I'm so sorry
I have no excuses
Please don't hate me
They're gathered around the outside dining table in a tense, awkward silence. Albus holds his boyfriend's hand tightly under the table as his father's eyes bore into him.
"Well, Albus," Harry starts hesitantly. His voice is slow, so unlike the deep interrogatory voice he uses in Auror investigations. "How long has this—" he gestured over to Scorpius—"being going on?"
Al swallows, casting a glance at Scorpius, who refuses to make eye contact and instead keeps his focus on the intricate wood patterns of the table. Help me, Al wants to plead with him. But it would be unfair, he thinks—it's his family's fault Scorpius was outed before he was ready. Secrets weren't kept in this family; Draco Malfoy would know in the next two days.
"Two years," he answers. He pulls his head up to face his father. A sense of pride and relief washes over him that his voice didn't crack or shake. He's eerily aware of the other twenty or so people watching him.
A knot twists around in his stomach.
"Two years." His dad sighs. "I can't believe—"
"Al," his dad says. His voice is soft this time. Gentle. In a different situation Al imagines it would feel like an embrace, a warmth encasing him; telling him everything would be okay. But right now it's not. Instead there's a fear burning at him.
"Al," he repeats. "Maybe we should—could we take this inside? Somewhere more private?"
Fuck. Fuck. "Yeah," he chokes out. "Sure."
"When you were born, I promised myself I would be there for you. I promised—I promised myself. I said I would never let you feel like you were alone, or like there was something you couldn't tell me. I always tried my best to be to be there for you, and I said ... I never wanted you to have the childhood I had."
Al twists the ring on his middle finger—Scorpius had given it to him on their one year anniversary. It was a snake that curled around his finger, embedded with emerald and with piercing black eyes. His right hand traced the marble of the kitchen bench he was sitting on. "I didn't. You were ... you were great."
His father buries his head in his hands and then drags them down his face. He looks tired. There are faint wrinkles on his forehead, covered by the occasional greying hair falling over his face. He runs a hand through his hair. "I love you, Al, you know that, right? I love you. Nothing as small as this would ever change that. I don't care if you like guys, okay? I don't care. I just wish .. I wish you'd felt like you could tell me. I wish I'd been there for you more."
Al's hand pauses from twisting his ring. "You were, dad. You were. I just—I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."
Harry moves slightly, as if to step forward, then stops. There's a silence that falls between them. And then he surges forward, and pulls his son into a an embrace. Al buries his head in his father's neck, and Harry's arms wrap around him. There's a security in it, a warmth—a safety.
"I love you, Al, okay?" Harry says when he pulls away. "You don't have to be sorry. Even if I—even if I have to make friends with Draco Malfoy or something. Me and your mum—we just want you to be happy."
Al smiles, the knot is stomach softening. "Thanks, dad."
"And I'll deal with everyone else. Honestly, the thing you mostly should've been scared about was your Uncle Ron's reaction. He still doesn't really like the Malfoys."
A small laugh escapes his throat. "Yeah, I know."
"You'll be fine, son. Nothing changes." A pause. "Scorpius can't sleep in your room anymore though. That changes."
Harry presses his lips softly to his son's forehead. It's gentle in a fatherly way. "Are you okay to face the others?"
He inhales deeply. Now. It's happening now. "Yeah," he responds. There's a slight tremble to his voice. "Yeah."
He looks up at his father. His eyes are kind, patient—it'll be okay, they seem to say. You'll be okay.
He hopes so.
and im out mfs
Ooh also do y'all wanna check out the story i wrote yesterday about trans scorpius malfoy (its called 'my name is scorpius (and that's okay)) thank u
And I'm so sorry it was 3 years