Scorpius looked up from the letter and out across the Apennine Mountains, leaning into the railing of the balcony. The mild weather made him feel weightless as the morning light met the treetops, and he watched the sunrise like he had every morning since they'd left England.
He folded the letter carefully and slid it back into its thick parchment envelope before tucking it in his pocket, sniffing back some tears. He and Albus had been away from home for three weeks, moving from town to town through the Floo network, visiting wizarding settlements and muggle museums alike throughout Italy.
Scorpius had regretted their decision to leave almost immediately. His enthusiasm to get away and his impulse to just act normal had gotten the better of him, and with the rush of exploring, he'd pushed Albus too hard too fast without even realizing. By the end of the third day he'd had to figure out the Roman muggle taxi system in a language he was barely passable in because Albus, despite his valiant effort, was nearly unable to walk.
Albus was a better liar than Scorpius had given him credit for, and his poker face was unshakable for the first few days. He insisted he was fine in the mornings, ready to go exploring again, and Scorpius wanted so badly to believe him. He'd relied on his cane and had taken a few more breaks than Scorpius would have otherwise, but had kept a smile on until they'd reached the wizarding settlement of Mirto in southern Italy. Only then did he ask for a day to just explore the small village and rest.
"Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?" Scorpius asked in their small, rented room at the heart of the settlement. He'd folded his arms and scowled while Albus poured himself another glass of wine.
"You were having so much fun," Albus had said. "And it's just a little sore - that's all."
Scorpius wasn't fooled, and he'd tried to convince Albus it was time to go home, but it was no use. He suspected Albus wanted to keep travelling for the same unspoken reason they'd taken the trip to start with, despite Draco's pleas that they stay – their lives had become a series of befores and afters. Before the Time Turner Incident. After Godric's Hollow. Before Scorpius was held captive. After Albus was injured.
They had to do something to make this after a bit more enjoyable.
Now, Scorpius looked over his shoulder through the small glass door, attempting to quell his headache by rubbing his temples. Albus was still asleep in bed, tangled in the sheets with the pillows awkwardly placed under his knee to make himself comfortable, his hand resting above him on the pillow wrapped in gauze because Albus just had to play with the dragons at the Mirto preserve and the hatchling Romanian Longhorn had bit him.
"He's the runt of the litter," Albus had said affectionately while his hand bled on the dragon's tail. "He doesn't know how to socialize."
Scorpius shook his head and looked out over the mountains again, closing his eyes and enjoying the stillness until he lost track of time.
"What are you doing out here?"
Scorpius jumped, startled, and looked back to Albus standing in the doorway with his sloppy morning smile.
"Just getting some air."
"You were reading that letter again, weren't you?"
Scorpius looked away, his hand instinctively moving towards his pocket. Albus limped from the doorway to join him at the railing, and Scorpius leaned over to kiss the top of his head.
"I might have been," he admitted.
"Are you ever going to let me see it?"
"Maybe someday," Scorpius said. "When I can read it without tearing up."
"We cry a lot for Slytherins," Albus said thoughtfully.
"Well, you get teary when you're frustrated," Scorpius said. "I'm just a child in an adult's body."
"That's not true," Albus protested through a yawn. "You're at least a first year in an adult's body."
Scorpius laughed, which seemed to be enough for Albus because he smiled sleepily and sank into one of the patio chairs.
"Why don't you go back to bed?" Scorpius asked. "You still look tired."
"We have museums to see," Albus said, twirling his wand between his fingertips. "And bookstores to visit, I'm sure. Possibly a library or two."
"I think we should go home today," Scorpius said carefully. Albus' hand went still and he looked up, displeased.
"No, we're going into Florence today," Albus said slowly. "And the day after tomorrow we're going to Turin."
Scorpius chose his words carefully. "We've been gone for a while," he said, leaning back on the railing nonchalantly. "I've already frightened three families just by being Scorpius Malfoy –"
"Neither of us were expecting that story to have been covered internationally," Albus defended. "And that mother needed to calm down. You were just handing her kid back the toy wand."
