Disclaimer: Nothing of JK's is mine, and it never shall be.
AN: This will probably eventually end up mature, so I am ranking it there. It certainly will end up M for language. There is some Ginny bashing, and a hint of Weasley bashing later on. The Weasley bashing is minimal though. There is slash, so as usual, if thats not your thing then don't read on. That said enjoy...
"Who are they?" I asked, without letting any interest creep into my voice. It was second nature to never give away my emotions, and my father Draco Malfoy, had trained me well.
I felt, rather then saw, Liam Zabini look towards where I had my eyes casually directed. His eyes flashed with a bit of surprise. Liam had never been able to completely cover his emotions. A little too much of my Aunt Pansy in him; still, he was able to recover nicely.
"Scorpius, they're the sons of the great Harry Potter if I'm not mistaken."
I nodded for him to go on when it became obvious that was not going to grant me a run down without some sort of prodding. Hateful man. He only kept his thoughts when he had rare and valuable information, or wanted to make a point of it that I was lacking knowledge. Which was decidedly rare.
"They are Lord Harry Potter's only children. James is the taller one, supposedly a little more outgoing with intimates than his younger brother, Albus. I believe they are seventeen and sixteen respectively. Story goes, at least from rumor because no one has confirmed it, that their' mother Ginerva Weasley got a little sick and tired of being the home wife to the great Harry Potter. This is after he became an auror. Supposedly she not only cheated but made the mistake of getting involved with some ex-death eaters. I believe some sort of gambling was also mentioned, though again purely speculation. Some sort of confrontation occurred, but the take home is Harry Potter took his then toddler sons and left the country. The divorce was handled quickly and quietly, and all associations with the Weasleys ended. The media had a grand time trashing both sides. Anyways, the older sons seem to still be able to claim an intimate relationship with the Potters. From what I know they grew up abroad traveling everywhere. Actually my father once told me while seeing Potter's picture in the prophet, that it was quite sad. The man was supposedly quite rash and loud during Hogwarts, but now he's at the opposite end of the extreme. There were even some rumors that he went a bit dark." Liam shrugged, as though he didn't quite buy that last bit of information.
I listened to every word, soaking it in as I stared at the young men. Well, Albus more specifically. The ballroom was full of the most influential wizards and witches in the world, and Albus looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Not that he wasn't covering his panic well, he was, but I'm much better at masks then he could ever hope to be. A life time of constant practice. Still, he looked the part of a noble son.
Harry Potter's sons, eh?
Or Lord Potter-Black, and most the world referred to him. My father never acknowledged that the man had his inherited titles. But then, my father was a proud man who had been denied the one thing that he had always wanted.
His magical match.
He'd never said it of course. However, it wasn't hard to figure out. Not when he kept a picture of Lord Potter in his nightstand. Of course it wasn't a normal prophet shot, or some posed picture of Harry Potter- Savior, if you hadn't heard- with a grin shot. No, it was Harry Potter looking haggard after the final battle. I never understood why he chose that one picture, but then my father and I had a complicated relationship.
I loved the man more than anything and respected him, but well, things would always be complicated. Of course that was expected when your father married your mother for the sole purpose of obtaining a heir, and then divorced her before you took your first breath. Literally, the barrister stood outside the delivery room! First wail and the quill started moving. It shouldn't be surprising though since Malfoy's were never very subtle about discarding what they no longer wanted. At least privately.
Staring at Albus though, I thought I could at least fathom the "Potter" appeal. Albus was different of course, but he had the same legendary eyes as his sire. His hair was a deep brown, that could pass for slightly black, until you saw him next to his father, who's hair was black as a raven.
I took him in with my eyes, soaking up the details I knew others would miss.
He was dressed impeccably, though more towards muggle dress then wizards; tuxedo instead of dress robes. That was more of the fashion now though, and not necessarily a proclamation on his father's legendary muggle loving background.
The man carried himself well, I noted. Something that could have only been learned through lessons which in itself posed some questions.
I realized that Liam, though making casual conversation, was keeping an ear out for my next thought.
"Their father was known to have decidedly muggle leanings."
It was the way we talked. No questions; just statements. Liam and I had been practically raised together, and he knew exactly what I meant.
