The lazy drowsiness. That type of sated, relaxed state where one simply relished in the pleasant fact of existence. The solid, insistent knowledge of the flesh and bone home of the body, keeping one intact and whole, brought a soothing comfort.
The fact acknowledged by one's self that you had a self, that you did endure corporeally, and felt the structure of the bed beneath you, as the mind lagged just a beat behind, sparking slowly to life, still content to linger in the cloud-like realm of subconscious activity. The oddly aware state of the in-between: to identify that your consciousness had been one way, but was now in the midst of transition to another state entirely.
A strangeness, this universal human experience of the fleeting caress of the dream state, progressing to the recognition of emerging from said state and onto the starkness of reality.
Brilliant, that ability of the mind to pinpoint that you had dreamed, but now, would leave that plane and enter one you knew to be the truth.
Maybe in that ephemeral space you regretted leaving behind the dream world and dread the re-entry.
Or if you are Draco, you remembered all the happiness that awaited you.
A warm, perfectly soft bed supported his prone form as Draco blinked awake. The silk sheets had slid down to his torso, his legs clad in silk pajama bottoms. Wrapped in smooth luxury, he stretched languorously, shedding the last vestiges of a good night's sleep and opening his eyes wide to welcome the stream of golden sunlight through the curtains. A glorious morning greeted him.
Perfect for the festivities to occur later. In honour of him, of course.
Draco rolled onto his side to find the space next to him empty. His hand reached out and groped along the other side of the bed anyway, for the body that should be there.
He frowned petulantly. She'd promised him a very exciting morning in bed. It was his birthday after all and she always did spoil him on his birthday. Spoiled him every day, truthfully.
Happiness reigned supreme in his life.
He sighed and laid back against his pillow, feeling blissfully well-rested. Draco supposed letting him have a lie-in was a gift in and of itself.
Because not only had Draco expected at least her presence, surely the third occupant of the household would have wanted to disrupt his sleep by now?
Stray noises filtered down the hall from the room below. Joyful sounds of domesticity. The shifting of pans. The cracking of eggs. The sizzling of bacon. The excited babble of a child. The scrape of a chair against the floor.
Ah, so they meant to surprise him then; perhaps with breakfast in bed.
Draco roused himself completely and threw on a t-shirt over his bare chest. He crept quietly down the hall and down the stairs, carefully approaching the doorway of the spacious kitchen. An eat-in kitchen for this home. One where they both cooked and ate together most meals. No need for the stuffy propriety of formal dining rooms or long tables that created physical and figurative distance between families.
More sounds as he moved closer. Two voices. His favourite two voices.
The first, sweet and melodic, attempted and failed to be stern. Wonderful a mother though she may be, their son had her quite wrapped around his little finger. Draco could privately admit he was much the same.
Snippets of normalcy. Stability.
The other voice, excited and rapid, chattered away about all his various plans and schemes. Just like Draco, he wanted the constant and full attention of the woman trying to cook their breakfast. Surely no task was as important as what he had to tell her?
A playful and light scene unfolded before him as Draco inched closer, keen to stay hidden lest he disturb this lovely atmosphere. This picturesque vision of a mother and son.
"And Mummy look, look, are you looking?"
"Yes love, but I've got to pay attention to the stove, too. Do you want me to burn Daddy's birthday breakfast?"
"Okay. But can you look at my stickers?"
"Are those the stickers Grandpa gave you?"
"Yes they are the best! It's dragons for me. For me and Daddy."
The child sat back down at the kitchen table, his feet dangling a comical height from the ground. "Daddy will like them?" The boy suddenly asked, apprehensive, his intent to impress Draco the clear goal.
"'Course he will, love. Have you finished with it?"
"NO!" And with that panicked proclamation the young boy gathered a round object to his chest, jumped down from the chair and bolted for the opposite door into the sitting room.
A well-loved and carefree child.
