Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is still the property of J.K. Rowling, and nothing to do with me.
Author's Note: After I posted Covert Operations, I had several reviews that seemed interested in a sequel about what happened when Scorpius met Harry's children. This is that story. If you haven't read Covert Operations, you might want to do that before you read this, but I don't think it's strictly necessary to do so.
Enemy Contact
Draco Malfoy had never been very good at comforting people.
Perhaps it was due to a lack of practice, or the lack of a good example when he was growing up, but he had no real knack for covering up unpleasant truths with pleasant lies, the way a parent was supposed to. Scorpius didn't think that he'd ever forget the conversation that had followed his grandmother's funeral. As grown-up as he'd thought he was at five, he had not been ready to hear any of his father's misguided honesty and plain-speaking.
Of course, this crisis – the arrival of the Potter children – was not likely to be anything like as bad, but he could still have done with some comfort, even false comfort. It had been several weeks since that morning in the kitchen when he'd been tricked into acting like he wanted to meet them, and he'd been dreading the day ever since. Or, at least, whenever he remembered. Still, though, he wished that his father were the sort of man who would smile and say something like 'it's all going to be okay' or 'of course they'll like you', whether he believed it or not.
Instead, Draco had been very understanding, but far too honest for anybody's peace of mind. He'd even told the story of his own first meeting with Harry – and, while it was nice to know that it had all turned out well in the end, Scorpius was not very happy about the idea of the seven years of mutual enmity they'd had to go through first. Or the nearly eleven years of misunderstandings and resentment. Or...
He was doomed. That was all. The Potter children were all going to hate him, and everything would be ruined forever.
At least he now had a better understanding of what was going on between Harry Potter and his father, or what Draco had called 'the nature of our relationship'. This was one instance where blunt honesty had saved both of them a lot of embarrassment, and Scorpius had caught on very quickly to what his father was trying to tell him. In fact, his first response had been to nod sagely and say: "Oh, so like Amélie Zabini's Dad and their groundskeeper?" Which had caused quite a bit of fuss, as Scorpius' father hadn't known a thing about Mr. Zabini and the groundskeeper, and had found the whole idea very funny indeed. Scorpius wasn't sure why. Something about broom closets and protesting too much, whatever that meant. Grown-ups were strange.
Mind, his father had also said that he was a clever spy, which he already knew, but was still nice to hear. However aware he was of his own skills and accomplishments, Scorpius knew that it was the recognition and admiration of others that was really important. Anything a Malfoy did was at least partly for show. He'd learned that before he'd left the cradle, more or less.
And that was the problem with meeting the Potter children, he realised. They were an audience he knew nothing about, and had no idea how to please. How was he supposed to impress the children of one of the world's greatest heroes, children who'd grown up in such an exciting place as America? What if they thought he was boring? What if they hated him? Would his father decide that he was useless and pack him off to live with his mother? Scorpius had a hard time imagining that ever happening – his father loved him, and he knew that – but a good spy always thought about the Worst Case Scenario.
There were three of them, that much he'd already been told. One was a girl, and Scorpius was not all that concerned about the impression he made on her. In his experience, girls were never interested in anything a boy might do or say. The main reason he knew so much about the private life of Mr. Zabini was because his daughter Amélie complained loudly about everything Scorpius did any time he dared to be in the same room as her. If this girl – Lily – would just agree to leave him alone, he would consider that a victory and a blessing.
The Potter boys, on the other hand, were quite a different matter. To have a brother, particularly one so close in age, was to have a built-in friend and ally. They would be close, inseparable, united against him, and there would be no easy way for him to infiltrate that friendship. Not that he cared if they didn't like him, of course. Or, at least, not for himself. But if he didn't manage to 'get along' with Harry's children, his father would be unhappy. Draco wanted them to be a family. He pretended that he didn't, because to say so out loud would be undignified, but Scorpius knew. And he knew, too, how badly his father reacted whenever he didn't get something he wanted. It was this that was worrying him as the date of the meeting approached. He could cope with other boys sneering at him, but not with his father's disappointment.
"I'm sure you'll be absolutely fine," Draco said, the evening before the doom was to come upon them. It was a little late for him to start telling comforting lies, but Scorpius tried to appreciate the effort, at least.
