Chapter 1: Have a Bad Faith

He was awake. More aptly, he was now aware that there was darkness and silence that encapsulated him, that he was lying on something soft, and that his head was likely split in half. Oh, not silence, there was that murmur of noise that he couldn't make out. But there was still darkness. His eyes were closed. He was just waking up, then. Should he? His eyes felt too heavy to be opened, but his mind was definitely too restless to just go back to sleep, the voices were to be blamed as they grew louder. He gave up sleeping and strained his ears to listen. Slowly, the noise—words—began to make sense.

"—sure nothing—"He could only catch snatches from this high-pitched voice. It was familiar, and for some reason it made his mind stir. Whose voice was it that he felt he ought to have recognised in matter of seconds?

Then there was another stream by a lower-pitched voice—still feminine, though. Who, again? This one wasn't important then. "—mind—potion—ask—"

They were very loud now, as though they were standing right next to him. His curiosity won and he forced his eyelids to open, only to shut them again as soon as the light hit his cornea. It was too painful; he would not open them again until much later.

The first voice made a squeal. He winced—or tried to; it made his ears ring and his head throb.

"—opened, I swear, Madam Pomfrey—" On the bright side, his comprehension was getting better. So he tried opening his eyes again, this time slowly. The light was still blinding, but he forced the eyelids to stay where they were. The girl squealed again. It actually helped him making it to half-opened eyes. He let them adjust to the brightness. Once it no longer stung, he opened them fully.

He was greeted by a round object with white background. He squinted slightly. The squeal was coming from this round object's—face then—red opening—lips. The face was framed by a cascade of red—hair. On the face were two bright points—eyes, brown eyes that were very warm and seemed to have light on their own.

"Lily." The word jumped out of his mouth without much processing. His stomach was behaving oddly; it felt like it had just gone through a flip-flop.

The girl—Lily—nodded. Her bouncing head was a cute sight, he decided, and his mouth wanted to curl. His stomach still had a nauseous quality to it, which somehow worsened when her lips quivered. "I'm so glad you're finally awake! Madam Pomfrey said you would wake up some time between today and next week but I was still worried because this is Belinda we're talking about and she's about as good at Potions as Al is at flying," she said all this very fast and without breathing, tears were forming in her eyes, "and I was so worried, maybe she poisoned you, I don't understand why, I mean, we're best friends, and you never fought—"

"That's enough, Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey said curtly, her lips thinned in disapproval. He didn't agree with her, though, he would like to know more—never mind the fact that his eyes were starting to close again.

"No, let her—"

Madam Pomfrey sent him a very sharp look. "You will rest, and you will leave him alone." She shoved Lily away. He was consoled by the fact that she was very reluctant to comply. "You can talk to him again when he's fully recovered, but right now Mr. Malfoy needs his rest!" She had finally managed to get Lily outside the ward. "And please, do not alert Mr. Potter."

Potter? Which one—wait, there were two Potter boys, weren't they? Lily's brothers? He felt dislike rising when he thought of an older Potter, but when he got to the younger one, he felt a tug and a pang that he would not be able to see him right now. What was his name…Al? Asp?

He wished Lily would stay, he needed to know why he was in the Hospital Wing; he was not here often, someone else was.

Who?

He could not summon a name or even a memory to it, for his eyes finally snapped shut and his brain followed suit.

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The second time he woke up, his senses caught up pretty quick, and he could identify immediately the grinning visitor above him. Messy black hair, wide and rather weak green eyes—they could only belong to one Albus Severus Potter. "Asp." His mind was rather quick too now that he could summon that nickname.

Asp's grin only got wider. "And good morning to you too, your highness Scorpius," he said lightly. Asp plopped down on the feet of his bed. "Well, how do you feel?"

"Sick." Asp raised an eyebrow. "Oh, fine, I felt like someone had taken a large chunk of my brain." It was quite true, he still couldn't dispel the feeling that someone should be there beside Asp, someone that he also wanted to meet, and yet at the same time he dreaded it. He frowned. What put him in the Hospital Wing?