Scorpius continued. "And I'm starting to get nervous about finding a flat -"
"You're a bad liar," Albus said coolly. "We do not need to go back early. I'm quite enjoying myself and I'm just fine."
"You nearly collapsed yesterday and almost fell asleep in your pizza."
"That was the wine," Albus said defensively.
"You always were a cheap drunk."
Albus scowled at him.
"We're not going home," Albus declared, unwrapping the bandage from his hand. "I'm just a little slow is all."
Scorpius took the seat across from him and examined the bite marks. It was nearly healed, thanks to some spectacular salve one of the Mirto wizards had given them.
"It's going to leave a scar," Scorpius said, disappointed.
"Wicked," Albus countered, grinning as he examined the marks on the back of his hand. "It actually looks like a dragon bite. I can't wait to show Uncle Charlie."
"So the death wish thing... that's a Weasley trait?"
"I get it from both sides," Albus said, holding his hand out to the light. "And it's not a death wish. It's just old-fashioned recklessness."
Scorpius shook his head, playing with Albus' fingers. "You should have been a Gryffindor."
Before Albus could offer his usual snarky reply, three owls swooped down onto the balcony - one reaching Albus and two landing in front of Scorpius. He untied the letter from the unknown owl first and it flew off instantly, clearly having better things to do, but his favorite of the Malfoy owls, Noctua, gave him an affectionate hoot and he stroked her feathers lightly as he unburdened her.
"Oh, no," Albus said, examining his letter.
"What?"
"It's our N.E.W.T. scores."
"Yes."
Scorpius ripped his open eagerly and unrolled the parchment, ignoring the introductory language and skipping right to his scores at the center of the page.
"O's and E's," Scorpius announced. "What about you?"
Albus slumped in his chair. To anyone else, it may have looked like defeat, but Scorpius knew better - Albus was relieved. He silently handed over his letter and Scorpius grabbed it, scanning it quickly.
"You got an Outstanding on Creatures, Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said as Albus read Scorpius' scores. "That's excellent."
"Well, so did you - except Defense. Dad might take that personally," Albus said. "And you got O's in History of Magic and Runes."
"I would have gotten one in Astronomy too if I'd slept better the night before."
Albus pursed his lips. He remembered the night before the Astronomy exam, and it hadn't been pleasant.
"We all have bad nights," Albus said, possibly for the millionth time.
Scorpius set down the parchment, relieved. He hadn't expected an outstanding on his Defense Against the Dark Arts exam anyway - he'd hesitated too long with the boggart and hadn't exactly maintained his composure - but he'd been worried sick about Albus' Care of Magical Creatures results. Not only did his job at the Magizoology Society depend on it, the test had followed their Defense exam and Albus had been distracted.
"Well," Scorpius began, smiling, "it looks like you had nothing to worry about at all concerning your job."
"Nothing at all," Albus agreed, though the way he looked out over the mountains said he was very worried indeed.
Scorpius sighed and grabbed the second letter, recognizing Ainsley's loopy handwriting immediately. He pulled out her letter and found it longer than expected.
"Who's that from?"
"Ainsley," Scorpius said. "She says dad and Dania took her into London to replace all of the things her mother had bought her."
Albus laughed. "That's such a Malfoy thing to do."
Scorpius looked at him over the top of his glasses.
"It was my suggestion."
"Exactly."
Draco Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace and into the Potters' sitting room with no warning or introduction and walked swiftly into their kitchen where Harry and Ginny were enjoying their coffee late into Sunday morning in their pajamas.
"Potters," he began quickly, tossing several newspapers down onto the table. Ginny jumped and looked up at him. "We need to talk about our sons."
"Good morning to you too, Draco."
"What did they do now?" Harry asked, flatly, turning the page of his book idly.
"At least put your book down," Draco said, and when Harry did not he snatched it from his hands and dogeared the page before setting it down atop the papers.
"Don't ever let Hermione see you do that," Ginny warned. She and Harry looked at Draco, amused, which only served to irritate him more.