He turned sideways toward me, cutting out a few people, and giving the message that they were to back off for a few moments.
"Yes, however that was before he was, well, deceived. The boys were to have an average half blood childhood I would imagine. However, Lord Potter took up his titles and control of all business holdings after that incident, and raised his sons as befitting his station. I'm told they attended private schools, and had the best tutors out there. Not pompous ones with resumes, but the functional ones. They associate only with their intimate group, and I'm told that though they are quite selective they still spend a good deal of time in the muggle world. Merlin, knows why."
His voice held a good deal of bafflement. As though the concept of someone who had all the money and prestige one could hope for, and still venture into the muggle world was a mystery. A common belief amongst purebloods still, one fostered by Liam's mother, but it held no magic superiority undertones. Just confusion.
It was decent information. Rumors and speculation for the most part though. I never counted on rumors.
I watched Albus walk with his brother, chatting with acquaintances but rarely accepting any new introductions. They were polite, charismatic even, but they held themselves aloof. I watched his green eyes roam the room, and willed them to connect with mine.
Somehow I knew they would, and a few moments of patience paid off. Our eyes connected and I watched for any facial changes, but the man was surprisingly adept at masking any. The only cue he gave of acknowledgment me was a slight opening of his mouth.
I felt a tugging on my jacket, and finally turned back to the conversation effortlessly, as Liam warned I was becoming a little too obvious in my interest.
Yes, I was very interested in Albus Potter-Black.
An hour later I figured I had waited long enough to gain an introduction. I scanned the ballroom, looking for the right person to ask, and as luck would have it the current Italian Minister of Magic was talking quite amiably with the Potters. Liam's uncle was a surprisingly good contact to have sometimes.
I made my way around the dance floor, not catching the eye of any women or men who were trying to catch mine. As if I would ever consider them? They had to be mad.
I casually made my way up to the group of five that included Liam's father, uncle, our own minister, and the Potters. Liam's uncle, Nicholas, noticed me first and I nodded in the Potter's direction for an introduction.
I saw the man smile a bit. He was sometimes too damn perceptive. That, or he knew how finicky my taste was. Probably the later.
"Al, James may I introduce Lord Scorpius Lucius Severus Malfoy. Scor, its my pleasure to introduce to you Lords Albus Severus, and James Sirus Potter-Black."
I bit back a choking laugh. At least I knew what I could say to get his attention, but I immediately stuck my hand out to the eldest first, as was his right. He acknowledged me with a slight lift of the head and small quirk of the lips, pumping my hand exactly twice. Perfect manners.
I moved my gaze to Albus and lingered over the handshake two counts longer then proper, showing my interest but not disrespect.
"It seems our fathers both admired the same man."
I made the comment lightly, and got a small smile in return. He must have noticed that I kept his hand a hair longer then proper, but he didn't acknowledge it.
"Yes, though I am sure they admired and knew the man quite differently." He said it quiet and steady. I detected a faint accent but couldn't place it.
"Most assuredly."
"I didn't see your Father come in Scorpius." I loved my Uncle Blaise fiercly, but wished he'd shut up at the moment, as he forced me to take my eyes away from the complex green ones I had been feasting on.
"No, he's in France right now. Latest acquisition took a little longer than he had anticipated." I suddenly got an idea. "However, he will be back for the World Cup tomorrow."
I turned to Albus again. "Do you plan on attending?"
James answered for him. "Our plans are not firmly settled. We may be meeting our father in Romania."
I made sure that I kept the surprise from my face.
"Forgive my boldness, however I have grown up hearing stories of your Father's great skill on a broom. I assumed there was no way Harry Potter would miss a Quiditch match. Especially the World Cup."
I tried to make light of it but realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say, as James smile tightened to one of all teeth. I evidently hit a nerve.
"You are mistaken. Our father has never watched nor taken part in the game. Though my brother and I sometimes do, but it is a sport designed for those with too much time on their hands. Idle brains are not useful ones. Excuse us, but we promised a word to Lord Longbottom and I've just spotted him."
Any hope I'd had went out the door as James left with Albus right beside him, Albus whispering furiously to his brother. They did indeed make their way to Neville Longbottom who embraced the boys in a solid hug which was returned with enthusiasm.
