Preview:
Scorpius thought about this. He had to admit that there weren't many holes in this logic. "But he's my father," he pointed out after a moment. "Isn't that my world too?"
"Thankfully that world doesn't exist anymore, unless we let it. You always have a choice, Scorpius."
Raindrops on Roses
Second Year Part 1
2018-2019
-*~S~*-
Scorpius wondered how so much could change in a year. He had never felt any particularly strong attachment to his family's house, but it had always been home, before. Now, as he sat in his bedroom staring gloomily out of the window, he realized he was feeling homesick for another home altogether. Hogwarts. He liked school. He missed his friends. There were things he didn't miss, like Herbology, and people stopping him in the corridors to mess with him, but these things seemed less important than ever. He flicked the pages of the book in his lap. It was Rose's Transfiguration textbook. It was noticeably much newer than his own books. He had an excuse lined up, however, in case either of his parents noticed. His own book had got damaged in a Potions accident, and he had borrowed this one from a friend for the holidays. Should they ask which friend, he would call on one of the other Ravenclaw boys, Gaius or Peter, or perhaps one of the Slytherins. As long as they didn't check the nameplate in the front, which bore Rose's name in her neat, curly handwriting, it'd be okay.
He put the book away and felt absent-mindedly for the bundle in his pocket. It was a letter he had written to Rose, Albus and Lizzie. It had been sitting folded up in his pocket for days. He was starting to think he was never going to get the chance to post it. Using the family's owl was out of the question, of course. He was waiting to be invited to a friend's house so that he could use their owls, but it seemed that his former friends were not that interested. They had all made new friends at Beauxbatons.
The only other option was Muggle post. There were multiple problems with this, however. Getting out of the house, for one. Finding a post office, for another. And perhaps the most serious problem, passing for a Muggle. He had no idea how any of it worked. He understood that a person would take his letter and somehow get it to Albus' house, but how they were going to cross the ocean without Floo or a broomstick was beyond him. And how could one man carry all the post that was going to England? Was there a team of them? And he would have to pay, which meant using Muggle money, which he didn't have. If it came to it, he didn't have any Wizarding money, either. He'd have to wait until September first, he supposed.
The next day, however, he got a surprise. He woke up to a snowy owl tapping softly on his bedroom window. He tore off his covers and hurried over, lifting the window and letting the owl inside. It held out a leg for him, and tied to it was a thick envelope. He untied it quickly and tore it open. The owl pecked at his hand. "Oh, okay," he said, reluctantly putting the letter down. "Hang on a second." He went to the door and opened it very quietly. It was early and his parents were, luckily, still asleep. He padded down the hall and down the stairs to the corner in the kitchen where Gergoire the owl lived. Scorpius put a hand into the box by his cage and drew out some owl treats. Gergoire hooted at him, and Scorpius shushed him before going back up the stairs as silently as he could. He gave the treats to the owl and opened his letter.
Hi Scorp, it read.
Hope you're having a good summer. We're having an okay time here. Yesterday we went to the Burrow and played Quidditch. Teddy was there and he told us a bit about his top-secret work with the Ministry (not so secret now, harhar). Also Hagrid came over last week and told us stories while he ate a whole week's worth of food! You'd think they didn't feed him up at the castle.
Lily is being annoying as usual, she keeps moaning that she still has to wait another year before she can start school. I offered to let her do my Potions essay. May need your help on that, by the way. I'd ask Rose but she would gloat.
Anyway see you on September 1st.
-A.
Ps. this is Womy, our owl. James named him when he was about five. You can use him to write back if you want.
Scorpius grinned and put the letter down. There was another sheet inside the envelope, and this one had Rose's handwriting.
Dear Scorpius
We thought it might be easier for you if we just sent one owl with both our letters. I hope you're okay and not spending all your time inside. Have you done all your homework? I got through mine pretty quickly. I've been reading some of mum's old second year books, and we're going to Diagon Alley soon to get all our school stuff.
Dad is trying to convince me to try out for Quidditch. I don't know. I like playing, but I think the pressure to win might be too high! Though since we're only second years we would probably only be reserves. Albus is thinking of trying out too. Will you? It might be fun to go together even if we don't get in.