"This isn't funny," Draco snapped. Harry grinned in delight. "We have a problem."
"Does it have anything to do with you wearing that ridiculous jumper in summer?" Ginny asked. Harry gestured for Draco to sit, but was ignored.
"I have spent the last week searching for a suitable living place for Scorpius - and thus Albus," Draco explained. Harry looked down and realized he had brought muggle newspapers, and he looked at Draco's worried face, a brow quirked in amusement. "And I know that they said they wanted to do things by themselves and I accepted it at the time, but do you have any idea what some of these flats in London look like? The ones they would be able to afford?"
"Yes, Draco," Harry said, sipping his coffee calmly.
"No son of mine will be living in one of these hovels," Draco demanded. "And I'll be damned if I'd see Albus living in one of them too. After everything they've been through..."
"Draco, please sit down," Ginny repeated. She was ignored again.
"How could you possibly let Albus live in one of these places? You know as well as I do that all the living spaces in Diagon Alley are full -"
"Draco, please."
"And for Merlin's sake, all those stairs in those muggle complexes. And they wouldn't even be able to use magic regularly -"
"It's really cute how you're so protective of Albus now," Ginny said, smiling sweetly.
"It's not cute, Weasley -"
"Potter," Ginny corrected.
"It's practical. If your son is miserable, my son is miserable."
"They're not going to be miserable," Harry said firmly, raising his voice. "Now sit down, Malfoy."
Draco sneered at him, and fell into the vacant seat across from him.
"We already have a plan," Harry assured him.
"Oh, this should be good -"
"If you don't shut up I won't help the next time your son is kidnapped," Harry snapped.
Draco folded his arms and fell silent, scowling.
"What's your plan?"
"I was going to write to you later today about this. You're either going to like the idea or hate it," Harry said. "But it's the best one I have."
Draco didn't like the sound of that at all.
"I still happen to own some property in London," Harry said slowly. "And I'd like to see it finally put to good use."
"Property in London?"
"Yes. Did you... did your mother ever take you to 12 Grimmauld Place?"
Draco's eyes widened.
"No," said Draco quickly, shaking his head. He'd heard stories of that drafty house with its inhabitants as cold as the upstairs drawing room. He remembered is photographs of his mother's showing the family tree spread across a wall. She'd pointed out his face in one of those photographs when she'd tried to explain his long, proud lineage.
"Scorpius can't live there."
"No one has been there for years," Ginny said, reaching across the table and patting Draco's arm to comfort him, and he was surprised at himself for not pulling away. "Harry and I visited it a few days ago. It's so dreary and old, so we were going to renovate it."
"And it won't look anything like what it was before?"
"No," said Harry. "It will be the kind of place Sirius would have been proud of."
Draco looked down at the table for a moment. It was, for all pragmatic purposes, a perfectly sound plan, though the idea of setting foot in his mother's family home made his skin crawl. What was left of the Black family hadn't exactly approved of his post-Hogwarts choices, and certainly wouldn't approve of his son's Potter-boyfriend.
"Is the family tree still there?"
Harry nodded slowly, and Draco met his eyes.
"Can we tear it out?"
Harry grinned mischievously, and it struck him once again that Albus had inherited some of his father's expressions.
"With pleasure."
Albus sat on an old bench in Piazza Della Repubblica, licking away at a Nutella gelato cone. The sun was bright but the dry air and breeze had kept them comfortable all day as they went from place to place with Scorpius hailing taxis whenever they had to go more than a block. Albus was impressed with how quickly he'd picked up the skill.
He sat and rested, one hand idly tapping his sore knee, as Scorpius wandered into the center of the square near the ornate carousel, a guidebook in one hand and his gelato cone in the other. He looked around, consulting the book over and over, squinting into the sun while he looked for things. Albus watched his face as he tried to translate the words above the grand arch, nudging his glasses up absently and smearing gelato on the lens.