I turned to Uncle Blaise in question.
"What the bloody hell happened?" I whispered.
He looked at me surprised, and I shrugged. If I couldn't lose my temper with family, then it was ridiculous to distinguish them as such.
"Actually I am not too certain, but he was right. I can't remember seeing Harry Potter at a Quidditch game in years. Quite odd considering he was the youngest seeker in a century. Could have gone pro, and it was obvious back then that he loved the game."
"Really?" Nicholas questioned. "I've known Harry and the boys for quite some time, and can remember vividly that the boys were not allowed to play Quidditch. They were allowed to learn to fly, and every position of the game, but they most certainly were not allowed league or friendly games. Harry mentioned once that it was frivolous. That he wouldn't allow his son's heads to drift in the clouds. I never quite understood it, but the boys seem to accept it."
"I imagine it has something to do with the Weasley bint." Blaise said harshly. I took it all in quietly. Since I knew nothing it was best to let them talk without interruption.
"She played on their Quidditch team during school, orr could be because her most public affairs were with Professional Quidditch players. I suppose it could be for a thousand different reasons." Blaise sighed at the end.
"She really fucked him up, didn't she?" I questioned lightly, while taking a sip of champagne from my glass. My uncle didn't seem to take it lightly. Instead, he looked considering at the Potter heirs.
"Harry Potter went from a rash half-blood, with too much Gryffindor pride and honor, to a quiet man anchored in determination to not get close to anyone."
And then he shocked me. "Merlin knows even you father thought about trying to snap him out of it."
My father? Merlin, I always thought the man was just too chicken-shit to do anything about his obvious… whatever it was, for the Savior of the World. Magical matches were nothing more then that, and rarely did they meet or end up together.
I watched Uncle Blaise glance to Nicholas, who nodded and hauled off the English minister who had stayed quiet during the whole encounter. Either the man knew nothing, and wanted information, or he knew it all and wasn't going to say anything.
Blaise motioned for me to follow him outside, which I had no problem doing. I hated to admit how eager I was for information. I had patience though, and it was tested as my uncle stood by the rail on the large veranda and lit a cigar. Merlin, I would never understand my father's generation love for the things.
"I don't know how much you know, but your Father and Harry Potter were quite the pair at Hogwarts." I nodded. Stories of their fights were legendary, and definitely not anything new. Blaise smiled slightly, as though he understood my derision at the need for privacy at known information.
"Of course that was only the half of it." Now he had my attention, and by the bloody smirk, he knew it.
"Well, I guess I should amend that. Harry Potter thought that was the whole of it. He never understood that as much as the Slytherin's hated him, towards the end they pitied him even more."
Why on earth would they pity Harry Potter? The man was a legend, with power that rumored to rival merlin himself? He had money, friends, favortism among staff…well except for Severus Snape.
"You see no one realized until, I believe it was, the end of our fifth year that Harry Potter was to be pitied. We had all assumed that he wore ratty muggle clothing because he didn't want to associate with his pureblood side. We all assumed he was throwing the fact that he would not rely on his inheritance money in our faces, while the rest of the pureblood heirs used their vaults without restraint. Merlin, Scorpius we had meetings about how much we hated him. Finally it was Snape who let the truth slip to Pansy."
I was enraptured, I have no problem saying it. Hanging on every word.
"Pansy was prattling how Potter should date Weasley because he seemed determined to never spend his money, and they were moneyless blood traitors so that was a match made in heaven, when Snape cuffed her on the back of the head and laughed harshly something like, "maybe if he knew.""
Silence reigned for a few seconds, and it was obvious Uncle was deep in thought. Merlin knew I wasn't about to interrupt though.
"I think that was the beginning of our knowledge though. We all paid more attention in our own little ways. It certainly helped when someone overheard Dumbledore arguing with Severus about Potter. I don't even remember what it was about, but by the beginning of our sixth year we all put together our research and realized that we hated a boy that knew nothing. Potter was nothing more then a pawn. We all thought he chose his muggle relations, another smack in the face to the pureblood lot, but turned out they hated him and vice versa. The boy had no idea that his school vaults were not the Potter vaults, and he had no idea the house they told him his parents owned was a small shack compared to what the Potter estates consisted of. I remember it like it was yesterday as we sat around the Slytherin common room, those of us that leaned light or neutral in our own minds, and realized that Potter was to be pitied. I don't think even Harry knew the whole story until he went through documents, which was after Weasley's incident. What's certain is that he learned Dumbledore, although a good man underneath it all, had kept Harry exactly as he wanted him. The man probably even loved Harry in his own way, but still Harry was a pawn to be kept thankful to the Order."
