The rambling memoirs of

Scorpius Malfoy

which are almost completely to do with

Albus Severus Potter

And exactly why the hell we ever even spoke to each other.

I was eleven years old, with a chili bowl hair cut which I hated, and my father's words ringing in my ears: "Remember, you're a Malfoy!" It wasn't like I was ever bloody well allowed to forget it, either. To this day, people I don't even know will sneer at me because I'm Draco Malfoy's son, or worse, Lucius Malfoy's grandson. I had been sorted right and proper into Slytherin house (even after I had been almost sure I'd end up in Hufflepuff) and was looking forward to things being the way they should. Albus Potter's older brother James had been sorted into Gryffindor, and as he stumbled up the stage there was no doubt in anybody's mind that he would too. That was why the entire Great Hall seemed to gasp, and then everything went eerily silent, when the sorting hat shouted SLYTHERIN!

And the little twit was grinning! Not in a smug, 'ha ha, I knew it' way, but a shy, pleased and genuine smile. He didn't seem to notice how little applause he was getting, just hopped off the three-legged stool and scurried over to MY house table. Of course, at that time I had no idea what his dad had said to him at King's Cross, nor did I even recollect that his middle name was Severus, though there was quite the buzz about it when he was born. The idea that a Potter, especially one that looked so much like Harry Potter himself, should be in Slytherin had never even crossed my mind. Albus Potter belonged in Gryffindor! We were supposed to be casual rivals, battling wits, trying to best each other, and dammit if every bit of advice my father had given me wasn't contradicting themselves in my head, until I felt more lost and alone than ever before. How could I form allies and friendships with my housemates, if one of them was Potter? How could I beat Potter at every test, and beat him on the Quidditch pitch if we were on the same side?! My world crumbled around me.

Over the next several weeks I avoided Potter at all costs, even to the point of neglecting my other housemates as well. More than once I was reading through one of our textbooks on the sleek leather couch, only to have Potter come in and sit down to read a bit himself. At these moments, image be dammed, I got the blooming fuck out of there, and barricaded myself in my bed. I didn't make friends; I made good use of the curtains of my four-poster and kept them out of my little world. I didn't even use the Slytherin common room, if anyone else was in there. My grades went through the roof, even as I dug myself deeper and deeper into the pit of despair.

I had been at Hogwarts all of six weeks when I decided to kill myself. I thought I'd do it at the Owlery; send my suicide letter to my father, then jump out the window.

The letter went something like this:

Dear Father,

I'm sure you've heard that I'm getting very good grades in school, but it's just not enough. The only reason I study so much is because I don't have any friends to do other things with. Albus Potter is in Slytherin and I feel like I don't belong at all. I can't do this any more. I'm sorry for being such a disapointment.

Love,

Scorpius

The winds whipped through my hair and over my face as I stood on the window ledge, watching Frances, the gorgeous female eagle owl Father had bought me just before school, disappear into the distance. I took a couple very deep breaths, and was inching my toes closer to the very edge of my perch when I heard the Owlry door open behind me. I didn't care. Let the unsuspecting twerp watch me splatter below, they would tell my father first hand that it wasn't an accident.

"Are you going to jump?"

Crap. It was Potter.

"So what if I am?" I mumbled, staring determinedly at the ground so very far below me, "go away."

I could hear him coming closer to me and braced myself to fight off his attempt to pull me off the ledge. As I predicted, his hand grabbed the back of my shirt, but he didn't try to drag me backwards. Instead he used me as leverage to hoist himself onto the window ledge with me.

"I-if you jump, you'll t-take me with you" the fear was evident in his voice, and when I turned a bit to face him my jaw dropped.

Albus Potter was standing on the edge of a 100ft (more or less…probably more…) drop, one hand gripping tightly at the back of my tailored cotton button-up, the other covering his eyes. He was teetering precariously.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I cried, shifting my weight to put my hand on his chest to prevent him angling too far forward.

"I'm afraid of heights!" he squeaked, surprised at the touch from a combination of fear and the fact that he hadn't seen it coming.

