Prologue-ish
Albus Potter never found it easy why he disliked Scorpius Malfoy, but he wonders quietly as he stares at the blonde boy in front of him.
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Albus Severus Potter is not brave. He knows that much. It's probably one of main reason why he was sorted into Slytherin. A thought as fleeting as the moving scenery inside the train. There are few things that frighten Albus immensely which are: things he can't see, things he fight with, abstract pointless things that keep him up at night.
He knows because he is Harry Potter's son. It has left a mark on him, a significantly large one. There's the insecurity that settles deep into his stomach, the guilt he tries to shrug away, the words that flow like the wind, and the fear of judgment. The expectations that cripple his shoulders feel a lot like condemnation.
He knows because when he stares at his dad, the boy who saved the Wizarding World, and realizes that his eyes are a much darker shade than his father's.
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When Albus was fours years old, he lived in a crappy apartment somewhere in Diagon Alley. Back when his dad wasn't the head Auror Potter, when his mom was still stubbornly a member of Holy Head harpies, back when Lily wasn't born.
He would look back then, how fucking stupid his parents were. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to have two kids in a run-down apartment and two very demanding jobs.
But whatever, he's four years old, and he wants to be astronaut. He's twirling around corners, jumping on beds, and vandalizing the dry wall with his crayons. It has variations of stars and planets, big lumpy things, but it was his masterpiece. Everyone knows who Al Potter was. Harry Potter the second, Harry Potter the Miniature, Harry Potter reincarnate.
Yeah. He looked like his dad, so what?
He wasn't going to be head Auror anytime soon. He wasn't going to defeat some dark wizard. No, no, no thanks. He'd rather stay in his makeshift fort he built with James (back when he was still cool enough to be called his brother.)
It was a fucking awesome fort. His Aunt Luna had given celestial crystal ball. All he needed was a simple lumos and bam, a whole galaxy filled the room. He loved it.
("Hey, Alby."
"yeah, Jamie?"
"What do you call the moon, like, it has a name right?"
"Yeah, Luna, pretty clever of Auntie."
"Do you like the moon?"
"Yeah, it's pretty. It's around three hundred forty thousand miles away, though."
"Would you marry it?"
"Uhm, yeah, it'd be like…Luna Potter."
"Luna Potter."
"It sounds a bit…weird.")
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The first time Albus Potter met Scorpius Malfoy was on King's Cross, well not exactly, met, more like saw a blond blurb. The Malfoys weren't the most appreciated family, not like the Potters, or the Granger-Weasley's. Al knew he was famous, way before he was even born, and he hasn't quite liked it. In fact, he hated it with an unruly passion.
He blinked repeatedly as the flash of a camera momentarily blinded his vision, rubbing his eyes petulantly. Right, it was expected. Today was the day when The Boy Who Lived son went to Hogwarts. It was a major uproar. Sure, James had the very same treatment when he had started last year, but this was much more different. James was more of a cross between his parents. His hair bordered more on auburn rather than inky black, his skin a lighter tone than their fathers, and freckles were splattered in every visible body part. Unlike Al, he was the exact replica of the Chosen One. He had the same perpetually messy hair, the thin frame, dark skin, and the wide owlish green eyes. Luckily enough, the gods have spared him from the misfortune of his father's height. The Weasley family seemed to breed limbs.
Not only that. This was just a contributing factor. There was something much more interesting added into the mix. Apparently, Draco Malfoy, the youngest Death Eater known to the Wizarding World, also had his son starting his first year.
Which then points towards the nodding match between the two men. Al looked up as his father confusedly, not quite sure when he'd stop. It was embarrassing. He hovered behind his father as he looked at Draco Malfoy up and down, then once and twice, before he broke out into a strained smile.
"Malfoy," he said, cringing the way it sounded.
Draco looked unimpressed, "Potter."
"It's good to see you again." He said warily. He clamped a shoulder onto Al. He wasn't pleased.
Draco turned his head towards him, raising a thin eyebrow, "Well. Well. If it isn't Potter Junior. The resemblance is uncanny."
Al frowned at this, pouting slightly.
Harry chuckled, the tension slowly melting away. Al shifted his gaze onto his father in surprise. What? It took less than a minute for him to accept the pale man with dark circled and worry lines on his wide forehead. He was a death eater, too, Al's mind supplied.
"Where's your boy, Malfoy?" Harry asked, noticing the absence of the Malfoy spawn.
