Disclaimer: As previously stated, I'm not cool enough to write the Harry Potter series. But I'm cool enough to try and write this. Don't know if that changes anything.

Chapter Two

"The Birth of a Conquest"

Or

"Things People Shouldn't Have Seen/Done".

Fred Weasley enjoyed the first day of the return to Hogwarts. Granted, he usually had a prank planned, and since it was his seventh year, he was probably getting a little sentimental, but he still overlooked the Great Hall in all its splendor, and allowed a smile to form on his face.

Everyone had unpacked, and was bustling in to get seats before the first years were Sorted. Since so many of the Weasleys were Gryffindors, the speckled orange up and down the table made it easy for Fred to spot; James patted him on the back and they set off inside together, as they had for seven years.

Headmistress Sprout had gone from Professor to her current title when Minerva McGonagall passed away in the summer after Fred's third year, and so the stout ex-Herbology professor now sat in the huge chair in the centre of the teachers' table, watching her students file in.

She had taken a year or two off from teaching after Fred's first, and instead acted as Head of house for Hufflepuff and Deputy Headmistress until she was made the official one—a teary occasion for all, including Fred's mum and dad and aunts and uncles and grandparents and pretty much every adult in his life, because her coming symbolized McGonagall's death, and that was very painful for all of them.

'Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,' Sprout said loudly, her voice echoing out to the farthermost corners of the hall. 'I would just like to take a moment to say hello before the Sorting ceremony begins.'

There was a pause of utter quiet in the hall, before Sprout said rather comically, 'hello!' and muttered, 'now let's get on with it.'

The doors at the end of the hall opened and a set of rather small, scared-looking children entered the room behind Professor Longbottom. They walked up the aisle, and collected in a group at the front of the hall, where a stool had been placed, the Sorting Hat atop it. Professor Longbottom stepped up and explained, 'This,' he said, taking the Hat by its tip, 'is the Sorting Hat. It will place you into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. When your name is called, please come up here and sit down, after which the hat will make its selection.'

He called up 'Electris, Vincent', who became a Slytherin, then 'Gangley, Tally', a Ravenclaw 'Gilbert, Mitchell'—a name at which Fred felt James tense beside him, because this Mitchell kid could be none other than Cordelia Gilbert's brother. Which he certainly was.

They possessed the same light brown hair, large brown eyes—and when he reached the Ravenclaw table after being Sorted so, Cordelia gave him a one-armed squeeze.

From the rest of the Sorting, Gryffindor earned 'Higgins, Ed', 'Merebrook, Ingrid', 'Broker, Larry', and 'Cattermole, Verity', who all seemed rather tiny in Fred's eyes.

The food tasted just as brilliant as it had in precedent years, and left Fred with the same familiar feeling of eating too much of a good thing and needing to engorge his clothing size because of it. He and James planned how Quidditch tryouts would be run, who they would probably need—a discussion which Christopher Wood, a few places down, enthusiastically partook in, much to the discomfort of the fourth year girls sitting between them.

With the Sorting Ceremony long over, and the start-of-term feast at a close, Patricia let her mind wander. She usually completely lost track of time when she did this, because she thought of practically everything: her meal, what she thought of that red robe the Astronomy professor was wearing, how cold it would be if she were to swim in the Black Lake in December.

But this time she didn't spend much time pondering those particular facts or ideas. This time, she was wondering what could possibly be going on with Scorpius. Why he'd been unable to come and see her over the last few weeks, where he had been on the train and why he had come back with his tie done up better than it had been when he left her.

A horrible thought occurred to her. It was the kind of thought that sneaks up and makes sure you can feel your heart breaking, piece by piece.

What if Scorpius had been with a girl?

This was highly possible. There were countless girls at Hogwarts who would kill to be with him, and he could have picked any at random to go and fool around with. It seemed like a bit of a prick thing to do, and not very much like Scorpius, but here they were, sixteen, and she honestly couldn't blame him.

Or the girl. She definitely couldn't blame the girl.

As they left the Great Hall for their respective common rooms, Patricia realized that she envied the girl, if anything. Wait. She wasn't allowed to feel like this about Scorpius. They were best friends. Platonic relationship. Completely.

'You all right?' he asked her as they herded the first years into the common room. His words shook her from her daydream—even though it was technically nighttime.

