About: Scorpius is a piano virtuoso. Implied Scorrose and some dadness. Inspired by "Out Of My League" by Stephen Speaks.
Scorpius was about seven the first time he heard the piano being played in his house. Well, it was the first time he remembered it happening. His mother was having one of her times when she was ill in bed for days, and his father hardly left her side. At those times, his grandparents often came to stay to play with him, both sets. This weekend it was the Greengrasses, his mother's parents. His grandmother was in the kitchen with the House Elves (where Scorpius had just left when he heard the piano, with a cookie, of course) and when he poked his head in the room he saw that it was his grandfather at the piano. His back was to the door.
Since he was a stickler for the rules, Scorpius finished his cookie before he walked into the room. This room in Malfoy Manor was very important to his parents; it had windows all around, near the high ceiling, that let in so much light and air it didn't need any artificial help. It also had lots of family portraits on the walls, but they were often empty because Scorpius's father said they didn't like to spend so much time in the bright room.
"Grandfather?" Scorpius piped up over the music.
The playing stopped, and Hyperion Greengrass turned to look over his shoulder. "Hey, pipsqueak," he said with a small smile. Scorpius wandered over to stand by the piano. "You need something?"
Scorpius shook his head. "No. Nobody's played this piano before," he pointed out, and couldn't help himself, so he quickly pressed down and key and snatched his hand away before he could get scolded.
But his grandfather just laughed. "Your mother used to play lullabies for you when you were a baby, simple ones," he said as he reached down and lifted Scorpius off his feet and onto his lap, "I tried to teach her and your Auntie Daphne when they were little girls, but neither of them had much of an interest. Your mum picked up the basics though."
Scorpius didn't remember that, but that was because he didn't remember being a baby. He was grown up. "Were you playing a song?" he asked, looking up at his grandfather.
Hyperion nodded. "I was."
"What's it called?"
"I don't know, I haven't named it. I wrote it myself," he told the little boy. Scorpius's blue-grey eyes widened considerably as if he couldn't believe someone could actually write music. "What do you think I should call it?"
Scorpius frowned. He didn't know what to call it either. "Does it have words?"
"Not yet," Hyperion replied.
"Maybe you should ask mum. She names all the stars," Scorpius told him importantly.
His grandfather chuckled and put his hands back on the keys to start playing again. Scorpius reached over too and put his hands over Hyperion's, just like he did with his feet when Draco was teaching him how to dance. "Can I learn, grandfather?" Scorpius asked, lifting his head again. He would like to know how to make music.
Hyperion grinned and nodded. "Of course you can," he said, "I'll teach you."
At thirteen, Scorpius could play Warbeck and Chopin. The piano in Malfoy Manor never went unused with Scorpius living there. His grandfather's lessons continued, of course, but he didn't need them nearly as often now. He almost always taught himself songs. Only a few months before then, he listened to his grandfather play that song he wrote, and he wrote down all the notes, or all of the ones he could. It sounded... unfinished. Hyperion said it was, but he had no more to add to it.
So it was in Scorpius's hands now.
One afternoon, Scorpius was working on it, and he didn't notice that someone was watching him from the door. She didn't knock before she said, "That sounds familiar."
Scorpius paused and turned around. He smiled. "Hi, mum."
Astoria wandered closer, holding a knitted cloak over her shoulders. Her cheeks had more color today. "What are you playing?" she asked him.
Scorpius shook his head. "I don't know, it doesn't have a name yet. Grandfather wrote most of it, I'm just finishing it, I'm considering naming it after grandmother. Would she like that?" he asked, looking up at her.
She nodded and smiled gently. "She would. They both would, but maybe you should name it since you're writing some of it too."
"Maybe. But I have no ideas." He scooted over on the bench to make room for her, but she shook her head. When she was feeling well, Astoria liked to be on her feet and walking about.
"Does it have words?" Astoria asked him then.
