Title: Rainy Days

Characters: Draco, Scorpius

Rating: G

Summary: Scorpius wants to go and play but Draco says nay!

Prompt: awdt's "I hate this weather"

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and publishers. No offense is meant by this fan fiction and this is made purely for fun.

Word Count: ~350


"Scorpius, where exactly do you think you're going?" Draco asked his young son.

"To the gardens," the boy grinned, clad in his raincoat.

"The gardens?" he asked. "It's raining."

"Yes, exactly!" Scorpius chirped, before he turned to speed off.

Draco sighed and levitated the boy back towards him. Scorpius squealed and fumbled in the air. Draco set him down in front of him.

"You are not permitted to go and play in those puddles. I don't want to have you getting dirty and then tracking mud all over the Manor and sending your mother and the house elves into a fit," he said. "Now, go back to your room or find something less messy to occupy yourself with. "

"I want to play in the puddles..." Scorpius mumbled with a frown.

"Pardon?" Draco asked, a brow raised.

"Nothing, father," the boy said, as he straightened his back and trying to hide his displeasure. "I'll just go and... floo Jennifer!"

Draco watched his son scurry off to harass Pansy's daughter and sighed. He had no idea why the boy wanted to stomp around in the rain. He walked up to a window and took in the very many puddles that Scorpius would have flung himself into.

"I hate this weather," Draco murmured, as he recalled the first time his son had gone and discovered puddles. If he could help it, that disastrous scene would not be repeated.

"I should be glad he doesn't like to fly in the rain," he smiled.

When he was a child he had done so on occasion and would fly right into the Manor and trail water everywhere. It had only been water he carried into the house but the sheer distance he had covered due to the broom must have been quite upsetting. He had gotten quite a scolding once when he had splattered mud from his falls everywhere.

"I'm lucky they didn't take the broom away from me..." he mused.

Perhaps he could understand why his son liked to muck about in these conditions, though that did not mean he approved of it.