Disclaimer: Harry Potter and family belong as always to J.K. Rowling and her publishers worldwide. I have so much fun playing with them, but I'll put them back when I'm done.

Author's Note: Written for LindaSnape's Obscure Pairings Challenge on TGS. This is my first foray into Next-Gen; it had to happen sometime! I am having a ball writing this story, and I hope you enjoy it.

The Scamander twins are not given a birth year in canon, but for the purposes of this challenge, I've put them in Albus Potter's year at Hogwarts.

Beta-read by the wonderful onestop_hpfan18 / Leslie at TGS. Thank you! Any remaining errors are all mine.

Sticky Buns and Haggis

September, 2017

"Gryffindor first-years, this way!" The tall girl's silver-blonde hair rippled back over her shoulders, alive with more than the dancing torchlight. Holding a wide scroll, she stood proudly at the head of the line of anxious new students. A pimply kid from the Slytherin line edged his way closer to the Gryffindors. The blonde girl flashed him a terrifying look. For a fraction of a second, her eyes seemed to glow as orange as the torches, sending him skittering back to his own people. The Slytherins roared with laughter.

Lysander leaned close to his sleepy twin and poked him hard to get his attention. "Who is that girl with the scroll?"

Lorcan rubbed the sore spot on his ribs. "Your Prefect, you dolt. Better follow her."

Lysander felt a sudden lurch of sickness. Two different flights of stairs led away from the Great Hall. The boys had planned the whole thing at home, safe and secure in their own bunks at night. It would be okay if they were sorted into different Houses; they were eleven years old, and they sort of felt they needed the space. Standing outside the Great Hall, watching the Ravenclaws go one way and the Gryffindors another, Lysander didn't think it was a great idea at all.

"Uh, see you tomorrow then."

Lorcan hugged him hard. Spikes of dirty blond hair poked Lysander in the face. "Don't worry. Mum always said Gryffindors were nice."

Lysander laughed nervously. "I dunno about Mum's opinion of 'nice.' That's what she said about that fairy that poked me in the eye when we were five."

"Scamander!" snapped the Prefect.

The kids toward the back of the line guffawed at him. Lorcan gave Lysander a little push toward the Gryffindors. Unobtrusively, Lorcan slipped into the orderly file of Ravenclaws. Lysander followed his new class up the stairs, loving and envying his twin in equal measure. If there was one word for Lorcan Scamander, it was "smooth." Lorcan was just like Dad. He could easily find his way out of anything with a smile and a clever bon mot. Lysander was the awkward one, more like Mum. The difference between Lysander and his mother was that Mum floated happily through her daily life at Hogwarts, ignoring the worst of the jibes turned toward those kids who just didn't fit in. Without Lorcan by his side, Lysander wasn't sure he could handle it. Lysander's eyes stung. He pressed one hand quickly to his nose as he climbed the seemingly endless stairs.

A short, chestnut-skinned boy walking next to him said, "You all right?"

"Yeah. Allergies."

The boy grinned understandingly. "I'm Alfie Shacklebolt. You?"

"I'm Lorcan... uh, I mean Lysander Scamander," Lysander stammered, even tripping over his own name in an effort not to make a prat out of himself. The Shacklebolt kid looked an awful lot like the Minister: he was probably his son. "My twin's name is Lorcan. He's in Ravenclaw."

Alfie's cheerful face lit up. "Your mum's Luna Lovegood!"

Lysander felt edgy. "So what?"

"My Dad says she's cool."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we still take the Quibbler; Dad likes the beauty tips," Alfie laughed, and Lysander felt an embarrassed smile creep onto his face.

"Shacklebolt! Scamander!" Lysander's head snapped up guiltily. "Shut it back there! You're not even going to hear the password, and you can bet your last Dungbomb I'm not spending the entire next week repeating it to first-years who can't pay attention!"

"Who is that?" Lysander hissed.

"Victoire Weasley. Seventh-year Prefect," Alfie said, running a finger around his collar. "Heard she's tough."

"I should have recognized her!" Considering how much Mum liked to talk about her school friends, she was surprisingly quiet about the time she spent at Shell Cottage. Lysander suspected those stories fell under the category of "I'll tell you when you're older."

Lysander tripped on the lip of the portrait hole and sprawled at Victoire's feet. "Scamander," she said sharply. Lysander gaped at her. "Repeat the password."

"Uh, venomous tentacula."

Victoire's smooth face barely showed her irritation. To Lysander, it felt like the static in the air before a thunderstorm. "Listen, I'm not doing you any favors. You're at Hogwarts now, and you're going to have to get along on your own hard work here. Clear?"

Bawling in front of everybody was not the way Lysander wanted to start his first night in the dorms. He fought for control of his voice. "I'm sorry, Miss Weasley. I didn't mean to miss the password, I was just talking."

"Ice Mice," said Victoire, her eyes softening just a fraction. She turned him around and gave him a push toward the twin spiral staircases. "The first-year boys' dorm is on the second floor. The boys' stairs are on the left. Breakfast starts at seven, and the first class begins promptly at eight-thirty."