'Just worried about the stress this year's going to cause—exams, preparing for N.E.W.T.s...you know?'

Scorpius nodded and then cracked a smile. 'Can't be that hard, though. I mean, if James Potter can manage to pass, I don't know why you're worried.'

Patricia laughed, leaning against the wall beside the dormitory door. 'That's mean.'

'But so incredibly true,' Scorpius added in what was clearly an impression of her voice. He feigned shock and disgust. 'Patricia!' He cried extravagantly, throwing the back of his right hand to his forehead. 'Why would you say such a horrible thing about St. Potter's son? His dad saved the wizard world! He got top of the class in Transfiguration! And Potions! Oh, yes, James Potter is positively delicious! God's gift to women!'

Patricia forced his hand from his head and said, 'Shut up; people are going to think you're off your rocker. Last thing we need is first-years under the impression you've got some kind of forbidden romance going on with James Potter.'

'That'd be the day,' said Scorpius. There was a pause, during which Scorpius seemed to notice the time, and he asked, 'So, are you going to bed or...?'

'I'm not sure,' said Patricia. 'Catching an early night might do me some good. But then again, Ruby's bound to keep me up with her incessant chattering. So I think I'll stay down here.'

'I didn't think you used the word "incessant", Patricia.'

'Cordelia must be rubbing off on me.'

Scorpius licked his thumb and scrubbed a place on her shoulder with it. 'Don't catch The Ravenclaw.'

Patricia grinned and pushed him away. All she could think about was the ridiculous possibility that Scorpius could have a girlfriend without him telling her. Would she be able to smell this other girl on him? That seemed ludicrous, creepy—incredibly so. And it wasn't like they were married, so she had no claim over him, anyway. All she was being was stupid.

'You chose Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures at the end of last term, yeah? And Muggle Studies?'

She could tell Scorpius was just saying that to make conversation. He had helped her pick. Of course, no one could be Scorpius sodding Malfoy, smart enough to take Arithmancy and learn about numbers and how things could be decoded from certain combinations and things that were entirely too boring for Patricia to think about.

'Yeah, but it's up to old Slughorn to decide if I can keep going with them.'

Scorpius sat down by the fire, lounging in an armchair, and said, 'It's a wonder that you've not dropped one of them yet, to be honest.'

'Well, I might have to,' said Patricia, 'if I got horrible marks. Besides, with N.E.W.T.s next year, we really can't afford to overwork ourselves.'

She looked over at Scorpius from the seat she herself had sunk into, and inspected his expression. He didn't look particularly different than he had at the end of fifth year, minus the growth of an inch or two and an even more defined jaw-line. But there definitely was something changed in him. Something he was keeping from her.

'What I don't understand,' said Scorpius, 'is why you're already training yourself for a mundane profession. You want to work in a shop in Diagon Alley—where's the adventure in that? Who are you helping, by doing that?'

'Hopefully, the people who need to buy something.'

Scorpius smirked. 'But then you're not dreaming at all...you know, you won't be young and okay with earning 30 Galleons a month—if that—forever. There'll come a time where you wish you'd made a more practical choice.'

Patricia glared at him. Why did he always have to be so "long-term plan", "practicality", "economy"? Couldn't he just accept that perhaps she wasn't like the Malfoys, that she'd be okay with not making a huge difference to the world, or living in lavish luxury? Some people had lives that made you want to read about them, and some people had to be there to help them along the way. She wasn't someone who intended to make a huge ripple.

'I'm sorry that not all of us can be Scorpius Malfoy,' she said.

'If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure I only got an E on the Arithmancy O.W.L.'

Patricia rolled her eyes. 'Like that's meant to make me feel any better.'

They were two of, perhaps, seven people in the common room. The gaggle of third years had retreated to their beds as the moon arrived in its proper place in the sky, and now it was Scorpius—who smelled vaguely of vanilla, but she pushed the thought away, perhaps it was just a new cologne—Patricia herself, Caladora Goyle and her prick of a boyfriend, and a few unnamed fourth year boys. Scorpius's eyes stayed on Caladora and the boy she was sitting with by the table at the back.

'We should probably go,' said Patricia. 'I don't want to have to watch them go at it.'

