{{Just in case nobody had sussed - parental scenes are my fave things ever.}}


"Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go-"

The student to the right of Albus was crying. Every other student appeared to be screaming. Albus was staring at the pitch, an expression of comical bemusement on his face. Hugo was crying and screaming and cursing his sister. Every single Gryffindor student was on their feet, and that chant. It was torn from their chests, it was a manic cheer, it was a miracle. Albus looked out over the pitch and noted Scorpius doing nothing but idle by the posts that he had guarded so ferociously. As he watched, the two teams seemed to recover from the sudden end to the game, gathered their wits, and flew for the ground.

"Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor!"

The parent to the right of Ronald Weasley was crying. If the redhead hadn't been so caught up in cheering for his bloody brilliant – did you fucking see that, 'Mione?! We parented that! – daughter, he might have patted them on the back. Not sure whose parent it was. Maybe it wasn't? Maybe it was just someone who had heard that his bloody fantastic daughter was going to play a bloody Holyhead formation and had decided to pop along.

"Ronald!"

"Go on, you legends! Go on- Yes, love?"

"Be nice."

"Why? Wha- Oh. Alright, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy wore a black coat, collar pulled up high, but it did little to disguise the red and yellow colours of a Gryffindor scarf that peeped through from underneath. It endeared Ron towards him, just slightly. Not even that much. A smidgeon.

"Quite the match, wouldn't you say?"

"I bloody would. A Holyhead formation. That teamwork. They must have been at that for months – did you know anything?" Ron wasn't sure why he asked. He didn't care what Malfoy knew and didn't know. He put it down to the quidditch, to the adrenaline pumping through his system. "How's, um, Scorpius doing? Flew well today. Flew pretty buggeringly brilliant, fairplay." Ron could feel Hermione's surprise, emanating from where she had warningly linked their arms. He could be nice! He could be! And everyone always acted surprised! Rose would have wanted him to be nice to her mate's dad and Rose had just won the House Cup so Ron would be nice.

Malfoy cleared his throat, clearly as nonplussed as 'Mione. "He's recovering – you know, he managed to rupture his spleen twice in twenty-four hours. Quite the feat."

Ron whistled, impressed. "Rose said something about reattaching spinal cords? Good lad, Malfoy. He's a good lad."

Draco Malfoy did not do emotion. But when it came to his son, he definitely did something similar. "Lovely to see you both," he nodded to the pair of them, offering a slight, warm smile (Ron didn't realise that his face had settings other than "smirk" or "pompous git,") "Rose is an accomplished player. She's a credit to you both."

Ron gaped; Hermione tightened her grip. "Astoria will want to see Scorpius. I must be getting on. All the best," and Malfoy turned and made his way back through the stands.

"Egh." Ron managed.

"I know." Hermione replied, "I know."

"A Gryffindor scarf."

"I know."

"I was nice."

"I know?!"

"Egh."

"Shall we go and see our daughter?"

"A bloody Holyhead formation, Hermione!"

"I know." And the bushy haired Minister for Magic led her husband out of the stands.


On the pitch, Scorpius gracefully climbed from his broom, letting his cape fall in luscious waves around his shoulders. Apart from that fact that his hands were shaking so much that, on the pitch, Scorpius staggered off of his broom and his cape was just in the way, Merlin's beard. The damned things could only have been for the aesthetic value, Scorp grumbled internally as he flicked the thing out of his face; There was really no practical value.

"Malfoy!"

"Hanksy!"

"You bastard!"

"Same to you, belting that bludger at our innocent little seeker! Oh hell, have you got that looked at?"

Hanks glanced down at the broken wrist that he was cradling against his chest. "Yeah, mate. Most of the team have looked at it and made this" Hanks pulled a disgusted expression, "sort of face."

Scorpius nodded, because that was definitely the kind of expression that the proffered limb deserved. "We're still mates, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Hanks reached out with his healthy arm and ruffled the other lad's hair with a giant paw. Scorpius felt it in his bones. His hair possibly had powers that he could never possess, now. "You twat. How much do I owe you, then? Fifty galleons but without a piece of that, wasn't it?"

Scorp blinked, the bet suddenly coming back to him. "Aw shit, Hanks. Nah, it was a cracking game. Call it quits."

Hanks slowly evaluated the blond, respect in his eyes. At 6'3, Scorp towered over the stockier lad, but his boyish smile made him seem smaller for a moment. "Buy you a drink?"

"I'll take three!"

"Twat."