Albus and I found some music we think you'll like, some showtunes and some more of that guitarist you like, Greigson. We promise to give you your iPod back as long as you don't spend the first week ignoring us while you listen to it.
See you on the train, hope you're well.
Rose.
Next to her name she had drawn a little sketch of a rose. Scorpius smiled. He folded both letters and put them in his pocket, swapping them for his own letter. They would be safe there, he thought. His mother sometimes searched his room for contraband like sweets and Muggle toys, ever since she had caught him playing with a light-up car leant to him by his friend Raoul. "You're lucky I found this," she had said to him, waving it in front of his face. "Your father would thrash you properly." As it was, she had slapped the back of his hand and taken the toy away. He didn't dare say where he had got it unless his mother forbid him from seeing Raoul anymore. But he didn't think she would search his clothes while he was wearing them.
He scribbled a quick PS on the letter before he tied it to the white owl's neck and stroked it gently. "You can stay for a bit," he told it, thinking it had probably been a long flight across the channel. "Just don't let my mum or dad catch you." Womy hooted at him, rubbed his beak against his fingers, and fluttered off out of the window. Scorpius sighed. It might have been nice to have some company for a bit.
-*~A~*-
Womy arrived in the kitchen the same morning as everyone's Hogwarts letters, which meant that Albus could open the letter and read it in relative peace while James moaned about all the extra books for his elective subjects, and Lily tried to read the booklist over his shoulder, and his parents Floo'd Aunt Hermione to confirm their trip to Diagon Alley that afternoon.
Dear Al, Rose and Lizzie
Hi guys, hope you're having fun summers. I am mostly bored! Done all my homework, read every book in the house, too! Considering sneaking out to a bookshop!
Not much else to tell except that Mother has got a 'job' keeping accounts for the Apothecary in the village. Papa was Not Pleased but even he has to admit that we could use the money. Mother is out a lot so I do not even have anyone to talk to. I tried to suggest that I could get a summer job too but Papa was in one of his Moods so I gave up. Maybe next year.
Papa was quite pleased with my exam results at least. (Luckily he doesn't care about Herbology! If he did care he would probably blame it on Professor Longbottom anyway - Lizzie I will not repeat some of the stuff he says about your Father teaching!) He is pleased that I am doing well in Potions because that was always his favourite subject but he wants me to do better in Charms, also Defence Against the Dark Arts. He asked if we had done any duelling yet and I said no but I told him what Professor Tufty said about first years handling fire power and he just gave me a Look.
Anyway enough about exams and about my father. Really looking forward to next year!
from Scorpius.
PS. thanks for your letters and letting me use your family's owl, Al please thank your mum and dad for me. Glad you're all having fun playing Quidditch! Rose I will think about the team but I only really started flying properly at Christmas! I will probably be terrible. -S.
"Is that from Scorpius?" Albus mother asked, leaning over to put some more bacon onto his plate whether he liked it or not.
"Yeah," Albus said, doing a quick re-read in case he had missed anything. "He says thanks for letting him use Womy."
"That's nice of him," said Ginny, casting a quick glance at Harry. Harry had not voiced much of an opinion over the friendship so far. He was a follower of the parenting strategy that let children make their own mistakes.
"I suppose his parents don't know that he's writing to you," he said now.
"Er… no," Albus admitted.
His parents exchanged another glance. "Secret letter writing," his father sighed. "Brings back some memories. You don't have to send him any food, do you?"
Albus blinked. "I don't think so," he said. "He says his mum's got a job so they've got a bit more money now."
"I was joking," Harry said, frowning. "Is it that bad? I didn't know."
"Well they're not going to come right out and tell everyone, are they?" Ginny pointed out. "Poor boy. I bet he can't wait to go back to school." She nudged Harry conspiratorially.
"All right, all right," he sighed. "I get it. I'll talk to Ron."
Albus began to understand, a little. They were talking about similarities between Harry and Scorpius. Both had grown up with very little, though for different reasons. Both had had to send letters in secret because of their family's disapproval. And both would rather be at Hogwarts than their childhood home.