Albus rested his chin in his hand, smiling as Scorpius wiped them clean with his sleeve - he always wore long sleeves now to hide his scars, just like his father - wrinkling his nose in annoyance at the interruption. His hair was nearly the brightest thing in the square, and Albus laughed as two small children ran past him and he dodged quickly, all long-legs and flailing arms.
How, Albus wondered, can he possibly be such a good dancer and such a klutz the rest of the time?
Scorpius' attention went back to his guide book for a moment as he wandered closer to the carousel - Albus was sure he'd hear all about its historical significance and the importance some long-forgotten wizard architect had on the construction of the plaza in a few minutes, and that Scorpius was just entertaining himself until Albus' knee decided to stop twitching again.
Albus was just about to stand up and join him when Scorpius grinned and looked up from a plaque he'd been examining - one of the informational ones Albus usually ignored. It was the same grin Scorpius had when he performed well on a test or mastered a difficult spell, and with the sun in his hair and the distance between where they were now and all the pain and bullying and jeering, Albus felt a swell of gratitude he'd become very familiar with.
He watched, smiling stupidly, as Scorpius all but skipped back to where he sat.
"Your gelato is melting," Scorpius laughed as he approached. Albus looked at his hand and saw a trickle of liquid running down his hand, and he licked it off while Scorpius sat down beside him.
"So, did you know that it was actually one of your Aunt Fleur's ancestors who designed that arch?" Scorpius chattered. "It was way back on her father's side..."
Albus stopped listening, not because he didn't enjoy listening to Scorpius' excited rants, but because he was thrilled at their return - however slow, and however sparse. He bit into the cone absently, watching as Scorpius talked with his hands and pointed at things, his voice bright and interested.
"Are you listening?" Scorpius asked.
"No," Albus laughed honestly. "But keep talking anyway."
Draco and Harry stood shoulder to shoulder in the empty room, staring at the Black family tree. All the other faces and names blended together with their cruel smiles or scowls, until Draco got to the bottom where his aunts and parents were. He stared at his own face for a long time before Harry spoke, snapping him from his disdainful reverie.
"How do you want to do this?"
"Is 'aggressively' an option?"
"Yes, but 'quickly' is too."
A crash and laughter from downstairs told them that Ginny and Dania had begun arranging the new furniture.
"Let's blast it down," Draco said. "The whole wall. We'll just make this room the library."
"Do they really need a library?"
"Have you met my son?"
Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're right. Besides, I'm making sure the kitchen is decent so Albus can cook."
"Good, because if he doesn't, they'll both starve. I don't even think Scorpius can make a sandwich."
Harry laughed and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, which was grimy from a day of clearing out the second floor. Magic was all well and good for moving and cleaning, but the dust had been insurmountable and Draco wondered if he looked as rough. They'd been going at this for two days and the sun had nearly set. Even with Ginny and Dania's combined knowledge of household spells and Draco and Ainsley's eye for decorating, there was at least one day left.
Draco drew his wand from the inside of his sleeve and eyed the wall again. It was just a wall, he knew. A thing, but taking it down so his son could live in this old house felt more significant than he'd expected.
"Alright there?"
"Yeah," Draco answered. "It's just a little warm."
Harry sighed and lowered his wand.
"You can take the jumper off, you know," Harry said. "It's the middle of summer and… well, we all know it's there."
Draco looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye and saw that his arms were crossed.
"I never…" Draco stopped and sighed. "I think Scorpius has only ever seen it once or twice."
"We've both got scars from Voldemort," Harry reminded him. "At least yours isn't on your face."
Draco laughed in spite of himself, considering Harry's words, and after a moment he reached for the hem of his jumper and pulled it off. The temperature was far more agreeable in just a t-shirt.
"Better?"
"Better," Draco confirmed.
Harry glanced at Draco's forearm curiously, and he turned it so Harry could get a better look. The Dark Mark wasn't recognizable now. Over the years it had turned into an oddly-shaped scar that looked more like a burn, which Draco felt was appropriate. To him, it was like an old brand – a remnant from when he was someone else's property.