When he voiced this to Asp, the Hufflepuff's grin vanished to be replaced by a thin smile. "Potions accident," he said evenly. It was Scorpius' turn to raise an eyebrow. Asp tried to fool himself into believing he was a good liar; he, Scorpius, could see through it like a child through a glass. He continued staring until Asp relented. "Oh, well, you know, the usual." Asp's eyes darted around, another telling habit of his. "You, er, got involved too deeply with our family. Lily's not here because she has practice, by the way." And once the subject was changed, Asp's eyes were back on him. "They're up against Slytherin next, and you know how James gets. Completely mental."

Scorpius thought it was supposed to be funny, but he couldn't laugh. He also thought he had recovered, but many of his thought processes were halted—he knew he was usually very quick-minded. He had the accident to blame, whatever it was. He gave up on that train of thought; he'd just play along with Asp's small talks for now.

"And how much homework do I miss?"

Asp gave him a sympathetic look. "A boatload, mate. You'd be lucky to finish them by the end of the year."

Scorpius groaned. Asp's lips twitched; to his credit it didn't budge. "You can always plead them to lay off—you're Scorpius Malfoy, the top of our year, I'm pretty sure they'll understand."

"Not in OWL year they won't. And I'm not the top." As with Lily's name, this sentence too just jumped out. A moment later he wondered just what OWL was, or who the top was then.

Asp finally smiled. "Oh, well, you two are always alternating so I guess the average's the same. Anyway." He was changing the subject again, though from what Scorpius didn't know. "Lily said she'd drop by as soon as practice finished so if you dared to fall asleep she'd hex you awake. I personally would like to see how Madam Pomfrey would let that happen." Asp laughed softly.

Lily wanted to see him. It made his heart swell and he had to force himself to remain neutral (why?). "Right."

"And beware of Hugo or James or...every Weasley, actually." Asp looked at him apologetically. "Just pretend you're knocked out or still has Flobberworm mucus for a brain."

"Huh?" Who were they? They didn't spark a memory and therefore are insignificant. From the sound of it Asp thought they were important though.

"I'm pretty sure they mean well, but they have always been slightly, er, biased against you. Sorry." He stood, preparing to leave.

"Wait, you're leaving already?"

Asp scratched his head sheepishly. "Madam Pomfrey said we shouldn't talk to you too much yet, afraid it'll jog your memory so much it'd get scrambled again." Seeing Scorpius' scowl, he added, "I said yet. Usually I wouldn't care but I think I should give the opportunity to Lily, don't you?"

His head was inclined to nod; a part of his brain that was still dead objected to it. Asp saw this as well for he said, "Just give it time, you're not fully recovered yet." As soon as Asp disappeared, Madam Pomfrey appeared and started fussing about inappropriate visiting hour and noisy visitors. He tuned her out; she wouldn't tell him what was wrong with him anyway. He closed his eyes, hoping it would drive the matron out. It worked, because now she left him alone with his thoughts.

Lily. A beautiful flower, fit for a beautiful person. (Did he say that to her?) Was it really Lily? Something in the befuddled part of his mind kept trying to object or say something, though it was muted by the lightness of his healthy mind and the swelling in his heart. He couldn't wait to see her.

She didn't come.

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Lily showed up the next day's afternoon with a little more hysteria than he anticipated—if he didn't know any better he would have assumed that she thought depriving him of her would malnourish him. He smiled as she rambled on and on; this was a part of her personality and it amused him at the same time it exasperated him; he wouldn't mind talking to someone a bit colder but less enthusiastic…

"—I mean, he's the captain and all, but everyone knows he's a lousy Seeker. Why can't he just be the Beater I'd never know, I mean, Dad's a Seeker but he's James not Dad! Sometimes I think he's keeping that position just to aggravate Rose—"

That name struck a chord, a chord that was half-way between harmonic and dissonant and made his head throb painfully. "Wait, who?"