"Can we stop at the Three Broomsticks for a bit on the way to Diagon Alley?" he asked his parents, waving the letter. "This is addressed to Lizzie as well."
"Of course we can, dear."
-*~R~*-
Rose felt very grown up, getting on the train as a second year. The first years all seemed so young, and uniformly terrified. It was strange to think that not so long ago she had been one of them.
She and Albus found a compartment with some other Ravenclaws, including Peter, Gaius and Janey from their year. They sat and chatted about their holidays until Scorpius finally showed up, his pale hair ruffled and face red from running.
"Nearly missed it!" he panted as the train began to leave the station. "Got stuck at customs. Next year I'm getting here a day early and grandmother can take me to the station."
Rose got up and gave him a hug while the others waved a greeting. "You made it, though," she reminded him.
"Oi Scorp, can I read your Potions essay?" Albus asked, grinning.
"Hello to you too," Scorpius replied, stowing his trunk.
They compared notes on homework and how much reading they had all done. Albus bought sweets from the trolley and shared them out, and Scorpius for once didn't even try to argue. He put a handful of fizzing whizzbees in his mouth and leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. "I think I missed sweets more than anything else," he said. "And Hogwarts food."
"More than you missed us?" Rose exclaimed in mock-horror.
"Maybe. You might be on an even footing with sweets."
"Oh good," Albus said. "Just where I always wanted to be." The others laughed.
"Oh, did you hear?" Rose said, remembering suddenly. "Hannah's going to have another baby."
"Who's Hannah?" asked Scorpius, non-plussed.
"You know, Lizzie's mum."
Scorpius stared at her. "Well how was I meant to have heard that? When did you find out?"
"When we went to Diagon Alley to get our school things. We stopped at the pub - you know they live there?"
Scorpius nodded. It had come up once or twice, but it probably meant little to him as he had never actually been to Diagon Alley.
"Anyway they're really pleased. Neville's always wanted a big family, but I guess when they didn't get any more after Lizzie they thought that was going to be it.''
"Well that's great," Scorpius said, because that seemed like the sort of thing one ought to say.
-*~S~*-
By the end of the first week, they had so much homework that Scorpius wondered why had ever wanted to come back. Even the Ravenclaws grumbled a little, and the other houses made no secret of their distaste. They had Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins, and after their third class, Jian made the mistake of putting his hand up to complain.
"Professor Tufty," he said in his imperious 'listen to me I'm always right' voice. "Perhaps you've forgotten that you have already set an essay this week, and a research project."
"Nevertheless, Mr Chung," Tufty said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I expect five inches of parchment on the effects of the disarming charm by next week. If you find this unacceptable there is always an empty seat in my first year class."
"Should've kept his mouth shut," Scorpius muttered to the others that evening as they scribbled their essays in the common room. "You don't mess with Tufty if you know what's good for you."
"Jian doesn't know what's good for him," Albus pointed out. He had got through his first draft quickly and was re-writing carefully so as not to smudge his ink.
Rose peeked over at his work. 'you're finished!" she said accusingly.
Albus shrugged. "Expelliarmus is like, my dad's favourite spell," he explained. "I could probably write ten inches without cracking a single book. Five is nothing. Jian's just making noise, the big whinger."
Scorpius was to find out the extent of Jian's animosity towards Professor Tufty a few days later, however. One of the textbooks for second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts was new on the reading list, so of course he didn't have one. He had managed so far by reading over Albus' shoulder, until Tufty had caught him at it. To his surprise, she had held him back after class instead of embarrassing him in front of everyone.
"Why don't you have the textbook, Mr Malfoy?" was her question, when they were alone.
Scorpius schooled his expression. He hated admitting that he didn't have the money for anything. he got that from his father, he knew.
"Well?"
"Can't afford it, Professor," he said, low.
Professor Tufty sat back in her chair and regarded him with steeley grey eyes. She was a mature lady, perhaps his grandmother's age,but she wore her salt and pepper hair cropped short. Everyone knew she had been an Auror during the war, and he could believe it. It was the way she looked at you as if you were a minor inconvenience which could be destroyed quite easily. "You're on a scholarship, aren't you?" she asked, not unkindly.
"Yes, Professor."