He snorted into his dinner. "I suppose I will, as long as I don't insult the Weasley family. Wouldn't you say so, Father?"
"That's enough smart talk out of you. Unless you want to go to bed without the rest of your dinner." His father was trying to sound stern and annoyed, but it was apparent that his heart wasn't really in it. They'd adjusted very quickly to the new normal, and now nothing felt quite right on those days when Harry wasn't there at the table with them. Or, well, that was how Scorpius felt, and he didn't have to observe his father all that closely to deduce that he likely felt the same.
It had all gone very smoothly, making Harry a part of their lives. Even Grandfather Lucius didn't seem to mind it too much, though he had muttered something about it not being quite what he'd meant by "paying court to Potter". Whatever that was about. Still, now they were both faced with the fact that they still had work to do if they wanted to fit into Harry's life in return.
"I... Father, are you worried? About tomorrow?" Scorpius wasn't sure exactly why he'd asked that. Malfoys didn't talk about their feelings.
His father frowned, but didn't scold him. "I just want you to be happy," he said, though this wasn't really a proper answer to the question. "It would be... convenient if you were to befriend one or more of the Potters, obviously, but I don't want you to think that you have to. Whatever happens, we will find a way to make the best of it."
Scorpius nodded. "Because that's what Malfoys do."
His father's smile was bright and brilliant and true. "Exactly."
The next morning, Scorpius was horribly nervous and trying not to show it.
He spent far longer than usual trying to decide what to wear. His first instinct as a Malfoy was to wear the best robes he owned, so he would look as impressive as possible – but then he remembered how Harry usually dressed. Deplorable, as his father liked to say. Scorpius didn't know that word, but he could tell that it wasn't a good thing - though, whatever he said, his father didn't really seem to mind that much. And Harry did look awfully scruffy a lot of the time, so perhaps his children wouldn't care about the elegant and fancy robes that Scorpius was so proud of. Maybe they wouldn't appreciate someone being better dressed than they could ever hope to be. Eventually he growled in frustration and grabbed his third-best set of clothes. That would have to do. No way was he spending any more time thinking about this. He wasn't a girl.
To make matters worse, when he got downstairs he found that Harry was there making breakfast, which meant that his father was too busy being pathetically lovestruck to be nervous. And... did it mean that the Potter children were at the house already? There was no way Scorpius was ready for that. No. It was too early. They should come back later. Perhaps when he was ten. Or twenty.
He must have made some sort of noise, because Harry looked up from the scrambled eggs and smiled in that way that made it very difficult to hate him. "Want something to eat, Scorpius? The kids'll be here soon, and you'll need all the energy you can get to deal with them. I know I do." His laugh was echoed by Scorpius' father, the traitor.
"I don't know if I can eat anything," Scorpius confessed, in a small voice. Though... the other children weren't there yet, so at least there was that.
"Nonsense, of course you can," Harry said, leading Scorpius to wonder yet again how the man was always so cheerful, and why he couldn't stab him for it. "You must be hungry, and eating something will get rid of the nerves."
"I'm not nervous!" Scorpius snapped, though there was a squeaking note to his voice that embarrassed him and made him look like a liar.
Harry chuckled. "Of course you're not. You still need breakfast, though, so sit down and I'll fix it for you."
Scorpius tried to pretend it was just a normal morning, he really did. It ought to have been easy. Harry was cooking, his father was reading the newspaper as if nothing in the world were more important, and the house-elves were muttering darkly about their lack of useful things to do. Everything was as it should be. Except that, not too far in the future – minutes or hours, he wasn't sure – the enemy would arrive. They were going to hate him, he knew it.
"They're not going to hate you." Harry's words made Scorpius jump nearly all the way out of his skin. Had he accidentally said something out loud, or had Harry just read his mind? The man laughed softly at the expression on his face. "I get that the kids of Slytherins are probably nasty little buggers, but my kids aren't like that. I mean, James will probably talk you to death, but that's the only danger I can see."
"Hey, now, Scorpius is the kid of a Slytherin, you insufferable Gryffindor idiot." Scorpius could always rely on his father to stand up for him. Even against Harry. That gave him a fuzzy sort of feeling inside. He also made a mental note to look up insufferable the next time he managed to find the dictionary. It didn't exactly sound like a good thing.
