Work Text:
[ID: A close up of a Slytherin scarf, worn on top of Slytherin robes. There is also a Slytherin tie visible to the left.]
“Dad!”
Harry whips around from his conversation with McGonagall, already leaning down and stretching his arms out.
Scorpius launches himself at Harry, instantly burrowing into his chest. Harry’s hands rest firmly on his head and shoulder, pressing his son into him and carding through his blond hair. Scorpius’ slender frame shakes against him, and Harry begins muttering soothing comments into his ear.
“It’s alright Scorp, it’s okay,” Harry murmurs, pressing kisses to the side of his head.
He hears McGonagall clear her throat and utter something about giving them some privacy, and when Harry looks behind him, she’s gone.
“Heya Scorp,” he says, voice still low. “What’s the matter?”
Scorpius pushes away from him, scowling at him with a look he no doubt learned from his father. His red-rimmed eyes don’t make the look any more threatening, but it does pull at Harry’s heart. He hates seeing his son so upset.
“I got put in Slytherin,” Scorpius whines, voice choked up.
“Yeah, you did,” Harry replies, smiling softly at his son. “Why does that make you upset?”
Scorpius sniffles, pressing back into Harry and hiding his face in his chest. “I wanted to be in Gryffindor, like you,” comes his quiet admission.
Harry releases a sigh, careful to make it sound and feel like any other breath lest Scorpius think he’s upset with him. Heaven help him. “Your other dad was in Slytherin, Scorp, and he’s great!”
“You’re only saying that because he’s your husband,” Scorpius complains. “I’ve heard the rumours! You hate Slytherin.”
Harry frowns, his hands stopping their movement through Scorpius’ hair. “What?” he asks, horror gripping him. “That isn’t true at all, love. I was nearly sorted into Slytherin.”
Scorpius hiccups against him, his ribcage shaking. “Yeah, and you asked not to be! You hate us!”
Harry’s brows furrow. “Who told you that?”
“...Father.”
Shaking his head, Harry pushes away from Scorpius to look him in the eye. “I told your father that a long time ago, I had no idea he’d told you.” He sighs, blinking hard and trying to think of the right thing to say. Where was Draco when he was needed? “I didn’t want to be in Slytherin because that’s where your father was, not because I hated the house. I knew next to nothing about it before I was sorted.”
Scorpius frowns, looking up from the floor. “Why didn’t you want to be with Father?”
Harry laughs gently, the sound releasing tension he hadn’t known he was holding. “I can’t believe we haven’t told you,” he says, voice full of mirth. “That is a story for when we are all together.”
“When who is all together?” a voice drawls, and Scorpius spins around in Harry’s arms.
“Father!”
Harry scrubs a hand over his face as he smiles at Draco. Relief courses through him as Draco bends down to pull their son into a hug. Draco will know what to say.
“What’s the matter darling?” he asks, eyes on Harry but voice in Scorpius’ ear.
Harry mouths ‘Slytherin’ just as Scorpius says, “Nothing.”
Draco raises his eyebrows in incredulity. “It doesn’t look like nothing, love.”
Scorpius sighs dramatically—a habit he probably picked up from Harry—and hides his face in Draco’s work robes. “I don’t want to offend you.”
“You won’t Scorp,” Draco murmurs, his hands smoothing over Scorpius’ new Hogwarts robes. “I will always love you, no matter what happens.”
Scorpius makes a noise of disgust at that last comment and pulls away again, eyes fixed on the ground so as not to look at either of his parents. “I sorted Slytherin.”
Harry pulls a face at Draco—hopefully one that says ‘I told you so’—but keeps silent.
“So?” Draco asks, gesturing for Harry to come around and kneel next to him.
Harry sees Scorpius frown as his knees hit the cobblestones. “I don’t want to be evil!”
Draco tilts his head, curiosity and the beginnings of anger burning in his eyes. “Who told you you were evil?’
“No-no one,” Scorpius sniffles. “Slytherin is the evil house.”
Draco shakes his head in earnest. “There is no such thing as an evil house, Scorp. No, let me finish,” he says, stopping Scorpius from interrupting him. “Yes, it is true that a number of so-called evil wix have come from this house, however, it is far from every Slytherin. There are also lots who come from different houses, but no one calls Gryffindor or Hufflepuff evil.”
That comment startles a laugh out of Scorpius, and it relieves Harry to see him smiling a little bit.
“The reason a higher number come from Slytherin is because of the traits the Sorting Hat looks for,” Draco goes on to explain. “Traits like determination and cunning aren’t, on their own, a bad thing. However, when the person who has them doesn’t have strong morals, they can use them for bad things. Most Slytherins, though, just want to get high marks and make something of themselves; not take over the world.”
Scorpius is nodding now, his breathing calming down again. “So… I can be determined to become a famous Quidditch player, and that’s okay?”
Draco grins at him, and the sight makes Harry’s heart fill with fondness. “Absolutely.”
Scorpius beams, eyes darting between Harry and Draco. “Thank you,” he says, impeccably polite. Draco nods at him, and he runs off again.
Harry sighs, his shoulders finally feeling lighter. He stands up, holding out a hand to pull Draco up too. “Well done, Professor Malfoy,” he says, tugging Draco into him. “You solved our problem very well.”
Draco swats at him, but allows himself to be kissed when Harry leans in. “Actually, Professor Potter, I rather think you did all the hard work before I got here,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.
Harry laughs, squeezing Draco and pressing another quick kiss to lips. “We’d better get back to our rooms before the students see us touching,” Harry mock gasps.
Draco chuckles, sliding his hand into Harry’s and threading their fingers together. “Can’t have that.”
Harry smiles to himself as they walk back to their shared quarters. Scorpius will have an amazing time in Slytherin, as long as his determination is limited to careers, and not annoying his fathers.
Then he might have a problem.