Title: Untitled
Pairings: H/S (DH Spoilers)
It was in the dark alley's that they met, a near imitation to the empty classrooms and secluded hallways of Hogwarts. Harry said he wanted it as close as possible to how it used to be. Scorpius never complained, not that he wanted particularly wanted to. If he did, all Harry would do was laugh and say that his father used to whine too. Used to whine practically every bloody chance he got, but he's not whining now is he? With a wife like that, and a son like you.
Now, all he whines about is the hair that he's losing. Going bald, must be tragedy, Harry says. He'll never loose his hair. He'll never change.
Scorpius admits, at times, Harry acts stranger than his own family. The Malfoy's, as pure as they are, are in inbred bunch and during the family holiday's their straight laced uptight airs fall apart and crack at the seams, and Scorpius wonders how much of that insanity he's managed to inherit. But Harry's insanity is a bit different, more hard edged and broken, as if he's lost parts of himself over the years, parts of himself he's drowned in too many pints and too many children with names that were supposed to make things appear to be alright.
Harry can only fool the rest of the world, but he never managed to fool himself.
His children will never make up for the people he's lost. His children, with the names of his father's and his own personal saviors, will never be their namesakes, but only themselves. They will never be able to live up to the things Harry wants them to, and they will never be able to give him the things he lost.
Except when it comes to Scorpius.
Harry's not a git. At least not a giant one. He doesn't truly believe Scorpius is Draco. Except when the firewhiskey clouds his vision and Scorpius' slight frame, thin ribs, white hair, starts to look all so familiar that Harry's anger starts to burn stronger and he has to try even harder not to remember what he's lost along the way. It's when Scorpius can see it in Harry's pupils, his shaking eyes, that he starts to worry he might end up hurt.
Scorpius always ends up hurt. Not that he particularly minds, just like his father.