𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

little april shower (d.m)

Draco finds comfort in a childhood memory, hoping to pass it on with help from the spring rainfall.

Warnings: Just a whole load of fluff!

Word Count: 1.2 k

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It was a gloomy day, keeping you all indoors as ‌fog swept the skies. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, where it had once provided sunlight to the blooming plants of spring. But it was now time for them to be watered, as the pitter-patter of rain echoed through the Manor walls where you all sat happily for a family feast.

Draco loved visiting his mother, no longer afraid of the home he grew up in. Narcissa worked hard in shedding their dark image — putting her beautiful gardening skills on full display.

An array of colours now filled the meadow, welcoming Draco and his young family for a pleasant visit. Scorpius Malfoy took a liking to the blue petunias that littered the yard, reaching out to them whenever his stroller rolled by.

Stories had been shared and stomachs had been fed as everyone fled from the dining table. Narcissa's dinner party had been quite a success until you found your son sobbing by the bay window. Maybe it was the late hour of the evening, or the vibrant flowers found outside, but it had the youngest Malfoy crying a river as he thrashed around from his place in the sitting room.

Draco had retreated to the yard only a moment ago, searching for a quiet place to put his son to sleep. He prayed the rain would calm the horrific cries that left his son's lips. Draco couldn't help but wonder how his precious baby boy was responsible for the most dreadful of sounds.

"Aren't you tired, love?" Draco cooed, rocking the infant in his arms just the way he liked it. The porch swing provided him with safety from the rain, but left the baby's curious eyes to wonder. Even through tears, Scorpius desperately reached for one of the garden's vibrant petals.

Draco plucked one from its place in the soil. "Is this what you want?" he chuckled, watching as his son's tiny hand clung to the stem. Scorpius pouted, his eyes still ‌wet with fresh tears. But his cries now fell quiet as he examined the delicate colours from up close.

Draco wondered if it had something to do with the atmosphere. He could hear you chatting with his mother through the window, thinking fondly on the sound of his two favourite voices. You never failed to ‌calm Scorpius — the voice of a mother deemed a beloved sound to his little ears. But Draco understood the feeling.

Though there were no pretty roses to lay eyes on, Narcissa Malfoy always had a gift in ‌lulling her restless son to sleep. Draco had often stayed awake on purpose, hoping to coax a familiar tune from his mother before each nap. Thinking back on it now, Draco wondered if Scorpius might like it too.

"Drip, drip, drop

Little April shower

Beating a tune

As you fall all around"

The words fell from his lips so easily, as though it hadn't been years since he last heard them. His voice, Draco winced, was not nearly as good as yours. He'd been there countless nights, sitting by your side as you sang your two boys to bed. There was something special about the way your hands stroked through their hair, coaxing yawns and drowsy eyes with nothing but your touch. Nevertheless, Draco continued, noticing that tears no longer slid down Scorpius' soft cheeks.

"Drip, drip, drop

Little April shower

What can compare