Laughing, Scorpius waved Hanks away and turned to jog in the direction of the where the Gryffindor team was slowly accumulating. Spectators were streaming out of the stands and onto the pitch, and Scorp gingerly made his way through them, hands slapping him on the back as he went. Sean Finnegan had his arm around Fletcher, and their new widdle seeker was being thoroughly congratulated by the boisterous team. Rose still in the air, hovering by the stands where Scorpius could see Hugo animatedly gesturing, clearly giving Rose the play-by-play of the match that she'd just, y'know, captained. Scorp snorted. There was a yell, and Scorp spotted Al shooting him a thumbs up from where he was stuck in between a couple of younger Gryffindors. Returning the gesture with a grin, Scorp figured that his family had just witnessed the best match of his life. Well. To a point. He'd have to send his old man the photos, and Mum would probably just be thrilled that he wasn't back in the hospital wing.

"Yes, Franks!" Scorp exclaimed, clapping the young lad on the back on joining the fray. "That catch!"

Ecstatic, the dark haired boy turned and beamed up at Scorpius Malfoy. "Thanks! Did you see that throw from the ginger Ravenclaw just before ten-ten?"

"Did indeed. Cracking job you did of getting in the way. You should definitely carry on tripping people up throughout life, Franks. You'll be everyone's favourite person."

Franks nodded seriously, taking the advice on board. "Cheers, Malfoy."

"Pleasure. Ah, Weasley's touched down! I'll be a moment."


It was just Scorpius's luck, he supposed, that the second he wanted to go and find his girl (If that was even the case? He was working on it) that Fifty Shades stomped over and tried to have a go. Scorpius was glancing around past his shoulder, having lost that tell-tale red hair in the crush of students again. It was only when the Ravenclaw chaser jabbed him in the chest that he looked down.

"Aw, sod off, Raven-Brain. It was a game!"

Incensed, the Ravenclaw carried on with the chest-stabby-ness. "Our crest is an eagle and not a raven, damn it!"

"It is?"

"Yes!"

"Oh. Merlin, I've been here eight years and never knew that. Hey, why isn't it Eagleclaw, then? You know, never mind. Great talking to you, but I need to find the Cap. In a while, Crocodile."


The cap was deep in conversation with a striking dark-haired woman when Scorp spotted her by the stands. There was something about the back of the woman's head, the way she was holding herself, that was instantly familiar. "Mum!"

Rose watched the woman in front of her whirl away at the sound of Scorpius's voice. He was wide eyed, clearly amazed as he was wrapped into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Astoria Malfoy said, "there was a quidditch match on, peanut. And you know how your father gets."

Peanut? Rose mouthed at Scorpius, who was grinning at her over his mother's shoulder.

Fuck off, he mouthed back, before his mother's words settled in. "Wait - Dad's here as well?"

Scorpius felt rather than saw his father step out behind him. "He is indeed. Good afternoon, Miss Weasley."

"Mr Malfoy," Rose nodded at him pleasantly, leaning on her broom. "It was lovely to see you both, but I should probably go and find my parents."

"They were by the commentator's box just a moment ago." Draco said, and Scorpius had been growing used to his father being kind-of-okay with his friendship with Rose, but when he said "I've just had a chat about the two of you with Weasley, actually. Marvellous flying from the pair of you." Scorpius was stunned. He barely registered Rose passing on her thanks and escaping.

"You talked to Mr Weasley?" Scorpius exclaimed, glee evident, rounding on his father. "Like, pleasantly? Cordially? What are you even doing here? I thought you were staying in Dublin?"

"Our son was playing in the House Cup. It was important." Draco countered dryly. "Oh, your mother and I brought you these-"

"You didn't owl! You didn't say anything and is that – Is that a Gryffindor scarf? Are those Bertie Botts? I think I need a dark room and to rock backwards and forwards a bit. This is all too much."

"Scorpius."

"Sorry, sorry. But aw, you guys."


That night, after escaping parental pettings, the Gryffindor common room was a mess of cheering students, stolen food and loud, raucous singing. "You know, you're welcome to join." Scorpius had said to Hanks earlier after the lad's wrist had been seen to. "We throw a cracking party, you know."

"I know," Hanks replied, easy temperament forever unshaken. "And sure, Gryffindors probably have more fun. But Ravenclaws remember it the next day."

"Eagle-daws."

"Come again?"

"It's an eagle, mate. Not a raven."

"Never?"