"Buying sweets with his mother," Draco said flatly, but Al could hear the fondness hidden underneath it.
Harry smiled wider; he had heard it too. He scratched his chin, where it was hidden with a layer of stubble. "Ah, Yes, Astoria, your wife. How is she?"
Draco looked stiff all of the sudden, his jaw clenching. He turned his head to the side, avoiding Harry's eyes. "She's fine."
They then exchanged a chatter of strained pleasantries; Al ignored them, for he had noticed the sound of squeaking wheels. He stared at the willowy woman sitting on it, eyes wide with mirth, and he thin and frail-looking hand was floating fluidly in the air. Al blinked, once and then twice. His first thought was that she was a ghost, secondly, anyone that thin was probably very sick.
"Astoria!" The sound of Draco's concerned voice snapped him from his thoughts. He watched with wide eyes as Draco walked quickly towards the frail woman, who smiled even brighter at the sight of him.
Draco crouched in front of her, checking everything, and she laughed as she swatted his hands from her, which sounded oddly like silver bells. "I'm fine, darling."
"Are you sure? Where is Scorpius? Is he fine?" He asked in one quick succession.
"Yes, he's fine." She said, "I was just sending him off."
Then the train let out a loud whistle, indicating that it was time for everyone to board. Al let out a huge breath, it was time, and to be honest, he wasn't quite ready to leave.
Harry noticed his son going very still, stood in front of him, patting his shoulder softly. "Are you alright?"
"What if I'm sorted into Slytherin?" Al blurted out. How could he forget this? James practically reminded him his whole life about that.
Harry smiled softly, and then he went off with his spiel about the origins of his name. Al wanted to roll his eyes. He knew where his names came from, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, two of the bravest men his father had known. It was a story that was told whenever his parents felt he had an inkling of insecurity. It drove Albus up into a wall. Sure he was proud that he was given such honorable albeit very old-fashioned names, but that was exactly the problem.
(Not the old-fashion bit, but he did think it looked quite stupid on some knobby-kneed kid with wild hair.)
The honor that was bestowed upon those two men was not something he could escape from. The weight of those names was crushing him. He gulped inwardly, The expectations are going to be excruciating.
When he mentioned that the Sorting Hat could take his choice into account, he felt the weight lift a bit. Thank Merlin for that, he thought.
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He trudged the corridors of the train with his cousin Rose. He was a bit happy for that, at least he wouldn't be totally alone.
She spoke in a business-like voice, but laced with a lot optimism, and confidence. A lot of confidence.
Al wasn't interested in what she was saying, something about Quidditch, and as much as he was good at the sport, he wasn't as fond of it as his relatives. It was kind of bordering onto obsessive.
Al opened the compartment door.
The first thing he noticed was the halo of blonde hair, glinting brightly against the light from the window. He then scanned the rest of the person, wide greys eyes that belonged to a startlingly pale face. He could see the blue spider web veins marking his eyelids and chubby cheeks. Perhaps, chubby was an understatement, Albus thought. The boy looked like a pig in a blonde wig.
"Hi," He started hesitatingly. There was an odd tension in the room.
"Hullo," The boy greeted back, and Al could hear the faint posh behind it. He wrinkled his nose at it. Great. A snobby fat kid.
"Is this compartment taken?" He asked flatly.
"It's free, just me." He said.
"Oh well, that's good." Al said, pursing his lips. He glanced at Rose, who looked mildly irritated as well. They both glanced at each other in a sort of understanding, sometimes, like some weird cousin-telepathy. "I'm Albus."
"Rose." Rose said shortly.
The boy smiled warmly, and Al felt his insides turn slightly. "Hi. Scorpius," then flushed, darting his eyes. "I mean, I'm Scorpius, and you're Albus."
"Yeah, we got it." Rose said snobbishly.
Scorpius held his smile, and said politely, "Rose, would you like some chocolate frogs?" He gestured towards the mountain of sweets next to him, and Al almost drooled at the sight of it.
Rose looked tempted, but held her ground, "No thanks. Just ate my breakfast."
"What about you, Albus?" He asked. "My mum told me to share. We bought a whole lot from the shop."
Then he took a second, and began to sing, "Sweets they always help you make friends!"
Al flushed pink in embarrassment. Oh Dumbledore, this kid was a work of art.
He did want the chocolate frog, and who was he to resist free candy? "Sure."