The only sounds now were his wife's soft chuckles and the crackle of the frying bacon. Draco leaned against the door jamb and watched her for a few moments. A woman confident in her beauty. She'd shoved her hair out of the way of cooking into an impossible situation atop her head, wand poking through the middle of it. She wore one of his t-shirts, absurdly long on her smaller frame, over a pair of polka-dotted pajama bottoms.
Silly and casual. Relaxed.
Draco crept closer until he stood just behind her. Just as he reached for her waist to make her jump, she huffed out a knowing laugh, having already suspected his presence.
"You didn't see his present for you, did you? He's determined to surprise you."
Draco smirked and snaked both of his arms around her middle, burying his face in the crook of her neck, relishing in her familiarity and warm, golden skin.
"Mmm, I'm already holding my present though."
More sweet laughter. A common sound in their household.
"Going to unwrap me? Right here in the kitchen?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
His bold hands wandered up the hem of the shirt.
"Draco…" she warned but amusement and want tinged her admonishment. Pushing his luck further, he dropped open-mouthed kisses to her neck and pressed himself firmly against her backside.
"It's my birthday," he whispered as he kissed up to her ear. "And you had the audacity to look this fucking good in my shirt and these hideous bottoms."
"Scorpius is in the next room," she whispered back. "The second he hears you're awake he's going to come sprinting in here."
"Mmm," replied Draco and nipped her earlobe. "You should be quiet then." She sucked in a harsh breath as he ground his hips into her. She turned her head to finally capture his lips in a deep kiss.
Eager and enthusiastic as always to taste and be tasted.
Draco indulged her for a few blissful minutes before dropping his hands and stepping away from her entirely.
"Wouldn't want you to burn my birthday breakfast," he said with a smirk and sauntered back from her.
"Oh you horrendous tease!" She snapped a tea towel at him, but he laughed and dodged it.
"Now, now, it's my birthday."
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, turning off the heat and levitating plates over to fill up with eggs and bacon.
"Yes, I think I've heard," she grumbled, but affectionately.
She pulled open the oven door and bent over to remove a tray of freshly baked croissants.
"Could you stay like that just a moment longer? It's my favourite view," he leered at her. She straightened up and rolled her eyes, carefully transferring the hot pastries to a basket on their large kitchen table.
Suddenly, a tiny, platinum-haired tornado whirled into the room, looking wide-eyed at Draco from the threshold.
"Daddy!"
The wild newcomer rushed to Draco's side and latched both arms around one of Draco's legs.
"It's your birthday! Presents now?"
Draco chuckled and pried his son off him, only to sit in the nearest kitchen chair and pull the boy into his lap.
"After you've eaten this lovely breakfast Mummy made."
"Bacon is best. Mummy makes it best."
"She does," agreed Draco, and both wizards earned a beatific smile from the witch. She levitated full plates in front of them and one for herself as the little family of three settled in for breakfast. Draco carefully sipped his freshly-poured tea, mindful of the hyperactive child in danger of knocking it right out of his hands as he chattered and gestured excitedly.
Divine and satisfying in the routine of it all.
Draco kept his son in his grasp as they ate. He had no idea how much more time he'd get with the boy at this phase, so small and affectionate; still willing to cuddle up with both his parents and still enamoured with them.
Scorpius had inherited his hair and his eyes. Sweet and sincere in his temperament. "Like you were as a child," Draco's mother had once commented.
His wife disappeared behind the Prophet, tutting every now and then over something that caught her ire or throwing out random lines of an article to Draco to solicit his opinion on the matter.
Banter and patter flowed easily between them, even when they disagreed. A marriage of matched intellects.
Their son listened intently when either of his parents spoke or else filled the silence with his own musings on the events to come for the rest of the day.
"Grandma and Grandpa and Grandmother and Grandfather come today, they said. They promised."
"Yes, you'll see them later," Draco reassured him and ruffled his son's fine hair. "What time is everyone due to arrive?"
