1. And Summers are Away
There comes a warning like a spy
A shorter breath of Day
A stealing that is not a stealth
And Summers are away -
-Emily Dickinson
"Mr. Malfoy! An honor this is, an honor. What can we git for yeh?" croaked Madam Bullstrode as Scorpius stepped out of the August sunlight, into her shop in Knocturn Alley. He did his best not to look at the jars of cat's eyes on the counter in front of him, aware that they seemed to be doing their best to look at him. He pulled out his mother's list.
"Good afternoon, Madame Bullstrode," he said with just the right distant politeness for their difference in age and social status. "I need a jar of murtlap essence, pint of frogspawn, porcupine quills, bat guano," he said with distaste, "and chocolate cherries."
"Mmm, delicious," said the burly woman as she started scooping guano into a sack. "'Ow much 'o this will yeh be needing?"
"Oh, I am not sure actually, I...I think that is enough."
"A'righty then, sir, and the box of cherries...'ere...yeh gitting these for someun?"
"My mother."
"Oh I see...thought there might be a young lady...they always like these chocolates an' roses, you remember that, if there ever is a young lady..."
Scorpius frowned.
"Not sayin' there isn' already or...not to stick my nose in, pardon, Mr. Malfoy..." she apologized.
"Murtlap essence, frogspawn, and porcupine quills?" he reminded her.
"Oh yes, o' course! Max! Gus!"
Two boys appeared at the top of a rickety staircase.
"Hello, Erlkonig, Erlkonig." Scorpius nodded to them.
"'Ello Malfoy," they responded.
"Oh yeh know my nephews? But o' course," she clapped her hands together, "yeh play Quidditch together! I hear ye're a good Seeker."
"Thank you. Maximus and Augustus are good Beaters," Scorpius said. The truth was, the 5th and 3rd year brothers were probably better as Beaters than Scorpius was as a Seeker. He kept playing mainly to please his parents; he had lost the snitch to Lily Potter or Zhi Chang consistently. Slytherin hadn't won the Quidditch cup, or the House cup, in any of Scorpius' first six years and he didn't expect to win it this year either, but he took comfort in reminding himself that Slytherin was still better than Hufflepuff.
"Good beaters, that they are. Boys, fetch down a jar of murtlap essence and a bag of porcupine quills for Mr. Malfoy."
"A'right," Maximus grunted and they went, while Madame Bullstrode filled another sack from the bucket of frogspawn.
When Max and Gus brought the things downstairs, Scorpius payed for his purchases and said goodbye. Scorpius charmed the bag with weightlessness, which was not necessary but he was still enjoying the novelty of being of age. He walked down the alley, humming a line of the piano accompaniment to a song by Schubert, to meet his father outside of Borgin and Burke's.
Father was still inside, talking, and Scorpius pushed open the door.
"...a first time for everything, eh, Mister Malfoy?" cackled the elderly Mr. Borgin. "Never seen the like in this shop. Not just a mudblood, I mean a real muggle: wife of some blood traitor, wanting to buy something pretty!"
Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows warily, "Please don't tell me you sold her something—"
"I sold her our old thunder ruby." Borgin grinned. "No harm done, no harm...as long as she doesn't get angry while she's wearing it...ah, your son is taller than when last I saw him. Young Master Scorpio, is it?"
"It's Scorpius." Scorpius sneered, dropping the pretense of respect that he had bestowed on Madame Bullstrode. Greasy old Borgin wasn't even worth that.
"Scorpius, yes, very Romanesque. Away to Hogwarts again next week? You'll be interested in this new item, this invisible book cover. Carry a book into your exams and only—"
"I don't cheat," Scorpius said coldly. "Father, are you done here?"
"Yes, I believe I am."
Borgin hurried forward. "Before you go, Misters Malfoy, I should tell you," he put a hand conspiratorially on Scorpius' arm and lowered his voice, "Marcus Flint got an import of chimaera tail-venom and unfertilized dementor spores. From the Oni himself he bought them, he says. We are meeting here at eleven o'clock on the thirtieth to stew a poison of despair, and—"
"Borgin, we don't—"
"—and as you know, the more wizards help, the easier the stewing—"
"We don't have the slightest interest in it, thank you very much."
"Well then, have a nice day, sirs."
As soon as they were away Scorpius asked, "who did he mean, 'the Oni,' that someone bought dementor spores from?"