"Are you aware that there is a subsidiary program for scholarship students who cannot buy their own books and equipment?"
Scorpius stared at her. 'No, Professor."
"It's a recent endeavour, but it would have been included in your scholarship paperwork. You should ask your parents to apply." She returned his stare quite calmly. "Yes?" she prompted as if reading his mind.
"Um... it's just that... well, I don't think they will, Professor. Father doesn't like to ask for help from anyone, especially..." he trailed off, not wanting to say the words 'people from Hogwarts'.
"I see," said Tufty, maintaining her blank expression. "Well, do your best to persuade him. It will be difficult for you otherwise, especially next year in your elective subjects."
"Father says I just have to make do," Scorpius replied, doing his best to keep the misery out of his voice. "And I do - I've been sharing with Rose and Albus," he explained.
"Well, in this instance at least I think there may be a solution," Tufty said, apparently not interested in his explanation. "I have a few spare copies of all the curriculum texts in my office. Come when you have some spare time and we'll see if we can't lend you one."
Scorpius nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Professor!"
"You are welcome. Please remember what I said about the subsidiary program."
"I will." Scorpius didn't think he was ever likely to forget. This whole time there had been a way for him to have his own schoolbooks, and his father had just ignored it for the sake of his pride?
His pride, maybe, he thought bitterly as he left the office and hurried to his next class. What about my pride? Does he think I like losing marks when my essays are twenty years out of date? Does he expect me to just do the same subjects as mother to save on books? No wonder he doesn't want to admit we're poor. It's not like he's ever done a day's work in his life.
He didn't get a chance to fetch the book until lunchtime the following day. He made his way to Tufty's office, hoping she would be there. The door was closed, and he knocked. There was a startled noise from inside, but no one answered.
"Professor?" Scorpius called. He wondered if maybe she had fallen over. She was quite old, after all, and sometimes in the winter she walked with a stick. A war wound, was the popular rumour. Thinking he would just check to see if she was all right, he pushed open the door. the room appeared to be empty at first glance, until he realised there were people trying to hide behind the desk. Pretty unsuccessfully.
"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.
Four people got to their feet and glared at him. It was the second-year Slytherin boys. Jian took a step forward. "Run along, Malfoy," he commanded in his most imperious voice. "Keep your mouth shut and we'll forget you were ever here. Deal?"
"What are you doing?" Scorpius insisted, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.
One of the other Slytherins grinned meanly. "We're planting dungbombs in the old bird's office,"he explained.
"Shut up, Carcer," Jian snapped.
"Why?" asked Scorpius.
Jian sneered. It did not suit him at all. "Teach her to show me up in class."
Scorpius laughed shortly. "Ha. Well maybe if you didn't go around telling her how to run her lessons -"
Jian's olive-skinned face went dark with blood. He drew his wand. "Just go, okay?" he growled, his pre-adolescent voice cracking slightly.
Scorpius drew his own wand without even thinking and shouted "Expelliarmus!"
Jian's wand went flying, but Scorpius had forgotten that it was four against one. The other three didn't bother with their wands but grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him towards the opposite wall. He felt his ankle brush something that he realised later must have been a tripwire. His head hit the mantelpiece above the fireplace and he fell, momentarily dazed, as an acrid stench began to fill the air.
"Go! Go!" Jian yelled to the others, grabbing his wand from the floor as the four boys ran for it. the door slammed behind them.
Scorpius sat where he had fallen for a moment, holding his head. It felt dented, even if there didn't seem to be any blood. He tried not to breathe, but this just caused a coughing fit, so that he was gulping down mouthfuls of the vile, poisonous air. His eyes started to water and tears began to stream down his face as he crawled over to the door and tugged on the handle. It was locked.
"CHUNG!" he tried to shout. "CARCER! Let me out!" but his voice came out as a croak, and besides, he knew they would be long gone by now. He hammered on the door a few times before his body insisted that he concentrate on coughing. The air was grey with the foul gas - they must have dropped at least a dozen, and one was usually enough to render a small room unbreathable. He needed clean air.