"You can barely tell what it is," Harry said with a shrug.
Draco said nothing, and raised his wand to the wall, staring directly at Bellatrix Lestrange's manic eyes.
"Come on, Potter," Draco said. "This library isn't going to build its self."
Scorpius stretched out across the bed, staring up through the sky light. Milan's wizarding community was small and sparsely populated, but their primary location of business was, as Scorpius had found, quite impressive. He swirled his finger in the air, levitating a purportedly enchanted glass bauble in the air as he did so, watching the light refract through the swirled colors.
"It still creeps me our when you do that," Albus said from the desk as he wrote a letter to his parents, updating them on their whereabouts and plans for return.
"Sorry. I can stop."
"No, it's fine," Albus admitted. "I'm sure it's just natural for you."
"It's not," Scorpius admitted. Wandless magic would never be natural for him, but he suspected that whatever strange energy ran through him would bottle up if he didn't use it from time to time. "I don't think that it's going to be normal, but I don't want to forget how to use it again."
Albus looked at him for a long moment before turning back to the desk shuffling the papers around.
"I better write to your dad again," Albus said. "I don't want him to have a heart attack because it's been more than 24 hours."
"I definitely don't want another Howler."
"One day!" Albus cried. "We missed one day."
Scorpius laughed, willing the bauble to spin in the air above him. After a few moments of writing, Albus handed the letters over to Noctua, who had been waiting for the last half hour, and took her to the window.
"Do you want to go get lunch?" Albus asked. Scorpius snatched the glass from the air and looked at him. Albus was leaning against the windowsill, hands in his pockets.
"You're still sore from going out earlier," Scorpius said. It wasn't a question.
"I'll be alright," Albus assured him, but Scorpius shook his head.
"I'll just go grab sandwiches form the little café next door," Scorpius said, scrambling inelegantly to his feet. "They looked pretty good in the window."
Albus paused for a moment before nodding, and glanced at his watch.
"Hurry back," he said.
"I can go grab lunch on my own," Scorpius assured him, somewhat amused at his reticence. Still, Albus held out his hand, and Scorpius walked over to him. The rules of being Albus Potter's boyfriend had changed significantly in the last 6 months, and he was all too happy to oblige when it came to the little things.
Scorpius leaned down and gave Albus a brief kiss before wrapping his arms around Albus' shoulders.
"I just worry, you know?"
"I know," Scorpius whispered against his hair. He didn't want to admit that he worried too.
Ainsley had barely spoken all day. She'd taken on the most solitary tasks, happy to be pulling together Scorpius' new life in some part, but still wanting some solitude. It wasn't until they began assembling the library late in the day that anyone took notice.
"You're awfully quiet today," James said, levitating up the last crate of books and settling it at the center of the large room Harry and Draco created.
"Just trying to get things done," Ainsley said absently. She took a box of marked "Albus' Desk" and set it on a table before rummaging through it.
"This is actually going a lot faster with you here, James," Dania said, arranging some photos on a wall.
"Believe me, Bill would have had me working this weekend if he could have."
Ainsley watched as Draco and Dania laid out some framed photographs and trinkets – a globe that spun in time with the earth, Scorpius' antique astronomical clock, and a massive Slytherin banner.
"Thank you for helping," Draco said quietly as Dania shook the banner out. "I really do appreciate it."
Ainsley paused at the tone in Draco's voice. It was rare that he sounded so soft and gentle, even when his words were compassionate. It was a voice he usually reserved for Scorpius, and that he'd only used for Ainsley a few times.
"Of course," Dania said with a smile. "I haven't gotten to spend much time with him or with Albus, but they seem lovely. And I know how much you love your son."
Draco watched closely as Dania repaired some of the stitching on the old banner with her wand. Ainsley wasn't sure if he looked confused or affectionate, but she was certain he was entirely unaware of the Potters milling about around him, laughing and exchanging jokes. Lily nearly ran into him chasing after James, and he didn't even notice.
"Oh!"