Scorpius squinted at the stocky lad, but Hanks' face remained impassive other than a slow, genial smile. "I really cannot tell when you're being sarcastic."

"Good." Hanks had said before leaving, and Scorpius was left to over-analyse everything that had just been said. That had ever been said. That might ever be said.

"Bastard," he muttered. "That's psychological warfare."


Gryffindor always threw a good party; The impromptu kitchen raids always did them well, and they were Gryffindors so the punch was potent (but Fletcher had seen to it that there was an alternative, shooting underage students glares) and none of them could sing but somebody started belting out Dragons in Drag's latest single and the whole tower reverberated with it. Ronan Finnegan led a conga line around the small space, and every cat in the room leapt for the tops of the bookshelves. Nine o'clock, and the dancing was getting better. Ten o'clock and it was getting worse. Eleven and onwards, and people were starting to head to bed or were collapsing in corners whilst the staunch survivors danced on. Throughout the night, Rose and Scorp had come together just often enough that people had half an eye on them.

"You reckon they're..?" Sean Finnegan had asked Fletcher, his arm comfortably around her waist.

Amy had looked at them, and remembered the finger that Rose had pressed against her lips. Ovaries, then, before bro-varies. "Nah," she said airily. "Don't think Rose is interested."

Finnegan had "hmm'd" speculatively. Rose was, at that moment, twirling herself out on Scorp's hand before he reeled her back in, the music having turned swinging and fast. "I reckon he's after her."

It wasn't a conversation that Amy was inclined to continue, so she reached up and pressed a kiss against the corner of Sean's mouth. "Want to dance?"


Scorpius was upside down over the back of the sofa. His back was objecting and the blood might have all been rushing to his head, but hey, that must have been fate, right? He was feeling pretty zen about the whole thing, to be honest. He also couldn't really remember how he'd ended up there, and moving seemed like a big ask. "Weasley!" He cried (or slurred) from his new angle. Down here, he just saw ankles. That was it. Loads of ankles, and ooh, somebody had an ankle tattoo, but he couldn't spot her hair. It was always her hair. That lovely, lovely-

"Malfoy!"

Tilting his head and squinting upwards, Scorpius spied the wrong Weasley. "Hu! My main man! Where's Weasley?"

"Did you really play a Holyhead Formation?" Hugo wanted to talk about it with somebody. Or to somebody. He was just so happy to have seen a match like that.

"Maybe?" Scorpius chanced. Even from down here, he saw Hugo's face fall. Wrong answer, then. "No." He tried, because there was a fifty percent chance that that was the right answer. Apparently, that left a fifty percent chance of failure which was a bummer. "Yes, then. Where's Weasley? I want Rosie."

"My Rose?"

"No, my Rose."

"Here." Rose slumped down next to Scorpius, and then lay down so that her head rested next to his. "What are we talking, gentlemen?"

"The Holyhead Formation!" and Hugo was off. There was no stopping him. Rose nodded along whilst Scorpius nodded off.

"Hey, Scorp," Rose whispered to him, her mouth by his ear anyway. "What's with the sofa?"

"Gravity continues to ruin my life." Scorp whispered back seriously. "I was destined to be a figure skater, you know. Or that guy who could fly – what was his name?"

"Icarus?"

"Richard Branson! But now my dreams are in tatters."

Rose smiled to herself, and was about to say something when she was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up, startled, and saw her brother's inebriated face blinking down at her.

"Rose, I'm going to have to stop you there. I love talking squidditch but you've done me in. I'll see you in the morning." And Hugo sleepily ambled away whilst Rose watched on, bemused.

"I think we just gave him his birthday present and Christmas present rolled into one."

"So nice of us," Scorpius replied, reaching a hand backwards to trail it through Rose's hair. It had spread out on the floor around them both, and he loved it. He wasn't sure if it was the strands of fire or his embarrassingly poor alcohol tolerance which loosened his tongue enough to ask, "Rosie, you know that fancy ball? Would you come with me if I asked?"

Firewhiskey had taken the edge off of Rose's senses, but she was still astute enough to ask "Are you?"

Scorpius didn't hesitate. "Yeah. Yes. Rosie, will you come to the fancy ball with me, please?"

"People will be watching."

"I don't care about people. I care about you."

"Oh." Rose stilled, her mind suddenly blank. And then she linked their little fingers together, Scorp's hazy, unfocused eyes finding hers. "Okay, okay. Yes, then. Let's."

