Drabble: Awkward Questions (G, ~300 words)
Love you, Femme, you amazing wench, you! Little drabble for you with subtext.
Title: Awkward Questions Author: Amanuensis Pairings: Subtextual HP-verse. Rating: G About 300 words
Ceredwyn had tried to get Scorpius to call Draco father, but it had never stuck. "Yes?"
"Why don't I have a godfather?"
All the questions. The ones you dread but expect, such as where do babies come from and what's that thing on granddad's arm, and the ones you have no idea are coming such as if I swallowed a snidget whole that won't hurt me will it because my stomach feels funny.
This one's in the latter category, though Draco feels he likely should have expected it. More fool him.
"Everyone I know does. They say only the muggle-borns don't. I'm not a muggle-born really, am I, Dad? I'm not?"
Draco is relieved to see his caution never to use that word around his son has paid off, but pureblood prejudices never stayed out of Draco's attitude entirely. Scorpius's anxiousness is tangible.
"No, of course not. You're a Malfoy. The best stock."
"So why don't I have a godfather?"
He doesn't quite decide that Scorpius should have the truth, so much as lack any other story to tell him.
"You would have." He meets his son's pale eyes. "He...died, before you were born, before I even met your mother. I'd have named him your godfather, if he'd lived, and I...couldn't think of anyone else who would do in his place."
Scorpius is silent. Then: "Could I tell people he was my godfather?"
Draco thinks about it, and it's not as if Snape will object. "If you like." He gives Scorpius a small smile. "I'll take you with me to see his gravesite next time I go. He was a headmaster of Hogwarts, you know." He sets one hand on his son's head. "But he's buried with the war heroes."