Dania withdrew a silver frame from the box and held it out to look at it, smiling.
"It's Scorpius and Astroia. Where should we put it?"
She looked around the room, examining the rapidly-filling shelves and surfaces.
"On the wall?" Draco suggested weakly. Dania shook her head.
"No, it needs to be somewhere he'll see it every day."
Dania walked over to Scorpius' desk near the window and set it in the corner – out of the way, but still prominent.
"There?"
Ainsley looked from the photo of Astoria and a ten-year-old Scorpius to Draco's helpless face. It was still difficult, she'd found, to look at photos of her aunt – but not as difficult as it was to look in the mirror.
"Is that okay?" Dania asked in response to Draco's expression. He stared at her. "We can put it on the wall instead - "
Draco said nothing and set down the books he was holding before drawing Dania into his arms and hugging her tight, his face turned away from Ainsley and into her mahogany hair. Ginny glanced at them and quickly looked away.
Ainsley barely remembered her father, but she was certain he'd never held Daphne Greengrass like that. Maybe if he had, she wouldn't be here with the Malfoys and Potters.
Draco whispered something in Dania's ear, and Ainsley saw her smile before stepping back, holding Draco's hand. Only then did Ainsley look back down into the box of Albus' things – a mixture of old school supplies and disorganized trinkets.
"Ainsley?"
She looked up at James.
"I'm fine," she said quickly.
"Okay," he said slowly. "I was actually just wondering if you wanted to let me deal with Albus' things. He's an awful organizer."
"Yeah. Great."
Ainsley stepped away from Albus' desk and excused herself from the room quickly.
Scorpius walked slowly beside Albus as they examined Strada del Mago – Turin's version of Diagon Alley. Eccentricity, it seemed, was not a trait of only British wizards, and Scorpius didn't mind walking at Albus' pace at all – there was entirely too much to see.
Albus, for his part, seemed just as excited. All the bright colors and interesting voices assaulted them, and he stopped to look into what appeared to be a high-end Quidditch shop.
"I wonder if the Italian racing brooms are better than ours," he wondered aloud. "Like Ferraris."
"What's Ferrari?"
"It's a kind of car," Albus explained. "They're supposed to be really fast. I don't think I've ever even seen one."
"Sounds like something my father would own."
"It's exactly something your father would own," Albus agreed. "I'm going to have to learn to drive when we get back. There's no way around it. James said he'd teach me before we left."
"So you two are getting along better?"
"Actually, yes. Now that he's acting like a rational human being, things are much easier."
Scorpius spotted their destination ahead – a small restaurant tucked in the corner of the alley that Dania had sworn served the best tiramisù she'd ever tasted.
"I think that's the place," Scorpius said. Albus looked down the road, running a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before. Scorpius found it adorable.
"Nice," Albus muttered. "I'm starving."
He stepped away from the window, a bit off balance but far better than he'd been the day before. Still, Scorpius wrapped his arm around Albus' shoulders, lending some support.
"I wish you'd use your cane more consistently," Scorpius said.
"You sound like my mother."
"Your mother and I both care about you," Scorpius reminded him. "And we don't like seeing you in pain."
Albus grumbled at him, but was cut off.
"Malfoy?"
Scorpius paused and looked around, but it only took him a moment to find the speaker – an older woman, standing in the doorway of the shop next to the café. She spoke with a thick Italian accent and grasped the shoulder of a young girl tightly, her crinkled eyes wide and fearful.
"Pardon?" Scorpius asked.
It became immediately apparent that the woman spoke little English as she rambled to the girl rapidly in Italian, shuffling her inside. She glared at Scorpius, who heard his surname no less than three times during her tirade, and he wasn't entirely certain, but he thought he heard her butcher the word "Voldemort" as well.
He stared until the woman had successfully ushered the reluctant girl inside, and followed her into the shop, slamming the door behind herself.
Scorpius sighed, somewhat deflated and aware that, if he really wanted to, he could give the old woman something to be afraid of.