"Your parents will be here for lunch and then everyone else for dinner, though I think you can expect a few eager friends around afternoon tea," she replied.
But Scorpius could only contain himself for so long and this boring adult-talk of schedules pushed him right over the edge of patience.
"Presents now? Please?"
Draco wrapped his arms tightly around the child and then leaned down to stage-whisper. "I don't know Scorpius. Do you think I've been good this year? Do you think Mummy will let me have a present or two?"
His wife winked at Draco and pretended to think hard. "Hmm… let's see. I think Daddy worked very hard to be good this year. What do you think, Scorpius?"
"Yes!" squealed the boy and Draco blew a raspberry against his cheek, causing Scorpius to thrash about in a fit of giggles.
The genuine sound of giddiness. A sound he cherished from his child.
Draco planted him onto his feet and shooed him away. "Go on then, I'm in need of gifts."
The boy bounded from the room then swiftly returned with a helmet. He reverently set the item down onto the table in front of his father and stepped back quickly, looking up to Draco and awaiting his approval. Draco examined the item curiously. It was protective headwear, clearly designed for a child to wear, and he could see that his son had covered the whole of it in Muggle stickers of dragons.
"Do you want to tell Daddy more about his gift?" prompted his wife.
Scorpius puffed out his little chest and looked quite serious. "This is my helmet. Mummy said I have to wear it with you."
Puzzled, Draco looked to his wife for an explanation. She smirked, raised her wand and summoned a wrapped package into the room. A package of suspicious length.
His hands trembled as he undid the ribbon and let the paper fall away to reveal a miniature version of his own broom. Small enough for a child to ride. His child.
"Is this… is this really…?" Draco swallowed once and met his wife's mirthful gaze. "Love… you're sure?"
She leaned forward and pecked his cheek. "He needs to learn from the best, don't you think?"
Scorpius finally lost the battle with his composure. "Oh please please please can we go on it now? Please? I'm safe, look!"
And with that declaration he shoved the helmet onto his head. Draco chuckled, removed it, and turned it around so it faced the correct way.
"See my stickers? There's six stickers!"
"Very good, Scorpius. Do you think you can pick out your best flying kit all by yourself?"
"Yes!" he shouted and ran off.
"Walk please, darling!" called his wife after their child's running form.
A boisterous and unburdened child.
Alone again, Draco immediately pulled his wife onto his lap, drawing her into a slow kiss of gratitude. He'd dreamed of this moment for far too long, from the moment he'd first held his son: the day he'd teach him to fly. Nothing had made Draco happier as a child, and he couldn't wait to experience his son's first thrill of flight. He'd eagerly anticipated the way the boy's eyes would light up in wonder as he took to the air.
His wife had been reluctant to allow Scorpius near a broomstick, despite Draco's assurances that he could teach the boy safely.
A sacred bonding milestone between a father and son. The perfect birthday gift.
"What made you change your mind?" Draco asked her.
"Have you seen your face when you want something? I don't know who's harder to resist, you or Scorpius. It's most unfair."
Draco grinned wickedly, all too aware of the ways he could cajole his wife into things, break down her walls of resistance with a sly pout or a deft manoeuvre of his fingers. His demeanour flipped to serious and he grabbed at her hand.
"I won't let him get hurt, I swear it."
She stroked a tender finger down the side of his face.
Calm and reassuring. Always steadfast in her love for him.
"Do you think I'd have let this happen if I didn't have complete faith in you?" She laughed and nuzzled the side of his face with her own. "I trust you to safely teach our son to fly, Draco."
Trust. Uninhibited trust in him. In his ability as a father.
The sprawling back lands of his home stretched on in an unending sea of well-manicured green lawn. Tall, swaying trees lined the land, providing the right amount of protection for their private estate.
Wide and open and free. But secure. Their own kingdom. An idyllic setting to raise a family properly.
