Warnings: (Whole Story) Adultery/Infidelity, Angst, Violence, Swearing, references to male/male sexual acts.

Total Word Count: 21,180 (First Chapter: 1,400)

Kicking Up Embers

Chapter One

Scorpius looked up anxiously at his father as they hurried through the wide glass doors into King's Cross station. The poor boy had never been anywhere Muggle before. He didn't understand these people with their tight-fitting clothing, grimy little shops and huge electronic notice boards. Draco longed to hold the boy's hand, not just to reassure him but to keep him close and safe, too. He was eleven years old, though: much too old to be seen touching his father in public.

Draco went for an encouraging smile instead. He would have winked, but that would have been so out of character that it would have alarmed the child. Astoria said nothing and her face betrayed no emotion. Draco suspected that his wife was holding her breath, scared of inhaling some air which a Muggle had exhaled.

Silently, in determined strides, they made it to Platform 10. Draco nodded sharply to Astoria to go first and Scorpius watched her intently as she walked through the magic barrier.

"Ready?" Draco asked.

Scorpius nodded, his mouth set in a firm line, although his eyes were still wide and wet. Draco wondered how he had produced a son who was as scared and as repressed as he had been all his life.

The House Elves waited on Platform 93/4 with all the trunks. How had an eleven year-old managed to acquire so much? The Express was waiting, blowing scented steam over all the families. Scorpius and his mother eyed the other Wizards warily and Draco understood that their expressions would be read as disdainful. He worried for his son. He would be thrown among these children in whose homes the name 'Malfoy' was infamous. He recognised some of them, of course. He chose not to acknowledge them.

A whistle blew and, with a quick nod which would have to stand for all the kisses and hugs, sobbing and declarations which none of them would ever display, Scorpius stepped onto the train. They did not linger to wave him on his way. In a choked whisper Astoria told Draco she had "things to do" and Apparated away for a long cry in a locked room.

Draco understood that she needed to be allowed some privacy. Merlin knew he needed to take some for himself. This was all too much. He hadn't imagined how hard it would be to give up his son for several months. He hoped Scorpius hated school less than Draco had for most of the time. Draco strode back through the barrier with a posture which he knew would be misread as arrogant.

Now he was stuck in the Muggle part of the station and he needed to piss. He would just have to be brave and find one of their public conveniences. It stank, of course, and to get in he had to queue up at a turnstile and waste one of his Muggle coins. He watched the yellow arc of liquid hit the porcelain urinal and wondered whether this was a sign of ageing. Had he got so desperate because there was a problem with his prostate?

No! He was too young for that. The only thing wrong with his prostate was that it had been years since anyone had slammed into it repeatedly. He couldn't afford to remember that. The other families on Platform 9 ¾ , that was what had started him thinking about it. He had to block it out.

So he thought at first that he was imagining things when a certain wizard walked in. The colour rose up his face and he looked down. He hurriedly tucked himself away and turned to the wash basins. He really was there. He was standing by the mirrors and staring at Draco. He was real and flesh: not Draco's imagination at all.

Draco moved to the end basin, the one furthest away from where Weasley stood watching him. He washed his hands.

"I saw you come in here," Weasley said. He moved a little closer.

Draco looked round warily but the Muggles were not taking any notice.

"It's been a while. Just wondered how you were." His voice was soft enough: unthreatening.

"Fine." Draco nodded crisply. "Doing very well. And you?" he added politely.

"Oh, you know," Ron replied, with a shrug of one shoulder.

Draco looked around frantically for a towel.

"I think about you sometimes," Ron added, his tone so flat that it must have been hiding something.

Draco snorted. He started to shake the water from his hands.

"Oh, it's this." Ron moved closer to an irregular metal box on the wall and gestured towards it. Immediately a rattling roar came from it. "You put your hands underneath."

He stepped out of the way so that Draco could move warily closer to the hand drier. If they had been more relaxed around each other then their shoulders might have brushed, but they held themselves carefully. Warm air was blasting out and Draco placed his hands into its stream. He was aware that Weasley was looking at him; he wanted him to go away.

"It was you who dumped me, you know!" Weasley hissed angrily.

"Didn't take you long to replace me," Draco snapped back. He checked the room again, but still the other occupants ignored them.

With an almost invisible flash of his wand, Ron cast a Muffliato . Then he said, at a normal volume, "You made it perfectly clear you didn't want me. What did you expect me to do?"

"I went looking for you. Years ago. But you were already married to your Mudb -"

"Don't call her that!"

There was a pause, both of them breathing too heavily, but neither of them leaving.

"I guess she was always your fall-back plan."

"When I knew I couldn't be with the one I ... with who I really ... oh, you know. I told you enough times how I felt about you. It didn't change. I still -"

"For Merlin's sake don't say that. It's too late." Draco stared at his own reflection in the shiny metal, unaware that the machine had stopped blowing at him and that his hands were nearly dry.

"I thought I might as well do what everyone expected. She's my best friend. It's been ok."

"I'm glad." Draco could see the insincerity in the face looking back at him. "I'm married too, you know."

"I know. I saw your son. He looks like you."

"I allowed my mother to arrange something. Once I knew you were ... taken care of." He looked at his shoes, anywhere that wasn't Ron's frowning, freckled face. It was too late. They shouldn't be talking about the past.

"But you didn't care about me. You told me that. It was over. Final. You moved on. You make it sound like I -"

"I had to make you think that, you stupid man!" Draco looked up at him; their noses almost touched. "I thought you would have worked it out by now." He sighed. "The Dark Lord's death left a power vacuum on our side. They were dangerous times. They would have used you to get to me."

"What are you saying?"

"You had to believe it was all over in order between us to be safe! But once things had settled I came looking for you to get you back. You already had her - so I went away again."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

Draco sneered. "What's your Occlumency like, love?" He saw the shiver created by that last word and regretted using it.

"It's ok."

"No, it's shit!" Draco paused and took one last look at Ron before starting to walk away, saying, "You're too honest. That's one of the things that makes you so special."

He had hoped that would be his parting shot, but there was a turnstile to negotiate to get out and it slowed him down enough for Ron to catch up with him.

"It's too late, isn't it?" Ron asked. Draco tried to filter out that hopeful waver in his voice.

"Yes. Too late," Draco snapped back, looking over to where Ron's wife and son waited patiently for him.

Author's Notes: This story was originally written for the live journal dracobigbang. Many thanks to the amazing mods who organised that.

Thanks to tania_sings for her patient beta, despite her feelings about Draco, to daiseechain and songquake for very helpful beta-ing of the second draft, to emansil_08 for all of the advice, encouragement and suggestions, also to deathjunke, and stuckinsea for reading and encouraging and to littleenglolita who read every word out loud to me and snickered and suggested and made it all work much better.