Blinking his eyes furiously to try and clear the tears, he search the floor blindly for his wand. He felt his heart leap as his fingers closed around it, but what was the unlocking charm? His head was so thick and his vision was starting to swim. It was so hard to think and breathe at the same time. "Alo..." he tried, his lungs failing him before the third syllable. "Alo..." He started to panic, he couldn't breathe at all, it was like when you thought you might die laughing, just a lot less funny.
He could see bright spots in front of his eyes and his head pounded, the room was getting darker... was it the smoke turning black, or was he just dying?
"What in the -" there was another voice coming from somewhere, but he barely heard it over the sound of the roaring in his ears. Then someone had grabbed him under the arms and was dragging him to where there was - suddenly, blessedly - clean air to breathe.
He gulped it down gratefully while someone thumped him on the back until the coughs eventually subsided. He looked up through still-streaming eyes at Professor Tufty. "Good lad," she said. Those words sounded so strange coming from her mouth, and he was so relieved at being alive, that he started to laugh, but this only sent him off into another fit.
"Dungbombs, eh?" she said when this bout had also ceased. "An oldie but a goodie. I didn't think you were the pranking type, Mr Malfoy."
"It wasn't me!" Scorpius exclaimed.
"Who was it, then?"
He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again. As much as he'd like to see Jian and his mates in detention until Christmas, the fact was that he already had enough enemies. Dobbing was another one of those things that you just Did Not Do.
"Thought you might say that," said Professor Tufty flatly. "Was it the terrible Gryffindor trio? Seems like their M.O." Scorpius blinked in confusion, but she didn't seem to expect an answer. She pushed his hair aside and looked critically at his head. "You'll have a nasty bruise there, in my professional opinion. Get in a fight, did you?"
"Fell," Scorpius said. This was partially true - he had fallen, even if it was only after the fact.
"Of course you did."
"I did!"
"All right then." Tufty turned her face aside and coughed politely, and Scorpius realised that he must smell dreadful. He resisted the urge to sniff his sleeve, thinking he might throw up if he did. His robes would probably have to be burned, and it wasn't like he had loads of spares. "I think we'd better get you to the hospital wing. Not sure what kind of damage those things can do. Never had a near-death by Dungbomb before." Scorpius was just about functioning enough to recognise this as a joke. Perhaps he wasn't going to get in trouble after all.
So much for that theory, he thought later as he waited outside the Headmistress' office. Madam Pomfrey had, to his relief, confirmed that he wasn't going to die, but she did make him drink a sickly-sweet potion and forced him into a medicinal bath. He quite liked the bath, and at least it got rid of the stink that stuck to him like oil, but he insisted on being able to take it on his own. His head was still a bit sore, and there was an ugly purple bruise already starting to take shape, but the old nurse had ruled out a concussion. He thought she might heal it with magic, but she explained to him crossly that if she went around fixing every little bump, bruise and cut the students sustained, they would no longer have to watch where they were going.
"Come in," said McGonagall's voice from inside the office. Tufty had picked him up from the hospital wing and led him past the statue, up the staircase and left him there. He had never been inside the Headmistress' office before. He pushed the door open gingerly and closed it softly behind him. "Sit down," came the reedy voice again. He hurried forward and sat in one of the stiff armchairs that stood in front of McGonagall's desk. She looked down at him over the rims of her square spectacles. He was a bit nervous of McGonagall. She had never actually spoken to him directly, and he got the feeling that she didn't like him very much but was doing her best not to show it. He looked up at the pictures on the wall to avoid her gaze, and realised that there were dozens of other old faces looking down at him. He held back a shudder.
"My my, the very spit and image, as it were," said one of them, and a wrinkly old man with twinkly blue eyes.
"Yes, thank you Albus," sighed McGonagall, and Scorpius blinked in surprise. "And how are you feeling, Mr Malfoy?"
"Much better thanks, Professor," Scorpius replied politely, tearing his eyes away from the portraits, though he could feel their interested eyes on him.
"Good. Professor Tufty has explained to me what happened. Or at least, what she perceives to have happened. Perhaps you would care to elaborate?"
