A/N: Long time no see. Since my last time, I wrote and published a non-fanfiction story (even made some $ on it, hey-yo!). This, though, remains all my fun. The title, it's a working title... but I kind of like it so it might stay.
Disc.: Borrowing the world, creating the plot.
Chapter One
The clicking on the steps echoed, much like the grandfather clock down in the great room but closer. I frowned, glancing momentarily at the door I'd left ajar when I had entered moments before. I felt my heart pick up the same tempo, click-shuffle-shuffle, click-shuffle-shuffle. The sound was gaining ground, drowning out the even paced tick of the clock that echoed through the castle. I tried to calm my breathing as I shoved the book deep in between the clothes, knowing no matter what I did now there would be no mercy and no escape. My stomach churned, aching.
"Boy! What are you doing?" his voice cut through my reverie.
"I was just checking to make sure-"
"Don't be stupid. Every Malfoy goes to Hogwarts with what they need," my grandfather's voice was cold. There was no denying that he hated everything I was.
"I know but-"
"Did you interrupt me?" he demanded. I looked at him with my eyes wide. I hadn't intended to, nor did I think I had but sometimes there was no right answer. Sometimes even silence was the wrong answer. I braced myself two seconds too late as his hand came crashing against my face. He always used his left hand, the ornate ring certain to make an impression. Tear sprung to my eyes, but I knew better than to cry out.
"My apologies, grandfather," I gasped. His eyes narrowed.
"Do you have your wand on you, boy?" he gripped the head of his cane tightly, his bony fingers flexing over the ornate head of a serpent. Reflexively, I glanced to my nightstand. I wasn't prepared for the second blow, sending me crashing to the floor. I bit back the cry that was threatening to spill up.
"Scorpius?" I heard my mother's sweet voice call out sing-song like. She was still half a hallway away but I knew that I didn't want her to see me cowering like a frightened child.
"Get up! Get up! And don't you speak of this!" he threatened harshly as he swooped down on me, his hand digging deeply in my upper arm. I knew not to cross him and I jumped up, running for the washroom. I closed and locked the door, leaning against it. Shame flooded me as the tears spilled down my cheeks.
"Oh, hello Lucius," I heard my mother greet my grandfather. Her voice was cool and I knew how hard she worked to get along with him for my father's sake.
"Infamy," his voice wasn't warm by any means, but it didn't hold the same hate he felt for me. I was a disappointment. He believed my father and mother coddled me, softening me. "Scorpius is in the washroom. Tripped over the rug. I must talk to the house elves about leaving them gapped up."
"He fell?" My mother didn't sound as if she believed him. I washed my face quickly, ignoring the mark on my cheek. It would bruise if left unchecked. I opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a hidden jar of Bruise-B-Gon, a paste I had ordered secretly from Weasley Wizard Weezes. I dabbed it on quickly, a preventive measure to keep the bruising to a minimum if at all. It was how I hid all the bruises my mother and father might see.
"I'm fine, Mother," I promised brightly as I exited the washroom. I smiled at her, a cheeky grin, and shook my head. "It was a close call, but I barely bumped myself."
"That's good," my mother nodded, looking at me with scrutiny. "Are you sure you're okay, son?"
"Fine, really. Shouldn't have been running indoors. How many times have you told me and still, I ran in here, and whoops," I forced a laugh that almost sounded real. She looked at me critically but nodded.
"Your father and I will be escorting you to the train," Mother smiled at me, ignoring Lucius. I knew it angered him to be so dismissed, especially by my mother. Even her Vela blood couldn't make a twisted and darkened soul sing.
"Yes, mother. Shall I come now?" I almost begged. Lucius' eyes narrowed as my mother's delicate brow arched up slightly.
"Are you finished packing?" she inquired. I nodded once.
"Yes, ma'am," I crossed to the nightstand and tucked the wand into the inner pocket of my jacket. She smiled at me.
"Come along, then, Scorpius. I'm sure Gran would like to see you before you depart," my mother tucked her hand in my arm, guided me out of the room. I could hear my grandfather following, the same steady shuffle-shuffle-click. I willed my body to relax. While I was with my parents, no one would hurt me. My mother looked down at me, a smile playing on her lips.
Entering Father's study, I saw my father leaning against the mantel talking with someone in the green flames. He glanced at me, smiling and wrapped it up. Gran was sitting by the window, sipping her tea. I walked across the room and planted a kiss on her cheek before taking a seat. My grandfather sat down stiffly, almost indifferent as he drank his tea with us.
"The car is here," the butler announced quietly from the doorway and three of us rose at once. My heart was beating in my chest, this time out of excitement over fear. One of the house elves held a sack lunch for me, my grandfather's lip curling unpleasantly at the gesture.
My grandfather grabbed my shoulder, his fingers digging deeply enough that I knew that I'd have a dark purple bruise for some time afterwards, to join the others that littered my body just beneath my clothes. My mother and father had already climbed into the car. He pulled me into his arms, under the guise of a loving embrace. He lowered his mouth to my ear.
"If you dare open your mouth," he growled his threat. I nodded once, unable to speak as he dug his fingers into my side where I was still sporting a bruised rib from our last sparring exercise. He'd claimed once I was trained up properly, he wouldn't go so easy on me. I trembled in fear.
"Scorpius, come along! You don't want to be late," my father called as he flipped through his briefcase for some paperwork he undoubtedly would work on during the short commute between our manor and the King's Cross station.
Mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder, holding me close as we silently made our way from the car to the barrier, stepping through as if it didn't exist. I paused only a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the scene that lay before me. The train was massive, bigger than I could have ever imagined. There were so many students, some dressed like me in their school uniform ready to pull their robes on and hats, other dressed as muggles.
