#jealous hob is such a flavor

[illumi-nati-png]

Elizabethan AU inspired by @aeon-of-neon tags

[graymatters]

These Tender Moments

Harry feels his eyelids grow heavy as he settles into the plump cushions of the loveseat, intoxicated by the dense smell of pine and citrus suffusing the sitting room. Outside, a gentle snow falls steadily, the large flakes illuminated by the porch light. The evening, in its ease and simplicity, gently lulls Harry into a wistful reverie of snowy mornings at Hogwarts, chunky knit sweaters and endless supplies of treacle tart.

A rush of air pouring through the floo jars Harry from his daydream. He adjusts his glasses just in time to see Hermione gracefully spill out of the fireplace. She straightens her coat and brushes a stray hair from her forehead before meeting Harry’s eyes with a gentle smile.

“Shh,” Harry hushes against his forefinger, glancing down to indicate the sleeping toddler in his lap. He delicately runs his fingers through the mess of silvery-blond hair, grinning at the smudge of chocolate on Scorpius’ cheek and the child’s sugar-sticky fingers. Harry carefully shifts Scorpius over from his lap onto a spare throw pillow, a skill he’s nearly perfected.

When he stands, Harry admires the array of crumpled wrappers, half-eaten Cauldron Cakes, and Every-Flavor beans that litter the floor. Pillows and quilts are haphazardly strewn about as well, a necessary precaution when introducing a four-year-old to Fizzing Whizbees. He can’t help but smile at memories of Draco’s horrified expression when Scorpius nearly tore down the curtains.

Harry clumsily tiptoes around the evidence of their shenanigans to meet Hermione for a warm hug and a peck on the cheek. They silently tread towards the kitchen where the wireless plays faintly from its home on the barcart in the corner. Draco stands at the hob, humming along and swaying his slim hips side to side as he puts on a kettle.

“It looks like Honeydukes exploded in your front room. Fun day?” Hermione asks as she unbuttons her coat, revealing the roundness of her belly.

Harry takes her coat and chuckles. “A blast. Couldn’t keep Scorpius away from the treats till tomorrow.”

Harry feels a warm prickle of magic as Draco turns from the kettle to cast a silencing charm. He increases the volume of the wireless before playfully accusing, “You mean you couldn’t keep yourself from spoiling Scorpius rotten.” Harry just shrugs, unable to argue. He’s thoroughly enjoyed experiencing Christmas through Scorpius’ eyes, allowing the toddler’s bubbling anticipation to overshadow his own unpleasant childhood memories.

Draco makes his way towards them, snaking his arm around Harry’s waist. “Happy Christmas, by the way, Hermione. When are you due to pop this one out?”

“Any day now. Can’t come soon enough, if you ask me,” she huffs as she plops into a seat at the kitchen table, interlacing her fingers atop her belly. “I’m actually jealous of Scorp’s sugar-induced coma. I haven’t slept like that in months, maybe even years. May just have to try it myself.”

“What have you done to my son?” Draco teases quietly into Harry’s ear.

Harry laughs and raises his hands to proclaim his innocence. “I did nothing wrong! He’s just worn out, is all. Wouldn’t be surprised if he sleeps till morning.”

“Or wakes us at some ungodly hour. He’s not normally in bed until eight.” Draco rolls his eyes before gently pressing a kiss to the pulse point at Harry’s neck.

Hermione shakes her head before interjecting. “If he’s anything like Rose, it won’t matter when he goes to sleep. We kept her up until nearly midnight last year and she still tossed a present into our bed four hours later.”

“Merlin help you if I am disturbed at four in the morning,” Draco laments, dramatically resting the back of his spare hand on his forehead. “Ah, what was it from the movie we watched the other day? Oh, before sunrise, he’s your son.” Draco grins proudly. Recognizing the futility in asserting otherwise, Harry simply pinches Draco’s ribs before pulling him by the hand to join Hermione at the table.