And they might have fallen asleep like that – Scorpius's long legs hanging off the other side of the sofa, one shoe having disappeared; Rose collapsed by his head, and their hands linked together by the littlest fingers as innocently as children – had Albus not come flying down the stairs from the boy's dormitory, and gone "Someone's stolen it!"


The boys' dormitory was a mess.

Whilst Scorpius's side of the room was relatively untouched, Albus's half was in tatters. His sheets had been stripped, the pillows torn apart. Shattered glass covered the floor, and Scorp and Rose took it in, aghast, whilst Al heedlessly strode over to the windowsill. "Every single piece of research." Albus said bitterly. "They have taken everything. My plants – my research… I was taking it to see Shackleford next week and now I have nothing to show him. What a waste. What a goddamn waste."

"Why?" Scorp managed, mind reeling. He was rapidly sobering up, the severity of the situation hitting him in the face. "Fucking hell, Albus – why?"

Albus said nothing; He just shrugged helplessly. "They're just a couple of plants. There is a fucking gold distillery in this room – And they took the one bloody thing that is worth next to nothing." Albus barked out a harsh laugh, and Scorp watched him carefully. Albus had been drinking, he knew, but Scorpius didn't like the way that it had turned his friend - who was usually so stupidly caring - into this hostile version of himself.

"Al, you've bred a plant that could change medicine for good. Do you realise the price tag somebody could put on that?" Rose rationalised, her voice level.

There was silence. Albus and Scorpius exchanged a glance.

"Fuck." Albus whispered.

"Fuck." Scorp echoed, horrified. "We need to get that back. Look, I'll go and find somebody to wake McGonagall; We'll get them to do sweeps of the room, whoever did it must have left something behind."

"No." Albus articulated, slowly and carefully. "Scoprius, no. I will not let you do this for me."

Scorp said nothing, instead arched one brow challengingly.

"You need to listen to me," Al said vehemently. "That research – those plants – they do not exist anymore. Are you hearing me? As far as anybody is concerned, it's gone. It never was."

"But it was, Albus." Scorp said quietly. "You can't just throw it away. It was brilliant."

"Watch me." Albus replied, and Scorpius watched as his best friend walked out of the door. He didn't try and stop him; He recognised the look in Albus's eyes. There was a breaking point, and Albus usually walked a path so far away from it. But now? Now he walked the line as though it were a tightrope. The door slammed behind him, and Scorpius flinched.

"Albus!" Rose exclaimed, rushing to the doorway. "Al!"

"Let him go," Scorp said quietly. "Rosie, we have to let him go."

"We can't let him just give up." Rose whirled around, eyes aflame.

"And we are not." Scorpius said. "Get your arse over here, Weasley. We need a plan."


"That's an insane idea."

"Do you not feel like it has to be? Because I feel like it has to be."

"No one has to cross-dress. And violence is not the answer, Scorp."

"But it is an answer. What's your idea then!?"

And Rose Weasley, who had managed mischief since she started captaining the Gryffindor quidditch team, said "Well," and the idea that followed proceeded to shave a good three years off of Scorpius's life.


"That's surprisingly evil, Rosie. I'm almost annoyed."

Rose glanced up from the pieces of parchment that she'd gathered, and grinned wickedly. "Needs must, right?"

"Apparently. But, okay, what if the plants have already been sent off? This will only work if they're still in the castle."

Unfazed, Rose's loopy handwriting was hurriedly spider-webbing it's way across the pages. "That's easy enough to establish," she said, half-listening. "We can just check the logs in the Owlery."

Scorp leant back on his bed, and glanced at Albus's. The chaos was disheartening; The mattress torn, the candelabra snapped in two. Scorp felt a pang for Albus's usual cleanliness – he missed the usual piles of pipettes and books and a shaggy black head smushed against the pillow in some brilliantly ugly angles. Really, the photos he had would keep him in blackmail material for years.

"We'll sort this out." Rose said, watching Scorpius's face fall. "It's what we do."

"What if we can't, this time?"

"Don't be thick, Malfoy. We just won the bloody House Cup with you out of hospital less than a week before. This is child's play. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. And whilst you're at it, convince Al to do the same."

Looking over, Scorp was struck by the determination in Rose. It was in the set of her jaw, the ferocity in her eyes. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said, easing himself off of the bed to sit next to her on the floor. She looked up at him in askance, and it took everything in Scorp not to close the distance between them. Instead, he looked at the hastily drawn plans. "Where do we start?"

"The Owlery." Rose replied, swapping her attention. "You're right – we need to find out if the plants are still in school."