"Oh, so you are listening, then." Harry didn't seem bothered by the insult, whatever it meant. "Shouldn't you be the one to comfort your kid?" He winked at Scorpius as he slid a plate full of fried breakfast across the table, showing that he didn't really mind doing it.
"You know your own children better than I do," Draco said, with a shrug. He didn't look up, even when Harry sat down next to him. "I've only met them once, and they were too terrified of me to speak, so I didn't really get much of an impression."
Scorpius stared. "They were scared of you?" That made no sense at all.
His father practically snarled. "Apparently their mother made damn sure to tell them all about Death Eaters – you remember, Scorpius, the servants of the evil Dark Lord – and about how "Daddy's new friend" used to be one." There was a horrible note to his father's voice, like the taste of lemons or the sound of a house-elf sharpening a knife. "So, you know, I'm sure they thought that I was just waiting for the chance to torture them, never mind that I'd hex myself blind before I'd deliberately hurt a child."
"But that's stupid!" Scorpius hated it when people said bad things about his father. Couldn't they see how wrong they were? "It's not right. It's not fair." He pouted a little, though he knew already that life wasn't fair. He'd certainly been told enough times.
"I suppose we weren't very fair to her, either." His father's attempt at sounding calm and reasonable was a dismal failure; even Scorpius could tell that he was speaking through clenched teeth. "Still, Harry set her straight, the moment he found out." That light in his father's eyes was not at all pleasant, though Scorpius didn't know the words he needed to describe it. Some sort of happiness, but definitely not a nice kind.
Harry didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps he didn't care. "I wasn't going to stand for her poisoning the kids against you, Draco. Whatever hurt I caused her, it wasn't your fault. And... well, you've had a hard enough time in life because of people thinking you were a real Death Eater." As far as Scorpius had been able to work out, it was mostly this that had caused that long and painful separation between his father and Harry. Though, of course, without that terrible misunderstanding he wouldn't ever have been born, so he found it difficult to know what to think.
"What's done is done," his father said, rather stiffly. "They'll probably never warm up to me, not now. Which is exactly what she wanted. At least she won't dare to poison them against Scorpius, not after what you said. That's the important thing, isn't it?" There was a great deal of hurt lurking under the indifferent words. Scorpius could tell that, and, judging by the expression on his face, Harry could as well.
"You told me it was going to be alright," he said, accusingly, though he wasn't sure if he was angry with his father, for lying to him, or with the world, for refusing to be alright.
Harry and Draco both tried to answer at the same time.
"It will be alright–"
"Sometimes lies are easier to hear–"
The two men looked at one another and laughed.
"I still think it will be alright," Harry said, though his smile seemed a little fixed. He sighed. "And though Draco's right about lies being easier to hear – and easier to say – what you have to remember is that they kill your trust for the person, too. Even if the lies are all for your own good. Or supposed to be."
"Speaking from experience?" Draco's voice sounded almost mocking, but there was understanding and love in the small gesture that accompanied the words, a hand laid across a forearm, squeezing gently.
"Of course." Harry snorted. "All ancient history now, but still. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Ginny won't say anything to the kids about Scorpius because she's not that petty. I know you don't believe that, Draco, but it's true."
"I must defer to your greater knowledge of the woman." Scorpius could tell that his father didn't believe a word of it. "As long as I don't have to see her..."
"I don't think that'd be fair on either of you," Harry said, around a mouthful of eggs. "I'll go get the kids as soon as we're done with breakfast."
Dread hit Scorpius hard, taking all of the flavour out of his bacon. There was no escape. The doom was coming. He was more sure than ever that it was going to be awful. But what could he do? Hiding wouldn't help him, and only cowards ran away. He would have to meet them. There was nothing else for it.
Harry left as soon as he'd finished eating, allowing the house-elves the pleasure of seizing all of the dirty plates and pans. Scorpius watched them and wondered, as he did from time to time, how any creature could enjoy doing dirty chores. He knew that he'd hate it, and was glad that he'd been born a Malfoy and didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do. Except meet the Potter children, of course. He sighed.
The wait seemed to last forever and yet was over much too soon. Father and son remained silent and frozen after Harry left, and both jumped in surprise at the first sound of childish voices from the direction of the family entrance. For a split second, all pretence was dropped, and they exchanged a look, both sets of grey eyes stretched wide with fear. The next instant, Scorpius tried to school his face into a smile, while his father's mask of calm indifference took hold, neatly covering up any embarrassing emotions. One day, Scorpius told himself, he would be able to do that.