Afraid of heights. I kid you not.

"You can't be afraid of heights!"

"Like hell I can't!" he squeaked, still keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Oh, merlinmerlinmerlinmerlinmerlin."

We were going to fall, I could feel it. My left arm was the only thing holding on to the wall, as the other one tried to keep him from tilting too far forward. Both his hands were occupied, the left one now twisting the back of my shirt out of shape, the other still pressed hard against his eyes. The wind whipped up and slapped my face, causing me to lose my balance even more. We both pressed forward for a moment before I was just able to lean back and push on him hard enough to throw us onto the safety of the owlry floor…and into a whole lot of owl shit.

"oh, disgusting!" I found myself torn between wanting to frantically brush off the bird crap from my favorite shirt (well, I was going to kill myself, why not wear my best?), and not wanting to touch it. I turned to see Potter, not even bothering to try to get clean, looking very proud of himself.

Fuck.

"Stand back!" I said, scrambling to my feet quickly, ready to run out the window rather than let him have the satisfaction.

"Oh no you don't!" he cried, grabbing the front of my shirt roughly (my poor shirt!). We're pretty evenly matched, and I don't see myself getting from that grip easily, though I could sort of pull him along. So we're back to square one: I jump, he comes with me.

"Don't jump." He commanded, all while I'm struggling to get free.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"You can't do anything! You owe your life to me! It's a spell!" I sort of stopped struggling and stared. He can't be serious. Only, he is. He always is, as I would learn over the next few days, weeks, months, and years.

"Wa-What?" I must have looked very un-Malfoy-ish in that moment, but that was another thing I would have to learn to get used to.

"It's a spell," he nodded knowingly, "sort of like the one my dad used." I know the one. Everyone knows the one. That's how famous his dad is, everyone knows an unnamed spell that his dad used once. Once! Well, twice if you count when he was a baby, but that was more cast on him, than him using it on everyone…Everyone!

"Oh, not that one!" he says, seeing the look on my face, "it's a different one. A simpler one."

"Well…what does it do…?"

"Erm, well…" he put the tip of his index finger to his lips in an overly cute way that brought out my best sneer, "I risked my life to save yours, so…now you owe me!" he looked so proud.

"It's not like you saved me from rampaging centaurs or an evil wizard, here, Potter!"

"No, I saved you from yourself!"

"Yeah, yeah…" I narrowed my eyes at him angrily, "what? Like your dad did for mine?"

He frowned at this, instead of the smug smile I had expected.

"I am not my father," he said quietly.

"I'm not my father either!"

"Good, then." Potter was smiling again. I just stared at him, but he didn't seem to notice the ridiculousness of it all, or if he did, he didn't act like it.

"What is your problem?" I asked, mouth sort of hanging open, threading one of my hands through the hated hair.

"I don't have any friends" he answered flatly "I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't. I mean, there's Rosie, but she's my cousin and a Gryffindor, so I don't think that counts. And the thing is, well, it doesn't look like you do either. I mean, you don't have any cousins, right? So you don't even have the have-to-be-friends person like I do."

"What about your brother?" I ask, not stopping to think about what I'm saying.

"I'm not friends with my brother!" the look he gave me was so decidedly Slytherin that I couldn't help but laugh a little. He grinned at my giggle, and as soon as I stopped laughing, a sort of awkward silence settled between us.

"so…" I coughed, and looked to the side, trying not to meet his eyes. Imagine my surprise when a hand was presented before my face.

"friends?" he asked, jiggling his hand a tiny bit, asking for it to be shook. I blinked, meeting those large green orbs and swallowing. Something in my head told me this was a turning point. For good or for worse, something was about to happen.

"sure, why not?" I stuck out my hand and we shook.

Nothing would ever be the same.

I know, I know. "How could you?! You're supposed to updating Trappings!!!"

Don't worry; I'm not giving up on that story! In fact, I've pretty much got the whole thing planned out, but I got this idea and the opportunity to write a Scorpius/Albus just could not be passed up!

Review pwease!

Wotcher (whatever it means)

Flora