He was alright. He would be alright, as long as he remembered how to breathe. As long as he kept breathing, he would be perfectly fine. Because as long as he breathed, he wouldn't throw up. He felt like throwing up at the moment, because there were people laughing and pointing at him, he knew it. He'd been shaky that morning, and he'd tripped on the stairs. Of course people would laugh at him; of course they would- "Come on, up you get," a voice said gently, and Scorpius felt an arm loop around his own and try to pull him up. He came off the ground far too easily.

"Leave me al-"

"You're lying in the middle of a deserted staircase," the voice said in a dry tone. "I'd rather help you get to the hospital wing than anything else. What happened? Are you alright?"

He was shaking again, enough to get the other person to put an arm around his shoulders and hold him tightly. He was not a fan of the close contact, and finally allowed himself to open his eyes and look at who was near him. It was a Gryffindor girl, maybe in her fourth year, and she was sending him a friendly smile. "Get o-"

"My brother gets shaky too, sometimes," the girl says, ignoring him. "Then again, he has a disease that makes him shaky. I can never remember what it's called, though he doesn't mind. Do you have a disease too?"

"No, I-"

"Ah, well. Maybe you're just tired. I'm not sure, I should probably get you to the hospital wing anyway. I think that's probably the best idea, because the healers in there can help you feel better,"

She'd been pulling him along as she'd talked, though Scorpius finally yanked his arm away from her. "I'm fine you nosy Gryffindor. Leave me alone, okay? I don't need your help,"

"But you were just laying there. Really, I should get you to the hospital wing; they'll fix you up right away," The girl looked genuinely concerned, and Scorpius felt his heart drop into his stomach. Someone he didn't know was concerned about him-it had to be fake. The girl was probably teaming up with whoever had laughed at him when he'd fallen, and they wanted to trick him and spread it around Hogwarts.

"Mind your own business," Scorpius muttered, taking long strides to get away from the girl that had helped him up. She shouted something after him, but Scorpius' ears were ringing too much to understand what she'd said.

For a few minutes he just walked angrily, trying to get as far away from the Gryffindor as he could. Scorpius couldn't remember exactly where he'd been going when he fell down, but he didn't think it was anywhere important. They didn't have class that day; it was the first Saturday of the school year. The only important thing he had to do were patrols that night, which shouldn't be for another four hours. He checked his watch just to be sure, and was pleased when he saw that he did, in fact, have some time before he'd have to wander around the castle.

He should eat something, Scorpius knew that. He hadn't eaten very much lately and his stomach hurt, which he assumed was a bad thing. Then again, he could control his appearance. His scars proved that. If he didn't eat, he could control how thin he was, and Scorpius didn't think that would be half bad either. He had always been careful to stay thin, like his father. Now he'd just take it a step further.

It wasn't until he was halfway to the Slytherin common room that he remembered he'd been going to meet Arabella in the library. She probably wouldn't mind him missing the study session though. She'd probably found others to spend her Saturday with, and Scorpius wouldn't blame her for that. He wasn't exactly great company at the moment; he hadn't been great company for a while.

Scorpius found himself heading up the steps to his dormitory, climbing onto his four poster bed, and closing the curtains. He laid down then, one hand going under the collar of his shirt to feel the bumps of his various scars. The Gryffindor girl would probably tell all of her friends how pitiful he'd been laying on the floor in a ball. She'd tell them how she'd been a hero, and he'd begged for her forgiveness for making her be in his presence. She would tell them how ungrateful he'd been for her help, and she would tell them how hurt she'd been at his dismissal. He'd be a villain again, and people would glare at him and tell him how he should rot in Hell like they always did.

Scorpius' other free hand went under his pillow, seeking the blade he hid there. He didn't create any new scars yet, but he did carefully set the tip of the blade on his stomach. With one small push down, the red beads of blood would appear and he wouldn't worry about what the girl would say about him.

He resisted for a good two minutes, before he slowly pressed down and slid the blade to the left. There was a sharp twinge of pain, but relief flooded through him. What the girl would say didn't matter. He would be just fine. He slid the blade again, pressing a little harder. More blood pooled around the wound, and Scorpius let it sit there for a moment. Control, he realized, was one of the nicest things in the world.