"No," he said, then added thoughtfully, "Maybe I'll come up with some. Write an entire song."
Astoria smiled again and leaned over to kiss his head. "I know you can do it, my little virtuoso. You just need some inspiration," she told him.
Scorpius mirrored her expression and nodded. He turned away and grabbed his glasses from the top of the piano, so he could put them on and actually see the sheet music in front of him (considering he had actually memorized the notes and didn't need to read them anymore). Astoria didn't leave as Scorpius studied the music, instead just stood there and watched him. That was more rewarding than walking through any sort of garden in her mind.
A bit over a year later, Scorpius was in deep. Everything she did mesmerized him. Even when they were just sitting in the library doing work, she was captivating. With every eye roll and flick of her ginger curls, Scorpius fell more and more for Rose Weasley. Even as he teased her about her convoluted way of explaining Patronus Theory.
The Slytherins and Gryffindors had Defense Against the Dark Arts together as fourth years, which was a plus for Scorpius. They were learning shield charms (namely Protego) and general defensive stuff, and when they walked in one day a giant dueling platform was set up in the center of the room with Professor Potter standing on it looking all smug. This, naturally, excited everyone except Albus. Poor kid got a lot of second-hand embarrassment.
Anyway, Scorpius and Rose ended up having to go at it. She looked very unassuming standing before him, waiting for the go ahead. They just stared at each other, and then when they turned around to go to the edge before the could cast, they were giggling. There was never a serious moment between those two. When the 'duel' signal was given, Rose was on top of it, and of course Scorpius was too distracted by her absolutely perfect form. He couldn't even think of casting a shield charm before she sent him sprawling on his back. He stared at the ceiling for a few beats, and then at her, proud face and all, and that's when he realized.
Later, after his last lesson, he walked into his dormitory and tossed his bag on his bed. Albus, who was in the closest adjacent bed, looked slightly concerned. "Yeah?"
"I'm in love with Rose," Scorpius stated.
Albus stared at him a few moments. Then he calmly put his book down. "That's lovely. But I think she might be out of your league," he said.
Something clicked in his brain then. "Yes," he muttered. Then Scorpius dove for his trunk, rummaged about a bit, then produced sheet music that was yellowed with age and use. Then he bolted from the room, leaving Albus to sit there alone looking even more confused.
The piano in Malfoy Manor was slightly out of tune, which Scorpius could fix with a little incantation, and he would when he felt like getting up. Instead, he kept playing and hummed the words along with it. He tried to be quiet; he had a sleeping wife and children not too far away. But this was much more fun than the paperwork that taunted him in the other room.
Still, he didn't hear the little footsteps as they ran up behind him. And then the body connected to them jumped right onto Scorpius's bench. "Whatcha playin'?" Atlas asked him, on his knees so he could see the keys too.
"A song I wrote with my grandad," Scorpius replied, lifting is right arm so his oldest could snuggle right up to his side, "I wrote the words, he wrote the piano notes."
"What's it called?"
"Out of My League. I wrote it for your mum," he said and started it up again, slower so Atlas could listen closer.
Atlas brightened at the mention of his mother, and without hesitation reached out to press some of the keys himself. "Does she like it?"
"I think so," Scorpius said and chuckled a bit as Atlas's note clashed with his own and the little boy immediately lifted his hand off, "How else was I going to convince her to love me?"
"Ew," Atlas said, wrinkling his nose, so much like Rose. Scorpius shook his head and started to play again, this time up to tempo, and he sang the words gently, mostly into Atlas's hair. His little nose was still scrunched up.
"It doesn't sound right."
Scorpius stopped, surprised. "You're right... it's a bit out of tune," he said. He didn't expect his seven-year-old to have perfect pitch. Life was about the little things.
"Can I play too?" Atlas asked, looking up with a hopeful expression.
Scorpius smiled down at him and nodded. "Of course you can," he said, "I'll teach you."