Lysander shuffled dispiritedly toward the stairs. He thought he could still feel the warmth of Victoire's hands on his shoulders.

A group of older kids were laughing in the Common Room behind him. "Don't let Cousin Vicky get you riled up. She's the most evil Prefect outside of Slytherin!"

"Watch it!" snapped Victoire. Laughter followed Lysander as he ascended out of sight.

*

Lysander passed a sleepless night. Part homesickness and part excitement, the feeling was impossible to shake. From the lower windows of Gryffindor Tower, he watched the sun rise through dry, sticky eyes. Alfie Shacklebolt snored in the next bed. Crimson velvet curtains waved slightly in the soft breeze coming off the lake. He thought he could see sinuous tentacles waving just below the surface, but he was probably imagining things.

Lysander smiled as he remembered how his Mum brought the Giant Squid a different treat every day until she finally made friends with it. "Bring the old dear a batch of Cauldron Cakes and give him my love," she told the boys. Lorcan had rolled his eyes and gone off to practice Quidditch in the garden, but Lysander thought he might really do it if he got a chance.

Lysander leaned his head against the cool stone window frame. He fiddled with his birch wand, polished to velvet smoothness and lightweight between his fingers. Lysander wondered whether Lorcan was sitting up in Ravenclaw Tower. Probably not: his twin could sleep upside down in a tree. Lysander chuckled and pulled the thick gray blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"Scamander," whispered Alfie, poking his head out through the tasseled curtains. "You just get up?"

"I wish, couldn't sleep."

"I kept dreaming about being Sorted. Gave me the creeps, that Hat."

Lysander shivered. "Yeah, didn't seem to have any problem about putting me here, but I've got my doubts."

Alfie chuckled and scratched his closely shaven head. With a flourish, he pulled a violently lime-green dressing gown out of his trunk. "No worries mate. I'm starved, let's get a move on."

Cleaned up and dressed in scratchy new uniforms and robes, the boys were among the first students to show up for breakfast. As Lysander sat down at the Gryffindor table, a sharp pain tore into his upper thigh. Lysander jumped up and yelled, spilling Alfie's pumpkin juice.

"Hey!" Alfie protested. Lysander pulled something hard out of his leg. The pointy end caught on the woolen robe, and Lysander had to wiggle it from side to side to get it free. "What in Merlin's name is that?"

Lysander flushed and regarded the hollow spine in his hand. "Mum must've run out of normal straight pins... I think this is an African porcupine quill."

"Seriously?" Alfie hooted. "You must have the funniest house anywhere, man." Alfie clapped him on the back. "Anybody here know a siphoning charm?"

The teachers at the head table mostly ignored the fracas. Professor Hagrid had the Daily Prophet open to the funny pages, and was pointing out a clever cartoon to his diminutive neighbor, Professor Flitwick. Lysander saw Professor Longbottom, their Head of House, sectioning a grapefruit with his wand. Mr. McLaggen, the burly flying coach, tucked into what appeared to be a steaming plate of haggis.

Alfie retched as the aroma wafted past the end of their table. "I do not know how anybody can eat that stuff for breakfast! Do you know what's in haggis?"

"Don't even go there. I'm a vegetarian."

Victoire Weasley settled down at the far end of the table. She sprinkled half a spoonful of sugar in her coffee, added a microscopic dot of cream, and sipped it quietly, flipping through the first pages of a thick textbook. Lysander's stomach gave a funny little jump that had nothing to do with the smell of haggis. Alfie poked his upper arm. "Wake up! I asked you to pass the marmalade, like, two minutes ago."

"Sorry, mate." Lysander handed over the marmalade, but couldn't keep his eyes from the end of the Gryffindor table. Victoire's glass-smooth hair shone pale azure in the reflected glow from the enchanted ceiling. "C'mon, let's move further down the table."

Alfie chewed noisily. "What for?" He belched and wiped his fingers on his robes.

"C'mon, I see a plate of sticky buns."

"Say no more!" Alfie obligingly moved the remains of his pumpkin juice several seats closer to Victoire, and the two boys dug into the sweets.

"Mum never lets us eat like this at breakfast. She says it interferes with your energies to eat junk food first thing in the morning."

Alfie licked icing from his fingers. "Oh yeah? I feel good as new." He belched loudly and received dirty looks from a cluster of third- or fourth-year girls sitting a few yards away. Alfie doffed his short, pointed black hat and gave what passed for a little bow in his seat. "Excuse me, ladies."

The girls looked revolted. "The first-years are much worse than usual this year," one girl complained. "Were we ever that stupid?"

Lysander and Alfie broke out laughing.