Suddenly, though, he found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. He was tired; he'd barely slept four hours the previous night, and had gone running around the perimeter of the castle until breakfast. Surely that warranted him a nap? Hoping he'd wake up in time for his patrols, Scorpius closed his eyes and fought to get some rest.

He managed to get an hour before he jolted awake, a nightmare still playing before his eyes. His stomach stung when he sat up, and only then did he remember the two cuts he'd made to help himself feel better. With a quiet spell he cleaned up the blood and prevented it from bleeding anymore. And then, because he still had three hours until he had something to do, Scorpius found himself wandering to the grounds.

Usually he would avoid them until about mid-November. The students loved to sit on the grounds and study, or play ridiculous games that Scorpius had never even seen before. But for some reason, he found himself pulled outside. The sunshine did make him feel a little bit better.

He was wandering a bit too close to the Forbidden Forest when he felt a hand on his shoulder. There were fresh scars there too, but Scorpius just gritted his teeth and hoped he wouldn't cry out in pain. They were from that morning; they still hurt a great deal. When he turned around, he was looking into the tired, concerned eyes of his favorite professor.

"How are you doing, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Longbottom asked carefully. Scorpius had only had a few Herbology lessons so far that year, but he was ready for more. He just tended to get plants, even though his grandfather told him the talent was useless. His mother always told him he'd have to help her start a garden. They never had done that.

"I'm fine, thanks, Professor," Scorpius said politely. He didn't want the kind man to look at him for very long. Scorpius didn't look well, he knew, and most people didn't care enough to notice. Professor Longbottom was an exception.

Professor Longbottom was the only one who hadn't looked at his last name and scowled in first year. He was the person that had helped Scorpius up and scolded the person who'd tripped him when he was twelve. And as much as his father disliked the man, Scorpius adored him. Professor Longbottom made him feel special, and cared for. Which was precisely why he couldn't let his appearance be studied.

"It's a nice day," Professor Longbottom commented, walking alongside Scorpius. "I don't usually see you out on nice days. Is everything okay?" Scorpius' response was a simple nod that made the professor frown. "Somehow, I find myself incapable of believing you,"

"I...I'm sorry you feel that way, Professor," Scorpius said quietly, eyes trained on the ground. Unless his mind was deceiving him, a stain was starting to appear on his shirt. Right where he'd created new scars.

"I am too, Mr. Malfoy. I heard a rather interesting story from a Gryffindor girl not too long ago,"

He immediately turned red. "She was lying, about all of it. I'm-"

"Would you like to shame your side of the story, then?" Scorpius remained silent. "Scorpius," Professor Longbottom said gently, "What's wrong? You started under performing at the end of last year, and it doesn't seem to have gotten any better. You look pale; are you not feeling well? Is it...Is it your mother again?"

His face burned out of shame. All of Hogwarts knew what had happened to her, yet the only ones to care had been Professor Longbottom and, surprisingly, Albus Potter. His mother was a good woman-no, she was an amazing one. Two years ago she'd finally gotten her wish-a second pregnancy-but a curse intended for his father had landed her in the hospital, her hopes turned to dust. She'd been to St. Mungos no less than ten times in the past six months because she'd lost her balance and tripped down the stairs.

Professor Longbottom knew because Scorpius came running to him in a panic when he'd gotten the letter. Albus Potter knew because his own father had tracked down those responsible and made sure they were punished accordingly. It was one of the few times Albus Potter had spoken to him willingly, when his mother had first gotten injured. He'd come up and easily said that he hoped she would get better. Scorpius was fairly certain that Harry Potter had asked his son to do so, because he couldn't think of another reason why Albus would have approached him.

"She's fine," Scorpius said quietly. "She's…She's doing better. She hasn't been falling as often, and Dad...I mean he's always worried about her, but they're getting back to normal,"

Professor Longbottom offered Scorpius a small smile, but Scorpius didn't return it. "That's really good. I'm really happy for all of you. But...But if it's not your mother, what is it? You're one of my favorite students; I hate to see you like this,"

"It's nothing, Professor," Scorpius lied easily. His control felt like it was slipping away the longer he talked to Professor Longbottom. Which, he knew, would probably lead to him feeling out of control all night, and more scars. "I'm just...I've done so well for so long, and I'm tired. I'll try and get back to my usual standards, okay? I promise,"

His favorite professor didn't look pleased, but he didn't say anything to contradict Scorpius. Instead, he sighed and wished him a good day before heading back to the greenhouses. Scorpius felt a wave of relief hit him; he wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. And with that thought, he checked his watch and then ran off to meet his partner for patrols.


