Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy have been best friends since their first year of Hogwarts. This is the story of… why.
Albus Severus Potter, known by his friends as Al, fiddled nervously with the wand in his pocket, staring at the Gryffindor table, second from the right in the Great Hall. He could see his brother, James, waving furiously at him, the year older Louis sitting next to him, chatting amiably with Dominique, who was one year older than him. Fred and Roxanne, the infamous Weasley twins, in their sixth years, were sitting a little way down, their heads close together, whispering and glancing in the direction of the first years, frowns on their faces. Victoire, a seventh year and the Head Girl, was frowning at her cousins, obviously wondering what they were up to.
Rose, standing next to him, yanked on his sleeve, pulling him back to them, the first years. "Neville just called your name, Al," she hissed in his ear, looking up towards the stool where Neville- er, Professor Longbottom- stood, raising an eyebrow at Albus, waiting for him to come up and get Sorted already.
Albus blushed slightly, making his way to the front carefully, nervously sitting down, pulling the hat onto his head.
You're a smart boy, Mr. Potter, clever and cunning and incredibly brave, just like your father and your brother, it murmured in his ear. Albus's heart leapt.
So I'll be a Gryffindor? He asked it, mentally, praying his words would be true.
You'll be a "Gryffindor!" it shouted to the school. Al leapt to his feet, grinning widely, placing the hat back on the school and running down, sitting next to his brother, a huge grin of relief on his face.
That night, after the feast, after everyone else was asleep, Albus found himself lying awake, hyped up on excitement at being a Gryffindor. Even after what his father had said on the platform, Al had still been deathly afraid that he would end up in Slytherin.
Finally, unable to sleep, he swung his legs off the bed, pulling parchment, a quill, and some ink out of trunk. He wrote a letter to his mother somewhere along these lines:
Dear Mum,
I'M IN GRYFFINDOR
Albus
He rolled it up, slipping out of the dorm and out the portrait hole. As he slipped carefully through the shadows, confidently making his way to the Owlery despite the fact that he'd been at the school for maybe a few hours (his father had shown him the map so many times that he knew exactly where everything was), he heard a noise down a side corridor. Frowning, he snuck closer, pressing his ear to the door.
He heard someone cry out, in pain, as there was the sound of a fist slamming into a nose. Al pulled open the door, staring inside to see a first year, like him, with pale blonde hair and a bloody nose, held by two burly Ravenclaw first years, a second year drawing back his fist for another punch.
"Oi!" Al said, staring at the scene with wide eyes. "What's going on here?"
The two first years stared at him with wide eyes, frozen like deer in the headlights, while the second year dropped his fist.
"Run," Al heard him mutter to the other two, and they ran off immediately, needing no prodding. Al rushed forward, catching the blonde as he tipped forward.
"Are you okay?" Al asked, holding him up by the shoulders.
"What do you think?" the boy asked thickly, rolling his eyes at Albus.
"That your nose must hurt. Tilt your head back and apply pressure," Al instructed.
"Thanks," he said, as the bleeding slowly stopped. He looked at Albus properly for the first time, doing a double take. "You're a Potter," he said blankly.
"Er… Yes, I am," Al said, raising an eyebrow. "Thank you for informing me."
"I'm just... surprised, is all. That a Potter would help me."
Albus stared at him, confused. "Why the hell wouldn't I?"
"I'm a Malfoy."
"Why the hell should that matter?" Al asked, still confused.
"Because you're a Potter."
"Why the hell does that make a difference?"
"Because I'm a Malfoy."
"But why-" Albus shook his head. "We seem to just be going in circles. Let's restart- hello, I'm Albus Potter and I don't care what your surname is." Al held his hand out for the Malfoy to shake.
The other boy took it uncertainly. "I'm Scorpius Malfoy."
"What were they on about?" Al asked, looking down the hallway after the three boys.
Scorpius made a face at him. "You seem to be the only one who doesn't care that I'm a Malfoy."
"But-"
"Obviously, you are a naïve person who is never going to understand so I'm not going to explain," Scorpius interrupted. "Now, excuse me, Potter, I have to go." He pushed past the slightly stunned Gryffindor, walking away quickly.
The letter in his pocket unsent and forgotten, Albus frowned deeply, walking slowly back to Gryffindor Tower.
LALALALALALALALALALA
Three days later, Scorpius woke up in his dorm, glancing at the other boys, silently getting ready, hoping none of the other Ravenclaws would wake up and start his day of torment early.
He was in the Great Hall eating breakfast, frowning down at his cereal, trying to go unnoticed, when the three boys- his major tormentors (Mark Boot, Sam Turner, and Alexander Lacurr)- walked in, laughing. One was holding a box, Scorpius noticed, frowning slightly.
They sat down, placing the box in the middle of the table slightly reverently. Boot, the leader though one of the younger two, opened it slowly. An explosion of pink spewed out, coating the three boys who sat, stunned, staring at each other.
Scorpius resisted the urge to laugh at their faces, glancing up. He caught the eye of a certain first year Gryffindor, who winked, smirking.