I think some of my lovely reviewers (not to mention Brooke, my marvelous Beta) might have been confused about what spell exactly Albus was talking about.
It's nothing too technical, but I assume Albus heard the story about his father sparing Wormtail's life and having his spared in return, and mixed it up in his head with the "dying for the ones you love" spell, so that he could demand Scorpius become his friend. Whether or not Albus actually believes it's truly a spell is a toss up. But that's our puckish little Slytherin!
Also, I had just watched It's a Wonderful Life before the first chapter…
So here's chapter two! Don't forget to review! (I'm a poet and I know it)
As much as I would have hated to admit it at the time, hanging out with Albus was an insane amount of fun, especially with the horrified way people reacted to it. The sons of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, in fact the look-a-likes of the legendary enemies, meandering down the hall ways together, brushing shoulders and being civil. They whispered at us behind our back, the gossiping little twits. Every day I expected it to be splashed across the front of the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler, but it seemed that not even the newspapers were exactly sure what to do with us.
Most Slytherins still didn't speak to us, but the McNealy twins in Ravenclaw smiled in our general direction across the Great Hall. This was something Albus had not yet learned to appreciate, but for which my newly acquired libido was more than grateful. I wasn't exactly sure how threesomes worked, but I knew that twins were the best at it. (To this day I am still vaguely horrified by the fact that at eleven I was contemplating a threesome, although I'm sure Albus would say it's no surprise.)
The fact is that, aside from distant smiles, people still didn't actually socialize with us all that often. Strangely enough, when you have someone to share that with, it doesn't seem so bad. We were both good students, but instead of writing essays long into the night before crying myself to sleep, I now took part in "sleep-over" study sessions, kicked off by a short trip to the kitchens for sweets. Then we would scurry back to our dorm and into one or the other's bed. I still wonder if ol' Professor Bones ever noticed the chocolate stains on my Transfiguration essay, although they were pretty faint by the time I turned it in.
Albus told me all about his family, which was huge. I barely had any at all outside of my mother and father, but with the Potters, Weasleys, and Longbottom tacked on the end (not to mention the Scammanders and Thomas'), their numbers were way up in the double digits. He told me all about James, the Potter/Weasley pride child: Gryffindor, newly a chaser, fair grades, good-natured prankster, and his little sister, Lily, who was a bit whiny by what I gathered. He had lots of uncles (whose names I could not have repeated at the time, and so will not attempt to do so now), and with those came numerous cousins, though none as prominent in his life as Rose and Hugo. Hugo was soft-spoken, clever, funny, and possibly psychic. Rosie was smart but tough, and loved martial arts and books about adventurous women. Their father, he added, had told her to beat me at every test, and that it was okay to be friends, but not to marry me. This of course sparked a debate on the best way to expose Rosie's and my "love affair" to the Weasleys. Our roommates may or may not have been woken up that night by muffled laughter.
At any rate it would be another year and a half until we mastered the muffliato
spell, although this would be coupled with the mastery of quite a few others. Necessity, they say, is the mother of Invention, but did you know that Invention's brother was called Learning Beyond Your Grade Level? (I really must apologize for that, but I honestly cannot think of a better name.) Well, our rapidly acquired magical skill may not have been as dramatic as the Marauders, but if Albus had been a werewolf then by Merlin's pants I would have learned to turn into a dog, as I am sure he would have done the same for me.
We'd been friends, real friends, for all of three weeks when I got father's reply. It came by morning owl post, but we didn't have to leave our seats in the Great Hall for privacy. Apart, we had been as ignored as dingy wallpaper, but together it was like having some disgusting and contagious disease. More than not we had a good fourth of the Slytherin table to ourselves, with everyone else sitting closer than usually comfortable just to avoid us.
I untied the letter from Frances' foot, and with a piece of toast, sent her on her way. unrolling the parchment, I scooted closer to Albus so that he could read over my shoulder.
