A/N: Three quick things: 1, I don't own these awesome fandoms, two, there is a skewed time line regarding the Harry Potter characters. Their first year is in 1985, and the final battle was in 1993. And three, just a thought, this chapter is "Pilot part 1 (1:1)" and I started it on 1/1/11.

Of All Things: Pilot, Part 1 (1:1)

I stretched in the mildly comfortable seat. I glanced at my reflection in the plastic on the window. My focus shifted to the clouds flowing beneath us set against a color only describable as 'sky blue'. My son, settled in the seat between the window and me, flicked a few strands of dark blonde hair from in front of his silver-blue eyes. He turned the page of the magazine he was poured over. SkyMall the cover read.

"Scorpius, don't waste your time reading about the stupid inventions muggles," I mouthed the word, "Have to replace magic." I pulled the "literature" from his fingertips.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" A stewardess stopped in the aisle alongside us.

"Water," Scorp muttered, remembering the courteous reply when asked what to drink by a muggle. 'Pumpkin juice' isn't an acceptable answer in the muggle world.

"Something strong," I whispered, turning away so my son couldn't hear. She smirked. "Something funny?"

"I just had a passenger ask for something a bit stronger than what he had. 'Used the same phrase."

"Tell him, er, great minds think alike!" I faked a smile. The stewardess smiled in return.

"Coming right up." She walked away, swaying her hips.

"Aren't you still married to mum?"

"Not anymore, Scorp." A man rushed down the aisle. He glanced back, sweat soaking the collar of his shirt. He slammed into the lavatory door. The woman who waited on us followed in quick pursuit.

Scorpius had picked up a card depicting stick figures demonstrating various safety equipment. Before I could stop him from reading that too, the plane jarred to the side suddenly.

"Dad!"

"You're fine. My husband has always told me that the planes want to be up in the air." A woman across the aisle, and one seat back addressed my son's outburst.

"Thank you," I twisted around to face her. "He said thank you." She nodded, gripping the arm rest as another wave of turbulence crashed into the aircraft.

"Dad, I don't- I don't like this."

"The pilot has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. Please remain seated."

"Son, this is why we apparate. Sadly, you aren't thirteen, the legal side-along apparition age, so this will have to do." The airline shook violently, lasting much longer than the previous quakes. A man was thrown from his seat and was crushed against the roof. Spare pieces of luggage slid down the aisle. I felt the pull of gravity as we plummeted downward. Masks descended from a compartment in the ceiling. I pushed them out of the way, reaching for my wand. Securing the familiar piece of hawthorn in my hand I mumbled a few words that should make this nightmare waiting to happen stop. Only it didn't.

I heard a muffled "Dad!" as a piece of elastic was tossed around my head, making it easier to breathe. Scorp's hand twisted around mine as a flash of light surrounded the cabin.

"Someone, anyone, please! Help!" My voice was growing hoarse. The scene was chaos. Half of the aircraft was thrown to pieces; one of the turbines was whirring, as if still attached. People everywhere were bloodied, dead, or dismembered. My father laid in the sand, unconscious. I was scared. "Anyone!"

A man was sucked into the turbine. A cacophony of screams matched the intensity of the resulting explosion. I noticed a man talk to another. He pointed to a pregnant woman a ways a way.

"Sir! HELP!" The man ran over, his tie tossed over one shoulder. He fell to his knees beside Dad.

"Are you his son?" I nodded. "He's breathing, and I have a pulse, when he wakes up, give him…" The man rifled through his pocket. He brought up several orange bottles, selected one, and dumped out a pill. "This. With some water."

"Sir, what's your name? So I can let him know?"

"Jack. You?" He squinted into the sunlight.

"I'm Scorpius." My dad started to stir.

"Here," Jack handed me a bottle of water. He stood up, jogging over to another injured passenger.

"S…"

"Don't talk dad, sit up." He slid up from his back, brushing sand weakly from his dress shirt.

"Where are we?"

"Dad, take this, the ma- Jack. I think he's a healer or something. He told me to give it to you."

"This, Jack. Can I trust him?" I nodded, and he swallowed the pill without water.

"Drink. I'll go find our trun-"

"Stay." And there we sat, staring out into the sea for the next several hours.

"Dude, are you guys hungry?" A rotund man with curly black hair walked up to us, carrying a tray. When he got closer, I could see the Oceanic logo stamped into the plastic. "Here. You guys make thirty-two. 32 survivors so far."

"Joy," I said sarcastically, handing the tray to Scorpius.

"Thank you sir."

"Polite kid. 'Name's Hurley." He stuck out his hand. I accepted.

"Malfoy. Draco."

"Scorpius," my son offered his hand.

"Like I said, polite kid." Hurley accepted the handshake. "See ya later." When he was out of earshot, I scoffed.

"Muggles."

A/N: I will update as often as possible, and, fingers crossed, will not abandon this one!