"Let's go to meet them, shall we?" It was impossible to tell that his father was nervous, or even that he cared at all. Scorpius knew his own voice wouldn't come out sounding like that, so he just nodded and followed his father through the house towards the family entrance hall. With every step he tried to convince himself that everything would be fine, not quite daring to say the words out loud in case his lack of composure disappointed his father. But, despite his silence, as they were about to pass through the last door, he felt a hand ruffling his hair, a comforting touch. "It'll be fine, Scorpius."
His voice barely more than a whisper, Scorpius said, "I know."
The door swung open.
In the room beyond, he saw Harry – and, standing around the large ornate fireplace, the dreaded Potter children. He barely had time to take them in at all before one of the boys bounded over to him and excitedly gripped his arm. Scorpius' first instinct was to step back and pull away, but his father was right behind him, so he had nowhere to go. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the taller boy and tried not to shake too visibly. This had to be the older Potter son, James, the one Harry had said liked to talk. It quickly became apparent that Harry had not been joking about that.
"Hi! You must be Scorpius. Funny name, isn't it? I'm James. James Sirius. Dad thinks we ought to get along because we're about the same age, though of course I'm nine which is heaps older, really, but I'm sure you'll be alright anyway. And he said that you wanted to hear all about America, which is good 'cos I'm the best person to tell you everything. It's great there, but England's pretty cool too and I think Dad likes it more here, so I guess we're going to stay. What do you do for fun around here, anyway?"
By the time James had finished speaking, Scorpius' eyes were wide with panic, and he wasn't sure that he'd managed to follow even half of what the other boy had said. He seized on the question rather desperately, since that at least he had understood. "Oh, I have a lot of toys, and a broom" – a stupid toy broom, of course, but he wasn't about to say that – "and there are flying horses at the estate farm. And that's just here; I have a lot of friends and their houses have got other fun things to do." Not that Scorpius would honestly call any of the other children he played with his friends, but he really didn't want James Potter to think that he was lonely and pathetic. Even if he was.
"Flying horses? Wow! What kind? I saw some grey ones in America but I never got to ride on one because people don't like it if you do that, or that's what Dad said. I still don't think they would've noticed. Lily's going to be really excited too, cos you know what girls are like about horses. But of course she's too young to fly, but we're not, are we? I hope not. But I suppose we can go broom flying instead, if we have to. Do you like Quidditch? What team do you support?"
"Um..." Scorpius wondered how anyone could talk quite so much without running out of air and collapsing.
Harry came to his rescue. "James, why don't you take a breath every once in a while, son? I don't think Scorpius can keep up with all those questions."
"But Dad, they have flying horses, didn't you hear that?" James whined.
"Yes, I heard." Harry laughed. He had to be used to this sort of thing, though Scorpius was sure that his father could not approve of a child who behaved like this. "And I knew already; there were flying horses here before you were born, when Draco – I mean, Mr. Malfoy – and I first got to know each other as friends. I don't think it's as good as flying on a broom, myself, but maybe you'll feel differently." Before James could launch himself into another breathless stream of words, Harry cleared his throat warningly and said, "Anyway, you need to let your brother and sister talk to Scorpius too. There's only one of him, and there are three of you. What did I tell you about sharing?"
"But I..." James tailed off under Harry's hard stare. "Yes, Dad."
"Albus, Lily, come over and meet Scorpius," Harry called to the other two children, who were obviously not as outgoing as their very chatty brother. "Don't let James have all the fun."
The other two children stepped forward now, as silent and awkward as James was chatty and confident. In fact, while James was doing what his father had asked, he also seemed to be quivering with the effort of not saying anything. He was scowling at his brother and sister, and had yet to release his grip on Scorpius' arm. It was... it was actually nice to have someone want his attention and friendship so much, even though he was fairly sure that James would have been the same with almost any new person. He didn't really want to – he knew that James Potter was supposed to be his enemy because that was just how these things worked – but he couldn't help feeling friendly towards the other boy.
