Author's Note:

So. I don't think there are enough Scopius/Albus stories out there, do you? :)
Inspired by A Magical Bond by C. Queen.

Warnings: Slash, mpreg, odd pairings, OCs. Don't like, don't read. No flames please!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

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Beginning

When Scorpius Malfoy turned eleven years old, his mother gave him hugs and kisses, clothes in Slytherin colors, a larger room in the manor, and a ton of presents that he still had yet to sort out.

His father gave him school books, a new potions kit, and words.

"Every Slytherin is devious and selfish, so you can only depend on yourself."

"You can make friends, sure, but make sure that they know who is better. Malfoys have always been on top, and I expect nothing less from you."

"I will not punish you if you get up to mischief. I will, however, punish you if you get caught."

"People will try to treat you badly because of things from the past. You must immediately show them that they can not."

"Watch the Quidditch team. Learn the plays and techniques and prepare yourself so you can go on next year."

"Your marks are important right from the start, son, so do not slack."

And outside the train, with gray steam billowing and parents rushing around and children squealing excitedly, Scorpius slowly took these words to heart. He saw the looks, the mutterings, watched his mother stare back at some until they looked away.

They loaded his bags onto the train. Scorpius had a new owl, a small yet still regal-looking gray that he'd named Hypherion. The bird nipped at his fingers and he smiled, despite the butterflies in his stomach and the feeling that he was going to be sick.

His father did not hug him goodbye; it was not becoming of a Malfoy to show affection in public. He had, however, sat in the rocking chair by Scorpius's bed and read him his potions book until he fell asleep the previous night. So it was all right.

Scorpius's mother, Astoria, was only a Malfoy through marriage, and therefore had no qualms about gathering the boy into a hug. She smelled like rose and soft lemon, and her silver designer robes were soft against his skin. Scorpius breathed in against her and refused to cry.

"We'll write everyday," she promised when she pulled back. Her blue-gray eyes were soft, brunette curls falling in elegant tumbles down her back. "Won't we, Draco, darling?"

Scorpius's father looked away from something. Scorpius tried to see, but the mass of bodies were too much. All he could catch a glimpse of was messy black hair. "What? Oh. Astoria, don't you think that's a bit too much-?"

"We'll send sweets, too." Astoria said firmly, ignoring her husband.

Scorpius's father didn't argue. He never could when it came to her.

The train horn sounded twice in warning.

"Oh, dear," Astoria sighed. Pulled Scorpius in for another smothering hug.

"I've got to go now, mum." The words were muffled against the woman's cloak.

She huffed. He felt it against his cheek. "I know. I just-" Sighed again. Scorpius prayed that she wouldn't start peppering his face with kisses, like she did every time she felt he was doing something grown up. He could scarcely get onto his broomstick at home without lip stick marks.

Merlin, that would be embarrassing.

"Goodbye mother, father." He pulled back with a bit of effort, as his mother's grip was extremely strong.

His father laid a hand on his shoulder and looked at him seriously for a moment. "Remember what I've told you, Scorpius." And then he flashed a rare smile. "Make us proud."

And the next thing he knew, he was on the train, wandering around.

He hadn't had trouble finding a compartment to sit in-the one with Darius Zabini, Faris Nott, Ella Flint, and Veronica Goyle: children that he'd met at social gatherings. That knew where they stood with him. He'd gotten the window seat without much fuss and talked with them for a bit, but all they could really dicuss was how Slytherin was best and how their house was the most powerful, and so on and so forth.

Scorpius knew his father would approve of his sitting with them. It was, after all, one of the bits of advice that he'd given his son.

But Ella liked to grip onto his arm, fingernails digging into his skin, and whisper things about how they were going to marry when he grew up, how many children they would have, how that big manor would be all theirs. It made his skin crawl.

And Darius was just plain nasty. He was handsome, like his father, and good to stand with. But he was the type of boy who Incendo'd spiders and hexed girls for no other reason than a good laugh.

Faris was all right, he supposed. He wore glasses and liked to read rather than gossip nastily like the rest. But he was nervous, always stuttering and fumbling. Scorpius hoped, for the boy's sake, that he was sorted into Ravenclaw. He'd be eaten alive in Slytherin. His parents didn't seem the sort that would mind too much.

Veronica was surprisingly pretty, for her parentage. She had fine bones and a heart shaped face and blonde silky hair, and for a few moments, we he'd first met her, Scorpius thought, "If I have to marry, I'd rather her than Ella."

And then she'd opened her mouth.

She wanted pearls. She wanted jewels. She wanted the high life with no 'snot nosed, messy brats' as she called children. Oh? That was your book that I just threw into the fire for no apparent reason, Faris? Do I look like I honestly care? Did you know that you're absolutely hideous when you cry? Would you like a Crucio to give you a real reason to cry? My daddy taught me how, you know.

Darius got all moony around her. Normally that'd mean he picked on her even worse than he did other girls, but Veronica scared him too much.

As they began dissecting their Headmaster, an older, jolly woman who Scorpius personally liked, he stood.