They sit comfortably in each other’s company, sipping on milky tea and chatting easily as Scorpius dozes blissfully in the next room. Hermione cheerfully explains how she was booted from her own home so Ron and Rose could wrap her gifts, even though Rose spilled secrets all week. Harry accidentally reveals the trainer broom he’s bought for Scorpius and, despite the merely performative criticism from Draco, wholeheartedly defends his decision (“He’ll be five next month… Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of buying one for his birthday!”). Empty mugs are refilled. Biscuits appear and quickly disappear. Scorpius sleeps on.

“Oh, I love this one,” Draco says, minutes, perhaps hours, later as the sounds of a piano pleasantly fill the kitchen. He starts to tunelessly sing along, “This evening has been… so very nice.” Rising from his spot at the table, Draco resumes his languid swaying side to side, padding barefoot across the cool tile under the yellow glow of the kitchen light. The threadbare pajama bottoms he nicked from Harry’s drawer hang awkwardly above his bony ankles and his baggy shirt is unbuttoned to reveal the sharp angles of his collarbones.

“Well maybe just a half a drink more,”  Draco sings and holds a hand out in invitation for Harry, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ah, did you get a little extra something in your cup?” Harry laughs as he accepts Draco’s hand, joining him to clumsily spin about the kitchen. Hermione giggles, taking a sniff of Draco’s mug and waving a hand over her nose in jest.

“No liquor necessary, my love. I find your very presence intoxicating enough, most days,” Draco confesses, voice syrupy-sweet as he pulls Harry close and wraps his arms loosely around Harry’s waist. “Wish I knew how to break the spell… ”

Harry allows himself to be led around the kitchen, muscles pliant and light. Draco nuzzles the curls of his hair, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin behind Harry’s ear. Harry hums contentedly and rests his chin on Draco’s shoulder.

“Alright, gentlemen, I will take that as my cue. If the gifts aren’t wrapped by now, they’ll never be.” Hermione stands to wrap her arms around them both in as much of a hug as she can manage with her belly between them. Draco pats her shoulder and Harry plants a kiss atop her frizzy hair before she turns to leave.

“Granger, would you mind using the floo in the bedroom? Let a sleeping giant lie, no rest for the wicked and all that.” Draco casually waves a hand in the direction of the sleeping toddler.

“What are you babbling about?” Harry asks with a smirk.

“Granger’s a smart one, she knows what I mean. No waking the sleeping baby. Sorry you’re a snitch short of a broomshed, darling.”

Harry just shakes his head. “Literally, no one says that.” He turns to Hermione for validation. “No one says that, right Hermione?”

Unwilling to take sides, Hermione smiles and says, “Happy Christmas, you two. See you both tomorrow,” before tiptoeing down the dark hall towards the bedroom.

Purposeful swaying soon evolves to a lazy circling of the kitchen, both men unwilling to abandon the moment entirely. Harry nestles his face into the hollow of Draco’s neck, inhaling the smoky-citrus of his cologne.

“I’m happy,” he whispers into Draco’s skin, feeling the heat of his own breath warm his face. He feels a bit childish, like he doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe the strength of the tug at his chest, the way he can’t help but look at Draco and think of home.

“Articulate as ever, Mr. Potter… I’m happy, too,” Draco purrs before meeting Harry’s lips in a gentle kiss. Harry begins to trail his fingers underneath Draco’s oversized shirt, but stops as he hears a high-pitched yawn behind him.

“Is it Christmas yet? Can we open presents now?” Scorpius approaches slowly, hair rumpled and eyes still heavy with sleep. He maneuvers between them to plant sock-covered feet on top of Draco’s bare ones and wraps his small arms around Harry’s thigh.

Harry meets Draco’s eyes with a pleading look, a silent request for permission. The blond skeptically raises an eyebrow, but nods in defeat before pressing his lips to Harry’s.

Eyes bright, Harry grins. “Alright, Scorpius. Let’s go open some presents.”

For @gameofdrarry‘s Drarropoly 2020. Thanks to @crazybutgood for the beta assistance.

Also on AO3.