Scorpius distracted himself by staring at James' brother and sister. The boy was dark-haired and looked a lot like Harry – about as much as Scorpius looked like his own father. The girl was pale, thin and not very tall, with bright red hair and wide nervous eyes. She was only six, he remembered. Of course she would be scared. It wasn't like she'd ever have seen a house quite like Malfoy Manor before now.
Trying to be kind, even if he couldn't help but feel just a little superior to his company, Scorpius looked at the little girl and said, "Hi. What's your name?" He knew, of course, but he couldn't for the life of him think of anything else to say to her.
In a small, slightly squeaky voice, she said, "Lily." Big brown eyes glanced up at him and then quickly darted away to stare at her feet.
Her brother nudged her shoulder gently. "It's alright, Lils, I don't think he'll bite." He smiled at Scorpius, rolling his eyes slightly when his sister wasn't looking. "And I'm Albus Severus. Which is all Dad's fault." Harry burst out laughing, and Draco snorted. Albus looked a bit embarrassed, but stubbornly kept to his story. "Well, it is!"
Harry only laughed harder. Feeling a little sorry for the other boy, Scorpius held out the hand that didn't have James clamped onto it. "If we're doing middle names, I'm Scorpius Hyperion." James giggled. Albus gave him a shy smile but didn't laugh. "I suppose some people might think that was weird," Scorpius added, in his best haughty I-am-a-Malfoy voice.
"Okay, I think that will do for introductions," his father said, with a sharp look at the still chuckling Harry. "Let's get out of the entrance and into the actual house. I could do with a cup of tea." In a dark growl that he probably thought Scorpius couldn't hear, he muttered, "I could do with some bloody whiskey, never mind the damned tea."
They went to the good morning room, which would have sent Scorpius' mother into fits if she'd still been there. According to her, children were not supposed to touch the good furniture. Then again, she wasn't here now and this wasn't her house anymore, so why did it matter what she would have thought? Scorpius sighed. If only he didn't remember stupid things like that at the worst possible times!
Once they were settled in the room – James had already been scolded for trying to carve patterns into the wooden leg of a four hundred year old chair – a house-elf appeared with the tea tray. Scorpius' face lit up at the sight of it. The tray held more than just the fine china tea service; there was a variety of biscuits, tiny cakes and the expensive chocolates that his father always offered to people he wanted to impress. And if that was what he was trying to do – well, the Potter children did look impressed.
Harry was staring at the tray, too, but it was harder to tell how he felt. After a moment, he said, "When you said you wanted a cup of tea, I expected a mug of hot water with a teabag in or something." His voice was light and had a laugh in it.
Draco sniffed. "You've lived in America for too long," he said, rolling his eyes. "A Malfoy does not serve tea in bags, Harry. I think some of my ancestors would turn over in their graves if I even thought about doing anything so common."
"Well, heaven forbid you do anything the easy way," Harry said, but he poured himself a cup of tea easily enough. He took a sip, then smiled. "I have to admit that your way has its advantages."
"As in so many things," Draco said, smoothly, which for some reason made Harry blush slightly pink. At this point the house-elf returned with another tray, this one holding four glasses of fresh homemade lemonade. "Just in case you thought we'd forgotten about you, Scorpius," his father said, smirking.
"Oh, I know you couldn't do that," Scorpius said, brightly, and led the other children – his new friends? – over to the table and the trays. He watched James nervously around the china plates, but it seemed that the older boy could control himself at least some of the time. The next few minutes were filled with pointing out the best snacks and trying to smuggle more into their pockets than their fathers really wanted them to have. It was a sneaky game, so obviously Scorpius was best at it. Acquiring the enemy's supplies was child's play to a spy of his skills.
As soon as the glasses of sugary sweet lemonade had been drunk, the children were sent off to Scorpius' playroom "to get better acquainted". "Which of course means 'run along and play and leave your father in peace'," Scorpius explained, as they went along the hallway and climbed a flight of stairs. "Sometimes grown-ups just want to do grown-up things, and it's best to leave them to it."
James perked up at this. He'd been very quiet under his father's eye, but now he was free and probably about to explode, if Scorpius was any judge. "Yeah, grown-ups are weird. Like sometimes Dad just wants to be left alone and won't even let Mum in. And then later he's all wobbly and smells like–"
"James!" Albus snapped. "Scorpius doesn't need to hear about that."
In a sulky voice, James muttered, "I was just saying that grown-ups are weird. You don't have to shout."