He felt a jab on his side, and turned to Rose. "What?"
"He's Scorpius Malfoy. Don't you see?" She hissed into his ear.
He turned towards the blonde boy, who smiled sadly. He picked a stray wrapper from his seat. "Well, yes, that's my name. You're Albus Potter and Rose Granger-Weasley…and Um, my parents are Astoria and Draco Malfoy, yes."
Rose scoffed, "Yeah, and they're Death Eaters!"
Al's eyes widened. He stared at the chubby boy who looked quite harmless, but as he stared longer, he noticed the resemblance of Draco Malfoy. His eyes flickered towards his wrist, which was covered with his sleeve.
Scorpius swallowed, and talked slowly, "Dad was," and licked his lips, "But mum wasn't. Never."
"Well, doesn't matter, both of them were Slytherins." Al winced when she spat out the last word. "Nasty, slimy lot."
Scorpius was affronted, and then he looked as if he were about to cry. No tears went down his corpulent cheeks, but they were tinged with red. "If you're just here to mock my family, then please leave.'
Rose huffed angily, muttering a 'finally', and then left.
Albus stood there awkwardly, shifting his feet. "Um, well, I guess I should go too."
Without a second glance, Al followed his cousin.
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The next time Al saw Scorpius was in his potions class, he grumbled into his seat. Hunching like a gargoyle. He was a bit irritated to say the least since he was sorted into Slytherin. It was a massive shock to all, even to his older brother, James, who was relentlessly teasing him all summer about it.
"I was just joking," he had said, looking away guiltily, "Never really, you know, meant it."
Al gave him a flat look.
"But hey, Slytherin has gained an excellent student," he said, trying to ease the growing moodiness of his little brother.
He snorted at the memory. He had gotten over it, mostly. He was a bit relieved that he wasn't in Gryffindor. The Slytherin common room was quite nice compared to the boisterous loudness emanating from the Gryffindor's. He adapted to some friends in Slytherin, and even in other houses. Even he had a small group, they usually hung out on the courtyard doing whatever.
Scorpius, no surprise, had ended up in Slytherin, much to his annoyance. The boy was so…pathetic. After the train ride, he had realized that Malfoy wasn't worth his time. Despite being in the same house and year, they barely interacted. Scorpius was placed in with the other first years from across the hall, and they were in different classes. Well, except now.
Al could hear his friend snicker from his left, covering it with his hand. He whispered lowly, Your fault for being late.
He glared at him, and hissed 'shut up'.
Scorpius, seemingly unaware from all this, continued to read from his book. Al glanced at the book, and wrinkled his nose. Advanced Rune Translation. Al didn't know what possessed the boy to even read it. They weren't taking it until, like, third year.
When the professor arrived, greeting the students with a bored tone. He then instructed the students to bring their homework. Al grabbed his bag, then patted for his parchment, which was missing. He groaned, I must have left it in the dorms. Again.
Al wanted kick himself. He was going to get detention for this, for sure. He was going to miss Quidditch practice. Damn it.
He placed his forehead onto the cool stone of the table, until he felt something poke his cheek. His eyes turned to his corner. There was his parchment, and familiar handwriting. He grabbed it, reading through it, and sighed in relief.
"Potter, finally did you work, huh?" The professor drawled, "That's good."
Albus was just about to say something snarky, until the professor glanced to his side, "Malfoy, where's your essay?"
"Uhm, I left it, professor." He said, avoiding his eyes.
The man sighed, rubbing his nose, "Malfoy, you're one of the brightest students I've had the pleasure to meet, and I found your essays a bit better than most. I must say I'm quite disappointed."
"I swear, Professor, I'll bring it in later." He said, puffing his cheeks which looked like it could swallow his face whole.
"I think it would be quite unfair for Albus," He said, and al squirmed in his seat, "that you would get a second chance. I don't play favorites."
"I apologize, professor."
Later that day, when Al flops onto his bed, sinking into his covers, he felt a something crumple underneath his weight. He patted around the mattress, then pulled it out. It was his Potions essay.
He should have felt guilt or remorse, or anything that made him bad, but instead he crumpled the parchment into a ball. Throwing it across the room in annoyance.
Scorpius Malfoy, he thought.
