AN: Scorpius'! Finally we're going to find out what was in that letter that his father gave him in September. The subtle hints of Dramione are a tribute to my sister who is obsessed with the ship :). Reviews are better than hedgehogs!

Chapter Thirty-One
Christmas; Part Seven

Scorpius was more than a little bemused by the night's events as he lay down on his bed in his empty dormitory. He hated dancing but Jayna always had so much enthusiasm for it even if she couldn't dance very fluidly. He found himself laughing at her flailing arms and was very glad he'd managed to convince her to leave the alcohol alone. She was probably a little tipsy from the Firewhisky she'd drained in one go but Scorpius had persuaded her to eat enough to settle the alcohol in her stomach.

He used to look forward to the Socials because it was the only time he saw her without their parents watching their every move. He'd had a crush on her when he was five and they'd both promised that they would get married when they were adults, much to the amusement of their older selves. His passing crush hadn't been the reason he liked seeing her though; she was a pretty great friend when she wanted to be and she'd helped him throw off Goyle's stalkerish tendencies by freaking him out with her much-too-large intellect.

He heard a knock on his door and frowned. It was late; the only people who were up were people that were at Slughorn's party. To be fair, there were a lot of Slytherins who'd gone. He weighed up the merits of pretending to be asleep before sighing.

"Come in!" Cara Blackwood stepped into his dormitory and it was only his eleven years of etiquette classes that stopped him from sighing aloud. Why couldn't the sisters sort out their own problems? They were old enough now. "Hi Blackwood."

"Malfoy." She acknowledged, twisting her hands around. Scorpius raised an eyebrow as he sat up, waiting for her to continue. "Is my sister ok-"

"Blackwood, no offense, but why are you asking me?"

"You're closer?" She tried to joke. It fell flat. "I don't know Malfoy. I just don't agree with all those people she's hanging around-"

"Blackwood, she's not going to change who she hangs out with just because you ask her to. But I do know it's hurting her, a lot, that you can't just accept it. She's not trying to change your views is she? She still loves you even if she doesn't agree with you. I know for a fact she bought you a birthday present and you both got each other Christmas presents. That doesn't seem like the act of someone who doesn't care about you anymore." Cara blinked, the words very close to what Willow had said the day before.

"I-"

"Think about it Blackwood and in the meantime let me sleep." Cara let out a tired chuckle and gave him a small smile as she left his room. Scorpius shook his head and changed into his pyjamas, extremely glad to get out of his posh clothes.

Scorpius, however, could not fall asleep. He hadn't stayed at Hogwarts for Jayna or to see Hogwarts at Christmas time. He'd stayed because he didn't want to go home to his huge empty house where he'd be given more presents than he could count and the customary politeness that all his family expressed towards him. His father occasionally would drop the act, he knew, for mere seconds at a time when his mother and grandparents weren't looking; just long enough to give him a hug or ask how he was settling in, but these moments were few and far between. He loved his mother and father, he really did, and always wanted to impress them and make them proud. But seeing how the other non-Pureblood-supremacy families had acted that day on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Scorpius had thought that maybe the Purebloods kept up these views just so they could distance themselves from their own families.

He thought about the letter his father had given him. It was hidden in the bottom of his trunk. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and dug it out, reading it again.

There was a note attached to the top that said simply; I never sent this.

Dear Hermione,

It's been many years since we've spoken. I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion to the Deputy-Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and I have no doubt that you deserved it. I'm also aware that you married Weasley, and you've had two children. I hope they're all well.

I also wanted to wish you Happy Birthday as I'm aware that it is today.

The main reason of this letter, however, is to apologise for my teenage self. Not only did I join the side of the people who wished only to hunt you down and kill you, I also made an effort to ruin your life at Hogwarts too. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better when the three of you turned up at my house, I was too shocked and too scared and I know you now have scars from my Auntie's insane torturing. I could hear you screaming and it did nothing but terrify me. I will forever be sorrowful for not rushing to your aid.

I know I have only the slightest chance in Hell of you believing this to be the truth, and I know I don't deserve your belief, let alone your forgiveness, but I wanted to wish you all the best and reiterate that I am so happy you've found a man who's worthy of your affections. I hardly think it likely that we will speak again, so this is my final goodbye.

You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer,

Yours Faithfully,

Draco Malfoy

Scorpius had used up countless pieces of parchment demanding an explanation as to why Draco had turned his world upside-down with this letter but he had yet to send a single one. Everything he thought he knew was unravelling before his very eyes. He found himself seeing weakness, not strength, in the people that still used 'Mudblood'. He was best friends with a Potter for Merlin's sake! He hung out once a week in a study group that was entirely made up of blood-traitors and Mudbloods. And he could no longer deny, at least to himself, the fluttering in his stomach and the speed of his heart-rate when he saw Rose.

He wished, for the first time, that he wasn't a snobbish Pureblood. He could imagine his life as a Muggleborn; being able to draw whenever he wished, concerned letters from his anxious parents, friends that he knew he was equal to, and a life that was governed solely by himself and not his Pureblood childhood.

He put the letter away again and tucked his covers up to his chin, watching the giant squid's tentacle squirm past the window and wondering if perhaps he should wish to be the squid instead.