Scorpius kept walking and didn't look around, but he felt rather surprised. Like most of the children he'd ever met, he was an only child – and, well, he'd often thought that it would be great to have a brother, someone who would always be his friend. But that didn't seem to be how it worked in real life. The way James was glaring at Albus made it look as if they didn't even like each other. But that couldn't be true, could it? He frowned, just because he was puzzled by the not quite argument – but when Lily saw his dark expression, she shrank away from him, looking more than a little scared. Scorpius really wanted to say a bad word. Already this stupid day just wasn't going well at all.
Then his spy instincts kicked in, and he realised what he'd just learned about Harry, despite Albus' best efforts to prevent it. James' words had reminded him of Adrian Nott's father, who spent most of his time hiding from his own family, and who whenever he did appear was generally pale, twitchy, short-tempered and smelling strongly of... something. Scorpius had asked his father about it, and had been told that the War had been very hard on some people, and that those who were not Malfoys sometimes turned to things like drink to help them cope. There had been disapproval in his voice, as Scorpius would have expected from someone as strong as his father – but there had been something else as well, something like sadness... or sympathy.
Scorpius had wondered at the time what could have happened to Mr. Nott to make him behave the way he did, but he hadn't quite worked up the nerve to ask. He suspected that he didn't really want to know that particular truth. Now, though... well, he still wasn't sure he cared all that much about Mr. Nott, but Harry was a different matter. Did he have the same problem? And did his father know about it? It was hard for Scorpius to imagine Draco not knowing anything, particularly something about his – about Harry, but maybe he didn't yet. Harry had only been in their lives for a few weeks, after all.
Like any good spy who had just been handed privileged information by an enemy, Scorpius did his best to hide his new knowledge. It helped that the two Potter boys were silently sulking at each other and didn't seem to expect him to say anything. He didn't want Albus to know that his attempt to keep the secret had failed; it was stupid to hand that sort of information to an enemy – and, well, he was finding it rather difficult to think of Albus as an enemy at all. Maybe it was because he looked so much like Harry.
And then, fortunately, they arrived at the door to the playroom before Scorpius could have any more disturbing thoughts.
It was the best room in the whole house. That was what Scorpius thought, and from the matching stunned looks on the faces of the Potter children, it seemed that they agreed with him. His father had always made sure that he had the best toys that money could buy, which was supposed to teach him that quality was the most important thing. Other children might have more toys and books than he did, or a bigger and more complicated room to play in, but that was because they were vulgar and didn't understand what money was for.
"Wow." James was staring, his eyes very wide. He turned to grin at Scorpius. "This place is awesome!" That was not quite how Scorpius would have put it, but then James had grown up in America, so he supposed that was okay.
"I like this room," was all Albus said, but Scorpius felt that his father would have found this reaction more acceptable than James' enthusiasm.
He smiled at the dark-haired boy. "So do I," he said, looking around at the selection of toys with pride. "It's the best room. And" – he remembered what he'd been taught about being a good host - "you can choose anything you want to play with. Any of my toys."
"Wow!" James said, again, and shot off around the room, looking at everything and shouting out comments about what he'd found. Scorpius wondered if James expected him to be surprised, given that it all belonged to him.
"He's not always like this," Lily said, suddenly. She had found his Mini Quidditch League game, and was poking at one of the small figures with a curious finger.
"You have to put the pitch together properly before any of the players will fly," Scorpius told her, thinking that if she was interested in Quidditch she might actually be alright, even if she was practically a baby. And a girl. "I'm glad James isn't like this all the time, or Father might get annoyed with him."
"And curse him?" Lily slapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words came out.
"No!" Scorpius glared, but he was more upset than angry. "My father would rather hex out his own eyes than hurt a child. I heard him say so, so there!"
Lily frowned. "But Mum told us that he was..."
"And Dad said that he'd never take us near Mr. Malfoy if he was dangerous and Mum ought to know better than that." Albus once again interrupted one of his siblings too late to stop Scorpius from figuring out what they'd been going to say. Of course, it helped that he already knew exactly what Mrs. Potter had told her children about his father. "You heard him, Lils."
"Yeah, but why'd she say that?"