Albus stared at the letter in his hands, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest as he saw his father's handwriting. His father was a busy man, and he didn't always respond right away when Albus wrote him. But the simple sentence he'd scribbled on a piece of parchment, Dad I really need to talk to you; any chance you can make it to Hogsmeade this weekend?, seemed to have gotten his father's attention. Because the letter he received was instruction as to how to sneak out of the castle and meet at the Three Broomsticks.

Albus was out of his common room as quickly as he could leave. He wanted to see his dad, and hear his dad's advice about what to do about Isabella.

He'd seen a group of Ravenclaws teasing her mercilessly, when they'd separated for a few minutes on their patrols. He'd come back to find her trying to grab her wand, which a freakishly tall girl was holding high about poor Isabella's head. Albus had disarmed the girl and taken the wand back before holding it out for Isabella to grab. She had, and then had run off with burning cheeks to find her friends. Albus had been furious, and had shouted at the Ravenclaws, who then cowered. Some Hufflepuff he was.

They'd only been partners for a few days, but Albus had grown quite fond of the Slytherin girl. Yes, she was bubbly, and she talked a lot more than Thomas expected. But she was kind and considerate, and her own temper was almost non-existent. Albus thought she probably made a better Hufflepuff than he did, though he'd seen her typical Slytherin nature when she'd caught some boys picking on a first year. Her warm nature had disappeared, and the coldness that had seeped into her words had surprised him.

But he hadn't expected her to be bullied herself. He hadn't been expecting to see her huff and snatch her wand away from him before she ran off with red cheeks. He hadn't expected to hear the nasty comments of the girls as she did run off. He wanted to help her, despite their differences. And his father, he thought, would be the best person to talk to because his father had fought against this type of thing. His father was a hero; he wouldn't let a sixteen year old girl be hurt.

Sneaking out of the castle was far easier than Albus thought it should be. If it was this easy to leave, wouldn't it be just as easy for some unwanted person to get in? He chose to focus on something else, because the thought of someone getting into Hogwarts was a scary thought.

It took a bit of time, but finally Albus reached Hogsmeade. He hurried through the street with his head down, though some people did look at him funny. Albus got the looks more than he would have liked, but then again he was the 'spitting image' of his father, according to nearly every adult he spent time around. The only thing he wished was to look a bit more like a Weasley. The Weasley's had a hero status like his father, but people didn't pay them as much attention. And attention was one thing that Albus Potter thought he could do without.

He entered the Three Broomsticks and looked around nervously, hoping he wouldn't see any of his professors. He knew that a few of them came to Hogsmeade on weekends to see their families, Neville Longbottom especially, though he would probably understand why Albus had come. But instead of seeing them, he found his father sitting in the corner of the crowded pub and sipping a butterbeer. After a moment he looked up, as if he could sense Albus' gaze, and smiled.

Albus hurried over as his father stood. As soon as he reached him, his father pulled him in for a tight hug. "Hey, Dad," Albus said quietly, giving his father a squeeze before he pulled away. "Thanks for coming, I...I thought maybe you'd be too busy with work,"

"My family comes first, Albus, you know that. Or need I remind you of the time when James had a ballet recital?" he said with a grin. Albus snorted, knowing James would be furious if he knew they were talking about his short time as a dancer. In James' defense, he'd heard that knowing how to be a graceful dancer would help him be more graceful when he eventually played quidditch. He'd been eight, and he was an awful dancer. Still, not one of the other children on the stage had cared as much as James. And while he may have quit after that first recital, Albus had always admired his brother's courage for at least trying something new. He hadn't been shocked when James had been sorted into Gryffindor.

"I know; you gave away the case of the year to be able to go. James was so happy you were there,"

His dad smiled at him, and Albus grinned back. They each took a seat after Albus ordered a butterbeer of his own, and as they settled in, his father started to look a bit concerned. "I'm guessing you didn't want to meet up to reminisce about James' time as a ballerina?"