Crouching down in front of Scorpius so as to be at eye level, Draco buckled the helmet beneath his chin. He first taught the boy how to properly grip the handle. An inquisitive and obedient learner, the child hung on Draco's every word, gazing from his father to the broom in his hands with rapt, wide-eyed attention.
Draco extracted promises and oaths from Scorpius about respecting the broom and how he was never to use it without a parent present. Even if the brooms made for this age group could only hover several feet off the ground, Draco would take no chances with his young son.
Family was his entire world. He'd do anything to ensure their safety. He protected his own.
The broom floated and Draco hoisted Scorpius to sit astride it. He'd teach him how to properly mount on his own soon. But first, he wanted to get the boy used to the sensation of flight. Draco summoned his own broom and, keeping a steady hand on Scorpius, hovered just beside him.
His wife watched anxiously from the verandah, sitting with his parents. Scorpius threw them an exuberant wave.
Draco then steered both brooms together, not five feet off the ground, in a long, slow lap around their lands. Scorpius wore a look of deep concentration at first, keeping in mind everything Draco had taught him about how to control his speed, how to turn, and how to brake, even as Draco never took his hand away from the smaller broom's handle.
Eventually, seeing that Scorpius had the basics down, Draco dismounted his own broom to stand beside his son. A hand on the tail kept the child broom at the height of Draco's chest. Draco instructed Scorpius to gently fly in a straight line, turn around and then fly right back to him. He counted down for the boy then let go.
His son flew off, steady and true, and then turned with only a bit of jerky movement and completed the route back to an anxious Draco. He brought the broom to a stuttering stop and Draco immediately grabbed the handle to bring it to a complete halt.
Scorpius looked up into his father's face in awe. "I flew," he breathed and Draco grinned.
A surreal moment in his life and his son's life. One Draco knew he'd never forget.
Draco let him go a few more times before guiding Scorpius back towards the house.
"Mummy I did it! Mummy did you see?"
She nodded emphatically and then passed off the animated boy to his doting grandparents.
Draco's parents positively adored their grandson. The closeness of their family was a constant source of comfort to him.
"Scorpius worships you, you know," observed his wife quietly. "He kept telling me this morning he couldn't wait to fly like you. Couldn't wait to be just like you."
"He's a natural," enthused Draco, pleased in this first showing of his son's abilities on a broom.
The day sped by in a blur of enjoyment, as days spent with loved ones often did.
His friends and hers, faces sliding in and out of focus, all wearing grins and speaking in friendly, jovial tones, offering Draco congratulations and birthday wishes. His parents and hers chatting over cups of tea on the verandah. Other little boys and girls running round the gardens with Scorpius, their high-pitched squeals and giggles sounding through the air.
A home that knew nothing but peace.
The hazy sun of impending summer eventually set and the insects of early evening made their entrance and added their contributions to the aural tapestry of Draco's outdoor birthday celebration. His wife was a constant comforting presence by his side. She laughed often, pressed her lips to his cheek periodically, squeezed his arm or hand, bestowed the sort of natural casual physical affection that defined their marriage.
Lightness and ease. Serenity found in the strength of her love for him.
A whir of pleasant experiences swirled around him.
Scorpius bragging loudly to the other children about his flying lesson with Draco.
Sharing a brandy with his father.
Smoking cigars with a group of male friends.
Sneaking behind some shrubbery to snog his wife.
Hoisting his giggling son onto his shoulders.
Blowing out the candles on a decadent birthday cake.
Boasting about his son's natural talents on a broom.
His mother hugging him goodbye and whispering "I'm so proud of you."
When all the guests had left, Draco carried his son to his bedroom. The young boy slumped against his father's chest, tuckered out from all the excitement of the afternoon. Draco lowered Scorpius into bed and pulled the covers up snugly around his sleeping form. He leaned down and kissed his son's forehead.
"Love you Daddy," murmured Scorpius sleepily in his sweet little toddler voice. Draco swept his fingers gently through the soft, white-blond locks. "I love you Scorpius."