"Cos she's mad that Dad likes Mr. Malfoy. Obviously." James had stopped digging through the cupboards and come over to see what the rest of them were up to. He looked very pleased with himself for knowing more than his sister did – though, since she was only six, it didn't really seem like anything to be proud of. Not that Scorpius was going to say that.
Instead, he said, "And you don't mind?"
James snorted. "Should I?" Then he shrugged. "It's been weird, with Dad being away, like, most of the time. But... I don't know. I kind of like the way things are now. It's not like Mum and Dad were happy together anyway."
Albus winced and closed his eyes. "James..."
"Just 'cos you don't like it doesn't make it not true, Albie."
"Don't call me Albie."
"Aw, too big and grown-up for your nickname all of a sudden?" James was smirking at his little brother, who had gone red in the face with frustration.
Scorpius, hoping to put a stop to this before it turned into a fight, cleared his throat and, when the others turned to look at him, asked, "Does anyone want to play with my Mini Quidditch League game?"
Before either of her brothers could say anything, Lily let out an excited squeal. "That sounds like fun! Can we?" And she turned her big brown eyes on James and Albus, who stopped glaring at each other and looked a bit uncomfortable. They agreed very quickly that, yes, of course, they could all play the game together. Scorpius saw Lily's smirk afterwards, and thought that his father was sure to approve of her.
The game was exciting – much more so when you had other people to play it with – and soon any old arguments were forgotten in favour of complaining about stolen blocks and accusations of cheating. The little figures that represented the players flew around under the direction of their "managers", who were definitely keeping track of the scores. Unfortunately, they were all counting slightly differently, and this led to disagreements.
At one point, James and Lily were screaming at each other – or that was how it seemed to Scorpius – over a difference of twenty points, and Scorpius couldn't help but sigh. He caught Albus' eye and frowned. "I thought getting everyone to play together would stop the arguing," he muttered, feeling awkward about the whole thing.
Albus just laughed. "Yeah, I can see you don't have any brothers or sisters." Then he shrugged and sprawled across the floor, stretching to reach a book that had been knocked under one of the soft chairs. In a voice slightly strained by this activity, he added, "I'm not... that wasn't meant to be rude. It's just, if you knew James and Lily, you'd know you can't ever stop them from having a fight if they want to." His fingers brushed the cover of the book, and then he seized it with a cry of triumph. "Ha! Got it!"
Scorpius, curious about exactly what Albus had got, had a look. It was one of the Undercover Auror series, which he thought was a very good thing; maybe he could get Albus interested in his favourite spy tales! Or... maybe he already liked them? "Those books are great," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. It wouldn't do to squeal the way Lily did. "Have you ever read them? That's The Case of the Disappearing Door Keys, and it's a really good one. The Undercover Auror Finley Marsh spies on a group of evil wizards who torment Muggles, and stops a plot against the Muggle Prime Minister!"
"Dad met the Muggle Prime Minister once," Albus said, cheerfully. "He said that he was a... well, he used a word that I'd get in trouble for saying. I don't think he was impressed." Then he frowned. "Those books, though... Dad says they're disrespectful. Because spying isn't fun; it's scary and dangerous and most of the people who did it in the War got really badly hurt. I was named after one of them. That's the Severus part." Despite the words, Scorpius didn't miss the sadness and longing in Albus' eyes as he looked at the cover. The dark-haired boy sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean that you shouldn't read them."
Scorpius tried very hard not to lose his temper. He didn't want to shout and bellow and turn red in the face like James. "I wasn't going to stop," he said, haughtily. "You should read them too, though. There are scary and serious bits, and I know being a spy is dangerous. But Father says that it's important for me to read about good wizards doing their duty and protecting Muggles from the bad wizards who want to harm them. Maybe Harry would agree with that?"
"I don't know." Albus was tempted, Scorpius could see that well enough. "Maybe you're right. Maybe Dad would agree."
A voice said: "Maybe Dad would agree to what?"
Scorpius nearly jumped out of his skin, and he realised that he hadn't even noticed that James and Lily had stopped arguing, or that the door to the room had opened. He was supposed to be paying attention. A spy was always alert. Constant vigilance, that was how the saying went. And he'd completely forgotten! At least Albus seemed even more surprised than he was, quickly hiding the book behind his back and looking very guilty about it. That was no way to go about things. The sooner he taught Albus how to be a spy, the better. He caught his father's eye and smirked. His father smirked right back.
