"You know something, Potter," I said in my best noncommittal voice, "you have a knack for insulting my intelligence."
"It's not hard." Albus replied, without missing a beat.
My jaw dropped open slightly and Albus giggled into his pumpkin juice. We were sitting at breakfast, off in our own little portion of the Slytherin table as usual. Or so I thought. As it was, I had just enough time to consider the very un-Malfoy-esque way my mouth was hanging open before John was sitting across from us.
"So are you two, like...a couple?" he asked tactlessly. I ignored him.
"See here, Potter." I did my best to keep my voice superior, which wasn't hard, "What you said this morning was complete poppycock. As if I'd ever mistake a life-debt for some sort of...improper..."
"So...is that a...no...?" John asked.
"Well, you managed to become my friend without much forethought." Albus pointed out, ignoring John just as pointedly as I was.
"I was shocked." I excused, "Upon further reflection..."
"Oh, can it." He smiled sincerely at me, "We both made our choices based on half-truths. Here we are together, and it's fantastic, right?"
"So, that's a yes?" John varied his question for a third time.
I recovered from the "can it" line long enough to appreciate that our friendship maybe—perhaps, sort of—was one of those permanent and wonderful things. Then I finally acknowledged John's annoying persistence.
"How about you fill your mouth with food, rather than stupid questions, Simmons." I snapped.
"My parents are both blokes," he stated bluntly, "So I won't judge."
"So you're a poufter too, then, is that what you're saying?" Albus asked, just as annoyed by this boy's very un-Slytherin ways.
"No!" John insisted, swallowing rather hard, "It's just that, if you two were, I wouldn't mind...being friends. I mean...if that's why everyone is avoiding you two, because you're gay, well...It's not right."
"What are you on about?" I asked, completely taken aback.
"Can he really not know?" Albus asked me, as if John were not sitting there.
"Know what?" he asked.
"He has to know." I reasoned, "Everybody who's anybody knows."
"And the nobodies, too, for that matter."
"Know what?!" John exclaimed. Both Albus and I turned hard stares to John's face, trying to reason his capability to lie. You never could know in Slytherin. Maybe he was being intentionally dense in order to pull one over on us later. Give a few laughs to our fellow dorm mates, Alcander and Richard.
"You really don't know?" Albus asked him suspiciously.
"Know what?!" John cried, more than a little annoyed.
"Who our fathers are," I offered up, and Albus nodded to show that was, indeed, what he'd meant.
"Well, your father's Harry Potter," he pointed to Albus and, then turning to me, he said, "Isn't your father some wealthy business man or some such thing?"
"My father is Draco Malfoy," I stated, abashed.
"Wait a second, Scorpius." Albus held up his hand to me, and considered John quietly for a few moments. "You wouldn't happen to be muggle-born, would you, Simmons?"
"Uh, not strictly speaking, no." He drilled his fingers on the table a little while we waited for him to continue, "Both my dads are muggles, but I was adopted. All I know for sure is that my mother and father were both pureblooded, and that they were in the war, but I'm not sure on which side, or even what their names were. They didn't want me, you see."
"I can't imagine any pureblooded family not wanting a son." I admonished, "Surely there's some mistake."
"Unless..." He surveyed Jonathan coolly, "You won't spaz out if I say this, will you?"
"Doubt it." He shrugged, "I mean, if it's about my parents, I never knew them, so..."
"What are you thinking?" I asked him, curious.
"Just that, like you said, no pureblooded family would give up their only son, unless there were extenuating circumstances."
"Such as...?"
"Prison," Albus said flatly, watching John carefully as he continued to speak, "If your mother was in Azkaban, and somehow found herself pregnant, they wouldn't let her raise the baby in a cell, would they?"
John seemed to consider this for a moment.
"Wait!" my eyes widened a bit stupidly, "His mum could be Bellatrix LeStrange?"
"Time to brush up on your family history, Scorpy." Albus teased, "Grandma Weasley killed that bitch aunt of yours."
We both laughed, even though we knew we shouldn't.
"Do you mean…" John was staring at us, eyes as wide as a cliché, "that your grandmother"—he gestured to Albus—"killed your"—he gestured to me—"aunt? In the war?"
"You seriously didn't know?" I asked, just to make things ridiculously clear.
"The thing is," Albus explained much more patiently than anticipated—much to my chagrin; this guy was cutting into my Albus time. "Both our dads were enemies in school. Opposite sides of the war..."
"Not because my dad wanted to be," I added. "His dad pressured him into it."
Albus nodded, allowing acquiesces to this.
("I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Means no." Anybody? Anybody? Come on! I cannot be the only pureblood wizard who enjoys muggle cinema!