His wife observed the standard, nightly exchange between father and son with a bright smile from the doorway.
Now, he read a book propped up in the bed he shared with his wife. She'd been reading too, but had disappeared into the adjoining room a few moments ago.
"Happy birthday darling."
Draco looked up as she emerged from the ensuite bathroom dressed in black. Tiny scraps of black. Expensive-looking scraps to be sure, as he only clothed her in the finest fabrics when she didn't insist on wearing her hideous pajamas.
She crossed the room confidently with a mischievous smile, tugged the book from his hands and climbed atop him to perch astride his hips. She took Draco's hands and placed them at the thin straps at her shoulders, inviting him to reveal even more of her body.
He pulled both straps down and reached behind her to unclasp the hook of her lingerie. The fabric slid down her arms and chest, as Draco moved his palms to her breasts.
She writhed against him and then bunched his shirt and yanked upward, encouraging him to join her in this state of bare skin.
Shared vulnerability in their intimacy. They never hid from one another.
He flipped them over and divested them both of the rest of the nuisance of clothing and then pressed inside her. She stroked up and down his back as he moved in and out, murmuring words of praise and adoration into his ear. His lips never left some part of her face or neck all the while, bestowing her with the appreciative reverence due to a wife such as her.
A mutual offering of bliss and satisfaction. A passion developed over many years together, they knew each other better than anyone. Draco would know her body blind, his hands and lips had mapped every inch of her skin. Yet each round of lovemaking felt new, a re-discovery of being joined together as one, of gasping each other's names.
After, bodies tucked into one another, an instinctual curl into him, ignited that sense of belonging. Her to him. Him to her. Both to this life they'd built together.
He ran a hand through her soft, voluminous curls.
She suddenly turned her face up and bit her lip. "I was thinking—"
"Always dangerous with you—"
"—that I want to give you your gift now, but unfortunately it's not here yet."
Draco rolled his eyes. Today had been gift enough. Scorpius was gift enough.
Hermione was gift enough.
"I suppose you'll just have to make it up to me in other ways," he playfully drawled. "Can I have a hint then? When's it due to arrive?"
She let out an anxious exhale. "Some months yet," she whispered and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She took his hand and placed it on her lower abdomen. Only now that he knew to look for it did Draco notice the slight roundness of her stomach.
Draco splayed his fingers along her body, shocked that he'd get to experience this cataclysmic expansion of his whole heart for a second time. The first time had almost been too much for him, but now he'd be so fortunate as to anticipate the arrival of his child again.
"You're… love you're sure? You're—"
Joy. Radiant, bountiful, unending, pure fucking joy.
"Do you doubt my spellwork? Or that of the healer?" she teased.
Draco took her face in his hands and pressed a firm kiss to her lips.
He voiced his one and only concern. "Do you think Scorpius will be happy?"
"I think he'll enjoy bossing someone else around in addition to you and me," she said with a laugh. Her expression turned soft and understanding, "You always said you hated being an only child."
Whole. Content. A family of four. A sibling for his child. A child who would not know the loneliness he had often felt.
Draco pulled his wife close to embrace her tightly, hoping to impart his unending gratitude that she would once again bestow him the honour of fatherhood.
"My mother is going to be insufferable, you realise. Especially if it's a girl this time."
She let out a tinkling laugh. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
When her laughter died away, she put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back and resumed her position in his arms.
Appreciated and cherished. How they always made each other feel.
"I love you, Draco," she said. She said it often.
He drifted off to sleep with his wife in his arms, their child in her womb, and their son just down the hall.
The process of entering the dream world was one Draco did not fear. He had faith he would slumber soundly tonight.
Happy. He only felt happy.
A/N: Thank you for reading! You can find a playlist for this on spotify by searching for my profile (HeyJude) and the play list is "BCAB." Come say hi on tumblr: heyjude19-writing. Next chapter: May 11