"What's that? The fifth time that's happened?"
"Sixth. And let's not forget the homophobic waiter."
"No, of course not," said Scorpius flatly. "That we can get at home. I thought at least we'd be able to avoid this for a while."
Scorpius gestured at the woman, who was still watching him closely.
"It's fine," Albus assured him. "Really. Let them be afraid. It means no one will hurt you."
Scorpius looked down at him and saw that Albus was smiling encouragingly.
"I think I'm ready to go home, Al," he confessed. Albus looked at the shop window where the woman was still glaring at them, gripping her wand, and he nodded slowly.
"Okay," he agreed finally. "We'll head back in the morning. But first, tiramisu."
There was so much noise coming from upstairs – laughter, the shuffling of boxes, the sound of furniture being levitated and settled on the old floor – and Ainsley couldn't concentrate. She stuck her wand between her teeth and busied her hands with arranging pots and pans in the largest cabinet. With only a week left until her seventeenth birthday, she was able to get away with smaller spells while surrounded by other wizards, but she didn't quite have the focus to stack the cookware properly.
"Need help?"
Ainsley didn't look up. James' voice was easily identifiable.
"I think I've got it," she said, impeded by the wand between her teeth. As soon as she said it, the pans shifted and fell off their shelf with several of them clattering to the floor.
"Bloody hell," she swore, tossing her wand on the counter and crouching down to gather the pans. James joined her.
"Is everything okay?" James asked gently. Ainsley looked up at him and his eyes looked so earnest that it gave her pause and she sank down to sit on the floor.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."
James nested the smaller pots in the larger ones and levitated the stacks into the cabinet before sitting down on the floor in front of her.
"You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to," James said evenly. Ainsley folded her hands in her lap and looked at him. If his reputation hadn't preceded him, Ainsley would have assumed at first glance that James Potter was everything that was warm and comforting. Unlike Albus, whose dark hair, sometimes pale skin and bright green eyes screamed contrast like the edge of an incoming storm, James took after his mother. His messy cinnamon hair and warm brown eyes gave the impression of a burnt orange sunset, and Ainsley found it endearing.
No wonder he'd dated his way through all of Gryffindor.
"One dance does not entitle you to all of my private thoughts," Ainsley said, twisting her bracelet around her wrist. The badger charm was a constant reminder that she didn't belong where she came from, but didn't quite belong where she was either.
"No," James agreed. "It doesn't. But you can't stop be from being concerned. You've been avoiding everyone all day and everyone's worried."
She looked up at him, tight-lipped.
"Well, not everyone," he conceded. "Draco keeps saying it's not a big deal every time mum and Lily ask."
Ainsley exhaled slowly. She wasn't good at talking about her feelings and was even worse at addressing family issues, which had become a more prominent topic than ever since winter.
"The Ministry located my father about a week ago," she told him. James watched her, silent, waiting for her to continue.
"He was a French wizard – pureblood, of course, from some old family - but that's all I really remembered. He and mum got divorced well before I was old enough to remember anything and she never talked about him. I only ever saw one photo."
"I'm sorry," James said. He looked it too, Ainsley realized, and so she continued.
"I always thought she drove him away. I mean, we know she's evil."
James scowled, obviously thinking of how she'd crippled his brother, but said nothing.
"When she went to Azkaban, the Ministry started looking for him because technically I'm still a minor until next week. And they found him, living in Lyon, and explained the situation. And he promptly relinquished his parental rights and made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me."
"What?"
Ainsley shrugged in feigned nonchalance.
"He hadn't seen me since I was a baby," she told him. "I don't know what I expected."
James reached out as if he intended to take her hand, but thought better of it.
"I'm so sorry," he repeated. "That's –"
"It is what it is," Ainsley interrupted, getting to her feet. She hadn't discussed the matter with anyone but Draco, who had promised instantly that she'd always have a home at the Malfoy Manor, and reminded her over and over again that she was family to both him and Scorpius.
Ainsley wished desperately that her cousin was here.