"Which brings us around to your Father. I don't think he believed it at first, but he watched Potter with care. Draco threatened everyone, though under the guise that Potter was for the Dark Lord to deal with, that they would deal with him if they ever laid a hand on Harry Potter. Your Father was attracted to Harry from the beginning I think… or maybe the word is drawn to him. Yes, that's it. And once the Weasley ordeal went down I watched your father scope every article for truthful information. At one point I think he even tried to approach Harry but by that point Harry had found out about the billions of galleons he had and fled Europe. I'm sure the treachery mounted to a significant amount, and for years no one got close to Harry Potter with out guards getting in the way. Your father seemed almost sad, and truth be told so was I. At Hogwarts your father and Potter both challenged each other like no other could. Ying and yang. I don't think either would have enjoyed Quidditch if not for each other. Pans who mentioned once that it was like pulling a school-girl's pigtails half the time. Unfortunately the person Draco pulled the hair of never understood it the reasons behind it. None of Potter;s friends bothered to help him out in that area either. After all, he was supposed to marry a Weasley."
It was so much for me to digest. Who knew if Uncle Blaise was right, but somehow I knew he was. It certainly fit together a lot of pieces of a puzzle that I had not known wasn't complete. Merlin knew Hogwarts a History certainly had some facts dead wrong though. There were other things I still wondered about.
"Why didn't my father go after him? I mean Potter's been available for years now."
Blaise looked thoughtful, and then shrugged, and looked at me.
"I don't know Scor. Maybe he did and Potter rebuffed him. Maybe your father figured it was too late, or maybe this is all in the past and your Father got over it."
Definitely not the last. I made a habit of checking his night table and the picture was still there. Other pictures of Potter came and went, and I had no idea what he did with them, but that one picture on the battle field stayed. With all the information I thought it made more sense that Potter had rebuffed him at some point. My father was a man who hated, or whatever the emotion was, Potter for years all because of a stupid handshake misunderstanding. And I only knew of that fact because of Aunt Pansy's exasperation with my father when he was drunk one night.
I started to turn away but was caught by my Uncle's question.
"You're interested in Albus."
Well, I wasn't surprised. I had made it obvious enough.
"Maybe."
I could hear his low chuckle. "Word of advice Scorpius, only go for it if you plan on being in it for the long haul. He doesn't do casual fucks like you do. And two, don't be an idiot."
I had no idea what the last comment meant, and wasn't sure I wanted to know. I nodded my head and walked back inside, leaving Uncle to finish his cigar.
Immediately I was immersed in women's perfume and gave a chilled smile as I made my way back to Liam. I searched for Albus, but found him absent. Damn, I had wanted to at least have a small conversation with him.
"He left about five minutes ago, security in tow." Liam whispered, and laughed at my expression, which I quickly fixed.
I nodded and then resigned myself to another hour of flirting and chatting before I could go home. My Uncle was right about one thing, I was too young to want anything other than flings. And merlin knew I never had to chase anyone. People flocked to me not the other way around.
I watched my nephew in all but blood walk away from me and flirt for another two hours before taking the bartender back to his flat. I mentally winced, and wondered if the Malfoy generations were doomed to always be this stupid about the Potters. Surprisingly Lucius had been an utter idiot around James Potter too. Of course Lucius had hidden the lust behind the hate very, very well. At least according to my mother.
Draco had never come up to scratch when it came to Harry, and it seemed as though Scorpius would do the same thing as Lucius. Sow his wild oats for a few years, gain a reputation, and watch from a far as the Potter who he was doomed to admire fell in love elsewhere.
Malfoy pride had won out for three generations. I didn't know if I was supposed to admire the strength of that DNA trait or pity it. Merlin knew it never had made anyone happy in the end.