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After fourth year, Al and Scorpius interacted even less. The only time he saw the blonde boy was during breakfast and the occasional hallway run-in. Al just didn't like him, and Scorpius never made much of an effort to becoming friends with him. Or anybody. Al thinks he's probably traumatized the boy with the disaster of their first meeting, and he felt a tiny bit guilty. But Albus wasn't the only one who found the boy so unlikeable; a lot of other people did too. It usually involved children whose parents were victimized by Death Eaters, and the fact that Scorpius was so utterly defenseless.
He would not be made guilty for that one time, when he was out with his friends in Hogsmeade, and drinking too much butter beer. (and he would look back upon this day in disdain, a glass Firewhisky in his hand, feeling the familiar scorch slide down his throat.)
"Tch, would you look at that," Henry Longbottom said, point sluggishly towards Honeydukes, Scorpius emerged from the shop, walking hurriedly with a large bag filled with undoubtedly with sweets.
"Whuuu?" Al slurred, "Oh, yeah, he kinda looks like a little pig."
They all laughed.
"That's seems fitting," One boy said, Al couldn't remember him, but he had red hair and freckles, "Malfoy, just a bunch of greedy pigs."
Afterwards, Al didn't see much of Scorpius that day, or the rest of the week. He didn't feel anything at all, just glanced at the empty seat from across the table, he felt absolutely nothing when his friends started made snorting sounds.
"I bet they're doing some Death Eater ritual shite," one said, shaking his head.
"Hey, Y'know, I heard something about piggy from my parents…"
"Really, do tell."
When Scorpius returned, he was moved to the other dormitory where Al resided in. Al noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes, and he looked ghastly compared to his usual stark paleness. He was already annoyed that the boy occupied the bed next to his own, but was he daft? He was so fat, he took the entire space. Al couldn't move around him and get his stuff.
"Hey, Malfoy, could you step around?" He said, tapping his feet impatiently.
"O-oh, Sorry." He said under his breath, the left towards the bath. Al rolled his eyes, then to his trunk, grabbing his Quidditch gear. He was getting quite good, by next year, he could become captain. A thought that muses him greatly.
He glanced towards Scorpius's bed, and felt his stomach drop at the sight of it.
SPAWN OF VOLDEMORT was harshly embedded in every space of the dark trunk.
He gulped, and disregarded it. It was just a rumor. They pass all the time.
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By the time fifth year rolled around, Scorpius had lost all his weight. It was quite a shock for everyone, even Al. He had gotten used to seeing the giant lump on the bed next to his. Perhaps it was the sudden growth spurt that annihilated all the fat, he was no long the stout snobby fat kid. Though the teasing had stopped considerably, but another thing had picked for Scorpius. He wore large framed glassed that obscured his face. For the longest time, Al knew Scropius loved to read. Every time he saw him, he had a novel perched on his lap, and each time they were different. He had unconsciously listed them from his head, such as Moby Dick, Wuthering Heights, Hamlet, To Kill A Mockingbird…
They were the kind of books you read in muggle schools. He couldn't fathom how Scorpius would take such an interest over them. He was purest pure-blood in the whole school.
And to top it all off, every morning he leaves thirty minutes before everyone does just so he could read and walk to class at the same time. It pissed Al of beyond belief.
Sometimes, he would see other languages sprawled onto the covers like Russian, or French, german, even Japanese.
This was also the year when Scorpius learned to fight back.
(Apparently, he was pretty good at non-verbal spells.)
And it was pretty safe to assume that no one bothered him again…to his face anyway.
Despite all the sudden changes, Scorpius kept the stupid medieval hair. It grew down to his shoulders, curtaining his features. He had never bothered to tie it up, even when the rare times when the castle was unbearably hot. He also wore the same jumper, which was now baggy on his thin frame.
Al became Slytherin Quidditch captain. Much to everyone's utter surprise. With that, he had vowed to shape the team with an iron fist. He was placed in Slytherin for a reason after all. Damn right deserved it.
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Albus was startled by the sound of chairs scraping, dropping his quill in the process. As he bent down to retrieve, someone had beaten him to it.
"Here," said Scorpius Malfoy. "Your dropped it."
Al hesitatingly picked the pen with his fingers, "Thanks."
"Have a nice summer, Potter." He began to leave, beaming a large smile.
Al was speechless, but then soft smile came to rest in his face, "Yeah, you too, Malfoy."
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SCORBUS has invaded my life.
Anyways! hello, my first ever slash fic. This should be fun.
This was based on the manga HORIMIYA.