Chapter 5. Scorpius Malfoy.

How did he deserve all this? He always behaved himself and even wiped his feet before entering the living room. So, what had he done to deserve this?!

McGonagall lectured them along the lines of "How could you?!" and "What in the world came over you?!" for what seemed like a quarter of an hour. One could only envy her vehemence. Even Scorpius' father could not yell at him for this long; purse his lips as tellingly; make his eyes flame with such indignation; and pause so significantly after the punch lines. I wonder if Potter was able to properly appreciate all that?

Scorpius peered sidelong at the Gryffindor who sat at the adjacent desk, his head hung in contrition. That's right; let your conscience and your guilt have a good chew party with your suspicious pitiful soul.

Finally, McGonagall seemed to have run out of steam. They must not have expressed enough regret, because the second part of her declamation might not be as long and passionate, but was no less impressive. She outlined the grand plan of two-weeks-long correctional activities, which included not only her favorite, calligraphy, but also the pleasant pastime with bedpans, exciting hours amidst the Walrus' phials and retorts, the wonderful company of magic scotch tape and Pince's books, and a good dozen of other small, but extremely contributive chores.

Yes, the Hogwarts house elves must all be on vacation. And there they were: he and Potter. Someone had to come to the rescue. And who was better suited for it if not the son of the great family of heroes and saviors? What Malfoy couldn't understand was where did he fit into this picture? Cheerleading?

Despite all that, the Slytherin was in a wonderful mood, minus the piercing ache in his ribs. He felt serene, too. Firstly, if Potter had truly wanted to kill him, he would have done it by now. Ergo, his brain must have kicked into gear. And secondly, inside him nestled the tender warmth bestowed upon him by Lily Potter.

To simply spend an hour with her was the best experience he had ever had with a girl. Not a single kiss; just a brief embrace. This is what it must feel like to be in heaven. You walk in – and instantly realise that you don't need anything else. And your soul purrs happily somewhere deep inside you. This feeling was worth a thousand duels; but not with James Potter.

When McGonagall left the room, having slammed down a thousand-page-long ancient folio in front of Malfoy, Scorpius lazily picked up his quill, slid a scroll of parchment in front of him, and opened the book.

It seemed to have been written by Slytherin's great-grandfather together with Gryffindor's great-grandmother – and they must have been helping themselves with a bottle of good Firewhiskey. Scorpius had never seen even Filch's tilted lines jump around like that – and Filch probably couldn't write to begin with.

The Slytherin hadn't even glanced at the book handed to the perpetrator of this whole nightmare. Potter, of course. Detective, thestral spit on him! Even Trelawney would have envied his brilliant conclusions, with her goblin's-butt-shaped tea leaves, and jump-in-and-out-of-your-house Saturn.

Malfoy penned only a few letters. He didn't like working in silence. He generally didn't trust the silence, especially around Potter. If one doesn't distract him with a conversation, he will get the next great idea into his shaggy head, like the one in the morning.

"Hey, Potter," he drawled out to his friend.

James didn't reply, pretending to be engrossed in his book.

"Potter, are you deaf? Could you, by chance, impart to me what came over you this morning?"

"Malfoy…" James said with a slight threat in his voice, without turning around.

"Potter, are you, in general, on good terms with your own brain? You have tripped your sister up in your righteous indignation like few people could have."

"Malfoy."

"No, seriously! Of all the dumb things that you have done in your life, this one really takes the cake. You should get a medal – for 'the year's best sleuth'."

"Malfoy!" James finally looked up, tossed aside his quill, and stared at his classmate.

"I am flattered, of course, that your active vocabulary includes my surname, but could you add anything to it?" Scorpius inquired with a pretty smile, twirling his quill.

"Shut up," the Gryffindore said through clenched teeth, turning away.

"Oh, two words – that's an improvement," Malfoy continued to amuse himself. As long as they were bound for two weeks of McGonagall slavery, someone had to pay. "By the way, I am ready."

"Ready for what?" James growled, without looking up from the parchment in front of him.

"For your apology for a ruined morning."

The Gryffindor bristled at once, glaring at Malfoy:

"Not before you apologize."

"For what? Enlighten me," Malfoy put aside his quill and turned sideways to James.

"For chasing after my sister behind my back," the Gryffindor also stopped writing. "Were you afraid to admit it?"

"Potter, how do you get these brilliant thoughts into your little head? I didn't chase after her!" Scorpius protested indignantly. Lies!

"Yeah, right… You just kissed her once or twice…"

"And you were counting, huh?" the Slytherin grinned, trying to remember himself how many times he had kissed Lily Potter. Well, first he had to decide whether a five-minute kiss qualified as a single kiss or it needed to be counted as several in a row. Should he count the times when he kissed her and she didn't respond? Yes, it is complicated. If judging by the quality, however…

"Why didn't you tell me that you liked her?" James broke into Scorpius' reverie.

