Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
The first clear memory Scorpius had of his grandmother occurred when he was four years old.
He had been preparing for some fancy party or the other, clothed in formal attire, and his grandmother had smoothed his hair and fussed with clothing and said to him, "You'll break many hearts one day."
Unfortunately for him and his grandmother, that prediction hadn't exactly panned out, because at sixteen years old, he was still bookish, inexperienced, and hopelessly infatuated with Albus Severus Potter.
And if that weren't bad enough, there was the small fact that Rose Weasley had found out about his little secret in what was a complex tale involving dragon eggs, a Charms textbook, and just a little Butterbeer, which he was, unfortunately, sworn to secrecy on. All through Christmas, he had to endure just-tell-him and do something! lectures.
But he wasn't one for action. His plan was to coast through his last years at Hogwarts unnoticed with stellar grades and quiet reserve.
Fate, it seemed, had other plans.
He and Rose were studying in the library per usual, when she suddenly stopped him in the middle of a speech about the pros and cons of Veritaserum in everyday use.
"Look. Albus is in the library. Come on, let's go talk to him," she said to him in a low voice.
Immediately his blond head snapped up- it couldn't be. Albus Potter was never in the library. To tell the truth, no one really was, with the exception of him and Rose. To his extreme mortification, the tall figure striding toward them was, in fact, the one and only Albus Severus.
Desperate, Scorpius and prepared to tell her to rescue him, because he had no idea what to do say think feel. Instead, he found that she was already chatting animatedly with her cousin, and was beckoning him over with a cheery wave and sly smile.
So he had no choice but to painfully stumble his way over to them. It was times like these that he wished he had at least some Malfoy in him, because his father and grandfather were known to stride around in elegant, haughty manners all the time.
But, you know, it took real muscles to walk, and Scorpius was rather lacking that department. He was also rather lacking the department of social skills and being able to carry on an actual conversation, so he left the library blushing and stammering while Rose sighed and shook her head at him.
It happened on an autumn night.
Really, he had absolutely no bloody idea how he had ended up on the Quidditch pitch at two a.m., feeling reckless and strange and just a little bit intoxicated. His plan had been to wander around until he could get enough air to regain his bearings, and then slip back into the dorms without anybody ever having to know about the events of the previous night.
Unfortunately for him, Albus Quidditch Captain Potter was there, surveying the pitch with the intensity that was rivaled only by the intensity of Rose's gaze when reading a particularly rapturous book.
He attempted to quietly slip away. But, thanks to his extraordinary luck, the person he was currently trying to slip away from decided to turn around and spot him from a distance.
For Merlin's sake. Why couldn't anything go his way?
He heard Albus' voice, as if from a distance.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Where's Rose?"
Scorpius' voice sounded shaky and unstable to his own ears. "I-I'm here to, um, fly. No, that doesn't sound plausible, does it? I swear, I'm not trying to blow up the school or go to some secret Neo-Death Eater meeting or-"
"I get it," came the other boy's easy reply. "You're not as bad as I thought."
"Um…thank you, I guess." Seriously. This was scientific proof that Scorpius Malfoy could not, under any circumstances, be even remotely close to cool.
"Don't worry. I didn't mean that as, like an insult, or something." A pause, then, "I have something to ask you. I mean, can I ask you a question. Not in a weird way, though."
"Alright."
Albus seemed to be grappling with some invisible force, desperately fighting for breath and trying to force words out of his mouth. Scorpius could just make out in the dim light the outline of his hands, which were choosing to wring themselves repeatedly, and his jaw, which chose to clench and unclench.
"Are you and Rose dating?"
Of all the questions that Albus Potter could have asked him. Scorpius had never expected this one.
"No, no, no. We're not—it's not like that. We're just, um, really close friends."
"Oh. I'm sorry—it's just that you guys are always, you know, together. Why aren't you guys snogging yet?"
Scorpius blanched. This conversation, besides being wildly uncomfortable and awkward, was also entirely unexpected. He could make excuses and provide some logical explanation as to why he did not find Rose Weasley remotely attractive, but the truth came out against his will.
"I don't like girls. I prefer guys. Not like, I hate females. I mean- I'm fine with everybody, I just-" he was blushing beet red, he could feel it.
"Oh. Okay," Albus replied. His voice was without surprise or inflection. How curious. He had expected the shock and surprise that had been on his parents' faces, or the endless slew of questions that had followed his confession to Rose.
Instead, Albus just looked him in the eye and said in what was possibly the most collected and composed voice Scorpius had ever heard, "We're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, Scorpius Malfoy."
And that is how it begins.