“It’s time to rise and shine! Get up kiddo, glory to the morning!” A tall, athletic-built man barged into a spacious bedroom containing a slumbering boy. The boy had a mop of blond hair, all strew across his pillow, his mouth wide open, and a trail of drool made its appearance running down his cheek. He looked no more than eleven years old. Groaning, the boy lifted the covers over his head and moaned lazily, “dad, get out.”
The man rolled his eyes and took long strides to the large, curtained window. With an audacious pull, the curtains were drawn aside, spilling golden light, and revealing the breath taking view of the country side. The boy underneath the covers still did not budge. Rolf sighed.
“Okay Lorcan, game’s up. It’s eleven in the morning and you know these habits can’t continue!” he ordered sternly, all playfulness in his voice evaporating. He eyed the lumpy figure beneath the blankets with disappointment when there still was no reaction. The figure didn’t even look like it breathed. Shaking his head, he made his way to his son’s bed. He was left with no choice. Tugging away the blankets roughly, he smirked when his son let out a yelp.
“DAD, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!” Lorcan shouted, sitting up in bed, strands of his blond hair swept in all different directions. He eyed his father with an attempt of contempt; his grey eyes squinted with all ferocity he could muster. Despite the instant state of anger however, he looked certainly groggy, as if he didn’t get sleep enough. Rolf clicked his tongue and shook his head in disproval.
“Tough luck champ, Hogwarts isn’t going to let you sleep in if you tried.” The father said seriously and sat beside his son. The boy sniffed in impatience and looked away. He could act like a snob when we really wanted to…
“Well, I’m not at Hogwarts right now, am I?” He retorted, mustering all coolness and wit into the petty comeback. Rolf chuckled and looked over to his son.
“Boy, aren’t you on a roll this morning. You haven’t even eaten breakfast and you’re already giving me some lip. Oh I can’t wait until your professors get a turn to handle you.” Rolf mused and chuckled again at his son’s scandalized expression.
“Take that back!” Lorcan whined, grabbing his pillow that was propped behind him, and whacked his snickering father with it. Rolf simpered in glee as he tugged the pillow away from his flustered son’s grip. He winked mischievously, smiling like the daredevil would, and his son let out an angry huff.
“I’m only messing with you; you’re the best kid a dad can ask for.” At this, Lorcan brightened some and rolled his eyes knowingly. His father always teased him, sometimes barely off the cliff’s edge. “And there’s that smile I was determined to unleash! I knew it was hiding somewhere.” Rolf poked at Lorcan’s side, making it clear he was teasing all over again. Lorcan shoved his father playfully.
“Daaaaad,” Lorcan droned, but smiled none-the-less. “I’m not four!”
“Bullocks! You’ll always be my little Lorcan-schmorkin!” Rolf said, puffing his chest out pompously. Lorcan giggled at his father’s silliness, then blushed out of embarrassment.
“I’m not little either!” Lorcan pouted, crossing his arms, a frown painted on his lips. Rolf let out a laugh that filled the spacious room.
“Don’t be silly, Lorcan. You’re still yay’ high.” Chuckling, Rolf swung himself from the edge of the bed, standing up. Turning to face the young boy who was eying him admiringly, Rolf grinned. “And how about cooking brunch, yeah? I’m starving, and I’ve been waiting hours for your lazy bum to get up.” He watched as his son frowned.
“I’m not lazy. And you didn’t eat yet? What does that have to do with me?”
“Nope,” Rolf said, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Because what father would I be if I helped myself to breakfast while my kitchen buddy was in bed? That would be horrible, why it’d be a scandal!” Rolf dramatized. Lorcan snorted and crawled to the edge of the bed, bouncing off.
“Then let’s go make ham and cheese omelets—with hash browns, and—French toast!” Lorcan announced, continuously rolling his eyes up in thought. Rolf grinned down at him and ruffled his son’s blond mop of bed head. Lorcan cringed at this sign of affection.
“Well, then the chef has spoken! Omelets, hash browns and French toast indeed!” Rolf repeated in a synchronized fashion, and watched as his son bounded for the stairs, leaving him to stand alone in the empty bedroom, dwelling on the creeping thoughts. He hated when those thoughts seeped in, trickling into his undistracted mind. Usually it would be thoughts of being alone. Particularly lately since Lorcan would be leaving in a few days. Other times it would be about her—especiallyabout her. That’s why he busied himself so much with his son and studies—to get away from the gaping holes in his life.
Good Godric’s. Get a hold of yourself, Scamander. You both are over. You both chose separate paths. You are ENGAGED! Engaged with a new woman you vow to love… A small voice hissed into his head.
