okay so my sexuality's a complicated deal so let's just call me queer as hell
nono I wanna know can't you explain it
well ok mainly I am asexual which means I don't want to do the do nor do I long for it, so it has nothing to do with lack of confidence or anything like that, I simply don't find anyone sexually attractive
but I'm also bi romantic. The sexual and romantic attraction are different, and I still fall in love and want to have physical contact with my partner, I just don't need the hanky panky
right cause you have a girlfriend that's pansexual right
exactly and as long as we're both happy with not doing the rumba naked, that's a valid relationship
I get it, I get it... I didn't know the entire sexual and romantic orientations were different
yeah I know it was an eyeopener for me when I found ou-
Lady behind us in line:
excuse me so sorry but I couldn't help but overhear but I didn't know half of what you just said and I was just wondering what that thing your girlfriend was is, pansexual?
*awkward glance at friend* oh uh I'm not an expert or anything and uh ok so basically it's similar to being bisexual, but there's less value in what gender the one you're attracted to is, at least as I understood it. So a bisexual would be attracted to a person despite their gender, a pansexual wouldn't really care at all in a way uh I'm sorry I'm bad at explaining
Lady behind us in line:
that's alright I can look it up myself later you gave me a general idea! So where did you find out these things, you're pretty young?
well, Internet. Once you're a bit confused about what you might be you usually go looking for explanations...
Lady behind us in line:
so uh in theory... It's fine if you don't know, I just want to check with you... Is there a thing called aROMANTIC? like you're asexual, is there a equivalent to the romantic orientation you mentioned?
oh yeah, absolutely! You can be both asexual and aromantic, or aromantic and heterosexual, literally all combinations are possible!
Lady behind us in line:
*smiles LIKE REALLY GODDAMNED GENUINELY* thank you so much, I did not know that. *fishes up phone from pocket* now if you excuse me, I'm going to call my mother and tell her I'm not crazy for never having been married or stayed with one guy for long despite being 50+ but still has three children! *steps out of line and walks off while dialing*
wow that was... Amazing
see how happy she got? That's the power of right information.
And that's why I've been smiling since this happened.
Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.
“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.”
The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.
“Did you want something?”
“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.
And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.
“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”
“I want my friends to come visit.”
Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”
“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”
Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge.
“I see. For how long?”
“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”
Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”
I want my friends…friends…how often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables.
“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”
Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”
Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”
“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”
“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”
“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”
“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”
Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click.
Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front.
Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.
“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”
I just wanna stay in the sun where I find Pieces of peace in the sun’s peace of mind I know it’s hard sometimes Yeah, I think about the end just way too much But it’s fun to fantasize On my enemies who wouldn’t wish who I was But it’s fun to fantasize
Oh, oh, I’m falling, so I’m taking my time on my ride
*Lyrics from Twenty one pilots - Ride
Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum in the happy days before Altissia, Final Fantasy XV
“The thing about Joan I keep coming back to is the incredible weight she carried from childhood, the terrible abuse, poverty and a mother who never wanted her. She carried this incredible sorrow. From there, she climbed to the top. Her ambition was monumental. MGM taught her how to walk, how to talk- there’s this Mid-Atlantic upper-class accent- and yet there are moments when you see it all fall away.” -Jessica Lange
“…very disturbing childhood, raised by a tyrant of a mother who whipped her causing bleeding welts across her legs…young Joan’s father had abandoned the family. Her brother Hal showed no sympathy for her. Her mother’s second husband Mr.Henry Cassin was kind to her, but he also left the family. Sent to a catholic boarding school, St. Agnes, she worked at waiting on tables because her mother could not afford tuition. Finishing her curriculum at St Agnes, her mother found her Rockingham Academy, in Kansas, who took her on as a pupil in exchange for her cleaning fourteen rooms of the mansion, scrubbing toilets, bathing the young children and tucking them in bed. She got five hours sleep on average. Life was hard at the academy as the principal would also beat the child. She tried running away, but was returned and further beaten. Neither her home nor school allowed escape from beatings. While Joan was schooling, her mother had a new man installed at home and he too would beat Joan mercilessly…this was when she dreamed of becoming a professional dancer.” -Vince Voice
“She had a Dickinson childhood. She was abandoned by her father before she could even remember him, then her stepfather abandoned her. She was forced to go to work in schools at the age of nine, clean toilets, she was beaten by her mother, by sadistic school mistresses, she was treated as a third class citizen by the other students in those schools.” -Bob Thomas