Scorpius took a deep breath. He had prepared for this while soaking in the bath and on the journey up to the office. "I went to get a book Professor Tufty said she could lend me," he explained. "She told me to come when I had free time - anyway I knocked and there was no answer, but I thought maybe she might have left it there for me, so I opened the door and went it but I tripped on something and I must have triggered all these dungbombs. I must have hit my head when I fell," he added.
"I see," said McGonagall. "And what is your explanation for why the door was looked behind you?"
Scorpius stayed silent. Damn. He'd known there was a hole in the story somewhere.
"Mr Malfoy, were this merely a matter of an unoriginal pranking," she said the word as if it were something slimy she would like to flush down the sink, "Professor Tufty and I might have been prepared to let the matter slide, however, this is a bit more serious. You might have suffocated. Who locked you in that room?"
Scorpius didn't say anything. He didn't like Jian, but the last thing he needed was to be branded a snitch. He had sort of been hoping that the Gryffindors might forget about him once he was in second year, and he didn't need the Slytherins taking their place as his designated tormentors.
McGonagall sighed. "Mr Malfoy, I feel I must tell you that I accepted you into this school under duress. To be frank, your predecessors have done nothing but wreak havoc and terror upon Hogwarts, and I did not wish to see that cycle repeated. I was persuaded however, that you deserved a chance." She glanced momentarily behind her at the wall of portraits. "I have not said anything to you before now because there has been no reason to do so. By all accounts you are a conscientious student, you interact perfectly acceptably with other students, and you do not go out of your way to cause trouble."
This seemed like a compliment, but somehow Scorpius couldn't be sure. "Thank you, Professor," he said. The news that she hadn't wanted him at Hogwarts in the first place was crushing. "Are you going to expel me?" he asked quickly, the words flooding to his lips almost as soon as the horrifying idea leapt into his brain.
McGonagall blinked. "Not yet, Mr Malfoy. However without further evidence I shall be forced to hold you responsible for today's incident -"
"Oh come now, Minerva." It was the blue-eyed man again. He was giving McGonagall a disapproving look.
"Albus, I thought we had agreed that since I am Headmistress of this School, and your advice is welcomed in private, you would not interrupt during student meetings," said McGonagall, her tone icy.
"It wasn't me, Professor!" Scorpius broke in. "I just went to get my book, and then the bombs went off, and I couldn't breathe, and I fell down - I honestly didn't see who locked the door on me." This was true, he realised triumphantly. He had been too dazed to even realise it was happening.
There was a knock on the door and Professor Tufty came in. "I've got something, Minerva," she said, a triumphant smile on her face.
McGonagall got to her feet. "Wait here, Mr Malfoy," she said. She shot a warning glance at the portraits before hurrying out of the room with Tufty on her heels.
Scopius sat, uncomfortably. Some of the portraits seemed to have lost interest and were doing other things. Some had even vacated their frames. But three were still staring at him - the blue-eyed man, a sallow-looking man with long, black hair, and a narrow-faced wizard in green and silver robes, with black hair, dark eyes, and a pointed beard.
"Well met, Mr Malfoy," said the blue-eyed one cheerfully. "I am Albus Dumbledore."
"I know," said Scorpius, a bit shyly. "One of my friends is named after you." And my father once tried to kill you, he added to himself. One of his father's favourite complaints was that he had come within seconds of killing Dumbledore until Snape jealously beat him to it.
"Ah, yes, young Albus Potter," Dumbledore smiled. "Harry does me a great honour, but then, he was always a very honourable young man. Don't you agree, Severus?"
The long-haired man scowled. "I never asked him to name anyone after me," he said sourly.
"I know you didn't, and I'm sure he wouldn't have if you had," replied Dumbledore jovially. "His great weakness was always reverse psychology."
Scorpius gasped. "You're Severus Snape!" he squeaked. Everyone knew about Severus Snape. He had been Headmaster of Hogwarts during the Year of Terror, and everyone had believed him to be Voldemort's right hand man, until he had revealed to Harry Potter that he had been a spy all along, and somehow - the details were not too clear on this point - helped him before his death in a way that allowed Potter to kill Voldemort once and for all. To some he was a great hero. Others never really believed that he had been on their side. And others -
"My father loathes you," he said, unable to stop himself.