"You're going to have so much fun at the school," my mother promised as she brushed my hair down. It wanted to curl up slightly having taken after her wavy mane of blond. It was a battle she easily won with length, potions, sprays, and a half ton of little metal pins.
"What if no one likes me?" I asked hesitantly. I glanced at my father for reassurance but saw that he was nodding at someone down the platform. I stood on my tip-toes to see. Down two train cars from us was a tall man with brown hair, standing with a group of adults.
"I'm sure that if you just pull out your Malfoy charm like your father-"
"Who's that?" I asked my father, grabbing his sleeve. He looked at me in surprise.
"A colleague," my father's words were dismissive but I knew that there was something more to it. He didn't look like he planned on elaborating, and I wasn't one to pry. My mother continued to fuss over me.
"At least you'll have Damon, though I daresay that boy is the worst when it comes to influences, and I'm certain that Vincent Goyle will take you under his wing," mother crooned softly. "You'll never be without friends, so don't worry about it, Scorpius. Just be you."
"Yes, ma'am," I almost whispered at Mr. and Mrs. Goyle approached with their son, Vincent, who was a whole grade ahead of me. Nice enough guy, if you don't mind never holding an intelligent conversation. The West family approached, Damon nodding uncomfortably at me. The two of us lived very close to each other and played often, usually getting into more than our share of our trouble. He was the only one who knew about my issues with my grandfather, and I'd attempted to cast and unbreakable vow. Being that we were six at the time and hadn't even come into our magic yet, all it earned me was a broken arm, courtesy of my grandfather who told everyone I fell off the wall by the privet.
I guess it wasn't that far-fetched. I was constantly climbing up on it to escape Malfoy Manor. My grandfather wouldn't let them heal it, just set it like a muggle break would be and heal the old fashion way. It still ached sometimes when I used it to block my grandfather's cane.
"Have a good summer holiday?" Damon asked as he glanced around. I shrugged slightly, one of those gestures that could have meant nothing or everything. He rolled his eyes.
"Mine was fair enough," Vincent huffed. "Though I spent most of it retaking my first year exams."
"Guess that should be a lesson to the both of us, huh?" I smirked. Vincent was a good guy, a good friend, but he wasn't winning any education awards. I tried to run my hand through my hair but found that the tonic had done its job a little too well and my fingers couldn't breech it.
"You're going to die," a tiny voice whispered. I jumped and looked around before my eyes fell on this waif of a girl. She was wearing a romper, staring up at me through blunt cut bangs while her face was framed with two identical auburn braids. I glanced around to see who she was talking to before my eyes returned to the steely gaze of almost comically large emerald gemstones dropped in the milk-white face. I leaned closer, a faint smatter of freckles spanned the bridge of her nose and tops of both cheeks.
"Did... did you say I was going to die?" I didn't know what else to ask. This child, this small creature was standing just out of arms' reach looking at me intently. I glanced to Damon, who only shrugged, and Vincent who was busy picking a scab on his arm.
"You. You are going to DIE," she hissed at me, flinging her arm up as if to hit me. I flinched despite myself though the blow never came. I peeked out from squinted eyes, cheeks a-flame with embarrassment to see her only pointing at me menacingly.
"Lily Luna Potter, for the love of MERLIN!" a woman snapped, grabbing the jumper clad girl by the arm. My eyes went to her and immediately knew that the woman must be her mother. She glared at the little girl, flipping her much redder version of auburn hair behind her shoulder and getting down to the child's level, her own eyes blue rather than green.
"He is going to-"
"That's enough, Lily. It's one thing to," Mrs. Potter looked at me. "I am so sorry about Lily. Sometimes she forgets her manners and she's still learning to mind her imagination. Are you okay, son?"
"Ginny, how are you," my father interrupted. She looked up from where she was still crouching to be eye to eye with the small girl and I swore I saw her cheeks flush slightly.
"Draco, hello," she righted herself immediately.
"Ginny," my mother's voice was cool again, not quite as icy as when she talked to my grandfather but pretty close and I couldn't help but look at her quizzically.
"Infamy, always a pleasure," Mrs. Potter nodded once, her hand still locked tight on the child's arm.
"Ouch, mummy, that hurts!" the child whimpered slightly, her voice high and quite unlike the previous threat of death.
"Oh, Lily, sorry dear," Mrs. Potter dropped her child's arm. "I'm sorry for Lily. You know, she's just-"
"It's fine, really," Draco dismissed with a smile. He clapped me hard on the shoulder and I winced, him hitting a particularly sore spot from last week's failed lesson. "Isn't that so, Scorpius?"
"Yes," I nodded once. My father cleared his throat. "I mean, yes ma'am."
"Well, I should get her back," Mrs. Potter muttered after a second before taking Lily by the hand and dragging the reluctant girl back to the man with brown hair and gold wire-rimmed glasses.
"That would be the Mrs. Harry Potter," my father muttered as the train whistle signaled that the train would be leaving soon. I glanced at them again, curious, only to wish I hadn't. That girl, that same child was staring me down with such intensity that I wanted to shudder.
"Be good, Scorpius," my mother urged as she kissed the top of my head, embracing me tightly. My father half-hugged me but his attention was broken, focusing on the other family down the track saying their farewells.
"I will," I promised. I would, too. There was no way I would risk getting in trouble and being forced to return any earlier than I must. I wasn't eager to study magic under my grandfather, one of the last few Death Eaters.
I climbed aboard the train, running to the first free compartment to wave to my parents. Neither were looking for me. Instead they were discussing something intently and I wondered silently if they were arguing. I called for them, waving wildly but the only person who seemed to notice and make eye contact was that strange little girl with the too big eyes. She locked eyes with me, her face so serious that I physically shuddered without a second thought.