"It's a rumor, that there is a wizard in Japan that has a strong control of dementors," explained Scorpius' father. "You know, the ministry here has been trying to get rid of them, and the rumor is that they have gathered to this 'Oni'. Marcus Flint, of course, is always after untradeable goods, wherever he can get them."
"Should we report it? And Borgin, for selling dark items to a muggle?"
"No, Scorpius. I would not advise getting involved."
"But Borgin—"
"Borgin and Burke's has been reported to the ministry dozens of times. They know how to exploit loopholes, so we would not make any difference; we would just make things unpleasant for ourselves. Listen, son," Draco pulled Scorpius aside, to a quiet corner of the alley.
"It is never wise to make enemies. Grandfather and I learned the hard way, that fighting for someone's radical ideals is dangerous. It nearly destroyed us; it was luck that gave us the chance to assume a neutral position at the very last minute in the War, and escape with our lives and freedom."
Luck, thought Scorpius to himself, yes, a certain piece of luck named Harry Potter, the way everyone else tells the story.
"But Father, don't you think that it's wrong, smuggling dangerous material, and hurting muggles?"
Draco bowed his head and sighed, "I hesitate to say what is right or wrong, or even if there is a distinction...I don't trust myself to judge those things."
"Mum has always said—"
"Your mother has a simple and innocent perspective on life, and I would never take that away from her, but if I opposed someone like Marcus Flint, if you opposed someone like Marcus Flint, it would make our family a target and put her in danger. We mustn't do that. We will tread the middle ground, be friendly, and mind our own business. We can accomplish much more through flattery than through force."
Accomplish what? Securing wealth and comforts? Still, Scorpius considered, flattery does seem much more more comfortable than force, and is there anything wrong with being comfortable?
"We Malfoys are Seekers; we shouldn't interfere with the other players."
"No, we just look for the gold..." Scorpius muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Listen. I have said this before, and I am saying it again: Don't make enemies. Don't choose sides. I don't want you to get hurt. Do you understand?"
"Yes, father." Scorpius didn't know if he agreed, but he understood.
"Good." Draco stood tall again and adopted a light, haughty tone. "It's paradoxical really, that as long as we keep our heads down, we can keep holding our heads high; the Malfoy name still means nobility. Let's go meet with your mother."
Scorpius matched his father's stride, and the crowds parted to let them through Knockturn Alley and up to the patio outside Fortescue's ice cream parlor and café.
Astoria Malfoy stood out in a crowd. Jealous observers speculated that she was part veela, but since part human ancestry was worse than part magical ancestry, her family denied such an idea. One didn't need veela blood to be beautiful.
She smiled and winked to Draco and Scorpius when she saw the pair coming up the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, and she moved her chair closer to her sister Daphne's to make room for them.
"Scorpius looks distinguished in that deep blue; I've always said that fair-haired men look best in dark colors, don't you think?" Daphne was saying as they found chairs.
"Yes, and these two look better than any!" said Astoria, "Sit here next to me, Draco...and are those my things from Millicent Bullstrode's? Thank you, Scorpius dear."
Daphne was still rambling about fashion, "I suppose that's why you dyed your hair black, Astoria, so you can wear your summery white and cream robes and still have that dramatic contrast?"
"I suppose so," Astoria agreed absently, "Do you have any more school shopping to do, Scor?"
"No Mum, it's done."
A young house elf in a striped suit and bow tie came out and cheerfully took their orders for lunch.
Aunt Daphne leaned toward Scorpius, "Are you happy that it's your last year, or will you miss school? You have been quite the scholar..."
Scorpius shrugged. He was looking forward to being a seventh year, but the thought of finishing school hadn't quite sunk in.
"Well, I'm glad he will only be there one more year. The changes in staff have been deplorable," said Draco.
"Oh?" Asked Daphne, "you don't like Vector?"
While listening, Scorpius had been scanning the crowds of shoppers. Some kids looked so little, they were practically hidden behind their piles of schoolbooks. Then he spotted the person he had been half hoping, half fearing to see. Rose was leaning against the outside wall of Ollivander's with her nose in Eratosthenesian Calculeux in Design. Scorpius recognized the book, having bought it himself a few days ago. Next to her, her brother Hugo was spinning a small brass planetary model.
Draco answered Daphne, "That's not the problem; Septima Vector will make an excellent headmistress, first Slytherin Head in ages; no, the problems are her replacements. She was Head of House as well as Arithmancy teacher, and there were no other Slytherin teachers, so we governors had to bring in someone new. Terence Higgs."
"What does he teach?"
"He doesn't teach," snipped Astoria. "he will be the referee and flying instructor."