Says Albus: I wouldn't be too sure about that.)
"So our families don't get along." Albus concluded, "At All."
"Not to mention that this one," I jerked my thumb in the green-eyed-wonder's general direction, "comes from a long line of Gryffindors, and managed to get himself quite neatly placed in Slytherin."
"And this one," he gestured to me in the same way I had to him, "comes from a long line of Slytherins who managed to get themselves neatly placed in Azkaban."
"So there's bad mojo all around." Johnny reasoned.
Albus and I looked at each other, shrugged in unison, then turned back to him and both nodded.
---
Johnny Simmons was the gap in-between the extremes of Albus and I. Black/brown/blonde. Green/hazel/blue. Two siblings/one sibling/none.
Where Albus had a knack at playing any sweet little role that got him what he wanted, Johnny had jokes to cover his shyness, and I was a sourpuss.
That is until Albus mussed my hair and told me to lighten up, or Johnny put his arm around my shoulders and whispered a dirty word in my ear. ("Hey Malfoy" "Sod off!" "No, no, no! commere! ...bollocks... *laughter*")
It was, however, mildly problematic for Rosie, who found herself thrust into a friendship with yet another Slytherin, one with a knack for dirty jokes and no sense of personal space. He would tug on her hair, straighten her clothes, and mime groping her. Many an afternoon was topped off by a pained cry from Rosie:
"Merlin! Why do I hang out with guys?!"
Another thing that Johnny brought to our little wolf pack was music. He owned an acoustic guitar, which he could not play, but from which he would retrieve numerous folksy muggle songs. When the songs were more energetic, he would chime into air-guitar rifts that would put any wannabe rock star to shame. He was pretty lame, even for an eleven year old, but I knew what I was asking Santa Clause for that year.
Music became something we had to have every moment of every day that we could manage it. Johnny's favorites were techno beats and the kind of hard rock that is near grating to any but those who absolutely love it. Rosie liked rock-and-roll, and hip-hop; anything she could dance to—or that contained a hyphen, apparently—shaking her hips and raising her arms over her head in a way that might have been provocative, had she had breasts at the time. Albus liked interesting mixes and sounds that "felt good in his mouth", lyrics and such.
As for me, I am almost ashamed to say, I was well into emo, alternative rock. My favorite song on the radio at the time was entitled "Looking4Trouble" from the album "Tales From a Broken Wand". Were I to meet my past self today I think I would slap him right across the face for the idiocy of it, but I was only eleven and pop music didn't satisfy my pallet for long.
Life seemed to finally be falling into place for all four of us; the Gryffindor girl who hung with Slytherins, the muggle-born (or, at least, muggle-raised), the son of a traitor, and the son of a savior. We sat out by the lake, underneath our favorite tree, listening to Albus' wireless he'd barely touched before, playing games or simply chatting. It was one of those simple moments you remember for the rest of your life. Nothing groundbreaking, new or different, just you and your friends enjoying the day. A time of such pristine happiness you don't notice until later how happy you truly were. The kind of happiness than can never really last for long.
The four of us were walking back from double-potions one afternoon, heading back to our usual spot under our tree, when Albus' name rang through the hall. We all turned to find James standing next to an empty classroom gesturing that his younger brother should go inside.
"What do you want?" Albus called over the eight or so yards to where his brother stood.
"I need to talk to you," His eyes scanned the three of us disapprovingly, "alone."
Albus rolled his eyes and turned pointedly on his heel, so I did the same. Johnny and Rosie followed on either side of us, and I was a little proud to see Rose toss her hair in a distinctively snobbish way.
"It's about Dad." James said evenly, causing Albus to stop in his tracks.
"Not without me." I said instantly.
Albus turned to look at me, his face strangely soft.
"Of course not."
The two of us turned back around, motioning that the others should go on without us.
"Fine, it includes you anyhow," James all but spat.
"You've already done your little speech, Jimmy." Albus gave him a wry smile, "I have no intention of sitting through another one. Yes, I know Father probably won't like that I'm friends with Draco Malfoy's son, but frankly, I don't care."
"Dad doesn't know." James said suddenly, voice almost cutting his little brother off, "I haven't told him, and no one else has either, apparently. He doesn't know, but you're going to have to tell him. Or I will."
I turned my surprised expression to gaze at Albus who was standing perfectly still. His eyes stared straight into his brother's, face frozen in the dismissive expression he'd begun a few moments ago. His hands were not slack at his sides, but not tense, just still. I watched my best friend hide what he was feeling and realized that I might be the only one who knew what that stillness meant. I stepped outside myself and noted that to the rest of the word he looked relaxed, bored, disinterested. Only someone who spent their nights in his bed, and every waking hour by his side would notice the raging turmoil that stillness represented.