Lily clapped her mouth, looking horror-struck. It irked him somewhat: what was the point of baiting him and his memory? "Didn't you say Rose?" How odd. He wanted to say the name again as much as it revolted him. He kept his gaze at Lily. She looked torn between obeying the matron or her natural impulse of expository; he could practically see her weighing both options.

"Are you sure you don't remember?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes, I'm sure," he answered impatiently, annoyed by his headache. If only he could just access that part of his memory…

She bit her lower lips. For a second he considered asking her again, but then she answered, "My cousin, the only Weasley in Slytherin, and their Seeker, and that's why I think James' being a competitive macho prat." She said all these very fast as though hoping that this way he would miss some of the information and thus not able to overload his poor memory. She didn't succeed. His brain was pounding as soon as Lily started talking, but he could care less: the pain was the proof that this Rose was the key to his condition. He gritted his teeth in frustration—how was it that a person could make him want to meet her and spat at her at the same time, and kept eluding him every time he was about to grasp his memory of her?

He focused back on Lily, about to ask her to elaborate more. Much to his horror, her eyes were glistening with tears and her lips were quivering. "I'm so sorry!" She wailed. "Belinda's usually very kind and nice, so I don't know what has gotten into her, ooh, this is all my fault…"

"No, it's not," he blurted, desperate for anything to stop those tears. Lily openly sobbed. Scorpius wanted to faint then and there; it would be so much easier to do than to deal with a crying girl.

"B-But, look at you!" She wiped her eyes; more tears flowed out. "You have to stay in the infirmary for two weeks, and this is your OWL year, too, and I know that your father's grumpy about your grades—"

"I—I'll be fine!" He lied frantically. "I'll recover soon and—oh, please Lily—"

He could almost kiss Asp for appearing right at that moment, his vibrant green eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, hey, Lily, I didn't know—" Scorpius' stomach and relief was turned upside down when Asp gaped, then set his jaws. "What." Asp's voice was eerily high-pitched, and the air around him crackled slightly with magic. Scorpius was officially doomed. "Did you do to Lily?"

Correction, Scorpius wanted to Stupefy himself. Or rather, Stupefy the two Potters in front of him.

"None of your business!" It was Lily who answered. She had stood up, and despite that she wasn't much taller standing than sitting, he could see Asp balking down slightly. His surge of affection for her was tinged with slight guilt that he did, in fact, have a hand in making her cry.

"It is, you're my sister," Asp replied defiantly, but his tone was even and he no longer had the freaky aura around him. "Well, anyway, I need to talk to Scorpius."

Lily pouted. "About what?"

"Boy stuff."

Lily didn't move. Asp sighed. "Not fair, when you say you want to talk about girl stuff I have to get out…" He cleared his throat. "Ah, that's right, James is looking for you."

The redhead groaned. "Again? I swear, I'm going to persuade Neville to take his Captaincy." She stalked off anyway after kissing Scorpius on the cheek and while muttering under her breath.

Scorpius rubbed the spot where her lips had met his skin, the warmth of her touch had spread all the way down to his toes. Asp's throat-clearing brought him out of his stupor. He wished he hadn't, Asp was now giving him a half-smirk-half-grimace.

"What?"

Asp shook his head, plopping down on his usual seat. "Just be grateful you're my best friend. Actually, if I have to give my sister to anyone it might as well be you."

Scorpius' face was heating. "Yeah, well, it's not really your right. What do you want?"