"It's Weasley!" A squealing giggle assaulted Lysander's ears from close range. Lysander made a pained face at Alfie, who stuck his tongue out. "I missed you so much this summer, Vicky, I've been deadly bored without you!" Two older girls, nearly grown-ups as far as Lysander could tell, greeted his Prefect with extreme enthusiasm and many air-kisses. The curly-haired blonde sidled in beside Victoire on the long bench, and the short girl with long black braids perched on the opposite side of the table.

The blonde girl leaned confidentially toward Victoire and spoke in a low voice. "Weasley, I thought sure you'd be Head Girl this year! What happened?"

Victoire flushed a little and turned the page of her Potions text. Even Lysander could see that her fingertips were shaking. "Vicky dear, I didn't mean to upset you! I'm really sorry."

"You and every Weasley from here to Timbuktu," complained Victoire. "I swear, I never heard the end of it all summer!" When Victoire was upset, noticed Lysander, she had a little bit of a French accent. It was really nice.

The black-haired girl changed the subject. "I saw you snogging Lupin at the station! So, has he asked you yet?"

Victoire turned a scathing glance toward her friend. Again, Lysander saw a shadow flicker around her eyes, a golden flash like a hawk ready to drop on a fat pigeon. "Has Teddy Lupin asked me what?"

The blonde pulled back and scowled. "Vicky! Defensive much?"

The dark-haired girl chimed in. "What Hazel means, are you going to marry Teddy Lupin?"

Victoire got up from the bench. "I'm seventeen, silly. I've got to concentrate on N.E.W.T.s this year while Teddy's in the Auror course. If he keeps passing the exams, it would be three more years before he's finished."

"And then?"

Victoire's smile was enigmatic as she leaned over the table, sweeping her heavy schoolbooks into her arms. "We'll see if he can hold my interest that long." She paused by Alfie and Lysander on the way to the door, giving them her friendliest smile yet. Lysander felt the pit of his stomach contract again as she approached. Mum might have been right about too many sweets at breakfast.

"Be good, boys. The second-years are already bleeding House points, but I have higher hopes for your class."

"That totally stinks." James Potter clambered onto the bench beside Alfie. "I swear she was lurking outside the boys' loo this morning to see whether I was going to try to nick a toilet seat. Seriously, family means nothing these days. Hey, Shacklebolt! Scamander!"

Lysander couldn't help cringing. James's angular, freckled face and rumpled brown hair brought back too many memories of enforced playtime at the Potters'. Even when they were little kids, James had gotten along far better with Lorcan than with Lysander. Lorcan and James were both into Quidditch and practical jokes. Lysander generally ended up hiding out in the garden with Albus until Lily, the pest, found them, and his idealistic Mum insisted they all play together.

Invariably, the boys' games came to blows. Mum and Aunt Ginny patched everybody up while Dad and Uncle Harry laughed their heads off inside. Lysander had been secretly relieved when they moved to Sweden so Mum could write her book on the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Visits with the Potters dwindled to once every few years, then hardly at all. Mum and Aunt Ginny were still best friends, though.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" James flexed his wand with a magnanimous smile. "Anybody been giving you trouble?"

Alfie grinned. "Nah, not yet. Having a sticky bun, care for one?"

"Full up," said James, patting his stomach. "Had some haggis, that'll stick to your ribs."

"You can't be serious!" Alfie looked like he was going to hurl. James basked in a range of disgusted reactions from around the table. Lysander kept his mouth full so he didn't have to talk to James.

"Hey, where's your brother?" Alfie asked James.

James glanced around, shifty-eyed as if he wanted to make sure nobody was listening. "Slytherin."

"Blimey!" Alfie exclaimed and nearly knocked over the remains of his pumpkin juice. "How'd I miss that?"

"I wish I'd missed it, too." James squished a sticky bun in his palm. Icing squeezed out between his fingers. "I can't bloody believe it. What are Mum and Dad going to say?"

Lysander had mistrusted James since he was about four years old, but he felt badly for him. "Lorcan's in Ravenclaw; I was pretty unhappy we weren't put together, too."

James sneered. "Oh, Ravenclaw would have been fine. How's it going to look for the Head Auror's kid to be in Slytherin, anyway? Nobody cares where you guys get Sorted."

Lysander's heart pounded heavily with embarrassment. Guess he wouldn't try being nice to James Potter again anytime soon. Glancing over at the Slytherin tables by the far wall, Lysander saw Albus sitting by himself. He hadn't changed a bit, still short and skinny with unruly hair like Uncle Harry's. Albus's breakfast was untouched, and he looked miserable. Lysander wished he could talk to Albus, but he remembered the disgusting hexes James had practiced on them with Aunt Ginny's purloined wand. James didn't have to steal a wand anymore. Lysander decided to catch up with Albus at another time.

All too soon, it was time for their first class. Even Alfie looked nervous, rummaging through his bag for his books. "What's first up?" Lysander asked.

Alfie perked up when he found the schedule. The scroll was smeared with sticky bun icing, and Alfie had a bit of trouble prying it apart to read it. "Sweet! Flying lessons with Ravenclaw! You can introduce me to your brother!"

Lysander groaned with dread.