Daphne balked. "And Head of House? That's—"
"That's an indignity to Slytherin house, that's what that is," growled Draco.
"The board couldn't find anyone else?"
"No one."
The house elf in the bow tie brought out their food. Aunt Daphne chuckled disdainfully at the new-fashioned elf, then asked Draco, "Well, what about the Arithmancy post?"
"It's even worse. Weasley."
Scorpius focused on his sandwich.
"Bill Weasley?" Asked Daphne.
"Hermione Weasley."
"What? She can't teach and run the Communication and Cooperation with Magical Beings Division, and edit the Journal of Wizarding Law!"
"No, she is leaving the Ministry and the Journal to go teach. The Beings Division is in the hands of a committee now—half-breeds and animals, most of them. She claims teaching is that important, but it is obvious she wants to be at Hogwarts to look after her youngest daughter."
"That little girl." Astoria added, "you may have seen her—Cute. Different."
Looking over his parents' shoulders, Scorpius did see her. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Rose's younger sister Emilia were coming out of Ollivander's. The short, brown haired girl was holding a wand and grinning from ear to ear. He hoped they wouldn't look his way.
They didn't.
o.o.o.o
Scorpius woke up late on August thirty-first, to the sound of the manor clock striking six. He flung himself out of bed, into some clothes, and down the three flights of stairs.
"Scorpius, it's rude to be late to family meals," scolded Narcissa Malfoy from the end of the long rectangular table, "and you are wearing brown trousers with a black robe."
"Oh...sorry Grandmother." Scorpius took out his wand and wordlessly changed his robe to brown.
Astoria suppressed a smirk. "Sit down and eat, handsome. It's your last day of summer; do you want to go to work with me?"
Scorpius tried to look interested. Watch Mum and Aunt Daphne photograph fashion shows for Witch Weekly? Not fun. "Um, that sounds fun...but Paris is so hot...and I don't really like apparating all that way..."
"You'll get used to apparition sooner the more you do it," his father said while buttering a scone. "If you work in magical importing administration like me, you may have to do cross-Atlantic apparition."
"Yeah... I think I'll just stay at home today, though, and check that I have everything packed."
"I don't mind," his mother said, "I didn't really expect you to want to come. Enjoy your last day to relax, you are going to be busy at school—taking ten classes, Quidditch, and being a prefect."
"Are you sure you still want to take all those N.E.W.T.s?" asked Grandmother, "You could drop Arithmancy, it's sure to be dreadful, when taught by Hermione Weasley...but I forgot, you like a Weasley girl..."
Scorpius' father scowled fiercely. "Mother, that was more than two years ago. Scorpius broke up with her and it is over and done. Right, son?"
"Right," Scorpius lied. Actually, Rose had been the one who broke it off, but he would never admit that to his family. He suddenly felt no interest in his sausages and fried tomatoes.
"Well, I'm glad you realized that a half-blood girl isn't fitting for a Malfoy. Now what about Cristine Burke? She is just the right age, and quite pretty—"
"Cristine Burke is already dating Gerald Portobello."
"Nonsense. The Portobellos are nobodies. I will have a chat with Carolina Burke."
"Grandmother, you don't need to, really." Scorpius said, keeping his tone polite. These conversations were so habitual that Scorpius was hardly upset by them. It certainly wasn't a shock to hear his grandparents insult half-bloods and muggle borns, though when they criticized Rose specifically, he felt a knot in his stomach.
"I want the best for you, Scorpius. You're a charming young man when you try to be; I'm sure you could win over Cristine if you show her how much better you are than a Portobello. Invite her here during the Christmas holiday to show her the manor, and play her some of your music."
All Scorpius knew about Burke was that she and Portobello kept losing points for Slytherin for skipping prefect meetings together, but there was no point in arguing with Grandmother Malfoy, so he smiled and said, "I will give it a try."
The doors opened and a cart wheeled through, pushed by an elf with thick eyebrows, a square jaw and an overlarge white frilly dress shirt.
"Patto hopes the breakfast was good, Sirs and Madams?"
Narcissa turned her nose up; she rarely spoke to the paid house-elf, but Draco answered, "Breakfast was good, thank you, and I presume you took some to my father?"
"Yes, Mister Malfoy finished his scone, milk, and some eggs but wasn't wanting his sausage or fruit. Patto made sure he had all his potions, too."
Draco nodded.
"Patto will be weeding the front lawn today, washing the third floor windows, and making Mister Scorpius' favorite duck a 'lorange and pecan pudding for his last day at home. Is there anything else Sirs or Madams wants?"