Albus recovered from the shock of Harry's sudden appearance pretty quickly. "Um... Scorpius has those spy books, Dad." He held it out. "See? I told him what you said about them, but he thinks that they're actually good and I should read them, 'cos..." He trailed off and looked sideways at Scorpius, as if asking for his support. It was... nice to be trusted like that, and Scorpius felt very strongly that he couldn't let Albus down.
He looked straight at Harry, who seemed more amused than anything else, and used his best Malfoy voice, full of poise and confidence. "Well, Father says that the books teach young wizards" – here Lily coughed pointedly – "and witches about proper values." Grown-ups liked values, didn't they? "Like how we have to protect Muggles and not hurt them. And how sometimes you have to do good things in secret and never tell anyone, just because it's right." This was a message Scorpius had found by himself, one that he doubted his father had noticed or would approve of. But it was there, and Harry would like it.
"Hm. That does sound very worthy," Harry said, with a pointed look at Draco.
"What, did you think I made my son read stories about how Muggles steal magic and that's how we get Mu– Muggle-born wizards?" His father's voice was sharp, and he tossed his head back dismissively, but Scorpius could tell that he wasn't really all that angry. He still had one hand resting gently on Harry's back, for one thing. Then, in a more normal voice, he added, "Those books really exist, you know."
"I didn't doubt it," Harry said, dryly. "And don't make stupid accusations. You know I'd never think anything like that about you." Now he looked at Scorpius and gave him a little nod. "You make a good case, mini Malfoy." Before Scorpius could get annoyed by the stupid name – in front of the others, too! – Harry went on, "I suppose that I could read one with Albus and see what they're like."
"Oh, you should!" Scorpius took the book out of Albus' hands and gave it to Harry. "You can borrow this one, if you want."
Harry took it with a soft chuckle. "That's very generous of you, Scorpius."
"Yeah, that's great!" Albus clapped his hands in his excitement. "Then we can talk about it next time I'm here!"
Hearing those words – next time I'm here – made Scorpius feel warm inside. Though he knew, logically, that Albus would have to come back to the Manor whether he wanted to or not, it was nice to know that he did want to. Scorpius smiled. "And then you can borrow another one. You can read any book you want from my library." Then he thought about it and quickly added, "I mean, except the new one because I haven't read that yet."
"I'm sure Albus appreciates the offer," Harry said, firmly. "But I think one book will be enough for now."
"But Dad..."
"You heard me, young man." Harry was still smiling, so it was hard to take him seriously as a strict parent. "Anyway, enough about books. Mr. Malfoy–"
"Draco," Scorpius' father put in, rolling his eyes.
"Alright, Draco had the idea that you might want to go outside for a bit. Maybe you could play in the gardens or torment the peacocks or something. What do you think?"
This idea caused James to explode again. "That'd be wicked, Dad! Do you think we could see the flying horses? Or what about brooms? Scorpius said he had a broom, could we play on that? Or... is there a pool? Or..."
"Breathe, James," Harry said, patiently. "Good. I suppose we could go see the flying horses if you want – right, Draco?"
"Yes, of course. Although" - here Scorpius noticed that his father's voice became very serious - "horses are dangerous and it's important that you treat them with respect."
Harry grinned. "Like you did in third year, with the–"
"No." Draco almost snarled the word. Lily made a small scared noise. "Anyway, horses are much less intractable than hippogriffs. They'll be fine as long as they're careful."
Scorpius added intractable to his list of words to look up next time he found the dictionary.
"Come on, then, kids!" Harry said, brightly. "Let's get outside before Draco changes his mind."
They all went through the halls together, but when they got to the top of the main staircase, Harry stopped and put a hand on Draco's arm. He nodded in the direction of Albus and Scorpius, walking side by side down the stairs, the light head and the dark one close together as they talked. "Those two," Harry said, as if that explained everything. When Draco didn't reply, he added, "They're going to be a handful, you know."
Draco tipped his head to one side and smiled. "Yeah, I know."
There was a moment of silence, and then Harry laughed quietly. "I kind of can't wait, though."
Draco went down a couple of stairs and held a hand out towards Harry, his eyes full of emotion that he would never be able to voice. When Harry took the hand and began to walk down the stairs beside him, he said, quietly, "Neither can I."