Dear Scorpius,
I met Harry Potter in Madam Malkin's about two months before the start of my first term. We didn't talk much, but I had no friends my father had not preordained for me, so hoped that he would be an ally if we met again at school. However, when we met on the train, he had already made friends with Weasley, and I had discovered who he really was. I tried to convince him that Weasley was not the kind of person he wanted to be involved with, and offering him my hand, insisted that I was a much better option.
How might life have been different had he shook my hand? I do not know. He and Weasley became as close as brothers, while Potter and I felt nothing but disdain from that moment on. We did everything we could to make life harder for each other, and in many respects, succeeded in doing so.
It is not that I think things might have been any different. My father was still who he was, and Potter was still The Boy Who Lived. But I hope that you can appreciate the delicate balance of fate, and what a single handshake could have meant to each and every wizard's life, including yours.
Scorpius, you are in Slytherin. If the Sorting Hat placed you there, it is where you belong. A Potter being in your house does not change that. Indeed, you must remember that he is probably having a bit of an identity crisis himself, and is doubtless not being very well met by his fellow Slytherins. Therefore, my advice is the same: make friends, create allies; your second family is your house.
Awaiting better news next time,
Dad
P.S. Getting very good grades, are you? Disappointment has two 'p's
I laughed at my father's post script, but Albus didn't. He was paranoid like that (still is actually), always looking out for little things he was sure were signs of my father abusing me. Let me tell you, my father and I may not share cuddle time like the Potters, but he is not abusive, or even neglectful. We do things together, and write each other constantly when the former is not possible. He's told me stories about what a douche his dad was, and so we both do our best to make our relationship a hell of a lot different. It takes work, but he's a good dad, really. And don't look at me like that, being a good father has nothing to do with being forced into being a Death Eater… I said don't look at me like that!
I would later find out that Dad had written and rewritten that letter, not knowing that I had been so close to suicide, and were it not for Albus I might have been unable to read anything ever again.
"It's almost like he's…like he's giving you his blessing…to be friends with me," Albus offered cautiously.
"But he'd have to know we were friends in the first place," I said, tucking the letter under my plate, "which he doesn't."
"Good point."
We didn't talk for a few minutes, just letting our thoughts and the sounds of the Great Hall wash over us. At least now I didn't have to worry about Dad freaking out over my newfound friendship, as long as I didn't mention how it was started. Albus, however, seemed even more worried. He had gradually begun screwing up his face more and more until he was all narrow eyes and bunching brows.
"Do you think…" I began, trying to reason why he was so upset.
"What?" He looked up at me quickly, fully alert and more intense than I had expected. I jumped a little and internally reprimanded myself for it.
"How do you think your dad will feel about…us?"
"Bloody well suspicious," he answered immediately, pretty much confirming that that's what he'd been thinking on so hard.
"Suspicious of what?"
"Of you. Of your dad. Of why your dad is so okay with everything." He turned towards me, his bright green eyes meeting mine, and we just sort of looked at each other for a while, still thinking really hard. It certainly occurred to me that Albus might be a little suspicious himself.
"Albus." The two of us turned to see James looming above. He frowned pointedly at me before turning to his little brother.
"Hagrid wants you for tea."
"Just me?"
"I have class." He gave me another hard look, and walked away.
"I don't think your brother likes me." I said, as if it were something new. Albus grinned wryly at me and rolled his eyes.
"I guess I should go grab Rosie." He thought aloud, squinting across the Great Hall in search of bushy, red hair.
Okay, I'm only going to say this once, but, seriously, poor Rosie and Hugo. Their father, Ron Weasley, has freckles, a big nose, gangly limbs, and shudder red hair. Their mother, Hermione Granger-Weasley, has bushy, dull brown hair, wide hips, and I have it on high authority that she used to have rather large front teeth. What were they thinking when they decided to procreate?! Rose and Hugh don't really have bad looks, but theirs aren't as, let's say, refined as Albus' and mine. As I said before, Al and I pretty much look identical to our fathers (with the exception of Albus' freckles, which I will harp on later).