But if I love her…then why do I still think about her? Rolf thought exasperatedly.
Foolish man, you’re confusing your pronouns between two different women… The voice teased maliciously, leaving Rolf to groan.
“Dad, I thought we were gonna make breakfast?” The sound of a boy broke the inner conversations within his mind. Rolf blinked, startled by his hovering stance between reality and voices. He found himself looking into the eyes of a slightly concerned boy, standing at the doorway.
“Breakfast? Why? What about it?” Rolf asked absently, and Lorcan arched an eyebrow.
Funny, I swear he inherited that habit from her…
“Breck-fust,” Lorcan broke down the word slowly. “We were supposed to have ham and cheese omelets, and French toast, and—”
“Yes, of course. Break—err, brunch! Godric’s how could I have forgotten?” Rolf face palmed to hide his humiliation and found Lorcan staring at him completely bemused. Walking towards the doorway, he gave his son a tired smile and swung an arm over the confused boy’s shoulders. As they walked down the stairs, Rolf couldn’t help but accuse a certain blonde witch in his mind.
Thanks Luna! Because of you, I swear, I believe my mind has an infestation of Wrackspurts!
“That was a good breakfast, Lorcan.” Rolf complimented his son and watched as Lorcan stuffed his face with the remaining toast. He also couldn’t help but snicker as he observed Lorcan drown down his mouthful of food with orange juice. He was only eleven now, and Rolf could only imagine him at sixteen.
“It sure was, dad! But you helped too. I would’ve burned the house down.” Lorcan replied, but despite the modesty, his eyes couldn’t hide the pride that glazed brightly. He always felt good when he knew he was in his father’s good books.
“Yes, that is true.” Rolf nodded, grinning. “But all the same, having my little kitchen helper makes things all the more better.” He winked and Lorcan beamed.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Lorcan’s head swiveled automatically to his father, a ‘dude-are-you-serious’ look on his face. There was only one person who could knock on the door without the advanced authorization of his father.
“Is it Adele?” Lorcan asked in a monotone voice. Rolf quirked an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Lifting his glass casually, he shrugged, letting his brown eyes study the blonde boy with the misty eyes of his mother.
“May-be.” Rolf said setting his glass down. “Maybe not.” He shot his son a mischievous grin, and watched as Lorcan rolled his eyes. Laughing, Rolf stood up from his chair and made way towards the front door.
Sitting there dumbfounded, Lorcan sat and waited for the front door to open and the sound of a woman’s voice to echo throughout the house.
“Rolf!” squealed a feminine voice as a sound of heels clicked onto the wooden floor. Lorcan cringed as he helped himself to another glass of orange juice, spilling it outside the rim when the sound of kisses emerged. As disgusted as an eleven year old felt, he couldn’t help but take advantage of the fact he wasn’t seeing it play out before him. Sitting back down on his chair, he took a few sips and envisioned his own mother.
Though he had never even seen a photograph of her, he knew he had her hair. No one in his father’s side had the blonde locks of straggly hair. And he knew he must’ve had his mother’s eyes as well. He wondered how she smelled. Did she wear perfume of only the finest and seductive like Adele, or did she wear a fragrance more mild and sweet? Were her smiles charming and full of laughter, or were they secretive with a hidden meaning?
When Rolf and Adele came into the dining room laughing, Lorcan snapped out of his thoughts, and faked a smile at the woman his father was engaged to.
“Oh Lorcan, come here you beautiful boy!” Adele squealed with joy, and shuffled forward, ready to pinch his cheeks as if he were three. Lorcan’s left eye twitched as he painfully managed to keep his smile up.
“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Adele.” Lorcan crowed, and Adele laughed in a high soprano, giving Lorcan a small hug and patted his back before drawing away and squeezing his cheeks.
Bleh! She’s so annoying.
“Oh, your son, Rolf, I can’t get enough of him!” Adele swooned, turning to face her fiancé. She bustled forward and wrapped her arms around Rolf’s neck, looking up at him like a lovesick puppy. The sight was enough to make Lorcan sick. Adele then stood up on her tiptoes, despite the fact she was already wearing two inch heels, and planted a kiss on his lips, running her fingers through his hair. And Rolf? He was kissing her back.
Despite the fact that his father was too busy sucking face to even notice, Lorcan flashed his father a glare of distaste. When the face sucking continued, Lorcan finally gathered the guts to groan out loud,
“Dad, stop snogging her!”
So after a long time of putting this on hold, I decided to continue it again. I found a new passion to continuing this and hopefully you guys like it!
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