As if on cue, Caladora's arms wound around her boyfriend's neck and they embraced rather passionately. Scorpius looked like he was about to be sick. He nodded.

It was midnight and James sat alone in the seat by the window, soaking in the view from Gryffindor tower. In the moonlight, everything took on almost a milky appearance, and for once, the entirety of Hogwarts was calm. He could see Filch wandering across the grounds, and a tiny ball of shadows following behind him—the annoying feline creature known as Mrs. Norris. She'd spoiled the planning of many a prank by skulking about as she did.

But, James being James, his mind wasn't on things like the serenity of Hogwarts at night. It now resided on a mixture of classes and girls and Quidditch. Unfortunately, the combination of all three of those subjects in his mind led to one—Cordelia Gilbert.

He didn't know why he was thinking about her, because he hadn't really done so before. Beyond the occasional time in third year, when she was Will Bowen's friend, or in fifth year, when she rolled her eyes at him as he asked Shelley Corner out. He'd never really looked at her before, though.

She was sixteen now, and very tall. He'd seen her talking to people across the Great Hall and she always seemed to be passionate about something, almost embarrassingly so, but even then she carried herself in a lithe, willowy way. Was she pretty? He hadn't really thought about it before. She certainly wasn't average, but James had never really believed there was an "average" when looks were concerned.

Cordelia Gilbert was probably pretty, James decided. She wore Quidditch robes well, and that was a start. She challenged him on the pitch, which was a welcome change. She also didn't seem infatuated with him, which was certainly a welcome change. One titanic slice of difficulty James found with Cordelia Gilbert, though, was the fact he had absolutely no idea what to expect.

'How would you do it?'

Albus looked up from his cereal in confusion. 'Do what?'

James put a leg over the bench and sat beside his brother, turning to the side and leaning his left elbow on the table to face him. 'Catch a girl's eye.'

'Since when do you need help in that department, Mr. "James-Potter-Quidditch-Captain-Head-Boy-Dreamboat"?'

'Remind me not to put that on a business card,' said James, buttering himself some toast. 'But what if this girl wasn't like the others?'

'Oh? Going for a little substance this time, perhaps?'

'Try Cordelia Gilbert.'

Roxanne, who had been sitting about a foot from Albus, leaned over to be part of the conversation. She gave James an incredulous look and said, 'Ravenclaw Cordelia Gilbert? Quidditch one?'

'Yeah,' said James nonchalantly, taking a bite of his toast and sighing. 'Might be a bit of fun.'

Albus's spoon clanged against the cereal bowl. He looked up, his almond-shaped green eyes identical to his father's and boring into James's.

'If it's a bit of fun you're after, don't even think about that kind of thing with Cordelia,' he said rather seriously.

'Why would I—'

'I could list so many reasons why you'd be an idiot to,' Roxanne interrupted. 'But I honestly don't think you've got half a chance.'

James raised an eyebrow. 'Oh?'

'From the little I know, she'd prefer a proper relationship to shagging in broom closets.'

'Hey! I've made it pretty obvious, I don't shag anyone—I'll admit to being susceptible to spontaneous snogging, but I'm not a loose shag!'

'Snogging in broom closets, then,' said Roxanne. 'She's not into that.'

Fred smirked beside James. 'Looks like you're out of the running then, mate.'

James glared at him. Perhaps the word choice hadn't been the best. He hadn't meant "a bit of fun" as in something he'd put half his energy into, he just hadn't wanted to sound like he was falling, hard and fast. Which he wasn't. Because James Sirius Potter didn't fall in love – and he barely knew Cordelia Gilbert in the first place.

Love was emotional and messy, and someone always ended up hurt. He'd been fortunate enough that it had never been him. He was fond of his past relationships. He liked the fact that they were passionate and enthusiastic and he enjoyed them while they lasted. But they were never love. Both parties knew that.

The end of breakfast approached rather quickly and James headed off to Charms with Molly; Fred and Barbara hanging a bit behind.

'I can't believe you're going out with Archie Myers.'

Molly turned, a mix between wide-eyed and annoyed. 'Who told you?'

'Fred.'

She snorted. 'Shouldn't have asked.'

They passed a collection of Hufflepuff fifth-years who were curling their hair with the tips of their wands. One of them caught James's eye and smiled. It was the kind of smile James had grown to be wary of; the "I know your last name" smile. Dangerous, that.

