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It was a dark and stormy evening at the Malfoys’ townhouse in central London.
Thunder struck against the windows, wind howled through the streets outside, and rain battered endlessly against the glass.
Bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, two figures lay intertwined beneath the blankets while quiet jazz drifted through the room.
Draco pressed a soft kiss over his wife’s heart.
“I love you, Mrs Malfoy,” he murmured.
Hermione stilled on her page, smiling softly before leaning down to kiss him back.
“I love you more, Mr Malfoy.”
The scene was one of perfect domestic bliss.
That was, until a small hesitant knock sounded against the bedroom door.
Draco shot upright immediately and glared towards the entrance.
“Your son is here,” he said accusingly before promptly collapsing back onto Hermione’s chest.
Hermione giggled softly, brushing pale strands of hair away from his eyes.
“That’s your son too, you know.”
Draco sighed dramatically.
“Unfortunately.”
The bedroom door creaked open slowly.
:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:
Standing in the doorway was a tiny blond figure no older than three, dressed in star-and-moon patterned pyjamas while clutching a stuffed dragon in one hand and a blanket in the other.
Trailing behind him was the family’s ginger menace, Crookshanks, meowing loudly in protest.
“Mummy?” Scorpius whimpered, eyes already glossy with tears. “I’m scared of the dark.”
His tiny voice trembled.
“Can you come sleep with me?”
Hermione closed her book gently and looked over at her son.
“You’re growing up, little dragon,” she said, attempting to sound stern and failing impossibly. “You need to learn independence.”
From his position attached to Hermione like a particularly expensive blond barnacle, Draco stuck his tongue out at his son before mouthing smugly:
I win. She’s mine.
Scorpius’s eye twitched.
Then he wailed dramatically:
“BUT MUMMY! Daddy’s attached to you like a barnacle! And he’s bigger than me, so shouldn’t he be independent first?”
Draco sat up, glaring at his son, his voice rising defensively, “I am NOT a barnacle, she just loves me more”
Scorpius started shouting back, “YOU CRIED MORE THAN I DID WHEN SHE WENT AWAY FOR WORK”
“That was entirely different,” Draco argued immediately.
Scorpius gasped dramatically. “No, it wasn’t! You followed Mummy around the whole house for THREE DAYS.”
“I was being supportive.”
“You cried into her jumper.”
“I did not.”
“You told the cat you missed her!”
Crookshanks meowed loudly from the doorway as if confirming the accusation.
Hermione’s shoulders started shaking with poorly hidden laughter.
Draco looked horrified. “You are not supposed to testify.”
Scorpius climbed further onto the bed with the confidence of someone already winning the argument.
“Daddy also steals Mummy’s blankets,” he informed her seriously.
“TRAITOR,” Draco whispered.
“And Daddy says he can’t sleep unless he’s touching you.”
“That is enough from the small blonde menace.”
“But Daddy—”
“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.”
“But—”
“Your mother and I are having a private conversation.”
Scorpius blinked.
“You were literally lying on her boobs.”
Hermione finally gave up pretending any of the Malfoy men in her life possessed even the slightest sense of independence.
Scorpius had somehow ended up curled against her side beneath the blankets while Draco remained stubbornly attached to her front, glaring at his son like this was a personal betrayal.
Crookshanks settled triumphantly at their feet.
“You’re both impossible,” Hermione sighed fondly.
Draco pressed another kiss against her shoulder.
“But you love us anyway.”
Scorpius gasped dramatically.
“Mummy loves me more.”
“ABSOLUTELY not,” Draco snapped immediately.
Hermione laughed so hard she nearly woke the entire house.
ps
scorpius malfoy would like it noted that his father is a hypocrite.