"I'm going to the loo," he said in the haughtiest voice he could muster. He gave them all a superior look-one that he knew was extremely intimidating, as he'd practiced it in the mirror-and left the compartment.

As soon as the door clicked shut, a pressure came off of his chest. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply for a moment, then opened them.

Albus Potter was standing at the end of the empty hallway, watching Scorpius.

The blond boy recognized him, of course. The Potter family was in the papers at least once a week. Once, James Potter lost a tooth while getting robes.

That was in the paper, too.

It disgusted Scorpius's father.

"Bunch of attention seeking mongrels," he'd sneered, crumpling the moving picture of the boy's amazement. "When you go to school, Scorpius, I expect you to stay away from the Potters and the Weasleys. Nothing but bad blood, heroes and gingers with way too many brats..."

Scorpius was eight at the time, and confused. Mr. Potter was supposed to have defeated the Dark Lord. So how was he and his family bad...?

So he asked his mum. And she rolled her eyes and told him, "Ignore your father, Scorpy. He's just a bit sore from his school years, that's all. A drama queen, really."

As if that cleared up everything.

His father said to stay away, but his mother said to ignore him. Which one to obey? Scorpius didn't know, especially as the All Potters Are Evil, Nasty Things That Should Not Be Discussed rant picked up speed when Scorpius turned eleven. He'd once sat for one hour and twenty two minutes while his father went into great detail about the flaws of Harry Potter.

His hair, abysmal clothing, and irritating way of always doing every bloody thing right were targeted, along with his children's sappy names and wife's hair color.

He really hated the Potters. But Scorpius couldn't. Not when he'd never met one.

So they stood, Albus and Scorpius, watching each other. Scorpius took in the dark, inky hair-which was as unfortunate as his father had ranted about-, the bright green eyes, the sloppy stance. The mysterious Potter was a bit taller than Scorpius, even with his shoulders hunched a bit. He still hadn't changed into his robes, so he was wearing a pair of Muggle jeans and a red t-shirt. Clearly hoping for Griffyndor.

All together, the boy wasn't very impressive. Well, except for those eyes. They were kind of distracting.

"Hi," Potter finally said. His voice was like his stance-unsure.

"Hello," Scorpius said slowly. "Can I help you?"

"Well, uh." He shifted on his feet. Tucked his hands into his pockets. His head, which was drooping so low that it threatened to brush his shoes, suddenly stood alert. "Yeah! Actually, you can!"

Scorpius blinked. He hadn't actually been offering. "Oh."

"See, your dad was, like, The Slytherin, right?" He asked eagerly. "And my dad says that all Malfoys are Slytherins too, which means you'll be sorted there."

Scorpius blinked again. "I guess..."

"Exactly. So you can tell me, am I-" Potter lowered his voice, looked from side to side, then walked quickly down the carriage hallway to grab Scorpius's wrist. The blond haired boy was so surprised that he could barely react as he was dragged into an empty compartment.

Now that they were closer, Scorpius noticed smaller things. Like how Al's eyelashes were so long and thick that Ella'd be sick with envy. And just how unruly that famous Potter hair was. Scorpius wanted to take a large comb and have at it.

He looked as much like his father as Scorpius did his.

Once the compartment was shut and locked and the privacy curtains were drawn, Albus turned to Scorpius, a bit out of breath.

His cheeks suddenly flushed. "Sorry. Had to make sure that no one could hear. Your name's Scorpius, right?"

Scorpius nodded. He wasn't sure that he could speak, he was so bewildered. How did he get himself into this situation again?

Oh, yes. The 'Can I help you.'

"Right. That's what my Uncle Ron said, but my Aunt Hermione says he isn't the smartest bloke in the world, so yeah." Albus sat down in a huff. Scorpius carefully did the same. "I'm Albus, by the way."

"Why are we in here?" Scorpius asked, finally regaining his voice.

"Oh. I wanted to see, you know, because my brother, James, he says that I'm going to be sorted into Slytherin, and there are no Slytherins in our family, and I'm already weird enough because I don't like treacle tart and everyone in my family loves treacle tart and-" He took a deep breath- "Just. AmISlytherinmaterial?" The final words came out in a rush.

"Are you serious?" Scorpius laughed.

Albus looked like he'd been slapped. "Of course I'm serious! Do you think if wasn't I'd be asking?"

"Well, no." Scorpius said after a pause.

"Right. So just tell me, please. Am I?"

There was not a pause this time. "No."

Potter looked at him skeptically. "You're not just saying that?"

"No. You look just as Gryffindor-y as the rest of your family."

He sighed in relief, slumping suddenly. "Thanks.

They sat in silence for few more moments before Al stretched and stood. "Well, I've got to get back. My family will worry. I'll see you later, right?" Albus looked at Scorpius in askance. The latter slowly nodded-he still wasn't sure if this was a weird dream or not. If it was, he really had to stop eating chocolate frogs before bed.

"Bye, Scorpius." Albus smiled-and he was gone.

Hours later, in the silver-green bed of his dorms, Scorpius recalled that smile. How it made his cheeks dimple, his face become brighter and happier.

And he himself smiled into his pillow.