Chapter Text
"I wanna have that old feeling today."
Celestina Warbeck’s crooning floated up through the radio, soaking the kitchen in a languid torpor. It was an old song, from when his mum was a girl. Ron remembered being a clatter at her calves and Molly standing where he did now, at the sink. He mouthed the words into the middle distance while Scorpius dragged his toy in semi-circles, back and forth. The baby was mouthing something of his own.
Draco would be late today. He only had to finish three plates and put Scorpius to bed.
"Like we're sixteen again."
He paused and rested the dish against the sink for a second. Its half washed steel surface gleamed with soap and he caught his reflection there. A tired, familiar face. Older now. Not nearly sixteen.
"That feeling, when you held me, and everything fell away to just —"
He gave it a little shine with his soaking wrist and quirked his mouth at the pale impression of the man in the plate. He always got this way whenever someone mentioned being sixteen. A little runaway from the real world, just a momentary step back into nostalgia's warm, dishonest net. One of those things he'd become with age, he guessed. Bad knees and an inability to sleep past six. Nostalgic.
Behind him, something patted his calf.
He looked down. Scorpius beamed up at him with his whole face, gummy and radiant and entirely without agenda. His heart swelled so immediately it hurt his chest. It was near fit to bursting whenever the little thing was around, no matter if they were attached at the hip all day.
"Hey," he said quietly, amidst the questioning gurgles. He moved to scoop him up – remembered his wet hands and wrung them on the apron. Lifting the small warm weight, he showed the baby the two dishes now left. "Can I finish these up?" He asked conspiratorially. "Or is my baby too tired to stay up till then?" A kiss was promptly pressed to a plump cheek. "Too tired? Okay, let's go to sleep first. Dada will finish up later."
—
Scorpius dozed off without much fuss. He hadn't been particularly energetic at bath time either– much fewer coos and slaps at the water surface. Ron had a theory, unverified but persistent, that the baby was somehow attuned to him. Whenever he was feeling particularly down, Scorpius was quieter too, more tired. He stared up at Ron curiously, with eyes too big and watchful for such a little face.
He slept earlier and would be as withdrawn as he was today, nodding off in the bath. Ron's heart felt heavy on those days, watching the little boy startle himself awake in the water. He felt contagious, and put Scorpius to bed quickly.
“Im sorry, love,” he whispered to the little bundle, smoothing a thumb over that wispy forehead. It was such a little face. The dearest thing in the world. Scorpius’ eyelids twitched; and he ran his thumb over there too.
After he was sure Scorpius was in a deep sleep, he went back to the two dishes and finished them up. He didn't like having to come back to a task. He'd always been lazy that way. But Draco's face after a long day at the office made quick work of him. Celestina Warbeck had long since stopped singing about the tribulations of being 16 and in love.
Ron liked that song a lot, even if it sometimes made him feel things he'd rather not.
He missed Draco. It was nearly nine o'clock and – staying up till eleven was nothing. But the missing stayed consistent even when Draco was a head-turn away. It did not observe Sundays. It did its uncomfortable pricking even when it had no cause to.
He would stay up till eleven. Heat the food again discreetly. Hear the keys jangling as they turned the lock, just as an indulgence.
Slip away before Draco saw his waiting face.