"Fine," Albus stated suddenly, and it was like watching a statue come back to life, "I'll let him know, but in person. Christmas break is coming up and I want to see Scorpius for at least some of it. Might as well tell him then."
"I'll tell my father as well." The words sounded like me, posh, superior, but I had no idea where they'd come from. Albus gave me a funny look and I shrugged, "We'll face the wrath together."
Then Albus smiled. A bright, shiny, glorious, beautiful smile that left me smiling too, before I even knew why. It was because I'd done something then. Without realizing it, I'd proved myself as a friend. James looked shocked at my proclamation. I realized that not only had I volunteered to face the wrath of maybe the two most formidable wizards today with Albus, but I'd also helped him win a silent battle with his brother. I'd proved Albus' trust in me to be worthy, and shown James' prejudice for just that: an unfair judgment.
Still smiling, the two of us turned away from dumbstruck James, and headed towards where we knew Johnny and Rose would be waiting.
---
What can I say about classes that anyone who has ever gone to Hogwarts won't know already? And how could I possibly explain it to someone who's never been at all? I'll put it to you this way, aside from the general madness that is Hogwarts, the schoolwork is just that: work. Most first-years either get caught in the wonderment of it all, and enjoy every minute of their homework just for the simple fact that they're learning magic—muggleborns, usually—or they just about drown in their assignments, alternating in-between frantically attempting to do too much at once and saying "screw it" and shirking the lot.
As fond as I was of cussing when I was eleven, Albus and I were of that mysterious third category known by the bitter as "those assholes that don't do shit and still get good grades" and by the older students as "the first years who actually study." I've already talked about our late-night study sessions, but it went beyond that. We became an unstoppable studying team, our depression-fueled study habits during the first couple of months jumpstarting our academia until classes were a breeze. Our easy friendship meant that we could sit for hours, alone through no effort on our part, in some corner of the commons, and simply read for hours.
Johnny rarely joined us for these pleasantly confrontation-less hours. He was of the first subset, being raised by muggle parents. In fact, he'd read most of his books on the train ride to Hogwarts, and preferred his study to be of a practical nature, practicing spells whenever he could. Quiet wasn't something he understood, but he was also a Slytherin and knew when to shut up or go away.
The night before the Hogwarts Express was due to pull back up to the castle station was just one such time. Most of our housemates were frantically trying to find their things for last minute packing, where as Albus and I had secured our trunks that morning. We'd been sitting, reading our winter break homework instructions over and over and making notes in margins of our books. Boredom studying, Albus called it. Easy, yet time consuming; the extra effort most people neglect because they have better things to do. Albus and I rarely had better things to do.
"Does it echo in your house?" Albus asked suddenly, looking up at me.
"In some places." I tilted my head and kept my eyes on him, not asking why, but silently offering for him to explain.
"I just wondered." Albus said softly. "I've never seen any pictures, but I've heard stories, and I know your family is incredibly wealthy. I assume it is very large."
"Well, it's not Hogwarts, but the Quidditch pitch could probably fit inside it." I grimaced, without really knowing why. It wasn't wrong to state one's wealth, especially considering Albus' family was far from destitute themselves. Yet somehow, bragging felt wrong with Albus. It felt pointless because he simply did not care, judging value on a different spectrum entirely. I'd like to say that Albus ranked people by intelligence, but that's only one of many traits he valued, most of which he kept close to his chest. The silent judge—that was Potter.
"Actually," I continued, when Albus' eyes did not go back to his work, "The ballroom echoes really well. When I was little, I used to yell as loud and as fast as I could to see if I could get all my words to echo back at me at the same time."
"Your parents must have enjoyed the racket." Albus grinned at me, attentive to my story.
"It didn't bother them. Their rooms are far enough away," I explained, "And I had to yell -- there's a spell that muffles the natural echo of the room so parties won't rattle the walls."
"My dad hates parties." Albus rubbed his nose and turned back to his work.
"The next time we have one I'll invite you!" I heard the eager, childish chirp in my voice, but it was too late. I waited for the disdain of my un-Slytherin-like behavior, but instead I got another one of those disarming smiles.
"Really?! You think your dad would let me?"
"If your dad would."
Ladies and Gentlemen: I did it! Another chapter finished, and isn't it grand?
So here's the dealio, fyi. I thought summer would mean updates, but my parent's house doesn't have Internet. _ Luckily, I've been kicked out of dear Mama's home, and am now living with my aunt. I'm still not making huge promises, seeing as I need to get a job and whatnot, but I now have interwebs and time on my hands, so let's hope for the best!
Please leave me a review!
Hugs and Kisses,
Flo