"Oh, so now I need an excuse to talk to you." Asp rolled his eyes. "Well, Your Highness, it just so happens that I'm fulfilling your number one need…" He paused dramatically, groping into his pocket, then made an impressive gesture of presenting his palm. There were tiny square button-like objects on it—shrunken books, he realised. "Presenting, your books and assigned homework, courtesy of my cousin—the Dursley one—and, er, the other one who shrunk it." Here Asp's eyes darted around temporarily. Scorpius had a distinct impression he knew who. "We had to do it the covert way because Madam Pomfrey absolutely insisted that you stay away from any brain-using activities for at least a week." Asp carelessly dropped the miniature books on the bed sheet. "Prolato Salvus." The books expanded to their original size and weight. Scorpius cursed Asp's lack of insight—these books were heavy and they were on his legs. "Oops, sorry. Anyway, if she gets nosy the spell is Viesca Salvus Apocryphus." The books shrunk back to their button-state. "Don't ask where it comes from. Oh, and your wand is on your bedside. You are to stop reading and/or writing as soon as the headache starts."

Asp, he decided, needed a new nickname for snakes were among the quietest and deadliest of the animals, and this one did not do justice to them. Scorpius was more interested in the spells, though. They sounded like self-created spells; Asp's slip and Lily's revelation as well as a nearly-bubbling memory gave him an idea who. "Who is Rose?"

Asp, previously having fun with levitating the button-books around and therefore was caught off guard by his question, nearly fell off his perch. "Uh, why'd you want to know?" He stuttered, trying too hard to appear composed.

Scorpius sighed. "Lily had told me, but she said you'd know better. I know she's your cousin." Asp heaved his shoulders in resignation. "And she's probably related to my 'accident', probably even the cause of it—"

"Merlin, no!" Asp shook his head so forcefully Scorpius feared it would get unhinged. "Well, you can say that she did—but not directly! Never, she's your best friend too!"

"Huh?"

"As good as you two can be with your feuding fathers anyway—"

"If she's my best friend," he almost spat the two last words, "then why are you and your sister the only ones who visit me?"

Asp grimaced and glanced around. Once satisfied no one else was around, he leaned closer. "Madam Pomfrey will go ballistic, and I agree with her, but...I think that can wait. Mind you, she's not exactly happy about it—"

"Mind telling me what's wrong with me?" Scorpius asked, his temper rising. He was tired of being handled like he could become a vegetable from the weight of simple information.

Asp hesitated, again avoiding his eyes. At that moment, Madam Pomfrey once again interrupted whatever discussion Scorpius managed to have with his visitor. She drove poor Asp out like a panther chasing out a lost squirrel, and then fussed over Scorpius with lectures of getting some rest so that he could get out earlier and make the ruckus outside, sniped at how mindless and rebellious teenagers these days were, and threatened him to drink all of his medications lest he wanted her to write a letter to his parents. He grudgingly obeyed, endlessly wondering how she knew his weakness. Father would not hear about this, or Scorpius would never hear the end of it. He was partly grateful Grandfather was now safely beneath the earth, unable to prattle about pureblooded-ness and being weak and the endless junk.

Under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eyes, he spent a good part of his sleeping time being irritated at himself for remembering what his rotten Grandfather had droned on and on about his family, and not remembering about the more important thing that was his recentmemories.

When she was out of sight, however, nothing stopped him from devouring his books. Two weeks! He had barely had time to rest when he had been healthy, how would he fare now that he had missed a week and a half? Of all the years to be admitted into the Hospital Wing it had to be his OWL year. Perhaps he was infected by Potter-Weasley bad luck after all.

He could not even get a decent dream. That night he was in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with its tight canopies and little sunlight, right in the middle of a patch of lilies and roses. He wanted to pick both of them, but a white snake had come out of the ground and slithered around him, hissing 'only one, one only, not two, not both'. A moment later while he hesitated shadows of four-legged beasts danced around him, and he headed to the lilies. When he did, he heard a roar, turned around, and saw that the patch of roses had turned into an angry red dragon; it was opening its mouth and breathing fire out...

And then he woke up, already forgetting the stupid dream except for the feeling that it was extremely ridiculous and went right back to sleep.

Note: This originally belongs in 'The Other Side', specifically in the fifth year, but I scrapped that idea. This one is meant to be a light reading and a practice in drama—take a heed that drama is my least favoured genre and I have little to no experience with it in real life or otherwise.