"Hmmm, let me think," Scorpius pressed his finger to his lips and raised his eyes to the ceiling, "could it be because you threatened that anyone who got close to her would lose his toes and ears? I think that this is a good cause for discretion… Besides, until the Christmas Ball, I wasn't planning to give my feelings for anyone very much thought. You were so insistent this morning, however, that I had to alter my plans a bit…"

"Yeah, just go ahead and blame it on me!"

"And who is to blame, if not you? Who behaved as though he'd been bitten in the arse by a rabid hippogriff?"

"You yourself believed that she had been with Gregory, didn't you?" James exploded. Must be trying to sooth his conscience. How like Potter – to leave someone holding the bag. "You were the one pouncing on him like a goblin on a counterfeit galleon!"

"Don't compare me to a goblin," Malfoy snorted, smoothing his hair. "Unlike some people of Gryffindor persuasion, I was not yelling for the entire street to hear me! I politely asked Gregory to stay away from her."

"I never thought that you could be jealous," James grinned suddenly. "Merlin, Malfoy, you were jealous of him!"

"Shut up," Scorpius snarled.

"Yes, you were! Gregory!" the Gryffindor sneered, looking at his friend.

"Potter, either you shut up, or I can't vouch for myself…" the Slytherin growled, taking out his wand.

"Oh, I am frightened already," James snorted, taking out his. "You didn't look like an evil spell master to me this morning."

Malfoy got to his feet and angrily pointed his wand at the Gryffindor:

"I simply didn't want to throw your bloody scalp at your sister's feet."

James also rose, still grinning:

"Or maybe you couldn't remember anything stronger than 'Lumos'?"

"Or maybe you should shut up before I turn you into an ass?"

"Why into an ass?" James sounded offended.

"Because you have one quality in common with that animal," Malfoy also grinned.

"All right, you ferret and a son of a ferret, you wanted it – you got it," James waved his wand; and stood there, admiring the sight.

Malfoy's lips twitched as he raised his hand and felt the top of his head.

"I hope that you at least changed the colour," he said, also waving his wand; now it was his turn to try not to laugh out loud. "No, you are not an ass. You are a drunken hedgehog at the top of a fir."

Every hair on James' head stretched out, forming a halo around his head. He looked like a black dandelion.

"You have ruined my hairdo!" the Gryffindor cried indignantly, shooting the next spell at his friend. Malfoy's tie turned into a pink bow-tie to match the pink ribbon in his silver hair, only with green polka dots. Scorpius couldn't get a good look at it, but he expressed his appreciation of James' creativity by turning his tie into a woman's silk scarf with a heart-shaped brooch.

The Gryffindor could not leave that unanswered – Scorpius' robes became white with black spots, like a classic cow hide. After momentary contemplation, James added a tail in the back, for good measure. Malfoy snorted – and James' robes clung tightly to his body, sporting yellow horizontal stripes.

By the time the classroom door opened, Scorpius was wearing cute slippers with eyes and ears instead of his boots, and James realised with horror that his favorite shoes had turned into awkward contraptions, seemingly weaved with strips of tree bark.

The chaps turned their heads toward the doorway, where Lily Potter stood frozen to the spot. Scorpius watched the quick change of expressions on the Gryffindor's face.

"Who do you think she ran here to protect and defend?" Scorpius asked James out of the corner of his mouth. The other merely shrugged. "All right, then the one she addresses first is the one she cares less about."

Malfoy could imagine what they looked like to an unprepared spectator, and quite understood why Lily chortled and said, suppressing Homeric laughter:

"You both are such idiots…," after which she turned and ran away, doubling with laughter.

"So, who do you think she cares about less?" the Gryffindor turned toward Scorpius. Then he also burst out laughing. Malfoy followed suit a second later. The window panes shuddered a little.

When the laughter abated – which took a while because every time they calmed down and looked up, laughter gripped them anew – James looked narrow-eyed at the Slytherin who was trying to remove the ribbon from his hair:

"Mark my words, Malfoy: if you hurt her, if she suffers because of you…"

"I know, I know," Scorpius waved his hand dismissively at his friend, "you will tear off my toes, scalp me, crucify me on the Hogwarts front door…"

"No," James shook his head gravely. "I shall not only never say another word to you again; I shall not so much as spare a glance in your direction."

"You won't have to," Malfoy said, just as seriously, "because if that happened, I would never be able to look you in the eye."

James merely nodded, holding out his hand.

"Peace?"

"As if," the Slytherin grinned. "I do not shake hands with strange creatures in women's fashion scarves, dressed up as bees, and without a clue what a comb is. Do your hair first, you, freak of nature."

Malfoy saw a wand flashing through the air and laughed. The world was returning to normal.