Snape grimaced. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you," he replied. "I did what I could to help him, but evidently he was always an irredeemable coward."
Scorpius opened his mouth to argue - that was his father, after all - but found he had no evidence to present to the contrary. "Sorry," he said instead, meekly.
"Don't apologise, boy!" snapped the third man, the one with the pointy beard and ancient robes. "What have you got to apologise for?"
"Don't shout at the boy, Phineas," Dumbledore chided him.
"He's a Black, isn't he? Show some backbone, boy!"
"Mr Malfoy?"
Scorpius turned around in his chair. It was Professor Longbottom standing in the doorway. "Professor McGonagall sent me to take you to your common room."
"Oh." Scorpius stood up. "So I'm not expelled?"
"They found the ones who locked you in the office. It was the Slytherin boys from your year."
'Oh," said Scorpius again, remembering that he wasn't supposed to know this. "How did they find out?"
"They went back to their dormitory stinking to high heaven. We may be teachers, but we are not idiots." He smiled. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
"I'm supposed to be in History of Magic -"
"Professor Binns knows where you are, and I'm sure you can copy notes off your friends."
"Try not to let him 'fall' into anything else on the way, Longbottom," muttered Snape.
"I'll do my best, Professor," Lizzie's father called back as they left the office and he closed the door behind them. He shuddered dramatically. "That man still sends a chill up my spine," he said as they descended the staircase. "Don't tell anyone though," he added, with a wink.
"He is sort of scary, isn't he," Scorpius said sympathetically.
Professor Longbottom chuckled. "It's just a portrait," he said. "You mustn't take anything they say too personally. They might be intelligent, but they don't have brains. Their basic personalities are painted in. They can't change."
Scorpius nodded. "Dumbledore seems nice."
"He was."
They exited the gargoyle statue and made their way up to Ravenclaw Tower. Scorpius looked down at his shoes as they walked, feeling the emotions of the day begin to drain him of energy. "Sometimes I think everyone must hate my father," he sighed eventually.
Professor Longbottom looked at him. "A few people probably do," he admitted, democratically.
"Do you?"
The Professor paused for a moment, as if thinking about it. Scorpius was surprised. He hadn't really been expecting an answer; not an honest one, at any rate.
"Hate is a strong word," the man said eventually. "I suppose I feel sorry for him more than anything. Not that I don't have plenty of reasons to hate him, mind," he added, reluctantly. "Far apart from some of the more serious things he did, him and his mates picked on me a lot when we were kids, right up to seventh year - what they call the Year of Terror. I even got seriously injured a few times - a bit like you, today."
Scorpius looked up at him and saw, as if for the first time, the thin scar that ran down his teacher's cheek from eye to chin. "Why do you feel sorry for him, then?" he asked, feeling slightly ill again.
"Well..." again, Professor Longbottom seemed to consider his words carefully. "I suppose because he was born into and brought up in a world that didn't give him a choice, or a chance, to change. His parents, his family and all his friends were Voldemort supporters, and they all expected him to be the same. It would have taken more courage than he ever had to break out of it, if he even wanted to."
Scorpius thought about this. He had to admit that there weren't many holes in this logic. "But he's my father," he pointed out after a moment. "Isn't that my world too?"
"Thankfully that world doesn't exist anymore, unless we let it. You always have a choice, Scorpius."
They had reached the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. They stopped and regarded each other for an awkward moment. Then Professor Longbottom said, "We all thought you would be just like him, you know. Perhaps that was very unfair of us, but your friendship with Albus alone is enough to tell anyone how different you are. You mustn't be surprised when people assume he must have raised you into his own prejudices."
Scorpius shrugged. He could explain that one. "He mostly ignores me," he said. "I mean he's got a few speeches about how Muggles aren't really human and the importance of ancient family values, but they're not really convincing. I guess he was hoping it would just be genetic."
Professor Longbottom coughed into his hand, in a suspicious way that made Scorpius wonder if he was laughing.
"I don't want to be like him," Scorpius clarified. "I'm just not sure how I go about convincing everyone in the whole world that I'm not."