"Polish the silver in my rooms." Narcissa said, still not looking at him.
"Certainly, Madame, if Patto has time in the afternoon, or tomorrow..." said Patto with a hint of smugness. He didn't have to obey her.
Dirty dishes on the cart, Patto wheeled it out, and Scorpius' parents both apparated away for work.
o.o.o.o
Scorpius stepped lightly over an old stone wall and crossed a dry stream bed, then watched a flock of tiny birds rise from some tall grass up into a hollow old apple tree as he climbed a hill. The birds only stopped in the tree for a moment before flying on into the sky and out of view. Scorpius kept walking.
He liked the Malfoy manor house, and he liked the front lawn and gardens, but the best part about home was their forty acres of fallow land behind the house. After seventeen years, he could still go walking and see things he had never noticed before. There were hills, and little valleys between the hills; trees, and little trees growing out of trees; and here and there the remains of pre-Norman muggle dwellings.
There was a long barrow near the back of the property; Scorpius knew it was a barrow because he had gone in and looked. There was no reason to be scared of it, since muggles couldn't be ghosts. Their spirits had long since moved on, and their bodies had either disintegrated, or...well, old Malfoys... Scorpius didn't think of the place as creepy or macabre, he just thought of it as a resting place, a little hill that said, "once there were people here." He rested there. Lying down flat in the grass on top of it, he wondered what it was about the afterlife that witches and wizards had the option to avoid, but muggles were universally compelled to face. Scorpius liked muggles, at least all the ones he had ever met (but all the ones he had met were musicians, so naturally he would like them).
Scorpius Malfoy had a double life, an obsession that his parents dismissed as childish and his grandparents would have disowned him for if they knew the extent of it. He studied the piano, with muggles. Mum would tell Grandfather and Grandmother that Scorpius was visiting Andromeda and his second cousin Teddy or that he was going with her to Paris, while he went to lessons and attended summer music camps. Mum was quite a clever liar, as much as people classified her as the empty-headed beauty.
Staring up into the late-summer sky, with his hands resting on his chest, Scorpius let his fingers drum out the patterns of the Berlioz/Liszt Symphonie Fantastique for Solo Piano that he had learned for that summer's national young musician's competition.
He thought about what he had heard from Mr. Borgin. He had let the opportunity for action pass by—eleven o'clock on the thirtieth had come and gone last night, Marcus Flint must have met with whatever accomplices he had gathered, but the world didn't seem any worse off. Maybe Father knew what he was talking about.
There was a hoot, and a sleek bird soared over the trees. Scorpius sat up and held his arm out for his black and white Great Horned Owl, who was carrying a letter from Al.
"Thanks, Antares. Go get a good day's sleep; it's Hogwarts tomorrow."
Antares flew away toward the manor, and Scorpius opened the letter.
Scor,
Sorry it's taken me a week to reply, they've been keeping me overtime at work to help write reports. Yuck. I mean, the experiments are amazing, but the reports are yuck, especially since they have to be written in unique codes and invisible ink.
Sorry you didn't make it to finals. Semi-finals sounded prestigious, though, and my hat's off to you for not cheating, since I assume that if you had used magic at all, you would have won.
Ok, now it's been over a week. Sorry, but in my defence, things are ridiculous over here. I guess you sent Antares back to remind me, so I am finishing your letter and sending it in 5...
Have you started reading "W^LX NYT TK^NZLAT" yet? Man, if there was any chance of being bored this year, Runes ruins it. How does a Rune ruin? I don't know, it just sounds cool and I am excited about it. 4...
Emmie is one little continuous explosion of joy about starting at Hogwarts. I don't think she is nervous in the slightest, so I'm sure she'll be in Gryffindor and we will be happy to claim her! 3...
You were right, I got the bighead badge, though I think it is currently hidden somewhere in James' flat. 2...
Have you changed your mind about doing the A. project with me? See you in less than 48 hours! 1...
-Al
Go!
Scorpius put the letter in his pocket and set out for the house. He wanted to leave Grandmother in a good mood when he left the next day, so he clipped a branch of wild roses, used transfiguration to fix the blemishes, and arrived to lunch at noon precisely.
o.o.o.o
Scorpius spent the afternoon saying goodbye to the other part of home that he would miss: his piano. Scorpius opened the large windows of his upper east wing piano room to let in a breeze, and he played his solo, the Symphonie Fantastique—the dreamy first movement, bright waltzing second, pastoral third...but he didn't play them like a muggle. Setting his wand above the keyboard, he transformed the sound from the piano to take on the timbres and textures of a full orchestra—the blaring trombones and rolling timpani in the fourth movement march, and the piercing oboes and frantic strings in the unsettling fifth.