'So, haven't gotten it on behind the Quidditch Pitch yet?'

'What happened to broom closets?' James smirked.

'Seemed a bit unoriginal.'

'No,' he said. 'I haven't.'

'Not snogged anyone?'

James shook his head, eyebrows raised. 'You underestimate me, Molls.'

Professor Flitwick hadn't changed over the past few months. He was still less than four feet tall, with wayward facial hair and pinched, almost pixie-like features.

'Hello, James!' he squeaked, 'hello, Molly! Tell me, how are your parents?'

'Mum and Dad are great, Professor,' James replied, setting his book on one of the tables and adding, 'Dad's quite busy. Auror Office and all.'

'Ah, yes. I get owls from your aunt Hermione every so often, filling me in on everything...'

September 2nd began too slowly for Albus's liking. Still, he found himself in first period Arithmancy with a rather bored-looking Scorpius Malfoy, his cousin Rose, and Cordelia Gilbert. There were a few others in the class, but no one that he spoke to had received a high enough mark to continue the class. Well, except for Rose.

He wasn't sure if he could count Cordelia, because they had worked together a few times and had spoken on occasion, and she wasn't bad. Now all he could think about was the fact that his brother probably wanted to shag her.

Deciding it was either the Ravenclaw or Rose—Scorpius was okay, but he didn't want to pretend they were friendlier than they were—Al took the seat beside Cordelia.

'You don't have another friend coming, do you?' he asked.

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. 'What makes you say that?'

'I don't know, I just would've thought that your brainy mates might've wanted to take Arithmancy again.'

'Au contraire. None of my "brainy mates" wanted to take Arithmancy in the first place.'

'What about Shelley Corner?'

Cordelia smiled. 'Shelley and I don't share much, beyond a dormitory.'

Albus shook his head. 'Suppose not.'

There wasn't much in common where Cordelia Gilbert and Shelley Corner were concerned. Shelley was armed with an arsenal of things boys were meant to find attractive: full, film-star lips, doe eyes and long, curly dark hair. And, of course—

'Didn't your brother go out with her?'

Albus laughed. 'I believe he did. Not sure if he's aware that your lot know…'

'Oh, trust me. Ravenclaw knows. You haven't heard the cat fights in the dormitories.'

Her tone didn't make him think that this was a good time to bring up the fact that James had asked about her at breakfast. 'So, I hear you're Quidditch captain.'

With a sigh: 'Yeah. I am.'

'Congrats.'

'James is probably over the moon.'

Yes, he is. 'Why?'

'I mean, it's not as though he thinks too highly of the competition. Between that Clarke bloke from Hufflepuff and Scorpius and I – he's probably decided this year's going to be an easy victory.'

At the mention of his name, Scorpius looked up for the briefest of seconds, as did Rose, who was seated behind them, to the right. Both looked down once they realized it was just a passing comment.

'You underestimate your ability,' Albus said. 'Or rather, you overestimate James's ego. He's actually not that bad.'

If there was one thing Al had never imagined himself being, it was wingman for his brother.

'I suppose not,' said Cordelia. 'He doesn't seem too bad. I mean, he must've been made Head Boy for something.'

Albus nodded.

'You know, something that isn't "Most Likely to be Mindlessly Fancied".'

Albus actually laughed at that, thinking about what he had said at breakfast. If it's a bit of fun you're after, don't even think about that kind of thing with Cordelia.

He could see the appeal, definitely. She was intelligent, funny, personable; the kind of girl that people should have thought about dating, but never seemed to. Her robes were adorned with a Prefect badge, just like his.

'Do you know what the schedule for patrols is?'

Realizing his sudden question was a little vague, Albus was about to clarify that he had, in fact, been talking about prefects, but Cordelia seemed to have understood.

'Yeah, um—wait a minute, I've got a copy somewhere.'

She went through a couple of books and pulled a paper out of the front of one. 'Here we are,' she said, running a finger down the timetable until she found his name, 'You're next week with... Andy.'

'The Hufflepuff?'

'Yeah.'

James and Fred had mentioned seeing her on their visits down to the kitchens. Apparently, she was a big fan of cakes. Not that she was fat—because she wasn't, he'd seen her around—but simply that all the house elves knew her by name and asked, 'oh, Miss Andy, cake again, Miss?'