"You will," the Professor assured him. "Trust me. The more you stick with Albus and Rose, the more their inherent Weasleyness will rub off on you, and people will forget that they're supposed to resent you. Believe me."
Scorpius hesitated for a moment. "But... if that happens, my father will be the one who resents me," he said, not able to bring himself to meet the Professor's eyes.
"Well... perhaps. But like I said, you always have a choice." Professor Longbottom sighed, and bent slightly to be on Scorpius' eye level. "I know what its like to feel as if you can't talk to anyone," he said. "I know I'm not your Head of House, but I do have two children of my own, and... well. I hope you'll consider coming to me if you feel like you need a chat, or have questions, about schoolwork, or... anything else."
Scorpius felt a weight that he hadn't even realised was there lift off his shoulders. He smiled. "Thanks, Professor. I will."
"Good. Now you better get some rest, or Madam Pomfrey will be after me for keeping you up." He walked off down the corridor.
Scorpius turned to the staircase and was about to go up when he remembered something. "Professor?"
He turned. "Yes?"
"Um, congratulations on your... baby."
Professor Longbottom grinned widely. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy."
-*~R~*-
By the time Rose and Albus got back to Ravenclaw tower, everyone was talking about how the Slytherins had nearly killed Scorpius Malfoy by locking him in a room full of exploded dungbombs. "Do you think he's all right?" Rose asked Albus, chewing on her bottom lip, as they entered the common room.
"Has to be," Albus said, sounding a little too sure. "We'd know if he wasn't, wouldn't we?"
"Maybe we should go to the hospital wing," Rose suggested.
"Yeah, maybe. Let's check the dormitory, first." Rose knew that he meant he should check while she waited, but she followed him up, anyway, and he didn't dare argue the point.
Scorpius was lying fully clothed on his bed, fast asleep, with his iPod clutched in his hand and one earphone dangling out of his ear. Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "He's okay."
"Yeah if you don't count the brain tumour he's going to get from that thing," Albus said. "What?" he added at her look. "That's what my mum would say."
Rose leaned over and shook Scorpius' shoulder slightly. "Scorp?"
The boy stirred and his eyelids flickered. "Wher'm'I?"
""In your own bed, you plonker," said Albus, rolling his eyes. "Mate, that is one hell of a bruise you've got brewing."
Scorpius sat up and poked gingerly at his forehead. "I bruise badly," he sighed. "I suppose you want to know what happened?"
"Wouldn't mind."
He told them the story, and Rose felt herself get angrier and angrier. "Those... those..."
"Bastards?" Albus suggested.
"Yes!" Rose agreed, though of course she would never use that sort of Language, especially around her mother. "They outnumbered you four-to-one, and you were only trying to stop them doing something stupid in the first place!"
"Somehow I don't think they'll see it that way," Scorpius sighed. "Like I need more people holding a grudge."
"You didn't tell on them," said Albus.
"Yeah, but if I hadn't been there they wouldn't have got caught." He sighed again.
"Buck up," said Albus, nudging him. "Who's afraid of a few Slytherins anyway?"
"Precisely," Rose agreed. "We'll protect you."
Scorpius flushed. "I don't need protecting!"
"Uh huh," Albus agreed. "If you say so. Three against four's still better than one."
Scorpius had no argument to this. Rose felt her heart sink slightly at the defeated look on his face, and she gave him a hug. He returned it, just slightly, giving her a slight squeeze around the waist. "Thanks," he said, softly. "What did I miss in History of Magic, then?"
"What didn't you miss?" Albus laughed. "Only the most fascinating goblin war to be explained three times in a monotone with particular emphasis on each goblin's full name and exploits."
Scorpius frowned. "Wait, that reminds me. Do you have an extra brother I don't know about?"
"Er, why?"
"Oh, just something Snape's portrait said about your dad naming someone after him."
Rose giggled. Albus made a face at her. "Yeah, that's still me," he said. "You'd think out of the three of us Dad would have come up with at least one original name."
"Albus Severus Potter?"
"Well don't go shouting it around, but yeah."
Scorpius snorted. "And I thought I lucked out with Scorpius Hyperion."
Rose rolled her eyes. "Okay, you both have beautiful names. Now can we go get some dinner? I'm famished."