James jumped to his feet, dusting himself off quickly.
"You have to know that it's his loss," James said quietly. "Anyone who knows you would agree."
Ainsley said nothing and busied herself organizing the silverware tray, acutely aware that James was watching her. They stood in silence until James placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You deserve to start over with the Malfoys and your friends – people who actually care about you."
"I don't have many friends left after my mother's trial," she admitted.
"You have Scorpius and Albus. And Lily likes you – though that may be because she's jealous of your hair."
Ainsley chuckled and slipped the tray into the drawer before using scourgify to clear debris off the counter.
"And I don't see Scorpius and Albus going anywhere, so that kind of makes you part of the Potter-Weasley-Grangers. I'll make sure you get your honorary Weasley sweater this Christmas."
"That's not necessary."
"They're quite fashionable," James reminded her, and she smiled up at him, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure you'll have all the Hufflepuff boys fawning all over you."
Her own father hadn't wanted her, and her mother couldn't set aside her pureblood agenda long enough to consider the consequences her actions could have on her only child. Ainsley was certain most of the students at Hogwarts would steer clear of her during her seventh year, the Hufflepuff boys included.
"I don't think many of the Hufflepuff boys are interested in a neo-Death Eater's pureblood daughter," Ainsley admitted. "Besides, they're all so…"
"Nice?"
"Boring."
She leaned into the counter, looking down at her hazy reflection in the marble surface, wishing once again that she looked less like a Greengrass. She'd give up her straight features and smooth honey brown hair in a heartbeat if it meant she could pass as anything else.
"Just as well," James said, leaning back on the counter and folding his arms. "Gives me more of a chance at convincing you to go out with me."
"Oh, really?"
Ainsley looked at the wolfish grin on his face – the only feature he shared with his brother.
"Of course. Just because you've thus far ignored my invitations for drinks, a trip to Hogsmeade, dinner in London –" he ticked off the requests on his fingers "flying in the countryside and that party out at Finnigan-Thomas' house doesn't mean I've given up."
Ainsley blushed and subsequently hated herself for it.
"I thought you'd have moved on," she conceded. "That is your modus operandi, isn't it?"
"Perhaps it was previously," James conceded. "But I'm determined to make you like me."
Ainsley shuffled her feet.
"It's not that I don't like you, James," she muttered.
"It's not?" James asked, surprised. She looked up at him again, feeling short, small, and ineloquent all at once.
"Of course not. It's just…" Ainsley looked away, focusing instead on a cluster of mugs waiting to be shelved. "A lot has happened. It's a lot to take in – a lot of change."
"I can wait," James said. "You'll find I can be patient as well as persistent. I once took a week-long vow of silence in an effort to get a new broom."
"How did that work?"
"It didn't, but my parents did gain a new level of respect for my stubbornness."
Ainsley couldn't help but laugh at him, nervously playing with her bracelet once more.
"Take as long as you need," James said, his voice suddenly serious and heavy. "I'll still be here."
"Thank you," she whispered.
Harry, Ginny and Draco had gone down to the kitchen to receive some celebratory Butterbeer upon completion of the final guest room, but stopped short when the stumbled upon the scene in the kitchen. James had been an excellent consoler when his siblings and cousins had cried as children, but Harry had never seen him use those skills on anyone outside the family.
The three stood outside the door, hidden from view, and listened to the end of James and Ainsley's conversation with parental curiosity. Ginny stifled a laugh at James' reference to his childhood silent protest, sharing a grin with Harry.
When the pair left through the other side of the room so Ainsley could show James what she'd done with the rear patio, Draco folded his arms and looked at Harry.
"What the hell is it with your sons and these Greengrass children?" he asked, aghast.
"I have no idea," Harry admitted, his hands raised in surrender.
"What is it with those Greengrass kids and the Weasley boys?" Ginny retorted. She and Draco locked eyes, staring each other down until all three started laughing.
"Damn Weasleys," Draco said, shaking his head and sauntering into the kitchen. Harry grinned.
"Exactly."