Albus sighed heavily, Isabella Goyle's hurt face flashing through his mind. "Do you know how the Malfoy's get death threats?"

His father raised an eyebrow, and nodded slowly. "Of course. I can't count the number of times an angry Draco Malfoy has walked into my department and demanded that Astoria and Scorpius have full time bodyguards. But why are you worried about that?"

"I'm...I'm not, not exactly. It's, well, you're not going to love this, but I got partnered with a girl for prefect patrols, and her dad, well, he was a Death Eater too, I think. Goyle, right?" Albus asked, noticing the subtle tensing of his father's face. "Well, um, Isabella, that's her name. She's...She's really nice, actually, and-don't make that face, Dad, she-"

"I thought Rose agreed not to put you with another bad partner?"

"Dad she's not a bad partner. She's nice, like I said, she's just...She's just a bit bubbly, I guess,"

"Bubbly? Are you sure she's a Goyle?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm-"

His dad leaned back in his chair slightly, managing a small smile. "Oh I'd love to see Goyle dealing with a bubbly daughter. I'd love to see him dealing with a daughter, for that matter. I know it's not fun; when Lily got her-"

"Dad! I don't need to hear that!"

He chuckled, and said, "Trust me, I felt the same way. When you have kids of your own-"

"Not sure that's going to happen," Albus interrupted.

"Why not?" his dad asked, looking a bit concerned. "I thought you wanted a family; you've always wanted a family. Did something change?"

Albus shrugged slightly, feeling his face grow warm. "I don't know. I just… I mean, kids my age, Dad, they've all had at least one girlfriend by now. And you and Mum knew each other, and so did uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, and uncle George and aunt Angelina, and Neville and Hannah, and-"

"Albus, we grew up in a war. Of course we were more eager to look for someone; we needed some light to make the dark more bearable. You're still young, though. You'll find someone,"

"I guess. I just...It's not going to be anyone in Hogwarts. I just...I don't like most of the girls, other than Rose and she's my cousin so I don't like her that way, I just-"

"You're rambling, Kiddo,"

"I know, sorry," Albus muttered. He sighed; he was definitely a solid red now.

"Why are you worried about Isabella Goyle? Has something happened to her?"

"The...The kids at school are teasing her. We split up for a while on a patrol and these Ravenclaws were playing keep-away with her wand. And I just...I haven't known her long but she really is nice, Dad. Sure she's a bit talkative, and her dad was on the wrong side of the war, but I don't think she deserves to be teased so much. And I...I need you to tell me what to do. I want to protect her; I'm a prefect and it's my job to protect the other students,"

"What about her friends? Aren't they doing anything?"

"See, the thing is, I'm...I'm not sure she has any friends. I looked for her at lunch yesterday and she was alone. She was alone at dinner too, and breakfast this morning,"

"So maybe you invite her to sit with you, or you go and sit with her. Just show her that someone cares, okay? And the teasing will get better. Whoever's doing it will grow up a little bit, and realize that Slytherins-I'm assuming that's her house-are people too. There's nothing wrong with them, and there's nothing wrong with the children of Death Eaters. But until they do, I'd recommend being her friend. And get Rose, Lily, and Hugo involved. The four of you are close; you could help her a lot,"

Albus knew he probably could have reached that conclusion by himself. Still, the fact that his father was willing to help him made Albus want to smile. He was lucky, to have the life he had.

A camera's flash changed his mood in a second. "Mr. Potter, why do your children get special privileges?" a voice asked.

There was another flash. "Mr. Potter, you're rarely photographed with your other two children. Any reason why Albus is your favorite?"

"Do you realize you're going to make him hated by his siblings?"

"Albus, how does it feel to be the only child your father loves?"

"I'm not," Albus said angrily, opening his mouth to say more. But his dad put a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook his head slowly. "Let's pay and get you back to school, yeah? I want to talk to Neville anyway,"

More cameras flashed as his dad threw a few galleons on the table. Those chasing stories followed the father and son as they hurried toward Hogwarts, shouting questions that made Albus' hands shake from anger. When they got to the gates of the school, Albus muttered a goodbye and ran off in the direction of the Black Lake. He hated getting ambushed by reporters. All he' wanted was a chance to talk to his father, and it had been ruined.

At least he had an idea of how to help Isabella Goyle.