Just remember to always think twice

[Valcan Drage]

Out of Character:

The title quote belongs to its respective authors. I own nothing.

Valcan's love for cigars only intensified as he aged. He admired their ability to soothe his nerves after a troubled thought or undesirable encounter; this offered him control where control came slowly. The old Norwegian drew in the bitter taste, letting it linger before exhaling a plume of smoke. He knew well enough how the practice affected his health, but he couldn't give two mandrake roots about that matter. Valcan loved to smoke, and he would do so until the day he kicked over some buckets (and maybe a cauldron.)

Sighing as if his lungs would give out, the wizard stared over the coastline. Some days he would sit on the balcony, watching the water yet keeping his distance. His family had been blessed with a beautiful home. September days like this were perfect for lounging around and doing absolutely nothing- Valcan could afford to, after all.

 

[Sumner Drage]

Sumner Drage cocked a dark eyebrow at the tiny house elf who bowed him into the prestigious home of his grandfather. Sunlight drifted through the many windows and reflected within the young man's eyes, appearing lighter than the grey sea outside them. His heart was heavy still from the loss of his first child, a tiny being who'd only made itself known for a moment to him and his wife before the Gods called their babe to their waiting arms above. Bitterness had flowed within him, swirling in his hot blooded veins to mesh with anger that still boiled from his tongue. The only person he was gentle with was his wife. Strong emotion hitched the breath in his strong chest and love lessened the harsh line of his full mouth. Lily, his beautiful Lily. She kept him grounded, slapped him down when his moods overtook him. It was she who kept back whatever it was that was rapidly darkening within him. His mouth still tingled from where they'd touched upons hers; she hadn't wanted him to see his grandfather. No, she hadn't voiced it, yet he could read it within her deep blue eyes. He'd laughed and promised her he'd come back hail and whole; perhaps only nibbled upon.

He didn't see why she was concerned. His grandfather was, for lack of better words...cool. Sumner looked up to the stern man as much as he did his own father. He wished the two could stand to be in the same room, it would make things easier on their young kin. A smirk, identical to theirs, washed across a face tanned by hours of Quidditch. His nose twitched from the smoke wafting from the open door to the balcony.

Pure nerve had him sauntering through to the balcony without a leave from the older man already there. Pure arrogance had his feet propped upon the small deck table, his bum firmly planted on a chair beside it. But it was the cockiness that ran through his paternal bloodline which had the cigar, swiped from an open box, clamped between strong white teeth.

"So old man," Sumner said jovially as he lit the tip, "just what was so important to steal me from my warm bed?"

 

[Valcan Drage]

When Valcan laughed, the whole world had to cover its ears. He had been born with the roar of a lion. Being quiet was not within his capabilities now that he had retired from the Ministry. His voice thundered over the balcony, rolling over the shoreline to be swallowed by the sea. The aged wizard always seemed at danger of explosion. Vile as he may be, Valcan still liked to laugh. Those who didn't have an affection for humor were simply not worth his time.

"Do not complain, lat, it's the afternoon. You should have dragged your ass out of bed a long time ago." The big Norwegian grinned, smashing his cigar into the ashtray. Fat as the thing was, it had no chance beneath his meaty fingers. "How has the Quidditch season been?" Proud as he was of Sumner for playing the noble sport of Quidditch, Valcan felt it a pity that the boy did not play for the Karasjok Kites. The old man's loyalty to his nation was still strong. He tried not to think about how raw he still was over leaving the Ministry.

---

1. Lazy
2. Ass/Arse, your pick

 

[Sumner Drage]

Infectious, the laughter struck him, his deep laugh joining that of the older man. It was one of the things that drew him to look up to the ill reputed man. His grandfather was himself, unapologetic in his views and emotions. Skin tight with youth crinkled at the corner of Sumner's eyes. "Had my nose set five times already," he chuckled, puffing on the cigar, enjoying the breeze that ruffled the slightly overlong hair that curled at the base of his neck. "If I don't taste blood, it was a shite game."

Light eyes regarded the man he'd known for a short period in his life yet had come to respect as much as his father. "You've not asked me here for game plays." He didn't question, merely stated it and waited to see what it was that required his attention.

 

[Valcan Drage]

Valcan leaned back in his chair. It was a miracle that the thing didn't splinter and snap under his weight. The man craned his neck, his eyes mirroring the heavens above. The expanse was blue and basted with clouds, but Valcan knew better; there would be a storm later. The skies could not trick one who'd watched them for seven decades. The older wizard's smile sobered as his attention returned to the younger.

"No, sønn, I haven't," Valcan admitted. What he had to say had nothing to do with Quidditch, as much as he loved the sport. It was the only sport as far as he was concerned. A minute's passing churned the air into something thick and heavy. The master of the mansion wasn't laughing anymore.

"For what I have to tell you, I hate to be the one to do so."

 

[Sumner Drage]

Sumner considered the older man and many retorts passed through his mind but thankfully not through his lips. Grandmother up the duff? Laughter crossed through his eyes before they became as serious as his grandfather. "I'd wondered when this day would come." He spoke quietly, forcing his tense muscles to relax. Harsh smoke filled his lungs as though he were trying to build a fire and provide warmth from within. He didn't puzzle that it could be any number of things; he knew it for what it was. Except this time he wasn't a frightened little boy. He had his own family, he didn't need anybody but Lily. "Have you removed me from the Tree yet?"

 

[Valcan Drage]

The Norwegian coughed on the smoke then, hacking for all he was worth and then some. His massive hand wavered over his mouth, just in case he had to catch a lung. He glanced over Sumner through pools of water. Those cigars were good; too good. Valcan snatched another and shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you, Boy," he said quietly, though firmly enough that his words wouldn't bounce off Sumner's brow. "Tristan's not your father."

 

[Sumner Drage]

Try as he might, he couldn't stop his eyes widening in alarm. The coughing spell was over and done before another of those fine cigars was lit and held within his grandfather's capable hands. Sumner studied his own beneath his dark fringe of lashes, thinking how much alike they were to the other man. He allowed his bones to relax. Then swallowed and looked away as relief rushed through him. He wasn't to be tossed away, as his mother had done to him. It seemed old hurts never went away.

The moment didn't last long.

"Who?" Sumner spoke quietly, a faint tremor shook his raised hand as he took a moment to draw from the once fine tasting cigar. It was like ashes in his throat. Even as he asked, he knew. He didn't want to hear this.

 

[Valcan Drage]

Propping elbows to knees, the aged wizard puffed quietly at his cigar. During difficult moments like these he would've given up all his pureblooded heirs for a Time Turner that brought him back years, not hours. How was he supposed to answer Sumner's question? There were manuals for practically everything in the wizarding world. Bookstores were obese with how-to books for fools and instructions in daily matters for the common magic-user. So far, there wasn't a Dimwit's Guide to Telling a Bastard Who His/Her Father Is on any bookshelf in Oslo. The two broad fellows would have to survive without a copy.

Valcan extended his arms as if to embrace the smoke. He didn't need to respond. Sumner was a Drage, after all; he could figure things out.

“Apparently, when your mother is drunk, she puts the word drunk to shame.”