It left him sweating, and he was glad for the breeze from the windows. He lowered his head and rested his hands on the keys for a minute, then straightened again and played a series of scales, listening to the natural piano sound of his top-of-the-line Steinway grand. He had tried to transfigure a table into a piano at school, and it sort of worked, but it never stayed in tune and had a woody, boxed-in sound that simply didn't compare to his own genuine instrument.
Last he played a few of his childhood favorites: Harmonious Blacksmith, Arabesque, the French Children's Song. While he played, his parents both slipped in and sat on chairs by the wall.
"We will miss hearing you play."
Dinner, at six, was delicious but quiet. Scorpius thought he ought to compliment Patto on the cooking, that was what Rose would do, but was there any point in trying to please Rose?
o.o.o.o
The next morning promised another sunny day for the beginning of term, and Scorpius offered to take breakfast to his Grandfather's room so that he could say goodbye.
The southwest corner of the manor house was always too warm at this time of year, in spite of its stone walls and spacious rooms. Maybe it was something about how the sun hit it, or maybe that was the way old Lucius Malfoy liked it. The portraits on the walls muttered and wiped their foreheads with embroidered handkerchiefs. The ghost of Lucius Malfoy the First filtered out of one wall and into another, oblivious to Scorpius as he carried the tray of food and potions to Grandfather's room.
He knocked on the door.
"Hello, Grandfather. May I come in?"
Scorpius waited a few moments, and when there was no answer, knocked a little louder.
"I have your breakfast, sir, are you ready for it?"
No reply.
"Grandfather?"
Nervously, Scorpius pushed open the door.
Grandfather was in the big armchair he always sat in by the fire; Scorpius could see the toes of his pointy boots on the other side of it. Scorpius brought the tray and set it on Grandfather's spindly, claw-footed side table.
Lucius was sitting quite still with his eyes closed. His face was wrinkled; pride, malice, fear, and denial etched in a permanent scowl on his aged features.
"Good morning, Grandfather," Scorpius said as loudly as he could without shouting.
"You have fried eggs, milk and apple juice, and buttered toast, and all the potions you are supposed to take..."
Still he didn't stir.
"Grandfather?"
At last Lucius twitched and grunted, "What is it, boy?"
With immense relief, Scorpius answered, "I brought your breakfast, sir, and, I will be leaving on the Hogwarts Express at eleven this morning."
Grandfather squinted at him. "Away to school. Your seventh year, is it?"
"Yes sir."
"Head Boy?"
Scorpius sighed. They had already had this conversation at least twice. "No, Grandfather, I am not head boy."
"What? Who is then?"
"Albus Potter."
"Potter! The Potters have been half-blood since 1840," he grumbled, "boy who lived indeed..." Grandfather frowned thoughtfully. "But he did live, didn't he, after Cissa said he was dead...and you lived too, Draco, and so did I..."
Grandfather blinked at the fire, and looked like he might fall asleep again.
"Do you want the tray on your lap?"
"No, no, just hand me the plate of eggs."
Scorpius watched as his Grandfather slowly ate. Then Patto poked his head around the door.
"Mister Scorpius is being wanted to say goodbye to his parents, sir, they is needing to leave for work. Patto will help Mister Malfoy finish breakfast."
o.o.o.o
Scorpius said goodbye to his parents, double checked his packing, and spent the rest of the morning beside Grandmother in her Baroque-designed sitting room, trying to read his textbooks while keeping anxious watch on the clock. Finally at ten thirty he took hold of Antares' cage in one hand and his trunk in the other, spun on his heel and apparated to platform 9 3/4.
Notes:
Ready for an adventure? This will be different than anything I have written so far: longer (probably about 23 chapters, a full Hogwarts year), more intense, and with a more flawed main character than I have written in the past.
They say, "quotation is a substitute for wit," and I say, "perfect. I will just add a few nice quotations at the beginnings of the chapters."
Antares is the name of the brightest star in the Scorpius/Scorpio constellation.
If you are interested in some prequelage, An Unexpected Beginning, A Musical Muggle Meets Magic, A Day to Remember, and The Hat's Jealousies are short stories that happen prior to this one. They aren't necessary for understanding this story, they're just for cuteness and fun.
That's all. Happy Reading!