'She's not bad, sort of funny,' said Cordelia reassuringly. 'I don't think James has snogged her,' she added jokingly.

'Is James and his relationship history just a running joke now?'

'Yes.'

'I'll be telling him that.'

Cordelia looked anxious all of a sudden. 'Oh, please don't—I've got watches with him this week! That'll mess everything up.'

Of course James had organized the schedule for he and Cordelia to patrol together. Was there anything his brother wouldn't do to get ahead? It took everything Albus said not to actually shake his head.

'I haven't got class until eleven.'

Scorpius had her against the wall of a deserted classroom, somewhere with a view of the Quidditch Pitch. In between kisses he said, 'I have Potions in half an hour.'

What would people think if they knew that Rose Weasley—perfect, straight-laced, probably-Head-Girl-next-year, daughter of the people who saved the wizard world Rose Weasley—was getting intimate with Scorpius Malfoy in empty classrooms and broom closets all over school? Oh, Merlin—what if her family were to find out? That would cause a bloody riot.

It always seemed to be Scorpius who had to leave first. On the train, they had only five minutes, and here—the first day of school—they had a bare thirty? It didn't seem fair at all. And it was all because of his schedule. Of course, she was just as packed, what with all her classes, and Arithmancy and how she had just wanted to walk over to run a hand through Scorpius's hair and pull his face to hers but then there had been classmates and Albus and Cordelia sodding Gilbert and that would have probably been deemed "inappropriate". Plus, they'd agreed to keep everything strictly under wraps.

'Someone's coming,' Rose said, pulling back about half an inch just so that Scorpius could hear her. She repositioned her blouse and crouched alongside her is-he-my-boyfriend-does-this-count behind a row of desks. He looked at her and mouthed, 'A Galleon it's someone related to you.'

She jabbed him with her elbow. Caladora Goyle's boyfriend had an arm around the waist of a girl—a girl who was most certainly not Caladora Goyle. Despite how foul he should have felt, how he shouldn't have been looking so extremely pleased with himself, how he really shouldn't have been with a girl who wasn't Caladora. Rose didn't even like the Slytherin girl that much, and yet she pitied her. Caladora's boyfriend was an oaf.

'Well, butter me up and call me a sodding sandwich!' Scorpius exclaimed softly. 'That's Shelley bloody Corner!'

It was true. The girl was wearing a Ravenclaw tie, and she had the exact same dark hair that made her recognizable. Rose gagged. This was the same Shelley Corner who had dated her cousin.

Thomas Prikk (for that was his name) pulled Shelley into the room, wearing such a lustful expression that it almost made Rose ill. Then again, she was playing about with Scorpius Malfoy, so she couldn't place judgment.

'I have Charms,' Shelley said, sounding annoyed. Prikk groaned. He pulled her in, giving her one, steaming, passionate kiss, but was met with a disgruntled pair of hands pushing against his chest. 'No – I need to go. Thomas.'

'What in the name of Merlin's lop-sided bloody left nipple is going on?' Scorpius whispered beside her.

'I have no idea!'

Shelley moved away from Prikk, who was panting. She righted her skirt and he straightened his collar. Sitting up on one of the desks, he pulled Shelley closer. They were six inches from each other.

'This has to stop,' she said firmly, looking up at him through her made-up eyelashes.

'Why? Isn't it fun?'

'How poetic,' whispered Scorpius.

'No, it isn't,' Shelley protested, moving away from Prikk. 'You have a girlfriend, and perhaps it's the complete lack of glamour that you possess – sorry, sweets, but it's true – I'm not really enjoying being a mistress.'

With that, Shelley left, and after a moment, Prikk followed. Rose and Scorpius sprung up from their hiding place. Rose sighed. 'I think we may have just found out about one of the biggest scandals to happen so far this year.'

'It's the first day of school,' said Scorpius.

'Guess they're starting early then.'

'I've got Potions in fifteen minutes.'

'Yes, I suppose you should go.'

He was at the door before he turned and said, 'Don't tell anyone about that, will you?'

'I'm not daft—if I tell them, then I'll have to mention you at some point, and then they'll ask why I was with you... we're not supposed to be too friendly, you and I.'

'I may be a bit of an idiot, Rose Weasley; but I know that much.'