Albus beckoned to his cousin as we left the Great Hall, and she (perhaps a bit begrudgingly) followed after us. We waited for her by the main doors, and she bounded towards us, all fluffy pigtails and wary brown eyes. She took a personal moment to glare at both of our Slytherin ties, and to straighten her own Gryffindor one, before asking in an annoyed tone: "Well? What is it?"
"Hagrid wants us over. Reckoned you'd want to come along." Albus said easily, pointedly ignoring the way she and I were glaring at each other. It was the classic Weasley/Malfoy rivalry over Potter. Weasley had won the last round, but this time around Malfoy was quickly pulling to the front of the pack.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
"Well, I suppose you're going to drag me along, Potter?" I smirked, thinking he'd reply with the negative.
Instead, his face brightened considerably and he grabbed the cuff of my sleeve.
"Of course, Scorpius!" he tugged on my sleeve happily, "This is your first test!"
"Test?"
"Yes," Rosie answered for him, "If Hagrid doesn't like you, you don't stand a chance with the rest of the family."
I glared at her, but the way Albus nodded at her, and then at me, I knew that at least he must think she was right. Dammit. He let go of my cuff, and I fought the urge to grab his instead. I liked having him close and connected. It made me feel like what we had was really real.
"What if I don't care?" I asked haughtily, feeling extremely torn. On the one hand, Albus was an awesome friend; one I would probably cherish the rest of my life. On the other hand, Slytherin or not, he came descended from a very long line of Gryffindors, who were all decidedly anti-Malfoy-ish people. So I could either stand by my pureblood principles, a dastardly mistake my forefathers had made (and a strangely Gryffindor ideal, if you think about it, standing by ones principles), or behave like a true Slytherin and do whatever it took to keep my best friend.
They were both staring at me looking rather unamused.
"Fine. I'll butter up the half-giant." I sighed dramatically.
Albus smiled triumphantly, but Rosie's mouth stayed unequivocally in a frown. Apparently, she didn't like me very much.
Heh.
--
Hagrid didn't try to hide his surprise when he opened the door to find a blonde head where there usually wasn't one.
"Wah's he doin' here?" He asked in an accent so booming and crude I felt he cold knock me over with words alone.
"Ask Albus," Rose told him snidely, "Malfoy's his friend."
"Waht?!"
"Er" Albus ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual, "It's a long story...Can we come in?"
Miraculously, after a long bewildered look at Potter, he lumbered aside and let us through. My first thought was about the irony of a giant living in the smallest house I'd ever seen. Rosie, Albus, and I alone would have been cramped in the tiny hut, but with Hagrid looming over us, blocking my view of most of the ceiling, it was downright ridiculous.
Four large beakers were taken down from hooks on the wall and set before us, and water from an enormous kettle was poured into an equally gigantic teapot. Hagrid pushed a tin full of lumpy biscuits towards each one of us, and once we'd all taken one he settle down and began to pour the tea. I knew there was no way it had steeped long enough, but I said nothing and attempted to take a bite out of the (I could only assume) chocolate cookie.
After nearly chipping my tooth, I glanced over at Albus who was exaggeratedly dunking a biscuit in his beaker. I mimicked him, and found that I could scrape off a layer of mush with my teeth if so inclined.
"So, yuh gunna tell meh wahts goin' on here?"
"It's just like Rosie said, Hagrid." Albus said with a soft smile, "Scorpius is my friend, and I wanted him to meet you."
All eyes seemed to turn to me. I gulped down my tea anxiously, not meeting Hgrid's eyes at all costs. I looked over to Rosie who was smirking slightly while nibbling her own chocolate rock cake.
"Nice to meet you." I said softly.
Hagrid's the best, ain't he? I was so terrified in the 7th book when I thought he'd died. And he was still around in the epilogue! So glad to know he didn't die of old age, like JKR has implied McGonagal did.
Okay, so, I may not update again for a while. I'm going off to unt and the computer is not coming with me. My flashdrive will, though, so I will try to write when I'm not studying my buns off!
So what are the thoughts? tell! tell! Chocolate Frogs for all!